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+Project Gutenberg’s An “Attic” Philosopher, Complete, by Emile Souvestre
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An “Attic” Philosopher, Complete
+
+Author: Emile Souvestre
+
+Release Date: October 30, 2004 [EBook #3999]
+Last Updated: August 23, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN “ATTIC” PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+AN “ATTIC” PHILOSOPHER
+
+(Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+
+By EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+
+With a Preface by JOSEPH BERTRAND, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+
+EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+No one succeeds in obtaining a prominent place in literature, or in
+surrounding himself with a faithful and steady circle of admirers drawn
+from the fickle masses of the public, unless he possesses originality,
+constant variety, and a distinct personality. It is quite possible to
+gain for a moment a few readers by imitating some original feature
+in another; but these soon vanish and the writer remains alone and
+forgotten. Others, again, without belonging to any distinct group
+of authors, having found their standard in themselves, moralists and
+educators at the same time, have obtained undying recognition.
+
+Of the latter class, though little known outside of France, is Emile
+Souvestre, who was born in Morlaix, April 15, 1806, and died at Paris
+July 5, 1854. He was the son of a civil engineer, was educated at
+the college of Pontivy, and intended to follow his father’s career by
+entering the Polytechnic School. His father, however, died in 1823, and
+Souvestre matriculated as a law-student at Rennes. But the young student
+soon devoted himself entirely to literature. His first essay, a tragedy,
+‘Le Siege de Missolonghi’ (1828), was a pronounced failure. Disheartened
+and disgusted he left Paris and established himself first as a lawyer
+in Morlaix. Then he became proprietor of a newspaper, and was afterward
+appointed a professor in Brest and in Mulhouse. In 1836 he contributed
+to the ‘Revue des Deux Mondes’ some sketches of life in Brittany, which
+obtained a brilliant success. Souvestre was soon made editor of La
+Revue de Paris, and in consequence early found a publisher for his first
+novel, ‘L’Echelle de Femmes’, which, as was the case with his second
+work, Riche et Pauvre’, met with a very favorable reception. His
+reputation was now made, and between this period and his death he gave
+to France about sixty volumes--tales, novels, essays, history, and
+drama.
+
+A double purpose was always very conspicuous in his books: he aspired to
+the role of a moralist and educator, and was likewise a most impressive
+painter of the life, character, and morals of the inhabitants of
+Brittany.
+
+The most significant of his books are perhaps ‘Les Derniers Bretons
+(1835-1837, 4 vols.), Pierre Landais (1843, 2 vols.), Le Foyer Breton
+(1844, 2 vols.), Un Philosophe sons les Toits, crowned by the Academy
+(1850), Confessions d’un Ouvrier (1851), Recits et Souvenirs (1853),
+Souvenirs d’un Vieillard (1854); also La Bretagne Pittoresque (1845),
+and, finally, Causeries Historiques et Litteraires (1854, 2 vols.)’.
+His comedies deserve honorable mention: ‘Henri Hamelin, L’Oncle Baptiste
+(1842), La Parisienne, Le Mousse, etc’. In 1848, Souvestre was appointed
+professor of the newly created school of administration, mostly devoted
+to popular lectures. He held this post till 1853, lecturing partly in
+Paris, partly in Switzerland.
+
+His death, when comparatively young, left a distinct gap in the literary
+world. A life like his could not be extinguished without general sorrow.
+Although he was unduly modest, and never aspired to the role of a
+beacon-light in literature, always seeking to remain in obscurity,
+the works of Emile Souvestre must be placed in the first rank by their
+morality and by their instructive character. They will always command
+the entire respect and applause of mankind. And thus it happens that,
+like many others, he was only fully appreciated after his death.
+
+Even those of his ‘confreres’ who did not seem to esteem him, when
+alive, suddenly found out that they had experienced a great loss in
+his demise. They expressed it in emotional panegyrcs; contemporaneous
+literature discovered that virtue had flown from its bosom, and the
+French Academy, which had at its proper time crowned his ‘Philosophe
+sons les Toits’ as a work contributing supremely to morals, kept his
+memory green by bestowing on his widow the “Prix Lambert,” designed for
+the “families of authors who by their integrity, and by the probity
+of their efforts have well deserved this token from the Republique des
+Lettres.”
+
+                    JOSEPH BERTRAND
+                  de ‘Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+AN “ATTIC” PHILOSOPHER
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. NEW-YEAR’S GIFTS
+
+January 1st
+
+The day of the month came into my mind as soon as I awoke. Another year
+is separated from the chain of ages, and drops into the gulf of the
+past! The crowd hasten to welcome her young sister. But while all looks
+are turned toward the future, mine revert to the past. Everyone smiles
+upon the new queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time
+has just wrapped in her winding-sheet. The past year!--at least I know
+what she was, and what she has given me; while this one comes surrounded
+by all the forebodings of the unknown. What does she hide in the clouds
+that mantle her? Is it the storm or the sunshine? Just now it rains, and
+I feel my mind as gloomy as the sky. I have a holiday today; but what
+can one do on a rainy day? I walk up and down my attic out of temper,
+and I determine to light my fire.
+
+Unfortunately the matches are bad, the chimney smokes, the wood goes
+out! I throw down my bellows in disgust, and sink into my old armchair.
+
+In truth, why should I rejoice to see the birth of a new year? All those
+who are already in the streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces--do
+they understand what makes them so gay? Do they even know what is the
+meaning of this holiday, or whence comes the custom of New-Year’s gifts?
+
+Here my mind pauses to prove to itself its superiority over that of the
+vulgar. I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity, and
+I bring together all the evidence which my knowledge can produce.
+
+(The old Romans divided the year into ten months only; it was Numa
+Pompilius who added January and February. The former took its name
+from Janus, to whom it was dedicated. As it opened the new year, they
+surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of
+visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year’s gifts.
+The presents given by the Romans were symbolic. They consisted of dry
+figs, dates, honeycomb, as emblems of “the sweetness of the auspices
+under which the year should begin its course,” and a small piece of
+money called stips, which foreboded riches.)
+
+Here I close the parenthesis, and return to my ill-humor. The
+little speech I have just addressed to myself has restored me my
+self-satisfaction, but made me more dissatisfied with others. I could
+now enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning’s
+milk, and the pot of preserves is empty! Anyone else would have been
+vexed: as for me, I affect the most supreme indifference. There remains
+a hard crust, which I break by main strength, and which I carelessly
+nibble, as a man far above the vanities of the world and of fresh rolls.
+
+However, I do not know why my thoughts should grow more gloomy by
+reason of the difficulties of mastication. I once read the story of
+an Englishman who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea
+without sugar. There are hours in life when the most trifling cross
+takes the form of a calamity. Our tempers are like an opera-glass, which
+makes the object small or great according to the end you look through.
+
+Usually, the prospect that opens out before my window delights me. It is
+a mountain-range of roofs, with ridges crossing, interlacing, and piled
+on one another, and upon which tall chimneys raise their peaks. It was
+but yesterday that they had an Alpine aspect to me, and I waited for the
+first snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles
+and stone flues. The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem
+no more than miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back
+yard; the smoke, which rises in light clouds, instead of making me
+dream of the panting of Vesuvius, reminds me of kitchen preparations
+and dishwater; and lastly, the telegraph, that I see far off on the old
+tower of Montmartre, has the effect of a vile gallows stretching its
+arms over the city.
+
+My eyes, thus hurt by all they meet, fall upon the great man’s house
+which faces my attic.
+
+The influence of New-Year’s Day is visible there. The servants have an
+air of eagerness proportioned to the value of their New-Year’s gifts,
+received or expected. I see the master of the house crossing the court
+with the morose look of a man who is forced to be generous; and
+the visitors increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers,
+bandboxes, or toys. Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new
+carriage, drawn by thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps.
+They are, without doubt, the New-Year’s gift presented to the mistress
+of the house by her husband; for she comes herself to look at the new
+equipage. Very soon she gets into it with a little girl, all streaming
+with laces, feathers and velvets, and loaded with parcels which she goes
+to distribute as New-Year’s gifts. The door is shut, the windows are
+drawn up, the carriage sets off.
+
+Thus all the world are exchanging good wishes and presents to-day. I
+alone have nothing to give or to receive. Poor Solitary! I do not even
+know one chosen being for whom I might offer a prayer.
+
+Then let my wishes for a happy New Year go and seek out all my unknown
+friends--lost in the multitude which murmurs like the ocean at my feet!
+
+To you first, hermits in cities, for whom death and poverty have
+created a solitude in the midst of the crowd! unhappy laborers, who are
+condemned to toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in silence
+and desertion, and whom God has withdrawn from the intoxicating pangs of
+love and friendship!
+
+To you, fond dreamers, who pass through life with your eyes turned
+toward some polar star, while you tread with indifference over the rich
+harvests of reality!
+
+To you, honest fathers, who lengthen out the evening to maintain your
+families! to you, poor widows, weeping and working by a cradle! to you,
+young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large
+enough to lead through it the wife of your choice! to you, all brave
+soldiers of work and of self-sacrifice!
+
+To you, lastly, whatever your title and your name, who love good, who
+pity the suffering; who walk through the world like the symbolical
+Virgin of Byzantium, with both arms open to the human race!
+
+Here I am suddenly interrupted by loud and increasing chirpings. I look
+about me: my window is surrounded with sparrows picking up the crumbs of
+bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof. At this
+sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart. I deceived myself
+just now, when I complained that I had nothing to give: thanks to me,
+the sparrows of this part of the town will have their New-Year’s gifts!
+
+Twelve o’clock.--A knock at my door; a poor girl comes in, and greets
+me by name. At first I do not recollect her; but she looks at me, and
+smiles. Ah! it is Paulette! But it is almost a year since I have seen
+her, and Paulette is no longer the same: the other day she was a child,
+now she is almost a young woman.
+
+Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has always the same
+open and straightforward look--the same mouth, smiling at every word,
+as if to court your sympathy--the same voice, somewhat timid, yet
+expressing fondness. Paulette is not pretty--she is even thought plain;
+as for me, I think her charming. Perhaps that is not on her account, but
+on my own. Paulette appears to me as one of my happiest recollections.
+
+It was the evening of a public holiday. Our principal buildings were
+illuminated with festoons of fire, a thousand flags waved in the night
+winds, and the fireworks had just shot forth their spouts of flame into
+the midst of the Champ de Mars. Suddenly, one of those unaccountable
+alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd:
+they cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the
+frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive struggles. I
+escaped from the confusion by a miracle, and was hastening away, when
+the cries of a perishing child arrested me: I reentered that human
+chaos, and, after unheard-of exertions, I brought Paulette out of it at
+the peril of my life.
+
+That was two years ago: since then I had not seen the child again but
+at long intervals, and I had almost forgotten her; but Paulette’s memory
+was that of a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year
+to offer me her wishes for my happiness. She brought me, besides, a
+wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted and reared it: it was
+something that belonged wholly to herself; for it was by her care, her
+perseverance, and her patience, that she had obtained it.
+
+The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette, who is a
+bandbox-maker, had put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented
+with arabesques. These might have been in better taste, but I did not
+feel the attention and good-will the less.
+
+This unexpected present, the little girl’s modest blushes, the
+compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of
+mist which had gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed
+from the leaden tints of evening to the brightest colors of dawn. I made
+Paulette sit down, and questioned her with a light heart.
+
+At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon
+the tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted with short
+interjections her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a
+hard life. She was left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister,
+and lives with an old grandmother, who has “brought them up to poverty,”
+ as she always calls it.
+
+However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her little sister
+Perrine begins to use the needle, and her brother Henry is apprentice
+to a printer. All would go well if it were not for losses and want of
+work--if it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which
+grow larger, and for the winter, when you cannot get sunshine for
+nothing. Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that
+her wood costs too much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that
+a fagot makes no more show in it than a match; it is so near the roof
+that the wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the
+hearth; so they have left off using it. Henceforth they must be content
+with an earthen chafing-dish, upon which they cook their meals. The
+grandmother had often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the
+broker’s close by; but he asked seven francs for it, and the times are
+too hard for such an expense: the family, therefore, resign themselves
+to cold for economy!
+
+As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness
+and low spirits. The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker
+created within me a wish that soon became a plan. I questioned her about
+her daily occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must
+go, with her brother, her sister, and grandmother, to the different
+people for whom they work. My plan was immediately settled. I told the
+child that I would go to see her in the evening, and I sent her away
+with fresh thanks.
+
+I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid
+it welcome; the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and
+the day, which began so loweringly, had become bright. I sang as I moved
+about my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out.
+
+Three o’clock.--All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-doctor; he
+will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new.
+At five o’clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette’s
+grandmother’s room.
+
+Midnight.--All has gone off well. At the hour agreed upon, I was at the
+old bandbox-maker’s; she was still out. My Piedmontese
+
+   [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named “Piedmontese” or “Savoyard,”
+    as they usually come from that country.]
+
+fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace,
+taken from my winter stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself
+with walking, or by going to bed earlier.
+
+My heart beat at every step that was heard on the staircase; I trembled
+lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil
+my intended surprise. But no!--see everything ready: the lighted stove
+murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of
+oil for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney-doctor is gone. Now
+my fear lest they should come is changed into impatience at their not
+coming. At last I hear children’s voices; here they are: they push open
+the door and rush in--but they all stop in astonishment.
+
+At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there
+like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost
+frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of
+the grandmother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finishes the
+explanation. Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks!
+
+But the wonders are not yet ended. The little sister opens the oven, and
+discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on
+the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the
+basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
+rolls.
+
+Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never
+seen such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is
+a complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had
+brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
+the enjoyment.
+
+What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which
+waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old
+woman herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I
+have always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their
+wretchedness. Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain
+of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich
+are more difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit
+before they will consent to be happy.
+
+The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history
+of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang
+an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of
+the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At
+last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part
+of the happy family.
+
+I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure
+enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much
+comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year’s Day will come amiss
+to me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and
+nothing to receive.
+
+As I came in, I met my rich neighbor’s new equipage. She, too, had
+just returned from her evening’s party; and, as she sprang from the
+carriage-step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur “At last!”
+
+I, when I left Paulette’s family, said “So soon!”
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. THE CARNIVAL
+
+February 20th
+
+What a noise out of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts and
+cries? Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the
+maskers are passing.
+
+Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian
+festivals of the pagan times, but it has changed the names. That which
+it has given to these “days of liberty” announces the ending of the
+feasts, and the month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means,
+literally, “farewell to flesh!” It is a forty days’ farewell to the
+“blessed pullets and fat hams,” so celebrated by Pantagruel’s minstrel.
+Man prepares for privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thoroughly
+before he begins to repent.
+
+Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some one of
+these mad festivals? Must we believe that it requires such an effort
+for men to be reasonable, that the weaker ones have need of rest at
+intervals? The monks of La Trappe, who are condemned to silence by their
+rule, are allowed to speak once in a month, and on this day they all
+talk at once from the rising to the setting of the sun.
+
+Perhaps it is the same in the world. As we are obliged all the year to
+be decent, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a long restraint
+during the Carnival. It is a door opened to the incongruous fancies and
+wishes that have hitherto been crowded back into a corner of our brain.
+For a moment the slaves become the masters, as in the days of the
+Saturnalia, and all is given up to the “fools of the family.”
+
+The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase--on
+foot, in carriages, and on horseback. It is now who can attract the most
+attention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exciting curiosity
+or envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to the
+employments and troubles of yesterday.
+
+Alas! thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders;
+our whole life is often but an unsightly Carnival! And yet man has need
+of holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart. Can
+he not have them, then, with these coarse pleasures? Economists have
+been long inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of the
+human race. Ah! if I could only discover the best disposal of its
+leisure! It is easy enough to find it work; but who will find it
+relaxation? Work supplies the daily bread; but it is cheerfulness that
+gives it a relish. O philosophers! go in quest of pleasure! find us
+amusements without brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word,
+invent a Carnival that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one.
+
+Three o’clock.--I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire. As
+this is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too. So
+I light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup of
+the coffee that my portress’s son brought from the Levant, and I look in
+my bookcase for one of my favorite authors.
+
+First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are
+too fond of talking slang:--Voltaire; but he disheartens men by always
+bantering them:--Moliere; but he hinders one’s laughter by making one
+think:--Lesage; let us stop at him. Being profound rather than grave, he
+preaches virtue while ridiculing vice; if bitterness is sometimes to be
+found in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees the
+miseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly
+tricks without hating it.
+
+Let us call up all the heroes of his book.... Gil Blas, Fabrice,
+Sangrado, the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio!
+Ye gay or graceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude;
+bring hither for my amusement the world-carnival, of which you are the
+brilliant maskers!
+
+Unfortunately, at the very moment I made this invocation, I recollected
+I had a letter to write which could not be put off. One of my attic
+neighbors came yesterday to ask me to do it. He is a cheerful old man,
+and has a passion for pictures and prints. He comes home almost every
+day with a drawing or painting--probably of little value; for I know he
+lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows
+his poverty. His only son, who was married in England, is just dead,
+and his widow--left without any means, and with an old mother and a
+child--had written to beg for a home. M. Antoine asked me first to
+translate the letter, and then to write a refusal. I had promised that
+he should have this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our
+promises.
+
+The sheet of “Bath” paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the
+ink, and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I
+perceive that I have not my dictionary. Now, a Parisian who would speak
+English without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings;
+the ground trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step. I run
+then to the bookbinder’s, where I left my Johnson, who lives close by in
+the square.
+
+The door is half open; I hear low groans; I enter without knocking, and
+I see the bookbinder by the bedside of his fellow-lodger. This latter
+has a violent fever and delirium. Pierre looks at him perplexed and out
+of humor. I learn from him that his comrade was not able to get up in
+the morning, and that since then he has become worse every hour.
+
+I ask whether they have sent for a doctor.
+
+“Oh, yes, indeed!” replied Pierre, roughly; “one must have money
+in one’s pocket for that, and this fellow has only debts instead of
+savings.”
+
+“But you,” said I, rather astonished; “are you not his friend?”
+
+“Friend!” interrupted the bookbinder. “Yes, as much as the shaft-horse
+is friend to the leader--on condition that each will take his share of
+the draught, and eat his feed by himself.”
+
+“You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?”
+
+“Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I’m going to the ball.”
+
+“You mean to leave him alone?”
+
+“Well! must I miss a party of pleasure at Courtville--[A Parisian summer
+resort.]--because this fellow is lightheaded?” asked Pierre, sharply. “I
+have promised to meet some friends at old Desnoyer’s. Those who are sick
+may take their broth; my physic is white wine.”
+
+So saying, he untied a bundle, out of which he took the fancy costume of
+a waterman, and proceeded to dress himself in it.
+
+In vain I tried to awaken some fellow-feeling for the unfortunate man
+who lay groaning there close by him; being entirely taken up with the
+thoughts of his expected pleasure, Pierre would hardly so much as hear
+me. At last his coarse selfishness provoked me. I began reproaching
+instead of remonstrating with him, and I declared him responsible for
+the consequences which such a desertion must bring upon the sick man.
+
+At this the bookbinder, who was just going, stopped with an oath,
+and stamped his foot. “Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for
+footbaths, pray?”
+
+“You must not leave your comrade to die without help!” I replied.
+
+“Let him go to the hospital, then!”
+
+“How can he by himself?”
+
+Pierre seemed to make up his mind.
+
+“Well, I’m going to take him,” resumed he; “besides, I shall get rid of
+him sooner. Come, get up, comrade!” He shook his comrade, who had not
+taken off his clothes. I observed that he was too weak to walk, but the
+bookbinder would not listen: he made him get up, and half dragged,
+half supported him to the lodge of the porter, who ran for a hackney
+carriage. I saw the sick man get into it, almost fainting, with the
+impatient waterman; and they both set off, one perhaps to die, the other
+to dine at Courtville Gardens!
+
+Six o’clock.--I have been to knock at my neighbor’s door, who opened it
+himself; and I have given him his letter, finished at last, and directed
+to his son’s widow. M. Antoine thanked me gratefully, and made me sit
+down.
+
+It was the first time I had been into the attic of the old amateur.
+Curtains stained with damp and hanging down in rags, a cold stove, a bed
+of straw, two broken chairs, composed all the furniture. At the end of
+the room were a great number of prints in a heap, and paintings without
+frames turned against the wall.
+
+At the moment I came in, the old man was making his dinner on some hard
+crusts of bread, which he was soaking in a glass of ‘eau sucree’. He
+perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little
+ashamed.
+
+“There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor,” said he, with a
+smile.
+
+I replied that at least I thought it a very philosophical one for the
+Carnival.
+
+M. Antoine shook his head, and went on again with his supper.
+
+“Every one keeps his holidays in his own way,” resumed he, beginning
+again to dip a crust into his glass. “There are several sorts of
+epicures, and not all feasts are meant to regale the palate; there are
+some also for the ears and the eyes.”
+
+I looked involuntarily round me, as if to seek for the invisible banquet
+which could make up to him for such a supper.
+
+Without doubt he understood me; for he got up slowly, and, with the
+magisterial air of a man confident in what he is about to do, he
+rummaged behind several picture frames, drew forth a painting, over
+which he passed his hand, and silently placed it under the light of the
+lamp.
+
+It represented a fine-looking old man, seated at table with his wife,
+his daughter, and his children, and singing to the accompaniment of
+musicians who appeared in the background. At first sight I recognized
+the subject, which I had often admired at the Louvre, and I declared it
+to be a splendid copy of Jordaens.
+
+“A copy!” cried M. Antoine; “say an original, neighbor, and an original
+retouched by Rubens! Look closer at the head of the old man, the
+dress of the young woman, and the accessories. One can count
+the pencil-strokes of the Hercules of painters. It is not only a
+masterpiece, sir; it is a treasure--a relic! The picture at the Louvre
+may be a pearl, this is a diamond!”
+
+And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light,
+he fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the
+wonderful picture. One would have said that the sight of it gave the
+crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied
+his glass by little sips. His shrivelled features became smooth, his
+nostrils expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, “a feast for the
+eyes.”
+
+“You see that I also have my treat,” he resumed, nodding his head with
+an air of triumph. “Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me,
+this is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival.”
+
+“But if this painting is really so precious,” replied I, “it ought to be
+worth a high price.”
+
+“Eh! eh!” said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference. “In good
+times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand
+francs.”
+
+I started back.
+
+“And you have bought it?” cried I.
+
+“For nothing,” replied he, lowering his voice. “These brokers are asses;
+mine mistook this for a student’s copy; he let me have it for fifty
+louis, ready money! This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes
+to be off the bargain.”
+
+“This morning!” repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter
+containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son’s
+widow, which was still on the little table.
+
+He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work
+of Jordaens in an ecstasy.
+
+“What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!” he murmured, biting his last crust in
+delight. “What relief! what fire! Where can one find such transparency
+of color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!”
+
+As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for
+admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder.
+
+“You are dazzled,” said he merrily; “you did not expect such a treasure!
+What do you say to the bargain I have made?”
+
+“Pardon me,” replied I, gravely; “but I think you might have done
+better.”
+
+M. Antoine raised his head.
+
+“How!” cried he; “do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about
+the merit or value of a painting?”
+
+“I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking
+that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have
+had--”
+
+“What then?”
+
+“The family itself, sir.”
+
+The old amateur cast a look at me, not of anger, but of contempt. In
+his eyes I had evidently just proved myself a barbarian, incapable of
+understanding the arts, and unworthy of enjoying them. He got up without
+answering me, hastily took up the Jordaens, and replaced it in its
+hiding-place behind the prints.
+
+It was a sort of dismissal; I took leave of him, and went away.
+
+Seven o’clock.--When I come in again, I find my water boiling over
+my lamp, and I busy myself in grinding my Mocha, and setting out my
+coffee-things.
+
+The getting coffee ready is the most delicate and most attractive of
+domestic operations to one who lives alone: it is the grand work of a
+bachelor’s housekeeping.
+
+Coffee is, so to say, just the mid-point between bodily and spiritual
+nourishment. It acts agreeably, and at the same time, upon the senses
+and the thoughts. Its very fragrance gives a sort of delightful
+activity to the wits; it is a genius that lends wings to our fancy, and
+transports it to the land of the Arabian Nights.
+
+When I am buried in my old easy-chair, my feet on the fender before a
+blazing fire, my ear soothed by the singing of the coffee-pot, which
+seems to gossip with my fire-irons, the sense of smell gently excited by
+the aroma of the Arabian bean, and my eyes shaded by my cap pulled down
+over them, it often seems as if each cloud of the fragrant steam took a
+distinct form. As in the mirages of the desert, in each as it rises, I
+see some image of which my mind had been longing for the reality.
+
+At first the vapor increases, and its color deepens. I see a cottage
+on a hillside: behind is a garden shut in by a whitethorn hedge, and
+through the garden runs a brook, on the banks of which I hear the bees
+humming.
+
+Then the view opens still more. See those fields planted with
+apple-trees, in which I can distinguish a plough and horses waiting for
+their master! Farther on, in a part of the wood which rings with the
+sound of the axe, I perceive the woodsman’s hut, roofed with turf and
+branches; and, in the midst of all these rural pictures, I seem to see a
+figure of myself gliding about. It is my ghost walking in my dream!
+
+The bubbling of the water, ready to boil over, compels me to break off
+my meditations, in order to fill up the coffee-pot. I then remember
+that I have no cream; I take my tin can off the hook and go down to the
+milkwoman’s.
+
+Mother Denis is a hale countrywoman from Savoy, which she left when
+quite young; and, contrary to the custom of the Savoyards, she has
+not gone back to it again. She has neither husband nor child,
+notwithstanding the title they give her; but her kindness, which never
+sleeps, makes her worthy of the name of mother.
+
+A brave creature! Left by herself in the battle of life, she makes good
+her humble place in it by working, singing, helping others, and leaving
+the rest to God.
+
+At the door of the milk-shop I hear loud bursts of laughter. In one of
+the corners of the shop three children are sitting on the ground. They
+wear the sooty dress of Savoyard boys, and in their hands they hold
+large slices of bread and cheese. The youngest is besmeared up to the
+eyes with his, and that is the reason of their mirth.
+
+Mother Denis points them out to me.
+
+“Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!” said she, putting
+her hand on the head of the little glutton.
+
+“He has had no breakfast,” puts in one of the others by way of excuse.
+
+“Poor little thing,” said the milkwoman; “he is left alone in the
+streets of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good
+God!”
+
+“And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?” I replied, gently.
+
+“What I do is little enough,” said Mother Denis, measuring out my milk;
+“but every day I get some of them together out of the street, that for
+once they may have enough to eat. Dear children! their mothers will make
+up for it in heaven. Not to mention that they recall my native mountains
+to me: when they sing and dance, I seem to see our old father again.”
+
+Here her eyes filled with tears.
+
+“So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?”
+ resumed I.
+
+“Yes! yes!” said she, “and by their happiness, too! The laughter of
+these little ones, sir, is like a bird’s song; it makes you gay, and
+gives you heart to live.”
+
+As she spoke she cut some fresh slices of bread and cheese, and added
+some apples and a handful of nuts to them.
+
+“Come, my little dears,” she cried, “put these into your pockets against
+to-morrow.”
+
+Then, turning to me:
+
+“To-day I am ruining myself,” added she; “but we must all have our
+Carnival.”
+
+I came away without saying a word: I was too much affected.
+
+At last I have discovered what true pleasure is. After beholding
+the egotism of sensuality and of intellect, I have found the happy
+self-sacrifice of goodness. Pierre, M. Antoine, and Mother Denis had all
+kept their Carnival; but for the first two, it was only a feast for the
+senses or the mind; while for the third, it was a feast for the heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW
+
+March 3d
+
+A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have
+compared it to a night of fever! What alternate fits of restlessness and
+sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst!
+what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies! We can neither sleep
+nor wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of
+action. Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the
+last third in repenting.
+
+When I say human existence, I mean my own! We are so made that each of
+us regards himself as the mirror of the community: what passes in our
+minds infallibly seems to us a history of the universe. Every man is
+like the drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself
+staggering.
+
+And why am I uncertain and restless--I, a poor day-laborer in the
+world--who fill an obscure station in a corner of it, and whose work
+it avails itself of, without heeding the workman? I will tell you, my
+unseen friend, for whom these lines are written; my unknown brother, on
+whom the solitary call in sorrow; my imaginary confidant, to whom
+all monologues are addressed and who is but the shadow of our own
+conscience.
+
+A great event has happened in my life! A crossroad has suddenly opened
+in the middle of the monotonous way along which I was travelling
+quietly, and without thinking of it. Two roads present themselves, and
+I must choose between them. One is only the continuation of that I have
+followed till now; the other is wider, and exhibits wondrous prospects.
+On the first there is nothing to fear, but also little to hope; on the
+other are great dangers and great fortune. Briefly, the question is,
+whether I shall give up the humble office in which I thought to die,
+for one of those bold speculations in which chance alone is banker! Ever
+since yesterday I have consulted with myself; I have compared the two
+and I remain undecided.
+
+Where shall I find light--who will advise me?
+
+Sunday, 4th.--See the sun coming out from the thick fogs of winter!
+Spring announces its approach; a soft breeze skims over the roofs, and
+my wallflower begins to blow again.
+
+We are near that sweet season of fresh green, of which the poets of the
+sixteenth century sang with so much feeling:
+
+          Now the gladsome month of May
+          All things newly doth array;
+          Fairest lady, let me too
+          In thy love my life renew.
+
+The chirping of the sparrows calls me: they claim the crumbs I scatter
+to them every morning. I open my window, and the prospect of roofs opens
+out before me in all its splendor.
+
+He who has lived only on a first floor has no idea of the picturesque
+variety of such a view. He has never contemplated these tile-colored
+heights which intersect each other; he has not followed with his eyes
+these gutter-valleys, where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens
+waves, the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes,
+and the sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to
+a blaze of fire. He has not studied the flora of these Alps of
+civilization, carpeted by lichens and mosses; he is not acquainted with
+the myriad inhabitants that people them, from the microscopic insect to
+the domestic cat--that reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl,
+or in ambush; he has not witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or
+a cloudy sky; nor the thousand effects of light, that make these upper
+regions a theatre with ever-changing scenes! How many times have my
+days of leisure passed away in contemplating this wonderful sight; in
+discovering its darker or brighter episodes; in seeking, in short, in
+this unknown world for the impressions of travel that wealthy tourists
+look for lower!
+
+Nine o’clock.--But why, then, have not my winged neighbors picked up the
+crumbs I have scattered for them before my window? I see them fly away,
+come back, perch upon the ledges of the windows, and chirp at the sight
+of the feast they are usually so ready to devour! It is not my presence
+that frightens them; I have accustomed them to eat out of my hand. Then,
+why this fearful suspense? In vain I look around: the roof is clear,
+the windows near are closed. I crumble the bread that remains from my
+breakfast to attract them by an ampler feast. Their chirpings increase,
+they bend down their heads, the boldest approach upon the wing, but
+without daring to alight.
+
+Come, come, my sparrows are the victims of one of the foolish panics
+which make the funds fall at the Bourse! It is plain that birds are not
+more reasonable than men!
+
+With this reflection I was about to shut my window, when suddenly
+I perceived, in a spot of sunshine on my right, the shadow of two
+pricked-up ears; then a paw advanced, then the head of a tabby-cat
+showed itself at the corner of the gutter. The cunning fellow was lying
+there in wait, hoping the crumbs would bring him some game.
+
+And I had accused my guests of cowardice! I was so sure that no danger
+could menace them! I thought I had looked well everywhere! I had only
+forgotten the corner behind me!
+
+In life, as on the roofs, how many misfortunes come from having
+forgotten a single corner!
+
+Ten o’clock.--I cannot leave my window; the rain and the cold have kept
+it shut so long that I must reconnoitre all the environs to be able
+to take possession of them again. My eyes search in succession all the
+points of the jumbled and confused prospect, passing on or stopping
+according to what they light upon.
+
+Ah! see the windows upon which they formerly loved to rest; they are
+those of two unknown neighbors, whose different habits they have long
+remarked.
+
+One is a poor work-woman, who rises before sunrise, and whose profile is
+shadowed upon her little muslin window-curtain far into the evening; the
+other is a young songstress, whose vocal flourishes sometimes reach my
+attic by snatches. When their windows are open, that of the work-woman
+discovers a humble but decent abode; the other, an elegantly furnished
+room. But to-day a crowd of tradespeople throng the latter: they take
+down the silk hangings and carry off the furniture, and I now remember
+that the young singer passed under my window this morning with her veil
+down, and walking with the hasty step of one who suffers some inward
+trouble. Ah! I guess it all. Her means are exhausted in elegant fancies,
+or have been taken away by some unexpected misfortune, and now she has
+fallen from luxury to indigence. While the work-woman manages not only
+to keep her little room, but also to furnish it with decent comfort by
+her steady toil, that of the singer is become the property of brokers.
+The one sparkled for a moment on the wave of prosperity; the other sails
+slowly but safely along the coast of a humble and laborious industry.
+
+Alas! is there not here a lesson for us all? Is it really in hazardous
+experiments, at the end of which we shall meet with wealth or ruin, that
+the wise man should employ his years of strength and freedom? Ought he
+to consider life as a regular employment which brings its daily wages,
+or as a game in which the future is determined by a few throws? Why seek
+the risk of extreme chances? For what end hasten to riches by dangerous
+roads? Is it really certain that happiness is the prize of brilliant
+successes, rather than of a wisely accepted poverty? Ah! if men but
+knew in what a small dwelling joy can live, and how little it costs to
+furnish it!
+
+Twelve o’clock.--I have been walking up and down my attic for a long
+time, with my arms folded and my eyes on the ground! My doubts increase,
+like shadows encroaching more and more on some bright space; my fears
+multiply; and the uncertainty becomes every moment more painful to me!
+It is necessary for me to decide to-day, and before the evening! I hold
+the dice of my future fate in my hands, and I dare not throw them.
+
+Three o’clock.--The sky has become cloudy, and a cold wind begins to
+blow from the west; all the windows which were opened to the sunshine of
+a beautiful day are shut again. Only on the opposite side of the street,
+the lodger on the last story has not yet left his balcony.
+
+One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, his gray moustaches,
+and the ribbon that decorates his buttonhole. Indeed, one might have
+guessed as much from the care he takes of the little garden which is the
+ornament of his balcony in mid-air; for there are two things especially
+loved by all old soldiers--flowers and children. They have been so long,
+obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut off
+from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin life
+at an age when others end it. The tastes of their early years, which
+were arrested by the stern duties of war, suddenly break out again with
+their white hairs, and are like the savings of youth which they spend
+again in old age. Besides, they have been condemned to be destroyers for
+so long that perhaps they feel a secret pleasure in creating, and
+seeing life spring up again: the beauty of weakness has a grace and
+an attraction the more for those who have been the agents of unbending
+force; and the watching over the frail germs of life has all the charms
+of novelty for these old workmen of death.
+
+Therefore the cold wind has not driven my neighbor from his balcony.
+He is digging up the earth in his green boxes, and carefully sowing the
+seeds of the scarlet nasturtium, convolvulus, and sweet-pea. Henceforth
+he will come every day to watch for their first sprouting, to protect
+the young shoots from weeds or insects, to arrange the strings for the
+tendrils to climb on, and carefully to regulate their supply of water
+and heat!
+
+How much labor to bring in the desired harvest! For that, how many times
+shall I see him brave cold or heat, wind or sun, as he does to-day! But
+then, in the hot summer days, when the blinding dust whirls in clouds
+through our streets, when the eye, dazzled by the glare of white stucco,
+knows not where to rest, and the glowing roofs reflect their heat
+upon us to burning, the old soldier will sit in his arbor and perceive
+nothing but green leaves and flowers around him, and the breeze will
+come cool and fresh to him through these perfumed shades. His assiduous
+care will be rewarded at last.
+
+We must sow the seeds, and tend the growth, if we would enjoy the
+flower.
+
+Four o’clock.--The clouds that have been gathering in the horizon for
+a long time are become darker; it thunders loudly, and the rain pours
+down! Those who are caught in it fly in every direction, some laughing
+and some crying.
+
+I always find particular amusement in these helter-skelters, caused by
+a sudden storm. It seems as if each one, when thus taken by surprise,
+loses the factitious character that the world or habit has given him,
+and appears in his true colors.
+
+See, for example, that big man with deliberate step, who suddenly
+forgets his indifference, made to order, and runs like a schoolboy!
+He is a thrifty city gentleman, who, with all his fashionable airs, is
+afraid to spoil his hat.
+
+That pretty woman yonder, on the contrary, whose looks are so modest,
+and whose dress is so elaborate, slackens her pace with the increasing
+storm. She seems to find pleasure in braving it, and does not think
+of her velvet cloak spotted by the hail! She is evidently a lioness in
+sheep’s clothing.
+
+Here, a young man, who was passing, stops to catch some of the
+hailstones in his hand, and examines them. By his quick and
+business-like walk just now, you would have taken him for a tax-gatherer
+on his rounds, when he is a young philosopher, studying the effects of
+electricity. And those schoolboys who leave their ranks to run after the
+sudden gusts of a March whirlwind; those girls, just now so demure, but
+who now fly with bursts of laughter; those national guards, who quit the
+martial attitude of their days of duty to take refuge under a porch! The
+storm has caused all these transformations.
+
+See, it increases! The hardiest are obliged to seek shelter. I see
+every one rushing toward the shop in front of my window, which a bill
+announces is to let. It is for the fourth time within a few months. A
+year ago all the skill of the joiner and the art of the painter were
+employed in beautifying it, but their works are already destroyed by the
+leaving of so many tenants; the cornices of the front are disfigured by
+mud; the arabesques on the doorway are spoiled by bills posted upon them
+to announce the sale of the effects. The splendid shop has lost some of
+its embellishments with each change of the tenant. See it now empty, and
+left open to the passersby. How much does its fate resemble that of so
+many who, like it, only change their occupation to hasten the faster to
+ruin!
+
+I am struck by this last reflection: since the morning everything seems
+to speak to me, and with the same warning tone. Everything says: “Take
+care! be content with your happy, though humble lot; happiness can be
+retained only by constancy; do not forsake your old patrons for the
+protection of those who are unknown!”
+
+Are they the outward objects which speak thus, or does the warning
+come from within? Is it not I myself who give this language to all that
+surrounds me? The world is but an instrument, to which we give sound at
+will. But what does it signify if it teaches us wisdom? The low voice
+that speaks in our breasts is always a friendly voice, for it tells
+us what we are, that is to say, what is our capability. Bad conduct
+results, for the most part, from mistaking our calling. There are so
+many fools and knaves, because there are so few men who know themselves.
+The question is not to discover what will suit us, but for what we are
+suited!
+
+What should I do among these many experienced financial speculators? I
+am only a poor sparrow, born among the housetops, and should always
+fear the enemy crouching in the dark corner; I am a prudent workman,
+and should think of the business of my neighbors who so suddenly
+disappeared; I am a timid observer, and should call to mind the flowers
+so slowly raised by the old soldier, or the shop brought to ruin by
+constant change of masters. Away from me, ye banquets, over which hangs
+the sword of Damocles! I am a country mouse. Give me my nuts and hollow
+tree, and I ask nothing besides--except security.
+
+And why this insatiable craving for riches? Does a man drink more when
+he drinks from a large glass? Whence comes that universal dread of
+mediocrity, the fruitful mother of peace and liberty? Ah! there is the
+evil which, above every other, it should be the aim of both public and
+private education to anticipate! If that were got rid of, what treasons
+would be spared, what baseness avoided, what a chain of excess and
+crime would be forever broken! We award the palm to charity, and to
+self-sacrifice; but, above all, let us award it to moderation, for it
+is the great social virtue. Even when it does not create the others, it
+stands instead of them.
+
+Six o’clock.--I have written a letter of thanks to the promoters of
+the new speculation, and have declined their offer! This decision has
+restored my peace of mind. I stopped singing, like the cobbler, as long
+as I entertained the hope of riches: it is gone, and happiness is come
+back!
+
+O beloved and gentle Poverty! pardon me for having for a moment wished
+to fly from thee, as I would from Want. Stay here forever with thy
+charming sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my
+queens and my instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far
+from my abode the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow
+prosperity. Holy Poverty! teach me to endure without complaining,
+to impart without grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in
+pleasure, farther off than in power. Thou givest the body strength, thou
+makest the mind more firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the
+rich attach themselves as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may
+cut the cable without awakening all our fears. Continue to sustain me, O
+thou whom Christ hath called Blessed!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER
+
+April 9th
+
+The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their
+shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets
+of the flower-girls--all the world have begun their walks again on the
+quays and boulevards. After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to
+breathe the evening air.
+
+It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty. During the day
+the plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous
+whiteness; heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge
+wheels; the eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment
+from business, cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city
+altogether has something harsh, restless, and flurried about it. But, as
+soon as the stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white
+houses is quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling
+but that of the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you
+see only the lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given
+place to leisure. Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through
+the business of the day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives
+to pleasure! See the ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the
+eating-shops along the walks set out with dainties, and the twinkling
+lanterns of the newspaper criers. Decidedly Paris has laid aside the
+pen, the ruler, and the apron; after the day spent in work, it must have
+the evening for enjoyment; like the masters of Thebes, it has put off
+all serious matter till tomorrow.
+
+I love to take part in this happy hour; not to mix in the general
+gayety, but to contemplate it. If the enjoyments of others embitter
+jealous minds, they strengthen the humble spirit; they are the beams of
+sunshine, which open the two beautiful flowers called trust and hope.
+
+Although alone in the midst of the smiling multitude, I do not feel
+myself isolated from it, for its gayety is reflected upon me: it is my
+own kind, my own family, who are enjoying life, and I take a brother’s
+share in their happiness. We are all fellow-soldiers in this earthly
+battle, and what does it matter on whom the honors of the victory fall?
+If Fortune passes by without seeing us, and pours her favors on others,
+let us console ourselves, like the friend of Parmenio, by saying,
+“Those, too, are Alexanders.”
+
+While making these reflections, I was going on as chance took me. I
+crossed from one pavement to another, I retraced my steps, I stopped
+before the shops or to read the handbills. How many things there are
+to learn in the streets of Paris! What a museum it is! Unknown fruits,
+foreign arms, furniture of old times or other lands, animals of all
+climates, statues of great men, costumes of distant nations! It is the
+world seen in samples!
+
+Let us then look at this people, whose knowledge is gained from the
+shop-windows and the tradesman’s display of goods. Nothing has been
+taught them, but they have a rude notion of everything. They have
+seen pineapples at Chevet’s, a palm-tree in the Jardin des Plantes,
+sugar-canes selling on the Pont-Neuf. The Redskins, exhibited in the
+Valentine Hall, have taught them to mimic the dance of the bison, and to
+smoke the calumet of peace; they have seen Carter’s lions fed; they
+know the principal national costumes contained in Babin’s collection;
+Goupil’s display of prints has placed the tiger-hunts of Africa and the
+sittings of the English Parliament before their eyes; they have become
+acquainted with Queen Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, and Kossuth, at
+the office-door of the Illustrated News. We can certainly instruct them,
+but not astonish them; for nothing is completely new to them. You may
+take the Paris ragamuffin through the five quarters of the world, and
+at every wonder with which you think to surprise him, he will settle the
+matter with that favorite and conclusive answer of his class--“I know.”
+
+But this variety of exhibitions, which makes Paris the fair of the
+world, does not offer merely a means of instruction to him who walks
+through it; it is a continual spur for rousing the imagination, a first
+step of the ladder always set up before us in a vision. When we see
+them, how many voyages do we take in imagination, what adventures do we
+dream of, what pictures do we sketch! I never look at that shop near
+the Chinese baths, with its tapestry hangings of Florida jessamine,
+and filled with magnolias, without seeing the forest glades of the New
+World, described by the author of Atala, opening themselves out before
+me.
+
+Then, when this study of things and this discourse of reason begin to
+tire you, look around you! What contrasts of figures and faces you
+see in the crowd! What a vast field for the exercise of meditation! A
+half-seen glance, or a few words caught as the speaker passes by, open
+a thousand vistas to your imagination. You wish to comprehend what these
+imperfect disclosures mean, and, as the antiquary endeavors to decipher
+the mutilated inscription on some old monument, you build up a history
+on a gesture or on a word! These are the stirring sports of the mind,
+which finds in fiction a relief from the wearisome dullness of the
+actual.
+
+Alas! as I was just now passing by the carriage-entrance of a great
+house, I noticed a sad subject for one of these histories. A man was
+sitting in the darkest corner, with his head bare, and holding out his
+hat for the charity of those who passed. His threadbare coat had that
+look of neatness which marks that destitution has been met by a long
+struggle. He had carefully buttoned it up to hide the want of a shirt.
+His face was half hid under his gray hair, and his eyes were closed, as
+if he wished to escape the sight of his own humiliation, and he remained
+mute and motionless. Those who passed him took no notice of the beggar,
+who sat in silence and darkness! They had been so lucky as to escape
+complaints and importunities, and were glad to turn away their eyes too.
+
+Suddenly the great gate turned on its hinges; and a very low carriage,
+lighted with silver lamps and drawn by two black horses, came slowly
+out, and took the road toward the Faubourg St. Germain. I could just
+distinguish, within, the sparkling diamonds and the flowers of a
+ball-dress; the glare of the lamps passed like a bloody streak over
+the pale face of the beggar, and showed his look as his eyes opened and
+followed the rich man’s equipage until it disappeared in the night.
+
+I dropped a small piece of money into the hat he was holding out, and
+passed on quickly.
+
+I had just fallen unexpectedly upon the two saddest secrets of the
+disease which troubles the age we live in: the envious hatred of him
+who suffers want, and the selfish forgetfulness of him who lives in
+affluence.
+
+All the enjoyment of my walk was gone; I left off looking about me, and
+retired into my own heart. The animated and moving sight in the streets
+gave place to inward meditation upon all the painful problems which
+have been written for the last four thousand years at the bottom of each
+human struggle, but which are propounded more clearly than ever in our
+days.
+
+I pondered on the uselessness of so many contests, in which defeat and
+victory only displace each other by turns, and on the mistaken zealots
+who have repeated from generation to generation the bloody history of
+Cain and Abel; and, saddened with these mournful reflections, I walked
+on as chance took me, until the silence all around insensibly drew me
+out from my own thoughts.
+
+I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live
+in comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection,
+delight to find a home. There were no shops along the dimly lighted
+street; one heard no sounds but of distant carriages, and of the steps
+of some of the inhabitants returning quietly home.
+
+I instantly recognized the street, though I had been there only once
+before.
+
+That was two years ago. I was walking at the time by the side of the
+Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of
+a lake surrounded by a garland of stars; and I had reached the Louvre,
+when I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet they had
+gathered round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the
+cause of his tears.
+
+“It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries,” said a mason, who
+was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; “the servant
+who took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to
+wait for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made
+him more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find
+his way home.”
+
+“Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?”
+
+“They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that
+he is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval--there are
+twelve hundred Duvals in Paris.”
+
+“Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?”
+
+“I should not think, indeed! Don’t you see that he is a gentleman’s
+child? He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he
+does not know what to do by himself.”
+
+Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the
+others.
+
+“We cannot leave him in the street,” said some.
+
+“The child-stealers would carry him off,” continued others.
+
+“We must take him to the overseer.”
+
+“Or to the police-office.”
+
+“That’s the thing. Come, little one!”
+
+But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the
+names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the
+parapet. In vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist
+the more, and the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a
+little boy was heard through the confusion.
+
+“I know him well--I do,” said he, looking at the lost child; “he belongs
+in our part of the town.”
+
+“What part is it?”
+
+“Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards--Rue des Magasins.”
+
+“And you have seen him before?”
+
+“Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where
+there is an iron gate with gilt points.”
+
+The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy
+answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details
+as left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went
+up to him as if to put himself under his protection.
+
+“Then you can take him to his parents?” asked the mason, who had
+listened with real interest to the little boy’s account.
+
+“I don’t care if I do,” replied he; “it’s the way I’m going.”
+
+“Then you will take charge of him?”
+
+“He has only to come with me.”
+
+And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pavement, he set off
+toward the postern-gate of the Louvre.
+
+The lost child followed him.
+
+“I hope he will take him right,” said I, when I saw them go away.
+
+“Never fear,” replied the mason; “the little one in the blouse is
+the same age as the other; but, as the saying is, he knows black from
+white;’ poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress!”
+
+The crowd dispersed. For my part, I went toward the Louvre; the thought
+came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any
+mistake.
+
+I was not long in overtaking them; they were walking side by side,
+talking, and already quite familiar with each other. The contrast in
+their dress then struck me. Little Duval wore one of those fanciful
+children’s dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste; his
+coat was skilfully fitted to his figure, his trousers came down
+in plaits from his waist to his boots of polished leather with
+mother-of-pearl buttons, and his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap.
+The appearance of his guide, on the contrary, was that of the class who
+dwell on the extreme borders of poverty, but who there maintain their
+ground with no surrender. His old blouse, patched with pieces of
+different shades, indicated the perseverance of an industrious mother
+struggling against the wear and tear of time; his trousers were become
+too short, and showed his stockings darned over and over again; and it
+was evident that his shoes were not made for him.
+
+The countenances of the two children were not less different than their
+dress. That of the first was delicate and refined; his clear blue
+eye, his fair skin, and his smiling mouth gave him a charming look of
+innocence and happiness. The features of the other, on the contrary, had
+something rough in them; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion
+dark, his smile less merry than shrewd; all showed a mind sharpened by
+too early experience; he walked boldly through the middle of the streets
+thronged by carriages, and followed their countless turnings without
+hesitation.
+
+I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father,
+who was then working on the left bank of the Seine; and this responsible
+duty had made him careful and prudent. He had learned those hard but
+forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal or supply the
+place of. Unfortunately, the wants of his poor family had kept him from
+school, and he seemed to feel the loss; for he often stopped before
+the printshops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the
+engravings. In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which
+the little wanderer seemed to know again. Notwithstanding his fatigue,
+he hurried on; he was agitated by mixed feelings; at the sight of his
+house he uttered a cry, and ran toward the iron gate with the gilt
+points; a lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her
+arms, and from the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon
+perceived she was his mother.
+
+Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of
+them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety.
+
+I explained to her in a few words what had happened. She thanked me
+warmly, and looked round for the little boy who had recognized and
+brought back her son; but while we were talking, he had disappeared.
+
+It was for the first time since then that I had come into this part of
+Paris. Did the mother continue grateful? Had the children met again, and
+had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that
+barrier which may mark the different ranks of men, but should not divide
+them?
+
+While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed
+my eyes on the great gate, which I just perceived. Suddenly I saw it
+open, and two children appeared at the entrance. Although much grown, I
+recognized them at first sight; they were the child who was found near
+the parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide. But the dress of the
+latter was greatly changed: his blouse of gray cloth was neat, and even
+spruce, and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt; he
+wore strong shoes, but made for his feet, and had on a new cloth cap.
+Just at the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch
+of lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and
+primroses; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-by.
+M. Duval’s son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner
+of the street.
+
+Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting; he
+looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me.
+
+“Forgive me if I do not make you a bow,” said he, merrily, “but I want
+both my hands for the nosegay Monsieur Charles has given me.”
+
+“You are, then, become great friends?” said I.
+
+“Oh! I should think so,” said the child; “and now my father is rich
+too!”
+
+“How’s that?”
+
+“Monsieur Duval lent him some money; he has taken a shop, where he works
+on his own account; and, as for me, I go to school.”
+
+“Yes,” replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated
+his little coat; “and I see that you are head-boy!”
+
+“Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in
+the class.”
+
+“Are you now going to your lessons?”
+
+“Yes, and he has given me some lilacs; for he has a garden where we play
+together, and where my mother can always have flowers.”
+
+“Then it is the same as if it were partly your own.”
+
+“So it is! Ah! they are good neighbors indeed. But here I am; good-by,
+sir.”
+
+He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared.
+
+I went on with my walk, still pensive, but with a feeling of relief.
+If I had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast between affluence
+and want, here I had found the true union of riches and poverty. Hearty
+good-will had smoothed down the more rugged inequalities on both sides,
+and had opened a road of true neighborhood and fellowship between the
+humble workshop and the stately mansion. Instead of hearkening to the
+voice of interest, they had both listened to that of self-sacrifice,
+and there was no place left for contempt or envy. Thus, instead of the
+beggar in rags, that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man,
+I had found here the happy child of the laborer loaded with flowers and
+blessing him! The problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into
+with no regard but for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. COMPENSATION
+
+Sunday, May 27th
+
+Capital cities have one thing peculiar to them: their days of rest seem
+to be the signal for a general dispersion and flight. Like birds that
+are just restored to liberty, the people come out of their stone cages,
+and joyfully fly toward the country. It is who shall find a green
+hillock for a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather
+May flowers, they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until
+the evening, when they return with sprigs of blooming hawthorn in their
+hats, and their hearts gladdened by pleasant thoughts and recollections
+of the past day; the next day they return again to their harness and to
+work.
+
+These rural adventures are most remarkable at Paris. When the fine
+weather comes, clerks, shop keepers, and workingmen look forward
+impatiently for the Sunday as the day for trying a few hours of this
+pastoral life; they walk through six miles of grocers’ shops and
+public-houses in the faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real
+turnip-field. The father of a family begins the practical education of
+his son by showing him wheat which has not taken the form of a loaf,
+and cabbage “in its wild state.” Heaven only knows the encounters, the
+discoveries, the adventures that are met with! What Parisian has not had
+his Odyssey in an excursion through the suburbs, and would not be able
+to write a companion to the famous Travels by Land and by Sea from Paris
+to St. Cloud?
+
+We do not now speak of that floating population from all parts, for whom
+our French Babylon is the caravansary of Europe: a phalanx of thinkers,
+artists, men of business, and travellers, who, like Homer’s hero, have
+arrived in their intellectual country after beholding “many peoples and
+cities;” but of the settled Parisian, who keeps his appointed place, and
+lives on his own floor like the oyster on his rock, a curious vestige of
+the credulity, the slowness, and the simplicity of bygone ages.
+
+For one of the singularities of Paris is, that it unites twenty
+populations completely different in character and manners. By the
+side of the gypsies of commerce and of art, who wander through all the
+several stages of fortune or fancy, live a quiet race of people with an
+independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial
+of a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours. If
+no other city can show more brilliant and more stirring forms of life,
+no other contains more obscure and more tranquil ones. Great cities are
+like the sea: storms agitate only the surface; if you go to the bottom,
+you find a region inaccessible to the tumult and the noise.
+
+For my part, I have settled on the verge of this region, but do not
+actually live in it. I am removed from the turmoil of the world, and
+live in the shelter of solitude, but without being able to disconnect
+my thoughts from the struggle going on. I follow at a distance all its
+events of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for
+how can he who looks on, and knows what passes, do other than take part?
+Ignorance alone can keep us strangers to the life around us: selfishness
+itself will not suffice for that.
+
+These reflections I made to myself in my attic, in the intervals of the
+various household works to which a bachelor is forced when he has
+no other servant than his own ready will. While I was pursuing my
+deductions, I had blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and tied my
+cravat; I had at last arrived at the important moment when we pronounce
+complacently that all is finished, and that well.
+
+A grand resolve had just decided me to depart from my usual habits. The
+evening before, I had seen by the advertisements that the next day was
+a holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would be open to the
+public. I was tempted by the beauty of the morning, and suddenly decided
+to go there.
+
+On my arrival at the station on the left bank, I noticed the crowd
+hurrying on in the fear of being late. Railroads, besides many other
+advantages, possess that of teaching the French punctuality. They will
+submit to the clock when they are convinced that it is their master;
+they will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for.
+Social virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits. How many great
+qualities are grafted into nations by their geographical position, by
+political necessity, and by institutions! Avarice was destroyed for a
+time among the Lacedaemonians by the creation of an iron coinage, too
+heavy and too bulky to be conveniently hoarded.
+
+I found myself in a carriage with two middle-aged women belonging to the
+domestic and retired class of Parisians I have spoken of above. A few
+civilities were sufficient to gain me their confidence, and after some
+minutes I was acquainted with their whole history.
+
+They were two poor sisters, left orphans at fifteen, and had lived ever
+since, as those who work for their livelihood must live, by economy
+and privation. For the last twenty or thirty years they had worked
+in jewelry in the same house; they had seen ten masters succeed one
+another, and make their fortunes in it, without any change in their own
+lot. They had always lived in the same room, at the end of one of the
+passages in the Rue St. Denis, where the air and the sun are unknown.
+They began their work before daylight, went on with it till after
+nightfall, and saw year succeed to year without their lives being marked
+by any other events than the Sunday service, a walk, or an illness.
+
+The younger of these worthy work-women was forty, and obeyed her sister
+as she did when a child. The elder looked after her, took care of her,
+and scolded her with a mother’s tenderness. At first it was amusing;
+afterward one could not help seeing something affecting in these two
+gray-haired children, one unable to leave off the habit of obeying, the
+other that of protecting.
+
+And it was not in that alone that my two companions seemed younger than
+their years; they knew so little that their wonder never ceased. We had
+hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily exclaimed, like the
+king in the children’s game, that they “did not think the world was so
+great”!
+
+It was the first time they had trusted themselves on a railroad, and
+it was amusing to see their sudden shocks, their alarms, and their
+courageous determinations: everything was a marvel to them! They had
+remains of youth within them, which made them sensible to things which
+usually only strike us in childhood. Poor creatures! they had still the
+feelings of another age, though they had lost its charms.
+
+But was there not something holy in this simplicity, which had been
+preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life? Ah! accursed
+be he who first had the bad courage to attach ridicule to that name
+of “old maid,” which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of
+dreariness, and of abandonment! Accursed be he who can find a subject
+for sarcasm in involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with
+thorns!
+
+The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine. This day’s journey
+was a feat of courage without example in their lives. The fever of
+the times had infected them unawares. Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly
+proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it
+immediately. Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great
+temptation offered by her younger sister; but “we have our follies
+at all ages,” as the prudent Frances philosophically remarked. As
+for Madeleine, there are no regrets or doubts for her; she is the
+life-guardsman of the establishment.
+
+“We really must amuse ourselves,” said she; “we live but once.”
+
+And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim. It was evident that
+the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.
+
+And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had
+interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial! The sight
+of the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused
+them unceasing admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary
+direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut
+their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared! They look
+around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment
+at the marvel.
+
+Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the
+journey, and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not
+recollected, with some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense
+must make in their budget. The three francs spent upon this single
+expedition were the savings of a whole week of work. Thus the joy of the
+elder of the two sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now
+and then turned its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.
+
+But the motion and the succession of objects distract her. See the
+bridge of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right,
+Paris with its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle
+in the sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines,
+and its royal castle! The two work-women look from one window to the
+other with exclamations of delight. One fellow-passenger laughs at their
+childish wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the
+sign of a long and monotonous seclusion: they are the prisoners of work,
+who have recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours.
+
+At last the train stops, and we get out. I show the two sisters the path
+that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go
+on before, while I inquire about the time of returning.
+
+I soon join them again at the next station, where they have stopped at
+the little garden belonging to the gatekeeper; both are already in deep
+conversation with him while he digs his garden-borders, and marks out
+the places for flower-seeds. He informs them that it is the time for
+hoeing out weeds, for making grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and
+for destroying the insects on the rose-trees. Madeleine has on the sill
+of her window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she
+has never been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she
+persuades herself that, thanks to this information, all other plants
+may henceforth thrive in them. At last the gatekeeper, who is sowing a
+border with mignonette, gives her the rest of the seeds which he does
+not want, and the old maid goes off delighted, and begins to act over
+again the dream of Paired and her can of milk, with these flowers of her
+imagination.
+
+On reaching the grove of acacias, where the fair was going on, I lost
+sight of the two sisters. I went alone among the sights: there were
+lotteries going on, mountebank shows, places for eating and drinking,
+and for shooting with the cross-bow. I have always been struck by the
+spirit of these out-of-door festivities. In drawing-room entertainments,
+people are cold, grave, often listless, and most of those who go there
+are brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the
+country assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are
+attracted by the hope of enjoyment. There, it is a forced conscription;
+here, they are volunteers for gayety! Then, how easily they are pleased!
+How far this crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with
+nothing, and to look down on everything, is the height of fashion and
+good taste! Doubtless their amusements are often coarse; elegance and
+refinement are wanting in them; but at least they have heartiness. Oh,
+that the hearty enjoyments of these merry-makings could be retained
+in union with less vulgar feeling! Formerly religion stamped its holy
+character on the celebration of country festivals, and purified the
+pleasures without depriving them of their simplicity.
+
+The hour arrives at which the doors of the porcelain manufactory and the
+museum of pottery are open to the public. I meet Frances and Madeleine
+again in the first room. Frightened at finding themselves in the midst
+of such regal magnificence, they hardly dare walk; they speak in a low
+tone, as if they were in a church.
+
+“We are in the king’s house,” said the eldest sister, forgetting that
+there is no longer a king in France.
+
+I encourage them to go on; I walk first, and they make up their minds to
+follow me.
+
+What wonders are brought together in this collection! Here we see clay
+moulded into every shape, tinted with every color, and combined with
+every sort of substance!
+
+Earth and wood are the first substances worked upon by man, and seem
+more particularly meant for his use. They, like the domestic animals,
+are the essential accessories of his life; therefore there must be a
+more intimate connection between them and us. Stone and metals require
+long preparations; they resist our first efforts, and belong less to the
+individual than to communities. Earth and wood are, on the contrary, the
+principal instruments of the isolated being who must feed and shelter
+himself.
+
+This, doubtless, makes me feel so much interested in the collection I am
+examining. These cups, so roughly modelled by the savage, admit me to
+a knowledge of some of his habits; these elegant yet incorrectly formed
+vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence,--in which still
+glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; these jars,
+loaded with arabesques, show the fancy of the Arab rudely and ignorantly
+copied by the Spaniard! We find here the stamp of every race, every
+country, and every age.
+
+My companions seemed little interested in these historical associations;
+they looked at all with that credulous admiration which leaves no room
+for examination or discussion. Madeleine read the name written under
+every piece of workmanship, and her sister answered with an exclamation
+of wonder.
+
+In this way we reached a little courtyard, where they had thrown away
+the fragments of some broken china.
+
+Frances perceived a colored saucer almost whole, of which she took
+possession as a record of the visit she was making; henceforth she would
+have a specimen of the Sevres china, “which is only made for kings!”
+ I would not undeceive her by telling her that the products of the
+manufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before
+it was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for
+sixpence! Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence?
+Are we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths? Things
+are oftenest nothing in themselves; the thoughts we attach to them alone
+give them value. To rectify innocent mistakes, in order to recover some
+useless reality, is to be like those learned men who will see nothing in
+a plant but the chemical elements of which it is composed.
+
+On leaving the manufactory, the two sisters, who had taken possession
+of me with the freedom of artlessness, invited me to share the luncheon
+they had brought with them. I declined at first, but they insisted
+with so much good-nature, that I feared to pain them, and with some
+awkwardness gave way.
+
+We had only to look for a convenient spot. I led them up the hill,
+and we found a plot of grass enamelled with daisies, and shaded by two
+walnut-trees.
+
+Madeleine could not contain herself for joy. All her life she had
+dreamed of a dinner out on the grass! While helping her sister to take
+the provisions from the basket, she tells me of all her expeditions into
+the country that had been planned, and put off. Frances, on the other
+hand, was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she
+had often gone back to her nurse’s house. That which had the attraction
+of novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection. She
+told of the vintage harvests to which her parents had taken her; the
+rides on Mother Luret’s donkey, that they could not make go to the right
+without pulling him to the left; the cherry-gathering; and the sails on
+the lake in the innkeeper’s boat.
+
+These recollections have all the charm and freshness of childhood.
+Frances recalls to herself less what she has seen than what she has
+felt. While she is talking the cloth is laid, and we sit down under
+a tree. Before us winds the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses
+abutting upon the gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side
+spreads out the park of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees
+interspersed with meadows; above stretch the heavens like an immense
+ocean, in which the clouds are sailing! I look at this beautiful
+country, and I listen to these good old maids; I admire, and I am
+interested; and time passes gently on without my perceiving it.
+
+At last the sun sets, and we have to think of returning. While Madeleine
+and Frances clear away the dinner, I walk down to the manufactory to ask
+the hour. The merrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones
+resound from the band under the acacias. For a few moments I forget
+myself with looking about; but I have promised the two sisters to take
+them back to the Bellevue station; the train cannot wait, and I make
+haste to climb the path again which leads to the walnut-trees.
+
+Just before I reached them, I heard voices on the other side of the
+hedge. Madeleine and Frances were speaking to a poor girl whose clothes
+were burned, her hands blackened, and her face tied up with bloodstained
+bandages. I saw that she was one of the girls employed at the gunpowder
+mills, which are built further up on the common. An explosion had taken
+place a few days before; the girl’s mother and elder sister were killed;
+she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of
+support. She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of
+one who has always been accustomed to suffer. The two sisters were much
+affected; I saw them consulting with each other in a low tone: then
+Frances took thirty sous out of a little coarse silk purse, which was
+all they had left, and gave them to the poor girl. I hastened on to that
+side of the hedge; but, before I reached it, I met the two old sisters,
+who called out to me that they would not return by the railway, but on
+foot!
+
+I then understood that the money they had meant for the journey had just
+been given to the beggar! Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the
+poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was to pay for my own place,
+and return to Frances and Madeleine, and tell them I will walk with
+them.
+
+       ..........................
+
+I am just come back from taking them home; and have left them delighted
+with their day, the recollection of which will long make them happy.
+This morning I was pitying those whose lives are obscure and joyless;
+now, I understand that God has provided a compensation with every trial.
+The smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown.
+Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels
+no longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves
+to the other that first of earthly blessings: the being easily made
+happy. Oh, that I could persuade every one of this! that so the rich
+might not abuse their riches, and that the poor might have patience. If
+happiness is the rarest of blessings, it is because the reception of it
+is the rarest of virtues.
+
+Madeleine and Frances! ye poor old maids whose courage, resignation,
+and generous hearts are your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give
+themselves up to despair; for the unhappy who hate and envy; and for the
+unfeeling into whose enjoyments no pity enters.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. UNCLE MAURICE
+
+
+June 7th, Four O’clock A.M.
+
+I am not surprised at hearing, when I awake, the birds singing so
+joyfully outside my window; it is only by living, as they and I do, in
+a top story, that one comes to know how cheerful the mornings really are
+up among the roofs. It is there that the sun sends his first rays, and
+the breeze comes with the fragrance of the gardens and woods; there that
+a wandering butterfly sometimes ventures among the flowers of the attic,
+and that the songs of the industrious work-woman welcome the dawn of
+day. The lower stories are still deep in sleep, silence, and shadow,
+while here labor, light, and song already reign.
+
+What life is around me! See the swallow returning from her search for
+food, with her beak full of insects for her young ones; the sparrows
+shake the dew from their wings while they chase one another in the
+sunshine; and my neighbors throw open their windows, and welcome
+the morning with their fresh faces! Delightful hour of waking, when
+everything returns to feeling and to motion; when the first light of day
+strikes upon creation, and brings it to life again, as the magic wand
+struck the palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the wood! It is a moment of
+rest from every misery; the sufferings of the sick are allayed, and a
+breath of hope enters into the hearts of the despairing. But, alas! it
+is but a short respite! Everything will soon resume its wonted course:
+the great human machine, with its long strains, its deep gasps, its
+collisions, and its crashes, will be again put in motion.
+
+The tranquillity of this first morning hour reminds me of that of our
+first years of life. Then, too, the sun shines brightly, the air
+is fragrant, and the illusions of youth-those birds of our life’s
+morning-sing around us. Why do they fly away when we are older? Where
+do this sadness and this solitude, which gradually steal upon us,
+come from? The course seems to be the same with individuals and with
+communities: at starting, so readily made happy, so easily enchanted;
+and at the goal, the bitter disappointment or reality! The road, which
+began among hawthorns and primroses, ends speedily in deserts or in
+precipices! Why is there so much confidence at first, so much doubt at
+last? Has, then, the knowledge of life no other end but to make it
+unfit for happiness? Must we condemn ourselves to ignorance if we would
+preserve hope? Is the world and is the individual man intended, after
+all, to find rest only in an eternal childhood?
+
+How many times have I asked myself these questions! Solitude has the
+advantage or the danger of making us continually search more deeply into
+the same ideas. As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give
+the same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it
+to the subject which occupies another mind, or interests another’s
+feelings; and so an involuntary inclination makes us return forever to
+knock at the same doors!
+
+I interrupted my reflections to put my attic in order. I hate the
+look of disorder, because it shows either a contempt for details or an
+unaptness for spiritual life. To arrange the things among which we have
+to live, is to establish the relation of property and of use between
+them and us: it is to lay the foundation of those habits without which
+man tends to the savage state. What, in fact, is social organization but
+a series of habits, settled in accordance with the dispositions of our
+nature?
+
+I distrust both the intellect and the morality of those people to whom
+disorder is of no consequence--who can live at ease in an Augean stable.
+What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us. The
+mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spite of everything,
+still throw some light around. If our tastes did not reveal our
+character, they would be no longer tastes, but instincts.
+
+While I was arranging everything in my attic, my eyes rested on the
+little almanac hanging over my chimney-piece. I looked for the day of
+the month, and I saw these words written in large letters: “FETE DIEU!”
+
+It is to-day! In this great city, where there are no longer any public
+religious solemnities, there is nothing to remind us of it; but it is,
+in truth, the period so happily chosen by the primitive church. “The day
+kept in honor of the Creator,” says Chateaubriand, “happens at a time
+when the heaven and the earth declare His power, when the woods and
+fields are full of new life, and all are united by the happiest ties;
+there is not a single widowed plant in the fields.”
+
+What recollections these words have just awakened! I left off what I was
+about, I leaned my elbows on the windowsill, and, with my head between
+my two hands, I went back in thought to the little town where the first
+days of my childhood were passed.
+
+The ‘Fete Dieu’ was then one of the great events of my life! It was
+necessary to be diligent and obedient a long time beforehand, to deserve
+to share in it. I still recollect with what raptures of expectation I
+got up on the morning of the day. There was a holy joy in the air. The
+neighbors, up earlier than usual, hung cloths with flowers or figures,
+worked in tapestry, along the streets. I went from one to another,
+by turns admiring religious scenes of the Middle Ages, mythological
+compositions of the Renaissance, old battles in the style of Louis XIV,
+and the Arcadias of Madame de Pompadour. All this world of phantoms
+seemed to be coming forth from the dust of past ages, to assist--silent
+and motionless--at the holy ceremony. I looked, alternately in fear
+and wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised,
+those beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow,
+and those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the
+feet of the perpetually smiling shepherdess. Sometimes, when the wind
+blew behind these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures
+themselves moved, and I watched to see them detach themselves from the
+wall, and take their places in the procession! But these impressions
+were vague and transitory. The feeling that predominated over every
+other was that of an overflowing yet quiet joy. In the midst of all the
+floating draperies, the scattered flowers, the voices of the maidens,
+and the gladness which, like a perfume, exhaled from everything, you
+felt transported in spite of yourself. The joyful sounds of the festival
+were repeated in your heart, in a thousand melodious echoes. You were
+more indulgent, more holy, more loving! For God was not only manifesting
+himself without, but also within us.
+
+And then the altars for the occasion! the flowery arbors! the triumphal
+arches made of green boughs! What competition among the different
+parishes for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was
+to halt! It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful
+of his possessions!
+
+It was there I made my first sacrifice!
+
+The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the
+Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the
+whole! All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked. I alone possessed
+a flower worthy of such a place. It was on the rose-tree given me by my
+mother on my birthday. I had watched it for several months, and there
+was no other bud to blow on the tree. There it was, half open, in its
+mossy nest, the object of such long expectations, and of all a child’s
+pride! I hesitated for some moments. No one had asked me for it; I
+might easily avoid losing it. I should hear no reproaches, but one rose
+noiselessly within me. When every one else had given all they had, ought
+I alone to keep back my treasure? Ought I to grudge to God one of the
+gifts which, like all the rest, I had received from him? At this last
+thought I plucked the flower from the stem, and took it to put at the
+top of the Tabernacle. Ah! why does the recollection of this sacrifice,
+which was so hard and yet so sweet to me, now make me smile? Is it
+so certain that the value of a gift is in itself, rather than in the
+intention? If the cup of cold water in the gospel is remembered to the
+poor man, why should not the flower be remembered to the child? Let us
+not look down upon the child’s simple act of generosity; it is these
+which accustom the soul to self-denial and to sympathy. I cherished this
+moss-rose a long time as a sacred talisman; I had reason to cherish it
+always, as the record of the first victory won over myself.
+
+It is now many years since I witnessed the celebration of the ‘Fete
+Dieu’; but should I again feel in it the happy sensations of former
+days? I still remember how, when the procession had passed, I walked
+through the streets strewed with flowers and shaded with green boughs.
+I felt intoxicated by the lingering perfumes of the incense, mixed with
+the fragrance of syringas, jessamine, and roses, and I seemed no longer
+to touch the ground as I went along. I smiled at everything; the whole
+world was Paradise in my eyes, and it seemed to me that God was floating
+in the air!
+
+Moreover, this feeling was not the excitement of the moment: it might be
+more intense on certain days, but at the same time it continued through
+the ordinary course of my life. Many years thus passed for me in an
+expansion of heart, and a trustfulness which prevented sorrow, if not
+from coming, at least from staying with me. Sure of not being alone, I
+soon took heart again, like the child who recovers its courage, because
+it hears its mother’s voice close by. Why have I lost that confidence of
+my childhood? Shall I never feel again so deeply that God is here?
+
+How strange the association of our thoughts! A day of the month recalls
+my infancy, and see, all the recollections of my former years are
+growing up around me! Why was I so happy then? I consider well, and
+nothing is sensibly changed in my condition. I possess, as I did
+then, health and my daily bread; the only difference is, that I am
+now responsible for myself! As a child, I accepted life when it came;
+another cared and provided for me. So long as I fulfilled my present
+duties I was at peace within, and I left the future to the prudence of
+my father! My destiny was a ship, in the directing of which I had no
+share, and in which I sailed as a common passenger. There was the whole
+secret of childhood’s happy security. Since then worldly wisdom has
+deprived me of it. When my lot was intrusted to my own and sole keeping,
+I thought to make myself master of it by means of a long insight into
+the future. I have filled the present hour with anxieties, by occupying
+my thoughts with the future; I have put my judgment in the place of
+Providence, and the happy child is changed into the anxious man.
+
+A melancholy course, yet perhaps an important lesson. Who knows that,
+if I had trusted more to Him who rules the world, I should not have been
+spared all this anxiety? It may be that happiness is not possible here
+below, except on condition of living like a child, giving ourselves up
+to the duties of each day as it comes, and trusting in the goodness of
+our heavenly Father for all besides.
+
+This reminds me of my Uncle Maurice! Whenever I have need to strengthen
+myself in all that is good, I turn my thoughts to him; I see again the
+gentle expression of his half-smiling, half-mournful face; I hear his
+voice, always soft and soothing as a breath of summer! The remembrance
+of him protects my life, and gives it light. He, too, was a saint and
+martyr here below. Others have pointed out the path of heaven; he has
+taught us to see those of earth aright.
+
+But, except the angels, who are charged with noting down the sacrifices
+performed in secret, and the virtues which are never known, who has ever
+heard of my Uncle Maurice? Perhaps I alone remember his name, and still
+recall his history.
+
+Well! I will write it, not for others, but for myself! They say that,
+at the sight of the Apollo, the body erects itself and assumes a more
+dignified attitude: in the same way, the soul should feel itself raised
+and ennobled by the recollection of a good man’s life!
+
+A ray of the rising sun lights up the little table on which I write; the
+breeze brings me in the scent of the mignonette, and the swallows wheel
+about my window with joyful twitterings. The image of my Uncle Maurice
+will be in its proper place amid the songs, the sunshine, and the
+fragrance.
+
+Seven o’clock.--It is with men’s lives as with days: some dawn radiant
+with a thousand colors, others dark with gloomy clouds. That of my Uncle
+Maurice was one of the latter. He was so sickly, when he came into
+the world, that they thought he must die; but notwithstanding these
+anticipations, which might be called hopes, he continued to live,
+suffering and deformed.
+
+He was deprived of all joys as well as of all the attractions of
+childhood. He was oppressed because he was weak, and laughed at for his
+deformity. In vain the little hunchback opened his arms to the world:
+the world scoffed at him, and went its way.
+
+However, he still had his mother, and it was to her that the child
+directed all the feelings of a heart repelled by others. With her he
+found shelter, and was happy, till he reached the age when a man must
+take his place in life; and Maurice had to content himself with that
+which others had refused with contempt. His education would
+have qualified him for any course of life; and he became an
+octroi-clerk--[The octroi is the tax on provisions levied at the
+entrance of the town]--in one of the little toll-houses at the entrance
+of his native town.
+
+He was always shut up in this dwelling of a few feet square, with no
+relaxation from the office accounts but reading and his mother’s visits.
+On fine summer days she came to work at the door of his hut, under the
+shade of a clematis planted by Maurice. And, even when she was silent,
+her presence was a pleasant change for the hunchback; he heard the
+clinking of her long knitting-needles; he saw her mild and mournful
+profile, which reminded him of so many courageously-borne trials; he
+could every now and then rest his hand affectionately on that bowed
+neck, and exchange a smile with her!
+
+This comfort was soon to be taken from him. His old mother fell sick,
+and at the end of a few days he had to give up all hope. Maurice was
+overcome at the idea of a separation which would henceforth leave him
+alone on earth, and abandoned himself to boundless grief. He knelt by
+the bedside of the dying woman, he called her by the fondest names, he
+pressed her in his arms, as if he could so keep her in life. His mother
+tried to return his caresses, and to answer him; but her hands were
+cold, her voice was already gone. She could only press her lips against
+the forehead of her son, heave a sigh, and close her eyes forever!
+
+They tried to take Maurice away, but he resisted them and threw himself
+on that now motionless form.
+
+“Dead!” cried he; “dead! She who had never left me, she who was the only
+one in the world who loved me! You, my mother, dead! What then remains
+for me here below?”
+
+A stifled voice replied:
+
+“God!”
+
+Maurice, startled, raised himself! Was that a last sigh from the dead,
+or his own conscience, that had answered him? He did not seek to know,
+but he understood the answer, and accepted it.
+
+It was then that I first knew him. I often went to see him in his little
+toll-house. He joined in my childish games, told me his finest stories,
+and let me gather his flowers. Deprived as he was of all external
+attractiveness, he showed himself full of kindness to all who came to
+him, and, though he never would put himself forward, he had a welcome
+for everyone. Deserted, despised, he submitted to everything with a
+gentle patience; and while he was thus stretched on the cross of life,
+amid the insults of his executioners, he repeated with Christ, “Father,
+forgive them, for they know not what they do.”
+
+No other clerk showed so much honesty, zeal, and intelligence; but those
+who otherwise might have promoted him as his services deserved were
+repelled by his deformity. As he had no patrons, he found his claims
+were always disregarded. They preferred before him those who were better
+able to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor
+when letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live. Uncle
+Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by
+men, he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who
+cannot be deceived.
+
+He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor
+but not as forlorn as he, also lodged. Among these neighbors there was
+a single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came
+both wind and rain. She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing
+to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it. She was
+never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret.
+She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom
+seemed to envelop her like a shroud. Her dejection affected Maurice; he
+attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words. It
+was easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the
+little hunchback’s good-will; he perceived it, and said no more.
+
+But Toinette’s needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and
+presently work failed her! Maurice learned that the poor girl was in
+want of everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit.
+He immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what
+they supplied Toinette with.
+
+Things went on in this way for several months. The young dressmaker
+continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills
+she had contracted with the shopkeepers. When she came to an explanation
+with them, everything was discovered. Her first impulse was to run to
+Uncle Maurice, and thank him on her knees. Her habitual reserve had
+given way to a burst of deepest feeling. It seemed as if gratitude had
+melted all the ice of that numbed heart.
+
+Being now no longer embarrassed with a secret, the little hunchback
+could give greater efficacy to his good offices. Toinette became to him
+a sister, for whose wants he had a right to provide. It was the first
+time since the death of his mother that he had been able to share his
+life with another. The young woman received his attentions with feeling,
+but with reserve. All Maurice’s efforts were insufficient to dispel her
+gloom: she seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her
+sense of it with warmth; but there she stopped. Her heart was a closed
+book, which the little hunchback might bend over, but could not read. In
+truth he cared little to do so; he gave himself up to the happiness of
+being no longer alone, and took Toinette such as her long trials had
+made her; he loved her as she was, and wished for nothing else but still
+to enjoy her company.
+
+This thought insensibly took possession of his mind, to the exclusion
+of all besides. The poor girl was as forlorn as himself; she had become
+accustomed to the deformity of the hunchback, and she seemed to look on
+him with an affectionate sympathy! What more could he wish for? Until
+then, the hopes of making himself acceptable to a helpmate had been
+repelled by Maurice as a dream; but chance seemed willing to make it a
+reality. After much hesitation he took courage, and decided to speak to
+her.
+
+It was evening; the little hunchback, in much agitation, directed his
+steps toward the work-woman’s garret just as he was about to enter,
+he thought he heard a strange voice pronouncing the maiden’s name.
+He quickly pushed open the door, and perceived Toinette weeping, and
+leaning on the shoulder of a young man in the dress of a sailor.
+
+At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to
+him, crying out:
+
+“Ah! come in--come in! It is he that I thought was dead: it is Julien;
+it is my betrothed!”
+
+Maurice tottered, and drew back. A single word had told him all!
+
+It seemed to him as if the ground shook and his heart was about to
+break; but the same voice that he had heard by his mother’s deathbed
+again sounded in his ears, and he soon recovered himself. God was still
+his friend!
+
+He himself accompanied the newly-married pair on the road when they left
+the town, and, after wishing them all the happiness which was denied to
+him, he returned with resignation to the old house in the suburb.
+
+It was there that he ended his life, forsaken by men, but not as he said
+by the Father which is in heaven. He felt His presence everywhere; it
+was to him in the place of all else. When he died, it was with a smile,
+and like an exile setting out for his own country. He who had consoled
+him in poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and
+forsaken by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him.
+
+Eight o’clock.--All I have just written has pained me! Till now I have
+looked into life for instruction how to live. Is it then true that
+human maxims are not always sufficient? that beyond goodness, prudence,
+moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth,
+which alone can face great misfortunes? and that, if man has need of
+virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself?
+
+When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture
+expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy,
+and beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every
+storm in spite of the gods. But later in life, when the back is
+bowed, when happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow
+chill-then, in fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our
+arms, like the child overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who
+is everywhere.
+
+I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society
+and for the individual? In vain does human reason from hour to hour
+light some new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever
+darker! Is it not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther
+from God, the Sun of spirits?
+
+But what do these hermit’s reveries signify to the world? The inward
+turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give
+them time to question themselves. Have they time to know what they are,
+and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or
+the last price of stock? Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at
+the earth.
+
+But I--poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power
+nor riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter
+of my spirit--I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my
+childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of
+God with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME
+
+Sunday, July 1st
+
+Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans
+ended. To-day we enter on July.
+
+In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth),
+because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in
+March. When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name
+of Quintiles was preserved, as well as those that followed--Sexteles,
+September, October, November, December--although these designations did
+not accord with the newly arranged order of the months. At last, after
+a time the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was called
+Julius, whence we have July. Thus this name, placed in the calendar, is
+become the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaph
+on Time’s highway, engraved by the admiration of man.
+
+How many similar inscriptions are there! Seas, continents, mountains,
+stars, and monuments, have all in succession served the same purpose! We
+have turned the whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which
+the state of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great
+deeds. It seems that mankind feels a necessity for honoring itself in
+its elect ones, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing
+heroes from among its own race. The human family love to preserve
+the memory; of the parvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great
+ancestor, or of a benefactor.
+
+In fact, the talents granted to a single individual do not benefit
+himself alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, for
+everyone suffers or benefits by his actions. Genius is a lighthouse,
+meant to give light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock upon
+which this lighthouse is built.
+
+I love to dwell upon these thoughts; they explain to me in what consists
+our admiration for glory. When glory has benefited men, that admiration
+is gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride
+of race; as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples of
+humanity.
+
+Who knows whether we do not obey the same instinct in submitting to the
+hand of power? Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, or
+the consequences of a conquest, the multitude delight to surround their
+chiefs with privileges--whether it be that their vanity makes them thus
+to aggrandize one of their own creations, or whether they try to conceal
+the humiliation of subjection by exaggerating the importance of those
+who rule them. They wish to honor themselves through their master; they
+elevate him on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him
+with a halo of light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon
+themselves. It is still the fable of the dog who contents himself with
+the chain and collar, so that they are of gold.
+
+This servile vanity is not less natural or less common than the vanity
+of dominion. Whoever feels himself incapable of command, at least
+desires to obey a powerful chief. Serfs have been known to consider
+themselves dishonored when they became the property of a mere count
+after having been that of a prince, and Saint-Simon mentions a valet who
+would only wait upon marquises.
+
+July 7th, seven o’clock P. M.--I have just now been up the Boulevards;
+it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in the
+Rue Lepelletier. The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossing
+recognized the persons in some of these as we went by, and mentioned
+their names; they were those of celebrated or powerful men, the
+successful ones of the day.
+
+Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes,
+whose thin black coat was threadbare. He followed with envious looks
+these possessors of the privileges of power or of fame, and I read on
+his lips, which curled with a bitter smile, all that passed in his mind.
+
+“Look at them, the lucky fellows!” thought he; “all the pleasures
+of wealth, all the enjoyments of pride, are theirs. Their names are
+renowned, all their wishes fulfilled; they are the sovereigns of the
+world, either by their intellect or their power; and while I, poor and
+unknown, toil painfully along the road below, they wing their way over
+the mountain-tops gilded by the broad sunshine of prosperity.”
+
+I have come home in deep thought. Is it true that there are these
+inequalities, I do not say in the fortunes, but in the happiness of men?
+Do genius and authority really wear life as a crown, while the greater
+part of mankind receive it as a yoke? Is the difference of rank but a
+different use of men’s dispositions and talents, or a real inequality
+in their destinies? A solemn question, as it regards the verification of
+God’s impartiality.
+
+July 8th, noon.--I went this morning to call upon a friend from the
+same province as myself, who is the first usher-in-waiting to one of our
+ministers. I took him some letters from his family, left for him by a
+traveller just come from Brittany. He wished me to stay.
+
+“To-day,” said he, “the Minister gives no audience: he takes a day of
+rest with his family. His younger sisters are arrived; he will take them
+this morning to St. Cloud, and in the evening he has invited his friends
+to a private ball. I shall be dismissed directly for the rest of the
+day. We can dine together; read the news while you are waiting for me.”
+
+I sat down at a table covered with newspapers, all of which I looked
+over by turns. Most of them contained severe criticisms on the last
+political acts of the minister; some of them added suspicions as to the
+honor of the minister himself.
+
+Just as I had finished reading, a secretary came for them to take them
+to his master.
+
+He was then about to read these accusations, to suffer silently the
+abuse of all those tongues which were holding him up to indignation or
+to scorn! Like the Roman victor in his triumph, he had to endure the
+insults of him who followed his car, relating to the crowd his follies,
+his ignorance, or his vices.
+
+But, among the arrows shot at him from every side, would no one be found
+poisoned? Would not one reach some spot in his heart where the wound
+would be incurable? What is the worth of a life exposed to the attacks
+of envious hatred or furious conviction? The Christians yielded only the
+fragments of their flesh to the beasts of the amphitheatres; the man in
+power gives up his peace, his affections, his honor, to the cruel bites
+of the pen.
+
+While I was musing upon these dangers of greatness, the usher entered
+hastily. Important news had been received: the minister is just summoned
+to the council; he will not be able to take his sisters to St. Cloud.
+
+I saw, through the windows, the young ladies, who were waiting at the
+door, sorrowfully go upstairs again, while their brother went off to the
+council. The carriage, which should have gone filled with so much family
+happiness, is just out of sight, carrying only the cares of a statesman
+in it.
+
+The usher came back discontented and disappointed. The more or less of
+liberty which he is allowed to enjoy, is his barometer of the political
+atmosphere. If he gets leave, all goes well; if he is kept at his
+post, the country is in danger. His opinion on public affairs is but a
+calculation of his own interest. My friend is almost a statesman.
+
+I had some conversation with him, and he told me several curious
+particulars of public life.
+
+The new minister has old friends whose opinions he opposes, though he
+still retains his personal regard for them. Though separated from them
+by the colors he fights under, they remain united by old associations;
+but the exigencies of party forbid him to meet them. If their
+intercourse continued, it would awaken suspicion; people would imagine
+that some dishonorable bargain was going on; his friends would be held
+to be traitors desirous to sell themselves, and he the corrupt minister
+prepared to buy them. He has, therefore, been obliged to break off
+friendships of twenty years’ standing, and to sacrifice attachments
+which had become a second nature.
+
+Sometimes, however, the minister still gives way to his old feelings; he
+receives or visits his friends privately; he shuts himself up with
+them, and talks of the times when they could be open friends. By dint
+of precautions they have hitherto succeeded in concealing this blot of
+friendship against policy; but sooner or later the newspapers will be
+informed of it, and will denounce him to the country as an object of
+distrust.
+
+For whether hatred be honest or dishonest, it never shrinks from any
+accusation. Sometimes it even proceeds to crime. The usher assured me
+that several warnings had been given the minister which had made him
+fear the vengeance of an assassin, and that he no longer ventured out on
+foot.
+
+Then, from one thing to another, I learned what temptations came in to
+mislead or overcome his judgment; how he found himself fatally led
+into obliquities which he could not but deplore. Misled by passion,
+over-persuaded by entreaties, or compelled for reputation’s sake, he has
+many times held the balance with an unsteady hand. How sad the condition
+of him who is in authority! Not only are the miseries of power imposed
+upon him, but its vices also, which, not content with torturing, succeed
+in corrupting him.
+
+We prolonged our conversation till it was interrupted by the minister’s
+return. He threw himself out of the carriage with a handful of papers,
+and with an anxious manner went into his own room. An instant afterward
+his bell was heard; his secretary was called to send off notices to all
+those invited for the evening; the ball would not take place; they
+spoke mysteriously of bad news transmitted by the telegraph, and in such
+circumstances an entertainment would seem to insult the public sorrow.
+
+I took leave of my friend, and here I am at home. What I have just seen
+is an answer to my doubts the other day. Now I know with what pangs men
+pay for their dignities; now I understand
+
+     That Fortune sells what we believe she gives.
+
+This explains to me the reason why Charles V. aspired to the repose of
+the cloister.
+
+And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power.
+What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated
+from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth? of that
+path of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their
+responsibility? of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses
+every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty?
+
+The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies.
+If men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep
+him separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a
+continual worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him
+the superhuman part they have granted him. Our masters cannot remain
+absolute, except on condition of being treated as idols.
+
+But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they
+must lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to
+themselves. Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to
+regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; “so that,”
+ says Voltaire, “by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of
+Spain have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment.” It
+was by this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such
+an excess of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of
+Uzeda, who alone had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber,
+happened to be absent.
+
+When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she
+was about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette
+forbade them to touch the queen. Two young officers endangered their
+lives for her by stopping the horse. The prayers and tears of her whom
+they had just snatched from death were necessary to obtain pardon for
+their crime. Every one knows the anecdote related by Madame Campan of
+Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI. One day, being at her toilet, when
+the chemise was about to be presented to her by one of the assistants,
+a lady of very ancient family entered and claimed the honor, as she had
+the right by etiquette; but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her
+duty, a lady of higher rank appeared, and in her turn took the garment
+she was about to offer to the queen; when a third lady of still higher
+title came in her turn, and was followed by a fourth, who was no other
+than the king’s sister. The chemise was in this manner passed from hand
+to hand, with ceremonies, courtesies, and compliments, before it came
+to the queen, who, half naked and quite ashamed, was shivering with cold
+for the great honor of etiquette.
+
+12th, seven o’clock, P.M.--On coming home this evening, I saw, standing
+at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features
+reminded me of my father. There was the same beautiful smile, the same
+deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the
+same careless attitude.
+
+I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to
+myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given
+me, and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn.
+
+When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by
+an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction.
+
+Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared
+everything that had the appearance of a lesson. He used to say that
+virtue could make herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils:
+therefore he was not desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself
+with sowing the seeds of it, certain that experience would make them
+grow.
+
+How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and,
+when it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and
+come into ear! It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and
+we do not know its value till we find ourselves in need of it.
+
+Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings,
+there is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time
+is come to derive its lesson from it.
+
+My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those
+trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all
+creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led
+a life of poverty and labor. Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns
+shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work
+of a trade of which his master reaped all the profits. In truth, this
+latter had a peculiar talent for making the most of the labor of other
+people. Though unfit himself for the execution of any kind of work, no
+one knew better how to sell it. His words were a net, in which people
+found themselves taken before they were aware. And since he was devoted
+to himself alone, and looked on the producer as his enemy, and the
+buyer as prey, he used them both with that obstinate perseverance which
+avarice teaches.
+
+My father was a slave all the week, and could call himself his own only
+on Sunday. The master naturalist, who used to spend the day at the house
+of an old female relative, then gave him his liberty on condition that
+he dined out, and at his own expense. But my father used secretly to
+take with him a crust of bread, which he hid in his botanizing-box, and,
+leaving Paris as soon as it was day, he would wander far into the valley
+of Montmorency, the wood of Meudon, or among the windings of the
+Marne. Excited by the fresh air, the penetrating perfume of the growing
+vegetation, or the fragrance of the honeysuckles, he would walk on until
+hunger or fatigue made itself felt. Then he would sit under a hedge,
+or by the side of a stream, and would make a rustic feast, by turns
+on watercresses, wood strawberries, and blackberries picked from the
+hedges; he would gather a few plants, read a few pages of Florian,
+then in greatest vogue, of Gessner, who was just translated, or of Jean
+Jacques, of whom he possessed three old volumes. The day was thus passed
+alternately in activity and rest, in pursuit and meditation, until the
+declining sun warned him to take again the road to Paris, where he would
+arrive, his feet torn and dusty, but his mind invigorated for a whole
+week.
+
+One day, as he was going toward the wood of Viroflay, he met, close to
+it, a stranger who was occupied in botanizing and in sorting the plants
+he had just gathered. He was an elderly man with an honest face; but
+his eyes, which were rather deep-set under his eyebrows, had a somewhat
+uneasy and timid expression. He was dressed in a brown cloth coat,
+a gray waistcoat, black breeches, and worsted stockings, and held an
+ivory-headed cane under his arm. His appearance was that of a small
+retired tradesman who was living on his means, and rather below the
+golden mean of Horace.
+
+My father, who had great respect for age, civilly raised his hat to
+him as he passed. In doing so, a plant he held fell from his hand; the
+stranger stooped to take it up, and recognized it.
+
+“It is a Deutaria heptaphyllos,” said he; “I have not yet seen any of
+them in these woods; did you find it near here, sir?”
+
+My father replied that it was to be found in abundance on the top of the
+hill, toward Sevres, as well as the great Laserpitium.
+
+“That, too!” repeated the old man more briskly. “Ah! I shall go and look
+for them; I have gathered them formerly on the hillside of Robaila.”
+
+My father proposed to take him. The stranger accepted his proposal with
+thanks, and hastened to collect together the plants he had gathered; but
+all of a sudden he appeared seized with a scruple. He observed to his
+companion that the road he was going was halfway up the hill, and led
+in the direction of the castle of the Dames Royales at Bellevue; that by
+going to the top he would consequently turn out of his road, and that it
+was not right he should take this trouble for a stranger.
+
+My father insisted upon it with his habitual good-nature; but, the more
+eagerness he showed, the more obstinately the old man refused; it
+even seemed to my father that his good intention at last excited his
+suspicion. He therefore contented himself with pointing out the road to
+the stranger, whom he saluted, and he soon lost sight of him.
+
+Many hours passed by, and he thought no more of the meeting. He had
+reached the copses of Chaville, where, stretched on the ground in a
+mossy glade, he read once more the last volume of Emile. The delight of
+reading it had so completely absorbed him that he had ceased to see or
+hear anything around him. With his cheeks flushed and his eyes moist, he
+repeated aloud a passage which had particularly affected him.
+
+An exclamation uttered close by him awoke him from his ecstasy; he
+raised his head, and perceived the tradesman-looking person he had met
+before on the crossroad at Viroflay.
+
+He was loaded with plants, the collection of which seemed to have put
+him into high good-humor.
+
+“A thousand thanks, sir,” said he to my father. “I have found all that
+you told me of, and I am indebted to you for a charming walk.”
+
+My father respectfully rose, and made a civil reply. The stranger had
+grown quite familiar, and even asked if his young “brother botanist” did
+not think of returning to Paris. My father replied in the affirmative,
+and opened his tin box to put his book back in it.
+
+The stranger asked him with a smile if he might without impertinence ask
+the name of it. My father answered that it was Rousseau’s Emile.
+
+The stranger immediately became grave.
+
+They walked for some time side by side, my father expressing, with the
+warmth of a heart still throbbing with emotion, all that this work
+had made him feel; his companion remaining cold and silent. The former
+extolled the glory of the great Genevese writer, whose genius had made
+him a citizen of the world; he expatiated on this privilege of great
+thinkers, who reign in spite of time and space, and gather together a
+people of willing subjects out of all nations; but the stranger suddenly
+interrupted him:
+
+“And how do you know,” said he, mildly, “whether Jean Jacques would not
+exchange the reputation which you seem to envy for the life of one of
+the wood-cutters whose chimneys’ smoke we see? What has fame brought him
+except persecution? The unknown friends whom his books may have made
+for him content themselves with blessing him in their hearts, while the
+declared enemies that they have drawn upon him pursue him with violence
+and calumny! His pride has been flattered by success: how many times has
+it been wounded by satire? And be assured that human pride is like the
+Sybarite who was prevented from sleeping by a crease in a roseleaf. The
+activity of a vigorous mind, by which the world profits, almost always
+turns against him who possesses it. He expects more from it as he grows
+older; the ideal he pursues continually disgusts him with the actual;
+he is like a man who, with a too-refined sight, discerns spots and
+blemishes in the most beautiful face. I will not speak of stronger
+temptations and of deeper downfalls. Genius, you have said, is a
+kingdom; but what virtuous man is not afraid of being a king? He who
+feels only his great powers, is--with the weaknesses and passions of our
+nature--preparing for great failures. Believe me, sir, the unhappy man
+who wrote this book is no object of admiration or of envy; but, if you
+have a feeling heart, pity him!”
+
+My father, astonished at the excitement with which his companion
+pronounced these last words, did not know what to answer.
+
+Just then they reached the paved road which led from Meudon Castle to
+that of Versailles; a carriage was passing.
+
+The ladies who were in it perceived the old man, uttered an exclamation
+of surprise, and leaning out of the window repeated:
+
+“There is Jean Jacques--there is Rousseau!”
+
+Then the carriage disappeared in the distance.
+
+My father remained motionless, confounded, and amazed, his eyes wide
+open, and his hands clasped.
+
+Rousseau, who had shuddered on hearing his name spoken, turned toward
+him:
+
+“You see,” said he, with the bitter misanthropy which his later
+misfortunes had produced in him, “Jean Jacques cannot even hide himself:
+he is an object of curiosity to some, of malignity to others, and to all
+he is a public thing, at which they point the finger. It would signify
+less if he had only to submit to the impertinence of the idle; but, as
+soon as a man has had the misfortune to make himself a name, he becomes
+public property. Every one rakes into his life, relates his most trivial
+actions, and insults his feelings; he becomes like those walls, which
+every passer-by may deface with some abusive writing. Perhaps you
+will say that I have myself encouraged this curiosity by publishing my
+Confessions. But the world forced me to it. They looked into my house
+through the blinds, and they slandered me; I have opened the doors and
+windows, so that they should at least know me such as I am. Adieu, sir.
+Whenever you wish to know the worth of fame, remember that you have seen
+Rousseau.”
+
+Nine o’clock.--Ah! now I understand my father’s story! It contains the
+answer to one of the questions I asked myself a week ago. Yes, I now
+feel that fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought; and that,
+when they dazzle the soul, both are oftenest, as Madame de Stael says,
+but ‘un deuil eclatant de bonheur!
+
+          ‘Tis better to be lowly born,
+          And range with humble livers in content,
+          Than to be perk’d up in a glistering grief,
+          And wear a golden sorrow.
+
+          [Henry VIII., Act II., Scene 3.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. MISANTHROPY AND REPENTANCE
+
+August 3d, Nine O’clock P.M.
+
+There are days when everything appears gloomy to us; the world, like the
+sky, is covered by a dark fog. Nothing seems in its place; we see only
+misery, improvidence, and cruelty; the world seems without God, and
+given up to all the evils of chance.
+
+Yesterday I was in this unhappy humor. After a long walk in the
+faubourgs, I returned home, sad and dispirited.
+
+Everything I had seen seemed to accuse the civilization of which we are
+so proud! I had wandered into a little by-street, with which I was not
+acquainted, and I found myself suddenly in the middle of those dreadful
+abodes where the poor are born, to languish and die. I looked at those
+decaying walls, which time has covered with a foul leprosy; those
+windows, from which dirty rags hang out to dry; those fetid gutters,
+which coil along the fronts of the houses like venomous reptiles! I felt
+oppressed with grief, and hastened on.
+
+A little farther on I was stopped by the hearse of a hospital; a dead
+man, nailed down in his deal coffin, was going to his last abode,
+without funeral pomp or ceremony, and without followers. There was not
+here even that last friend of the outcast--the dog, which a painter has
+introduced as the sole attendant at the pauper’s burial! He whom they
+were preparing to commit to the earth was going to the tomb, as he had
+lived, alone; doubtless no one would be aware of his end. In this battle
+of society, what signifies a soldier the less?
+
+But what, then, is this human society, if one of its members can thus
+disappear like a leaf carried away by the wind?
+
+The hospital was near a barrack, at the entrance of which old men,
+women, and children were quarrelling for the remains of the coarse
+bread which the soldiers had given them in charity! Thus, beings like
+ourselves daily wait in destitution on our compassion till we give
+them leave to live! Whole troops of outcasts, in addition to the trials
+imposed on all God’s children, have to endure the pangs of cold, hunger,
+and humiliation. Unhappy human commonwealth! Where man is in a worse
+condition than the bee in its hive, or the ant in its subterranean city!
+
+Ah! what then avails our reason? What is the use of so many high
+faculties, if we are neither the wiser nor the happier for them? Which
+of us would not exchange his life of labor and trouble with that of the
+birds of the air, to whom the whole world is a life of joy?
+
+How well I understand the complaint of Mao, in the popular tales of the
+‘Foyer Breton’ who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks
+at the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees:
+
+“Alas! those birds are happier than Christians; they have no need of
+inns, or butchers, or bakers, or gardeners. God’s heaven belongs to
+them, and earth spreads a continual feast before them! The tiny flies
+are their game, ripe grass their cornfields, and hips and haws their
+store of fruit. They have the right of taking everywhere, without paying
+or asking leave: thus comes it that the little birds are happy, and sing
+all the livelong day!”
+
+But the life of man in a natural state is like that of the birds; he
+equally enjoys nature. “The earth spreads a continual feast before him.”
+ What, then, has he gained by that selfish and imperfect association
+which forms a nation? Would it not be better for every one to turn again
+to the fertile bosom of nature, and live there upon her bounty in peace
+and liberty?
+
+August 20th, four o’clock A.M.--The dawn casts a red glow on my
+bed-curtains; the breeze brings in the fragrance of the gardens below.
+Here I am again leaning on my elbows by the windows, inhaling the
+freshness and gladness of this first wakening of the day.
+
+My eye always passes over the roofs filled with flowers, warbling, and
+sunlight, with the same pleasure; but to-day it stops at the end of a
+buttress which separates our house from the next.
+
+The storms have stripped the top of its plaster covering, and dust
+carried by the wind has collected in the crevices, and, being fixed
+there by the rain, has formed a sort of aerial terrace, where some green
+grass has sprung up. Among it rises a stalk of wheat, which to-day is
+surmounted by a sickly ear that droops its yellow head.
+
+This poor stray crop on the roofs, the harvest of which will fall to the
+neighboring sparrows, has carried my thoughts to the rich crops which
+are now falling beneath the sickle; it has recalled to me the
+beautiful walks I took as a child through my native province, when the
+threshing-floors at the farmhouses resounded from every part with the
+sound of a flail, and when the carts, loaded with golden sheaves, came
+in by all the roads. I still remember the songs of the maidens, the
+cheerfulness of the old men, the open-hearted merriment of the laborers.
+There was, at that time, something in their looks both of pride and
+feeling. The latter came from thankfulness to God, the former from the
+sight of the harvest, the reward of their labor. They felt indistinctly
+the grandeur and the holiness of their part in the general work of the
+world; they looked with pride upon their mountains of corn-sheaves, and
+they seemed to say, Next to God, it is we who feed the world!
+
+What a wonderful order there is in all human labor!
+
+While the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for every one his
+daily bread, the town artizan, far away, weaves the stuff in which he
+is to be clothed; the miner seeks underground the iron for his plow; the
+soldier defends him against the invader; the judge takes care that
+the law protects his fields; the tax-comptroller adjusts his private
+interests with those of the public; the merchant occupies himself in
+exchanging his products with those of distant countries; the men of
+science and of art add every day a few horses to this ideal team, which
+draws along the material world, as steam impels the gigantic trains of
+our iron roads! Thus all unite together, all help one another; the
+toil of each one benefits himself and all the world; the work has been
+apportioned among the different members of the whole of society by a
+tacit agreement. If, in this apportionment, errors are committed,
+if certain individuals have not been employed according to their
+capacities, those defects of detail diminish in the sublime conception
+of the whole. The poorest man included in this association has his
+place, his work, his reason for being there; each is something in the
+whole.
+
+There is nothing like this for man in the state of nature. As he depends
+only upon himself, it is necessary that he be sufficient for everything.
+All creation is his property; but he finds in it as many hindrances as
+helps. He must surmount these obstacles with the single strength that
+God has given him; he cannot reckon on any other aid than chance and
+opportunity. No one reaps, manufactures, fights, or thinks for him; he
+is nothing to any one. He is a unit multiplied by the cipher of his own
+single powers; while the civilized man is a unit multiplied by the whole
+of society.
+
+But, notwithstanding this, the other day, disgusted by the sight of some
+vices in detail, I cursed the latter, and almost envied the life of the
+savage.
+
+One of the infirmities of our nature is always to mistake feeling for
+evidence, and to judge of the season by a cloud or a ray of sunshine.
+
+Was the misery, the sight of which made me regret a savage life, really
+the effect of civilization? Must we accuse society of having created
+these evils, or acknowledge, on the contrary, that it has alleviated
+them? Could the women and children, who were receiving the coarse bread
+from the soldier, hope in the desert for more help or pity? That dead
+man, whose forsaken state I deplored, had he not found, by the cares of
+a hospital, a coffin and the humble grave where he was about to rest?
+Alone, and far from men, he would have died like the wild beast in his
+den, and would now be serving as food for vultures! These benefits of
+human society are shared, then, by the most destitute. Whoever eats the
+bread that another has reaped and kneaded, is under an obligation to his
+brother, and cannot say he owes him nothing in return. The poorest of us
+has received from society much more than his own single strength would
+have permitted him to wrest from nature.
+
+But cannot society give us more? Who doubts it? Errors have been
+committed in this distribution of tasks and workers. Time will diminish
+the number of them; with new lights a better division will arise; the
+elements of society go on toward perfection, like everything else. The
+difficulty is to know how to adapt ourselves to the slow step of time,
+whose progress can never be forced on without danger.
+
+August 14th, six o’clock A.M.--My garret window rises upon the roof like
+a massive watch-tower. The corners are covered by large sheets of lead,
+which run into the tiles; the successive action of cold and heat has
+made them rise, and so a crevice has been formed in an angle on the
+right side. There a sparrow has built her nest.
+
+I have followed the progress of this aerial habitation from the first
+day. I have seen the bird successively bring the straw, moss, and wool
+designed for the construction of her abode; and I have admired the
+persevering skill she expended in this difficult work. At first, my new
+neighbor spent her days in fluttering over the poplar in the garden, and
+in chirping along the gutters; a fine lady’s life seemed the only one to
+suit her. Then all of a sudden, the necessity of preparing a shelter
+for her brood transformed our idler into a worker; she no longer gave
+herself either rest or relaxation. I saw her always either flying,
+fetching, or carrying; neither rain nor sun stopped her. A striking
+example of the power of necessity! We are indebted to it not only for
+most of our talents, but for many of our virtues!
+
+Is it not necessity that has given the people of less favored climates
+that constant activity which has placed them so quickly at the head of
+nations? As they are deprived of most of the gifts of nature, they
+have supplied them by their industry; necessity has sharpened their
+understanding, endurance awakened their foresight. While elsewhere man,
+warmed by an ever brilliant sun, and loaded with the bounties of the
+earth, was remaining poor, ignorant, and naked, in the midst of gifts he
+did not attempt to explore, here he was forced by necessity to wrest his
+food from the ground, to build habitations to defend himself from the
+intemperance of the weather, and to warm his body by clothing himself
+with the wool of animals. Work makes him both more intelligent and more
+robust: disciplined by it, he seems to mount higher on the ladder of
+creation, while those more favored by nature remain on the step nearest
+to the brutes.
+
+I made these reflections while looking at the bird, whose instinct
+seemed to have become more acute since she had been occupied in work.
+At last the nest was finished; she set up her household there, and I
+followed her through all the phases of her new existence.
+
+When she had sat on the eggs, and the young ones were hatched, she fed
+them with the most attentive care. The corner of my window had become
+a stage of moral action, which fathers and mothers might come to take
+lessons from. The little ones soon became large, and this morning I have
+seen them take their first flight. One of them, weaker than the others,
+was not able to clear the edge of the roof, and fell into the gutter.
+I caught him with some difficulty, and placed him again on the tile in
+front of his house, but the mother has not noticed him. Once freed from
+the cares of a family, she has resumed her wandering life among the
+trees and along the roofs. In vain I have kept away from my window, to
+take from her every excuse for fear; in vain the feeble little bird
+has called to her with plaintive cries; his bad mother has passed by,
+singing and fluttering with a thousand airs and graces. Once only the
+father came near; he looked at his offspring with contempt, and then
+disappeared, never to return!
+
+I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how
+to peck it with his bill. I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the
+forsaken nest. What will become of him there, if his mother does not
+come back!
+
+August 15th, six o’clock.--This morning, on opening my window, I found
+the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he had
+been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother. I tried in vain to
+warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his
+eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down! I placed him on the
+roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window. The struggle of life
+against death has always something gloomy in it: it is a warning to us.
+
+Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old
+neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts.
+
+It was my portress. Excellent woman! She wished me to read a letter from
+her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her.
+
+I kept it, to copy it in my journal. Here it is:
+
+   “DEAR MOTHER: This is to tell you that I have been very well ever
+   since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with
+   the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a
+   better craft anywhere.
+
+   “A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I
+   saw the captain sinking. I went after him, as was my duty, and,
+   after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which
+   pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had
+   recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would
+   have done to an officer.
+
+   “I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me.
+   But it isn’t all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded
+   them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I
+   am promoted to be a sailor of the first class! Directly I knew it,
+   I cried out, ‘My mother shall have coffee twice a day!’ And really,
+   dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have
+   a larger allowance to send you.
+
+   “I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do
+   me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want
+   for nothing.
+
+   “Your son, from the bottom of my heart,
+
+                         “JACQUES.”
+
+This is the answer that the portress dictated to me:
+
+   “MY GOOD JACQUOT: It makes me very happy to see that your heart is
+   still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have
+   brought you up. I need not tell you to take care of your life,
+   because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you,
+   dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not
+   bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty.
+
+   “Do not fear for my health, good Jacques; I was never better! I do
+   not grow old at all, for fear of making you unhappy. I want
+   nothing, and I live like a lady. I even had some money over this
+   year, and as my drawers shut very badly, I put it into the savings’
+   bank, where I have opened an account in your name. So, when you
+   come back, you will find yourself with an income. I have also
+   furnished your chest with new linen, and I have knitted you three
+   new sea-jackets.
+
+   “All your friends are well. Your cousin is just dead, leaving his
+   widow in difficulties. I gave her your thirty francs’ remittance
+   and said that you had sent it her; and the poor woman remembers you
+   day and night in her prayers. So, you see, I have put that money in
+   another sort of savings’ bank; but there it is our hearts that get
+   the interest.
+
+   “Good-bye, dear Jacquot. Write to me often, and always remember the
+   good God, and your old mother,
+
+                    “PHROSINE MILLOT.”
+
+Good son, and worthy mother! how such examples bring us back to a love
+for the human race! In a fit of fanciful misanthropy, we may envy the
+fate of the savage, and prefer that of the bird to such as he; but
+impartial observation soon does justice to such paradoxes. We find, on
+examination, that in the mixed good and evil of human nature, the good
+so far abounds that we are not in the habit of noticing it, while the
+evil strikes us precisely on account of its being the exception. If
+nothing is perfect, nothing is so bad as to be without its compensation
+or its remedy. What spiritual riches are there in the midst of the evils
+of society! how much does the moral world redeem the material!
+
+That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his
+power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice. The mother
+who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to
+them the necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the
+preservation of her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a
+rational choice. When she had accomplished the mission appointed her
+by Providence, she cast off the duty as we get rid of a burden, and
+she returned again to her selfish liberty. The other mother, on the
+contrary, will go on with her task as long as God shall leave her here
+below: the life of her son will still remain, so to speak, joined to her
+own; and when she disappears from the earth, she will leave there that
+part of herself.
+
+Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from
+all the rest of creation. Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial
+immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone
+perpetuates himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT
+
+September 15th, Eight O’clock
+
+This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in,
+and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For the
+nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in
+her little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but
+Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm,
+and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of our
+acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my
+patronage has become her property.
+
+She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is
+a joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs
+again immediately to send him to me.
+
+At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice:
+but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial
+as usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?
+
+Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that
+she might think she had received her full share already. Were I to live
+a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her
+known to me, and which obtained for her my respect.
+
+It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed
+her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by
+its forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have always
+instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them,
+but it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother
+in poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope
+to those whose very existence is in peril--the only means by which some
+orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to
+enrich himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more than
+an exchange--it is a good action.
+
+Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that
+fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among
+the poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to
+become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a
+worshipper of Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was always
+reduced to two or three working days, were completely dedicated by him
+to the worship of this god of the Barriers,--[The cheap wine shops are
+outside the Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]--and
+Genevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the
+household.
+
+One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I
+heard a sound of quarrelling in the back shop. There were the voices of
+several women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by
+sobs. On looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a child
+in her arms, and kissing it, while a country nurse seemed to be claiming
+her wages from her. The poor woman, who without doubt had exhausted
+every explanation and every excuse, was crying in silence, and one of
+her neighbors was trying in vain to appease the countrywoman. Excited by
+that love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too well
+excuse, and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nurse
+was launching forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse. In spite
+of myself, I listened to the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and not
+thinking of going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door.
+
+The joiner had just come from the Barriers, where he had passed part of
+the day at a public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and untied at the
+throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in his hand he held
+his cap, which he had just picked up out of the mud; his hair was in
+disorder, his eye fixed, and the pallor of drunkenness in his face. He
+came reeling in, looked wildly around him, and called Genevieve.
+
+She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the
+sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself,
+she pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with tears.
+
+The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her.
+
+“Come! come!” cried the former in a rage, “do you intend to pay me,
+after all?”
+
+“Ask the master for the money,” ironically answered the woman from
+the next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the
+counter.
+
+The countrywoman looked at him.
+
+“Ah! he is the father,” returned she. “Well, what idle beggars! not to
+have a penny to pay honest people; and get tipsy with wine in that way.”
+
+The drunkard raised his head.
+
+“What! what!” stammered he; “who is it that talks of wine? I’ve had
+nothing but brandy! But I am going back again to get some wine! Wife,
+give me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the ‘Pere
+la Tuille’.”
+
+Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till,
+and began to rummage in it.
+
+“You see where the money of the house goes!” observed the neighbor to
+the countrywoman; “how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes
+all?”
+
+“Is that my fault?” replied the nurse, angrily. “They owe to me, and
+somehow or other they must pay me!”
+
+And letting loose her tongue, as these women out of the country do, she
+began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child, and
+all the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all
+she had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her
+rights, and to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared
+that her violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop,
+and put it into its cradle.
+
+Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to
+escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but
+she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarrelling,
+with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The joiner, who was
+still rummaging in the till, was startled, and raised his head.
+
+At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms
+the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran
+toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband, cried:
+
+“Michael, defend your son!”
+
+The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a
+start.
+
+“My son!” stammered he; “what son?”
+
+His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over
+his features.
+
+“Robert,” resumed he; “it is Robert!”
+
+He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but
+he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage.
+
+“My money, or I shall take the child away!” cried she. “It is I who have
+fed and brought it up: if you don’t pay me for what has made it live, it
+ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go until I
+have my due, or the baby.”
+
+“And what would you do with him?” murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert
+against her bosom.
+
+“Take it to the Foundling!” replied the countrywoman, harshly; “the
+hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of
+its little ones.”
+
+At the word “Foundling,” Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror. With
+her arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her
+two hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained
+with her back against it, like a lioness defending her young. The
+neighbor and I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could
+interfere. As for Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible
+effort to comprehend it all. When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the
+child, it lit up with a gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us,
+he again became stupid and hesitating.
+
+At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, “Wait!”
+
+And going to a tub filled with water, he plunged his face into it
+several times.
+
+Every eye was turned upon him; the countrywoman herself seemed
+astonished. At length he raised his dripping head. This ablution had
+partly dispelled his drunkenness; he looked at us for a moment, then he
+turned to Genevieve, and his face brightened up.
+
+“Robert!” cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms.
+“Ah! give him me, wife; I must look at him.”
+
+The mother seemed to give up his son to him with reluctance, and stayed
+before him with her arms extended, as if she feared the child would
+have a fall. The nurse began again in her turn to speak, and renewed
+her claims, this time threatening to appeal to law. At first Michael
+listened to her attentively, and when he comprehended her meaning, he
+gave the child back to its mother.
+
+“How much do we owe you?” asked he.
+
+The countrywoman began to reckon up the different expenses, which
+amounted to nearly thirty francs. The joiner felt to the bottom of
+his pockets, but could find nothing. His forehead became contracted by
+frowns; low curses began to escape him. All of a sudden he rummaged in
+his breast, drew forth a large watch, and holding it up above his head:
+
+“Here it is--here’s your money!” cried he with a joyful laugh; “a watch,
+a good one! I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry day; but it
+is not I who will drink it, but the young one. Ah! ah! ah! go and sell
+it for me, neighbor, and if that is not enough, I have my earrings.
+Eh! Genevieve, take them off for me; the earrings will square all! They
+shall not say you have been disgraced on account of the child--no, not
+even if I must pledge a bit of my flesh! My watch, my earrings, and my
+ring--get rid of all of them for me at the goldsmith’s; pay the woman,
+and let the little fool go to sleep. Give him me, Genevieve; I will put
+him to bed.”
+
+And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him with a
+firm step to his cradle.
+
+It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from
+this day. He cut all his old drinking acquaintances. He went early every
+morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the
+day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not leave them at all,
+and he hired a place near the fruit-shop, and worked in it on his own
+account.
+
+They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been for
+the expenses which the child required. Everything was given up to his
+education. He had gone through the regular school training, had studied
+mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter’s trade, and had only begun to
+work a few months ago. Till now, they had been exhausting every resource
+which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his
+business; and, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the
+seed had brought forth fruit, and the days of harvest were close by.
+
+While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had
+come in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted.
+
+During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also
+scrutinizing the joiner.
+
+The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply
+marked his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stoop, his
+legs are shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in
+his whole being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and
+despondency. He answers my questions by monosyllables, and like a man
+who wishes to avoid conversation. Whence comes this dejection, when one
+would think he had all he could wish for? I should like to know!
+
+Ten o’clock.--Michael is just gone downstairs to look for a tool he has
+forgotten. I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of
+his and Genevieve’s sorrow. Their son Robert is the cause of it!
+
+Not that he has turned out ill after all their care--not that he is
+idle or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any
+more. The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad
+their lives once more; his mother counted the days, his father prepared
+everything to receive their dear associate in their toils; and at the
+moment when they were thus about to be repaid for all their sacrifices,
+Robert had suddenly informed them that he had just engaged himself to a
+contractor at Versailles.
+
+Every remonstrance and every prayer were useless; he brought forward
+the necessity of initiating himself into all the details of an important
+contract, the facilities he should have in his new position of improving
+himself in his trade, and the hopes he had of turning his knowledge
+to advantage. At, last, when his mother, having come to the end of her
+arguments, began to cry, he hastily kissed her, and went away that he
+might avoid any further remonstrances.
+
+He had been absent a year, and there was nothing to give them hopes of
+his return. His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only
+stayed a few moments with them.
+
+“I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded,” Michael said to
+me just now. “I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has
+given me an ambitious and avaricious one! I had always said to myself
+that when once he was grown up we should have him always with us,
+to recall our youth and to enliven our hearts. His mother was always
+thinking of getting him married, and having children again to care for.
+You know women always will busy themselves about others. As for me, I
+thought of him working near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he
+has learnt music, and is one of the best singers at the Orpheon.
+
+“A dream, sir, truly! Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight,
+and remembers neither father nor mother. Yesterday, for instance, was
+the day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us. No
+Robert to-day, either! He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain
+to arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after
+the customers and the joiner’s work. Ah! if I could have guessed how it
+would have turned out! Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money,
+for nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son! Was it
+for this I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with
+my friends, to become an example to the neighborhood? The jovial good
+fellow has made a goose of himself. Oh! if I had to begin again! No, no!
+you see women and children are our bane. They soften our hearts; they
+lead us a life of hope and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives in
+fostering the growth of a grain of corn which is to be everything to us
+in our old age, and when the harvest-time comes--good-night, the ear is
+empty!”
+
+While he was speaking, Michael’s voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce,
+and his lips quivered. I wished to answer him, but I could only think of
+commonplace consolations, and I remained silent. The joiner pretended he
+needed a tool, and left me.
+
+Poor father! Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has
+failed to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her! Who has not felt
+this weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once,
+the mournful exclamation of Brutus?
+
+But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true
+and real? No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain! It does not
+always give the happiness we had hoped for, but it brings some other. In
+the world everything is ruled by order, and has its proper and necessary
+consequences, and virtue cannot be the sole exception to the general
+law. If it had been prejudicial to those who practised it, experience
+would have avenged them; but experience has, on the contrary, made it
+more universal and more holy. We only accuse it of being a faithless
+debtor because we demand an immediate payment, and one apparent to our
+senses. We always consider life as a fairytale, in which every good
+action must be rewarded by a visible wonder. We do not accept as payment
+a peaceful conscience, self-content, or a good name among men--treasures
+that are more precious than any other, but the value of which we do not
+feel till after we have lost them!
+
+Michael is come back, and has returned to his work. His son has not yet
+arrived.
+
+By telling me of his hopes and his grievous disappointments, he became
+excited; he unceasingly went over again the same subject, always adding
+something to his griefs. He had just wound up his confidential discourse
+by speaking to me of a joiner’s business which he had hoped to buy, and
+work to good account with Robert’s help. The present owner had made a
+fortune by it, and, after thirty years of business, he was thinking of
+retiring to one of the ornamental cottages in the outskirts of the city,
+a usual retreat for the frugal and successful workingman. Michael had
+not indeed the two thousand francs which must be paid down; but perhaps
+he could have persuaded Master Benoit to wait. Robert’s presence would
+have been a security for him, for the young man could not fail to insure
+the prosperity of a workshop; besides science and skill, he had the
+power of invention and bringing to perfection. His father had discovered
+among his drawings a new plan for a staircase, which had occupied his
+thoughts for a long time; and he even suspected him of having engaged
+himself to the Versailles contractor for the very purpose of executing
+it. The youth was tormented by this spirit of invention, which took
+possession of all his thoughts, and, while devoting his mind to study,
+he had no time to listen to his feelings.
+
+Michael told me all this with a mixed feeling of pride and vexation. I
+saw he was proud of the son he was abusing, and that his very pride made
+him more sensitive to that son’s neglect.
+
+Six o’clock P.M.--I have just finished a happy day. How many events
+have happened within a few hours, and what a change for Genevieve and
+Michael!
+
+He had just finished fixing the shelves, and telling me of his son,
+while I laid the cloth for my breakfast.
+
+Suddenly we heard hurried steps in the passage, the door opened, and
+Genevieve entered with Robert.
+
+The joiner gave a start of joyful surprise, but he repressed it
+immediately, as if he wished to keep up the appearance of displeasure.
+
+The young man did not appear to notice it, but threw himself into his
+arms in an open-hearted manner, which surprised me. Genevieve, whose
+face shone with happiness, seemed to wish to speak, and to restrain
+herself with difficulty.
+
+I told Robert I was glad to see him, and he answered me with ease and
+civility.
+
+“I expected you yesterday,” said Michael Arout, rather dryly.
+
+“Forgive me, father,” replied the young workman, “but I had business at
+St. Germain’s. I was not able to come back till it was very late, and
+then the master kept me.”
+
+The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer
+again.
+
+“All right,” muttered he, in a grumbling tone; “when we are with other
+people we must do as they wish; but there are some who would like better
+to eat brown bread with their own knife than partridges with the silver
+fork of a master.”
+
+“And I am one of those, father,” replied Robert, merrily, “but, as the
+proverb says, ‘you must shell the peas before you can eat them.’ It was
+necessary that I should first work in a great workshop--”
+
+“To go on with your plan of the staircase,” interrupted Michael,
+ironically.
+
+“You must now say Monsieur Raymond’s plan, father,” replied Robert,
+smiling.
+
+“Why?”
+
+“Because I have sold it to him.”
+
+The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly.
+
+“Sold it!” cried he, with sparkling eyes.
+
+“For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him.”
+
+Michael threw down the board and tool.
+
+“There he is again!” resumed he, angrily; “his good genius puts an idea
+into his head which would have made him known, and he goes and sells it
+to a rich man, who will take the honor of it himself.”
+
+“Well, what harm is there done?” asked Genevieve.
+
+“What harm!” cried the joiner, in a passion. “You understand nothing
+about it--you are a woman; but he--he knows well that a true workman
+never gives up his own inventions for money, no more than a soldier
+would give up his cross. That is his glory; he is bound to keep it for
+the honor it does him! Ah, thunder! if I had ever made a discovery,
+rather than put it up at auction I would have sold one of my eyes! Don’t
+you see that a new invention is like a child to a workman? He takes care
+of it, he brings it up, he makes a way for it in the world, and it is
+only a poor creature who sells it.”
+
+Robert colored a little.
+
+“You will think differently, father,” said he, “when you know why I sold
+my plan.”
+
+“Yes, and you will thank him for it,” added Genevieve, who could no
+longer keep silence.
+
+“Never!” replied Michael.
+
+“But, wretched man!” cried she, “he sold it only for our sakes!”
+
+The joiner looked at his wife and son with astonishment. It was
+necessary to come to an explanation. The latter related how he had
+entered into a negotiation with Master Benoit, who had positively
+refused to sell his business unless one half of the two thousand francs
+were first paid down. It was in the hopes of obtaining this sum that
+he had gone to work with the contractor at Versailles; he had had an
+opportunity of trying his invention, and of finding a purchaser. Thanks
+to the money he received for it, he had just concluded the bargain with
+Benoit, and had brought his father the key of the new work-yard.
+
+This explanation was given by the young workman with so much modesty
+and simplicity that I was quite affected by it. Genevieve cried; Michael
+pressed his son to his heart, and in a long embrace he seemed to ask his
+pardon for having unjustly accused him.
+
+All was now explained with honor to Robert. The conduct which his
+parents had ascribed to indifference really sprang from affection; he
+had neither obeyed the voice of ambition nor of avarice, nor even the
+nobler inspiration of inventive genius: his whole motive and single aim
+had been the happiness of Genevieve and Michael. The day for proving his
+gratitude had come, and he had returned them sacrifice for sacrifice!
+
+After the explanations and exclamations of joy were over, all three were
+about to leave me; but, the cloth being laid, I added three more places,
+and kept them to breakfast.
+
+The meal was prolonged: the fare was only tolerable; but the
+over-flowings of affection made it delicious. Never had I better
+understood the unspeakable charm of family love. What calm enjoyment in
+that happiness which is always shared with others; in that community
+of interests which unites such various feelings; in that association of
+existences which forms one single being of so many! What is man without
+those home affections, which, like so many roots, fix him firmly in
+the earth, and permit him to imbibe all the juices of life? Energy,
+happiness--do not all these come from them? Without family life where
+would man learn to love, to associate, to deny himself? A community in
+little, is it not this which teaches us how to live in the great one?
+Such is the holiness of home, that, to express our relation with God, we
+have been obliged to borrow the words invented for our family life. Men
+have named themselves the sons of a heavenly Father!
+
+Ah! let us carefully preserve these chains of domestic union. Do not let
+us unbind the human sheaf, and scatter its ears to all the caprices of
+chance and of the winds; but let us rather enlarge this holy law; let us
+carry the principles and the habits of home beyond set bounds; and, if
+it may be, let us realize the prayer of the Apostle of the Gentiles
+when he exclaimed to the newborn children of Christ: “Be ye like-minded,
+having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.”
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. OUR COUNTRY
+
+
+October 12th, Seven O’clock A.M.
+
+The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through my
+curtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even when
+my eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under
+my counterpane. Every morning there begins a long argument between my
+activity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I wait
+like the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement.
+
+This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my
+pillow, awoke me earlier than usual. In vain I turned on my side;
+the persevering light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into every
+position. At last, quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled my
+nightcap to the foot of the bed!
+
+(I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions of
+this pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbols
+of the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed its
+most common images from them.)
+
+But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my
+new neighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to
+sleep. We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live
+on their own account. Each one of us is like the earth, according to the
+old system of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolve
+around himself. On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to:
+‘Tous les hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet’.
+
+I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to the
+other end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the
+warm bedclothes, while making a host of evil reflections upon the
+inconvenience of having neighbors.
+
+For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance
+had given me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again
+on rising. I was almost always alone on this top story--alone with the
+clouds and the sparrows!
+
+But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, like
+the seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take mere
+passengers. How many different faces have I already seen pass along the
+landing-place belonging to our attics! How many companions of a few days
+have disappeared forever! Some are lost in that medley of the living
+which whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others in
+that resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God!
+
+Peter the bookbinder is one of these last. Wrapped up in selfishness,
+he lived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived. His loss was
+neither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; there
+was merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied in
+our house.
+
+It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few
+days.
+
+To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with
+my nightcap)--to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier
+than suits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries
+his misfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, with
+cheerfulness and moderation.
+
+But fate has cruelly tried him. Father Chaufour is but the wreck of a
+man. In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left leg
+is made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; but
+above these ruins rises a calm and happy face. While looking upon his
+countenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice,
+the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see
+that the soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering. The
+fortress is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrison
+is quite hearty.
+
+Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproach
+myself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke.
+
+We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor.
+All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent to
+us, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sin
+which does not betray itself by action!
+
+But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws? Besides
+these external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling
+between men? Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven
+as ourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes? Ought not
+every human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with our
+prayers for a happy voyage? It is not enough that men do not harm
+one another; they must also help and love one another! The papal
+benediction, ‘Urbi et orbi’! should be the constant cry from all hearts.
+To condemn him who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by a
+passing thought, is to break the great law, that which has established
+the union of souls here below, and to which Christ has given the sweet
+name of charity.
+
+These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said to
+myself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me. To make
+amends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed
+him some explicit proof of sympathy. I heard him humming a tune in
+his room; he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first
+neighborly call.
+
+Eight o’clock P.M.--I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by a
+little smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, and
+making large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a low
+tone. I had hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation of
+surprise and pleasure.
+
+“Eh! is it you, neighbor? Come in, then! I did not think you got up so
+early, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you.”
+
+Excellent man! while I was sending him to the devil he was putting
+himself out of his way for me!
+
+This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having become
+my neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart.
+
+“Faith! you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian,” said he in
+a voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand. “I do not
+like those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, and
+treat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks. When men snuff the same
+air, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs
+to each other. Sit down there, neighbor; I don’t mean to order you; only
+take care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-will
+in place of the fourth.”
+
+“It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here,” I
+observed.
+
+“Good-will!” repeated Chaufour; “that is all my mother left me, and I
+take it no son has received a better inheritance. Therefore they used to
+call me Monsieur Content in the batteries.”
+
+“You are a soldier, then?”
+
+“I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward
+in the Guard, through all the commotions. I was at Jemappes and at
+Waterloo; so I was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as
+one may say!”
+
+I looked at him with astonishment.
+
+“And how old were you then, at Jemappes?” asked I.
+
+“Somewhere about fifteen,” said he.
+
+“How came you to think of being a soldier so early?”
+
+“I did not really think about it. I then worked at toy-making, and never
+dreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make her
+draught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls. But I had an old uncle
+at Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time--a Fontenoy veteran in
+the same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen
+to that of a marshal. Unluckily, in those days there was no way for
+common people to get on. My uncle, whose services would have got him
+made a prince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of
+sub-lieutenant. But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross
+of St. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noble
+countenance. You would have said he was a portrait of one of those old
+heroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles!
+
+“Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my
+memory. But one day I found him quite grave.
+
+“‘Jerome,’ said he, ‘do you know what is going on on the frontier?’
+
+“‘No, lieutenant,’ replied I.
+
+“‘Well,’ resumed he, ‘our country is in danger!’
+
+“I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me.
+
+“‘Perhaps you have never thought what your country means,’ continued he,
+placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all that
+has brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved! This ground
+that you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along there
+laughing--this is your country! The laws which protect you, the bread
+which pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the
+joy and grief which come to you from the men and things among which you
+live--this is your country! The little room where you used to see
+your mother, the remembrances she has left you, the earth where she
+rests--this is your country! You see it, you breathe it, everywhere!
+Think to yourself, my son, of your rights and your duties, your
+affections and your wants, your past and your present blessings; write
+them all under a single name--and that name will be your country!’
+
+“I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes.
+
+“‘Ah! I understand,’ cried I; ‘it is our home in large; it is that part
+of the world where God has placed our body and our soul.’
+
+“‘You are right, Jerome,’ continued the old soldier; ‘so you comprehend
+also what we owe it.’
+
+“‘Truly,’ resumed I, ‘we owe it all that we are; it is a question of
+love.’
+
+“‘And of honesty, my son,’ concluded he. ‘The member of a family who
+does not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his
+duty, and is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not
+enrich it with all his might, with all his courage, and with all his
+heart, defrauds it of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man. It
+is the same with him who enjoys the advantages of having a country, and
+does not accept the burdens of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad
+citizen!’
+
+“‘And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?’ asked I.
+
+“‘Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,’
+said he.
+
+“I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the blood
+boiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncle’s words
+were, so to speak, written up before my eyes. I repeated, ‘Do for your
+country what you would do for your father and mother.’ And my country is
+in danger; an enemy attacks it, while I--I turn cups and balls!
+
+“This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I
+returned to Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just
+enlisted, and was going off to the frontier. The brave man pressed upon
+me his cross of St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador.
+
+“That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I
+had cut my wisdom teeth.”
+
+All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looks
+upon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance.
+
+While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of
+himself, but of the general subject. Evidently that which occupied him
+in the drama of life was not his own part, but the drama itself.
+
+This sort of disinterestedness touched me. I prolonged my visit, and
+showed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence in
+return. In an hour’s time he knew my position and my habits; I was on
+the footing of an old acquaintance.
+
+I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a short
+time before. He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness which
+comes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything
+on the good side. He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged
+him to work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old
+soldier compared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his
+forehead, accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list
+round his door!
+
+O great and beautiful soul! with whom nothing turns to bitterness, and
+who art peremptory only in duty and benevolence!
+
+October 15th.--This morning I was looking at a little engraving I
+had framed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design of
+Gavarni’s; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and a
+conscript.
+
+By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression,
+and so true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen
+them move, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene,
+at which I am present as spectator.
+
+The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of the
+young soldier. His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sun
+shining through the flowering chestnut-trees. In the place of his right
+arm hangs an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound of
+which on the pavement makes those who pass turn to look.
+
+At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greater
+number shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or an
+imprecation.
+
+“See the worth of glory!” says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes
+in horror.
+
+“What a deplorable use of human life!” rejoins a young man who carries a
+volume of philosophy under his arm.
+
+“The trooper would better not have left his plow,” adds a countryman,
+with a cunning air.
+
+“Poor old man!” murmurs a woman, almost crying.
+
+The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him that
+his guide has grown thoughtful. The latter, attracted by what he hears
+around him, hardly answers the old man’s questions, and his eyes,
+vaguely lost in space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some
+problem.
+
+I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he
+stops abruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm:
+
+“They all pity me,” says he, “because they do not understand it; but if
+I were to answer them--”
+
+“What would you say to them, father?” asks the young man, with
+curiosity.
+
+“I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keep
+her tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind
+some struggle for my colors. There is room for doubting how some men
+have done their duty; with me it is visible. I carry the account of my
+services, written with the enemy’s steel and lead, on myself; to pity me
+for having done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false to
+it.”
+
+“And what would you say to the countryman, father?”
+
+“I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first
+secure the country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners
+ready to eat our harvest, there must be arms to defend it.”
+
+“But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use
+of life.”
+
+“Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach.
+The books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never
+read them: the principles he applauds we have defended with powder and
+bayonet.”
+
+“And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, when
+he saw your maimed body, ‘See the worth of glory!”’
+
+“Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul;
+it is this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage. The
+Master of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men. When we
+desire to be distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove our
+esteem and our sympathy for them? The longing for admiration is but one
+side of love. No, no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for!
+That which we should deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove
+a generous self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence
+have called forth. Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when
+passing, cast looks of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose
+excesses have dimmed his sight before he is old, ‘What have you done
+with your eyes?’ To the slothful man, who with difficulty drags along
+his enervated mass of flesh, ‘What have you done with your feet?’ To the
+old man, who is punished for his intemperance by the gout, ‘What have
+you done with your hands?’ To all, ‘What have you done with the days God
+granted you, with the faculties you should have employed for the good of
+your brethren?’ If you cannot answer, bestow no more of your pity upon
+the old soldier maimed in his country’s cause; for he--he at least--can
+show his scars without shame.”
+
+October 16th.--The little engraving has made me comprehend better the
+merits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more.
+
+He has just now left my attic. There no longer passes a single day
+without his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by
+his board.
+
+The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it. For twenty
+years he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought without
+hatred, for he was possessed by a single thought--the honor of the
+national flag! It might have been his superstition, if you will; but it
+was, at the same time, his safeguard.
+
+The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through the
+world, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation. To
+have to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it
+is an encouragement to vigorous ones.
+
+“I, too, have had many moments,” said he to me the other day, “when I
+have been tempted to make friends with the devil. War is not precisely
+the school for rural virtues. By dint of burning, destroying, and
+killing, you grow a little tough as regards your feelings; ‘and, when
+the bayonet has made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into
+your head a little strongly. But at these moments I called to mind that
+country which the lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself
+the well-known phrase, ‘Toujours Francais! It has been laughed at since.
+People who would make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it
+into ridicule, as if the name of our country was not also a noble and a
+binding thing. For my part, I shall never forget from how many follies
+the title of Frenchman has kept me. When, overcome with fatigue, I
+have found myself in the rear of the colors, and when the musketry
+was rattling in the front ranks, many a time I heard a voice, which
+whispered in my ear, ‘Leave the others to fight, and for today take care
+of your own hide!’ But then, that word Francais! murmured within me, and
+I pressed forward to help my comrades. At other times, when, irritated
+by hunger, cold, and wounds, I have arrived at the hovel of some
+Meinherr, I have been seized by an itching to break the master’s back,
+and to burn his hut; but I whispered to myself, Francais! and this name
+would not rhyme with either incendiary or murderer. I have, in this
+way, passed through kingdoms from east to west, and from north to south,
+always determined not to bring disgrace upon my country’s flag. The
+lieutenant, you see, had taught me a magic word--My country! Not only
+must we defend it, but we must also make it great and loved.”
+
+October 17th.--To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit. A chance
+expression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yet
+done.
+
+I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle.
+
+“No, no!” replied he; “the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart
+quarries that my arm went to feed.”
+
+And when I asked him for the particulars--
+
+“That’s as easy as to say good-morning,” continued he. “After the great
+break-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to give
+my wooden leg time to grow. As soon as I was able to hobble a little, I
+took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hoped to
+find some relative or friend; but no--all were gone, or underground. I
+should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin. And
+although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the better off;
+my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight.
+
+“I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped
+him out of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he had
+offered me bed and board at his house. I knew that the year before he
+had married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanent
+coat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations.
+It remained to see if I had not anything better to do. One evening I set
+myself to reflect upon it.
+
+“‘Let us see, Chaufour,’ said I to myself; ‘the question is to act like
+a man. The colonel’s place suits you, but cannot you do anything better?
+Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you not
+owe all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said?
+Why not leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his
+hospital at the colonel’s? Come, trooper, you are still fit for another
+stout charge or two! You must not lay up before your time.’
+
+“Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to an
+old artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who had
+taken up the quarryman’s pick again.
+
+“For the first few months I played the conscript’s part--that is to say,
+there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the better
+of stones, as of everything else. I did not become, so to speak, the
+leader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen,
+and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with
+a good will. For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride. The
+thought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into houses
+pleased my heart. I said to myself, ‘Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; you
+are helping to beautify your country.’ And that kept up my spirit.
+
+“Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to the
+charms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, who
+could hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper to
+strike a light close to a charged mine. The mine exploded suddenly,
+and sent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, and
+carried away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve.”
+
+“So you were again without means of living?” said I to the old soldier.
+
+“That is to say, I had to change them,” replied he, quietly. “The
+difficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead of
+ten; I found it, however.”
+
+“How was that?”
+
+“Among the Paris street-sweepers.”
+
+“What! you have been one--”
+
+“Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that was
+not my worst time either. The corps of sweepers is not so low as it is
+dirty, I can tell you! There are old actresses in it who could never
+learn to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; we
+even had a professor of classics, who for a little drink would recite
+Latin to you, or Greek tragedies, as you chose. They could not have
+competed for the Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account of
+poverty, and cheered our poverty by our good-humor and jokes. I was as
+ragged and as cheerful as the rest, while trying to be something better.
+Even in the mire of the gutter I preserved my faith that nothing is
+dishonorable which is useful to our country.
+
+“‘Chaufour,’ said I to myself with a smile, ‘after the sword, the
+hammer; after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old
+boy, but you are still serving your country.’”
+
+“‘However, you ended by leaving your new profession?’ said I.”
+
+“A reform was required, neighbor. The street-sweepers seldom have their
+feet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open
+again. I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to
+lay down my arms. It is now two months since I left off working in the
+sanitary department of Paris.
+
+“At the first moment I was daunted. Of my four limbs, I had now only my
+right hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary
+to find some gentlemanly occupation for it. After trying a little of
+everything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for the
+lace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, but
+it is within the capacity of all. By getting up at four and working
+till eight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup
+take fifty of them, and there are three sous over for luxuries. So I am
+richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I
+continue to serve her, as I save her lace and buttons.”
+
+At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with his
+great scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboard
+cases. My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought.
+
+Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle
+of life, always march in front for the example and the salvation of the
+world! Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is
+“Country,” for that “Home,” for a third “Mankind;” but they all
+follow the same standard--that of duty; for all the same divine law
+reigns--that of self-sacrifice. To love something more than one’s
+self--that is the secret of all that is great; to know how to live for
+others--that is the aim of all noble souls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. MORAL USE OF INVENTORIES
+
+November 13th, Nine O’clock P.M.
+
+I had well stopped up the chinks of my window; my little carpet was
+nailed down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast a
+subdued light around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as if
+some live creature was sharing my hearth with me.
+
+All was silent around me. But, out of doors the snow and rain swept the
+roofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters;
+sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beneath the tiles, which
+rattled together like castanets, and afterward it was lost in the empty
+corridor. Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my
+veins: I drew the flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I
+pulled my threadbare velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink
+deeper into my easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light
+which shone through the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a
+sensation of enjoyment, made more lively by the consciousness of the
+storm which raged without. My eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered
+over all the details of my peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to
+my bookcase, resting upon the little chintz sofa, the white curtains of
+the iron bedstead, and the portfolio of loose papers--those archives
+of the attics; and then, returning to the book I held in my hand, they
+attempted to seize once more the thread of the reading which had been
+thus interrupted.
+
+In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first interested me, had
+become painful to me. I had come to the conclusion that the pictures of
+the writer were too sombre. His description of the miseries of the
+world appeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of
+poverty and of suffering; neither God nor man could show themselves so
+harsh toward the sons of Adam. The author had yielded to an artistic
+temptation: he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Nero
+burned Rome for the sake of the picturesque.
+
+Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so much
+criticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it to
+satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness
+of the wise man costs but little, and asks but little space.
+
+These consoling reflections became more and more confused. At last my
+book fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop and
+take it up again; and insensibly overcome by the luxury of the silence,
+the subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep.
+
+I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging to
+a first sleep; at last some vague and broken sensations came over me.
+It seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder.
+I half perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretell
+the coming of winter. I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and there
+with juniper-trees white with frost. Then the scene suddenly changed.
+I was in the diligence; the cold wind shook the doors and windows; the
+trees, loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust my
+benumbed feet into the crushed straw. At last the carriage stopped, and,
+by one of those stage effects so common in sleep, I found myself alone
+in a barn, without a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides.
+I saw again my mother’s gentle face, known only to me in my early
+childhood, the noble and stern countenance of my father, the little fair
+head of my sister, who was taken from us at ten years old; all my dead
+family lived again around me; they were there, exposed to the bitings
+of the cold and to the pangs of hunger. My mother prayed by the resigned
+old man, and my sister, rolled up on some rags of which they had made
+her a bed, wept in silence, and held her naked feet in her little blue
+hands.
+
+It was a page from the book I had just read transferred into my own
+existence.
+
+My heart was oppressed with inexpressible anguish. Crouched in a corner,
+with my eyes fixed upon this dismal picture, I felt the cold slowly
+creeping upon me, and I said to myself with bitterness:
+
+“Let us die, since poverty is a dungeon guarded by suspicion, apathy,
+and contempt, and from which it is vain to try to escape; let us die,
+since there is no place for us at the banquet of the living!”
+
+And I tried to rise to join my mother again, and to wait at her feet for
+the hour of release.
+
+This effort dispelled my dream, and I awoke with a start.
+
+I looked around me; my lamp was expiring, the fire in my stove
+extinguished, and my half-opened door was letting in an icy wind. I
+got up, with a shiver, to shut and double-lock it; then I made for the
+alcove, and went to bed in haste.
+
+But the cold kept me awake a long time, and my thoughts continued the
+interrupted dream.
+
+The pictures I had lately accused of exaggeration now seemed but a too
+faithful representation of reality; and I went to sleep without being
+able to recover my optimism--or my warmth.
+
+Thus did a cold stove and a badly closed door alter my point of view.
+All went well when my blood circulated properly; all looked gloomy when
+the cold laid hold on me.
+
+This reminds me of the story of the duchess who was obliged to pay a
+visit to the neighboring convent on a winter’s day. The convent was
+poor, there was no wood, and the monks had nothing but their discipline
+and the ardor of their prayers to keep out the cold. The duchess, who
+was shivering with cold, returned home, greatly pitying the poor monks.
+While the servants were taking off her cloak and adding two more logs to
+her fire, she called her steward, whom she ordered to send some wood
+to the convent immediately. She then had her couch moved close to the
+fireside, the warmth of which soon revived her. The recollection of what
+she had just suffered was speedily lost in her present comfort, when the
+steward came in again to ask how many loads of wood he was to send.
+
+“Oh! you may wait,” said the great lady carelessly; “the weather is very
+much milder.”
+
+Thus, man’s judgments are formed less from reason than from sensation;
+and as sensation comes to him from the outward world, so he finds
+himself more or less under its influence; by little and little he
+imbibes a portion of his habits and feelings from it.
+
+It is not, then, without cause that, when we wish to judge of a
+stranger beforehand, we look for indications of his character in the
+circumstances which surround him. The things among which we live are
+necessarily made to take our image, and we unconsciously leave in them
+a thousand impressions of our minds. As we can judge by an empty bed
+of the height and attitude of him who has slept in it, so the abode of
+every man discovers to a close observer the extent of his intelligence
+and the feelings of his heart. Bernardin de St.-Pierre has related the
+story of a young girl who refused a suitor because he would never have
+flowers or domestic animals in his house. Perhaps the sentence was
+severe, but not without reason. We may presume that a man insensible
+to beauty and to humble affection must be ill prepared to feel the
+enjoyments of a happy marriage.
+
+14th, seven o’clock P.M.--This morning, as I was opening my journal to
+write, I had a visit from our old cashier.
+
+His sight is not so good as it was, his hand begins to shake, and the
+work he was able to do formerly is now becoming somewhat laborious to
+him. I had undertaken to write out some of his papers, and he came for
+those I had finished.
+
+We conversed a long time by the stove, while he was drinking a cup of
+coffee which I made him take.
+
+M. Rateau is a sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little; so
+that he has always something to say.
+
+While looking over the accounts I had prepared for him, his look fell
+upon my journal, and I was obliged to acknowledge that in this way I
+wrote a diary of my actions and thoughts every evening for private use.
+From one thing to another, I began speaking to him of my dream the day
+before, and my reflections about the influence of outward objects upon
+our ordinary sentiments. He smiled.
+
+“Ah! you, too, have my superstitions,” he said, quietly. “I have always
+believed, like you, that you may know the game by the lair: it is
+only necessary to have tact and experience; but without them we commit
+ourselves to many rash judgments. For my part. I have been guilty of
+this more than once, but sometimes I have also drawn a right conclusion.
+I recollect especially an adventure which goes as far back as the first
+years of my youth--”
+
+He stopped. I looked at him as if I waited for his story, and he told it
+me at once.
+
+At this time he was still but third clerk to an attorney at Orleans. His
+master had sent him to Montargis on different affairs, and he intended
+to return in the diligence the same evening, after having received
+the amount of a bill at a neighboring town; but they kept him at the
+debtor’s house, and when he was able to set out the day had already
+closed.
+
+Fearing not to be able to reach Montargis in good time, he took a
+crossroad they pointed out to him. Unfortunately the fog increased, no
+star was visible in the heavens, and the darkness became so great
+that he lost his road. He tried to retrace his steps, passed twenty
+footpaths, and at last was completely astray.
+
+After the vexation of losing his place in the diligence, came the
+feeling of uneasiness as to his situation. He was alone, on foot, lost
+in a forest, without any means of finding his right road again, and with
+a considerable sum of money about him, for which he was responsible.
+His anxiety was increased by his inexperience. The idea of a forest was
+connected in his mind with so many adventures of robbery and murder,
+that he expected some fatal encounter every instant.
+
+To say the truth, his situation was not encouraging. The place was not
+considered safe, and for some time past there had been rumors of the
+sudden disappearance of several horse-dealers, though there was no trace
+of any crime having been committed.
+
+Our young traveller, with his eyes staring forward, and his ears
+listening, followed a footpath which he supposed might take him to some
+house or road; but woods always succeeded to woods. At last he perceived
+a light at a distance, and in a quarter of an hour he reached the
+highroad.
+
+A single house, the light from which had attracted him, appeared at a
+little distance. He was going toward the entrance gate of the courtyard,
+when the trot of a horse made him turn his head. A man on horseback had
+just appeared at the turning of the road, and in an instant was close to
+him.
+
+The first words he addressed to the young man showed him to be the
+farmer himself. He related how he had lost himself, and learned from the
+countryman that he was on the road to Pithiviers. Montargis was three
+leagues behind him.
+
+The fog had insensibly changed into a drizzling rain, which was
+beginning to wet the young clerk through; he seemed afraid of the
+distance he had still to go, and the horseman, who saw his hesitation,
+invited him to come into the farmhouse.
+
+It had something of the look of a fortress. Surrounded by a pretty high
+wall, it could not be seen except through the bars of the great gate,
+which was carefully closed. The farmer, who had got off his horse, did
+not go near it, but, turning to the right, reached another entrance
+closed in the same way, but of which he had the key.
+
+Hardly had he passed the threshold when a terrible barking resounded
+from each end of the yard. The farmer told his guest to fear nothing,
+and showed him the dogs chained up to their kennels; both were of an
+extraordinary size, and so savage that the sight of their master himself
+could not quiet them.
+
+A boy, attracted by their barking, came out of the house and took the
+farmer’s horse. The latter began questioning him about some orders he
+had given before he left the house, and went toward the stable to see
+that they had been executed.
+
+Thus left alone, our clerk looked about him.
+
+A lantern which the boy had placed on the ground cast a dim light over
+the courtyard. All around seemed empty and deserted. Not a trace was
+visible of the disorder often seen in a country farmyard, and which
+shows a temporary cessation of the work which is soon to be resumed
+again. Neither a cart forgotten where the horses had been unharnessed,
+nor sheaves of corn heaped up ready for threshing, nor a plow overturned
+in a corner and half hidden under the freshly-cut clover. The yard was
+swept, the barns shut up and padlocked. Not a single vine creeping up
+the walls; everywhere stone, wood, and iron!
+
+He took up the lantern and went up to the corner of the house. Behind
+was a second yard, where he heard the barking of a third dog, and a
+covered wall was built in the middle of it.
+
+Our traveller looked in vain for the little farm garden, where pumpkins
+of different sorts creep along the ground, or where the bees from the
+hives hum under the hedges of honeysuckle and elder. Verdure and
+flowers were nowhere to be seen. He did not even perceive the sight of a
+poultry-yard or pigeon-house. The habitation of his host was everywhere
+wanting in that which makes the grace and the life of the country.
+
+The young man thought that his host must be of a very careless or a very
+calculating disposition, to concede so little to domestic enjoyments and
+the pleasures of the eye; and judging, in spite of himself, by what he
+saw, he could not help feeling a distrust of his character.
+
+In the mean time the farmer returned from the stables, and made him
+enter the house.
+
+The inside of the farmhouse corresponded to its outside. The whitewashed
+walls had no other ornament than a row of guns of all sizes; the massive
+furniture hardly redeemed its clumsy appearance by its great solidity.
+The cleanliness was doubtful, and the absence of all minor conveniences
+proved that a woman’s care was wanting in the household concerns. The
+young clerk learned that the farmer, in fact, lived here with no one but
+his two sons.
+
+Of this, indeed, the signs were plain enough. A table with the cloth
+laid, that no one had taken the trouble to clear away, was left near the
+window. The plates and dishes were scattered upon it without any order,
+and loaded with potato-parings and half-picked bones. Several empty
+bottles emitted an odor of brandy, mixed with the pungent smell of
+tobacco-smoke.
+
+After seating his guest, the farmer lighted his pipe, and his two sons
+resumed their work by the fireside. Now and then the silence was just
+broken by a short remark, answered by a word or an exclamation; and then
+all became as mute as before.
+
+“From my childhood,” said the old cashier, “I had been very sensible to
+the impression of outward objects; later in life, reflection had taught
+me to study the causes of these impressions rather than to drive them
+away. I set myself, then, to examine everything around me with great
+attention.
+
+“Below the guns, I had remarked on entering, some wolftraps were
+suspended, and to one of them still hung the mangled remains of a wolf’s
+paw, which they had not yet taken off from the iron teeth. The blackened
+chimneypiece was ornamented by an owl and a raven nailed on the wall,
+their wings extended, and their throats with a huge nail through each;
+a fox’s skin, freshly flayed, was spread before the window; and a larder
+hook, fixed into the principal beam, held a headless goose, whose body
+swayed about over our heads.
+
+“My eyes were offended by all these details, and I turned them again
+upon my hosts. The father, who sat opposite to me, only interrupted his
+smoking to pour out his drink, or address some reprimand to his
+sons. The eldest of these was scraping a deep bucket, and the bloody
+scrapings, which he threw into the fire every instant, filled the room
+with a disagreeable fetid smell; the second son was sharpening some
+butcher’s knives. I learned from a word dropped from the father that
+they were preparing to kill a pig the next day.
+
+“These occupations and the whole aspect of things inside the house told
+of such habitual coarseness in their way of living as seemed to explain,
+while it formed the fitting counterpart of, the forbidding gloominess
+of the outside. My astonishment by degrees changed into disgust, and my
+disgust into uneasiness. I cannot detail the whole chain of ideas which
+succeeded one another in my imagination; but, yielding to an impulse I
+could not overcome, I got up, declaring I would go on my road again.
+
+“The farmer made some effort to keep me; he spoke of the rain, of the
+darkness, and of the length of the way. I replied to all by the absolute
+necessity there was for my being at Montargis that very night; and
+thanking him for his brief hospitality, I set off again in a haste which
+might well have confirmed the truth of my words to him.
+
+“However, the freshness of the night and the exercise of walking did not
+fail to change the directions of my thoughts. When away from the objects
+which had awakened such lively disgust in me, I felt it gradually
+diminishing. I began to smile at the susceptibility of my feelings,
+and then, in proportion as the rain became heavier and colder, these
+strictures on myself assumed a tone of ill-temper. I silently accused
+myself of the absurdity of mistaking sensation for admonitions of my
+reason. After all, were not the farmer and his sons free to live alone,
+to hunt, to keep dogs, and to kill a pig? Where was the crime of it?
+With less nervous susceptibility, I should have accepted the shelter
+they offered me, and I should now be sleeping snugly on a truss of
+straw, instead of walking with difficulty through the cold and drizzling
+rain. I thus continued to reproach myself, until, toward morning, I
+arrived at Montargis, jaded and benumbed with cold.
+
+“When, however, I got up refreshed, toward the middle of the next day,
+I instinctively returned to my first opinion. The appearance of the
+farmhouse presented itself to me under the same repulsive colors which
+the evening before had determined me to make my escape from it. Reason
+itself remained silent when reviewing all those coarse details, and was
+forced to recognize in them the indications of a low nature, or else the
+presence of some baleful influence.
+
+“I went away the next day without being able to learn anything
+concerning the farmer or his sons; but the recollection of my adventure
+remained deeply fixed in my memory.
+
+“Ten years afterward I was travelling in the diligence through the
+department of the Loiret; I was leaning from the window, and looking at
+some coppice ground now for the first time brought under cultivation,
+and the mode of clearing which one of my travelling companions was
+explaining to me, when my eyes fell upon a walled inclosure, with an
+iron-barred gate. Inside it I perceived a house with all the blinds
+closed, and which I immediately recollected; it was the farmhouse where
+I had been sheltered. I eagerly pointed it out to my companion, and
+asked who lived in it.
+
+“‘Nobody just now,’ replied he.
+
+“‘But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?’
+
+“‘The Turreaus;’ said my travelling companion, looking at me; ‘did you
+know them?’
+
+“‘I saw them once.’
+
+“He shook his head.
+
+“‘Yes, yes!’ resumed he; ‘for many years they lived there like wolves in
+their den; they merely knew how to till land, kill game, and drink. The
+father managed the house, but men living alone, without women to love
+them, without children to soften them, and without God to make them
+think of heaven, always turn into wild beasts, you see; so one morning
+the eldest son, who had been drinking too much brandy, would not harness
+the plow-horses; his father struck him with his whip, and the son, who
+was mad drunk, shot him dead with his gun.’”
+
+16th, P.M.--I have been thinking of the story of the old cashier these
+two days; it came so opportunely upon the reflections my dream had
+suggested to me.
+
+Have I not an important lesson to learn from all this?
+
+If our sensations have an incontestable influence upon our judgments,
+how comes it that we are so little careful of those things which awaken
+or modify these sensations? The external world is always reflected in us
+as in a mirror, and fills our minds with pictures which, unconsciously
+to ourselves, become the germs of our opinions and of our rules of
+conduct. All the objects which surround us are then, in reality, so many
+talismans whence good and evil influences are emitted, and it is for
+us to choose them wisely, so as to create a healthy atmosphere for our
+minds.
+
+Feeling convinced of this truth, I set about making a survey of my
+attic.
+
+The first object on which my eyes rest is an old map of the history of
+the principal monastery in my native province. I had unrolled it with
+much satisfaction, and placed it on the most conspicuous part of the
+wall. Why had I given it this place? Ought this sheet of old worm-eaten
+parchment to be of so much value to me, who am neither an antiquary nor
+a scholar? Is not its real importance in my sight that one of the abbots
+who founded it bore my name, and that I shall, perchance, be able
+to make myself a genealogical tree of it for the edification of my
+visitors? While writing this, I feel my own blushes. Come, down with the
+map! let us banish it into my deepest drawer.
+
+As I passed my glass, I perceived several visiting cards complacently
+displayed in the frame. By what chance is it that there are only
+names that make a show among them? Here is a Polish count--a retired
+colonel--the deputy of my department. Quick, quick, into the fire with
+these proofs of vanity! and let us put this card in the handwriting of
+our office-boy, this direction for cheap dinners, and the receipt of
+the broker where I bought my last armchair, in their place. These
+indications of my poverty will serve, as Montaigne says, ‘mater ma
+superbe’, and will always make me recollect the modesty in which the
+dignity of the lowly consists.
+
+I have stopped before the prints hanging upon the wall. This large
+and smiling Pomona, seated on sheaves of corn, and whose basket is
+overflowing with fruit, only produces thoughts of joy and plenty; I was
+looking at her the other day, when I fell asleep denying such a thing
+as misery. Let us give her as companion this picture of Winter, in which
+everything tells of sorrow and suffering: one picture will modify the
+other.
+
+And this Happy Family of Greuze’s! What joy in the children’s eyes! What
+sweet repose in the young woman’s face! What religious feeling in the
+grandfather’s countenance! May God preserve their happiness to them! but
+let us hang by its side the picture of this mother, who weeps over an
+empty cradle. Human life has two faces, both of which we must dare to
+contemplate in their turn.
+
+Let me hide, too, these ridiculous monsters which ornament my
+chimneypiece. Plato has said that “the beautiful is nothing else than
+the visible form of the good.” If it is so, the ugly should be the
+visible form of the evil, and, by constantly beholding it, the mind
+insensibly deteriorates.
+
+But above all, in order to cherish the feelings of kindness and pity,
+let me hang at the foot of my bed this affecting picture of the Last
+Sleep! Never have I been able to look at it without feeling my heart
+touched.
+
+An old woman, clothed in rags, is lying by a roadside; her stick is at
+her feet, and her head rests upon a stone; she has fallen asleep; her
+hands are clasped; murmuring a prayer of her childhood, she sleeps her
+last sleep, she dreams her last dream!
+
+She sees herself, again a strong and happy child, keeping the sheep on
+the common, gathering the berries from the hedges, singing, curtsying to
+passers-by, and making the sign of the cross when the first star appears
+in the heavens! Happy time, filled with fragrance and sunshine! She
+wants nothing yet, for she is ignorant of what there is to wish for.
+
+But see her grown up; the time is come for working bravely: she must
+cut the corn, thresh the wheat, carry the bundles of flowering clover
+or branches of withered leaves to the farm. If her toil is hard, hope
+shines like a sun over everything and it wipes the drops of sweat away.
+The growing girl already sees that life is a task, but she still sings
+as she fulfills it.
+
+By-and-bye the burden becomes heavier; she is a wife, she is a mother!
+She must economize the bread of to-day, have her eye upon the morrow,
+take care of the sick, and sustain the feeble; she must act, in short,
+that part of an earthly Providence, so easy when God gives us his aid,
+so hard when he forsakes us. She is still strong, but she is anxious;
+she sings no longer!
+
+Yet a few years, and all is overcast. The husband’s health is broken;
+his wife sees him pine away by the now fireless hearth; cold and hunger
+finish what sickness had begun; he dies, and his widow sits on the
+ground by the coffin provided by the charity of others, pressing her two
+half-naked little ones in her arms. She dreads the future, she weeps,
+and she droops her head.
+
+At last the future has come; the children are grown up, but they are no
+longer with her. Her son is fighting under his country’s flag, and his
+sister is gone. Both have been lost to her for a long time--perhaps
+forever; and the strong girl, the brave wife, the courageous mother, is
+henceforth only a poor old beggar-woman, without a family, and without
+a home! She weeps no more, sorrow has subdued her; she surrenders, and
+waits for death.
+
+Death, that faithful friend of the wretched, is come: not hideous and
+with mockery, as superstition represents, but beautiful, smiling, and
+crowned with stars! The gentle phantom stoops to the beggar; its pale
+lips murmur a few airy words, which announce to her the end of her
+labors; a peaceful joy comes over the aged beggarwoman, and, leaning on
+the shoulder of the great Deliverer, she has passed unconsciously from
+her last earthly sleep to her eternal rest.
+
+Lie there, thou poor way-wearied woman! The leaves will serve thee for a
+winding-sheet. Night will shed her tears of dew over thee, and the birds
+will sing sweetly by thy remains. Thy visit here below will not have
+left more trace than their flight through the air; thy name is already
+forgotten, and the only legacy thou hast to leave is the hawthorn stick
+lying forgotten at thy feet!
+
+Well! some one will take it up--some soldier of that great human host
+which is scattered abroad by misery or by vice; for thou art not an
+exception, thou art an instance; and under the same sun which shines
+so pleasantly upon all, in the midst of these flowering vineyards, this
+ripe corn, and these wealthy cities, entire generations suffer, succeed
+each other, and still bequeath to each the beggar’s stick!
+
+The sight of this sad picture shall make me more grateful for what God
+has given me, and more compassionate for those whom he has treated with
+less indulgence; it shall be a lesson and a subject for reflection for
+me.
+
+Ah! if we would watch for everything that might improve and instruct
+us; if the arrangements of our daily life were so disposed as to be a
+constant school for our minds! but oftenest we take no heed of them. Man
+is an eternal mystery to himself; his own person is a house into which
+he never enters, and of which he studies the outside alone. Each of
+us need have continually before him the famous inscription which once
+instructed Socrates, and which was engraved on the walls of Delphi by an
+unknown hand:
+
+             KNOW THYSELF.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE END OF THE YEAR
+
+December 30th, P.M.
+
+I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had
+kept me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was
+making efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light
+struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at
+times I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my
+ideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental
+wandering and consciousness.
+
+Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from
+the top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. We
+distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on
+the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden
+with mist, and all is confused and indistinct.
+
+Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed
+my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to
+separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the
+other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one
+another.
+
+Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath
+the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female
+figure appears before me!
+
+At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of
+Eve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had
+the pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery of
+a thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues,
+and held a withered garland in her hand.
+
+After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and
+what brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following the
+movements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:
+
+“You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to
+receive your thanks and your farewell.”
+
+I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter
+resentment.
+
+“Ah! you want thanks,” cried I; “but first let me know what for?
+
+“When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have
+taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by
+inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less
+warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You
+have planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer
+flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old
+age!
+
+“And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also
+diminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm;
+she is become more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took in
+the whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her
+nearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself! That is what you
+have done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see
+to what grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it! For the many
+days that the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care
+of this home in which I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closets
+empty, my bookcase, stripped, all my poor treasures lost through
+negligence or dishonesty? Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I
+fed? All are gone! my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary! As it is
+only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousness of
+what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my long
+illness! Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means of
+recompense are exhausted! And what will my masters, for whom I am
+bound to work, have said to my absence? At this time of the year, when
+business is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they
+even have tried to do so? Perhaps I am already superseded in the humble
+situation by which I earned my daily bread! And it is thou-thou alone,
+wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon
+me: strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me. I have
+only received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim
+my gratitude!”
+
+“Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and
+may I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that
+of a king:
+
+     “‘Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here
+     cannot live again.’”
+
+       .......................
+
+I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized
+the doctor.
+
+After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of
+the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox. I have
+since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor.
+
+“Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?” said M. Lambert, in
+his half-joking, half-scolding way. “What the deuce of a hurry we were
+in! It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!”
+
+“Then you had given me up, doctor?” asked I, rather alarmed.
+
+“Not at all,” replied the old physician. “We can’t give up what we
+have not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope. We are but
+instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with
+Ambroise Pare: ‘I tend him, God cures him!”’
+
+“May He be blessed then, as well as you,” cried I; “and may my health
+come back with the new year!”
+
+M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.
+
+“Begin by asking yourself for it,” resumed he, bluntly. “God has given
+it you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for
+you. One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us
+like the rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the
+matter. Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve
+to be well.”
+
+I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry.
+
+“Ah! you think that I am joking,” resumed he, raising his voice; “but
+tell me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he
+gives to his business? Do you economize your strength as you economize
+your money? Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the
+same care as extravagance or foolish speculations in the other? Do
+you keep as regular accounts of your mode of living as you do of
+your income? Do you consider every evening what has been wholesome
+or unwholesome for you, with the same care that you bring to the
+examination of your expenditure? You may smile; but have you not brought
+this illness on yourself by a thousand indiscretions?”
+
+I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these
+indiscretions. The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to
+reckon upon them one by one.
+
+“Primo,” cried he, “want of exercise. You live here like a mouse in
+a cheese, without air, motion, or change. Consequently, the blood
+circulates badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do
+not claim their share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain
+grows weary.
+
+“Secundo. Irregular food. Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave who
+must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen revenge,
+like all slaves.
+
+“Tertio. Sitting up late. Instead of using the night for sleep, you
+spend it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk!
+At the time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through
+these nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for
+them the next day.
+
+“Quarto. Luxurious habits. Shut up in your attic, you insensibly
+surround yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences. You must have
+list for your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an
+easy-chair stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the
+first sign of cold, and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these
+precautions, the least draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give
+you no rest, and you must wear spectacles to support the light of
+day. You have thought you were acquiring comforts, and you have only
+contracted infirmities.
+
+“Quinto”
+
+“Ah! enough, enough, doctor!” cried I. “Pray, do not carry your
+examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my
+pleasures.”
+
+The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.
+
+“You see,” said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, “you would
+escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are
+guilty. ‘Habemus confitentem reum’! But at least, my friend, do not go
+on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman.”
+
+Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his
+function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.
+
+When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.
+
+Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the
+main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we
+should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him
+finish the examination he had begun.
+
+But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns
+the health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of
+preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of
+God’s soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall
+I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO
+IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?
+
+Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast
+erred?
+
+First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the
+lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and
+have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which
+had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men
+solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I
+have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and
+my sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd,
+which I ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is
+composed of my brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as
+much indifference as if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with
+him who rolls in riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and
+yet, vain of my trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I
+scorn the poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit
+for a gift which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of
+fortune into a weapon with which to attack others.
+
+Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and
+raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in
+the envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the
+contemptuous pride of knowledge.
+
+Alas! I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the
+magician of Bagdad.
+
+One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind,
+while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight. The latter, proud of
+his own advantages, laughed at his brother’s blindness, and disdained
+him as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him.
+
+“To what purpose,” said he, “since the gods have put nothing in common
+between us? For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes
+and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an
+obscure abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of
+an invisible world. Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the
+pleasures of light to those upon whom the day-star shines.”
+
+With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry
+bitterly. His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried
+to console him by promising to give him whatever he desired.
+
+“Can you give me sight?” asked the child.
+
+“Fate does not permit it,” said the magician.
+
+“Then,” cried the blind boy, eagerly, “I ask you to put out the sun!”
+
+Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of
+some one of my brothers who does not see?
+
+But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought!
+How many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I
+pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not
+done without any sense of my responsibility! The greater part of men
+harm one another for the sake of doing something. We laugh at the honor
+of one, and compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who
+saunters along a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying
+the most beautiful flowers.
+
+And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of
+some men is created. It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious
+mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every
+passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes,
+without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a
+gibbet. Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up
+there to view?
+
+Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which
+the Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths
+which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my
+attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance
+to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he
+described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and
+in a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his
+eyes every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it
+appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and
+that she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my
+heart. Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the
+attempt to justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again
+immediately with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his
+threatening evolutions in the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly
+endeavoring to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind
+the hill.
+
+I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen
+tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though
+they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose
+rather to be their tormentors.
+
+I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these
+crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they
+deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the
+path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.
+
+The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in
+place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an
+angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only
+an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining
+the management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.
+
+I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my
+faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every
+finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame. A
+manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to assist
+in extinguishing it.
+
+I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was
+awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my
+way.
+
+Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from
+selfishness and cowardice.
+
+But what! have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties
+which bind us to our fellowmen? Is this the first time I have avoided
+paying society what I owe it? Have I not always behaved to my companions
+with injustice, and like the lion? Have I not claimed successively every
+share? If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little
+portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every
+means. How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up
+at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that
+compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable! How often
+have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice
+harden my heart against them.
+
+With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor
+man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves!
+
+Oh! let us not go farther--let us not go farther! I interrupted the
+doctor’s examination, but how much sadder is this one! We pity the
+diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul.
+
+I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier.
+
+Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the
+figure of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and
+sometimes sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard.
+
+He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and
+his great scissors. I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful
+exclamation, and came near me.
+
+“Well! so the bullet is found again!” cried he, taking my two hands into
+the maimed one which was left him; “it has not been without trouble, I
+can tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in.
+I have seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my
+hospital days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was
+on fire in his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines;
+but the third day it all went out of itself. But with you it has lasted
+twenty-eight days--as long as one of the Little Corporal’s campaigns.”
+
+“I am not mistaken then; you were near me?”
+
+“Well! I had only to cross the passage. This left hand has not made you
+a bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah! you did not know what hand
+gave you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being
+drowned--for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster.”
+
+The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to
+speak, pressed his hand against my breast. He saw my emotion, and
+hastened to put an end to it.
+
+“By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw
+your rations again,” resumed he gayly; “four meals, like the German
+meinherrs--nothing more! The doctor is your house steward.”
+
+“We must find the cook, too,” replied I, with a smile.
+
+“She is found,” said the veteran.
+
+“Who is she?”
+
+“Genevieve.”
+
+“The fruit-woman?”
+
+“While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear
+her sparing either butter or trouble. As long as life and death were
+fighting for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down
+stairs to learn which way the battle went. And, stay, I am sure this is
+she.”
+
+In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door.
+
+“Oh, well!” continued he, “it is Mother Millot, our portress, another
+of your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you.
+Come in, Mother Millot--come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning,
+and ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes.”
+
+The portress came in, quite delighted. She brought my linen, washed and
+mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her
+sailor son, and kept for great occasions. I would have thanked her,
+but the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the
+doctor had forbidden me to speak. I saw her arrange everything in my
+drawers, the neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand
+had evidently been there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable
+disorder consequent on sickness.
+
+As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by
+Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the
+same time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to
+be convalescent. The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she
+herself wished to see me eat.
+
+It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her. At every
+detail she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her
+to be less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper. They made a circle
+around me to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied
+by their expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness. Never had the
+King of France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among
+the spectators.
+
+As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier,
+entered in his turn.
+
+I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him. How would the
+heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me?
+
+I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by
+me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a
+word about our masters. I could not endure this uncertainty any longer.
+
+“And the Messieurs Durmer,” asked I, hesitatingly, “how have they
+taken--the interruption to my work?”
+
+“There has been no interruption,” replied the old clerk, quietly.
+
+“What do you mean?”
+
+“Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as
+usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference.”
+
+This was too much. After so many instances of affection, this filled up
+the measure. I could not restrain my tears.
+
+Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been
+acknowledged by them a hundredfold! I had sown a little seed, and every
+grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf. Ah!
+this completes the lesson the doctor gave me. If it is true that the
+diseases, whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and
+our vices, sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having
+done our duty. Every one of us, with God’s help, and within the
+narrow limits of human capability, himself makes his own disposition,
+character, and permanent condition.
+
+Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and
+my birds, and they are my only companions. The setting sun reddens my
+half-closed curtains with its last rays. My brain is clear, and my heart
+lighter. A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that
+happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep.
+
+Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand
+changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me;
+but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile.
+
+“Adieu, beloved year! whom I but now unjustly accused. That which I have
+suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through
+which God had marked out my road--a ground where I had reaped the
+harvest I had sown. I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those
+hours of happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for
+the suffering thou hast seen me endure. Neither happiness nor suffering
+came from thee; but thou hast been the scene for them. Descend again
+then, in peace, into eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me
+experience in the place of youth, sweet memories instead of past time,
+and gratitude as payment for good offices.”
+
+
+     ETEXT EDITOR’S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     Always to mistake feeling for evidence
+     Ambroise Pare: ‘I tend him, God cures him!’
+     Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws
+     Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures
+     Brought them up to poverty
+     But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
+     Carn-ival means, literally, “farewell to flesh!”
+      Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor’s housekeeping
+     Contemptuous pride of knowledge
+     Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
+     Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
+     Did not think the world was so great
+     Do they understand what makes them so gay?
+     Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community
+     Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness
+     Every one keeps his holidays in his own way
+     Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought
+     Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--“I know”
+      Fear of losing a moment from business
+     Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent
+     Fortune sells what we believe she gives
+     Her kindness, which never sleeps
+     Houses are vessels which take mere passengers
+     Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply
+     I make it a rule never to have any hope
+     Ignorant of what there is to wish for
+     Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance
+     Make himself a name: he becomes public property
+     Moderation is the great social virtue
+     More stir than work
+     My patronage has become her property
+     No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give
+     Not desirous to teach goodness
+     Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+     Our tempers are like an opera-glass
+     Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress
+     Power of necessity
+     Prisoners of work
+     Progress can never be forced on without danger
+     Question is not to discover what will suit us
+     Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget
+     Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival
+     Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them
+     Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little
+     So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las
+     Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims
+     The happiness of the wise man costs but little
+     The man in power gives up his peace
+     Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation
+     Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils
+     We do not understand that others may live on their own account
+     We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty
+     What have you done with the days God granted you
+     What a small dwelling joy can live
+     You may know the game by the lair
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An “Attic” Philosopher, Complete
+by Emile Souvestre
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN “ATTIC” PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE ***
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+<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
+
+<!DOCTYPE html
+   PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN"
+   "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" >
+
+<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en">
+  <head>
+    <title>
+      An 'Attic' Philosopher, by Emile Souvestre
+    </title>
+    <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve">
+
+    body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify}
+    P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; }
+    H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; }
+    hr  { width: 50%; text-align: center;}
+    .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; }
+    blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;}
+    .mynote    {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;}
+    .toc       { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;}
+    .toc2      { margin-left: 20%;}
+    div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; }
+    .figleft   {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;}
+    .figright  {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;}
+    pre     { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;}
+
+</style>
+  </head>
+  <body>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+Project Gutenberg's An "Attic" Philosopher, Complete, by Emile Souvestre
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An "Attic" Philosopher, Complete
+
+Author: Emile Souvestre
+
+Release Date: October 30, 2004 [EBook #3999]
+Last Updated: August 23, 2016
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+</pre>
+
+    <h1>
+      AN &ldquo;ATTIC&rdquo; PHILOSOPHER
+    </h1>
+    <h3>
+      (Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      By Emile Souvestre
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br />
+    </p>
+    <h3>
+      With a Preface by JOSEPH BERTRAND, of the French Academy
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <blockquote>
+      <p class="toc">
+        <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big>
+      </p>
+      <p>
+        <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> EMILE SOUVESTRE </a><br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2H_4_0002"> <b>AN &ldquo;ATTIC&rdquo; PHILOSOPHER</b> </a><br /><br /><br />
+        <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> <b>BOOK 1.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a>NEW-YEAR&rsquo;S GIFTS <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a>THE CARNIVAL <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a>WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT
+        OF WINDOW <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a>LET US
+        LOVE ONE ANOTHER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a>COMPENSATION
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> <b>BOOK 2.</b> </a> <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a>UNCLE MAURICE <br /><br /> <a
+        href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a>THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH
+        OF FAME <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;</a>MISANTHROPY
+        AND REPENTANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a>THE
+        FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> <b>BOOK 3.</b>
+        </a> <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a>OUR COUNTRY
+        <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a>MORAL USE OF
+        INVENTORIES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a>THE END
+        OF THE YEAR <br /><br />
+      </p>
+    </blockquote>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h2>
+      EMILE SOUVESTRE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      No one succeeds in obtaining a prominent place in literature, or in
+      surrounding himself with a faithful and steady circle of admirers drawn
+      from the fickle masses of the public, unless he possesses originality,
+      constant variety, and a distinct personality. It is quite possible to gain
+      for a moment a few readers by imitating some original feature in another;
+      but these soon vanish and the writer remains alone and forgotten. Others,
+      again, without belonging to any distinct group of authors, having found
+      their standard in themselves, moralists and educators at the same time,
+      have obtained undying recognition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of the latter class, though little known outside of France, is Emile
+      Souvestre, who was born in Morlaix, April 15, 1806, and died at Paris July
+      5, 1854. He was the son of a civil engineer, was educated at the college
+      of Pontivy, and intended to follow his father&rsquo;s career by entering the
+      Polytechnic School. His father, however, died in 1823, and Souvestre
+      matriculated as a law-student at Rennes. But the young student soon
+      devoted himself entirely to literature. His first essay, a tragedy, &lsquo;Le
+      Siege de Missolonghi&rsquo; (1828), was a pronounced failure. Disheartened and
+      disgusted he left Paris and established himself first as a lawyer in
+      Morlaix. Then he became proprietor of a newspaper, and was afterward
+      appointed a professor in Brest and in Mulhouse. In 1836 he contributed to
+      the &lsquo;Revue des Deux Mondes&rsquo; some sketches of life in Brittany, which
+      obtained a brilliant success. Souvestre was soon made editor of La Revue
+      de Paris, and in consequence early found a publisher for his first novel,
+      &lsquo;L&rsquo;Echelle de Femmes&rsquo;, which, as was the case with his second work, Riche
+      et Pauvre&rsquo;, met with a very favorable reception. His reputation was now
+      made, and between this period and his death he gave to France about sixty
+      volumes&mdash;tales, novels, essays, history, and drama.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A double purpose was always very conspicuous in his books: he aspired to
+      the role of a moralist and educator, and was likewise a most impressive
+      painter of the life, character, and morals of the inhabitants of Brittany.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The most significant of his books are perhaps &lsquo;Les Derniers Bretons
+      (1835-1837, 4 vols.), Pierre Landais (1843, 2 vols.), Le Foyer Breton
+      (1844, 2 vols.), Un Philosophe sons les Toits, crowned by the Academy
+      (1850), Confessions d&rsquo;un Ouvrier (1851), Recits et Souvenirs (1853),
+      Souvenirs d&rsquo;un Vieillard (1854); also La Bretagne Pittoresque (1845), and,
+      finally, Causeries Historiques et Litteraires (1854, 2 vols.)&rsquo;. His
+      comedies deserve honorable mention: &lsquo;Henri Hamelin, L&rsquo;Oncle Baptiste
+      (1842), La Parisienne, Le Mousse, etc&rsquo;. In 1848, Souvestre was appointed
+      professor of the newly created school of administration, mostly devoted to
+      popular lectures. He held this post till 1853, lecturing partly in Paris,
+      partly in Switzerland.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His death, when comparatively young, left a distinct gap in the literary
+      world. A life like his could not be extinguished without general sorrow.
+      Although he was unduly modest, and never aspired to the role of a
+      beacon-light in literature, always seeking to remain in obscurity, the
+      works of Emile Souvestre must be placed in the first rank by their
+      morality and by their instructive character. They will always command the
+      entire respect and applause of mankind. And thus it happens that, like
+      many others, he was only fully appreciated after his death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Even those of his &lsquo;confreres&rsquo; who did not seem to esteem him, when alive,
+      suddenly found out that they had experienced a great loss in his demise.
+      They expressed it in emotional panegyrcs; contemporaneous literature
+      discovered that virtue had flown from its bosom, and the French Academy,
+      which had at its proper time crowned his &lsquo;Philosophe sons les Toits&rsquo; as a
+      work contributing supremely to morals, kept his memory green by bestowing
+      on his widow the &ldquo;Prix Lambert,&rdquo; designed for the &ldquo;families of authors who
+      by their integrity, and by the probity of their efforts have well deserved
+      this token from the Republique des Lettres.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+                    JOSEPH BERTRAND
+                  de &lsquo;Academie Francaise.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <h1>
+      AN &ldquo;ATTIC&rdquo; PHILOSOPHER
+    </h1>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 1.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER I. NEW-YEAR&rsquo;S GIFTS
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      January 1st
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      The day of the month came into my mind as soon as I awoke. Another year is
+      separated from the chain of ages, and drops into the gulf of the past! The
+      crowd hasten to welcome her young sister. But while all looks are turned
+      toward the future, mine revert to the past. Everyone smiles upon the new
+      queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time has just wrapped
+      in her winding-sheet. The past year!&mdash;at least I know what she was,
+      and what she has given me; while this one comes surrounded by all the
+      forebodings of the unknown. What does she hide in the clouds that mantle
+      her? Is it the storm or the sunshine? Just now it rains, and I feel my
+      mind as gloomy as the sky. I have a holiday today; but what can one do on
+      a rainy day? I walk up and down my attic out of temper, and I determine to
+      light my fire.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately the matches are bad, the chimney smokes, the wood goes out!
+      I throw down my bellows in disgust, and sink into my old armchair.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In truth, why should I rejoice to see the birth of a new year? All those
+      who are already in the streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces&mdash;do
+      they understand what makes them so gay? Do they even know what is the
+      meaning of this holiday, or whence comes the custom of New-Year&rsquo;s gifts?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here my mind pauses to prove to itself its superiority over that of the
+      vulgar. I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity, and I
+      bring together all the evidence which my knowledge can produce.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (The old Romans divided the year into ten months only; it was Numa
+      Pompilius who added January and February. The former took its name from
+      Janus, to whom it was dedicated. As it opened the new year, they
+      surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of
+      visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year&rsquo;s gifts.
+      The presents given by the Romans were symbolic. They consisted of dry
+      figs, dates, honeycomb, as emblems of &ldquo;the sweetness of the auspices under
+      which the year should begin its course,&rdquo; and a small piece of money called
+      stips, which foreboded riches.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here I close the parenthesis, and return to my ill-humor. The little
+      speech I have just addressed to myself has restored me my
+      self-satisfaction, but made me more dissatisfied with others. I could now
+      enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning&rsquo;s milk, and
+      the pot of preserves is empty! Anyone else would have been vexed: as for
+      me, I affect the most supreme indifference. There remains a hard crust,
+      which I break by main strength, and which I carelessly nibble, as a man
+      far above the vanities of the world and of fresh rolls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, I do not know why my thoughts should grow more gloomy by reason
+      of the difficulties of mastication. I once read the story of an Englishman
+      who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea without sugar.
+      There are hours in life when the most trifling cross takes the form of a
+      calamity. Our tempers are like an opera-glass, which makes the object
+      small or great according to the end you look through.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Usually, the prospect that opens out before my window delights me. It is a
+      mountain-range of roofs, with ridges crossing, interlacing, and piled on
+      one another, and upon which tall chimneys raise their peaks. It was but
+      yesterday that they had an Alpine aspect to me, and I waited for the first
+      snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles and stone
+      flues. The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem no more than
+      miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back yard; the smoke,
+      which rises in light clouds, instead of making me dream of the panting of
+      Vesuvius, reminds me of kitchen preparations and dishwater; and lastly,
+      the telegraph, that I see far off on the old tower of Montmartre, has the
+      effect of a vile gallows stretching its arms over the city.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My eyes, thus hurt by all they meet, fall upon the great man&rsquo;s house which
+      faces my attic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The influence of New-Year&rsquo;s Day is visible there. The servants have an air
+      of eagerness proportioned to the value of their New-Year&rsquo;s gifts, received
+      or expected. I see the master of the house crossing the court with the
+      morose look of a man who is forced to be generous; and the visitors
+      increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers, bandboxes, or toys.
+      Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new carriage, drawn by
+      thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps. They are, without
+      doubt, the New-Year&rsquo;s gift presented to the mistress of the house by her
+      husband; for she comes herself to look at the new equipage. Very soon she
+      gets into it with a little girl, all streaming with laces, feathers and
+      velvets, and loaded with parcels which she goes to distribute as
+      New-Year&rsquo;s gifts. The door is shut, the windows are drawn up, the carriage
+      sets off.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus all the world are exchanging good wishes and presents to-day. I alone
+      have nothing to give or to receive. Poor Solitary! I do not even know one
+      chosen being for whom I might offer a prayer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then let my wishes for a happy New Year go and seek out all my unknown
+      friends&mdash;lost in the multitude which murmurs like the ocean at my
+      feet!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To you first, hermits in cities, for whom death and poverty have created a
+      solitude in the midst of the crowd! unhappy laborers, who are condemned to
+      toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in silence and desertion, and
+      whom God has withdrawn from the intoxicating pangs of love and friendship!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To you, fond dreamers, who pass through life with your eyes turned toward
+      some polar star, while you tread with indifference over the rich harvests
+      of reality!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To you, honest fathers, who lengthen out the evening to maintain your
+      families! to you, poor widows, weeping and working by a cradle! to you,
+      young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large
+      enough to lead through it the wife of your choice! to you, all brave
+      soldiers of work and of self-sacrifice!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To you, lastly, whatever your title and your name, who love good, who pity
+      the suffering; who walk through the world like the symbolical Virgin of
+      Byzantium, with both arms open to the human race!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here I am suddenly interrupted by loud and increasing chirpings. I look
+      about me: my window is surrounded with sparrows picking up the crumbs of
+      bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof. At this
+      sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart. I deceived myself
+      just now, when I complained that I had nothing to give: thanks to me, the
+      sparrows of this part of the town will have their New-Year&rsquo;s gifts!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Twelve o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;A knock at my door; a poor girl comes in, and greets
+      me by name. At first I do not recollect her; but she looks at me, and
+      smiles. Ah! it is Paulette! But it is almost a year since I have seen her,
+      and Paulette is no longer the same: the other day she was a child, now she
+      is almost a young woman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has always the same
+      open and straightforward look&mdash;the same mouth, smiling at every word,
+      as if to court your sympathy&mdash;the same voice, somewhat timid, yet
+      expressing fondness. Paulette is not pretty&mdash;she is even thought
+      plain; as for me, I think her charming. Perhaps that is not on her
+      account, but on my own. Paulette appears to me as one of my happiest
+      recollections.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the evening of a public holiday. Our principal buildings were
+      illuminated with festoons of fire, a thousand flags waved in the night
+      winds, and the fireworks had just shot forth their spouts of flame into
+      the midst of the Champ de Mars. Suddenly, one of those unaccountable
+      alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd: they
+      cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the frightened
+      crowd tramples them down in its convulsive struggles. I escaped from the
+      confusion by a miracle, and was hastening away, when the cries of a
+      perishing child arrested me: I reentered that human chaos, and, after
+      unheard-of exertions, I brought Paulette out of it at the peril of my
+      life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was two years ago: since then I had not seen the child again but at
+      long intervals, and I had almost forgotten her; but Paulette&rsquo;s memory was
+      that of a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year to
+      offer me her wishes for my happiness. She brought me, besides, a
+      wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted and reared it: it was
+      something that belonged wholly to herself; for it was by her care, her
+      perseverance, and her patience, that she had obtained it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette, who is a
+      bandbox-maker, had put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented with
+      arabesques. These might have been in better taste, but I did not feel the
+      attention and good-will the less.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This unexpected present, the little girl&rsquo;s modest blushes, the compliments
+      she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of mist which had
+      gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed from the leaden tints
+      of evening to the brightest colors of dawn. I made Paulette sit down, and
+      questioned her with a light heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon the
+      tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted with short interjections
+      her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a hard life. She was
+      left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister, and lives with an
+      old grandmother, who has &ldquo;brought them up to poverty,&rdquo; as she always calls
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her little sister
+      Perrine begins to use the needle, and her brother Henry is apprentice to a
+      printer. All would go well if it were not for losses and want of work&mdash;if
+      it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which grow larger,
+      and for the winter, when you cannot get sunshine for nothing. Paulette
+      complains that her candles go too quickly, and that her wood costs too
+      much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that a fagot makes no more
+      show in it than a match; it is so near the roof that the wind blows the
+      rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the hearth; so they have left
+      off using it. Henceforth they must be content with an earthen
+      chafing-dish, upon which they cook their meals. The grandmother had often
+      spoken of a stove that was for sale at the broker&rsquo;s close by; but he asked
+      seven francs for it, and the times are too hard for such an expense: the
+      family, therefore, resign themselves to cold for economy!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness
+      and low spirits. The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker created
+      within me a wish that soon became a plan. I questioned her about her daily
+      occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must go, with her
+      brother, her sister, and grandmother, to the different people for whom
+      they work. My plan was immediately settled. I told the child that I would
+      go to see her in the evening, and I sent her away with fresh thanks.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid it
+      welcome; the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and the
+      day, which began so loweringly, had become bright. I sang as I moved about
+      my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-doctor;
+      he will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new. At
+      five o&rsquo;clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette&rsquo;s grandmother&rsquo;s
+      room.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Midnight.&mdash;All has gone off well. At the hour agreed upon, I was at
+      the old bandbox-maker&rsquo;s; she was still out. My Piedmontese
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named &ldquo;Piedmontese&rdquo; or &ldquo;Savoyard,&rdquo;
+    as they usually come from that country.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace,
+      taken from my winter stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself
+      with walking, or by going to bed earlier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My heart beat at every step that was heard on the staircase; I trembled
+      lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil my
+      intended surprise. But no!&mdash;see everything ready: the lighted stove
+      murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of oil
+      for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney-doctor is gone. Now my fear
+      lest they should come is changed into impatience at their not coming. At
+      last I hear children&rsquo;s voices; here they are: they push open the door and
+      rush in&mdash;but they all stop in astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there
+      like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost
+      frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of the
+      grandmother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finishes the
+      explanation. Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the wonders are not yet ended. The little sister opens the oven, and
+      discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on
+      the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the
+      basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
+      rolls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen
+      such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a
+      complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had
+      brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
+      the enjoyment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which
+      waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old woman
+      herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I have always
+      been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness.
+      Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain of every
+      pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich are more
+      difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit before they
+      will consent to be happy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history of
+      her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang an
+      old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of the
+      great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At last we
+      were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of the
+      happy family.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure enjoyment,
+      on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much comfort and much
+      instruction. Now, no New-Year&rsquo;s Day will come amiss to me; I know that no
+      one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and nothing to receive.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As I came in, I met my rich neighbor&rsquo;s new equipage. She, too, had just
+      returned from her evening&rsquo;s party; and, as she sprang from the
+      carriage-step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur &ldquo;At last!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I, when I left Paulette&rsquo;s family, said &ldquo;So soon!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER II. THE CARNIVAL
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      February 20th
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      What a noise out of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts and cries?
+      Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the maskers are
+      passing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian festivals
+      of the pagan times, but it has changed the names. That which it has given
+      to these &ldquo;days of liberty&rdquo; announces the ending of the feasts, and the
+      month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means, literally,
+      &ldquo;farewell to flesh!&rdquo; It is a forty days&rsquo; farewell to the &ldquo;blessed pullets
+      and fat hams,&rdquo; so celebrated by Pantagruel&rsquo;s minstrel. Man prepares for
+      privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to
+      repent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some one of these
+      mad festivals? Must we believe that it requires such an effort for men to
+      be reasonable, that the weaker ones have need of rest at intervals? The
+      monks of La Trappe, who are condemned to silence by their rule, are
+      allowed to speak once in a month, and on this day they all talk at once
+      from the rising to the setting of the sun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Perhaps it is the same in the world. As we are obliged all the year to be
+      decent, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a long restraint
+      during the Carnival. It is a door opened to the incongruous fancies and
+      wishes that have hitherto been crowded back into a corner of our brain.
+      For a moment the slaves become the masters, as in the days of the
+      Saturnalia, and all is given up to the &ldquo;fools of the family.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase&mdash;on
+      foot, in carriages, and on horseback. It is now who can attract the most
+      attention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exciting curiosity or
+      envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to the
+      employments and troubles of yesterday.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alas! thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders; our
+      whole life is often but an unsightly Carnival! And yet man has need of
+      holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart. Can he not
+      have them, then, with these coarse pleasures? Economists have been long
+      inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of the human race. Ah!
+      if I could only discover the best disposal of its leisure! It is easy
+      enough to find it work; but who will find it relaxation? Work supplies the
+      daily bread; but it is cheerfulness that gives it a relish. O
+      philosophers! go in quest of pleasure! find us amusements without
+      brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word, invent a Carnival
+      that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire.
+      As this is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too. So
+      I light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup of
+      the coffee that my portress&rsquo;s son brought from the Levant, and I look in
+      my bookcase for one of my favorite authors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are too
+      fond of talking slang:&mdash;Voltaire; but he disheartens men by always
+      bantering them:&mdash;Moliere; but he hinders one&rsquo;s laughter by making one
+      think:&mdash;Lesage; let us stop at him. Being profound rather than grave,
+      he preaches virtue while ridiculing vice; if bitterness is sometimes to be
+      found in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees the
+      miseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly tricks
+      without hating it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let us call up all the heroes of his book.... Gil Blas, Fabrice, Sangrado,
+      the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio! Ye gay or
+      graceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude; bring hither
+      for my amusement the world-carnival, of which you are the brilliant
+      maskers!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Unfortunately, at the very moment I made this invocation, I recollected I
+      had a letter to write which could not be put off. One of my attic
+      neighbors came yesterday to ask me to do it. He is a cheerful old man, and
+      has a passion for pictures and prints. He comes home almost every day with
+      a drawing or painting&mdash;probably of little value; for I know he lives
+      penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows his
+      poverty. His only son, who was married in England, is just dead, and his
+      widow&mdash;left without any means, and with an old mother and a child&mdash;had
+      written to beg for a home. M. Antoine asked me first to translate the
+      letter, and then to write a refusal. I had promised that he should have
+      this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our promises.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sheet of &ldquo;Bath&rdquo; paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the ink,
+      and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I perceive
+      that I have not my dictionary. Now, a Parisian who would speak English
+      without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings; the ground
+      trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step. I run then to the
+      bookbinder&rsquo;s, where I left my Johnson, who lives close by in the square.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The door is half open; I hear low groans; I enter without knocking, and I
+      see the bookbinder by the bedside of his fellow-lodger. This latter has a
+      violent fever and delirium. Pierre looks at him perplexed and out of
+      humor. I learn from him that his comrade was not able to get up in the
+      morning, and that since then he has become worse every hour.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I ask whether they have sent for a doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, yes, indeed!&rdquo; replied Pierre, roughly; &ldquo;one must have money in one&rsquo;s
+      pocket for that, and this fellow has only debts instead of savings.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But you,&rdquo; said I, rather astonished; &ldquo;are you not his friend?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Friend!&rdquo; interrupted the bookbinder. &ldquo;Yes, as much as the shaft-horse is
+      friend to the leader&mdash;on condition that each will take his share of
+      the draught, and eat his feed by himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I&rsquo;m going to the ball.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You mean to leave him alone?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! must I miss a party of pleasure at Courtville&mdash;[A Parisian
+      summer resort.]&mdash;because this fellow is lightheaded?&rdquo; asked Pierre,
+      sharply. &ldquo;I have promised to meet some friends at old Desnoyer&rsquo;s. Those
+      who are sick may take their broth; my physic is white wine.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      So saying, he untied a bundle, out of which he took the fancy costume of a
+      waterman, and proceeded to dress himself in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In vain I tried to awaken some fellow-feeling for the unfortunate man who
+      lay groaning there close by him; being entirely taken up with the thoughts
+      of his expected pleasure, Pierre would hardly so much as hear me. At last
+      his coarse selfishness provoked me. I began reproaching instead of
+      remonstrating with him, and I declared him responsible for the
+      consequences which such a desertion must bring upon the sick man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this the bookbinder, who was just going, stopped with an oath, and
+      stamped his foot. &ldquo;Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for
+      footbaths, pray?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must not leave your comrade to die without help!&rdquo; I replied.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let him go to the hospital, then!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How can he by himself?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Pierre seemed to make up his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, I&rsquo;m going to take him,&rdquo; resumed he; &ldquo;besides, I shall get rid of
+      him sooner. Come, get up, comrade!&rdquo; He shook his comrade, who had not
+      taken off his clothes. I observed that he was too weak to walk, but the
+      bookbinder would not listen: he made him get up, and half dragged, half
+      supported him to the lodge of the porter, who ran for a hackney carriage.
+      I saw the sick man get into it, almost fainting, with the impatient
+      waterman; and they both set off, one perhaps to die, the other to dine at
+      Courtville Gardens!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Six o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;I have been to knock at my neighbor&rsquo;s door, who opened
+      it himself; and I have given him his letter, finished at last, and
+      directed to his son&rsquo;s widow. M. Antoine thanked me gratefully, and made me
+      sit down.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time I had been into the attic of the old amateur.
+      Curtains stained with damp and hanging down in rags, a cold stove, a bed
+      of straw, two broken chairs, composed all the furniture. At the end of the
+      room were a great number of prints in a heap, and paintings without frames
+      turned against the wall.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the moment I came in, the old man was making his dinner on some hard
+      crusts of bread, which he was soaking in a glass of &lsquo;eau sucree&rsquo;. He
+      perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little
+      ashamed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor,&rdquo; said he, with a
+      smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I replied that at least I thought it a very philosophical one for the
+      Carnival.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Antoine shook his head, and went on again with his supper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every one keeps his holidays in his own way,&rdquo; resumed he, beginning again
+      to dip a crust into his glass. &ldquo;There are several sorts of epicures, and
+      not all feasts are meant to regale the palate; there are some also for the
+      ears and the eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I looked involuntarily round me, as if to seek for the invisible banquet
+      which could make up to him for such a supper.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Without doubt he understood me; for he got up slowly, and, with the
+      magisterial air of a man confident in what he is about to do, he rummaged
+      behind several picture frames, drew forth a painting, over which he passed
+      his hand, and silently placed it under the light of the lamp.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It represented a fine-looking old man, seated at table with his wife, his
+      daughter, and his children, and singing to the accompaniment of musicians
+      who appeared in the background. At first sight I recognized the subject,
+      which I had often admired at the Louvre, and I declared it to be a
+      splendid copy of Jordaens.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A copy!&rdquo; cried M. Antoine; &ldquo;say an original, neighbor, and an original
+      retouched by Rubens! Look closer at the head of the old man, the dress of
+      the young woman, and the accessories. One can count the pencil-strokes of
+      the Hercules of painters. It is not only a masterpiece, sir; it is a
+      treasure&mdash;a relic! The picture at the Louvre may be a pearl, this is
+      a diamond!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light, he
+      fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the
+      wonderful picture. One would have said that the sight of it gave the
+      crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied his
+      glass by little sips. His shrivelled features became smooth, his nostrils
+      expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, &ldquo;a feast for the eyes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see that I also have my treat,&rdquo; he resumed, nodding his head with an
+      air of triumph. &ldquo;Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me, this
+      is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But if this painting is really so precious,&rdquo; replied I, &ldquo;it ought to be
+      worth a high price.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh! eh!&rdquo; said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference. &ldquo;In good
+      times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand
+      francs.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I started back.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have bought it?&rdquo; cried I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For nothing,&rdquo; replied he, lowering his voice. &ldquo;These brokers are asses;
+      mine mistook this for a student&rsquo;s copy; he let me have it for fifty louis,
+      ready money! This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes to be off
+      the bargain.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This morning!&rdquo; repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter
+      containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son&rsquo;s
+      widow, which was still on the little table.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work of
+      Jordaens in an ecstasy.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!&rdquo; he murmured, biting his last crust in
+      delight. &ldquo;What relief! what fire! Where can one find such transparency of
+      color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for
+      admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are dazzled,&rdquo; said he merrily; &ldquo;you did not expect such a treasure!
+      What do you say to the bargain I have made?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Pardon me,&rdquo; replied I, gravely; &ldquo;but I think you might have done better.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Antoine raised his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How!&rdquo; cried he; &ldquo;do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about the
+      merit or value of a painting?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking
+      that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have had&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The family itself, sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old amateur cast a look at me, not of anger, but of contempt. In his
+      eyes I had evidently just proved myself a barbarian, incapable of
+      understanding the arts, and unworthy of enjoying them. He got up without
+      answering me, hastily took up the Jordaens, and replaced it in its
+      hiding-place behind the prints.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a sort of dismissal; I took leave of him, and went away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seven o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;When I come in again, I find my water boiling over my
+      lamp, and I busy myself in grinding my Mocha, and setting out my
+      coffee-things.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The getting coffee ready is the most delicate and most attractive of
+      domestic operations to one who lives alone: it is the grand work of a
+      bachelor&rsquo;s housekeeping.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Coffee is, so to say, just the mid-point between bodily and spiritual
+      nourishment. It acts agreeably, and at the same time, upon the senses and
+      the thoughts. Its very fragrance gives a sort of delightful activity to
+      the wits; it is a genius that lends wings to our fancy, and transports it
+      to the land of the Arabian Nights.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I am buried in my old easy-chair, my feet on the fender before a
+      blazing fire, my ear soothed by the singing of the coffee-pot, which seems
+      to gossip with my fire-irons, the sense of smell gently excited by the
+      aroma of the Arabian bean, and my eyes shaded by my cap pulled down over
+      them, it often seems as if each cloud of the fragrant steam took a
+      distinct form. As in the mirages of the desert, in each as it rises, I see
+      some image of which my mind had been longing for the reality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first the vapor increases, and its color deepens. I see a cottage on a
+      hillside: behind is a garden shut in by a whitethorn hedge, and through
+      the garden runs a brook, on the banks of which I hear the bees humming.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the view opens still more. See those fields planted with apple-trees,
+      in which I can distinguish a plough and horses waiting for their master!
+      Farther on, in a part of the wood which rings with the sound of the axe, I
+      perceive the woodsman&rsquo;s hut, roofed with turf and branches; and, in the
+      midst of all these rural pictures, I seem to see a figure of myself
+      gliding about. It is my ghost walking in my dream!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The bubbling of the water, ready to boil over, compels me to break off my
+      meditations, in order to fill up the coffee-pot. I then remember that I
+      have no cream; I take my tin can off the hook and go down to the
+      milkwoman&rsquo;s.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mother Denis is a hale countrywoman from Savoy, which she left when quite
+      young; and, contrary to the custom of the Savoyards, she has not gone back
+      to it again. She has neither husband nor child, notwithstanding the title
+      they give her; but her kindness, which never sleeps, makes her worthy of
+      the name of mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A brave creature! Left by herself in the battle of life, she makes good
+      her humble place in it by working, singing, helping others, and leaving
+      the rest to God.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the door of the milk-shop I hear loud bursts of laughter. In one of the
+      corners of the shop three children are sitting on the ground. They wear
+      the sooty dress of Savoyard boys, and in their hands they hold large
+      slices of bread and cheese. The youngest is besmeared up to the eyes with
+      his, and that is the reason of their mirth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mother Denis points them out to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!&rdquo; said she, putting
+      her hand on the head of the little glutton.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has had no breakfast,&rdquo; puts in one of the others by way of excuse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor little thing,&rdquo; said the milkwoman; &ldquo;he is left alone in the streets
+      of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?&rdquo; I replied, gently.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What I do is little enough,&rdquo; said Mother Denis, measuring out my milk;
+      &ldquo;but every day I get some of them together out of the street, that for
+      once they may have enough to eat. Dear children! their mothers will make
+      up for it in heaven. Not to mention that they recall my native mountains
+      to me: when they sing and dance, I seem to see our old father again.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here her eyes filled with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?&rdquo;
+       resumed I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes! yes!&rdquo; said she, &ldquo;and by their happiness, too! The laughter of these
+      little ones, sir, is like a bird&rsquo;s song; it makes you gay, and gives you
+      heart to live.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      As she spoke she cut some fresh slices of bread and cheese, and added some
+      apples and a handful of nuts to them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come, my little dears,&rdquo; she cried, &ldquo;put these into your pockets against
+      to-morrow.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, turning to me:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day I am ruining myself,&rdquo; added she; &ldquo;but we must all have our
+      Carnival.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I came away without saying a word: I was too much affected.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last I have discovered what true pleasure is. After beholding the
+      egotism of sensuality and of intellect, I have found the happy
+      self-sacrifice of goodness. Pierre, M. Antoine, and Mother Denis had all
+      kept their Carnival; but for the first two, it was only a feast for the
+      senses or the mind; while for the third, it was a feast for the heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER III. WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      March 3d
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have
+      compared it to a night of fever! What alternate fits of restlessness and
+      sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst!
+      what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies! We can neither sleep nor
+      wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of
+      action. Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the
+      last third in repenting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When I say human existence, I mean my own! We are so made that each of us
+      regards himself as the mirror of the community: what passes in our minds
+      infallibly seems to us a history of the universe. Every man is like the
+      drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself staggering.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And why am I uncertain and restless&mdash;I, a poor day-laborer in the
+      world&mdash;who fill an obscure station in a corner of it, and whose work
+      it avails itself of, without heeding the workman? I will tell you, my
+      unseen friend, for whom these lines are written; my unknown brother, on
+      whom the solitary call in sorrow; my imaginary confidant, to whom all
+      monologues are addressed and who is but the shadow of our own conscience.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A great event has happened in my life! A crossroad has suddenly opened in
+      the middle of the monotonous way along which I was travelling quietly, and
+      without thinking of it. Two roads present themselves, and I must choose
+      between them. One is only the continuation of that I have followed till
+      now; the other is wider, and exhibits wondrous prospects. On the first
+      there is nothing to fear, but also little to hope; on the other are great
+      dangers and great fortune. Briefly, the question is, whether I shall give
+      up the humble office in which I thought to die, for one of those bold
+      speculations in which chance alone is banker! Ever since yesterday I have
+      consulted with myself; I have compared the two and I remain undecided.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Where shall I find light&mdash;who will advise me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sunday, 4th.&mdash;See the sun coming out from the thick fogs of winter!
+      Spring announces its approach; a soft breeze skims over the roofs, and my
+      wallflower begins to blow again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We are near that sweet season of fresh green, of which the poets of the
+      sixteenth century sang with so much feeling:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          Now the gladsome month of May
+          All things newly doth array;
+          Fairest lady, let me too
+          In thy love my life renew.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      The chirping of the sparrows calls me: they claim the crumbs I scatter to
+      them every morning. I open my window, and the prospect of roofs opens out
+      before me in all its splendor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He who has lived only on a first floor has no idea of the picturesque
+      variety of such a view. He has never contemplated these tile-colored
+      heights which intersect each other; he has not followed with his eyes
+      these gutter-valleys, where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens waves,
+      the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes, and the
+      sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to a blaze of fire.
+      He has not studied the flora of these Alps of civilization, carpeted by
+      lichens and mosses; he is not acquainted with the myriad inhabitants that
+      people them, from the microscopic insect to the domestic cat&mdash;that
+      reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl, or in ambush; he has not
+      witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or a cloudy sky; nor the
+      thousand effects of light, that make these upper regions a theatre with
+      ever-changing scenes! How many times have my days of leisure passed away
+      in contemplating this wonderful sight; in discovering its darker or
+      brighter episodes; in seeking, in short, in this unknown world for the
+      impressions of travel that wealthy tourists look for lower!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Nine o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;But why, then, have not my winged neighbors picked up
+      the crumbs I have scattered for them before my window? I see them fly
+      away, come back, perch upon the ledges of the windows, and chirp at the
+      sight of the feast they are usually so ready to devour! It is not my
+      presence that frightens them; I have accustomed them to eat out of my
+      hand. Then, why this fearful suspense? In vain I look around: the roof is
+      clear, the windows near are closed. I crumble the bread that remains from
+      my breakfast to attract them by an ampler feast. Their chirpings increase,
+      they bend down their heads, the boldest approach upon the wing, but
+      without daring to alight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Come, come, my sparrows are the victims of one of the foolish panics which
+      make the funds fall at the Bourse! It is plain that birds are not more
+      reasonable than men!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With this reflection I was about to shut my window, when suddenly I
+      perceived, in a spot of sunshine on my right, the shadow of two pricked-up
+      ears; then a paw advanced, then the head of a tabby-cat showed itself at
+      the corner of the gutter. The cunning fellow was lying there in wait,
+      hoping the crumbs would bring him some game.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And I had accused my guests of cowardice! I was so sure that no danger
+      could menace them! I thought I had looked well everywhere! I had only
+      forgotten the corner behind me!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In life, as on the roofs, how many misfortunes come from having forgotten
+      a single corner!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;I cannot leave my window; the rain and the cold have
+      kept it shut so long that I must reconnoitre all the environs to be able
+      to take possession of them again. My eyes search in succession all the
+      points of the jumbled and confused prospect, passing on or stopping
+      according to what they light upon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! see the windows upon which they formerly loved to rest; they are those
+      of two unknown neighbors, whose different habits they have long remarked.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One is a poor work-woman, who rises before sunrise, and whose profile is
+      shadowed upon her little muslin window-curtain far into the evening; the
+      other is a young songstress, whose vocal flourishes sometimes reach my
+      attic by snatches. When their windows are open, that of the work-woman
+      discovers a humble but decent abode; the other, an elegantly furnished
+      room. But to-day a crowd of tradespeople throng the latter: they take down
+      the silk hangings and carry off the furniture, and I now remember that the
+      young singer passed under my window this morning with her veil down, and
+      walking with the hasty step of one who suffers some inward trouble. Ah! I
+      guess it all. Her means are exhausted in elegant fancies, or have been
+      taken away by some unexpected misfortune, and now she has fallen from
+      luxury to indigence. While the work-woman manages not only to keep her
+      little room, but also to furnish it with decent comfort by her steady
+      toil, that of the singer is become the property of brokers. The one
+      sparkled for a moment on the wave of prosperity; the other sails slowly
+      but safely along the coast of a humble and laborious industry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alas! is there not here a lesson for us all? Is it really in hazardous
+      experiments, at the end of which we shall meet with wealth or ruin, that
+      the wise man should employ his years of strength and freedom? Ought he to
+      consider life as a regular employment which brings its daily wages, or as
+      a game in which the future is determined by a few throws? Why seek the
+      risk of extreme chances? For what end hasten to riches by dangerous roads?
+      Is it really certain that happiness is the prize of brilliant successes,
+      rather than of a wisely accepted poverty? Ah! if men but knew in what a
+      small dwelling joy can live, and how little it costs to furnish it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Twelve o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;I have been walking up and down my attic for a long
+      time, with my arms folded and my eyes on the ground! My doubts increase,
+      like shadows encroaching more and more on some bright space; my fears
+      multiply; and the uncertainty becomes every moment more painful to me! It
+      is necessary for me to decide to-day, and before the evening! I hold the
+      dice of my future fate in my hands, and I dare not throw them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Three o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;The sky has become cloudy, and a cold wind begins to
+      blow from the west; all the windows which were opened to the sunshine of a
+      beautiful day are shut again. Only on the opposite side of the street, the
+      lodger on the last story has not yet left his balcony.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, his gray moustaches,
+      and the ribbon that decorates his buttonhole. Indeed, one might have
+      guessed as much from the care he takes of the little garden which is the
+      ornament of his balcony in mid-air; for there are two things especially
+      loved by all old soldiers&mdash;flowers and children. They have been so
+      long, obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut
+      off from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin
+      life at an age when others end it. The tastes of their early years, which
+      were arrested by the stern duties of war, suddenly break out again with
+      their white hairs, and are like the savings of youth which they spend
+      again in old age. Besides, they have been condemned to be destroyers for
+      so long that perhaps they feel a secret pleasure in creating, and seeing
+      life spring up again: the beauty of weakness has a grace and an attraction
+      the more for those who have been the agents of unbending force; and the
+      watching over the frail germs of life has all the charms of novelty for
+      these old workmen of death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Therefore the cold wind has not driven my neighbor from his balcony. He is
+      digging up the earth in his green boxes, and carefully sowing the seeds of
+      the scarlet nasturtium, convolvulus, and sweet-pea. Henceforth he will
+      come every day to watch for their first sprouting, to protect the young
+      shoots from weeds or insects, to arrange the strings for the tendrils to
+      climb on, and carefully to regulate their supply of water and heat!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How much labor to bring in the desired harvest! For that, how many times
+      shall I see him brave cold or heat, wind or sun, as he does to-day! But
+      then, in the hot summer days, when the blinding dust whirls in clouds
+      through our streets, when the eye, dazzled by the glare of white stucco,
+      knows not where to rest, and the glowing roofs reflect their heat upon us
+      to burning, the old soldier will sit in his arbor and perceive nothing but
+      green leaves and flowers around him, and the breeze will come cool and
+      fresh to him through these perfumed shades. His assiduous care will be
+      rewarded at last.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We must sow the seeds, and tend the growth, if we would enjoy the flower.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Four o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;The clouds that have been gathering in the horizon for
+      a long time are become darker; it thunders loudly, and the rain pours
+      down! Those who are caught in it fly in every direction, some laughing and
+      some crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I always find particular amusement in these helter-skelters, caused by a
+      sudden storm. It seems as if each one, when thus taken by surprise, loses
+      the factitious character that the world or habit has given him, and
+      appears in his true colors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      See, for example, that big man with deliberate step, who suddenly forgets
+      his indifference, made to order, and runs like a schoolboy! He is a
+      thrifty city gentleman, who, with all his fashionable airs, is afraid to
+      spoil his hat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That pretty woman yonder, on the contrary, whose looks are so modest, and
+      whose dress is so elaborate, slackens her pace with the increasing storm.
+      She seems to find pleasure in braving it, and does not think of her velvet
+      cloak spotted by the hail! She is evidently a lioness in sheep&rsquo;s clothing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here, a young man, who was passing, stops to catch some of the hailstones
+      in his hand, and examines them. By his quick and business-like walk just
+      now, you would have taken him for a tax-gatherer on his rounds, when he is
+      a young philosopher, studying the effects of electricity. And those
+      schoolboys who leave their ranks to run after the sudden gusts of a March
+      whirlwind; those girls, just now so demure, but who now fly with bursts of
+      laughter; those national guards, who quit the martial attitude of their
+      days of duty to take refuge under a porch! The storm has caused all these
+      transformations.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      See, it increases! The hardiest are obliged to seek shelter. I see every
+      one rushing toward the shop in front of my window, which a bill announces
+      is to let. It is for the fourth time within a few months. A year ago all
+      the skill of the joiner and the art of the painter were employed in
+      beautifying it, but their works are already destroyed by the leaving of so
+      many tenants; the cornices of the front are disfigured by mud; the
+      arabesques on the doorway are spoiled by bills posted upon them to
+      announce the sale of the effects. The splendid shop has lost some of its
+      embellishments with each change of the tenant. See it now empty, and left
+      open to the passersby. How much does its fate resemble that of so many
+      who, like it, only change their occupation to hasten the faster to ruin!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am struck by this last reflection: since the morning everything seems to
+      speak to me, and with the same warning tone. Everything says: &ldquo;Take care!
+      be content with your happy, though humble lot; happiness can be retained
+      only by constancy; do not forsake your old patrons for the protection of
+      those who are unknown!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Are they the outward objects which speak thus, or does the warning come
+      from within? Is it not I myself who give this language to all that
+      surrounds me? The world is but an instrument, to which we give sound at
+      will. But what does it signify if it teaches us wisdom? The low voice that
+      speaks in our breasts is always a friendly voice, for it tells us what we
+      are, that is to say, what is our capability. Bad conduct results, for the
+      most part, from mistaking our calling. There are so many fools and knaves,
+      because there are so few men who know themselves. The question is not to
+      discover what will suit us, but for what we are suited!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What should I do among these many experienced financial speculators? I am
+      only a poor sparrow, born among the housetops, and should always fear the
+      enemy crouching in the dark corner; I am a prudent workman, and should
+      think of the business of my neighbors who so suddenly disappeared; I am a
+      timid observer, and should call to mind the flowers so slowly raised by
+      the old soldier, or the shop brought to ruin by constant change of
+      masters. Away from me, ye banquets, over which hangs the sword of
+      Damocles! I am a country mouse. Give me my nuts and hollow tree, and I ask
+      nothing besides&mdash;except security.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And why this insatiable craving for riches? Does a man drink more when he
+      drinks from a large glass? Whence comes that universal dread of
+      mediocrity, the fruitful mother of peace and liberty? Ah! there is the
+      evil which, above every other, it should be the aim of both public and
+      private education to anticipate! If that were got rid of, what treasons
+      would be spared, what baseness avoided, what a chain of excess and crime
+      would be forever broken! We award the palm to charity, and to
+      self-sacrifice; but, above all, let us award it to moderation, for it is
+      the great social virtue. Even when it does not create the others, it
+      stands instead of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Six o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;I have written a letter of thanks to the promoters of
+      the new speculation, and have declined their offer! This decision has
+      restored my peace of mind. I stopped singing, like the cobbler, as long as
+      I entertained the hope of riches: it is gone, and happiness is come back!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      O beloved and gentle Poverty! pardon me for having for a moment wished to
+      fly from thee, as I would from Want. Stay here forever with thy charming
+      sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my queens and my
+      instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far from my abode
+      the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow prosperity. Holy
+      Poverty! teach me to endure without complaining, to impart without
+      grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in pleasure, farther off
+      than in power. Thou givest the body strength, thou makest the mind more
+      firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the rich attach themselves
+      as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may cut the cable without
+      awakening all our fears. Continue to sustain me, O thou whom Christ hath
+      called Blessed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IV. LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      April 9th
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their
+      shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets of
+      the flower-girls&mdash;all the world have begun their walks again on the
+      quays and boulevards. After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to
+      breathe the evening air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty. During the day the
+      plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous whiteness;
+      heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge wheels; the
+      eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment from business,
+      cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city altogether has
+      something harsh, restless, and flurried about it. But, as soon as the
+      stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white houses is
+      quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling but that of
+      the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you see only the
+      lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given place to leisure.
+      Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through the business of the
+      day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives to pleasure! See the
+      ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the eating-shops along the walks
+      set out with dainties, and the twinkling lanterns of the newspaper criers.
+      Decidedly Paris has laid aside the pen, the ruler, and the apron; after
+      the day spent in work, it must have the evening for enjoyment; like the
+      masters of Thebes, it has put off all serious matter till tomorrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I love to take part in this happy hour; not to mix in the general gayety,
+      but to contemplate it. If the enjoyments of others embitter jealous minds,
+      they strengthen the humble spirit; they are the beams of sunshine, which
+      open the two beautiful flowers called trust and hope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although alone in the midst of the smiling multitude, I do not feel myself
+      isolated from it, for its gayety is reflected upon me: it is my own kind,
+      my own family, who are enjoying life, and I take a brother&rsquo;s share in
+      their happiness. We are all fellow-soldiers in this earthly battle, and
+      what does it matter on whom the honors of the victory fall? If Fortune
+      passes by without seeing us, and pours her favors on others, let us
+      console ourselves, like the friend of Parmenio, by saying, &ldquo;Those, too,
+      are Alexanders.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While making these reflections, I was going on as chance took me. I
+      crossed from one pavement to another, I retraced my steps, I stopped
+      before the shops or to read the handbills. How many things there are to
+      learn in the streets of Paris! What a museum it is! Unknown fruits,
+      foreign arms, furniture of old times or other lands, animals of all
+      climates, statues of great men, costumes of distant nations! It is the
+      world seen in samples!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let us then look at this people, whose knowledge is gained from the
+      shop-windows and the tradesman&rsquo;s display of goods. Nothing has been taught
+      them, but they have a rude notion of everything. They have seen pineapples
+      at Chevet&rsquo;s, a palm-tree in the Jardin des Plantes, sugar-canes selling on
+      the Pont-Neuf. The Redskins, exhibited in the Valentine Hall, have taught
+      them to mimic the dance of the bison, and to smoke the calumet of peace;
+      they have seen Carter&rsquo;s lions fed; they know the principal national
+      costumes contained in Babin&rsquo;s collection; Goupil&rsquo;s display of prints has
+      placed the tiger-hunts of Africa and the sittings of the English
+      Parliament before their eyes; they have become acquainted with Queen
+      Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, and Kossuth, at the office-door of the
+      Illustrated News. We can certainly instruct them, but not astonish them;
+      for nothing is completely new to them. You may take the Paris ragamuffin
+      through the five quarters of the world, and at every wonder with which you
+      think to surprise him, he will settle the matter with that favorite and
+      conclusive answer of his class&mdash;&ldquo;I know.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But this variety of exhibitions, which makes Paris the fair of the world,
+      does not offer merely a means of instruction to him who walks through it;
+      it is a continual spur for rousing the imagination, a first step of the
+      ladder always set up before us in a vision. When we see them, how many
+      voyages do we take in imagination, what adventures do we dream of, what
+      pictures do we sketch! I never look at that shop near the Chinese baths,
+      with its tapestry hangings of Florida jessamine, and filled with
+      magnolias, without seeing the forest glades of the New World, described by
+      the author of Atala, opening themselves out before me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, when this study of things and this discourse of reason begin to tire
+      you, look around you! What contrasts of figures and faces you see in the
+      crowd! What a vast field for the exercise of meditation! A half-seen
+      glance, or a few words caught as the speaker passes by, open a thousand
+      vistas to your imagination. You wish to comprehend what these imperfect
+      disclosures mean, and, as the antiquary endeavors to decipher the
+      mutilated inscription on some old monument, you build up a history on a
+      gesture or on a word! These are the stirring sports of the mind, which
+      finds in fiction a relief from the wearisome dullness of the actual.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alas! as I was just now passing by the carriage-entrance of a great house,
+      I noticed a sad subject for one of these histories. A man was sitting in
+      the darkest corner, with his head bare, and holding out his hat for the
+      charity of those who passed. His threadbare coat had that look of neatness
+      which marks that destitution has been met by a long struggle. He had
+      carefully buttoned it up to hide the want of a shirt. His face was half
+      hid under his gray hair, and his eyes were closed, as if he wished to
+      escape the sight of his own humiliation, and he remained mute and
+      motionless. Those who passed him took no notice of the beggar, who sat in
+      silence and darkness! They had been so lucky as to escape complaints and
+      importunities, and were glad to turn away their eyes too.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly the great gate turned on its hinges; and a very low carriage,
+      lighted with silver lamps and drawn by two black horses, came slowly out,
+      and took the road toward the Faubourg St. Germain. I could just
+      distinguish, within, the sparkling diamonds and the flowers of a
+      ball-dress; the glare of the lamps passed like a bloody streak over the
+      pale face of the beggar, and showed his look as his eyes opened and
+      followed the rich man&rsquo;s equipage until it disappeared in the night.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I dropped a small piece of money into the hat he was holding out, and
+      passed on quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had just fallen unexpectedly upon the two saddest secrets of the disease
+      which troubles the age we live in: the envious hatred of him who suffers
+      want, and the selfish forgetfulness of him who lives in affluence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All the enjoyment of my walk was gone; I left off looking about me, and
+      retired into my own heart. The animated and moving sight in the streets
+      gave place to inward meditation upon all the painful problems which have
+      been written for the last four thousand years at the bottom of each human
+      struggle, but which are propounded more clearly than ever in our days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I pondered on the uselessness of so many contests, in which defeat and
+      victory only displace each other by turns, and on the mistaken zealots who
+      have repeated from generation to generation the bloody history of Cain and
+      Abel; and, saddened with these mournful reflections, I walked on as chance
+      took me, until the silence all around insensibly drew me out from my own
+      thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live in
+      comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection, delight
+      to find a home. There were no shops along the dimly lighted street; one
+      heard no sounds but of distant carriages, and of the steps of some of the
+      inhabitants returning quietly home.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I instantly recognized the street, though I had been there only once
+      before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That was two years ago. I was walking at the time by the side of the
+      Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of a
+      lake surrounded by a garland of stars; and I had reached the Louvre, when
+      I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet they had gathered
+      round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the cause of his
+      tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries,&rdquo; said a mason, who
+      was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; &ldquo;the servant who
+      took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to wait
+      for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made him
+      more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find his way
+      home.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that he
+      is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval&mdash;there are
+      twelve hundred Duvals in Paris.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should not think, indeed! Don&rsquo;t you see that he is a gentleman&rsquo;s child?
+      He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he does not
+      know what to do by himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the
+      others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We cannot leave him in the street,&rdquo; said some.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The child-stealers would carry him off,&rdquo; continued others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must take him to the overseer.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Or to the police-office.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s the thing. Come, little one!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the names
+      of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the parapet. In
+      vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist the more, and
+      the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a little boy was
+      heard through the confusion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I know him well&mdash;I do,&rdquo; said he, looking at the lost child; &ldquo;he
+      belongs in our part of the town.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What part is it?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards&mdash;Rue des Magasins.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And you have seen him before?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where
+      there is an iron gate with gilt points.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy
+      answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details as
+      left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went up to
+      him as if to put himself under his protection.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you can take him to his parents?&rdquo; asked the mason, who had listened
+      with real interest to the little boy&rsquo;s account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I don&rsquo;t care if I do,&rdquo; replied he; &ldquo;it&rsquo;s the way I&rsquo;m going.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you will take charge of him?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He has only to come with me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pavement, he set off
+      toward the postern-gate of the Louvre.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The lost child followed him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I hope he will take him right,&rdquo; said I, when I saw them go away.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never fear,&rdquo; replied the mason; &ldquo;the little one in the blouse is the same
+      age as the other; but, as the saying is, he knows black from white;&rsquo; 
+      poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The crowd dispersed. For my part, I went toward the Louvre; the thought
+      came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any
+      mistake.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was not long in overtaking them; they were walking side by side,
+      talking, and already quite familiar with each other. The contrast in their
+      dress then struck me. Little Duval wore one of those fanciful children&rsquo;s
+      dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste; his coat was
+      skilfully fitted to his figure, his trousers came down in plaits from his
+      waist to his boots of polished leather with mother-of-pearl buttons, and
+      his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap. The appearance of his guide,
+      on the contrary, was that of the class who dwell on the extreme borders of
+      poverty, but who there maintain their ground with no surrender. His old
+      blouse, patched with pieces of different shades, indicated the
+      perseverance of an industrious mother struggling against the wear and tear
+      of time; his trousers were become too short, and showed his stockings
+      darned over and over again; and it was evident that his shoes were not
+      made for him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countenances of the two children were not less different than their
+      dress. That of the first was delicate and refined; his clear blue eye, his
+      fair skin, and his smiling mouth gave him a charming look of innocence and
+      happiness. The features of the other, on the contrary, had something rough
+      in them; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion dark, his smile less
+      merry than shrewd; all showed a mind sharpened by too early experience; he
+      walked boldly through the middle of the streets thronged by carriages, and
+      followed their countless turnings without hesitation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father,
+      who was then working on the left bank of the Seine; and this responsible
+      duty had made him careful and prudent. He had learned those hard but
+      forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal or supply the place
+      of. Unfortunately, the wants of his poor family had kept him from school,
+      and he seemed to feel the loss; for he often stopped before the
+      printshops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the
+      engravings. In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which the
+      little wanderer seemed to know again. Notwithstanding his fatigue, he
+      hurried on; he was agitated by mixed feelings; at the sight of his house
+      he uttered a cry, and ran toward the iron gate with the gilt points; a
+      lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her arms, and from
+      the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon perceived she was
+      his mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of
+      them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I explained to her in a few words what had happened. She thanked me
+      warmly, and looked round for the little boy who had recognized and brought
+      back her son; but while we were talking, he had disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was for the first time since then that I had come into this part of
+      Paris. Did the mother continue grateful? Had the children met again, and
+      had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that
+      barrier which may mark the different ranks of men, but should not divide
+      them?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed my
+      eyes on the great gate, which I just perceived. Suddenly I saw it open,
+      and two children appeared at the entrance. Although much grown, I
+      recognized them at first sight; they were the child who was found near the
+      parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide. But the dress of the latter
+      was greatly changed: his blouse of gray cloth was neat, and even spruce,
+      and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt; he wore
+      strong shoes, but made for his feet, and had on a new cloth cap. Just at
+      the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch of
+      lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and
+      primroses; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-by.
+      M. Duval&rsquo;s son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner of
+      the street.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting; he
+      looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me if I do not make you a bow,&rdquo; said he, merrily, &ldquo;but I want
+      both my hands for the nosegay Monsieur Charles has given me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are, then, become great friends?&rdquo; said I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! I should think so,&rdquo; said the child; &ldquo;and now my father is rich too!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How&rsquo;s that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Duval lent him some money; he has taken a shop, where he works
+      on his own account; and, as for me, I go to school.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes,&rdquo; replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated
+      his little coat; &ldquo;and I see that you are head-boy!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in
+      the class.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Are you now going to your lessons?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and he has given me some lilacs; for he has a garden where we play
+      together, and where my mother can always have flowers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then it is the same as if it were partly your own.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So it is! Ah! they are good neighbors indeed. But here I am; good-by,
+      sir.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I went on with my walk, still pensive, but with a feeling of relief. If I
+      had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast between affluence and want,
+      here I had found the true union of riches and poverty. Hearty good-will
+      had smoothed down the more rugged inequalities on both sides, and had
+      opened a road of true neighborhood and fellowship between the humble
+      workshop and the stately mansion. Instead of hearkening to the voice of
+      interest, they had both listened to that of self-sacrifice, and there was
+      no place left for contempt or envy. Thus, instead of the beggar in rags,
+      that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man, I had found here
+      the happy child of the laborer loaded with flowers and blessing him! The
+      problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into with no regard but
+      for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER V. COMPENSATION
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      Sunday, May 27th
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Capital cities have one thing peculiar to them: their days of rest seem to
+      be the signal for a general dispersion and flight. Like birds that are
+      just restored to liberty, the people come out of their stone cages, and
+      joyfully fly toward the country. It is who shall find a green hillock for
+      a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather May flowers,
+      they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until the evening, when
+      they return with sprigs of blooming hawthorn in their hats, and their
+      hearts gladdened by pleasant thoughts and recollections of the past day;
+      the next day they return again to their harness and to work.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These rural adventures are most remarkable at Paris. When the fine weather
+      comes, clerks, shop keepers, and workingmen look forward impatiently for
+      the Sunday as the day for trying a few hours of this pastoral life; they
+      walk through six miles of grocers&rsquo; shops and public-houses in the
+      faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real turnip-field. The father of
+      a family begins the practical education of his son by showing him wheat
+      which has not taken the form of a loaf, and cabbage &ldquo;in its wild state.&rdquo;
+       Heaven only knows the encounters, the discoveries, the adventures that are
+      met with! What Parisian has not had his Odyssey in an excursion through
+      the suburbs, and would not be able to write a companion to the famous
+      Travels by Land and by Sea from Paris to St. Cloud?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We do not now speak of that floating population from all parts, for whom
+      our French Babylon is the caravansary of Europe: a phalanx of thinkers,
+      artists, men of business, and travellers, who, like Homer&rsquo;s hero, have
+      arrived in their intellectual country after beholding &ldquo;many peoples and
+      cities;&rdquo; but of the settled Parisian, who keeps his appointed place, and
+      lives on his own floor like the oyster on his rock, a curious vestige of
+      the credulity, the slowness, and the simplicity of bygone ages.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For one of the singularities of Paris is, that it unites twenty
+      populations completely different in character and manners. By the side of
+      the gypsies of commerce and of art, who wander through all the several
+      stages of fortune or fancy, live a quiet race of people with an
+      independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial of
+      a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours. If no
+      other city can show more brilliant and more stirring forms of life, no
+      other contains more obscure and more tranquil ones. Great cities are like
+      the sea: storms agitate only the surface; if you go to the bottom, you
+      find a region inaccessible to the tumult and the noise.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For my part, I have settled on the verge of this region, but do not
+      actually live in it. I am removed from the turmoil of the world, and live
+      in the shelter of solitude, but without being able to disconnect my
+      thoughts from the struggle going on. I follow at a distance all its events
+      of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for how can he
+      who looks on, and knows what passes, do other than take part? Ignorance
+      alone can keep us strangers to the life around us: selfishness itself will
+      not suffice for that.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These reflections I made to myself in my attic, in the intervals of the
+      various household works to which a bachelor is forced when he has no other
+      servant than his own ready will. While I was pursuing my deductions, I had
+      blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and tied my cravat; I had at last
+      arrived at the important moment when we pronounce complacently that all is
+      finished, and that well.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A grand resolve had just decided me to depart from my usual habits. The
+      evening before, I had seen by the advertisements that the next day was a
+      holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would be open to the
+      public. I was tempted by the beauty of the morning, and suddenly decided
+      to go there.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On my arrival at the station on the left bank, I noticed the crowd
+      hurrying on in the fear of being late. Railroads, besides many other
+      advantages, possess that of teaching the French punctuality. They will
+      submit to the clock when they are convinced that it is their master; they
+      will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for. Social
+      virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits. How many great qualities are
+      grafted into nations by their geographical position, by political
+      necessity, and by institutions! Avarice was destroyed for a time among the
+      Lacedaemonians by the creation of an iron coinage, too heavy and too bulky
+      to be conveniently hoarded.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I found myself in a carriage with two middle-aged women belonging to the
+      domestic and retired class of Parisians I have spoken of above. A few
+      civilities were sufficient to gain me their confidence, and after some
+      minutes I was acquainted with their whole history.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They were two poor sisters, left orphans at fifteen, and had lived ever
+      since, as those who work for their livelihood must live, by economy and
+      privation. For the last twenty or thirty years they had worked in jewelry
+      in the same house; they had seen ten masters succeed one another, and make
+      their fortunes in it, without any change in their own lot. They had always
+      lived in the same room, at the end of one of the passages in the Rue St.
+      Denis, where the air and the sun are unknown. They began their work before
+      daylight, went on with it till after nightfall, and saw year succeed to
+      year without their lives being marked by any other events than the Sunday
+      service, a walk, or an illness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The younger of these worthy work-women was forty, and obeyed her sister as
+      she did when a child. The elder looked after her, took care of her, and
+      scolded her with a mother&rsquo;s tenderness. At first it was amusing; afterward
+      one could not help seeing something affecting in these two gray-haired
+      children, one unable to leave off the habit of obeying, the other that of
+      protecting.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And it was not in that alone that my two companions seemed younger than
+      their years; they knew so little that their wonder never ceased. We had
+      hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily exclaimed, like the
+      king in the children&rsquo;s game, that they &ldquo;did not think the world was so
+      great&rdquo;!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was the first time they had trusted themselves on a railroad, and it
+      was amusing to see their sudden shocks, their alarms, and their courageous
+      determinations: everything was a marvel to them! They had remains of youth
+      within them, which made them sensible to things which usually only strike
+      us in childhood. Poor creatures! they had still the feelings of another
+      age, though they had lost its charms.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But was there not something holy in this simplicity, which had been
+      preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life? Ah! accursed be
+      he who first had the bad courage to attach ridicule to that name of &ldquo;old
+      maid,&rdquo; which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of dreariness,
+      and of abandonment! Accursed be he who can find a subject for sarcasm in
+      involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with thorns!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine. This day&rsquo;s journey was
+      a feat of courage without example in their lives. The fever of the times
+      had infected them unawares. Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly proposed the
+      idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it immediately. Perhaps
+      it would have been better not to yield to the great temptation offered by
+      her younger sister; but &ldquo;we have our follies at all ages,&rdquo; as the prudent
+      Frances philosophically remarked. As for Madeleine, there are no regrets
+      or doubts for her; she is the life-guardsman of the establishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We really must amuse ourselves,&rdquo; said she; &ldquo;we live but once.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim. It was evident that
+      the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had interfered
+      with their happiness, it was so frank and genial! The sight of the trees,
+      which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused them unceasing
+      admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary direction, with
+      the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut their eyes and
+      utter a cry; but it had already disappeared! They look around, take
+      courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment at the marvel.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the journey,
+      and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not recollected, with
+      some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their
+      budget. The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the
+      savings of a whole week of work. Thus the joy of the elder of the two
+      sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now and then turned its
+      eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the motion and the succession of objects distract her. See the bridge
+      of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right, Paris with
+      its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle in the sun; on
+      the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and its royal
+      castle! The two work-women look from one window to the other with
+      exclamations of delight. One fellow-passenger laughs at their childish
+      wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the sign of a
+      long and monotonous seclusion: they are the prisoners of work, who have
+      recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the train stops, and we get out. I show the two sisters the path
+      that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go on
+      before, while I inquire about the time of returning.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I soon join them again at the next station, where they have stopped at the
+      little garden belonging to the gatekeeper; both are already in deep
+      conversation with him while he digs his garden-borders, and marks out the
+      places for flower-seeds. He informs them that it is the time for hoeing
+      out weeds, for making grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and for
+      destroying the insects on the rose-trees. Madeleine has on the sill of her
+      window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she has never
+      been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she persuades
+      herself that, thanks to this information, all other plants may henceforth
+      thrive in them. At last the gatekeeper, who is sowing a border with
+      mignonette, gives her the rest of the seeds which he does not want, and
+      the old maid goes off delighted, and begins to act over again the dream of
+      Paired and her can of milk, with these flowers of her imagination.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On reaching the grove of acacias, where the fair was going on, I lost
+      sight of the two sisters. I went alone among the sights: there were
+      lotteries going on, mountebank shows, places for eating and drinking, and
+      for shooting with the cross-bow. I have always been struck by the spirit
+      of these out-of-door festivities. In drawing-room entertainments, people
+      are cold, grave, often listless, and most of those who go there are
+      brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the country
+      assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are attracted by the
+      hope of enjoyment. There, it is a forced conscription; here, they are
+      volunteers for gayety! Then, how easily they are pleased! How far this
+      crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with nothing, and
+      to look down on everything, is the height of fashion and good taste!
+      Doubtless their amusements are often coarse; elegance and refinement are
+      wanting in them; but at least they have heartiness. Oh, that the hearty
+      enjoyments of these merry-makings could be retained in union with less
+      vulgar feeling! Formerly religion stamped its holy character on the
+      celebration of country festivals, and purified the pleasures without
+      depriving them of their simplicity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hour arrives at which the doors of the porcelain manufactory and the
+      museum of pottery are open to the public. I meet Frances and Madeleine
+      again in the first room. Frightened at finding themselves in the midst of
+      such regal magnificence, they hardly dare walk; they speak in a low tone,
+      as if they were in a church.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We are in the king&rsquo;s house,&rdquo; said the eldest sister, forgetting that
+      there is no longer a king in France.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I encourage them to go on; I walk first, and they make up their minds to
+      follow me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What wonders are brought together in this collection! Here we see clay
+      moulded into every shape, tinted with every color, and combined with every
+      sort of substance!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Earth and wood are the first substances worked upon by man, and seem more
+      particularly meant for his use. They, like the domestic animals, are the
+      essential accessories of his life; therefore there must be a more intimate
+      connection between them and us. Stone and metals require long
+      preparations; they resist our first efforts, and belong less to the
+      individual than to communities. Earth and wood are, on the contrary, the
+      principal instruments of the isolated being who must feed and shelter
+      himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This, doubtless, makes me feel so much interested in the collection I am
+      examining. These cups, so roughly modelled by the savage, admit me to a
+      knowledge of some of his habits; these elegant yet incorrectly formed
+      vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence,&mdash;in which
+      still glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; these jars,
+      loaded with arabesques, show the fancy of the Arab rudely and ignorantly
+      copied by the Spaniard! We find here the stamp of every race, every
+      country, and every age.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My companions seemed little interested in these historical associations;
+      they looked at all with that credulous admiration which leaves no room for
+      examination or discussion. Madeleine read the name written under every
+      piece of workmanship, and her sister answered with an exclamation of
+      wonder.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In this way we reached a little courtyard, where they had thrown away the
+      fragments of some broken china.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Frances perceived a colored saucer almost whole, of which she took
+      possession as a record of the visit she was making; henceforth she would
+      have a specimen of the Sevres china, &ldquo;which is only made for kings!&rdquo; I
+      would not undeceive her by telling her that the products of the
+      manufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before it
+      was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for
+      sixpence! Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence? Are
+      we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths? Things are
+      oftenest nothing in themselves; the thoughts we attach to them alone give
+      them value. To rectify innocent mistakes, in order to recover some useless
+      reality, is to be like those learned men who will see nothing in a plant
+      but the chemical elements of which it is composed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      On leaving the manufactory, the two sisters, who had taken possession of
+      me with the freedom of artlessness, invited me to share the luncheon they
+      had brought with them. I declined at first, but they insisted with so much
+      good-nature, that I feared to pain them, and with some awkwardness gave
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We had only to look for a convenient spot. I led them up the hill, and we
+      found a plot of grass enamelled with daisies, and shaded by two
+      walnut-trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeleine could not contain herself for joy. All her life she had dreamed
+      of a dinner out on the grass! While helping her sister to take the
+      provisions from the basket, she tells me of all her expeditions into the
+      country that had been planned, and put off. Frances, on the other hand,
+      was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she had
+      often gone back to her nurse&rsquo;s house. That which had the attraction of
+      novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection. She told of
+      the vintage harvests to which her parents had taken her; the rides on
+      Mother Luret&rsquo;s donkey, that they could not make go to the right without
+      pulling him to the left; the cherry-gathering; and the sails on the lake
+      in the innkeeper&rsquo;s boat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These recollections have all the charm and freshness of childhood. Frances
+      recalls to herself less what she has seen than what she has felt. While
+      she is talking the cloth is laid, and we sit down under a tree. Before us
+      winds the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses abutting upon the
+      gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side spreads out the park
+      of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees interspersed with
+      meadows; above stretch the heavens like an immense ocean, in which the
+      clouds are sailing! I look at this beautiful country, and I listen to
+      these good old maids; I admire, and I am interested; and time passes
+      gently on without my perceiving it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the sun sets, and we have to think of returning. While Madeleine
+      and Frances clear away the dinner, I walk down to the manufactory to ask
+      the hour. The merrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones
+      resound from the band under the acacias. For a few moments I forget myself
+      with looking about; but I have promised the two sisters to take them back
+      to the Bellevue station; the train cannot wait, and I make haste to climb
+      the path again which leads to the walnut-trees.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before I reached them, I heard voices on the other side of the hedge.
+      Madeleine and Frances were speaking to a poor girl whose clothes were
+      burned, her hands blackened, and her face tied up with bloodstained
+      bandages. I saw that she was one of the girls employed at the gunpowder
+      mills, which are built further up on the common. An explosion had taken
+      place a few days before; the girl&rsquo;s mother and elder sister were killed;
+      she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of
+      support. She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of one
+      who has always been accustomed to suffer. The two sisters were much
+      affected; I saw them consulting with each other in a low tone: then
+      Frances took thirty sous out of a little coarse silk purse, which was all
+      they had left, and gave them to the poor girl. I hastened on to that side
+      of the hedge; but, before I reached it, I met the two old sisters, who
+      called out to me that they would not return by the railway, but on foot!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I then understood that the money they had meant for the journey had just
+      been given to the beggar! Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the
+      poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was to pay for my own place, and
+      return to Frances and Madeleine, and tell them I will walk with them.
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+       ..........................
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      I am just come back from taking them home; and have left them delighted
+      with their day, the recollection of which will long make them happy. This
+      morning I was pitying those whose lives are obscure and joyless; now, I
+      understand that God has provided a compensation with every trial. The
+      smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown.
+      Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels no
+      longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves to
+      the other that first of earthly blessings: the being easily made happy.
+      Oh, that I could persuade every one of this! that so the rich might not
+      abuse their riches, and that the poor might have patience. If happiness is
+      the rarest of blessings, it is because the reception of it is the rarest
+      of virtues.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Madeleine and Frances! ye poor old maids whose courage, resignation, and
+      generous hearts are your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give
+      themselves up to despair; for the unhappy who hate and envy; and for the
+      unfeeling into whose enjoyments no pity enters.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 2.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VI. UNCLE MAURICE
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      June 7th, Four O&rsquo;clock A.M.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I am not surprised at hearing, when I awake, the birds singing so joyfully
+      outside my window; it is only by living, as they and I do, in a top story,
+      that one comes to know how cheerful the mornings really are up among the
+      roofs. It is there that the sun sends his first rays, and the breeze comes
+      with the fragrance of the gardens and woods; there that a wandering
+      butterfly sometimes ventures among the flowers of the attic, and that the
+      songs of the industrious work-woman welcome the dawn of day. The lower
+      stories are still deep in sleep, silence, and shadow, while here labor,
+      light, and song already reign.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What life is around me! See the swallow returning from her search for
+      food, with her beak full of insects for her young ones; the sparrows shake
+      the dew from their wings while they chase one another in the sunshine; and
+      my neighbors throw open their windows, and welcome the morning with their
+      fresh faces! Delightful hour of waking, when everything returns to feeling
+      and to motion; when the first light of day strikes upon creation, and
+      brings it to life again, as the magic wand struck the palace of the
+      Sleeping Beauty in the wood! It is a moment of rest from every misery; the
+      sufferings of the sick are allayed, and a breath of hope enters into the
+      hearts of the despairing. But, alas! it is but a short respite! Everything
+      will soon resume its wonted course: the great human machine, with its long
+      strains, its deep gasps, its collisions, and its crashes, will be again
+      put in motion.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The tranquillity of this first morning hour reminds me of that of our
+      first years of life. Then, too, the sun shines brightly, the air is
+      fragrant, and the illusions of youth-those birds of our life&rsquo;s
+      morning-sing around us. Why do they fly away when we are older? Where do
+      this sadness and this solitude, which gradually steal upon us, come from?
+      The course seems to be the same with individuals and with communities: at
+      starting, so readily made happy, so easily enchanted; and at the goal, the
+      bitter disappointment or reality! The road, which began among hawthorns
+      and primroses, ends speedily in deserts or in precipices! Why is there so
+      much confidence at first, so much doubt at last? Has, then, the knowledge
+      of life no other end but to make it unfit for happiness? Must we condemn
+      ourselves to ignorance if we would preserve hope? Is the world and is the
+      individual man intended, after all, to find rest only in an eternal
+      childhood?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How many times have I asked myself these questions! Solitude has the
+      advantage or the danger of making us continually search more deeply into
+      the same ideas. As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give the
+      same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it to the
+      subject which occupies another mind, or interests another&rsquo;s feelings; and
+      so an involuntary inclination makes us return forever to knock at the same
+      doors!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I interrupted my reflections to put my attic in order. I hate the look of
+      disorder, because it shows either a contempt for details or an unaptness
+      for spiritual life. To arrange the things among which we have to live, is
+      to establish the relation of property and of use between them and us: it
+      is to lay the foundation of those habits without which man tends to the
+      savage state. What, in fact, is social organization but a series of
+      habits, settled in accordance with the dispositions of our nature?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I distrust both the intellect and the morality of those people to whom
+      disorder is of no consequence&mdash;who can live at ease in an Augean
+      stable. What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us.
+      The mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spite of everything,
+      still throw some light around. If our tastes did not reveal our character,
+      they would be no longer tastes, but instincts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While I was arranging everything in my attic, my eyes rested on the little
+      almanac hanging over my chimney-piece. I looked for the day of the month,
+      and I saw these words written in large letters: &ldquo;FETE DIEU!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      It is to-day! In this great city, where there are no longer any public
+      religious solemnities, there is nothing to remind us of it; but it is, in
+      truth, the period so happily chosen by the primitive church. &ldquo;The day kept
+      in honor of the Creator,&rdquo; says Chateaubriand, &ldquo;happens at a time when the
+      heaven and the earth declare His power, when the woods and fields are full
+      of new life, and all are united by the happiest ties; there is not a
+      single widowed plant in the fields.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      What recollections these words have just awakened! I left off what I was
+      about, I leaned my elbows on the windowsill, and, with my head between my
+      two hands, I went back in thought to the little town where the first days
+      of my childhood were passed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The &lsquo;Fete Dieu&rsquo; was then one of the great events of my life! It was
+      necessary to be diligent and obedient a long time beforehand, to deserve
+      to share in it. I still recollect with what raptures of expectation I got
+      up on the morning of the day. There was a holy joy in the air. The
+      neighbors, up earlier than usual, hung cloths with flowers or figures,
+      worked in tapestry, along the streets. I went from one to another, by
+      turns admiring religious scenes of the Middle Ages, mythological
+      compositions of the Renaissance, old battles in the style of Louis XIV,
+      and the Arcadias of Madame de Pompadour. All this world of phantoms seemed
+      to be coming forth from the dust of past ages, to assist&mdash;silent and
+      motionless&mdash;at the holy ceremony. I looked, alternately in fear and
+      wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised, those
+      beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow, and
+      those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the feet of
+      the perpetually smiling shepherdess. Sometimes, when the wind blew behind
+      these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures themselves moved,
+      and I watched to see them detach themselves from the wall, and take their
+      places in the procession! But these impressions were vague and transitory.
+      The feeling that predominated over every other was that of an overflowing
+      yet quiet joy. In the midst of all the floating draperies, the scattered
+      flowers, the voices of the maidens, and the gladness which, like a
+      perfume, exhaled from everything, you felt transported in spite of
+      yourself. The joyful sounds of the festival were repeated in your heart,
+      in a thousand melodious echoes. You were more indulgent, more holy, more
+      loving! For God was not only manifesting himself without, but also within
+      us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And then the altars for the occasion! the flowery arbors! the triumphal
+      arches made of green boughs! What competition among the different parishes
+      for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was to halt!
+      It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful of his
+      possessions!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was there I made my first sacrifice!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the
+      Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the whole!
+      All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked. I alone possessed a flower
+      worthy of such a place. It was on the rose-tree given me by my mother on
+      my birthday. I had watched it for several months, and there was no other
+      bud to blow on the tree. There it was, half open, in its mossy nest, the
+      object of such long expectations, and of all a child&rsquo;s pride! I hesitated
+      for some moments. No one had asked me for it; I might easily avoid losing
+      it. I should hear no reproaches, but one rose noiselessly within me. When
+      every one else had given all they had, ought I alone to keep back my
+      treasure? Ought I to grudge to God one of the gifts which, like all the
+      rest, I had received from him? At this last thought I plucked the flower
+      from the stem, and took it to put at the top of the Tabernacle. Ah! why
+      does the recollection of this sacrifice, which was so hard and yet so
+      sweet to me, now make me smile? Is it so certain that the value of a gift
+      is in itself, rather than in the intention? If the cup of cold water in
+      the gospel is remembered to the poor man, why should not the flower be
+      remembered to the child? Let us not look down upon the child&rsquo;s simple act
+      of generosity; it is these which accustom the soul to self-denial and to
+      sympathy. I cherished this moss-rose a long time as a sacred talisman; I
+      had reason to cherish it always, as the record of the first victory won
+      over myself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is now many years since I witnessed the celebration of the &lsquo;Fete Dieu&rsquo;;
+      but should I again feel in it the happy sensations of former days? I still
+      remember how, when the procession had passed, I walked through the streets
+      strewed with flowers and shaded with green boughs. I felt intoxicated by
+      the lingering perfumes of the incense, mixed with the fragrance of
+      syringas, jessamine, and roses, and I seemed no longer to touch the ground
+      as I went along. I smiled at everything; the whole world was Paradise in
+      my eyes, and it seemed to me that God was floating in the air!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Moreover, this feeling was not the excitement of the moment: it might be
+      more intense on certain days, but at the same time it continued through
+      the ordinary course of my life. Many years thus passed for me in an
+      expansion of heart, and a trustfulness which prevented sorrow, if not from
+      coming, at least from staying with me. Sure of not being alone, I soon
+      took heart again, like the child who recovers its courage, because it
+      hears its mother&rsquo;s voice close by. Why have I lost that confidence of my
+      childhood? Shall I never feel again so deeply that God is here?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How strange the association of our thoughts! A day of the month recalls my
+      infancy, and see, all the recollections of my former years are growing up
+      around me! Why was I so happy then? I consider well, and nothing is
+      sensibly changed in my condition. I possess, as I did then, health and my
+      daily bread; the only difference is, that I am now responsible for myself!
+      As a child, I accepted life when it came; another cared and provided for
+      me. So long as I fulfilled my present duties I was at peace within, and I
+      left the future to the prudence of my father! My destiny was a ship, in
+      the directing of which I had no share, and in which I sailed as a common
+      passenger. There was the whole secret of childhood&rsquo;s happy security. Since
+      then worldly wisdom has deprived me of it. When my lot was intrusted to my
+      own and sole keeping, I thought to make myself master of it by means of a
+      long insight into the future. I have filled the present hour with
+      anxieties, by occupying my thoughts with the future; I have put my
+      judgment in the place of Providence, and the happy child is changed into
+      the anxious man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A melancholy course, yet perhaps an important lesson. Who knows that, if I
+      had trusted more to Him who rules the world, I should not have been spared
+      all this anxiety? It may be that happiness is not possible here below,
+      except on condition of living like a child, giving ourselves up to the
+      duties of each day as it comes, and trusting in the goodness of our
+      heavenly Father for all besides.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This reminds me of my Uncle Maurice! Whenever I have need to strengthen
+      myself in all that is good, I turn my thoughts to him; I see again the
+      gentle expression of his half-smiling, half-mournful face; I hear his
+      voice, always soft and soothing as a breath of summer! The remembrance of
+      him protects my life, and gives it light. He, too, was a saint and martyr
+      here below. Others have pointed out the path of heaven; he has taught us
+      to see those of earth aright.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, except the angels, who are charged with noting down the sacrifices
+      performed in secret, and the virtues which are never known, who has ever
+      heard of my Uncle Maurice? Perhaps I alone remember his name, and still
+      recall his history.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well! I will write it, not for others, but for myself! They say that, at
+      the sight of the Apollo, the body erects itself and assumes a more
+      dignified attitude: in the same way, the soul should feel itself raised
+      and ennobled by the recollection of a good man&rsquo;s life!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A ray of the rising sun lights up the little table on which I write; the
+      breeze brings me in the scent of the mignonette, and the swallows wheel
+      about my window with joyful twitterings. The image of my Uncle Maurice
+      will be in its proper place amid the songs, the sunshine, and the
+      fragrance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Seven o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;It is with men&rsquo;s lives as with days: some dawn
+      radiant with a thousand colors, others dark with gloomy clouds. That of my
+      Uncle Maurice was one of the latter. He was so sickly, when he came into
+      the world, that they thought he must die; but notwithstanding these
+      anticipations, which might be called hopes, he continued to live,
+      suffering and deformed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was deprived of all joys as well as of all the attractions of
+      childhood. He was oppressed because he was weak, and laughed at for his
+      deformity. In vain the little hunchback opened his arms to the world: the
+      world scoffed at him, and went its way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      However, he still had his mother, and it was to her that the child
+      directed all the feelings of a heart repelled by others. With her he found
+      shelter, and was happy, till he reached the age when a man must take his
+      place in life; and Maurice had to content himself with that which others
+      had refused with contempt. His education would have qualified him for any
+      course of life; and he became an octroi-clerk&mdash;[The octroi is the tax
+      on provisions levied at the entrance of the town]&mdash;in one of the
+      little toll-houses at the entrance of his native town.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was always shut up in this dwelling of a few feet square, with no
+      relaxation from the office accounts but reading and his mother&rsquo;s visits.
+      On fine summer days she came to work at the door of his hut, under the
+      shade of a clematis planted by Maurice. And, even when she was silent, her
+      presence was a pleasant change for the hunchback; he heard the clinking of
+      her long knitting-needles; he saw her mild and mournful profile, which
+      reminded him of so many courageously-borne trials; he could every now and
+      then rest his hand affectionately on that bowed neck, and exchange a smile
+      with her!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This comfort was soon to be taken from him. His old mother fell sick, and
+      at the end of a few days he had to give up all hope. Maurice was overcome
+      at the idea of a separation which would henceforth leave him alone on
+      earth, and abandoned himself to boundless grief. He knelt by the bedside
+      of the dying woman, he called her by the fondest names, he pressed her in
+      his arms, as if he could so keep her in life. His mother tried to return
+      his caresses, and to answer him; but her hands were cold, her voice was
+      already gone. She could only press her lips against the forehead of her
+      son, heave a sigh, and close her eyes forever!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They tried to take Maurice away, but he resisted them and threw himself on
+      that now motionless form.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Dead!&rdquo; cried he; &ldquo;dead! She who had never left me, she who was the only
+      one in the world who loved me! You, my mother, dead! What then remains for
+      me here below?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      A stifled voice replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;God!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maurice, startled, raised himself! Was that a last sigh from the dead, or
+      his own conscience, that had answered him? He did not seek to know, but he
+      understood the answer, and accepted it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was then that I first knew him. I often went to see him in his little
+      toll-house. He joined in my childish games, told me his finest stories,
+      and let me gather his flowers. Deprived as he was of all external
+      attractiveness, he showed himself full of kindness to all who came to him,
+      and, though he never would put himself forward, he had a welcome for
+      everyone. Deserted, despised, he submitted to everything with a gentle
+      patience; and while he was thus stretched on the cross of life, amid the
+      insults of his executioners, he repeated with Christ, &ldquo;Father, forgive
+      them, for they know not what they do.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      No other clerk showed so much honesty, zeal, and intelligence; but those
+      who otherwise might have promoted him as his services deserved were
+      repelled by his deformity. As he had no patrons, he found his claims were
+      always disregarded. They preferred before him those who were better able
+      to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor when
+      letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live. Uncle
+      Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by men,
+      he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who cannot be
+      deceived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor
+      but not as forlorn as he, also lodged. Among these neighbors there was a
+      single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came
+      both wind and rain. She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing
+      to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it. She was
+      never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret.
+      She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom
+      seemed to envelop her like a shroud. Her dejection affected Maurice; he
+      attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words. It was
+      easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the little
+      hunchback&rsquo;s good-will; he perceived it, and said no more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But Toinette&rsquo;s needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and presently
+      work failed her! Maurice learned that the poor girl was in want of
+      everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit. He
+      immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what they
+      supplied Toinette with.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Things went on in this way for several months. The young dressmaker
+      continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills she
+      had contracted with the shopkeepers. When she came to an explanation with
+      them, everything was discovered. Her first impulse was to run to Uncle
+      Maurice, and thank him on her knees. Her habitual reserve had given way to
+      a burst of deepest feeling. It seemed as if gratitude had melted all the
+      ice of that numbed heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Being now no longer embarrassed with a secret, the little hunchback could
+      give greater efficacy to his good offices. Toinette became to him a
+      sister, for whose wants he had a right to provide. It was the first time
+      since the death of his mother that he had been able to share his life with
+      another. The young woman received his attentions with feeling, but with
+      reserve. All Maurice&rsquo;s efforts were insufficient to dispel her gloom: she
+      seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her sense of it
+      with warmth; but there she stopped. Her heart was a closed book, which the
+      little hunchback might bend over, but could not read. In truth he cared
+      little to do so; he gave himself up to the happiness of being no longer
+      alone, and took Toinette such as her long trials had made her; he loved
+      her as she was, and wished for nothing else but still to enjoy her
+      company.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This thought insensibly took possession of his mind, to the exclusion of
+      all besides. The poor girl was as forlorn as himself; she had become
+      accustomed to the deformity of the hunchback, and she seemed to look on
+      him with an affectionate sympathy! What more could he wish for? Until
+      then, the hopes of making himself acceptable to a helpmate had been
+      repelled by Maurice as a dream; but chance seemed willing to make it a
+      reality. After much hesitation he took courage, and decided to speak to
+      her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was evening; the little hunchback, in much agitation, directed his
+      steps toward the work-woman&rsquo;s garret just as he was about to enter, he
+      thought he heard a strange voice pronouncing the maiden&rsquo;s name. He quickly
+      pushed open the door, and perceived Toinette weeping, and leaning on the
+      shoulder of a young man in the dress of a sailor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to him,
+      crying out:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! come in&mdash;come in! It is he that I thought was dead: it is
+      Julien; it is my betrothed!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Maurice tottered, and drew back. A single word had told him all!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It seemed to him as if the ground shook and his heart was about to break;
+      but the same voice that he had heard by his mother&rsquo;s deathbed again
+      sounded in his ears, and he soon recovered himself. God was still his
+      friend!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He himself accompanied the newly-married pair on the road when they left
+      the town, and, after wishing them all the happiness which was denied to
+      him, he returned with resignation to the old house in the suburb.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was there that he ended his life, forsaken by men, but not as he said
+      by the Father which is in heaven. He felt His presence everywhere; it was
+      to him in the place of all else. When he died, it was with a smile, and
+      like an exile setting out for his own country. He who had consoled him in
+      poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and forsaken
+      by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eight o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;All I have just written has pained me! Till now I
+      have looked into life for instruction how to live. Is it then true that
+      human maxims are not always sufficient? that beyond goodness, prudence,
+      moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth,
+      which alone can face great misfortunes? and that, if man has need of
+      virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture
+      expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy, and
+      beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every storm in
+      spite of the gods. But later in life, when the back is bowed, when
+      happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow chill-then, in
+      fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our arms, like the child
+      overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who is everywhere.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society and
+      for the individual? In vain does human reason from hour to hour light some
+      new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever darker! Is it
+      not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther from God, the
+      Sun of spirits?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what do these hermit&rsquo;s reveries signify to the world? The inward
+      turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give
+      them time to question themselves. Have they time to know what they are,
+      and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or the
+      last price of stock? Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at the
+      earth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But I&mdash;poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power
+      nor riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter of
+      my spirit&mdash;I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my
+      childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of God
+      with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VII. THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      Sunday, July 1st
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans ended.
+      To-day we enter on July.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth),
+      because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in
+      March. When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name of
+      Quintiles was preserved, as well as those that followed&mdash;Sexteles,
+      September, October, November, December&mdash;although these designations
+      did not accord with the newly arranged order of the months. At last, after
+      a time the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was called
+      Julius, whence we have July. Thus this name, placed in the calendar, is
+      become the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaph
+      on Time&rsquo;s highway, engraved by the admiration of man.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How many similar inscriptions are there! Seas, continents, mountains,
+      stars, and monuments, have all in succession served the same purpose! We
+      have turned the whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which the
+      state of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great deeds.
+      It seems that mankind feels a necessity for honoring itself in its elect
+      ones, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing heroes from
+      among its own race. The human family love to preserve the memory; of the
+      parvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great ancestor, or of a
+      benefactor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact, the talents granted to a single individual do not benefit himself
+      alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, for everyone
+      suffers or benefits by his actions. Genius is a lighthouse, meant to give
+      light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock upon which this
+      lighthouse is built.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I love to dwell upon these thoughts; they explain to me in what consists
+      our admiration for glory. When glory has benefited men, that admiration is
+      gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride of race;
+      as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples of humanity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Who knows whether we do not obey the same instinct in submitting to the
+      hand of power? Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, or the
+      consequences of a conquest, the multitude delight to surround their chiefs
+      with privileges&mdash;whether it be that their vanity makes them thus to
+      aggrandize one of their own creations, or whether they try to conceal the
+      humiliation of subjection by exaggerating the importance of those who rule
+      them. They wish to honor themselves through their master; they elevate him
+      on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him with a halo of
+      light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon themselves. It is
+      still the fable of the dog who contents himself with the chain and collar,
+      so that they are of gold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This servile vanity is not less natural or less common than the vanity of
+      dominion. Whoever feels himself incapable of command, at least desires to
+      obey a powerful chief. Serfs have been known to consider themselves
+      dishonored when they became the property of a mere count after having been
+      that of a prince, and Saint-Simon mentions a valet who would only wait
+      upon marquises.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      July 7th, seven o&rsquo;clock P. M.&mdash;I have just now been up the
+      Boulevards; it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in
+      the Rue Lepelletier. The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossing
+      recognized the persons in some of these as we went by, and mentioned their
+      names; they were those of celebrated or powerful men, the successful ones
+      of the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes,
+      whose thin black coat was threadbare. He followed with envious looks these
+      possessors of the privileges of power or of fame, and I read on his lips,
+      which curled with a bitter smile, all that passed in his mind.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Look at them, the lucky fellows!&rdquo; thought he; &ldquo;all the pleasures of
+      wealth, all the enjoyments of pride, are theirs. Their names are renowned,
+      all their wishes fulfilled; they are the sovereigns of the world, either
+      by their intellect or their power; and while I, poor and unknown, toil
+      painfully along the road below, they wing their way over the mountain-tops
+      gilded by the broad sunshine of prosperity.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I have come home in deep thought. Is it true that there are these
+      inequalities, I do not say in the fortunes, but in the happiness of men?
+      Do genius and authority really wear life as a crown, while the greater
+      part of mankind receive it as a yoke? Is the difference of rank but a
+      different use of men&rsquo;s dispositions and talents, or a real inequality in
+      their destinies? A solemn question, as it regards the verification of
+      God&rsquo;s impartiality.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      July 8th, noon.&mdash;I went this morning to call upon a friend from the
+      same province as myself, who is the first usher-in-waiting to one of our
+      ministers. I took him some letters from his family, left for him by a
+      traveller just come from Brittany. He wished me to stay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To-day,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;the Minister gives no audience: he takes a day of rest
+      with his family. His younger sisters are arrived; he will take them this
+      morning to St. Cloud, and in the evening he has invited his friends to a
+      private ball. I shall be dismissed directly for the rest of the day. We
+      can dine together; read the news while you are waiting for me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I sat down at a table covered with newspapers, all of which I looked over
+      by turns. Most of them contained severe criticisms on the last political
+      acts of the minister; some of them added suspicions as to the honor of the
+      minister himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just as I had finished reading, a secretary came for them to take them to
+      his master.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was then about to read these accusations, to suffer silently the abuse
+      of all those tongues which were holding him up to indignation or to scorn!
+      Like the Roman victor in his triumph, he had to endure the insults of him
+      who followed his car, relating to the crowd his follies, his ignorance, or
+      his vices.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, among the arrows shot at him from every side, would no one be found
+      poisoned? Would not one reach some spot in his heart where the wound would
+      be incurable? What is the worth of a life exposed to the attacks of
+      envious hatred or furious conviction? The Christians yielded only the
+      fragments of their flesh to the beasts of the amphitheatres; the man in
+      power gives up his peace, his affections, his honor, to the cruel bites of
+      the pen.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While I was musing upon these dangers of greatness, the usher entered
+      hastily. Important news had been received: the minister is just summoned
+      to the council; he will not be able to take his sisters to St. Cloud.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I saw, through the windows, the young ladies, who were waiting at the
+      door, sorrowfully go upstairs again, while their brother went off to the
+      council. The carriage, which should have gone filled with so much family
+      happiness, is just out of sight, carrying only the cares of a statesman in
+      it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The usher came back discontented and disappointed. The more or less of
+      liberty which he is allowed to enjoy, is his barometer of the political
+      atmosphere. If he gets leave, all goes well; if he is kept at his post,
+      the country is in danger. His opinion on public affairs is but a
+      calculation of his own interest. My friend is almost a statesman.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had some conversation with him, and he told me several curious
+      particulars of public life.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The new minister has old friends whose opinions he opposes, though he
+      still retains his personal regard for them. Though separated from them by
+      the colors he fights under, they remain united by old associations; but
+      the exigencies of party forbid him to meet them. If their intercourse
+      continued, it would awaken suspicion; people would imagine that some
+      dishonorable bargain was going on; his friends would be held to be
+      traitors desirous to sell themselves, and he the corrupt minister prepared
+      to buy them. He has, therefore, been obliged to break off friendships of
+      twenty years&rsquo; standing, and to sacrifice attachments which had become a
+      second nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes, however, the minister still gives way to his old feelings; he
+      receives or visits his friends privately; he shuts himself up with them,
+      and talks of the times when they could be open friends. By dint of
+      precautions they have hitherto succeeded in concealing this blot of
+      friendship against policy; but sooner or later the newspapers will be
+      informed of it, and will denounce him to the country as an object of
+      distrust.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For whether hatred be honest or dishonest, it never shrinks from any
+      accusation. Sometimes it even proceeds to crime. The usher assured me that
+      several warnings had been given the minister which had made him fear the
+      vengeance of an assassin, and that he no longer ventured out on foot.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Then, from one thing to another, I learned what temptations came in to
+      mislead or overcome his judgment; how he found himself fatally led into
+      obliquities which he could not but deplore. Misled by passion,
+      over-persuaded by entreaties, or compelled for reputation&rsquo;s sake, he has
+      many times held the balance with an unsteady hand. How sad the condition
+      of him who is in authority! Not only are the miseries of power imposed
+      upon him, but its vices also, which, not content with torturing, succeed
+      in corrupting him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We prolonged our conversation till it was interrupted by the minister&rsquo;s
+      return. He threw himself out of the carriage with a handful of papers, and
+      with an anxious manner went into his own room. An instant afterward his
+      bell was heard; his secretary was called to send off notices to all those
+      invited for the evening; the ball would not take place; they spoke
+      mysteriously of bad news transmitted by the telegraph, and in such
+      circumstances an entertainment would seem to insult the public sorrow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I took leave of my friend, and here I am at home. What I have just seen is
+      an answer to my doubts the other day. Now I know with what pangs men pay
+      for their dignities; now I understand
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     That Fortune sells what we believe she gives.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      This explains to me the reason why Charles V. aspired to the repose of the
+      cloister.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power.
+      What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated
+      from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth? of that path
+      of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their
+      responsibility? of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses
+      every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies. If
+      men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep him
+      separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a continual
+      worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him the superhuman
+      part they have granted him. Our masters cannot remain absolute, except on
+      condition of being treated as idols.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they must
+      lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to
+      themselves. Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to
+      regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; &ldquo;so that,&rdquo; says
+      Voltaire, &ldquo;by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of Spain
+      have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment.&rdquo; It was by
+      this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such an excess
+      of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of Uzeda, who alone
+      had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber, happened to be
+      absent.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she was
+      about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette forbade
+      them to touch the queen. Two young officers endangered their lives for her
+      by stopping the horse. The prayers and tears of her whom they had just
+      snatched from death were necessary to obtain pardon for their crime. Every
+      one knows the anecdote related by Madame Campan of Marie Antoinette, wife
+      of Louis XVI. One day, being at her toilet, when the chemise was about to
+      be presented to her by one of the assistants, a lady of very ancient
+      family entered and claimed the honor, as she had the right by etiquette;
+      but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her duty, a lady of higher rank
+      appeared, and in her turn took the garment she was about to offer to the
+      queen; when a third lady of still higher title came in her turn, and was
+      followed by a fourth, who was no other than the king&rsquo;s sister. The chemise
+      was in this manner passed from hand to hand, with ceremonies, courtesies,
+      and compliments, before it came to the queen, who, half naked and quite
+      ashamed, was shivering with cold for the great honor of etiquette.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      12th, seven o&rsquo;clock, P.M.&mdash;On coming home this evening, I saw,
+      standing at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features
+      reminded me of my father. There was the same beautiful smile, the same
+      deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the same
+      careless attitude.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to
+      myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given me,
+      and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by
+      an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared everything
+      that had the appearance of a lesson. He used to say that virtue could make
+      herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils: therefore he was not
+      desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself with sowing the seeds of
+      it, certain that experience would make them grow.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and, when
+      it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and come into
+      ear! It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and we do not
+      know its value till we find ourselves in need of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings, there
+      is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time is come
+      to derive its lesson from it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those
+      trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all
+      creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led a
+      life of poverty and labor. Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns
+      shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work of a
+      trade of which his master reaped all the profits. In truth, this latter
+      had a peculiar talent for making the most of the labor of other people.
+      Though unfit himself for the execution of any kind of work, no one knew
+      better how to sell it. His words were a net, in which people found
+      themselves taken before they were aware. And since he was devoted to
+      himself alone, and looked on the producer as his enemy, and the buyer as
+      prey, he used them both with that obstinate perseverance which avarice
+      teaches.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My father was a slave all the week, and could call himself his own only on
+      Sunday. The master naturalist, who used to spend the day at the house of
+      an old female relative, then gave him his liberty on condition that he
+      dined out, and at his own expense. But my father used secretly to take
+      with him a crust of bread, which he hid in his botanizing-box, and,
+      leaving Paris as soon as it was day, he would wander far into the valley
+      of Montmorency, the wood of Meudon, or among the windings of the Marne.
+      Excited by the fresh air, the penetrating perfume of the growing
+      vegetation, or the fragrance of the honeysuckles, he would walk on until
+      hunger or fatigue made itself felt. Then he would sit under a hedge, or by
+      the side of a stream, and would make a rustic feast, by turns on
+      watercresses, wood strawberries, and blackberries picked from the hedges;
+      he would gather a few plants, read a few pages of Florian, then in
+      greatest vogue, of Gessner, who was just translated, or of Jean Jacques,
+      of whom he possessed three old volumes. The day was thus passed
+      alternately in activity and rest, in pursuit and meditation, until the
+      declining sun warned him to take again the road to Paris, where he would
+      arrive, his feet torn and dusty, but his mind invigorated for a whole
+      week.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One day, as he was going toward the wood of Viroflay, he met, close to it,
+      a stranger who was occupied in botanizing and in sorting the plants he had
+      just gathered. He was an elderly man with an honest face; but his eyes,
+      which were rather deep-set under his eyebrows, had a somewhat uneasy and
+      timid expression. He was dressed in a brown cloth coat, a gray waistcoat,
+      black breeches, and worsted stockings, and held an ivory-headed cane under
+      his arm. His appearance was that of a small retired tradesman who was
+      living on his means, and rather below the golden mean of Horace.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My father, who had great respect for age, civilly raised his hat to him as
+      he passed. In doing so, a plant he held fell from his hand; the stranger
+      stooped to take it up, and recognized it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It is a Deutaria heptaphyllos,&rdquo; said he; &ldquo;I have not yet seen any of them
+      in these woods; did you find it near here, sir?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      My father replied that it was to be found in abundance on the top of the
+      hill, toward Sevres, as well as the great Laserpitium.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That, too!&rdquo; repeated the old man more briskly. &ldquo;Ah! I shall go and look
+      for them; I have gathered them formerly on the hillside of Robaila.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      My father proposed to take him. The stranger accepted his proposal with
+      thanks, and hastened to collect together the plants he had gathered; but
+      all of a sudden he appeared seized with a scruple. He observed to his
+      companion that the road he was going was halfway up the hill, and led in
+      the direction of the castle of the Dames Royales at Bellevue; that by
+      going to the top he would consequently turn out of his road, and that it
+      was not right he should take this trouble for a stranger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My father insisted upon it with his habitual good-nature; but, the more
+      eagerness he showed, the more obstinately the old man refused; it even
+      seemed to my father that his good intention at last excited his suspicion.
+      He therefore contented himself with pointing out the road to the stranger,
+      whom he saluted, and he soon lost sight of him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Many hours passed by, and he thought no more of the meeting. He had
+      reached the copses of Chaville, where, stretched on the ground in a mossy
+      glade, he read once more the last volume of Emile. The delight of reading
+      it had so completely absorbed him that he had ceased to see or hear
+      anything around him. With his cheeks flushed and his eyes moist, he
+      repeated aloud a passage which had particularly affected him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An exclamation uttered close by him awoke him from his ecstasy; he raised
+      his head, and perceived the tradesman-looking person he had met before on
+      the crossroad at Viroflay.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He was loaded with plants, the collection of which seemed to have put him
+      into high good-humor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A thousand thanks, sir,&rdquo; said he to my father. &ldquo;I have found all that you
+      told me of, and I am indebted to you for a charming walk.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      My father respectfully rose, and made a civil reply. The stranger had
+      grown quite familiar, and even asked if his young &ldquo;brother botanist&rdquo; did
+      not think of returning to Paris. My father replied in the affirmative, and
+      opened his tin box to put his book back in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger asked him with a smile if he might without impertinence ask
+      the name of it. My father answered that it was Rousseau&rsquo;s Emile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The stranger immediately became grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They walked for some time side by side, my father expressing, with the
+      warmth of a heart still throbbing with emotion, all that this work had
+      made him feel; his companion remaining cold and silent. The former
+      extolled the glory of the great Genevese writer, whose genius had made him
+      a citizen of the world; he expatiated on this privilege of great thinkers,
+      who reign in spite of time and space, and gather together a people of
+      willing subjects out of all nations; but the stranger suddenly interrupted
+      him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how do you know,&rdquo; said he, mildly, &ldquo;whether Jean Jacques would not
+      exchange the reputation which you seem to envy for the life of one of the
+      wood-cutters whose chimneys&rsquo; smoke we see? What has fame brought him
+      except persecution? The unknown friends whom his books may have made for
+      him content themselves with blessing him in their hearts, while the
+      declared enemies that they have drawn upon him pursue him with violence
+      and calumny! His pride has been flattered by success: how many times has
+      it been wounded by satire? And be assured that human pride is like the
+      Sybarite who was prevented from sleeping by a crease in a roseleaf. The
+      activity of a vigorous mind, by which the world profits, almost always
+      turns against him who possesses it. He expects more from it as he grows
+      older; the ideal he pursues continually disgusts him with the actual; he
+      is like a man who, with a too-refined sight, discerns spots and blemishes
+      in the most beautiful face. I will not speak of stronger temptations and
+      of deeper downfalls. Genius, you have said, is a kingdom; but what
+      virtuous man is not afraid of being a king? He who feels only his great
+      powers, is&mdash;with the weaknesses and passions of our nature&mdash;preparing
+      for great failures. Believe me, sir, the unhappy man who wrote this book
+      is no object of admiration or of envy; but, if you have a feeling heart,
+      pity him!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      My father, astonished at the excitement with which his companion
+      pronounced these last words, did not know what to answer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just then they reached the paved road which led from Meudon Castle to that
+      of Versailles; a carriage was passing.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The ladies who were in it perceived the old man, uttered an exclamation of
+      surprise, and leaning out of the window repeated:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There is Jean Jacques&mdash;there is Rousseau!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Then the carriage disappeared in the distance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My father remained motionless, confounded, and amazed, his eyes wide open,
+      and his hands clasped.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Rousseau, who had shuddered on hearing his name spoken, turned toward him:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said he, with the bitter misanthropy which his later
+      misfortunes had produced in him, &ldquo;Jean Jacques cannot even hide himself:
+      he is an object of curiosity to some, of malignity to others, and to all
+      he is a public thing, at which they point the finger. It would signify
+      less if he had only to submit to the impertinence of the idle; but, as
+      soon as a man has had the misfortune to make himself a name, he becomes
+      public property. Every one rakes into his life, relates his most trivial
+      actions, and insults his feelings; he becomes like those walls, which
+      every passer-by may deface with some abusive writing. Perhaps you will say
+      that I have myself encouraged this curiosity by publishing my Confessions.
+      But the world forced me to it. They looked into my house through the
+      blinds, and they slandered me; I have opened the doors and windows, so
+      that they should at least know me such as I am. Adieu, sir. Whenever you
+      wish to know the worth of fame, remember that you have seen Rousseau.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Nine o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;Ah! now I understand my father&rsquo;s story! It contains
+      the answer to one of the questions I asked myself a week ago. Yes, I now
+      feel that fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought; and that, when
+      they dazzle the soul, both are oftenest, as Madame de Stael says, but &lsquo;un
+      deuil eclatant de bonheur!
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+          &lsquo;Tis better to be lowly born,
+          And range with humble livers in content,
+          Than to be perk&rsquo;d up in a glistering grief,
+          And wear a golden sorrow.
+
+          [Henry VIII., Act II., Scene 3.]
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER VIII. MISANTHROPY AND REPENTANCE
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      August 3d, Nine O&rsquo;clock P.M.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      There are days when everything appears gloomy to us; the world, like the
+      sky, is covered by a dark fog. Nothing seems in its place; we see only
+      misery, improvidence, and cruelty; the world seems without God, and given
+      up to all the evils of chance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yesterday I was in this unhappy humor. After a long walk in the faubourgs,
+      I returned home, sad and dispirited.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everything I had seen seemed to accuse the civilization of which we are so
+      proud! I had wandered into a little by-street, with which I was not
+      acquainted, and I found myself suddenly in the middle of those dreadful
+      abodes where the poor are born, to languish and die. I looked at those
+      decaying walls, which time has covered with a foul leprosy; those windows,
+      from which dirty rags hang out to dry; those fetid gutters, which coil
+      along the fronts of the houses like venomous reptiles! I felt oppressed
+      with grief, and hastened on.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A little farther on I was stopped by the hearse of a hospital; a dead man,
+      nailed down in his deal coffin, was going to his last abode, without
+      funeral pomp or ceremony, and without followers. There was not here even
+      that last friend of the outcast&mdash;the dog, which a painter has
+      introduced as the sole attendant at the pauper&rsquo;s burial! He whom they were
+      preparing to commit to the earth was going to the tomb, as he had lived,
+      alone; doubtless no one would be aware of his end. In this battle of
+      society, what signifies a soldier the less?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what, then, is this human society, if one of its members can thus
+      disappear like a leaf carried away by the wind?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The hospital was near a barrack, at the entrance of which old men, women,
+      and children were quarrelling for the remains of the coarse bread which
+      the soldiers had given them in charity! Thus, beings like ourselves daily
+      wait in destitution on our compassion till we give them leave to live!
+      Whole troops of outcasts, in addition to the trials imposed on all God&rsquo;s
+      children, have to endure the pangs of cold, hunger, and humiliation.
+      Unhappy human commonwealth! Where man is in a worse condition than the bee
+      in its hive, or the ant in its subterranean city!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! what then avails our reason? What is the use of so many high
+      faculties, if we are neither the wiser nor the happier for them? Which of
+      us would not exchange his life of labor and trouble with that of the birds
+      of the air, to whom the whole world is a life of joy?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      How well I understand the complaint of Mao, in the popular tales of the
+      &lsquo;Foyer Breton&rsquo; who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks at
+      the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Alas! those birds are happier than Christians; they have no need of inns,
+      or butchers, or bakers, or gardeners. God&rsquo;s heaven belongs to them, and
+      earth spreads a continual feast before them! The tiny flies are their
+      game, ripe grass their cornfields, and hips and haws their store of fruit.
+      They have the right of taking everywhere, without paying or asking leave:
+      thus comes it that the little birds are happy, and sing all the livelong
+      day!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      But the life of man in a natural state is like that of the birds; he
+      equally enjoys nature. &ldquo;The earth spreads a continual feast before him.&rdquo;
+       What, then, has he gained by that selfish and imperfect association which
+      forms a nation? Would it not be better for every one to turn again to the
+      fertile bosom of nature, and live there upon her bounty in peace and
+      liberty?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      August 20th, four o&rsquo;clock A.M.&mdash;The dawn casts a red glow on my
+      bed-curtains; the breeze brings in the fragrance of the gardens below.
+      Here I am again leaning on my elbows by the windows, inhaling the
+      freshness and gladness of this first wakening of the day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My eye always passes over the roofs filled with flowers, warbling, and
+      sunlight, with the same pleasure; but to-day it stops at the end of a
+      buttress which separates our house from the next.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The storms have stripped the top of its plaster covering, and dust carried
+      by the wind has collected in the crevices, and, being fixed there by the
+      rain, has formed a sort of aerial terrace, where some green grass has
+      sprung up. Among it rises a stalk of wheat, which to-day is surmounted by
+      a sickly ear that droops its yellow head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This poor stray crop on the roofs, the harvest of which will fall to the
+      neighboring sparrows, has carried my thoughts to the rich crops which are
+      now falling beneath the sickle; it has recalled to me the beautiful walks
+      I took as a child through my native province, when the threshing-floors at
+      the farmhouses resounded from every part with the sound of a flail, and
+      when the carts, loaded with golden sheaves, came in by all the roads. I
+      still remember the songs of the maidens, the cheerfulness of the old men,
+      the open-hearted merriment of the laborers. There was, at that time,
+      something in their looks both of pride and feeling. The latter came from
+      thankfulness to God, the former from the sight of the harvest, the reward
+      of their labor. They felt indistinctly the grandeur and the holiness of
+      their part in the general work of the world; they looked with pride upon
+      their mountains of corn-sheaves, and they seemed to say, Next to God, it
+      is we who feed the world!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      What a wonderful order there is in all human labor!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for every one his
+      daily bread, the town artizan, far away, weaves the stuff in which he is
+      to be clothed; the miner seeks underground the iron for his plow; the
+      soldier defends him against the invader; the judge takes care that the law
+      protects his fields; the tax-comptroller adjusts his private interests
+      with those of the public; the merchant occupies himself in exchanging his
+      products with those of distant countries; the men of science and of art
+      add every day a few horses to this ideal team, which draws along the
+      material world, as steam impels the gigantic trains of our iron roads!
+      Thus all unite together, all help one another; the toil of each one
+      benefits himself and all the world; the work has been apportioned among
+      the different members of the whole of society by a tacit agreement. If, in
+      this apportionment, errors are committed, if certain individuals have not
+      been employed according to their capacities, those defects of detail
+      diminish in the sublime conception of the whole. The poorest man included
+      in this association has his place, his work, his reason for being there;
+      each is something in the whole.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      There is nothing like this for man in the state of nature. As he depends
+      only upon himself, it is necessary that he be sufficient for everything.
+      All creation is his property; but he finds in it as many hindrances as
+      helps. He must surmount these obstacles with the single strength that God
+      has given him; he cannot reckon on any other aid than chance and
+      opportunity. No one reaps, manufactures, fights, or thinks for him; he is
+      nothing to any one. He is a unit multiplied by the cipher of his own
+      single powers; while the civilized man is a unit multiplied by the whole
+      of society.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But, notwithstanding this, the other day, disgusted by the sight of some
+      vices in detail, I cursed the latter, and almost envied the life of the
+      savage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of the infirmities of our nature is always to mistake feeling for
+      evidence, and to judge of the season by a cloud or a ray of sunshine.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Was the misery, the sight of which made me regret a savage life, really
+      the effect of civilization? Must we accuse society of having created these
+      evils, or acknowledge, on the contrary, that it has alleviated them? Could
+      the women and children, who were receiving the coarse bread from the
+      soldier, hope in the desert for more help or pity? That dead man, whose
+      forsaken state I deplored, had he not found, by the cares of a hospital, a
+      coffin and the humble grave where he was about to rest? Alone, and far
+      from men, he would have died like the wild beast in his den, and would now
+      be serving as food for vultures! These benefits of human society are
+      shared, then, by the most destitute. Whoever eats the bread that another
+      has reaped and kneaded, is under an obligation to his brother, and cannot
+      say he owes him nothing in return. The poorest of us has received from
+      society much more than his own single strength would have permitted him to
+      wrest from nature.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But cannot society give us more? Who doubts it? Errors have been committed
+      in this distribution of tasks and workers. Time will diminish the number
+      of them; with new lights a better division will arise; the elements of
+      society go on toward perfection, like everything else. The difficulty is
+      to know how to adapt ourselves to the slow step of time, whose progress
+      can never be forced on without danger.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      August 14th, six o&rsquo;clock A.M.&mdash;My garret window rises upon the roof
+      like a massive watch-tower. The corners are covered by large sheets of
+      lead, which run into the tiles; the successive action of cold and heat has
+      made them rise, and so a crevice has been formed in an angle on the right
+      side. There a sparrow has built her nest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have followed the progress of this aerial habitation from the first day.
+      I have seen the bird successively bring the straw, moss, and wool designed
+      for the construction of her abode; and I have admired the persevering
+      skill she expended in this difficult work. At first, my new neighbor spent
+      her days in fluttering over the poplar in the garden, and in chirping
+      along the gutters; a fine lady&rsquo;s life seemed the only one to suit her.
+      Then all of a sudden, the necessity of preparing a shelter for her brood
+      transformed our idler into a worker; she no longer gave herself either
+      rest or relaxation. I saw her always either flying, fetching, or carrying;
+      neither rain nor sun stopped her. A striking example of the power of
+      necessity! We are indebted to it not only for most of our talents, but for
+      many of our virtues!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Is it not necessity that has given the people of less favored climates
+      that constant activity which has placed them so quickly at the head of
+      nations? As they are deprived of most of the gifts of nature, they have
+      supplied them by their industry; necessity has sharpened their
+      understanding, endurance awakened their foresight. While elsewhere man,
+      warmed by an ever brilliant sun, and loaded with the bounties of the
+      earth, was remaining poor, ignorant, and naked, in the midst of gifts he
+      did not attempt to explore, here he was forced by necessity to wrest his
+      food from the ground, to build habitations to defend himself from the
+      intemperance of the weather, and to warm his body by clothing himself with
+      the wool of animals. Work makes him both more intelligent and more robust:
+      disciplined by it, he seems to mount higher on the ladder of creation,
+      while those more favored by nature remain on the step nearest to the
+      brutes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I made these reflections while looking at the bird, whose instinct seemed
+      to have become more acute since she had been occupied in work. At last the
+      nest was finished; she set up her household there, and I followed her
+      through all the phases of her new existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When she had sat on the eggs, and the young ones were hatched, she fed
+      them with the most attentive care. The corner of my window had become a
+      stage of moral action, which fathers and mothers might come to take
+      lessons from. The little ones soon became large, and this morning I have
+      seen them take their first flight. One of them, weaker than the others,
+      was not able to clear the edge of the roof, and fell into the gutter. I
+      caught him with some difficulty, and placed him again on the tile in front
+      of his house, but the mother has not noticed him. Once freed from the
+      cares of a family, she has resumed her wandering life among the trees and
+      along the roofs. In vain I have kept away from my window, to take from her
+      every excuse for fear; in vain the feeble little bird has called to her
+      with plaintive cries; his bad mother has passed by, singing and fluttering
+      with a thousand airs and graces. Once only the father came near; he looked
+      at his offspring with contempt, and then disappeared, never to return!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how to
+      peck it with his bill. I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the
+      forsaken nest. What will become of him there, if his mother does not come
+      back!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      August 15th, six o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;This morning, on opening my window, I
+      found the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he
+      had been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother. I tried in vain to
+      warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his
+      eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down! I placed him on the
+      roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window. The struggle of life
+      against death has always something gloomy in it: it is a warning to us.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old
+      neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was my portress. Excellent woman! She wished me to read a letter from
+      her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I kept it, to copy it in my journal. Here it is:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;DEAR MOTHER: This is to tell you that I have been very well ever
+   since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with
+   the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a
+   better craft anywhere.
+
+   &ldquo;A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I
+   saw the captain sinking. I went after him, as was my duty, and,
+   after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which
+   pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had
+   recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would
+   have done to an officer.
+
+   &ldquo;I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me.
+   But it isn&rsquo;t all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded
+   them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I
+   am promoted to be a sailor of the first class! Directly I knew it,
+   I cried out, &lsquo;My mother shall have coffee twice a day!&rsquo; And really,
+   dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have
+   a larger allowance to send you.
+
+   &ldquo;I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do
+   me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want
+   for nothing.
+
+   &ldquo;Your son, from the bottom of my heart,
+
+                         &ldquo;JACQUES.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      This is the answer that the portress dictated to me:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+   &ldquo;MY GOOD JACQUOT: It makes me very happy to see that your heart is
+   still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have
+   brought you up. I need not tell you to take care of your life,
+   because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you,
+   dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not
+   bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty.
+
+   &ldquo;Do not fear for my health, good Jacques; I was never better! I do
+   not grow old at all, for fear of making you unhappy. I want
+   nothing, and I live like a lady. I even had some money over this
+   year, and as my drawers shut very badly, I put it into the savings&rsquo; 
+   bank, where I have opened an account in your name. So, when you
+   come back, you will find yourself with an income. I have also
+   furnished your chest with new linen, and I have knitted you three
+   new sea-jackets.
+
+   &ldquo;All your friends are well. Your cousin is just dead, leaving his
+   widow in difficulties. I gave her your thirty francs&rsquo; remittance
+   and said that you had sent it her; and the poor woman remembers you
+   day and night in her prayers. So, you see, I have put that money in
+   another sort of savings&rsquo; bank; but there it is our hearts that get
+   the interest.
+
+   &ldquo;Good-bye, dear Jacquot. Write to me often, and always remember the
+   good God, and your old mother,
+
+                    &ldquo;PHROSINE MILLOT.&rdquo;
+ </pre>
+    <p>
+      Good son, and worthy mother! how such examples bring us back to a love for
+      the human race! In a fit of fanciful misanthropy, we may envy the fate of
+      the savage, and prefer that of the bird to such as he; but impartial
+      observation soon does justice to such paradoxes. We find, on examination,
+      that in the mixed good and evil of human nature, the good so far abounds
+      that we are not in the habit of noticing it, while the evil strikes us
+      precisely on account of its being the exception. If nothing is perfect,
+      nothing is so bad as to be without its compensation or its remedy. What
+      spiritual riches are there in the midst of the evils of society! how much
+      does the moral world redeem the material!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his
+      power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice. The mother
+      who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to them the
+      necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the preservation of
+      her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a rational choice. When she
+      had accomplished the mission appointed her by Providence, she cast off the
+      duty as we get rid of a burden, and she returned again to her selfish
+      liberty. The other mother, on the contrary, will go on with her task as
+      long as God shall leave her here below: the life of her son will still
+      remain, so to speak, joined to her own; and when she disappears from the
+      earth, she will leave there that part of herself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from all
+      the rest of creation. Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial
+      immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone
+      perpetuates himself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER IX. THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      September 15th, Eight O&rsquo;clock
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in,
+      and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For the
+      nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in her
+      little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but Mother
+      Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm, and cause
+      her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of our acquaintance
+      has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my patronage has
+      become her property.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is a
+      joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs again
+      immediately to send him to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice: but,
+      now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial as
+      usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that
+      she might think she had received her full share already. Were I to live a
+      hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her
+      known to me, and which obtained for her my respect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed her
+      empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by its
+      forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have always
+      instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them, but
+      it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother in
+      poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to
+      those whose very existence is in peril&mdash;the only means by which some
+      orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to enrich
+      himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more than an
+      exchange&mdash;it is a good action.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that
+      fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among the
+      poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to become,
+      according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a worshipper of
+      Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was always reduced to two or
+      three working days, were completely dedicated by him to the worship of
+      this god of the Barriers,&mdash;[The cheap wine shops are outside the
+      Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]&mdash;and Genevieve
+      was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the household.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I heard a
+      sound of quarrelling in the back shop. There were the voices of several
+      women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by sobs. On
+      looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a child in her
+      arms, and kissing it, while a country nurse seemed to be claiming her
+      wages from her. The poor woman, who without doubt had exhausted every
+      explanation and every excuse, was crying in silence, and one of her
+      neighbors was trying in vain to appease the countrywoman. Excited by that
+      love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too well excuse,
+      and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nurse was
+      launching forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse. In spite of myself,
+      I listened to the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and not thinking of
+      going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The joiner had just come from the Barriers, where he had passed part of
+      the day at a public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and untied at the
+      throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in his hand he held his
+      cap, which he had just picked up out of the mud; his hair was in disorder,
+      his eye fixed, and the pallor of drunkenness in his face. He came reeling
+      in, looked wildly around him, and called Genevieve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the
+      sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself, she
+      pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Come! come!&rdquo; cried the former in a rage, &ldquo;do you intend to pay me, after
+      all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ask the master for the money,&rdquo; ironically answered the woman from the
+      next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the
+      counter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countrywoman looked at him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! he is the father,&rdquo; returned she. &ldquo;Well, what idle beggars! not to
+      have a penny to pay honest people; and get tipsy with wine in that way.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drunkard raised his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! what!&rdquo; stammered he; &ldquo;who is it that talks of wine? I&rsquo;ve had
+      nothing but brandy! But I am going back again to get some wine! Wife, give
+      me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the &lsquo;Pere la
+      Tuille&rsquo;.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till, and
+      began to rummage in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see where the money of the house goes!&rdquo; observed the neighbor to the
+      countrywoman; &ldquo;how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes all?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Is that my fault?&rdquo; replied the nurse, angrily. &ldquo;They owe to me, and
+      somehow or other they must pay me!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And letting loose her tongue, as these women out of the country do, she
+      began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child, and all
+      the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all she had
+      done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her rights, and
+      to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared that her
+      violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop, and put it
+      into its cradle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to
+      escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but
+      she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarrelling,
+      with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The joiner, who was
+      still rummaging in the till, was startled, and raised his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms the
+      baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran toward the
+      counter, and throwing herself behind her husband, cried:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Michael, defend your son!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My son!&rdquo; stammered he; &ldquo;what son?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over his
+      features.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robert,&rdquo; resumed he; &ldquo;it is Robert!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but
+      he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My money, or I shall take the child away!&rdquo; cried she. &ldquo;It is I who have
+      fed and brought it up: if you don&rsquo;t pay me for what has made it live, it
+      ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go until I
+      have my due, or the baby.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what would you do with him?&rdquo; murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert
+      against her bosom.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Take it to the Foundling!&rdquo; replied the countrywoman, harshly; &ldquo;the
+      hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of its
+      little ones.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At the word &ldquo;Foundling,&rdquo; Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror. With her
+      arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her two
+      hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained with
+      her back against it, like a lioness defending her young. The neighbor and
+      I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could interfere. As for
+      Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible effort to comprehend
+      it all. When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the child, it lit up with a
+      gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us, he again became stupid
+      and hesitating.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, &ldquo;Wait!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And going to a tub filled with water, he plunged his face into it several
+      times.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every eye was turned upon him; the countrywoman herself seemed astonished.
+      At length he raised his dripping head. This ablution had partly dispelled
+      his drunkenness; he looked at us for a moment, then he turned to
+      Genevieve, and his face brightened up.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Robert!&rdquo; cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms.
+      &ldquo;Ah! give him me, wife; I must look at him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The mother seemed to give up his son to him with reluctance, and stayed
+      before him with her arms extended, as if she feared the child would have a
+      fall. The nurse began again in her turn to speak, and renewed her claims,
+      this time threatening to appeal to law. At first Michael listened to her
+      attentively, and when he comprehended her meaning, he gave the child back
+      to its mother.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How much do we owe you?&rdquo; asked he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The countrywoman began to reckon up the different expenses, which amounted
+      to nearly thirty francs. The joiner felt to the bottom of his pockets, but
+      could find nothing. His forehead became contracted by frowns; low curses
+      began to escape him. All of a sudden he rummaged in his breast, drew forth
+      a large watch, and holding it up above his head:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Here it is&mdash;here&rsquo;s your money!&rdquo; cried he with a joyful laugh; &ldquo;a
+      watch, a good one! I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry day;
+      but it is not I who will drink it, but the young one. Ah! ah! ah! go and
+      sell it for me, neighbor, and if that is not enough, I have my earrings.
+      Eh! Genevieve, take them off for me; the earrings will square all! They
+      shall not say you have been disgraced on account of the child&mdash;no,
+      not even if I must pledge a bit of my flesh! My watch, my earrings, and my
+      ring&mdash;get rid of all of them for me at the goldsmith&rsquo;s; pay the
+      woman, and let the little fool go to sleep. Give him me, Genevieve; I will
+      put him to bed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him with a
+      firm step to his cradle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from this
+      day. He cut all his old drinking acquaintances. He went early every
+      morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the
+      day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not leave them at all,
+      and he hired a place near the fruit-shop, and worked in it on his own
+      account.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been for the
+      expenses which the child required. Everything was given up to his
+      education. He had gone through the regular school training, had studied
+      mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter&rsquo;s trade, and had only begun to
+      work a few months ago. Till now, they had been exhausting every resource
+      which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his
+      business; and, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the
+      seed had brought forth fruit, and the days of harvest were close by.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had come
+      in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also
+      scrutinizing the joiner.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply marked
+      his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stoop, his legs are
+      shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in his whole
+      being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and despondency. He
+      answers my questions by monosyllables, and like a man who wishes to avoid
+      conversation. Whence comes this dejection, when one would think he had all
+      he could wish for? I should like to know!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ten o&rsquo;clock.&mdash;Michael is just gone downstairs to look for a tool he
+      has forgotten. I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of
+      his and Genevieve&rsquo;s sorrow. Their son Robert is the cause of it!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Not that he has turned out ill after all their care&mdash;not that he is
+      idle or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any
+      more. The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad
+      their lives once more; his mother counted the days, his father prepared
+      everything to receive their dear associate in their toils; and at the
+      moment when they were thus about to be repaid for all their sacrifices,
+      Robert had suddenly informed them that he had just engaged himself to a
+      contractor at Versailles.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Every remonstrance and every prayer were useless; he brought forward the
+      necessity of initiating himself into all the details of an important
+      contract, the facilities he should have in his new position of improving
+      himself in his trade, and the hopes he had of turning his knowledge to
+      advantage. At, last, when his mother, having come to the end of her
+      arguments, began to cry, he hastily kissed her, and went away that he
+      might avoid any further remonstrances.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had been absent a year, and there was nothing to give them hopes of his
+      return. His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only stayed a
+      few moments with them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded,&rdquo; Michael said to
+      me just now. &ldquo;I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has
+      given me an ambitious and avaricious one! I had always said to myself that
+      when once he was grown up we should have him always with us, to recall our
+      youth and to enliven our hearts. His mother was always thinking of getting
+      him married, and having children again to care for. You know women always
+      will busy themselves about others. As for me, I thought of him working
+      near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he has learnt music, and is
+      one of the best singers at the Orpheon.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A dream, sir, truly! Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight,
+      and remembers neither father nor mother. Yesterday, for instance, was the
+      day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us. No Robert
+      to-day, either! He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain to
+      arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after the
+      customers and the joiner&rsquo;s work. Ah! if I could have guessed how it would
+      have turned out! Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money, for
+      nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son! Was it for this
+      I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with my friends,
+      to become an example to the neighborhood? The jovial good fellow has made
+      a goose of himself. Oh! if I had to begin again! No, no! you see women and
+      children are our bane. They soften our hearts; they lead us a life of hope
+      and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives in fostering the growth of a
+      grain of corn which is to be everything to us in our old age, and when the
+      harvest-time comes&mdash;good-night, the ear is empty!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      While he was speaking, Michael&rsquo;s voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce, and
+      his lips quivered. I wished to answer him, but I could only think of
+      commonplace consolations, and I remained silent. The joiner pretended he
+      needed a tool, and left me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Poor father! Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has failed
+      to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her! Who has not felt this
+      weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once, the
+      mournful exclamation of Brutus?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true and
+      real? No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain! It does not always
+      give the happiness we had hoped for, but it brings some other. In the
+      world everything is ruled by order, and has its proper and necessary
+      consequences, and virtue cannot be the sole exception to the general law.
+      If it had been prejudicial to those who practised it, experience would
+      have avenged them; but experience has, on the contrary, made it more
+      universal and more holy. We only accuse it of being a faithless debtor
+      because we demand an immediate payment, and one apparent to our senses. We
+      always consider life as a fairytale, in which every good action must be
+      rewarded by a visible wonder. We do not accept as payment a peaceful
+      conscience, self-content, or a good name among men&mdash;treasures that
+      are more precious than any other, but the value of which we do not feel
+      till after we have lost them!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Michael is come back, and has returned to his work. His son has not yet
+      arrived.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By telling me of his hopes and his grievous disappointments, he became
+      excited; he unceasingly went over again the same subject, always adding
+      something to his griefs. He had just wound up his confidential discourse
+      by speaking to me of a joiner&rsquo;s business which he had hoped to buy, and
+      work to good account with Robert&rsquo;s help. The present owner had made a
+      fortune by it, and, after thirty years of business, he was thinking of
+      retiring to one of the ornamental cottages in the outskirts of the city, a
+      usual retreat for the frugal and successful workingman. Michael had not
+      indeed the two thousand francs which must be paid down; but perhaps he
+      could have persuaded Master Benoit to wait. Robert&rsquo;s presence would have
+      been a security for him, for the young man could not fail to insure the
+      prosperity of a workshop; besides science and skill, he had the power of
+      invention and bringing to perfection. His father had discovered among his
+      drawings a new plan for a staircase, which had occupied his thoughts for a
+      long time; and he even suspected him of having engaged himself to the
+      Versailles contractor for the very purpose of executing it. The youth was
+      tormented by this spirit of invention, which took possession of all his
+      thoughts, and, while devoting his mind to study, he had no time to listen
+      to his feelings.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Michael told me all this with a mixed feeling of pride and vexation. I saw
+      he was proud of the son he was abusing, and that his very pride made him
+      more sensitive to that son&rsquo;s neglect.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Six o&rsquo;clock P.M.&mdash;I have just finished a happy day. How many events
+      have happened within a few hours, and what a change for Genevieve and
+      Michael!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He had just finished fixing the shelves, and telling me of his son, while
+      I laid the cloth for my breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Suddenly we heard hurried steps in the passage, the door opened, and
+      Genevieve entered with Robert.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The joiner gave a start of joyful surprise, but he repressed it
+      immediately, as if he wished to keep up the appearance of displeasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man did not appear to notice it, but threw himself into his arms
+      in an open-hearted manner, which surprised me. Genevieve, whose face shone
+      with happiness, seemed to wish to speak, and to restrain herself with
+      difficulty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I told Robert I was glad to see him, and he answered me with ease and
+      civility.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I expected you yesterday,&rdquo; said Michael Arout, rather dryly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Forgive me, father,&rdquo; replied the young workman, &ldquo;but I had business at
+      St. Germain&rsquo;s. I was not able to come back till it was very late, and then
+      the master kept me.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;All right,&rdquo; muttered he, in a grumbling tone; &ldquo;when we are with other
+      people we must do as they wish; but there are some who would like better
+      to eat brown bread with their own knife than partridges with the silver
+      fork of a master.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And I am one of those, father,&rdquo; replied Robert, merrily, &ldquo;but, as the
+      proverb says, &lsquo;you must shell the peas before you can eat them.&rsquo; It was
+      necessary that I should first work in a great workshop&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To go on with your plan of the staircase,&rdquo; interrupted Michael,
+      ironically.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You must now say Monsieur Raymond&rsquo;s plan, father,&rdquo; replied Robert,
+      smiling.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Why?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because I have sold it to him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Sold it!&rdquo; cried he, with sparkling eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Michael threw down the board and tool.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There he is again!&rdquo; resumed he, angrily; &ldquo;his good genius puts an idea
+      into his head which would have made him known, and he goes and sells it to
+      a rich man, who will take the honor of it himself.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well, what harm is there done?&rdquo; asked Genevieve.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What harm!&rdquo; cried the joiner, in a passion. &ldquo;You understand nothing about
+      it&mdash;you are a woman; but he&mdash;he knows well that a true workman
+      never gives up his own inventions for money, no more than a soldier would
+      give up his cross. That is his glory; he is bound to keep it for the honor
+      it does him! Ah, thunder! if I had ever made a discovery, rather than put
+      it up at auction I would have sold one of my eyes! Don&rsquo;t you see that a
+      new invention is like a child to a workman? He takes care of it, he brings
+      it up, he makes a way for it in the world, and it is only a poor creature
+      who sells it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Robert colored a little.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You will think differently, father,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;when you know why I sold
+      my plan.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Yes, and you will thank him for it,&rdquo; added Genevieve, who could no longer
+      keep silence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Never!&rdquo; replied Michael.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But, wretched man!&rdquo; cried she, &ldquo;he sold it only for our sakes!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The joiner looked at his wife and son with astonishment. It was necessary
+      to come to an explanation. The latter related how he had entered into a
+      negotiation with Master Benoit, who had positively refused to sell his
+      business unless one half of the two thousand francs were first paid down.
+      It was in the hopes of obtaining this sum that he had gone to work with
+      the contractor at Versailles; he had had an opportunity of trying his
+      invention, and of finding a purchaser. Thanks to the money he received for
+      it, he had just concluded the bargain with Benoit, and had brought his
+      father the key of the new work-yard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This explanation was given by the young workman with so much modesty and
+      simplicity that I was quite affected by it. Genevieve cried; Michael
+      pressed his son to his heart, and in a long embrace he seemed to ask his
+      pardon for having unjustly accused him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All was now explained with honor to Robert. The conduct which his parents
+      had ascribed to indifference really sprang from affection; he had neither
+      obeyed the voice of ambition nor of avarice, nor even the nobler
+      inspiration of inventive genius: his whole motive and single aim had been
+      the happiness of Genevieve and Michael. The day for proving his gratitude
+      had come, and he had returned them sacrifice for sacrifice!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the explanations and exclamations of joy were over, all three were
+      about to leave me; but, the cloth being laid, I added three more places,
+      and kept them to breakfast.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The meal was prolonged: the fare was only tolerable; but the over-flowings
+      of affection made it delicious. Never had I better understood the
+      unspeakable charm of family love. What calm enjoyment in that happiness
+      which is always shared with others; in that community of interests which
+      unites such various feelings; in that association of existences which
+      forms one single being of so many! What is man without those home
+      affections, which, like so many roots, fix him firmly in the earth, and
+      permit him to imbibe all the juices of life? Energy, happiness&mdash;do
+      not all these come from them? Without family life where would man learn to
+      love, to associate, to deny himself? A community in little, is it not this
+      which teaches us how to live in the great one? Such is the holiness of
+      home, that, to express our relation with God, we have been obliged to
+      borrow the words invented for our family life. Men have named themselves
+      the sons of a heavenly Father!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! let us carefully preserve these chains of domestic union. Do not let
+      us unbind the human sheaf, and scatter its ears to all the caprices of
+      chance and of the winds; but let us rather enlarge this holy law; let us
+      carry the principles and the habits of home beyond set bounds; and, if it
+      may be, let us realize the prayer of the Apostle of the Gentiles when he
+      exclaimed to the newborn children of Christ: &ldquo;Be ye like-minded, having
+      the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      BOOK 3.
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER X. OUR COUNTRY
+    </h2>
+    <p>
+      October 12th, Seven O&rsquo;clock A.M.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through my
+      curtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even when
+      my eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under my
+      counterpane. Every morning there begins a long argument between my
+      activity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I wait like
+      the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my pillow,
+      awoke me earlier than usual. In vain I turned on my side; the persevering
+      light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into every position. At last,
+      quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled my nightcap to the foot of the
+      bed!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      (I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions of
+      this pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbols
+      of the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed its
+      most common images from them.)
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my new
+      neighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to sleep.
+      We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live on their
+      own account. Each one of us is like the earth, according to the old system
+      of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolve around
+      himself. On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to: &lsquo;Tous les
+      hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet&rsquo;.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to the other
+      end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the warm bedclothes,
+      while making a host of evil reflections upon the inconvenience of having
+      neighbors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance had
+      given me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again on
+      rising. I was almost always alone on this top story&mdash;alone with the
+      clouds and the sparrows!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, like the
+      seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take mere
+      passengers. How many different faces have I already seen pass along the
+      landing-place belonging to our attics! How many companions of a few days
+      have disappeared forever! Some are lost in that medley of the living which
+      whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others in that
+      resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Peter the bookbinder is one of these last. Wrapped up in selfishness, he
+      lived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived. His loss was
+      neither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; there
+      was merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied in our
+      house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few days.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with my
+      nightcap)&mdash;to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier
+      than suits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries his
+      misfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, with
+      cheerfulness and moderation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But fate has cruelly tried him. Father Chaufour is but the wreck of a man.
+      In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left leg is
+      made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; but
+      above these ruins rises a calm and happy face. While looking upon his
+      countenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice,
+      the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see that
+      the soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering. The fortress
+      is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrison is quite
+      hearty.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproach
+      myself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor.
+      All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent to
+      us, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sin
+      which does not betray itself by action!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws? Besides
+      these external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling between
+      men? Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven as
+      ourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes? Ought not
+      every human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with our
+      prayers for a happy voyage? It is not enough that men do not harm one
+      another; they must also help and love one another! The papal benediction,
+      &lsquo;Urbi et orbi&rsquo;! should be the constant cry from all hearts. To condemn him
+      who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by a passing thought, is
+      to break the great law, that which has established the union of souls here
+      below, and to which Christ has given the sweet name of charity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said to
+      myself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me. To make
+      amends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed him
+      some explicit proof of sympathy. I heard him humming a tune in his room;
+      he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first neighborly
+      call.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Eight o&rsquo;clock P.M.&mdash;I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by a
+      little smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, and making
+      large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a low tone. I had
+      hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation of surprise and
+      pleasure.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Eh! is it you, neighbor? Come in, then! I did not think you got up so
+      early, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Excellent man! while I was sending him to the devil he was putting himself
+      out of his way for me!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having become my
+      neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Faith! you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian,&rdquo; said he in a
+      voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand. &ldquo;I do not
+      like those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, and
+      treat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks. When men snuff the same
+      air, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs to
+      each other. Sit down there, neighbor; I don&rsquo;t mean to order you; only take
+      care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-will in
+      place of the fourth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here,&rdquo; I
+      observed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Good-will!&rdquo; repeated Chaufour; &ldquo;that is all my mother left me, and I take
+      it no son has received a better inheritance. Therefore they used to call
+      me Monsieur Content in the batteries.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You are a soldier, then?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward in the
+      Guard, through all the commotions. I was at Jemappes and at Waterloo; so I
+      was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as one may say!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I looked at him with astonishment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And how old were you then, at Jemappes?&rdquo; asked I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Somewhere about fifteen,&rdquo; said he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How came you to think of being a soldier so early?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not really think about it. I then worked at toy-making, and never
+      dreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make her
+      draught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls. But I had an old uncle
+      at Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time&mdash;a Fontenoy veteran
+      in the same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen
+      to that of a marshal. Unluckily, in those days there was no way for common
+      people to get on. My uncle, whose services would have got him made a
+      prince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of
+      sub-lieutenant. But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross of
+      St. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noble
+      countenance. You would have said he was a portrait of one of those old
+      heroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my
+      memory. But one day I found him quite grave.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Jerome,&rsquo; said he, &lsquo;do you know what is going on on the frontier?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;No, lieutenant,&rsquo; replied I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Well,&rsquo; resumed he, &lsquo;our country is in danger!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Perhaps you have never thought what your country means,&rsquo; continued he,
+      placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all that
+      has brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved! This ground that
+      you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along there
+      laughing&mdash;this is your country! The laws which protect you, the bread
+      which pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the joy
+      and grief which come to you from the men and things among which you live&mdash;this
+      is your country! The little room where you used to see your mother, the
+      remembrances she has left you, the earth where she rests&mdash;this is
+      your country! You see it, you breathe it, everywhere! Think to yourself,
+      my son, of your rights and your duties, your affections and your wants,
+      your past and your present blessings; write them all under a single name&mdash;and
+      that name will be your country!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Ah! I understand,&rsquo; cried I; &lsquo;it is our home in large; it is that part of
+      the world where God has placed our body and our soul.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;You are right, Jerome,&rsquo; continued the old soldier; &lsquo;so you comprehend
+      also what we owe it.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Truly,&rsquo; resumed I, &lsquo;we owe it all that we are; it is a question of
+      love.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;And of honesty, my son,&rsquo; concluded he. &lsquo;The member of a family who does
+      not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his duty, and
+      is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not enrich it with
+      all his might, with all his courage, and with all his heart, defrauds it
+      of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man. It is the same with him who
+      enjoys the advantages of having a country, and does not accept the burdens
+      of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad citizen!&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?&rsquo; asked I.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,&rsquo; said
+      he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the blood
+      boiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncle&rsquo;s words
+      were, so to speak, written up before my eyes. I repeated, &lsquo;Do for your
+      country what you would do for your father and mother.&rsquo; And my country is
+      in danger; an enemy attacks it, while I&mdash;I turn cups and balls!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I returned
+      to Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just enlisted, and
+      was going off to the frontier. The brave man pressed upon me his cross of
+      St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I
+      had cut my wisdom teeth.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looks
+      upon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of himself,
+      but of the general subject. Evidently that which occupied him in the drama
+      of life was not his own part, but the drama itself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This sort of disinterestedness touched me. I prolonged my visit, and
+      showed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence in
+      return. In an hour&rsquo;s time he knew my position and my habits; I was on the
+      footing of an old acquaintance.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a short
+      time before. He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness which
+      comes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything on
+      the good side. He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged him
+      to work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old soldier
+      compared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his forehead,
+      accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list round his
+      door!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      O great and beautiful soul! with whom nothing turns to bitterness, and who
+      art peremptory only in duty and benevolence!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      October 15th.&mdash;This morning I was looking at a little engraving I had
+      framed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design of
+      Gavarni&rsquo;s; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and a
+      conscript.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression, and
+      so true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen them
+      move, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene, at
+      which I am present as spectator.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of the young
+      soldier. His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sun shining
+      through the flowering chestnut-trees. In the place of his right arm hangs
+      an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound of which on the
+      pavement makes those who pass turn to look.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greater
+      number shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or an
+      imprecation.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;See the worth of glory!&rdquo; says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes in
+      horror.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What a deplorable use of human life!&rdquo; rejoins a young man who carries a
+      volume of philosophy under his arm.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The trooper would better not have left his plow,&rdquo; adds a countryman, with
+      a cunning air.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Poor old man!&rdquo; murmurs a woman, almost crying.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him that his
+      guide has grown thoughtful. The latter, attracted by what he hears around
+      him, hardly answers the old man&rsquo;s questions, and his eyes, vaguely lost in
+      space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some problem.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he stops
+      abruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;They all pity me,&rdquo; says he, &ldquo;because they do not understand it; but if I
+      were to answer them&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What would you say to them, father?&rdquo; asks the young man, with curiosity.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keep
+      her tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind some
+      struggle for my colors. There is room for doubting how some men have done
+      their duty; with me it is visible. I carry the account of my services,
+      written with the enemy&rsquo;s steel and lead, on myself; to pity me for having
+      done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false to it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And what would you say to the countryman, father?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first secure
+      the country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners ready to eat
+      our harvest, there must be arms to defend it.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use of
+      life.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach. The
+      books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never read them:
+      the principles he applauds we have defended with powder and bayonet.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, when he
+      saw your maimed body, &lsquo;See the worth of glory!&rdquo;&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul; it
+      is this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage. The Master
+      of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men. When we desire to be
+      distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove our esteem and our
+      sympathy for them? The longing for admiration is but one side of love. No,
+      no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for! That which we should
+      deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove a generous
+      self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence have called
+      forth. Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when passing, cast looks
+      of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose excesses have dimmed
+      his sight before he is old, &lsquo;What have you done with your eyes?&rsquo; To the
+      slothful man, who with difficulty drags along his enervated mass of flesh,
+      &lsquo;What have you done with your feet?&rsquo; To the old man, who is punished for
+      his intemperance by the gout, &lsquo;What have you done with your hands?&rsquo; To
+      all, &lsquo;What have you done with the days God granted you, with the faculties
+      you should have employed for the good of your brethren?&rsquo; If you cannot
+      answer, bestow no more of your pity upon the old soldier maimed in his
+      country&rsquo;s cause; for he&mdash;he at least&mdash;can show his scars without
+      shame.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      October 16th.&mdash;The little engraving has made me comprehend better the
+      merits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He has just now left my attic. There no longer passes a single day without
+      his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by his board.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it. For twenty
+      years he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought without
+      hatred, for he was possessed by a single thought&mdash;the honor of the
+      national flag! It might have been his superstition, if you will; but it
+      was, at the same time, his safeguard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through the
+      world, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation. To
+      have to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it is
+      an encouragement to vigorous ones.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I, too, have had many moments,&rdquo; said he to me the other day, &ldquo;when I have
+      been tempted to make friends with the devil. War is not precisely the
+      school for rural virtues. By dint of burning, destroying, and killing, you
+      grow a little tough as regards your feelings; &lsquo;and, when the bayonet has
+      made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into your head a little
+      strongly. But at these moments I called to mind that country which the
+      lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself the well-known
+      phrase, &lsquo;Toujours Francais! It has been laughed at since. People who would
+      make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it into ridicule, as
+      if the name of our country was not also a noble and a binding thing. For
+      my part, I shall never forget from how many follies the title of Frenchman
+      has kept me. When, overcome with fatigue, I have found myself in the rear
+      of the colors, and when the musketry was rattling in the front ranks, many
+      a time I heard a voice, which whispered in my ear, &lsquo;Leave the others to
+      fight, and for today take care of your own hide!&rsquo; But then, that word
+      Francais! murmured within me, and I pressed forward to help my comrades.
+      At other times, when, irritated by hunger, cold, and wounds, I have
+      arrived at the hovel of some Meinherr, I have been seized by an itching to
+      break the master&rsquo;s back, and to burn his hut; but I whispered to myself,
+      Francais! and this name would not rhyme with either incendiary or
+      murderer. I have, in this way, passed through kingdoms from east to west,
+      and from north to south, always determined not to bring disgrace upon my
+      country&rsquo;s flag. The lieutenant, you see, had taught me a magic word&mdash;My
+      country! Not only must we defend it, but we must also make it great and
+      loved.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      October 17th.&mdash;To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit. A chance
+      expression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yet
+      done.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;No, no!&rdquo; replied he; &ldquo;the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart
+      quarries that my arm went to feed.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And when I asked him for the particulars&mdash;
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That&rsquo;s as easy as to say good-morning,&rdquo; continued he. &ldquo;After the great
+      break-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to give
+      my wooden leg time to grow. As soon as I was able to hobble a little, I
+      took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hoped to
+      find some relative or friend; but no&mdash;all were gone, or underground.
+      I should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin. And
+      although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the better off;
+      my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped him
+      out of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he had
+      offered me bed and board at his house. I knew that the year before he had
+      married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanent
+      coat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations. It
+      remained to see if I had not anything better to do. One evening I set
+      myself to reflect upon it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Let us see, Chaufour,&rsquo; said I to myself; &lsquo;the question is to act like a
+      man. The colonel&rsquo;s place suits you, but cannot you do anything better?
+      Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you not owe
+      all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said? Why not
+      leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his hospital at
+      the colonel&rsquo;s? Come, trooper, you are still fit for another stout charge
+      or two! You must not lay up before your time.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to an old
+      artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who had taken
+      up the quarryman&rsquo;s pick again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;For the first few months I played the conscript&rsquo;s part&mdash;that is to
+      say, there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the
+      better of stones, as of everything else. I did not become, so to speak,
+      the leader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen,
+      and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with a
+      good will. For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride. The
+      thought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into houses
+      pleased my heart. I said to myself, &lsquo;Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; you
+      are helping to beautify your country.&rsquo; And that kept up my spirit.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to the
+      charms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, who
+      could hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper to
+      strike a light close to a charged mine. The mine exploded suddenly, and
+      sent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, and carried
+      away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;So you were again without means of living?&rdquo; said I to the old soldier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;That is to say, I had to change them,&rdquo; replied he, quietly. &ldquo;The
+      difficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead of
+      ten; I found it, however.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;How was that?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Among the Paris street-sweepers.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What! you have been one&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that was
+      not my worst time either. The corps of sweepers is not so low as it is
+      dirty, I can tell you! There are old actresses in it who could never learn
+      to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; we even had a
+      professor of classics, who for a little drink would recite Latin to you,
+      or Greek tragedies, as you chose. They could not have competed for the
+      Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account of poverty, and cheered
+      our poverty by our good-humor and jokes. I was as ragged and as cheerful
+      as the rest, while trying to be something better. Even in the mire of the
+      gutter I preserved my faith that nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+      to our country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Chaufour,&rsquo; said I to myself with a smile, &lsquo;after the sword, the hammer;
+      after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old boy, but you
+      are still serving your country.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;However, you ended by leaving your new profession?&rsquo; said I.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;A reform was required, neighbor. The street-sweepers seldom have their
+      feet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open again.
+      I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to lay down my
+      arms. It is now two months since I left off working in the sanitary
+      department of Paris.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;At the first moment I was daunted. Of my four limbs, I had now only my
+      right hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary to
+      find some gentlemanly occupation for it. After trying a little of
+      everything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for the
+      lace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, but
+      it is within the capacity of all. By getting up at four and working till
+      eight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup take fifty
+      of them, and there are three sous over for luxuries. So I am richer than
+      France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I continue to
+      serve her, as I save her lace and buttons.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with his
+      great scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboard
+      cases. My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle of
+      life, always march in front for the example and the salvation of the
+      world! Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is
+      &ldquo;Country,&rdquo; for that &ldquo;Home,&rdquo; for a third &ldquo;Mankind;&rdquo; but they all follow the
+      same standard&mdash;that of duty; for all the same divine law reigns&mdash;that
+      of self-sacrifice. To love something more than one&rsquo;s self&mdash;that is
+      the secret of all that is great; to know how to live for others&mdash;that
+      is the aim of all noble souls.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XI. MORAL USE OF INVENTORIES
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      November 13th, Nine O&rsquo;clock P.M.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      I had well stopped up the chinks of my window; my little carpet was nailed
+      down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast a subdued light
+      around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as if some live creature
+      was sharing my hearth with me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      All was silent around me. But, out of doors the snow and rain swept the
+      roofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters;
+      sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beneath the tiles, which rattled
+      together like castanets, and afterward it was lost in the empty corridor.
+      Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my veins: I drew the
+      flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I pulled my threadbare
+      velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink deeper into my
+      easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light which shone through
+      the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a sensation of enjoyment, made
+      more lively by the consciousness of the storm which raged without. My
+      eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered over all the details of my
+      peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to my bookcase, resting upon
+      the little chintz sofa, the white curtains of the iron bedstead, and the
+      portfolio of loose papers&mdash;those archives of the attics; and then,
+      returning to the book I held in my hand, they attempted to seize once more
+      the thread of the reading which had been thus interrupted.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first interested me, had
+      become painful to me. I had come to the conclusion that the pictures of
+      the writer were too sombre. His description of the miseries of the world
+      appeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of poverty
+      and of suffering; neither God nor man could show themselves so harsh
+      toward the sons of Adam. The author had yielded to an artistic temptation:
+      he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Nero burned Rome
+      for the sake of the picturesque.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so much
+      criticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it to
+      satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness of
+      the wise man costs but little, and asks but little space.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      These consoling reflections became more and more confused. At last my book
+      fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop and take it
+      up again; and insensibly overcome by the luxury of the silence, the
+      subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging to a
+      first sleep; at last some vague and broken sensations came over me. It
+      seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder. I half
+      perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretell the
+      coming of winter. I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and there with
+      juniper-trees white with frost. Then the scene suddenly changed. I was in
+      the diligence; the cold wind shook the doors and windows; the trees,
+      loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust my benumbed feet
+      into the crushed straw. At last the carriage stopped, and, by one of those
+      stage effects so common in sleep, I found myself alone in a barn, without
+      a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides. I saw again my mother&rsquo;s
+      gentle face, known only to me in my early childhood, the noble and stern
+      countenance of my father, the little fair head of my sister, who was taken
+      from us at ten years old; all my dead family lived again around me; they
+      were there, exposed to the bitings of the cold and to the pangs of hunger.
+      My mother prayed by the resigned old man, and my sister, rolled up on some
+      rags of which they had made her a bed, wept in silence, and held her naked
+      feet in her little blue hands.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was a page from the book I had just read transferred into my own
+      existence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      My heart was oppressed with inexpressible anguish. Crouched in a corner,
+      with my eyes fixed upon this dismal picture, I felt the cold slowly
+      creeping upon me, and I said to myself with bitterness:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Let us die, since poverty is a dungeon guarded by suspicion, apathy, and
+      contempt, and from which it is vain to try to escape; let us die, since
+      there is no place for us at the banquet of the living!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      And I tried to rise to join my mother again, and to wait at her feet for
+      the hour of release.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This effort dispelled my dream, and I awoke with a start.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I looked around me; my lamp was expiring, the fire in my stove
+      extinguished, and my half-opened door was letting in an icy wind. I got
+      up, with a shiver, to shut and double-lock it; then I made for the alcove,
+      and went to bed in haste.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But the cold kept me awake a long time, and my thoughts continued the
+      interrupted dream.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The pictures I had lately accused of exaggeration now seemed but a too
+      faithful representation of reality; and I went to sleep without being able
+      to recover my optimism&mdash;or my warmth.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus did a cold stove and a badly closed door alter my point of view. All
+      went well when my blood circulated properly; all looked gloomy when the
+      cold laid hold on me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      This reminds me of the story of the duchess who was obliged to pay a visit
+      to the neighboring convent on a winter&rsquo;s day. The convent was poor, there
+      was no wood, and the monks had nothing but their discipline and the ardor
+      of their prayers to keep out the cold. The duchess, who was shivering with
+      cold, returned home, greatly pitying the poor monks. While the servants
+      were taking off her cloak and adding two more logs to her fire, she called
+      her steward, whom she ordered to send some wood to the convent
+      immediately. She then had her couch moved close to the fireside, the
+      warmth of which soon revived her. The recollection of what she had just
+      suffered was speedily lost in her present comfort, when the steward came
+      in again to ask how many loads of wood he was to send.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh! you may wait,&rdquo; said the great lady carelessly; &ldquo;the weather is very
+      much milder.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, man&rsquo;s judgments are formed less from reason than from sensation; and
+      as sensation comes to him from the outward world, so he finds himself more
+      or less under its influence; by little and little he imbibes a portion of
+      his habits and feelings from it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It is not, then, without cause that, when we wish to judge of a stranger
+      beforehand, we look for indications of his character in the circumstances
+      which surround him. The things among which we live are necessarily made to
+      take our image, and we unconsciously leave in them a thousand impressions
+      of our minds. As we can judge by an empty bed of the height and attitude
+      of him who has slept in it, so the abode of every man discovers to a close
+      observer the extent of his intelligence and the feelings of his heart.
+      Bernardin de St.-Pierre has related the story of a young girl who refused
+      a suitor because he would never have flowers or domestic animals in his
+      house. Perhaps the sentence was severe, but not without reason. We may
+      presume that a man insensible to beauty and to humble affection must be
+      ill prepared to feel the enjoyments of a happy marriage.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      14th, seven o&rsquo;clock P.M.&mdash;This morning, as I was opening my journal
+      to write, I had a visit from our old cashier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      His sight is not so good as it was, his hand begins to shake, and the work
+      he was able to do formerly is now becoming somewhat laborious to him. I
+      had undertaken to write out some of his papers, and he came for those I
+      had finished.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      We conversed a long time by the stove, while he was drinking a cup of
+      coffee which I made him take.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Rateau is a sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little; so
+      that he has always something to say.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      While looking over the accounts I had prepared for him, his look fell upon
+      my journal, and I was obliged to acknowledge that in this way I wrote a
+      diary of my actions and thoughts every evening for private use. From one
+      thing to another, I began speaking to him of my dream the day before, and
+      my reflections about the influence of outward objects upon our ordinary
+      sentiments. He smiled.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you, too, have my superstitions,&rdquo; he said, quietly. &ldquo;I have always
+      believed, like you, that you may know the game by the lair: it is only
+      necessary to have tact and experience; but without them we commit
+      ourselves to many rash judgments. For my part. I have been guilty of this
+      more than once, but sometimes I have also drawn a right conclusion. I
+      recollect especially an adventure which goes as far back as the first
+      years of my youth&mdash;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      He stopped. I looked at him as if I waited for his story, and he told it
+      me at once.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At this time he was still but third clerk to an attorney at Orleans. His
+      master had sent him to Montargis on different affairs, and he intended to
+      return in the diligence the same evening, after having received the amount
+      of a bill at a neighboring town; but they kept him at the debtor&rsquo;s house,
+      and when he was able to set out the day had already closed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Fearing not to be able to reach Montargis in good time, he took a
+      crossroad they pointed out to him. Unfortunately the fog increased, no
+      star was visible in the heavens, and the darkness became so great that he
+      lost his road. He tried to retrace his steps, passed twenty footpaths, and
+      at last was completely astray.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After the vexation of losing his place in the diligence, came the feeling
+      of uneasiness as to his situation. He was alone, on foot, lost in a
+      forest, without any means of finding his right road again, and with a
+      considerable sum of money about him, for which he was responsible. His
+      anxiety was increased by his inexperience. The idea of a forest was
+      connected in his mind with so many adventures of robbery and murder, that
+      he expected some fatal encounter every instant.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      To say the truth, his situation was not encouraging. The place was not
+      considered safe, and for some time past there had been rumors of the
+      sudden disappearance of several horse-dealers, though there was no trace
+      of any crime having been committed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our young traveller, with his eyes staring forward, and his ears
+      listening, followed a footpath which he supposed might take him to some
+      house or road; but woods always succeeded to woods. At last he perceived a
+      light at a distance, and in a quarter of an hour he reached the highroad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A single house, the light from which had attracted him, appeared at a
+      little distance. He was going toward the entrance gate of the courtyard,
+      when the trot of a horse made him turn his head. A man on horseback had
+      just appeared at the turning of the road, and in an instant was close to
+      him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first words he addressed to the young man showed him to be the farmer
+      himself. He related how he had lost himself, and learned from the
+      countryman that he was on the road to Pithiviers. Montargis was three
+      leagues behind him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The fog had insensibly changed into a drizzling rain, which was beginning
+      to wet the young clerk through; he seemed afraid of the distance he had
+      still to go, and the horseman, who saw his hesitation, invited him to come
+      into the farmhouse.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It had something of the look of a fortress. Surrounded by a pretty high
+      wall, it could not be seen except through the bars of the great gate,
+      which was carefully closed. The farmer, who had got off his horse, did not
+      go near it, but, turning to the right, reached another entrance closed in
+      the same way, but of which he had the key.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Hardly had he passed the threshold when a terrible barking resounded from
+      each end of the yard. The farmer told his guest to fear nothing, and
+      showed him the dogs chained up to their kennels; both were of an
+      extraordinary size, and so savage that the sight of their master himself
+      could not quiet them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A boy, attracted by their barking, came out of the house and took the
+      farmer&rsquo;s horse. The latter began questioning him about some orders he had
+      given before he left the house, and went toward the stable to see that
+      they had been executed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus left alone, our clerk looked about him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      A lantern which the boy had placed on the ground cast a dim light over the
+      courtyard. All around seemed empty and deserted. Not a trace was visible
+      of the disorder often seen in a country farmyard, and which shows a
+      temporary cessation of the work which is soon to be resumed again. Neither
+      a cart forgotten where the horses had been unharnessed, nor sheaves of
+      corn heaped up ready for threshing, nor a plow overturned in a corner and
+      half hidden under the freshly-cut clover. The yard was swept, the barns
+      shut up and padlocked. Not a single vine creeping up the walls; everywhere
+      stone, wood, and iron!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He took up the lantern and went up to the corner of the house. Behind was
+      a second yard, where he heard the barking of a third dog, and a covered
+      wall was built in the middle of it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Our traveller looked in vain for the little farm garden, where pumpkins of
+      different sorts creep along the ground, or where the bees from the hives
+      hum under the hedges of honeysuckle and elder. Verdure and flowers were
+      nowhere to be seen. He did not even perceive the sight of a poultry-yard
+      or pigeon-house. The habitation of his host was everywhere wanting in that
+      which makes the grace and the life of the country.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The young man thought that his host must be of a very careless or a very
+      calculating disposition, to concede so little to domestic enjoyments and
+      the pleasures of the eye; and judging, in spite of himself, by what he
+      saw, he could not help feeling a distrust of his character.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      In the mean time the farmer returned from the stables, and made him enter
+      the house.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The inside of the farmhouse corresponded to its outside. The whitewashed
+      walls had no other ornament than a row of guns of all sizes; the massive
+      furniture hardly redeemed its clumsy appearance by its great solidity. The
+      cleanliness was doubtful, and the absence of all minor conveniences proved
+      that a woman&rsquo;s care was wanting in the household concerns. The young clerk
+      learned that the farmer, in fact, lived here with no one but his two sons.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Of this, indeed, the signs were plain enough. A table with the cloth laid,
+      that no one had taken the trouble to clear away, was left near the window.
+      The plates and dishes were scattered upon it without any order, and loaded
+      with potato-parings and half-picked bones. Several empty bottles emitted
+      an odor of brandy, mixed with the pungent smell of tobacco-smoke.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After seating his guest, the farmer lighted his pipe, and his two sons
+      resumed their work by the fireside. Now and then the silence was just
+      broken by a short remark, answered by a word or an exclamation; and then
+      all became as mute as before.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;From my childhood,&rdquo; said the old cashier, &ldquo;I had been very sensible to
+      the impression of outward objects; later in life, reflection had taught me
+      to study the causes of these impressions rather than to drive them away. I
+      set myself, then, to examine everything around me with great attention.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Below the guns, I had remarked on entering, some wolftraps were
+      suspended, and to one of them still hung the mangled remains of a wolf&rsquo;s
+      paw, which they had not yet taken off from the iron teeth. The blackened
+      chimneypiece was ornamented by an owl and a raven nailed on the wall,
+      their wings extended, and their throats with a huge nail through each; a
+      fox&rsquo;s skin, freshly flayed, was spread before the window; and a larder
+      hook, fixed into the principal beam, held a headless goose, whose body
+      swayed about over our heads.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;My eyes were offended by all these details, and I turned them again upon
+      my hosts. The father, who sat opposite to me, only interrupted his smoking
+      to pour out his drink, or address some reprimand to his sons. The eldest
+      of these was scraping a deep bucket, and the bloody scrapings, which he
+      threw into the fire every instant, filled the room with a disagreeable
+      fetid smell; the second son was sharpening some butcher&rsquo;s knives. I
+      learned from a word dropped from the father that they were preparing to
+      kill a pig the next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;These occupations and the whole aspect of things inside the house told of
+      such habitual coarseness in their way of living as seemed to explain,
+      while it formed the fitting counterpart of, the forbidding gloominess of
+      the outside. My astonishment by degrees changed into disgust, and my
+      disgust into uneasiness. I cannot detail the whole chain of ideas which
+      succeeded one another in my imagination; but, yielding to an impulse I
+      could not overcome, I got up, declaring I would go on my road again.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The farmer made some effort to keep me; he spoke of the rain, of the
+      darkness, and of the length of the way. I replied to all by the absolute
+      necessity there was for my being at Montargis that very night; and
+      thanking him for his brief hospitality, I set off again in a haste which
+      might well have confirmed the truth of my words to him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;However, the freshness of the night and the exercise of walking did not
+      fail to change the directions of my thoughts. When away from the objects
+      which had awakened such lively disgust in me, I felt it gradually
+      diminishing. I began to smile at the susceptibility of my feelings, and
+      then, in proportion as the rain became heavier and colder, these
+      strictures on myself assumed a tone of ill-temper. I silently accused
+      myself of the absurdity of mistaking sensation for admonitions of my
+      reason. After all, were not the farmer and his sons free to live alone, to
+      hunt, to keep dogs, and to kill a pig? Where was the crime of it? With
+      less nervous susceptibility, I should have accepted the shelter they
+      offered me, and I should now be sleeping snugly on a truss of straw,
+      instead of walking with difficulty through the cold and drizzling rain. I
+      thus continued to reproach myself, until, toward morning, I arrived at
+      Montargis, jaded and benumbed with cold.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When, however, I got up refreshed, toward the middle of the next day, I
+      instinctively returned to my first opinion. The appearance of the
+      farmhouse presented itself to me under the same repulsive colors which the
+      evening before had determined me to make my escape from it. Reason itself
+      remained silent when reviewing all those coarse details, and was forced to
+      recognize in them the indications of a low nature, or else the presence of
+      some baleful influence.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I went away the next day without being able to learn anything concerning
+      the farmer or his sons; but the recollection of my adventure remained
+      deeply fixed in my memory.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ten years afterward I was travelling in the diligence through the
+      department of the Loiret; I was leaning from the window, and looking at
+      some coppice ground now for the first time brought under cultivation, and
+      the mode of clearing which one of my travelling companions was explaining
+      to me, when my eyes fell upon a walled inclosure, with an iron-barred
+      gate. Inside it I perceived a house with all the blinds closed, and which
+      I immediately recollected; it was the farmhouse where I had been
+      sheltered. I eagerly pointed it out to my companion, and asked who lived
+      in it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Nobody just now,&rsquo; replied he.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;The Turreaus;&rsquo; said my travelling companion, looking at me; &lsquo;did you
+      know them?&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;I saw them once.&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;He shook his head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;&lsquo;Yes, yes!&rsquo; resumed he; &lsquo;for many years they lived there like wolves in
+      their den; they merely knew how to till land, kill game, and drink. The
+      father managed the house, but men living alone, without women to love
+      them, without children to soften them, and without God to make them think
+      of heaven, always turn into wild beasts, you see; so one morning the
+      eldest son, who had been drinking too much brandy, would not harness the
+      plow-horses; his father struck him with his whip, and the son, who was mad
+      drunk, shot him dead with his gun.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      16th, P.M.&mdash;I have been thinking of the story of the old cashier
+      these two days; it came so opportunely upon the reflections my dream had
+      suggested to me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Have I not an important lesson to learn from all this?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      If our sensations have an incontestable influence upon our judgments, how
+      comes it that we are so little careful of those things which awaken or
+      modify these sensations? The external world is always reflected in us as
+      in a mirror, and fills our minds with pictures which, unconsciously to
+      ourselves, become the germs of our opinions and of our rules of conduct.
+      All the objects which surround us are then, in reality, so many talismans
+      whence good and evil influences are emitted, and it is for us to choose
+      them wisely, so as to create a healthy atmosphere for our minds.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Feeling convinced of this truth, I set about making a survey of my attic.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first object on which my eyes rest is an old map of the history of the
+      principal monastery in my native province. I had unrolled it with much
+      satisfaction, and placed it on the most conspicuous part of the wall. Why
+      had I given it this place? Ought this sheet of old worm-eaten parchment to
+      be of so much value to me, who am neither an antiquary nor a scholar? Is
+      not its real importance in my sight that one of the abbots who founded it
+      bore my name, and that I shall, perchance, be able to make myself a
+      genealogical tree of it for the edification of my visitors? While writing
+      this, I feel my own blushes. Come, down with the map! let us banish it
+      into my deepest drawer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As I passed my glass, I perceived several visiting cards complacently
+      displayed in the frame. By what chance is it that there are only names
+      that make a show among them? Here is a Polish count&mdash;a retired
+      colonel&mdash;the deputy of my department. Quick, quick, into the fire
+      with these proofs of vanity! and let us put this card in the handwriting
+      of our office-boy, this direction for cheap dinners, and the receipt of
+      the broker where I bought my last armchair, in their place. These
+      indications of my poverty will serve, as Montaigne says, &lsquo;mater ma
+      superbe&rsquo;, and will always make me recollect the modesty in which the
+      dignity of the lowly consists.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I have stopped before the prints hanging upon the wall. This large and
+      smiling Pomona, seated on sheaves of corn, and whose basket is overflowing
+      with fruit, only produces thoughts of joy and plenty; I was looking at her
+      the other day, when I fell asleep denying such a thing as misery. Let us
+      give her as companion this picture of Winter, in which everything tells of
+      sorrow and suffering: one picture will modify the other.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And this Happy Family of Greuze&rsquo;s! What joy in the children&rsquo;s eyes! What
+      sweet repose in the young woman&rsquo;s face! What religious feeling in the
+      grandfather&rsquo;s countenance! May God preserve their happiness to them! but
+      let us hang by its side the picture of this mother, who weeps over an
+      empty cradle. Human life has two faces, both of which we must dare to
+      contemplate in their turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Let me hide, too, these ridiculous monsters which ornament my
+      chimneypiece. Plato has said that &ldquo;the beautiful is nothing else than the
+      visible form of the good.&rdquo; If it is so, the ugly should be the visible
+      form of the evil, and, by constantly beholding it, the mind insensibly
+      deteriorates.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But above all, in order to cherish the feelings of kindness and pity, let
+      me hang at the foot of my bed this affecting picture of the Last Sleep!
+      Never have I been able to look at it without feeling my heart touched.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      An old woman, clothed in rags, is lying by a roadside; her stick is at her
+      feet, and her head rests upon a stone; she has fallen asleep; her hands
+      are clasped; murmuring a prayer of her childhood, she sleeps her last
+      sleep, she dreams her last dream!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      She sees herself, again a strong and happy child, keeping the sheep on the
+      common, gathering the berries from the hedges, singing, curtsying to
+      passers-by, and making the sign of the cross when the first star appears
+      in the heavens! Happy time, filled with fragrance and sunshine! She wants
+      nothing yet, for she is ignorant of what there is to wish for.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But see her grown up; the time is come for working bravely: she must cut
+      the corn, thresh the wheat, carry the bundles of flowering clover or
+      branches of withered leaves to the farm. If her toil is hard, hope shines
+      like a sun over everything and it wipes the drops of sweat away. The
+      growing girl already sees that life is a task, but she still sings as she
+      fulfills it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      By-and-bye the burden becomes heavier; she is a wife, she is a mother! She
+      must economize the bread of to-day, have her eye upon the morrow, take
+      care of the sick, and sustain the feeble; she must act, in short, that
+      part of an earthly Providence, so easy when God gives us his aid, so hard
+      when he forsakes us. She is still strong, but she is anxious; she sings no
+      longer!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yet a few years, and all is overcast. The husband&rsquo;s health is broken; his
+      wife sees him pine away by the now fireless hearth; cold and hunger finish
+      what sickness had begun; he dies, and his widow sits on the ground by the
+      coffin provided by the charity of others, pressing her two half-naked
+      little ones in her arms. She dreads the future, she weeps, and she droops
+      her head.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At last the future has come; the children are grown up, but they are no
+      longer with her. Her son is fighting under his country&rsquo;s flag, and his
+      sister is gone. Both have been lost to her for a long time&mdash;perhaps
+      forever; and the strong girl, the brave wife, the courageous mother, is
+      henceforth only a poor old beggar-woman, without a family, and without a
+      home! She weeps no more, sorrow has subdued her; she surrenders, and waits
+      for death.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Death, that faithful friend of the wretched, is come: not hideous and with
+      mockery, as superstition represents, but beautiful, smiling, and crowned
+      with stars! The gentle phantom stoops to the beggar; its pale lips murmur
+      a few airy words, which announce to her the end of her labors; a peaceful
+      joy comes over the aged beggarwoman, and, leaning on the shoulder of the
+      great Deliverer, she has passed unconsciously from her last earthly sleep
+      to her eternal rest.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Lie there, thou poor way-wearied woman! The leaves will serve thee for a
+      winding-sheet. Night will shed her tears of dew over thee, and the birds
+      will sing sweetly by thy remains. Thy visit here below will not have left
+      more trace than their flight through the air; thy name is already
+      forgotten, and the only legacy thou hast to leave is the hawthorn stick
+      lying forgotten at thy feet!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Well! some one will take it up&mdash;some soldier of that great human host
+      which is scattered abroad by misery or by vice; for thou art not an
+      exception, thou art an instance; and under the same sun which shines so
+      pleasantly upon all, in the midst of these flowering vineyards, this ripe
+      corn, and these wealthy cities, entire generations suffer, succeed each
+      other, and still bequeath to each the beggar&rsquo;s stick!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The sight of this sad picture shall make me more grateful for what God has
+      given me, and more compassionate for those whom he has treated with less
+      indulgence; it shall be a lesson and a subject for reflection for me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! if we would watch for everything that might improve and instruct us;
+      if the arrangements of our daily life were so disposed as to be a constant
+      school for our minds! but oftenest we take no heed of them. Man is an
+      eternal mystery to himself; his own person is a house into which he never
+      enters, and of which he studies the outside alone. Each of us need have
+      continually before him the famous inscription which once instructed
+      Socrates, and which was engraved on the walls of Delphi by an unknown
+      hand:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+             KNOW THYSELF.
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012">
+      <!--  H2 anchor --> </a>
+    </p>
+    <div style="height: 4em;">
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </div>
+    <h2>
+      CHAPTER XII. THE END OF THE YEAR
+    </h2>
+    <h3>
+      December 30th, P.M.
+    </h3>
+    <p>
+      I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had kept
+      me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was making
+      efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light
+      struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at times
+      I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my ideas, and I
+      floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental wandering and
+      consciousness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from the
+      top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. We
+      distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on
+      the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden
+      with mist, and all is confused and indistinct.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed
+      my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to
+      separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the
+      other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one
+      another.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath
+      the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female figure
+      appears before me!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of
+      Eve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had
+      the pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery of a
+      thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues, and
+      held a withered garland in her hand.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and what
+      brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following the movements of
+      the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to
+      receive your thanks and your farewell.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter
+      resentment.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you want thanks,&rdquo; cried I; &ldquo;but first let me know what for?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have
+      taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by
+      inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less
+      warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You have
+      planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer
+      flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old
+      age!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also diminished
+      the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm; she is become
+      more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took in the whole of
+      mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her nearsighted, and
+      now she hardly sees beyond herself! That is what you have done for my
+      spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see to what grief,
+      neglect, and misery you have reduced it! For the many days that the fever
+      has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care of this home in which
+      I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closets empty, my bookcase,
+      stripped, all my poor treasures lost through negligence or dishonesty?
+      Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I fed? All are gone! my attic
+      is despoiled, silent and solitary! As it is only for the last few moments
+      that I have returned to a consciousness of what surrounds me, I am even
+      ignorant who has nursed me during my long illness! Doubtless some
+      hireling, who will leave when all my means of recompense are exhausted!
+      And what will my masters, for whom I am bound to work, have said to my
+      absence? At this time of the year, when business is most pressing, can
+      they have done without me, will they even have tried to do so? Perhaps I
+      am already superseded in the humble situation by which I earned my daily
+      bread! And it is thou-thou alone, wicked daughter of Time&mdash;who hast
+      brought all these misfortunes upon me: strength, health, comfort, work&mdash;thou
+      hast taken all from me. I have only received outrage and loss from thee,
+      and yet thou darest to claim my gratitude!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and may
+      I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that of a
+      king:
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     &ldquo;&lsquo;Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here
+     cannot live again.&rsquo;&rdquo;
+ 
+       .......................
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized the
+      doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of
+      the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox. I have
+      since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?&rdquo; said M. Lambert, in
+      his half-joking, half-scolding way. &ldquo;What the deuce of a hurry we were in!
+      It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then you had given me up, doctor?&rdquo; asked I, rather alarmed.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Not at all,&rdquo; replied the old physician. &ldquo;We can&rsquo;t give up what we have
+      not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope. We are but
+      instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with
+      Ambroise Pare: &lsquo;I tend him, God cures him!&rdquo;&rsquo; 
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;May He be blessed then, as well as you,&rdquo; cried I; &ldquo;and may my health come
+      back with the new year!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Begin by asking yourself for it,&rdquo; resumed he, bluntly. &ldquo;God has given it
+      you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for you.
+      One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us like the
+      rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the matter.
+      Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve to be
+      well.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! you think that I am joking,&rdquo; resumed he, raising his voice; &ldquo;but tell
+      me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he gives to
+      his business? Do you economize your strength as you economize your money?
+      Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the same care as
+      extravagance or foolish speculations in the other? Do you keep as regular
+      accounts of your mode of living as you do of your income? Do you consider
+      every evening what has been wholesome or unwholesome for you, with the
+      same care that you bring to the examination of your expenditure? You may
+      smile; but have you not brought this illness on yourself by a thousand
+      indiscretions?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these
+      indiscretions. The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to reckon
+      upon them one by one.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Primo,&rdquo; cried he, &ldquo;want of exercise. You live here like a mouse in a
+      cheese, without air, motion, or change. Consequently, the blood circulates
+      badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do not claim their
+      share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain grows weary.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Secundo. Irregular food. Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave who
+      must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen revenge,
+      like all slaves.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Tertio. Sitting up late. Instead of using the night for sleep, you spend
+      it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk! At the
+      time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through these
+      nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for them the
+      next day.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quarto. Luxurious habits. Shut up in your attic, you insensibly surround
+      yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences. You must have list for
+      your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an easy-chair
+      stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the first sign of cold,
+      and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these precautions, the least
+      draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give you no rest, and you must
+      wear spectacles to support the light of day. You have thought you were
+      acquiring comforts, and you have only contracted infirmities.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Quinto&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Ah! enough, enough, doctor!&rdquo; cried I. &ldquo;Pray, do not carry your
+      examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my
+      pleasures.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;You see,&rdquo; said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, &ldquo;you would
+      escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry&mdash;a proof that you are
+      guilty. &lsquo;Habemus confitentem reum&rsquo;! But at least, my friend, do not go on
+      laying the blame on Time, like an old woman.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his
+      function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the
+      main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we
+      should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him
+      finish the examination he had begun.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But is there not another of more importance&mdash;that which concerns the
+      health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of
+      preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of
+      God&rsquo;s soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall I
+      be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO IS
+      in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast erred?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the
+      lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and
+      have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which had
+      no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men solely
+      because they are men&mdash;I have loved them for their endowments; I have
+      contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and my
+      sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd, which I
+      ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is composed of my
+      brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as much indifference as
+      if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with him who rolls in riches
+      and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and yet, vain of my trifling
+      knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind&mdash;I scorn the poverty of
+      intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit for a gift which I did
+      not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of fortune into a weapon with
+      which to attack others.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and
+      raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in the
+      envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the contemptuous
+      pride of knowledge.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Alas! I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the
+      magician of Bagdad.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind,
+      while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight. The latter, proud of
+      his own advantages, laughed at his brother&rsquo;s blindness, and disdained him
+      as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;To what purpose,&rdquo; said he, &ldquo;since the gods have put nothing in common
+      between us? For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes
+      and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an obscure
+      abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of an invisible
+      world. Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the pleasures of
+      light to those upon whom the day-star shines.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry
+      bitterly. His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried to
+      console him by promising to give him whatever he desired.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Can you give me sight?&rdquo; asked the child.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Fate does not permit it,&rdquo; said the magician.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Then,&rdquo; cried the blind boy, eagerly, &ldquo;I ask you to put out the sun!&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of
+      some one of my brothers who does not see?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought! How
+      many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I
+      pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not done
+      without any sense of my responsibility! The greater part of men harm one
+      another for the sake of doing something. We laugh at the honor of one, and
+      compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who saunters along
+      a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying the most beautiful
+      flowers.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of
+      some men is created. It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious
+      mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every
+      passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes,
+      without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a
+      gibbet. Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up
+      there to view?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which the
+      Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths which
+      wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my
+      attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance to
+      a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he
+      described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and in a
+      voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his eyes every
+      now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it appeared to me
+      that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and that she was
+      listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my heart. Two or
+      three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the attempt to justify
+      herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again immediately with his
+      loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his threatening evolutions in
+      the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly endeavoring to catch a word
+      as he passed, until he disappeared behind the hill.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen
+      tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though they
+      have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose rather to
+      be their tormentors.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these
+      crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they
+      deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the
+      path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in
+      place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an
+      angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only
+      an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining the
+      management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my faubourg
+      I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every finger pointed in
+      the same direction to a distant column of flame. A manufactory had taken
+      fire, and everybody was rushing forward to assist in extinguishing it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was
+      awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my
+      way.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from
+      selfishness and cowardice.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      But what! have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties
+      which bind us to our fellowmen? Is this the first time I have avoided
+      paying society what I owe it? Have I not always behaved to my companions
+      with injustice, and like the lion? Have I not claimed successively every
+      share? If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little
+      portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every
+      means. How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up
+      at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that
+      compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable! How often
+      have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice harden
+      my heart against them.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor
+      man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves!
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Oh! let us not go farther&mdash;let us not go farther! I interrupted the
+      doctor&rsquo;s examination, but how much sadder is this one! We pity the
+      diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the figure
+      of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and sometimes
+      sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and his
+      great scissors. I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful exclamation,
+      and came near me.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! so the bullet is found again!&rdquo; cried he, taking my two hands into
+      the maimed one which was left him; &ldquo;it has not been without trouble, I can
+      tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in. I have
+      seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my hospital
+      days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was on fire in
+      his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines; but the
+      third day it all went out of itself. But with you it has lasted
+      twenty-eight days&mdash;as long as one of the Little Corporal&rsquo;s
+      campaigns.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;I am not mistaken then; you were near me?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Well! I had only to cross the passage. This left hand has not made you a
+      bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah! you did not know what hand gave
+      you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being
+      drowned&mdash;for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to speak,
+      pressed his hand against my breast. He saw my emotion, and hastened to put
+      an end to it.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw your
+      rations again,&rdquo; resumed he gayly; &ldquo;four meals, like the German meinherrs&mdash;nothing
+      more! The doctor is your house steward.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;We must find the cook, too,&rdquo; replied I, with a smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;She is found,&rdquo; said the veteran.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Who is she?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Genevieve.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;The fruit-woman?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear her
+      sparing either butter or trouble. As long as life and death were fighting
+      for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down stairs to
+      learn which way the battle went. And, stay, I am sure this is she.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Oh, well!&rdquo; continued he, &ldquo;it is Mother Millot, our portress, another of
+      your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you. Come
+      in, Mother Millot&mdash;come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning, and
+      ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      The portress came in, quite delighted. She brought my linen, washed and
+      mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her
+      sailor son, and kept for great occasions. I would have thanked her, but
+      the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the doctor
+      had forbidden me to speak. I saw her arrange everything in my drawers, the
+      neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand had evidently been
+      there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable disorder consequent on
+      sickness.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by
+      Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the same
+      time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to be
+      convalescent. The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she
+      herself wished to see me eat.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her. At every detail
+      she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her to be
+      less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper. They made a circle around me
+      to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied by their
+      expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness. Never had the King of
+      France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among the
+      spectators.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier,
+      entered in his turn.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him. How would the
+      heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me?
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by
+      me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a
+      word about our masters. I could not endure this uncertainty any longer.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;And the Messieurs Durmer,&rdquo; asked I, hesitatingly, &ldquo;how have they taken&mdash;the
+      interruption to my work?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;There has been no interruption,&rdquo; replied the old clerk, quietly.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;What do you mean?&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as
+      usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+    <p>
+      This was too much. After so many instances of affection, this filled up
+      the measure. I could not restrain my tears.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been
+      acknowledged by them a hundredfold! I had sown a little seed, and every
+      grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf. Ah! this
+      completes the lesson the doctor gave me. If it is true that the diseases,
+      whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and our vices,
+      sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having done our duty.
+      Every one of us, with God&rsquo;s help, and within the narrow limits of human
+      capability, himself makes his own disposition, character, and permanent
+      condition.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and my
+      birds, and they are my only companions. The setting sun reddens my
+      half-closed curtains with its last rays. My brain is clear, and my heart
+      lighter. A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that
+      happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand
+      changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me;
+      but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile.
+    </p>
+    <p>
+      &ldquo;Adieu, beloved year! whom I but now unjustly accused. That which I have
+      suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through which
+      God had marked out my road&mdash;a ground where I had reaped the harvest I
+      had sown. I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those hours of
+      happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for the suffering
+      thou hast seen me endure. Neither happiness nor suffering came from thee;
+      but thou hast been the scene for them. Descend again then, in peace, into
+      eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me experience in the place of
+      youth, sweet memories instead of past time, and gratitude as payment for
+      good offices.&rdquo;
+     </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+     ETEXT EDITOR&rsquo;S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     Always to mistake feeling for evidence
+     Ambroise Pare: &lsquo;I tend him, God cures him!&rsquo; 
+     Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws
+     Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures
+     Brought them up to poverty
+     But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
+     Carn-ival means, literally, &ldquo;farewell to flesh!&rdquo;
+      Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor&rsquo;s housekeeping
+     Contemptuous pride of knowledge
+     Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
+     Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
+     Did not think the world was so great
+     Do they understand what makes them so gay?
+     Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community
+     Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness
+     Every one keeps his holidays in his own way
+     Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought
+     Favorite and conclusive answer of his class&mdash;&ldquo;I know&rdquo;
+      Fear of losing a moment from business
+     Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent
+     Fortune sells what we believe she gives
+     Her kindness, which never sleeps
+     Houses are vessels which take mere passengers
+     Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply
+     I make it a rule never to have any hope
+     Ignorant of what there is to wish for
+     Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance
+     Make himself a name: he becomes public property
+     Moderation is the great social virtue
+     More stir than work
+     My patronage has become her property
+     No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give
+     Not desirous to teach goodness
+     Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+     Our tempers are like an opera-glass
+     Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress
+     Power of necessity
+     Prisoners of work
+     Progress can never be forced on without danger
+     Question is not to discover what will suit us
+     Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget
+     Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival
+     Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them
+     Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little
+     So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las
+     Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims
+     The happiness of the wise man costs but little
+     The man in power gives up his peace
+     Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation
+     Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils
+     We do not understand that others may live on their own account
+     We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty
+     What have you done with the days God granted you
+     What a small dwelling joy can live
+     You may know the game by the lair
+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+    <hr />
+    <p>
+      <br /> <br />
+    </p>
+<pre xml:space="preserve">
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An &ldquo;Attic&rdquo; Philosopher, Complete
+by Emile Souvestre
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+</pre>
+    <p>
+      <br /><br /><br /><br />
+    </p>
+  </body>
+</html>
diff --git a/3999.txt b/3999.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..3954228
--- /dev/null
+++ b/3999.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,5322 @@
+Project Gutenberg's An "Attic" Philosopher, Complete, by Emile Souvestre
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: An "Attic" Philosopher, Complete
+
+Author: Emile Souvestre
+
+Last Updated: March 4, 2009
+Release Date: October 30, 2004 [EBook #3999]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE ***
+
+
+
+Produced by David Widger
+
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+
+(Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+
+By EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+
+With a Preface by JOSEPH BERTRAND, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+
+EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+No one succeeds in obtaining a prominent place in literature, or in
+surrounding himself with a faithful and steady circle of admirers drawn
+from the fickle masses of the public, unless he possesses originality,
+constant variety, and a distinct personality. It is quite possible to
+gain for a moment a few readers by imitating some original feature
+in another; but these soon vanish and the writer remains alone and
+forgotten. Others, again, without belonging to any distinct group
+of authors, having found their standard in themselves, moralists and
+educators at the same time, have obtained undying recognition.
+
+Of the latter class, though little known outside of France, is Emile
+Souvestre, who was born in Morlaix, April 15, 1806, and died at Paris
+July 5, 1854. He was the son of a civil engineer, was educated at
+the college of Pontivy, and intended to follow his father's career by
+entering the Polytechnic School. His father, however, died in 1823, and
+Souvestre matriculated as a law-student at Rennes. But the young student
+soon devoted himself entirely to literature. His first essay, a tragedy,
+'Le Siege de Missolonghi' (1828), was a pronounced failure. Disheartened
+and disgusted he left Paris and established himself first as a lawyer
+in Morlaix. Then he became proprietor of a newspaper, and was afterward
+appointed a professor in Brest and in Mulhouse. In 1836 he contributed
+to the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' some sketches of life in Brittany, which
+obtained a brilliant success. Souvestre was soon made editor of La
+Revue de Paris, and in consequence early found a publisher for his first
+novel, 'L'Echelle de Femmes', which, as was the case with his second
+work, Riche et Pauvre', met with a very favorable reception. His
+reputation was now made, and between this period and his death he gave
+to France about sixty volumes--tales, novels, essays, history, and
+drama.
+
+A double purpose was always very conspicuous in his books: he aspired to
+the role of a moralist and educator, and was likewise a most impressive
+painter of the life, character, and morals of the inhabitants of
+Brittany.
+
+The most significant of his books are perhaps 'Les Derniers Bretons
+(1835-1837, 4 vols.), Pierre Landais (1843, 2 vols.), Le Foyer Breton
+(1844, 2 vols.), Un Philosophe sons les Toits, crowned by the Academy
+(1850), Confessions d'un Ouvrier (1851), Recits et Souvenirs (1853),
+Souvenirs d'un Vieillard (1854); also La Bretagne Pittoresque (1845),
+and, finally, Causeries Historiques et Litteraires (1854, 2 vols.)'.
+His comedies deserve honorable mention: 'Henri Hamelin, L'Oncle Baptiste
+(1842), La Parisienne, Le Mousse, etc'. In 1848, Souvestre was appointed
+professor of the newly created school of administration, mostly devoted
+to popular lectures. He held this post till 1853, lecturing partly in
+Paris, partly in Switzerland.
+
+His death, when comparatively young, left a distinct gap in the literary
+world. A life like his could not be extinguished without general sorrow.
+Although he was unduly modest, and never aspired to the role of a
+beacon-light in literature, always seeking to remain in obscurity,
+the works of Emile Souvestre must be placed in the first rank by their
+morality and by their instructive character. They will always command
+the entire respect and applause of mankind. And thus it happens that,
+like many others, he was only fully appreciated after his death.
+
+Even those of his 'confreres' who did not seem to esteem him, when
+alive, suddenly found out that they had experienced a great loss in
+his demise. They expressed it in emotional panegyrcs; contemporaneous
+literature discovered that virtue had flown from its bosom, and the
+French Academy, which had at its proper time crowned his 'Philosophe
+sons les Toits' as a work contributing supremely to morals, kept his
+memory green by bestowing on his widow the "Prix Lambert," designed for
+the "families of authors who by their integrity, and by the probity
+of their efforts have well deserved this token from the Republique des
+Lettres."
+
+                    JOSEPH BERTRAND
+                  de 'Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER I. NEW-YEAR'S GIFTS
+
+January 1st
+
+The day of the month came into my mind as soon as I awoke. Another year
+is separated from the chain of ages, and drops into the gulf of the
+past! The crowd hasten to welcome her young sister. But while all looks
+are turned toward the future, mine revert to the past. Everyone smiles
+upon the new queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time
+has just wrapped in her winding-sheet. The past year!--at least I know
+what she was, and what she has given me; while this one comes surrounded
+by all the forebodings of the unknown. What does she hide in the clouds
+that mantle her? Is it the storm or the sunshine? Just now it rains, and
+I feel my mind as gloomy as the sky. I have a holiday today; but what
+can one do on a rainy day? I walk up and down my attic out of temper,
+and I determine to light my fire.
+
+Unfortunately the matches are bad, the chimney smokes, the wood goes
+out! I throw down my bellows in disgust, and sink into my old armchair.
+
+In truth, why should I rejoice to see the birth of a new year? All those
+who are already in the streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces--do
+they understand what makes them so gay? Do they even know what is the
+meaning of this holiday, or whence comes the custom of New-Year's gifts?
+
+Here my mind pauses to prove to itself its superiority over that of the
+vulgar. I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity, and
+I bring together all the evidence which my knowledge can produce.
+
+(The old Romans divided the year into ten months only; it was Numa
+Pompilius who added January and February. The former took its name
+from Janus, to whom it was dedicated. As it opened the new year, they
+surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of
+visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year's gifts.
+The presents given by the Romans were symbolic. They consisted of dry
+figs, dates, honeycomb, as emblems of "the sweetness of the auspices
+under which the year should begin its course," and a small piece of
+money called stips, which foreboded riches.)
+
+Here I close the parenthesis, and return to my ill-humor. The
+little speech I have just addressed to myself has restored me my
+self-satisfaction, but made me more dissatisfied with others. I could
+now enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning's
+milk, and the pot of preserves is empty! Anyone else would have been
+vexed: as for me, I affect the most supreme indifference. There remains
+a hard crust, which I break by main strength, and which I carelessly
+nibble, as a man far above the vanities of the world and of fresh rolls.
+
+However, I do not know why my thoughts should grow more gloomy by
+reason of the difficulties of mastication. I once read the story of
+an Englishman who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea
+without sugar. There are hours in life when the most trifling cross
+takes the form of a calamity. Our tempers are like an opera-glass, which
+makes the object small or great according to the end you look through.
+
+Usually, the prospect that opens out before my window delights me. It is
+a mountain-range of roofs, with ridges crossing, interlacing, and piled
+on one another, and upon which tall chimneys raise their peaks. It was
+but yesterday that they had an Alpine aspect to me, and I waited for the
+first snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles
+and stone flues. The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem
+no more than miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back
+yard; the smoke, which rises in light clouds, instead of making me
+dream of the panting of Vesuvius, reminds me of kitchen preparations
+and dishwater; and lastly, the telegraph, that I see far off on the old
+tower of Montmartre, has the effect of a vile gallows stretching its
+arms over the city.
+
+My eyes, thus hurt by all they meet, fall upon the great man's house
+which faces my attic.
+
+The influence of New-Year's Day is visible there. The servants have an
+air of eagerness proportioned to the value of their New-Year's gifts,
+received or expected. I see the master of the house crossing the court
+with the morose look of a man who is forced to be generous; and
+the visitors increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers,
+bandboxes, or toys. Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new
+carriage, drawn by thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps.
+They are, without doubt, the New-Year's gift presented to the mistress
+of the house by her husband; for she comes herself to look at the new
+equipage. Very soon she gets into it with a little girl, all streaming
+with laces, feathers and velvets, and loaded with parcels which she goes
+to distribute as New-Year's gifts. The door is shut, the windows are
+drawn up, the carriage sets off.
+
+Thus all the world are exchanging good wishes and presents to-day. I
+alone have nothing to give or to receive. Poor Solitary! I do not even
+know one chosen being for whom I might offer a prayer.
+
+Then let my wishes for a happy New Year go and seek out all my unknown
+friends--lost in the multitude which murmurs like the ocean at my feet!
+
+To you first, hermits in cities, for whom death and poverty have
+created a solitude in the midst of the crowd! unhappy laborers, who are
+condemned to toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in silence
+and desertion, and whom God has withdrawn from the intoxicating pangs of
+love and friendship!
+
+To you, fond dreamers, who pass through life with your eyes turned
+toward some polar star, while you tread with indifference over the rich
+harvests of reality!
+
+To you, honest fathers, who lengthen out the evening to maintain your
+families! to you, poor widows, weeping and working by a cradle! to you,
+young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large
+enough to lead through it the wife of your choice! to you, all brave
+soldiers of work and of self-sacrifice!
+
+To you, lastly, whatever your title and your name, who love good, who
+pity the suffering; who walk through the world like the symbolical
+Virgin of Byzantium, with both arms open to the human race!
+
+Here I am suddenly interrupted by loud and increasing chirpings. I look
+about me: my window is surrounded with sparrows picking up the crumbs of
+bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof. At this
+sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart. I deceived myself
+just now, when I complained that I had nothing to give: thanks to me,
+the sparrows of this part of the town will have their New-Year's gifts!
+
+Twelve o'clock.--A knock at my door; a poor girl comes in, and greets
+me by name. At first I do not recollect her; but she looks at me, and
+smiles. Ah! it is Paulette! But it is almost a year since I have seen
+her, and Paulette is no longer the same: the other day she was a child,
+now she is almost a young woman.
+
+Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has always the same
+open and straightforward look--the same mouth, smiling at every word,
+as if to court your sympathy--the same voice, somewhat timid, yet
+expressing fondness. Paulette is not pretty--she is even thought plain;
+as for me, I think her charming. Perhaps that is not on her account, but
+on my own. Paulette appears to me as one of my happiest recollections.
+
+It was the evening of a public holiday. Our principal buildings were
+illuminated with festoons of fire, a thousand flags waved in the night
+winds, and the fireworks had just shot forth their spouts of flame into
+the midst of the Champ de Mars. Suddenly, one of those unaccountable
+alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd:
+they cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the
+frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive struggles. I
+escaped from the confusion by a miracle, and was hastening away, when
+the cries of a perishing child arrested me: I reentered that human
+chaos, and, after unheard-of exertions, I brought Paulette out of it at
+the peril of my life.
+
+That was two years ago: since then I had not seen the child again but
+at long intervals, and I had almost forgotten her; but Paulette's memory
+was that of a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year
+to offer me her wishes for my happiness. She brought me, besides, a
+wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted and reared it: it was
+something that belonged wholly to herself; for it was by her care, her
+perseverance, and her patience, that she had obtained it.
+
+The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette, who is a
+bandbox-maker, had put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented
+with arabesques. These might have been in better taste, but I did not
+feel the attention and good-will the less.
+
+This unexpected present, the little girl's modest blushes, the
+compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of
+mist which had gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed
+from the leaden tints of evening to the brightest colors of dawn. I made
+Paulette sit down, and questioned her with a light heart.
+
+At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon
+the tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted with short
+interjections her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a
+hard life. She was left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister,
+and lives with an old grandmother, who has "brought them up to poverty,"
+as she always calls it.
+
+However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her little sister
+Perrine begins to use the needle, and her brother Henry is apprentice
+to a printer. All would go well if it were not for losses and want of
+work--if it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which
+grow larger, and for the winter, when you cannot get sunshine for
+nothing. Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that
+her wood costs too much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that
+a fagot makes no more show in it than a match; it is so near the roof
+that the wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the
+hearth; so they have left off using it. Henceforth they must be content
+with an earthen chafing-dish, upon which they cook their meals. The
+grandmother had often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the
+broker's close by; but he asked seven francs for it, and the times are
+too hard for such an expense: the family, therefore, resign themselves
+to cold for economy!
+
+As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness
+and low spirits. The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker
+created within me a wish that soon became a plan. I questioned her about
+her daily occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must
+go, with her brother, her sister, and grandmother, to the different
+people for whom they work. My plan was immediately settled. I told the
+child that I would go to see her in the evening, and I sent her away
+with fresh thanks.
+
+I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid
+it welcome; the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and
+the day, which began so loweringly, had become bright. I sang as I moved
+about my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out.
+
+Three o'clock.--All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-doctor; he
+will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new.
+At five o'clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette's
+grandmother's room.
+
+Midnight.--All has gone off well. At the hour agreed upon, I was at the
+old bandbox-maker's; she was still out. My Piedmontese
+
+   [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named "Piedmontese" or "Savoyard,"
+   as they usually come from that country.]
+
+fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace,
+taken from my winter stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself
+with walking, or by going to bed earlier.
+
+My heart beat at every step that was heard on the staircase; I trembled
+lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil
+my intended surprise. But no!--see everything ready: the lighted stove
+murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of
+oil for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney-doctor is gone. Now
+my fear lest they should come is changed into impatience at their not
+coming. At last I hear children's voices; here they are: they push open
+the door and rush in--but they all stop in astonishment.
+
+At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there
+like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost
+frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of
+the grandmother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finishes the
+explanation. Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks!
+
+But the wonders are not yet ended. The little sister opens the oven, and
+discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on
+the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the
+basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
+rolls.
+
+Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never
+seen such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is
+a complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had
+brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
+the enjoyment.
+
+What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which
+waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old
+woman herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I
+have always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their
+wretchedness. Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain
+of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich
+are more difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit
+before they will consent to be happy.
+
+The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history
+of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang
+an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of
+the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At
+last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part
+of the happy family.
+
+I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure
+enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much
+comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year's Day will come amiss
+to me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and
+nothing to receive.
+
+As I came in, I met my rich neighbor's new equipage. She, too, had
+just returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the
+carriage-step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur "At last!"
+
+I, when I left Paulette's family, said "So soon!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II. THE CARNIVAL
+
+February 20th
+
+What a noise out of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts and
+cries? Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the
+maskers are passing.
+
+Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian
+festivals of the pagan times, but it has changed the names. That which
+it has given to these "days of liberty" announces the ending of the
+feasts, and the month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means,
+literally, "farewell to flesh!" It is a forty days' farewell to the
+"blessed pullets and fat hams," so celebrated by Pantagruel's minstrel.
+Man prepares for privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thoroughly
+before he begins to repent.
+
+Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some one of
+these mad festivals? Must we believe that it requires such an effort
+for men to be reasonable, that the weaker ones have need of rest at
+intervals? The monks of La Trappe, who are condemned to silence by their
+rule, are allowed to speak once in a month, and on this day they all
+talk at once from the rising to the setting of the sun.
+
+Perhaps it is the same in the world. As we are obliged all the year to
+be decent, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a long restraint
+during the Carnival. It is a door opened to the incongruous fancies and
+wishes that have hitherto been crowded back into a corner of our brain.
+For a moment the slaves become the masters, as in the days of the
+Saturnalia, and all is given up to the "fools of the family."
+
+The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase--on
+foot, in carriages, and on horseback. It is now who can attract the most
+attention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exciting curiosity
+or envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to the
+employments and troubles of yesterday.
+
+Alas! thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders;
+our whole life is often but an unsightly Carnival! And yet man has need
+of holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart. Can
+he not have them, then, with these coarse pleasures? Economists have
+been long inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of the
+human race. Ah! if I could only discover the best disposal of its
+leisure! It is easy enough to find it work; but who will find it
+relaxation? Work supplies the daily bread; but it is cheerfulness that
+gives it a relish. O philosophers! go in quest of pleasure! find us
+amusements without brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word,
+invent a Carnival that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one.
+
+Three o'clock.--I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire. As
+this is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too. So
+I light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup of
+the coffee that my portress's son brought from the Levant, and I look in
+my bookcase for one of my favorite authors.
+
+First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are
+too fond of talking slang:--Voltaire; but he disheartens men by always
+bantering them:--Moliere; but he hinders one's laughter by making one
+think:--Lesage; let us stop at him. Being profound rather than grave, he
+preaches virtue while ridiculing vice; if bitterness is sometimes to be
+found in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees the
+miseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly
+tricks without hating it.
+
+Let us call up all the heroes of his book.... Gil Blas, Fabrice,
+Sangrado, the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio!
+Ye gay or graceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude;
+bring hither for my amusement the world-carnival, of which you are the
+brilliant maskers!
+
+Unfortunately, at the very moment I made this invocation, I recollected
+I had a letter to write which could not be put off. One of my attic
+neighbors came yesterday to ask me to do it. He is a cheerful old man,
+and has a passion for pictures and prints. He comes home almost every
+day with a drawing or painting--probably of little value; for I know he
+lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows
+his poverty. His only son, who was married in England, is just dead,
+and his widow--left without any means, and with an old mother and a
+child--had written to beg for a home. M. Antoine asked me first to
+translate the letter, and then to write a refusal. I had promised that
+he should have this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our
+promises.
+
+The sheet of "Bath" paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the
+ink, and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I
+perceive that I have not my dictionary. Now, a Parisian who would speak
+English without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings;
+the ground trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step. I run
+then to the bookbinder's, where I left my Johnson, who lives close by in
+the square.
+
+The door is half open; I hear low groans; I enter without knocking, and
+I see the bookbinder by the bedside of his fellow-lodger. This latter
+has a violent fever and delirium. Pierre looks at him perplexed and out
+of humor. I learn from him that his comrade was not able to get up in
+the morning, and that since then he has become worse every hour.
+
+I ask whether they have sent for a doctor.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed!" replied Pierre, roughly; "one must have money
+in one's pocket for that, and this fellow has only debts instead of
+savings."
+
+"But you," said I, rather astonished; "are you not his friend?"
+
+"Friend!" interrupted the bookbinder. "Yes, as much as the shaft-horse
+is friend to the leader--on condition that each will take his share of
+the draught, and eat his feed by himself."
+
+"You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?"
+
+"Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I'm going to the ball."
+
+"You mean to leave him alone?"
+
+"Well! must I miss a party of pleasure at Courtville--[A Parisian summer
+resort.]--because this fellow is lightheaded?" asked Pierre, sharply. "I
+have promised to meet some friends at old Desnoyer's. Those who are sick
+may take their broth; my physic is white wine."
+
+So saying, he untied a bundle, out of which he took the fancy costume of
+a waterman, and proceeded to dress himself in it.
+
+In vain I tried to awaken some fellow-feeling for the unfortunate man
+who lay groaning there close by him; being entirely taken up with the
+thoughts of his expected pleasure, Pierre would hardly so much as hear
+me. At last his coarse selfishness provoked me. I began reproaching
+instead of remonstrating with him, and I declared him responsible for
+the consequences which such a desertion must bring upon the sick man.
+
+At this the bookbinder, who was just going, stopped with an oath,
+and stamped his foot. "Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for
+footbaths, pray?"
+
+"You must not leave your comrade to die without help!" I replied.
+
+"Let him go to the hospital, then!"
+
+"How can he by himself?"
+
+Pierre seemed to make up his mind.
+
+"Well, I'm going to take him," resumed he; "besides, I shall get rid of
+him sooner. Come, get up, comrade!" He shook his comrade, who had not
+taken off his clothes. I observed that he was too weak to walk, but the
+bookbinder would not listen: he made him get up, and half dragged,
+half supported him to the lodge of the porter, who ran for a hackney
+carriage. I saw the sick man get into it, almost fainting, with the
+impatient waterman; and they both set off, one perhaps to die, the other
+to dine at Courtville Gardens!
+
+Six o'clock.--I have been to knock at my neighbor's door, who opened it
+himself; and I have given him his letter, finished at last, and directed
+to his son's widow. M. Antoine thanked me gratefully, and made me sit
+down.
+
+It was the first time I had been into the attic of the old amateur.
+Curtains stained with damp and hanging down in rags, a cold stove, a bed
+of straw, two broken chairs, composed all the furniture. At the end of
+the room were a great number of prints in a heap, and paintings without
+frames turned against the wall.
+
+At the moment I came in, the old man was making his dinner on some hard
+crusts of bread, which he was soaking in a glass of 'eau sucree'. He
+perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little
+ashamed.
+
+"There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor," said he, with a
+smile.
+
+I replied that at least I thought it a very philosophical one for the
+Carnival.
+
+M. Antoine shook his head, and went on again with his supper.
+
+"Every one keeps his holidays in his own way," resumed he, beginning
+again to dip a crust into his glass. "There are several sorts of
+epicures, and not all feasts are meant to regale the palate; there are
+some also for the ears and the eyes."
+
+I looked involuntarily round me, as if to seek for the invisible banquet
+which could make up to him for such a supper.
+
+Without doubt he understood me; for he got up slowly, and, with the
+magisterial air of a man confident in what he is about to do, he
+rummaged behind several picture frames, drew forth a painting, over
+which he passed his hand, and silently placed it under the light of the
+lamp.
+
+It represented a fine-looking old man, seated at table with his wife,
+his daughter, and his children, and singing to the accompaniment of
+musicians who appeared in the background. At first sight I recognized
+the subject, which I had often admired at the Louvre, and I declared it
+to be a splendid copy of Jordaens.
+
+"A copy!" cried M. Antoine; "say an original, neighbor, and an original
+retouched by Rubens! Look closer at the head of the old man, the
+dress of the young woman, and the accessories. One can count
+the pencil-strokes of the Hercules of painters. It is not only a
+masterpiece, sir; it is a treasure--a relic! The picture at the Louvre
+may be a pearl, this is a diamond!"
+
+And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light,
+he fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the
+wonderful picture. One would have said that the sight of it gave the
+crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied
+his glass by little sips. His shrivelled features became smooth, his
+nostrils expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, "a feast for the
+eyes."
+
+"You see that I also have my treat," he resumed, nodding his head with
+an air of triumph. "Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me,
+this is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival."
+
+"But if this painting is really so precious," replied I, "it ought to be
+worth a high price."
+
+"Eh! eh!" said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference. "In good
+times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand
+francs."
+
+I started back.
+
+"And you have bought it?" cried I.
+
+"For nothing," replied he, lowering his voice. "These brokers are asses;
+mine mistook this for a student's copy; he let me have it for fifty
+louis, ready money! This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes
+to be off the bargain."
+
+"This morning!" repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter
+containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son's
+widow, which was still on the little table.
+
+He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work
+of Jordaens in an ecstasy.
+
+"What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!" he murmured, biting his last crust in
+delight. "What relief! what fire! Where can one find such transparency
+of color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!"
+
+As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for
+admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder.
+
+"You are dazzled," said he merrily; "you did not expect such a treasure!
+What do you say to the bargain I have made?"
+
+"Pardon me," replied I, gravely; "but I think you might have done
+better."
+
+M. Antoine raised his head.
+
+"How!" cried he; "do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about
+the merit or value of a painting?"
+
+"I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking
+that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have
+had--"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"The family itself, sir."
+
+The old amateur cast a look at me, not of anger, but of contempt. In
+his eyes I had evidently just proved myself a barbarian, incapable of
+understanding the arts, and unworthy of enjoying them. He got up without
+answering me, hastily took up the Jordaens, and replaced it in its
+hiding-place behind the prints.
+
+It was a sort of dismissal; I took leave of him, and went away.
+
+Seven o'clock.--When I come in again, I find my water boiling over
+my lamp, and I busy myself in grinding my Mocha, and setting out my
+coffee-things.
+
+The getting coffee ready is the most delicate and most attractive of
+domestic operations to one who lives alone: it is the grand work of a
+bachelor's housekeeping.
+
+Coffee is, so to say, just the mid-point between bodily and spiritual
+nourishment. It acts agreeably, and at the same time, upon the senses
+and the thoughts. Its very fragrance gives a sort of delightful
+activity to the wits; it is a genius that lends wings to our fancy, and
+transports it to the land of the Arabian Nights.
+
+When I am buried in my old easy-chair, my feet on the fender before a
+blazing fire, my ear soothed by the singing of the coffee-pot, which
+seems to gossip with my fire-irons, the sense of smell gently excited by
+the aroma of the Arabian bean, and my eyes shaded by my cap pulled down
+over them, it often seems as if each cloud of the fragrant steam took a
+distinct form. As in the mirages of the desert, in each as it rises, I
+see some image of which my mind had been longing for the reality.
+
+At first the vapor increases, and its color deepens. I see a cottage
+on a hillside: behind is a garden shut in by a whitethorn hedge, and
+through the garden runs a brook, on the banks of which I hear the bees
+humming.
+
+Then the view opens still more. See those fields planted with
+apple-trees, in which I can distinguish a plough and horses waiting for
+their master! Farther on, in a part of the wood which rings with the
+sound of the axe, I perceive the woodsman's hut, roofed with turf and
+branches; and, in the midst of all these rural pictures, I seem to see a
+figure of myself gliding about. It is my ghost walking in my dream!
+
+The bubbling of the water, ready to boil over, compels me to break off
+my meditations, in order to fill up the coffee-pot. I then remember
+that I have no cream; I take my tin can off the hook and go down to the
+milkwoman's.
+
+Mother Denis is a hale countrywoman from Savoy, which she left when
+quite young; and, contrary to the custom of the Savoyards, she has
+not gone back to it again. She has neither husband nor child,
+notwithstanding the title they give her; but her kindness, which never
+sleeps, makes her worthy of the name of mother.
+
+A brave creature! Left by herself in the battle of life, she makes good
+her humble place in it by working, singing, helping others, and leaving
+the rest to God.
+
+At the door of the milk-shop I hear loud bursts of laughter. In one of
+the corners of the shop three children are sitting on the ground. They
+wear the sooty dress of Savoyard boys, and in their hands they hold
+large slices of bread and cheese. The youngest is besmeared up to the
+eyes with his, and that is the reason of their mirth.
+
+Mother Denis points them out to me.
+
+"Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!" said she, putting
+her hand on the head of the little glutton.
+
+"He has had no breakfast," puts in one of the others by way of excuse.
+
+"Poor little thing," said the milkwoman; "he is left alone in the
+streets of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good
+God!"
+
+"And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?" I replied, gently.
+
+"What I do is little enough," said Mother Denis, measuring out my milk;
+"but every day I get some of them together out of the street, that for
+once they may have enough to eat. Dear children! their mothers will make
+up for it in heaven. Not to mention that they recall my native mountains
+to me: when they sing and dance, I seem to see our old father again."
+
+Here her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?"
+resumed I.
+
+"Yes! yes!" said she, "and by their happiness, too! The laughter of
+these little ones, sir, is like a bird's song; it makes you gay, and
+gives you heart to live."
+
+As she spoke she cut some fresh slices of bread and cheese, and added
+some apples and a handful of nuts to them.
+
+"Come, my little dears," she cried, "put these into your pockets against
+to-morrow."
+
+Then, turning to me:
+
+"To-day I am ruining myself," added she; "but we must all have our
+Carnival."
+
+I came away without saying a word: I was too much affected.
+
+At last I have discovered what true pleasure is. After beholding
+the egotism of sensuality and of intellect, I have found the happy
+self-sacrifice of goodness. Pierre, M. Antoine, and Mother Denis had all
+kept their Carnival; but for the first two, it was only a feast for the
+senses or the mind; while for the third, it was a feast for the heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III. WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW
+
+March 3d
+
+A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have
+compared it to a night of fever! What alternate fits of restlessness and
+sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst!
+what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies! We can neither sleep
+nor wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of
+action. Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the
+last third in repenting.
+
+When I say human existence, I mean my own! We are so made that each of
+us regards himself as the mirror of the community: what passes in our
+minds infallibly seems to us a history of the universe. Every man is
+like the drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself
+staggering.
+
+And why am I uncertain and restless--I, a poor day-laborer in the
+world--who fill an obscure station in a corner of it, and whose work
+it avails itself of, without heeding the workman? I will tell you, my
+unseen friend, for whom these lines are written; my unknown brother, on
+whom the solitary call in sorrow; my imaginary confidant, to whom
+all monologues are addressed and who is but the shadow of our own
+conscience.
+
+A great event has happened in my life! A crossroad has suddenly opened
+in the middle of the monotonous way along which I was travelling
+quietly, and without thinking of it. Two roads present themselves, and
+I must choose between them. One is only the continuation of that I have
+followed till now; the other is wider, and exhibits wondrous prospects.
+On the first there is nothing to fear, but also little to hope; on the
+other are great dangers and great fortune. Briefly, the question is,
+whether I shall give up the humble office in which I thought to die,
+for one of those bold speculations in which chance alone is banker! Ever
+since yesterday I have consulted with myself; I have compared the two
+and I remain undecided.
+
+Where shall I find light--who will advise me?
+
+Sunday, 4th.--See the sun coming out from the thick fogs of winter!
+Spring announces its approach; a soft breeze skims over the roofs, and
+my wallflower begins to blow again.
+
+We are near that sweet season of fresh green, of which the poets of the
+sixteenth century sang with so much feeling:
+
+          Now the gladsome month of May
+          All things newly doth array;
+          Fairest lady, let me too
+          In thy love my life renew.
+
+The chirping of the sparrows calls me: they claim the crumbs I scatter
+to them every morning. I open my window, and the prospect of roofs opens
+out before me in all its splendor.
+
+He who has lived only on a first floor has no idea of the picturesque
+variety of such a view. He has never contemplated these tile-colored
+heights which intersect each other; he has not followed with his eyes
+these gutter-valleys, where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens
+waves, the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes,
+and the sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to
+a blaze of fire. He has not studied the flora of these Alps of
+civilization, carpeted by lichens and mosses; he is not acquainted with
+the myriad inhabitants that people them, from the microscopic insect to
+the domestic cat--that reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl,
+or in ambush; he has not witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or
+a cloudy sky; nor the thousand effects of light, that make these upper
+regions a theatre with ever-changing scenes! How many times have my
+days of leisure passed away in contemplating this wonderful sight; in
+discovering its darker or brighter episodes; in seeking, in short, in
+this unknown world for the impressions of travel that wealthy tourists
+look for lower!
+
+Nine o'clock.--But why, then, have not my winged neighbors picked up the
+crumbs I have scattered for them before my window? I see them fly away,
+come back, perch upon the ledges of the windows, and chirp at the sight
+of the feast they are usually so ready to devour! It is not my presence
+that frightens them; I have accustomed them to eat out of my hand. Then,
+why this fearful suspense? In vain I look around: the roof is clear,
+the windows near are closed. I crumble the bread that remains from my
+breakfast to attract them by an ampler feast. Their chirpings increase,
+they bend down their heads, the boldest approach upon the wing, but
+without daring to alight.
+
+Come, come, my sparrows are the victims of one of the foolish panics
+which make the funds fall at the Bourse! It is plain that birds are not
+more reasonable than men!
+
+With this reflection I was about to shut my window, when suddenly
+I perceived, in a spot of sunshine on my right, the shadow of two
+pricked-up ears; then a paw advanced, then the head of a tabby-cat
+showed itself at the corner of the gutter. The cunning fellow was lying
+there in wait, hoping the crumbs would bring him some game.
+
+And I had accused my guests of cowardice! I was so sure that no danger
+could menace them! I thought I had looked well everywhere! I had only
+forgotten the corner behind me!
+
+In life, as on the roofs, how many misfortunes come from having
+forgotten a single corner!
+
+Ten o'clock.--I cannot leave my window; the rain and the cold have kept
+it shut so long that I must reconnoitre all the environs to be able
+to take possession of them again. My eyes search in succession all the
+points of the jumbled and confused prospect, passing on or stopping
+according to what they light upon.
+
+Ah! see the windows upon which they formerly loved to rest; they are
+those of two unknown neighbors, whose different habits they have long
+remarked.
+
+One is a poor work-woman, who rises before sunrise, and whose profile is
+shadowed upon her little muslin window-curtain far into the evening; the
+other is a young songstress, whose vocal flourishes sometimes reach my
+attic by snatches. When their windows are open, that of the work-woman
+discovers a humble but decent abode; the other, an elegantly furnished
+room. But to-day a crowd of tradespeople throng the latter: they take
+down the silk hangings and carry off the furniture, and I now remember
+that the young singer passed under my window this morning with her veil
+down, and walking with the hasty step of one who suffers some inward
+trouble. Ah! I guess it all. Her means are exhausted in elegant fancies,
+or have been taken away by some unexpected misfortune, and now she has
+fallen from luxury to indigence. While the work-woman manages not only
+to keep her little room, but also to furnish it with decent comfort by
+her steady toil, that of the singer is become the property of brokers.
+The one sparkled for a moment on the wave of prosperity; the other sails
+slowly but safely along the coast of a humble and laborious industry.
+
+Alas! is there not here a lesson for us all? Is it really in hazardous
+experiments, at the end of which we shall meet with wealth or ruin, that
+the wise man should employ his years of strength and freedom? Ought he
+to consider life as a regular employment which brings its daily wages,
+or as a game in which the future is determined by a few throws? Why seek
+the risk of extreme chances? For what end hasten to riches by dangerous
+roads? Is it really certain that happiness is the prize of brilliant
+successes, rather than of a wisely accepted poverty? Ah! if men but
+knew in what a small dwelling joy can live, and how little it costs to
+furnish it!
+
+Twelve o'clock.--I have been walking up and down my attic for a long
+time, with my arms folded and my eyes on the ground! My doubts increase,
+like shadows encroaching more and more on some bright space; my fears
+multiply; and the uncertainty becomes every moment more painful to me!
+It is necessary for me to decide to-day, and before the evening! I hold
+the dice of my future fate in my hands, and I dare not throw them.
+
+Three o'clock.--The sky has become cloudy, and a cold wind begins to
+blow from the west; all the windows which were opened to the sunshine of
+a beautiful day are shut again. Only on the opposite side of the street,
+the lodger on the last story has not yet left his balcony.
+
+One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, his gray moustaches,
+and the ribbon that decorates his buttonhole. Indeed, one might have
+guessed as much from the care he takes of the little garden which is the
+ornament of his balcony in mid-air; for there are two things especially
+loved by all old soldiers--flowers and children. They have been so long,
+obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut off
+from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin life
+at an age when others end it. The tastes of their early years, which
+were arrested by the stern duties of war, suddenly break out again with
+their white hairs, and are like the savings of youth which they spend
+again in old age. Besides, they have been condemned to be destroyers for
+so long that perhaps they feel a secret pleasure in creating, and
+seeing life spring up again: the beauty of weakness has a grace and
+an attraction the more for those who have been the agents of unbending
+force; and the watching over the frail germs of life has all the charms
+of novelty for these old workmen of death.
+
+Therefore the cold wind has not driven my neighbor from his balcony.
+He is digging up the earth in his green boxes, and carefully sowing the
+seeds of the scarlet nasturtium, convolvulus, and sweet-pea. Henceforth
+he will come every day to watch for their first sprouting, to protect
+the young shoots from weeds or insects, to arrange the strings for the
+tendrils to climb on, and carefully to regulate their supply of water
+and heat!
+
+How much labor to bring in the desired harvest! For that, how many times
+shall I see him brave cold or heat, wind or sun, as he does to-day! But
+then, in the hot summer days, when the blinding dust whirls in clouds
+through our streets, when the eye, dazzled by the glare of white stucco,
+knows not where to rest, and the glowing roofs reflect their heat
+upon us to burning, the old soldier will sit in his arbor and perceive
+nothing but green leaves and flowers around him, and the breeze will
+come cool and fresh to him through these perfumed shades. His assiduous
+care will be rewarded at last.
+
+We must sow the seeds, and tend the growth, if we would enjoy the
+flower.
+
+Four o'clock.--The clouds that have been gathering in the horizon for
+a long time are become darker; it thunders loudly, and the rain pours
+down! Those who are caught in it fly in every direction, some laughing
+and some crying.
+
+I always find particular amusement in these helter-skelters, caused by
+a sudden storm. It seems as if each one, when thus taken by surprise,
+loses the factitious character that the world or habit has given him,
+and appears in his true colors.
+
+See, for example, that big man with deliberate step, who suddenly
+forgets his indifference, made to order, and runs like a schoolboy!
+He is a thrifty city gentleman, who, with all his fashionable airs, is
+afraid to spoil his hat.
+
+That pretty woman yonder, on the contrary, whose looks are so modest,
+and whose dress is so elaborate, slackens her pace with the increasing
+storm. She seems to find pleasure in braving it, and does not think
+of her velvet cloak spotted by the hail! She is evidently a lioness in
+sheep's clothing.
+
+Here, a young man, who was passing, stops to catch some of the
+hailstones in his hand, and examines them. By his quick and
+business-like walk just now, you would have taken him for a tax-gatherer
+on his rounds, when he is a young philosopher, studying the effects of
+electricity. And those schoolboys who leave their ranks to run after the
+sudden gusts of a March whirlwind; those girls, just now so demure, but
+who now fly with bursts of laughter; those national guards, who quit the
+martial attitude of their days of duty to take refuge under a porch! The
+storm has caused all these transformations.
+
+See, it increases! The hardiest are obliged to seek shelter. I see
+every one rushing toward the shop in front of my window, which a bill
+announces is to let. It is for the fourth time within a few months. A
+year ago all the skill of the joiner and the art of the painter were
+employed in beautifying it, but their works are already destroyed by the
+leaving of so many tenants; the cornices of the front are disfigured by
+mud; the arabesques on the doorway are spoiled by bills posted upon them
+to announce the sale of the effects. The splendid shop has lost some of
+its embellishments with each change of the tenant. See it now empty, and
+left open to the passersby. How much does its fate resemble that of so
+many who, like it, only change their occupation to hasten the faster to
+ruin!
+
+I am struck by this last reflection: since the morning everything seems
+to speak to me, and with the same warning tone. Everything says: "Take
+care! be content with your happy, though humble lot; happiness can be
+retained only by constancy; do not forsake your old patrons for the
+protection of those who are unknown!"
+
+Are they the outward objects which speak thus, or does the warning
+come from within? Is it not I myself who give this language to all that
+surrounds me? The world is but an instrument, to which we give sound at
+will. But what does it signify if it teaches us wisdom? The low voice
+that speaks in our breasts is always a friendly voice, for it tells
+us what we are, that is to say, what is our capability. Bad conduct
+results, for the most part, from mistaking our calling. There are so
+many fools and knaves, because there are so few men who know themselves.
+The question is not to discover what will suit us, but for what we are
+suited!
+
+What should I do among these many experienced financial speculators? I
+am only a poor sparrow, born among the housetops, and should always
+fear the enemy crouching in the dark corner; I am a prudent workman,
+and should think of the business of my neighbors who so suddenly
+disappeared; I am a timid observer, and should call to mind the flowers
+so slowly raised by the old soldier, or the shop brought to ruin by
+constant change of masters. Away from me, ye banquets, over which hangs
+the sword of Damocles! I am a country mouse. Give me my nuts and hollow
+tree, and I ask nothing besides--except security.
+
+And why this insatiable craving for riches? Does a man drink more when
+he drinks from a large glass? Whence comes that universal dread of
+mediocrity, the fruitful mother of peace and liberty? Ah! there is the
+evil which, above every other, it should be the aim of both public and
+private education to anticipate! If that were got rid of, what treasons
+would be spared, what baseness avoided, what a chain of excess and
+crime would be forever broken! We award the palm to charity, and to
+self-sacrifice; but, above all, let us award it to moderation, for it
+is the great social virtue. Even when it does not create the others, it
+stands instead of them.
+
+Six o'clock.--I have written a letter of thanks to the promoters of
+the new speculation, and have declined their offer! This decision has
+restored my peace of mind. I stopped singing, like the cobbler, as long
+as I entertained the hope of riches: it is gone, and happiness is come
+back!
+
+O beloved and gentle Poverty! pardon me for having for a moment wished
+to fly from thee, as I would from Want. Stay here forever with thy
+charming sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my
+queens and my instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far
+from my abode the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow
+prosperity. Holy Poverty! teach me to endure without complaining,
+to impart without grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in
+pleasure, farther off than in power. Thou givest the body strength, thou
+makest the mind more firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the
+rich attach themselves as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may
+cut the cable without awakening all our fears. Continue to sustain me, O
+thou whom Christ hath called Blessed!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV. LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER
+
+April 9th
+
+The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their
+shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets
+of the flower-girls--all the world have begun their walks again on the
+quays and boulevards. After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to
+breathe the evening air.
+
+It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty. During the day
+the plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous
+whiteness; heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge
+wheels; the eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment
+from business, cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city
+altogether has something harsh, restless, and flurried about it. But, as
+soon as the stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white
+houses is quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling
+but that of the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you
+see only the lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given
+place to leisure. Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through
+the business of the day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives
+to pleasure! See the ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the
+eating-shops along the walks set out with dainties, and the twinkling
+lanterns of the newspaper criers. Decidedly Paris has laid aside the
+pen, the ruler, and the apron; after the day spent in work, it must have
+the evening for enjoyment; like the masters of Thebes, it has put off
+all serious matter till tomorrow.
+
+I love to take part in this happy hour; not to mix in the general
+gayety, but to contemplate it. If the enjoyments of others embitter
+jealous minds, they strengthen the humble spirit; they are the beams of
+sunshine, which open the two beautiful flowers called trust and hope.
+
+Although alone in the midst of the smiling multitude, I do not feel
+myself isolated from it, for its gayety is reflected upon me: it is my
+own kind, my own family, who are enjoying life, and I take a brother's
+share in their happiness. We are all fellow-soldiers in this earthly
+battle, and what does it matter on whom the honors of the victory fall?
+If Fortune passes by without seeing us, and pours her favors on others,
+let us console ourselves, like the friend of Parmenio, by saying,
+"Those, too, are Alexanders."
+
+While making these reflections, I was going on as chance took me. I
+crossed from one pavement to another, I retraced my steps, I stopped
+before the shops or to read the handbills. How many things there are
+to learn in the streets of Paris! What a museum it is! Unknown fruits,
+foreign arms, furniture of old times or other lands, animals of all
+climates, statues of great men, costumes of distant nations! It is the
+world seen in samples!
+
+Let us then look at this people, whose knowledge is gained from the
+shop-windows and the tradesman's display of goods. Nothing has been
+taught them, but they have a rude notion of everything. They have
+seen pineapples at Chevet's, a palm-tree in the Jardin des Plantes,
+sugar-canes selling on the Pont-Neuf. The Redskins, exhibited in the
+Valentine Hall, have taught them to mimic the dance of the bison, and to
+smoke the calumet of peace; they have seen Carter's lions fed; they
+know the principal national costumes contained in Babin's collection;
+Goupil's display of prints has placed the tiger-hunts of Africa and the
+sittings of the English Parliament before their eyes; they have become
+acquainted with Queen Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, and Kossuth, at
+the office-door of the Illustrated News. We can certainly instruct them,
+but not astonish them; for nothing is completely new to them. You may
+take the Paris ragamuffin through the five quarters of the world, and
+at every wonder with which you think to surprise him, he will settle the
+matter with that favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know."
+
+But this variety of exhibitions, which makes Paris the fair of the
+world, does not offer merely a means of instruction to him who walks
+through it; it is a continual spur for rousing the imagination, a first
+step of the ladder always set up before us in a vision. When we see
+them, how many voyages do we take in imagination, what adventures do we
+dream of, what pictures do we sketch! I never look at that shop near
+the Chinese baths, with its tapestry hangings of Florida jessamine,
+and filled with magnolias, without seeing the forest glades of the New
+World, described by the author of Atala, opening themselves out before
+me.
+
+Then, when this study of things and this discourse of reason begin to
+tire you, look around you! What contrasts of figures and faces you
+see in the crowd! What a vast field for the exercise of meditation! A
+half-seen glance, or a few words caught as the speaker passes by, open
+a thousand vistas to your imagination. You wish to comprehend what these
+imperfect disclosures mean, and, as the antiquary endeavors to decipher
+the mutilated inscription on some old monument, you build up a history
+on a gesture or on a word! These are the stirring sports of the mind,
+which finds in fiction a relief from the wearisome dullness of the
+actual.
+
+Alas! as I was just now passing by the carriage-entrance of a great
+house, I noticed a sad subject for one of these histories. A man was
+sitting in the darkest corner, with his head bare, and holding out his
+hat for the charity of those who passed. His threadbare coat had that
+look of neatness which marks that destitution has been met by a long
+struggle. He had carefully buttoned it up to hide the want of a shirt.
+His face was half hid under his gray hair, and his eyes were closed, as
+if he wished to escape the sight of his own humiliation, and he remained
+mute and motionless. Those who passed him took no notice of the beggar,
+who sat in silence and darkness! They had been so lucky as to escape
+complaints and importunities, and were glad to turn away their eyes too.
+
+Suddenly the great gate turned on its hinges; and a very low carriage,
+lighted with silver lamps and drawn by two black horses, came slowly
+out, and took the road toward the Faubourg St. Germain. I could just
+distinguish, within, the sparkling diamonds and the flowers of a
+ball-dress; the glare of the lamps passed like a bloody streak over
+the pale face of the beggar, and showed his look as his eyes opened and
+followed the rich man's equipage until it disappeared in the night.
+
+I dropped a small piece of money into the hat he was holding out, and
+passed on quickly.
+
+I had just fallen unexpectedly upon the two saddest secrets of the
+disease which troubles the age we live in: the envious hatred of him
+who suffers want, and the selfish forgetfulness of him who lives in
+affluence.
+
+All the enjoyment of my walk was gone; I left off looking about me, and
+retired into my own heart. The animated and moving sight in the streets
+gave place to inward meditation upon all the painful problems which
+have been written for the last four thousand years at the bottom of each
+human struggle, but which are propounded more clearly than ever in our
+days.
+
+I pondered on the uselessness of so many contests, in which defeat and
+victory only displace each other by turns, and on the mistaken zealots
+who have repeated from generation to generation the bloody history of
+Cain and Abel; and, saddened with these mournful reflections, I walked
+on as chance took me, until the silence all around insensibly drew me
+out from my own thoughts.
+
+I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live
+in comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection,
+delight to find a home. There were no shops along the dimly lighted
+street; one heard no sounds but of distant carriages, and of the steps
+of some of the inhabitants returning quietly home.
+
+I instantly recognized the street, though I had been there only once
+before.
+
+That was two years ago. I was walking at the time by the side of the
+Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of
+a lake surrounded by a garland of stars; and I had reached the Louvre,
+when I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet they had
+gathered round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the
+cause of his tears.
+
+"It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries," said a mason, who
+was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; "the servant
+who took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to
+wait for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made
+him more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find
+his way home."
+
+"Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?"
+
+"They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that
+he is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval--there are
+twelve hundred Duvals in Paris."
+
+"Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?"
+
+"I should not think, indeed! Don't you see that he is a gentleman's
+child? He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he
+does not know what to do by himself."
+
+Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the
+others.
+
+"We cannot leave him in the street," said some.
+
+"The child-stealers would carry him off," continued others.
+
+"We must take him to the overseer."
+
+"Or to the police-office."
+
+"That's the thing. Come, little one!"
+
+But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the
+names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the
+parapet. In vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist
+the more, and the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a
+little boy was heard through the confusion.
+
+"I know him well--I do," said he, looking at the lost child; "he belongs
+in our part of the town."
+
+"What part is it?"
+
+"Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards--Rue des Magasins."
+
+"And you have seen him before?"
+
+"Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where
+there is an iron gate with gilt points."
+
+The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy
+answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details
+as left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went
+up to him as if to put himself under his protection.
+
+"Then you can take him to his parents?" asked the mason, who had
+listened with real interest to the little boy's account.
+
+"I don't care if I do," replied he; "it's the way I'm going."
+
+"Then you will take charge of him?"
+
+"He has only to come with me."
+
+And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pavement, he set off
+toward the postern-gate of the Louvre.
+
+The lost child followed him.
+
+"I hope he will take him right," said I, when I saw them go away.
+
+"Never fear," replied the mason; "the little one in the blouse is
+the same age as the other; but, as the saying is, he knows black from
+white;' poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress!"
+
+The crowd dispersed. For my part, I went toward the Louvre; the thought
+came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any
+mistake.
+
+I was not long in overtaking them; they were walking side by side,
+talking, and already quite familiar with each other. The contrast in
+their dress then struck me. Little Duval wore one of those fanciful
+children's dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste; his
+coat was skilfully fitted to his figure, his trousers came down
+in plaits from his waist to his boots of polished leather with
+mother-of-pearl buttons, and his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap.
+The appearance of his guide, on the contrary, was that of the class who
+dwell on the extreme borders of poverty, but who there maintain their
+ground with no surrender. His old blouse, patched with pieces of
+different shades, indicated the perseverance of an industrious mother
+struggling against the wear and tear of time; his trousers were become
+too short, and showed his stockings darned over and over again; and it
+was evident that his shoes were not made for him.
+
+The countenances of the two children were not less different than their
+dress. That of the first was delicate and refined; his clear blue
+eye, his fair skin, and his smiling mouth gave him a charming look of
+innocence and happiness. The features of the other, on the contrary, had
+something rough in them; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion
+dark, his smile less merry than shrewd; all showed a mind sharpened by
+too early experience; he walked boldly through the middle of the streets
+thronged by carriages, and followed their countless turnings without
+hesitation.
+
+I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father,
+who was then working on the left bank of the Seine; and this responsible
+duty had made him careful and prudent. He had learned those hard but
+forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal or supply the
+place of. Unfortunately, the wants of his poor family had kept him from
+school, and he seemed to feel the loss; for he often stopped before
+the printshops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the
+engravings. In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which
+the little wanderer seemed to know again. Notwithstanding his fatigue,
+he hurried on; he was agitated by mixed feelings; at the sight of his
+house he uttered a cry, and ran toward the iron gate with the gilt
+points; a lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her
+arms, and from the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon
+perceived she was his mother.
+
+Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of
+them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety.
+
+I explained to her in a few words what had happened. She thanked me
+warmly, and looked round for the little boy who had recognized and
+brought back her son; but while we were talking, he had disappeared.
+
+It was for the first time since then that I had come into this part of
+Paris. Did the mother continue grateful? Had the children met again, and
+had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that
+barrier which may mark the different ranks of men, but should not divide
+them?
+
+While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed
+my eyes on the great gate, which I just perceived. Suddenly I saw it
+open, and two children appeared at the entrance. Although much grown, I
+recognized them at first sight; they were the child who was found near
+the parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide. But the dress of the
+latter was greatly changed: his blouse of gray cloth was neat, and even
+spruce, and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt; he
+wore strong shoes, but made for his feet, and had on a new cloth cap.
+Just at the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch
+of lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and
+primroses; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-by.
+M. Duval's son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner
+of the street.
+
+Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting; he
+looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me.
+
+"Forgive me if I do not make you a bow," said he, merrily, "but I want
+both my hands for the nosegay Monsieur Charles has given me."
+
+"You are, then, become great friends?" said I.
+
+"Oh! I should think so," said the child; "and now my father is rich
+too!"
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"Monsieur Duval lent him some money; he has taken a shop, where he works
+on his own account; and, as for me, I go to school."
+
+"Yes," replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated
+his little coat; "and I see that you are head-boy!"
+
+"Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in
+the class."
+
+"Are you now going to your lessons?"
+
+"Yes, and he has given me some lilacs; for he has a garden where we play
+together, and where my mother can always have flowers."
+
+"Then it is the same as if it were partly your own."
+
+"So it is! Ah! they are good neighbors indeed. But here I am; good-by,
+sir."
+
+He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared.
+
+I went on with my walk, still pensive, but with a feeling of relief.
+If I had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast between affluence
+and want, here I had found the true union of riches and poverty. Hearty
+good-will had smoothed down the more rugged inequalities on both sides,
+and had opened a road of true neighborhood and fellowship between the
+humble workshop and the stately mansion. Instead of hearkening to the
+voice of interest, they had both listened to that of self-sacrifice,
+and there was no place left for contempt or envy. Thus, instead of the
+beggar in rags, that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man,
+I had found here the happy child of the laborer loaded with flowers and
+blessing him! The problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into
+with no regard but for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V. COMPENSATION
+
+Sunday, May 27th
+
+Capital cities have one thing peculiar to them: their days of rest seem
+to be the signal for a general dispersion and flight. Like birds that
+are just restored to liberty, the people come out of their stone cages,
+and joyfully fly toward the country. It is who shall find a green
+hillock for a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather
+May flowers, they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until
+the evening, when they return with sprigs of blooming hawthorn in their
+hats, and their hearts gladdened by pleasant thoughts and recollections
+of the past day; the next day they return again to their harness and to
+work.
+
+These rural adventures are most remarkable at Paris. When the fine
+weather comes, clerks, shop keepers, and workingmen look forward
+impatiently for the Sunday as the day for trying a few hours of this
+pastoral life; they walk through six miles of grocers' shops and
+public-houses in the faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real
+turnip-field. The father of a family begins the practical education of
+his son by showing him wheat which has not taken the form of a loaf,
+and cabbage "in its wild state." Heaven only knows the encounters, the
+discoveries, the adventures that are met with! What Parisian has not had
+his Odyssey in an excursion through the suburbs, and would not be able
+to write a companion to the famous Travels by Land and by Sea from Paris
+to St. Cloud?
+
+We do not now speak of that floating population from all parts, for whom
+our French Babylon is the caravansary of Europe: a phalanx of thinkers,
+artists, men of business, and travellers, who, like Homer's hero, have
+arrived in their intellectual country after beholding "many peoples and
+cities;" but of the settled Parisian, who keeps his appointed place, and
+lives on his own floor like the oyster on his rock, a curious vestige of
+the credulity, the slowness, and the simplicity of bygone ages.
+
+For one of the singularities of Paris is, that it unites twenty
+populations completely different in character and manners. By the
+side of the gypsies of commerce and of art, who wander through all the
+several stages of fortune or fancy, live a quiet race of people with an
+independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial
+of a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours. If
+no other city can show more brilliant and more stirring forms of life,
+no other contains more obscure and more tranquil ones. Great cities are
+like the sea: storms agitate only the surface; if you go to the bottom,
+you find a region inaccessible to the tumult and the noise.
+
+For my part, I have settled on the verge of this region, but do not
+actually live in it. I am removed from the turmoil of the world, and
+live in the shelter of solitude, but without being able to disconnect
+my thoughts from the struggle going on. I follow at a distance all its
+events of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for
+how can he who looks on, and knows what passes, do other than take part?
+Ignorance alone can keep us strangers to the life around us: selfishness
+itself will not suffice for that.
+
+These reflections I made to myself in my attic, in the intervals of the
+various household works to which a bachelor is forced when he has
+no other servant than his own ready will. While I was pursuing my
+deductions, I had blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and tied my
+cravat; I had at last arrived at the important moment when we pronounce
+complacently that all is finished, and that well.
+
+A grand resolve had just decided me to depart from my usual habits. The
+evening before, I had seen by the advertisements that the next day was
+a holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would be open to the
+public. I was tempted by the beauty of the morning, and suddenly decided
+to go there.
+
+On my arrival at the station on the left bank, I noticed the crowd
+hurrying on in the fear of being late. Railroads, besides many other
+advantages, possess that of teaching the French punctuality. They will
+submit to the clock when they are convinced that it is their master;
+they will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for.
+Social virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits. How many great
+qualities are grafted into nations by their geographical position, by
+political necessity, and by institutions! Avarice was destroyed for a
+time among the Lacedaemonians by the creation of an iron coinage, too
+heavy and too bulky to be conveniently hoarded.
+
+I found myself in a carriage with two middle-aged women belonging to the
+domestic and retired class of Parisians I have spoken of above. A few
+civilities were sufficient to gain me their confidence, and after some
+minutes I was acquainted with their whole history.
+
+They were two poor sisters, left orphans at fifteen, and had lived ever
+since, as those who work for their livelihood must live, by economy
+and privation. For the last twenty or thirty years they had worked
+in jewelry in the same house; they had seen ten masters succeed one
+another, and make their fortunes in it, without any change in their own
+lot. They had always lived in the same room, at the end of one of the
+passages in the Rue St. Denis, where the air and the sun are unknown.
+They began their work before daylight, went on with it till after
+nightfall, and saw year succeed to year without their lives being marked
+by any other events than the Sunday service, a walk, or an illness.
+
+The younger of these worthy work-women was forty, and obeyed her sister
+as she did when a child. The elder looked after her, took care of her,
+and scolded her with a mother's tenderness. At first it was amusing;
+afterward one could not help seeing something affecting in these two
+gray-haired children, one unable to leave off the habit of obeying, the
+other that of protecting.
+
+And it was not in that alone that my two companions seemed younger than
+their years; they knew so little that their wonder never ceased. We had
+hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily exclaimed, like the
+king in the children's game, that they "did not think the world was so
+great"!
+
+It was the first time they had trusted themselves on a railroad, and
+it was amusing to see their sudden shocks, their alarms, and their
+courageous determinations: everything was a marvel to them! They had
+remains of youth within them, which made them sensible to things which
+usually only strike us in childhood. Poor creatures! they had still the
+feelings of another age, though they had lost its charms.
+
+But was there not something holy in this simplicity, which had been
+preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life? Ah! accursed
+be he who first had the bad courage to attach ridicule to that name
+of "old maid," which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of
+dreariness, and of abandonment! Accursed be he who can find a subject
+for sarcasm in involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with
+thorns!
+
+The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine. This day's journey
+was a feat of courage without example in their lives. The fever of
+the times had infected them unawares. Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly
+proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it
+immediately. Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great
+temptation offered by her younger sister; but "we have our follies
+at all ages," as the prudent Frances philosophically remarked. As
+for Madeleine, there are no regrets or doubts for her; she is the
+life-guardsman of the establishment.
+
+"We really must amuse ourselves," said she; "we live but once."
+
+And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim. It was evident that
+the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.
+
+And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had
+interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial! The sight
+of the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused
+them unceasing admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary
+direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut
+their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared! They look
+around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment
+at the marvel.
+
+Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the
+journey, and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not
+recollected, with some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense
+must make in their budget. The three francs spent upon this single
+expedition were the savings of a whole week of work. Thus the joy of the
+elder of the two sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now
+and then turned its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.
+
+But the motion and the succession of objects distract her. See the
+bridge of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right,
+Paris with its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle
+in the sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines,
+and its royal castle! The two work-women look from one window to the
+other with exclamations of delight. One fellow-passenger laughs at their
+childish wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the
+sign of a long and monotonous seclusion: they are the prisoners of work,
+who have recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours.
+
+At last the train stops, and we get out. I show the two sisters the path
+that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go
+on before, while I inquire about the time of returning.
+
+I soon join them again at the next station, where they have stopped at
+the little garden belonging to the gatekeeper; both are already in deep
+conversation with him while he digs his garden-borders, and marks out
+the places for flower-seeds. He informs them that it is the time for
+hoeing out weeds, for making grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and
+for destroying the insects on the rose-trees. Madeleine has on the sill
+of her window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she
+has never been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she
+persuades herself that, thanks to this information, all other plants
+may henceforth thrive in them. At last the gatekeeper, who is sowing a
+border with mignonette, gives her the rest of the seeds which he does
+not want, and the old maid goes off delighted, and begins to act over
+again the dream of Paired and her can of milk, with these flowers of her
+imagination.
+
+On reaching the grove of acacias, where the fair was going on, I lost
+sight of the two sisters. I went alone among the sights: there were
+lotteries going on, mountebank shows, places for eating and drinking,
+and for shooting with the cross-bow. I have always been struck by the
+spirit of these out-of-door festivities. In drawing-room entertainments,
+people are cold, grave, often listless, and most of those who go there
+are brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the
+country assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are
+attracted by the hope of enjoyment. There, it is a forced conscription;
+here, they are volunteers for gayety! Then, how easily they are pleased!
+How far this crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with
+nothing, and to look down on everything, is the height of fashion and
+good taste! Doubtless their amusements are often coarse; elegance and
+refinement are wanting in them; but at least they have heartiness. Oh,
+that the hearty enjoyments of these merry-makings could be retained
+in union with less vulgar feeling! Formerly religion stamped its holy
+character on the celebration of country festivals, and purified the
+pleasures without depriving them of their simplicity.
+
+The hour arrives at which the doors of the porcelain manufactory and the
+museum of pottery are open to the public. I meet Frances and Madeleine
+again in the first room. Frightened at finding themselves in the midst
+of such regal magnificence, they hardly dare walk; they speak in a low
+tone, as if they were in a church.
+
+"We are in the king's house," said the eldest sister, forgetting that
+there is no longer a king in France.
+
+I encourage them to go on; I walk first, and they make up their minds to
+follow me.
+
+What wonders are brought together in this collection! Here we see clay
+moulded into every shape, tinted with every color, and combined with
+every sort of substance!
+
+Earth and wood are the first substances worked upon by man, and seem
+more particularly meant for his use. They, like the domestic animals,
+are the essential accessories of his life; therefore there must be a
+more intimate connection between them and us. Stone and metals require
+long preparations; they resist our first efforts, and belong less to the
+individual than to communities. Earth and wood are, on the contrary, the
+principal instruments of the isolated being who must feed and shelter
+himself.
+
+This, doubtless, makes me feel so much interested in the collection I am
+examining. These cups, so roughly modelled by the savage, admit me to
+a knowledge of some of his habits; these elegant yet incorrectly formed
+vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence,--in which still
+glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; these jars,
+loaded with arabesques, show the fancy of the Arab rudely and ignorantly
+copied by the Spaniard! We find here the stamp of every race, every
+country, and every age.
+
+My companions seemed little interested in these historical associations;
+they looked at all with that credulous admiration which leaves no room
+for examination or discussion. Madeleine read the name written under
+every piece of workmanship, and her sister answered with an exclamation
+of wonder.
+
+In this way we reached a little courtyard, where they had thrown away
+the fragments of some broken china.
+
+Frances perceived a colored saucer almost whole, of which she took
+possession as a record of the visit she was making; henceforth she would
+have a specimen of the Sevres china, "which is only made for kings!"
+I would not undeceive her by telling her that the products of the
+manufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before
+it was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for
+sixpence! Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence?
+Are we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths? Things
+are oftenest nothing in themselves; the thoughts we attach to them alone
+give them value. To rectify innocent mistakes, in order to recover some
+useless reality, is to be like those learned men who will see nothing in
+a plant but the chemical elements of which it is composed.
+
+On leaving the manufactory, the two sisters, who had taken possession
+of me with the freedom of artlessness, invited me to share the luncheon
+they had brought with them. I declined at first, but they insisted
+with so much good-nature, that I feared to pain them, and with some
+awkwardness gave way.
+
+We had only to look for a convenient spot. I led them up the hill,
+and we found a plot of grass enamelled with daisies, and shaded by two
+walnut-trees.
+
+Madeleine could not contain herself for joy. All her life she had
+dreamed of a dinner out on the grass! While helping her sister to take
+the provisions from the basket, she tells me of all her expeditions into
+the country that had been planned, and put off. Frances, on the other
+hand, was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she
+had often gone back to her nurse's house. That which had the attraction
+of novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection. She
+told of the vintage harvests to which her parents had taken her; the
+rides on Mother Luret's donkey, that they could not make go to the right
+without pulling him to the left; the cherry-gathering; and the sails on
+the lake in the innkeeper's boat.
+
+These recollections have all the charm and freshness of childhood.
+Frances recalls to herself less what she has seen than what she has
+felt. While she is talking the cloth is laid, and we sit down under
+a tree. Before us winds the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses
+abutting upon the gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side
+spreads out the park of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees
+interspersed with meadows; above stretch the heavens like an immense
+ocean, in which the clouds are sailing! I look at this beautiful
+country, and I listen to these good old maids; I admire, and I am
+interested; and time passes gently on without my perceiving it.
+
+At last the sun sets, and we have to think of returning. While Madeleine
+and Frances clear away the dinner, I walk down to the manufactory to ask
+the hour. The merrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones
+resound from the band under the acacias. For a few moments I forget
+myself with looking about; but I have promised the two sisters to take
+them back to the Bellevue station; the train cannot wait, and I make
+haste to climb the path again which leads to the walnut-trees.
+
+Just before I reached them, I heard voices on the other side of the
+hedge. Madeleine and Frances were speaking to a poor girl whose clothes
+were burned, her hands blackened, and her face tied up with bloodstained
+bandages. I saw that she was one of the girls employed at the gunpowder
+mills, which are built further up on the common. An explosion had taken
+place a few days before; the girl's mother and elder sister were killed;
+she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of
+support. She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of
+one who has always been accustomed to suffer. The two sisters were much
+affected; I saw them consulting with each other in a low tone: then
+Frances took thirty sous out of a little coarse silk purse, which was
+all they had left, and gave them to the poor girl. I hastened on to that
+side of the hedge; but, before I reached it, I met the two old sisters,
+who called out to me that they would not return by the railway, but on
+foot!
+
+I then understood that the money they had meant for the journey had just
+been given to the beggar! Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the
+poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was to pay for my own place,
+and return to Frances and Madeleine, and tell them I will walk with
+them.
+
+       ..........................
+
+I am just come back from taking them home; and have left them delighted
+with their day, the recollection of which will long make them happy.
+This morning I was pitying those whose lives are obscure and joyless;
+now, I understand that God has provided a compensation with every trial.
+The smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown.
+Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels
+no longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves
+to the other that first of earthly blessings: the being easily made
+happy. Oh, that I could persuade every one of this! that so the rich
+might not abuse their riches, and that the poor might have patience. If
+happiness is the rarest of blessings, it is because the reception of it
+is the rarest of virtues.
+
+Madeleine and Frances! ye poor old maids whose courage, resignation,
+and generous hearts are your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give
+themselves up to despair; for the unhappy who hate and envy; and for the
+unfeeling into whose enjoyments no pity enters.
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VI. UNCLE MAURICE
+
+
+June 7th, Four O'clock A.M.
+
+I am not surprised at hearing, when I awake, the birds singing so
+joyfully outside my window; it is only by living, as they and I do, in
+a top story, that one comes to know how cheerful the mornings really are
+up among the roofs. It is there that the sun sends his first rays, and
+the breeze comes with the fragrance of the gardens and woods; there that
+a wandering butterfly sometimes ventures among the flowers of the attic,
+and that the songs of the industrious work-woman welcome the dawn of
+day. The lower stories are still deep in sleep, silence, and shadow,
+while here labor, light, and song already reign.
+
+What life is around me! See the swallow returning from her search for
+food, with her beak full of insects for her young ones; the sparrows
+shake the dew from their wings while they chase one another in the
+sunshine; and my neighbors throw open their windows, and welcome
+the morning with their fresh faces! Delightful hour of waking, when
+everything returns to feeling and to motion; when the first light of day
+strikes upon creation, and brings it to life again, as the magic wand
+struck the palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the wood! It is a moment of
+rest from every misery; the sufferings of the sick are allayed, and a
+breath of hope enters into the hearts of the despairing. But, alas! it
+is but a short respite! Everything will soon resume its wonted course:
+the great human machine, with its long strains, its deep gasps, its
+collisions, and its crashes, will be again put in motion.
+
+The tranquillity of this first morning hour reminds me of that of our
+first years of life. Then, too, the sun shines brightly, the air
+is fragrant, and the illusions of youth-those birds of our life's
+morning-sing around us. Why do they fly away when we are older? Where
+do this sadness and this solitude, which gradually steal upon us,
+come from? The course seems to be the same with individuals and with
+communities: at starting, so readily made happy, so easily enchanted;
+and at the goal, the bitter disappointment or reality! The road, which
+began among hawthorns and primroses, ends speedily in deserts or in
+precipices! Why is there so much confidence at first, so much doubt at
+last? Has, then, the knowledge of life no other end but to make it
+unfit for happiness? Must we condemn ourselves to ignorance if we would
+preserve hope? Is the world and is the individual man intended, after
+all, to find rest only in an eternal childhood?
+
+How many times have I asked myself these questions! Solitude has the
+advantage or the danger of making us continually search more deeply into
+the same ideas. As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give
+the same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it
+to the subject which occupies another mind, or interests another's
+feelings; and so an involuntary inclination makes us return forever to
+knock at the same doors!
+
+I interrupted my reflections to put my attic in order. I hate the
+look of disorder, because it shows either a contempt for details or an
+unaptness for spiritual life. To arrange the things among which we have
+to live, is to establish the relation of property and of use between
+them and us: it is to lay the foundation of those habits without which
+man tends to the savage state. What, in fact, is social organization but
+a series of habits, settled in accordance with the dispositions of our
+nature?
+
+I distrust both the intellect and the morality of those people to whom
+disorder is of no consequence--who can live at ease in an Augean stable.
+What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us. The
+mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spite of everything,
+still throw some light around. If our tastes did not reveal our
+character, they would be no longer tastes, but instincts.
+
+While I was arranging everything in my attic, my eyes rested on the
+little almanac hanging over my chimney-piece. I looked for the day of
+the month, and I saw these words written in large letters: "FETE DIEU!"
+
+It is to-day! In this great city, where there are no longer any public
+religious solemnities, there is nothing to remind us of it; but it is,
+in truth, the period so happily chosen by the primitive church. "The day
+kept in honor of the Creator," says Chateaubriand, "happens at a time
+when the heaven and the earth declare His power, when the woods and
+fields are full of new life, and all are united by the happiest ties;
+there is not a single widowed plant in the fields."
+
+What recollections these words have just awakened! I left off what I was
+about, I leaned my elbows on the windowsill, and, with my head between
+my two hands, I went back in thought to the little town where the first
+days of my childhood were passed.
+
+The 'Fete Dieu' was then one of the great events of my life! It was
+necessary to be diligent and obedient a long time beforehand, to deserve
+to share in it. I still recollect with what raptures of expectation I
+got up on the morning of the day. There was a holy joy in the air. The
+neighbors, up earlier than usual, hung cloths with flowers or figures,
+worked in tapestry, along the streets. I went from one to another,
+by turns admiring religious scenes of the Middle Ages, mythological
+compositions of the Renaissance, old battles in the style of Louis XIV,
+and the Arcadias of Madame de Pompadour. All this world of phantoms
+seemed to be coming forth from the dust of past ages, to assist--silent
+and motionless--at the holy ceremony. I looked, alternately in fear
+and wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised,
+those beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow,
+and those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the
+feet of the perpetually smiling shepherdess. Sometimes, when the wind
+blew behind these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures
+themselves moved, and I watched to see them detach themselves from the
+wall, and take their places in the procession! But these impressions
+were vague and transitory. The feeling that predominated over every
+other was that of an overflowing yet quiet joy. In the midst of all the
+floating draperies, the scattered flowers, the voices of the maidens,
+and the gladness which, like a perfume, exhaled from everything, you
+felt transported in spite of yourself. The joyful sounds of the festival
+were repeated in your heart, in a thousand melodious echoes. You were
+more indulgent, more holy, more loving! For God was not only manifesting
+himself without, but also within us.
+
+And then the altars for the occasion! the flowery arbors! the triumphal
+arches made of green boughs! What competition among the different
+parishes for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was
+to halt! It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful
+of his possessions!
+
+It was there I made my first sacrifice!
+
+The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the
+Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the
+whole! All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked. I alone possessed
+a flower worthy of such a place. It was on the rose-tree given me by my
+mother on my birthday. I had watched it for several months, and there
+was no other bud to blow on the tree. There it was, half open, in its
+mossy nest, the object of such long expectations, and of all a child's
+pride! I hesitated for some moments. No one had asked me for it; I
+might easily avoid losing it. I should hear no reproaches, but one rose
+noiselessly within me. When every one else had given all they had, ought
+I alone to keep back my treasure? Ought I to grudge to God one of the
+gifts which, like all the rest, I had received from him? At this last
+thought I plucked the flower from the stem, and took it to put at the
+top of the Tabernacle. Ah! why does the recollection of this sacrifice,
+which was so hard and yet so sweet to me, now make me smile? Is it
+so certain that the value of a gift is in itself, rather than in the
+intention? If the cup of cold water in the gospel is remembered to the
+poor man, why should not the flower be remembered to the child? Let us
+not look down upon the child's simple act of generosity; it is these
+which accustom the soul to self-denial and to sympathy. I cherished this
+moss-rose a long time as a sacred talisman; I had reason to cherish it
+always, as the record of the first victory won over myself.
+
+It is now many years since I witnessed the celebration of the 'Fete
+Dieu'; but should I again feel in it the happy sensations of former
+days? I still remember how, when the procession had passed, I walked
+through the streets strewed with flowers and shaded with green boughs.
+I felt intoxicated by the lingering perfumes of the incense, mixed with
+the fragrance of syringas, jessamine, and roses, and I seemed no longer
+to touch the ground as I went along. I smiled at everything; the whole
+world was Paradise in my eyes, and it seemed to me that God was floating
+in the air!
+
+Moreover, this feeling was not the excitement of the moment: it might be
+more intense on certain days, but at the same time it continued through
+the ordinary course of my life. Many years thus passed for me in an
+expansion of heart, and a trustfulness which prevented sorrow, if not
+from coming, at least from staying with me. Sure of not being alone, I
+soon took heart again, like the child who recovers its courage, because
+it hears its mother's voice close by. Why have I lost that confidence of
+my childhood? Shall I never feel again so deeply that God is here?
+
+How strange the association of our thoughts! A day of the month recalls
+my infancy, and see, all the recollections of my former years are
+growing up around me! Why was I so happy then? I consider well, and
+nothing is sensibly changed in my condition. I possess, as I did
+then, health and my daily bread; the only difference is, that I am
+now responsible for myself! As a child, I accepted life when it came;
+another cared and provided for me. So long as I fulfilled my present
+duties I was at peace within, and I left the future to the prudence of
+my father! My destiny was a ship, in the directing of which I had no
+share, and in which I sailed as a common passenger. There was the whole
+secret of childhood's happy security. Since then worldly wisdom has
+deprived me of it. When my lot was intrusted to my own and sole keeping,
+I thought to make myself master of it by means of a long insight into
+the future. I have filled the present hour with anxieties, by occupying
+my thoughts with the future; I have put my judgment in the place of
+Providence, and the happy child is changed into the anxious man.
+
+A melancholy course, yet perhaps an important lesson. Who knows that,
+if I had trusted more to Him who rules the world, I should not have been
+spared all this anxiety? It may be that happiness is not possible here
+below, except on condition of living like a child, giving ourselves up
+to the duties of each day as it comes, and trusting in the goodness of
+our heavenly Father for all besides.
+
+This reminds me of my Uncle Maurice! Whenever I have need to strengthen
+myself in all that is good, I turn my thoughts to him; I see again the
+gentle expression of his half-smiling, half-mournful face; I hear his
+voice, always soft and soothing as a breath of summer! The remembrance
+of him protects my life, and gives it light. He, too, was a saint and
+martyr here below. Others have pointed out the path of heaven; he has
+taught us to see those of earth aright.
+
+But, except the angels, who are charged with noting down the sacrifices
+performed in secret, and the virtues which are never known, who has ever
+heard of my Uncle Maurice? Perhaps I alone remember his name, and still
+recall his history.
+
+Well! I will write it, not for others, but for myself! They say that,
+at the sight of the Apollo, the body erects itself and assumes a more
+dignified attitude: in the same way, the soul should feel itself raised
+and ennobled by the recollection of a good man's life!
+
+A ray of the rising sun lights up the little table on which I write; the
+breeze brings me in the scent of the mignonette, and the swallows wheel
+about my window with joyful twitterings. The image of my Uncle Maurice
+will be in its proper place amid the songs, the sunshine, and the
+fragrance.
+
+Seven o'clock.--It is with men's lives as with days: some dawn radiant
+with a thousand colors, others dark with gloomy clouds. That of my Uncle
+Maurice was one of the latter. He was so sickly, when he came into
+the world, that they thought he must die; but notwithstanding these
+anticipations, which might be called hopes, he continued to live,
+suffering and deformed.
+
+He was deprived of all joys as well as of all the attractions of
+childhood. He was oppressed because he was weak, and laughed at for his
+deformity. In vain the little hunchback opened his arms to the world:
+the world scoffed at him, and went its way.
+
+However, he still had his mother, and it was to her that the child
+directed all the feelings of a heart repelled by others. With her he
+found shelter, and was happy, till he reached the age when a man must
+take his place in life; and Maurice had to content himself with that
+which others had refused with contempt. His education would
+have qualified him for any course of life; and he became an
+octroi-clerk--[The octroi is the tax on provisions levied at the
+entrance of the town]--in one of the little toll-houses at the entrance
+of his native town.
+
+He was always shut up in this dwelling of a few feet square, with no
+relaxation from the office accounts but reading and his mother's visits.
+On fine summer days she came to work at the door of his hut, under the
+shade of a clematis planted by Maurice. And, even when she was silent,
+her presence was a pleasant change for the hunchback; he heard the
+clinking of her long knitting-needles; he saw her mild and mournful
+profile, which reminded him of so many courageously-borne trials; he
+could every now and then rest his hand affectionately on that bowed
+neck, and exchange a smile with her!
+
+This comfort was soon to be taken from him. His old mother fell sick,
+and at the end of a few days he had to give up all hope. Maurice was
+overcome at the idea of a separation which would henceforth leave him
+alone on earth, and abandoned himself to boundless grief. He knelt by
+the bedside of the dying woman, he called her by the fondest names, he
+pressed her in his arms, as if he could so keep her in life. His mother
+tried to return his caresses, and to answer him; but her hands were
+cold, her voice was already gone. She could only press her lips against
+the forehead of her son, heave a sigh, and close her eyes forever!
+
+They tried to take Maurice away, but he resisted them and threw himself
+on that now motionless form.
+
+"Dead!" cried he; "dead! She who had never left me, she who was the only
+one in the world who loved me! You, my mother, dead! What then remains
+for me here below?"
+
+A stifled voice replied:
+
+"God!"
+
+Maurice, startled, raised himself! Was that a last sigh from the dead,
+or his own conscience, that had answered him? He did not seek to know,
+but he understood the answer, and accepted it.
+
+It was then that I first knew him. I often went to see him in his little
+toll-house. He joined in my childish games, told me his finest stories,
+and let me gather his flowers. Deprived as he was of all external
+attractiveness, he showed himself full of kindness to all who came to
+him, and, though he never would put himself forward, he had a welcome
+for everyone. Deserted, despised, he submitted to everything with a
+gentle patience; and while he was thus stretched on the cross of life,
+amid the insults of his executioners, he repeated with Christ, "Father,
+forgive them, for they know not what they do."
+
+No other clerk showed so much honesty, zeal, and intelligence; but those
+who otherwise might have promoted him as his services deserved were
+repelled by his deformity. As he had no patrons, he found his claims
+were always disregarded. They preferred before him those who were better
+able to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor
+when letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live. Uncle
+Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by
+men, he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who
+cannot be deceived.
+
+He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor
+but not as forlorn as he, also lodged. Among these neighbors there was
+a single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came
+both wind and rain. She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing
+to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it. She was
+never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret.
+She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom
+seemed to envelop her like a shroud. Her dejection affected Maurice; he
+attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words. It
+was easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the
+little hunchback's good-will; he perceived it, and said no more.
+
+But Toinette's needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and
+presently work failed her! Maurice learned that the poor girl was in
+want of everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit.
+He immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what
+they supplied Toinette with.
+
+Things went on in this way for several months. The young dressmaker
+continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills
+she had contracted with the shopkeepers. When she came to an explanation
+with them, everything was discovered. Her first impulse was to run to
+Uncle Maurice, and thank him on her knees. Her habitual reserve had
+given way to a burst of deepest feeling. It seemed as if gratitude had
+melted all the ice of that numbed heart.
+
+Being now no longer embarrassed with a secret, the little hunchback
+could give greater efficacy to his good offices. Toinette became to him
+a sister, for whose wants he had a right to provide. It was the first
+time since the death of his mother that he had been able to share his
+life with another. The young woman received his attentions with feeling,
+but with reserve. All Maurice's efforts were insufficient to dispel her
+gloom: she seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her
+sense of it with warmth; but there she stopped. Her heart was a closed
+book, which the little hunchback might bend over, but could not read. In
+truth he cared little to do so; he gave himself up to the happiness of
+being no longer alone, and took Toinette such as her long trials had
+made her; he loved her as she was, and wished for nothing else but still
+to enjoy her company.
+
+This thought insensibly took possession of his mind, to the exclusion
+of all besides. The poor girl was as forlorn as himself; she had become
+accustomed to the deformity of the hunchback, and she seemed to look on
+him with an affectionate sympathy! What more could he wish for? Until
+then, the hopes of making himself acceptable to a helpmate had been
+repelled by Maurice as a dream; but chance seemed willing to make it a
+reality. After much hesitation he took courage, and decided to speak to
+her.
+
+It was evening; the little hunchback, in much agitation, directed his
+steps toward the work-woman's garret just as he was about to enter,
+he thought he heard a strange voice pronouncing the maiden's name.
+He quickly pushed open the door, and perceived Toinette weeping, and
+leaning on the shoulder of a young man in the dress of a sailor.
+
+At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to
+him, crying out:
+
+"Ah! come in--come in! It is he that I thought was dead: it is Julien;
+it is my betrothed!"
+
+Maurice tottered, and drew back. A single word had told him all!
+
+It seemed to him as if the ground shook and his heart was about to
+break; but the same voice that he had heard by his mother's deathbed
+again sounded in his ears, and he soon recovered himself. God was still
+his friend!
+
+He himself accompanied the newly-married pair on the road when they left
+the town, and, after wishing them all the happiness which was denied to
+him, he returned with resignation to the old house in the suburb.
+
+It was there that he ended his life, forsaken by men, but not as he said
+by the Father which is in heaven. He felt His presence everywhere; it
+was to him in the place of all else. When he died, it was with a smile,
+and like an exile setting out for his own country. He who had consoled
+him in poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and
+forsaken by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him.
+
+Eight o'clock.--All I have just written has pained me! Till now I have
+looked into life for instruction how to live. Is it then true that
+human maxims are not always sufficient? that beyond goodness, prudence,
+moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth,
+which alone can face great misfortunes? and that, if man has need of
+virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself?
+
+When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture
+expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy,
+and beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every
+storm in spite of the gods. But later in life, when the back is
+bowed, when happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow
+chill-then, in fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our
+arms, like the child overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who
+is everywhere.
+
+I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society
+and for the individual? In vain does human reason from hour to hour
+light some new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever
+darker! Is it not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther
+from God, the Sun of spirits?
+
+But what do these hermit's reveries signify to the world? The inward
+turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give
+them time to question themselves. Have they time to know what they are,
+and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or
+the last price of stock? Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at
+the earth.
+
+But I--poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power
+nor riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter
+of my spirit--I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my
+childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of
+God with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII. THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME
+
+Sunday, July 1st
+
+Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans
+ended. To-day we enter on July.
+
+In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth),
+because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in
+March. When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name
+of Quintiles was preserved, as well as those that followed--Sexteles,
+September, October, November, December--although these designations did
+not accord with the newly arranged order of the months. At last, after
+a time the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was called
+Julius, whence we have July. Thus this name, placed in the calendar, is
+become the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaph
+on Time's highway, engraved by the admiration of man.
+
+How many similar inscriptions are there! Seas, continents, mountains,
+stars, and monuments, have all in succession served the same purpose! We
+have turned the whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which
+the state of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great
+deeds. It seems that mankind feels a necessity for honoring itself in
+its elect ones, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing
+heroes from among its own race. The human family love to preserve
+the memory; of the parvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great
+ancestor, or of a benefactor.
+
+In fact, the talents granted to a single individual do not benefit
+himself alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, for
+everyone suffers or benefits by his actions. Genius is a lighthouse,
+meant to give light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock upon
+which this lighthouse is built.
+
+I love to dwell upon these thoughts; they explain to me in what consists
+our admiration for glory. When glory has benefited men, that admiration
+is gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride
+of race; as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples of
+humanity.
+
+Who knows whether we do not obey the same instinct in submitting to the
+hand of power? Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, or
+the consequences of a conquest, the multitude delight to surround their
+chiefs with privileges--whether it be that their vanity makes them thus
+to aggrandize one of their own creations, or whether they try to conceal
+the humiliation of subjection by exaggerating the importance of those
+who rule them. They wish to honor themselves through their master; they
+elevate him on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him
+with a halo of light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon
+themselves. It is still the fable of the dog who contents himself with
+the chain and collar, so that they are of gold.
+
+This servile vanity is not less natural or less common than the vanity
+of dominion. Whoever feels himself incapable of command, at least
+desires to obey a powerful chief. Serfs have been known to consider
+themselves dishonored when they became the property of a mere count
+after having been that of a prince, and Saint-Simon mentions a valet who
+would only wait upon marquises.
+
+July 7th, seven o'clock P. M.--I have just now been up the Boulevards;
+it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in the
+Rue Lepelletier. The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossing
+recognized the persons in some of these as we went by, and mentioned
+their names; they were those of celebrated or powerful men, the
+successful ones of the day.
+
+Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes,
+whose thin black coat was threadbare. He followed with envious looks
+these possessors of the privileges of power or of fame, and I read on
+his lips, which curled with a bitter smile, all that passed in his mind.
+
+"Look at them, the lucky fellows!" thought he; "all the pleasures
+of wealth, all the enjoyments of pride, are theirs. Their names are
+renowned, all their wishes fulfilled; they are the sovereigns of the
+world, either by their intellect or their power; and while I, poor and
+unknown, toil painfully along the road below, they wing their way over
+the mountain-tops gilded by the broad sunshine of prosperity."
+
+I have come home in deep thought. Is it true that there are these
+inequalities, I do not say in the fortunes, but in the happiness of men?
+Do genius and authority really wear life as a crown, while the greater
+part of mankind receive it as a yoke? Is the difference of rank but a
+different use of men's dispositions and talents, or a real inequality
+in their destinies? A solemn question, as it regards the verification of
+God's impartiality.
+
+July 8th, noon.--I went this morning to call upon a friend from the
+same province as myself, who is the first usher-in-waiting to one of our
+ministers. I took him some letters from his family, left for him by a
+traveller just come from Brittany. He wished me to stay.
+
+"To-day," said he, "the Minister gives no audience: he takes a day of
+rest with his family. His younger sisters are arrived; he will take them
+this morning to St. Cloud, and in the evening he has invited his friends
+to a private ball. I shall be dismissed directly for the rest of the
+day. We can dine together; read the news while you are waiting for me."
+
+I sat down at a table covered with newspapers, all of which I looked
+over by turns. Most of them contained severe criticisms on the last
+political acts of the minister; some of them added suspicions as to the
+honor of the minister himself.
+
+Just as I had finished reading, a secretary came for them to take them
+to his master.
+
+He was then about to read these accusations, to suffer silently the
+abuse of all those tongues which were holding him up to indignation or
+to scorn! Like the Roman victor in his triumph, he had to endure the
+insults of him who followed his car, relating to the crowd his follies,
+his ignorance, or his vices.
+
+But, among the arrows shot at him from every side, would no one be found
+poisoned? Would not one reach some spot in his heart where the wound
+would be incurable? What is the worth of a life exposed to the attacks
+of envious hatred or furious conviction? The Christians yielded only the
+fragments of their flesh to the beasts of the amphitheatres; the man in
+power gives up his peace, his affections, his honor, to the cruel bites
+of the pen.
+
+While I was musing upon these dangers of greatness, the usher entered
+hastily. Important news had been received: the minister is just summoned
+to the council; he will not be able to take his sisters to St. Cloud.
+
+I saw, through the windows, the young ladies, who were waiting at the
+door, sorrowfully go upstairs again, while their brother went off to the
+council. The carriage, which should have gone filled with so much family
+happiness, is just out of sight, carrying only the cares of a statesman
+in it.
+
+The usher came back discontented and disappointed. The more or less of
+liberty which he is allowed to enjoy, is his barometer of the political
+atmosphere. If he gets leave, all goes well; if he is kept at his
+post, the country is in danger. His opinion on public affairs is but a
+calculation of his own interest. My friend is almost a statesman.
+
+I had some conversation with him, and he told me several curious
+particulars of public life.
+
+The new minister has old friends whose opinions he opposes, though he
+still retains his personal regard for them. Though separated from them
+by the colors he fights under, they remain united by old associations;
+but the exigencies of party forbid him to meet them. If their
+intercourse continued, it would awaken suspicion; people would imagine
+that some dishonorable bargain was going on; his friends would be held
+to be traitors desirous to sell themselves, and he the corrupt minister
+prepared to buy them. He has, therefore, been obliged to break off
+friendships of twenty years' standing, and to sacrifice attachments
+which had become a second nature.
+
+Sometimes, however, the minister still gives way to his old feelings; he
+receives or visits his friends privately; he shuts himself up with
+them, and talks of the times when they could be open friends. By dint
+of precautions they have hitherto succeeded in concealing this blot of
+friendship against policy; but sooner or later the newspapers will be
+informed of it, and will denounce him to the country as an object of
+distrust.
+
+For whether hatred be honest or dishonest, it never shrinks from any
+accusation. Sometimes it even proceeds to crime. The usher assured me
+that several warnings had been given the minister which had made him
+fear the vengeance of an assassin, and that he no longer ventured out on
+foot.
+
+Then, from one thing to another, I learned what temptations came in to
+mislead or overcome his judgment; how he found himself fatally led
+into obliquities which he could not but deplore. Misled by passion,
+over-persuaded by entreaties, or compelled for reputation's sake, he has
+many times held the balance with an unsteady hand. How sad the condition
+of him who is in authority! Not only are the miseries of power imposed
+upon him, but its vices also, which, not content with torturing, succeed
+in corrupting him.
+
+We prolonged our conversation till it was interrupted by the minister's
+return. He threw himself out of the carriage with a handful of papers,
+and with an anxious manner went into his own room. An instant afterward
+his bell was heard; his secretary was called to send off notices to all
+those invited for the evening; the ball would not take place; they
+spoke mysteriously of bad news transmitted by the telegraph, and in such
+circumstances an entertainment would seem to insult the public sorrow.
+
+I took leave of my friend, and here I am at home. What I have just seen
+is an answer to my doubts the other day. Now I know with what pangs men
+pay for their dignities; now I understand
+
+     That Fortune sells what we believe she gives.
+
+This explains to me the reason why Charles V. aspired to the repose of
+the cloister.
+
+And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power.
+What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated
+from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth? of that
+path of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their
+responsibility? of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses
+every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty?
+
+The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies.
+If men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep
+him separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a
+continual worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him
+the superhuman part they have granted him. Our masters cannot remain
+absolute, except on condition of being treated as idols.
+
+But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they
+must lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to
+themselves. Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to
+regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; "so that,"
+says Voltaire, "by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of
+Spain have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment." It
+was by this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such
+an excess of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of
+Uzeda, who alone had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber,
+happened to be absent.
+
+When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she
+was about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette
+forbade them to touch the queen. Two young officers endangered their
+lives for her by stopping the horse. The prayers and tears of her whom
+they had just snatched from death were necessary to obtain pardon for
+their crime. Every one knows the anecdote related by Madame Campan of
+Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI. One day, being at her toilet, when
+the chemise was about to be presented to her by one of the assistants,
+a lady of very ancient family entered and claimed the honor, as she had
+the right by etiquette; but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her
+duty, a lady of higher rank appeared, and in her turn took the garment
+she was about to offer to the queen; when a third lady of still higher
+title came in her turn, and was followed by a fourth, who was no other
+than the king's sister. The chemise was in this manner passed from hand
+to hand, with ceremonies, courtesies, and compliments, before it came
+to the queen, who, half naked and quite ashamed, was shivering with cold
+for the great honor of etiquette.
+
+12th, seven o'clock, P.M.--On coming home this evening, I saw, standing
+at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features
+reminded me of my father. There was the same beautiful smile, the same
+deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the
+same careless attitude.
+
+I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to
+myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given
+me, and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn.
+
+When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by
+an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction.
+
+Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared
+everything that had the appearance of a lesson. He used to say that
+virtue could make herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils:
+therefore he was not desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself
+with sowing the seeds of it, certain that experience would make them
+grow.
+
+How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and,
+when it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and
+come into ear! It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and
+we do not know its value till we find ourselves in need of it.
+
+Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings,
+there is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time
+is come to derive its lesson from it.
+
+My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those
+trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all
+creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led
+a life of poverty and labor. Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns
+shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work
+of a trade of which his master reaped all the profits. In truth, this
+latter had a peculiar talent for making the most of the labor of other
+people. Though unfit himself for the execution of any kind of work, no
+one knew better how to sell it. His words were a net, in which people
+found themselves taken before they were aware. And since he was devoted
+to himself alone, and looked on the producer as his enemy, and the
+buyer as prey, he used them both with that obstinate perseverance which
+avarice teaches.
+
+My father was a slave all the week, and could call himself his own only
+on Sunday. The master naturalist, who used to spend the day at the house
+of an old female relative, then gave him his liberty on condition that
+he dined out, and at his own expense. But my father used secretly to
+take with him a crust of bread, which he hid in his botanizing-box, and,
+leaving Paris as soon as it was day, he would wander far into the valley
+of Montmorency, the wood of Meudon, or among the windings of the
+Marne. Excited by the fresh air, the penetrating perfume of the growing
+vegetation, or the fragrance of the honeysuckles, he would walk on until
+hunger or fatigue made itself felt. Then he would sit under a hedge,
+or by the side of a stream, and would make a rustic feast, by turns
+on watercresses, wood strawberries, and blackberries picked from the
+hedges; he would gather a few plants, read a few pages of Florian,
+then in greatest vogue, of Gessner, who was just translated, or of Jean
+Jacques, of whom he possessed three old volumes. The day was thus passed
+alternately in activity and rest, in pursuit and meditation, until the
+declining sun warned him to take again the road to Paris, where he would
+arrive, his feet torn and dusty, but his mind invigorated for a whole
+week.
+
+One day, as he was going toward the wood of Viroflay, he met, close to
+it, a stranger who was occupied in botanizing and in sorting the plants
+he had just gathered. He was an elderly man with an honest face; but
+his eyes, which were rather deep-set under his eyebrows, had a somewhat
+uneasy and timid expression. He was dressed in a brown cloth coat,
+a gray waistcoat, black breeches, and worsted stockings, and held an
+ivory-headed cane under his arm. His appearance was that of a small
+retired tradesman who was living on his means, and rather below the
+golden mean of Horace.
+
+My father, who had great respect for age, civilly raised his hat to
+him as he passed. In doing so, a plant he held fell from his hand; the
+stranger stooped to take it up, and recognized it.
+
+"It is a Deutaria heptaphyllos," said he; "I have not yet seen any of
+them in these woods; did you find it near here, sir?"
+
+My father replied that it was to be found in abundance on the top of the
+hill, toward Sevres, as well as the great Laserpitium.
+
+"That, too!" repeated the old man more briskly. "Ah! I shall go and look
+for them; I have gathered them formerly on the hillside of Robaila."
+
+My father proposed to take him. The stranger accepted his proposal with
+thanks, and hastened to collect together the plants he had gathered; but
+all of a sudden he appeared seized with a scruple. He observed to his
+companion that the road he was going was halfway up the hill, and led
+in the direction of the castle of the Dames Royales at Bellevue; that by
+going to the top he would consequently turn out of his road, and that it
+was not right he should take this trouble for a stranger.
+
+My father insisted upon it with his habitual good-nature; but, the more
+eagerness he showed, the more obstinately the old man refused; it
+even seemed to my father that his good intention at last excited his
+suspicion. He therefore contented himself with pointing out the road to
+the stranger, whom he saluted, and he soon lost sight of him.
+
+Many hours passed by, and he thought no more of the meeting. He had
+reached the copses of Chaville, where, stretched on the ground in a
+mossy glade, he read once more the last volume of Emile. The delight of
+reading it had so completely absorbed him that he had ceased to see or
+hear anything around him. With his cheeks flushed and his eyes moist, he
+repeated aloud a passage which had particularly affected him.
+
+An exclamation uttered close by him awoke him from his ecstasy; he
+raised his head, and perceived the tradesman-looking person he had met
+before on the crossroad at Viroflay.
+
+He was loaded with plants, the collection of which seemed to have put
+him into high good-humor.
+
+"A thousand thanks, sir," said he to my father. "I have found all that
+you told me of, and I am indebted to you for a charming walk."
+
+My father respectfully rose, and made a civil reply. The stranger had
+grown quite familiar, and even asked if his young "brother botanist" did
+not think of returning to Paris. My father replied in the affirmative,
+and opened his tin box to put his book back in it.
+
+The stranger asked him with a smile if he might without impertinence ask
+the name of it. My father answered that it was Rousseau's Emile.
+
+The stranger immediately became grave.
+
+They walked for some time side by side, my father expressing, with the
+warmth of a heart still throbbing with emotion, all that this work
+had made him feel; his companion remaining cold and silent. The former
+extolled the glory of the great Genevese writer, whose genius had made
+him a citizen of the world; he expatiated on this privilege of great
+thinkers, who reign in spite of time and space, and gather together a
+people of willing subjects out of all nations; but the stranger suddenly
+interrupted him:
+
+"And how do you know," said he, mildly, "whether Jean Jacques would not
+exchange the reputation which you seem to envy for the life of one of
+the wood-cutters whose chimneys' smoke we see? What has fame brought him
+except persecution? The unknown friends whom his books may have made
+for him content themselves with blessing him in their hearts, while the
+declared enemies that they have drawn upon him pursue him with violence
+and calumny! His pride has been flattered by success: how many times has
+it been wounded by satire? And be assured that human pride is like the
+Sybarite who was prevented from sleeping by a crease in a roseleaf. The
+activity of a vigorous mind, by which the world profits, almost always
+turns against him who possesses it. He expects more from it as he grows
+older; the ideal he pursues continually disgusts him with the actual;
+he is like a man who, with a too-refined sight, discerns spots and
+blemishes in the most beautiful face. I will not speak of stronger
+temptations and of deeper downfalls. Genius, you have said, is a
+kingdom; but what virtuous man is not afraid of being a king? He who
+feels only his great powers, is--with the weaknesses and passions of our
+nature--preparing for great failures. Believe me, sir, the unhappy man
+who wrote this book is no object of admiration or of envy; but, if you
+have a feeling heart, pity him!"
+
+My father, astonished at the excitement with which his companion
+pronounced these last words, did not know what to answer.
+
+Just then they reached the paved road which led from Meudon Castle to
+that of Versailles; a carriage was passing.
+
+The ladies who were in it perceived the old man, uttered an exclamation
+of surprise, and leaning out of the window repeated:
+
+"There is Jean Jacques--there is Rousseau!"
+
+Then the carriage disappeared in the distance.
+
+My father remained motionless, confounded, and amazed, his eyes wide
+open, and his hands clasped.
+
+Rousseau, who had shuddered on hearing his name spoken, turned toward
+him:
+
+"You see," said he, with the bitter misanthropy which his later
+misfortunes had produced in him, "Jean Jacques cannot even hide himself:
+he is an object of curiosity to some, of malignity to others, and to all
+he is a public thing, at which they point the finger. It would signify
+less if he had only to submit to the impertinence of the idle; but, as
+soon as a man has had the misfortune to make himself a name, he becomes
+public property. Every one rakes into his life, relates his most trivial
+actions, and insults his feelings; he becomes like those walls, which
+every passer-by may deface with some abusive writing. Perhaps you
+will say that I have myself encouraged this curiosity by publishing my
+Confessions. But the world forced me to it. They looked into my house
+through the blinds, and they slandered me; I have opened the doors and
+windows, so that they should at least know me such as I am. Adieu, sir.
+Whenever you wish to know the worth of fame, remember that you have seen
+Rousseau."
+
+Nine o'clock.--Ah! now I understand my father's story! It contains the
+answer to one of the questions I asked myself a week ago. Yes, I now
+feel that fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought; and that,
+when they dazzle the soul, both are oftenest, as Madame de Stael says,
+but 'un deuil eclatant de bonheur!
+
+          'Tis better to be lowly born,
+          And range with humble livers in content,
+          Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
+          And wear a golden sorrow.
+
+          [Henry VIII., Act II., Scene 3.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII. MISANTHROPY AND REPENTANCE
+
+August 3d, Nine O'clock P.M.
+
+There are days when everything appears gloomy to us; the world, like the
+sky, is covered by a dark fog. Nothing seems in its place; we see only
+misery, improvidence, and cruelty; the world seems without God, and
+given up to all the evils of chance.
+
+Yesterday I was in this unhappy humor. After a long walk in the
+faubourgs, I returned home, sad and dispirited.
+
+Everything I had seen seemed to accuse the civilization of which we are
+so proud! I had wandered into a little by-street, with which I was not
+acquainted, and I found myself suddenly in the middle of those dreadful
+abodes where the poor are born, to languish and die. I looked at those
+decaying walls, which time has covered with a foul leprosy; those
+windows, from which dirty rags hang out to dry; those fetid gutters,
+which coil along the fronts of the houses like venomous reptiles! I felt
+oppressed with grief, and hastened on.
+
+A little farther on I was stopped by the hearse of a hospital; a dead
+man, nailed down in his deal coffin, was going to his last abode,
+without funeral pomp or ceremony, and without followers. There was not
+here even that last friend of the outcast--the dog, which a painter has
+introduced as the sole attendant at the pauper's burial! He whom they
+were preparing to commit to the earth was going to the tomb, as he had
+lived, alone; doubtless no one would be aware of his end. In this battle
+of society, what signifies a soldier the less?
+
+But what, then, is this human society, if one of its members can thus
+disappear like a leaf carried away by the wind?
+
+The hospital was near a barrack, at the entrance of which old men,
+women, and children were quarrelling for the remains of the coarse
+bread which the soldiers had given them in charity! Thus, beings like
+ourselves daily wait in destitution on our compassion till we give
+them leave to live! Whole troops of outcasts, in addition to the trials
+imposed on all God's children, have to endure the pangs of cold, hunger,
+and humiliation. Unhappy human commonwealth! Where man is in a worse
+condition than the bee in its hive, or the ant in its subterranean city!
+
+Ah! what then avails our reason? What is the use of so many high
+faculties, if we are neither the wiser nor the happier for them? Which
+of us would not exchange his life of labor and trouble with that of the
+birds of the air, to whom the whole world is a life of joy?
+
+How well I understand the complaint of Mao, in the popular tales of the
+'Foyer Breton' who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks
+at the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees:
+
+"Alas! those birds are happier than Christians; they have no need of
+inns, or butchers, or bakers, or gardeners. God's heaven belongs to
+them, and earth spreads a continual feast before them! The tiny flies
+are their game, ripe grass their cornfields, and hips and haws their
+store of fruit. They have the right of taking everywhere, without paying
+or asking leave: thus comes it that the little birds are happy, and sing
+all the livelong day!"
+
+But the life of man in a natural state is like that of the birds; he
+equally enjoys nature. "The earth spreads a continual feast before him."
+What, then, has he gained by that selfish and imperfect association
+which forms a nation? Would it not be better for every one to turn again
+to the fertile bosom of nature, and live there upon her bounty in peace
+and liberty?
+
+August 20th, four o'clock A.M.--The dawn casts a red glow on my
+bed-curtains; the breeze brings in the fragrance of the gardens below.
+Here I am again leaning on my elbows by the windows, inhaling the
+freshness and gladness of this first wakening of the day.
+
+My eye always passes over the roofs filled with flowers, warbling, and
+sunlight, with the same pleasure; but to-day it stops at the end of a
+buttress which separates our house from the next.
+
+The storms have stripped the top of its plaster covering, and dust
+carried by the wind has collected in the crevices, and, being fixed
+there by the rain, has formed a sort of aerial terrace, where some green
+grass has sprung up. Among it rises a stalk of wheat, which to-day is
+surmounted by a sickly ear that droops its yellow head.
+
+This poor stray crop on the roofs, the harvest of which will fall to the
+neighboring sparrows, has carried my thoughts to the rich crops which
+are now falling beneath the sickle; it has recalled to me the
+beautiful walks I took as a child through my native province, when the
+threshing-floors at the farmhouses resounded from every part with the
+sound of a flail, and when the carts, loaded with golden sheaves, came
+in by all the roads. I still remember the songs of the maidens, the
+cheerfulness of the old men, the open-hearted merriment of the laborers.
+There was, at that time, something in their looks both of pride and
+feeling. The latter came from thankfulness to God, the former from the
+sight of the harvest, the reward of their labor. They felt indistinctly
+the grandeur and the holiness of their part in the general work of the
+world; they looked with pride upon their mountains of corn-sheaves, and
+they seemed to say, Next to God, it is we who feed the world!
+
+What a wonderful order there is in all human labor!
+
+While the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for every one his
+daily bread, the town artizan, far away, weaves the stuff in which he
+is to be clothed; the miner seeks underground the iron for his plow; the
+soldier defends him against the invader; the judge takes care that
+the law protects his fields; the tax-comptroller adjusts his private
+interests with those of the public; the merchant occupies himself in
+exchanging his products with those of distant countries; the men of
+science and of art add every day a few horses to this ideal team, which
+draws along the material world, as steam impels the gigantic trains of
+our iron roads! Thus all unite together, all help one another; the
+toil of each one benefits himself and all the world; the work has been
+apportioned among the different members of the whole of society by a
+tacit agreement. If, in this apportionment, errors are committed,
+if certain individuals have not been employed according to their
+capacities, those defects of detail diminish in the sublime conception
+of the whole. The poorest man included in this association has his
+place, his work, his reason for being there; each is something in the
+whole.
+
+There is nothing like this for man in the state of nature. As he depends
+only upon himself, it is necessary that he be sufficient for everything.
+All creation is his property; but he finds in it as many hindrances as
+helps. He must surmount these obstacles with the single strength that
+God has given him; he cannot reckon on any other aid than chance and
+opportunity. No one reaps, manufactures, fights, or thinks for him; he
+is nothing to any one. He is a unit multiplied by the cipher of his own
+single powers; while the civilized man is a unit multiplied by the whole
+of society.
+
+But, notwithstanding this, the other day, disgusted by the sight of some
+vices in detail, I cursed the latter, and almost envied the life of the
+savage.
+
+One of the infirmities of our nature is always to mistake feeling for
+evidence, and to judge of the season by a cloud or a ray of sunshine.
+
+Was the misery, the sight of which made me regret a savage life, really
+the effect of civilization? Must we accuse society of having created
+these evils, or acknowledge, on the contrary, that it has alleviated
+them? Could the women and children, who were receiving the coarse bread
+from the soldier, hope in the desert for more help or pity? That dead
+man, whose forsaken state I deplored, had he not found, by the cares of
+a hospital, a coffin and the humble grave where he was about to rest?
+Alone, and far from men, he would have died like the wild beast in his
+den, and would now be serving as food for vultures! These benefits of
+human society are shared, then, by the most destitute. Whoever eats the
+bread that another has reaped and kneaded, is under an obligation to his
+brother, and cannot say he owes him nothing in return. The poorest of us
+has received from society much more than his own single strength would
+have permitted him to wrest from nature.
+
+But cannot society give us more? Who doubts it? Errors have been
+committed in this distribution of tasks and workers. Time will diminish
+the number of them; with new lights a better division will arise; the
+elements of society go on toward perfection, like everything else. The
+difficulty is to know how to adapt ourselves to the slow step of time,
+whose progress can never be forced on without danger.
+
+August 14th, six o'clock A.M.--My garret window rises upon the roof like
+a massive watch-tower. The corners are covered by large sheets of lead,
+which run into the tiles; the successive action of cold and heat has
+made them rise, and so a crevice has been formed in an angle on the
+right side. There a sparrow has built her nest.
+
+I have followed the progress of this aerial habitation from the first
+day. I have seen the bird successively bring the straw, moss, and wool
+designed for the construction of her abode; and I have admired the
+persevering skill she expended in this difficult work. At first, my new
+neighbor spent her days in fluttering over the poplar in the garden, and
+in chirping along the gutters; a fine lady's life seemed the only one to
+suit her. Then all of a sudden, the necessity of preparing a shelter
+for her brood transformed our idler into a worker; she no longer gave
+herself either rest or relaxation. I saw her always either flying,
+fetching, or carrying; neither rain nor sun stopped her. A striking
+example of the power of necessity! We are indebted to it not only for
+most of our talents, but for many of our virtues!
+
+Is it not necessity that has given the people of less favored climates
+that constant activity which has placed them so quickly at the head of
+nations? As they are deprived of most of the gifts of nature, they
+have supplied them by their industry; necessity has sharpened their
+understanding, endurance awakened their foresight. While elsewhere man,
+warmed by an ever brilliant sun, and loaded with the bounties of the
+earth, was remaining poor, ignorant, and naked, in the midst of gifts he
+did not attempt to explore, here he was forced by necessity to wrest his
+food from the ground, to build habitations to defend himself from the
+intemperance of the weather, and to warm his body by clothing himself
+with the wool of animals. Work makes him both more intelligent and more
+robust: disciplined by it, he seems to mount higher on the ladder of
+creation, while those more favored by nature remain on the step nearest
+to the brutes.
+
+I made these reflections while looking at the bird, whose instinct
+seemed to have become more acute since she had been occupied in work.
+At last the nest was finished; she set up her household there, and I
+followed her through all the phases of her new existence.
+
+When she had sat on the eggs, and the young ones were hatched, she fed
+them with the most attentive care. The corner of my window had become
+a stage of moral action, which fathers and mothers might come to take
+lessons from. The little ones soon became large, and this morning I have
+seen them take their first flight. One of them, weaker than the others,
+was not able to clear the edge of the roof, and fell into the gutter.
+I caught him with some difficulty, and placed him again on the tile in
+front of his house, but the mother has not noticed him. Once freed from
+the cares of a family, she has resumed her wandering life among the
+trees and along the roofs. In vain I have kept away from my window, to
+take from her every excuse for fear; in vain the feeble little bird
+has called to her with plaintive cries; his bad mother has passed by,
+singing and fluttering with a thousand airs and graces. Once only the
+father came near; he looked at his offspring with contempt, and then
+disappeared, never to return!
+
+I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how
+to peck it with his bill. I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the
+forsaken nest. What will become of him there, if his mother does not
+come back!
+
+August 15th, six o'clock.--This morning, on opening my window, I found
+the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he had
+been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother. I tried in vain to
+warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his
+eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down! I placed him on the
+roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window. The struggle of life
+against death has always something gloomy in it: it is a warning to us.
+
+Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old
+neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts.
+
+It was my portress. Excellent woman! She wished me to read a letter from
+her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her.
+
+I kept it, to copy it in my journal. Here it is:
+
+   "DEAR MOTHER: This is to tell you that I have been very well ever
+   since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with
+   the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a
+   better craft anywhere.
+
+   "A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I
+   saw the captain sinking. I went after him, as was my duty, and,
+   after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which
+   pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had
+   recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would
+   have done to an officer.
+
+   "I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me.
+   But it isn't all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded
+   them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I
+   am promoted to be a sailor of the first class! Directly I knew it,
+   I cried out, 'My mother shall have coffee twice a day!' And really,
+   dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have
+   a larger allowance to send you.
+
+   "I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do
+   me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want
+   for nothing.
+
+   "Your son, from the bottom of my heart,
+
+                         "JACQUES."
+
+This is the answer that the portress dictated to me:
+
+   "MY GOOD JACQUOT: It makes me very happy to see that your heart is
+   still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have
+   brought you up. I need not tell you to take care of your life,
+   because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you,
+   dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not
+   bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty.
+
+   "Do not fear for my health, good Jacques; I was never better! I do
+   not grow old at all, for fear of making you unhappy. I want
+   nothing, and I live like a lady. I even had some money over this
+   year, and as my drawers shut very badly, I put it into the savings'
+   bank, where I have opened an account in your name. So, when you
+   come back, you will find yourself with an income. I have also
+   furnished your chest with new linen, and I have knitted you three
+   new sea-jackets.
+
+   "All your friends are well. Your cousin is just dead, leaving his
+   widow in difficulties. I gave her your thirty francs' remittance
+   and said that you had sent it her; and the poor woman remembers you
+   day and night in her prayers. So, you see, I have put that money in
+   another sort of savings' bank; but there it is our hearts that get
+   the interest.
+
+   "Good-bye, dear Jacquot. Write to me often, and always remember the
+   good God, and your old mother,
+
+                    "PHROSINE MILLOT."
+
+Good son, and worthy mother! how such examples bring us back to a love
+for the human race! In a fit of fanciful misanthropy, we may envy the
+fate of the savage, and prefer that of the bird to such as he; but
+impartial observation soon does justice to such paradoxes. We find, on
+examination, that in the mixed good and evil of human nature, the good
+so far abounds that we are not in the habit of noticing it, while the
+evil strikes us precisely on account of its being the exception. If
+nothing is perfect, nothing is so bad as to be without its compensation
+or its remedy. What spiritual riches are there in the midst of the evils
+of society! how much does the moral world redeem the material!
+
+That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his
+power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice. The mother
+who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to
+them the necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the
+preservation of her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a
+rational choice. When she had accomplished the mission appointed her
+by Providence, she cast off the duty as we get rid of a burden, and
+she returned again to her selfish liberty. The other mother, on the
+contrary, will go on with her task as long as God shall leave her here
+below: the life of her son will still remain, so to speak, joined to her
+own; and when she disappears from the earth, she will leave there that
+part of herself.
+
+Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from
+all the rest of creation. Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial
+immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone
+perpetuates himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX. THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT
+
+September 15th, Eight O'clock
+
+This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in,
+and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For the
+nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in
+her little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but
+Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm,
+and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of our
+acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my
+patronage has become her property.
+
+She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is
+a joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs
+again immediately to send him to me.
+
+At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice:
+but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial
+as usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?
+
+Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that
+she might think she had received her full share already. Were I to live
+a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her
+known to me, and which obtained for her my respect.
+
+It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed
+her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by
+its forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have always
+instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them,
+but it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother
+in poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope
+to those whose very existence is in peril--the only means by which some
+orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to
+enrich himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more than
+an exchange--it is a good action.
+
+Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that
+fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among
+the poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to
+become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a
+worshipper of Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was always
+reduced to two or three working days, were completely dedicated by him
+to the worship of this god of the Barriers,--[The cheap wine shops are
+outside the Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]--and
+Genevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the
+household.
+
+One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I
+heard a sound of quarrelling in the back shop. There were the voices of
+several women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by
+sobs. On looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a child
+in her arms, and kissing it, while a country nurse seemed to be claiming
+her wages from her. The poor woman, who without doubt had exhausted
+every explanation and every excuse, was crying in silence, and one of
+her neighbors was trying in vain to appease the countrywoman. Excited by
+that love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too well
+excuse, and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nurse
+was launching forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse. In spite
+of myself, I listened to the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and not
+thinking of going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door.
+
+The joiner had just come from the Barriers, where he had passed part of
+the day at a public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and untied at the
+throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in his hand he held
+his cap, which he had just picked up out of the mud; his hair was in
+disorder, his eye fixed, and the pallor of drunkenness in his face. He
+came reeling in, looked wildly around him, and called Genevieve.
+
+She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the
+sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself,
+she pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with tears.
+
+The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her.
+
+"Come! come!" cried the former in a rage, "do you intend to pay me,
+after all?"
+
+"Ask the master for the money," ironically answered the woman from
+the next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the
+counter.
+
+The countrywoman looked at him.
+
+"Ah! he is the father," returned she. "Well, what idle beggars! not to
+have a penny to pay honest people; and get tipsy with wine in that way."
+
+The drunkard raised his head.
+
+"What! what!" stammered he; "who is it that talks of wine? I've had
+nothing but brandy! But I am going back again to get some wine! Wife,
+give me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the 'Pere
+la Tuille'."
+
+Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till,
+and began to rummage in it.
+
+"You see where the money of the house goes!" observed the neighbor to
+the countrywoman; "how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes
+all?"
+
+"Is that my fault?" replied the nurse, angrily. "They owe to me, and
+somehow or other they must pay me!"
+
+And letting loose her tongue, as these women out of the country do, she
+began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child, and
+all the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all
+she had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her
+rights, and to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared
+that her violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop,
+and put it into its cradle.
+
+Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to
+escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but
+she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarrelling,
+with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The joiner, who was
+still rummaging in the till, was startled, and raised his head.
+
+At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms
+the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran
+toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband, cried:
+
+"Michael, defend your son!"
+
+The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a
+start.
+
+"My son!" stammered he; "what son?"
+
+His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over
+his features.
+
+"Robert," resumed he; "it is Robert!"
+
+He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but
+he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage.
+
+"My money, or I shall take the child away!" cried she. "It is I who have
+fed and brought it up: if you don't pay me for what has made it live, it
+ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go until I
+have my due, or the baby."
+
+"And what would you do with him?" murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert
+against her bosom.
+
+"Take it to the Foundling!" replied the countrywoman, harshly; "the
+hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of
+its little ones."
+
+At the word "Foundling," Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror. With
+her arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her
+two hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained
+with her back against it, like a lioness defending her young. The
+neighbor and I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could
+interfere. As for Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible
+effort to comprehend it all. When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the
+child, it lit up with a gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us,
+he again became stupid and hesitating.
+
+At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, "Wait!"
+
+And going to a tub filled with water, he plunged his face into it
+several times.
+
+Every eye was turned upon him; the countrywoman herself seemed
+astonished. At length he raised his dripping head. This ablution had
+partly dispelled his drunkenness; he looked at us for a moment, then he
+turned to Genevieve, and his face brightened up.
+
+"Robert!" cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms.
+"Ah! give him me, wife; I must look at him."
+
+The mother seemed to give up his son to him with reluctance, and stayed
+before him with her arms extended, as if she feared the child would
+have a fall. The nurse began again in her turn to speak, and renewed
+her claims, this time threatening to appeal to law. At first Michael
+listened to her attentively, and when he comprehended her meaning, he
+gave the child back to its mother.
+
+"How much do we owe you?" asked he.
+
+The countrywoman began to reckon up the different expenses, which
+amounted to nearly thirty francs. The joiner felt to the bottom of
+his pockets, but could find nothing. His forehead became contracted by
+frowns; low curses began to escape him. All of a sudden he rummaged in
+his breast, drew forth a large watch, and holding it up above his head:
+
+"Here it is--here's your money!" cried he with a joyful laugh; "a watch,
+a good one! I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry day; but it
+is not I who will drink it, but the young one. Ah! ah! ah! go and sell
+it for me, neighbor, and if that is not enough, I have my earrings.
+Eh! Genevieve, take them off for me; the earrings will square all! They
+shall not say you have been disgraced on account of the child--no, not
+even if I must pledge a bit of my flesh! My watch, my earrings, and my
+ring--get rid of all of them for me at the goldsmith's; pay the woman,
+and let the little fool go to sleep. Give him me, Genevieve; I will put
+him to bed."
+
+And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him with a
+firm step to his cradle.
+
+It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from
+this day. He cut all his old drinking acquaintances. He went early every
+morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the
+day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not leave them at all,
+and he hired a place near the fruit-shop, and worked in it on his own
+account.
+
+They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been for
+the expenses which the child required. Everything was given up to his
+education. He had gone through the regular school training, had studied
+mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter's trade, and had only begun to
+work a few months ago. Till now, they had been exhausting every resource
+which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his
+business; and, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the
+seed had brought forth fruit, and the days of harvest were close by.
+
+While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had
+come in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted.
+
+During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also
+scrutinizing the joiner.
+
+The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply
+marked his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stoop, his
+legs are shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in
+his whole being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and
+despondency. He answers my questions by monosyllables, and like a man
+who wishes to avoid conversation. Whence comes this dejection, when one
+would think he had all he could wish for? I should like to know!
+
+Ten o'clock.--Michael is just gone downstairs to look for a tool he has
+forgotten. I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of
+his and Genevieve's sorrow. Their son Robert is the cause of it!
+
+Not that he has turned out ill after all their care--not that he is
+idle or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any
+more. The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad
+their lives once more; his mother counted the days, his father prepared
+everything to receive their dear associate in their toils; and at the
+moment when they were thus about to be repaid for all their sacrifices,
+Robert had suddenly informed them that he had just engaged himself to a
+contractor at Versailles.
+
+Every remonstrance and every prayer were useless; he brought forward
+the necessity of initiating himself into all the details of an important
+contract, the facilities he should have in his new position of improving
+himself in his trade, and the hopes he had of turning his knowledge
+to advantage. At, last, when his mother, having come to the end of her
+arguments, began to cry, he hastily kissed her, and went away that he
+might avoid any further remonstrances.
+
+He had been absent a year, and there was nothing to give them hopes of
+his return. His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only
+stayed a few moments with them.
+
+"I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded," Michael said to
+me just now. "I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has
+given me an ambitious and avaricious one! I had always said to myself
+that when once he was grown up we should have him always with us,
+to recall our youth and to enliven our hearts. His mother was always
+thinking of getting him married, and having children again to care for.
+You know women always will busy themselves about others. As for me, I
+thought of him working near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he
+has learnt music, and is one of the best singers at the Orpheon.
+
+"A dream, sir, truly! Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight,
+and remembers neither father nor mother. Yesterday, for instance, was
+the day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us. No
+Robert to-day, either! He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain
+to arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after
+the customers and the joiner's work. Ah! if I could have guessed how it
+would have turned out! Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money,
+for nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son! Was it
+for this I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with
+my friends, to become an example to the neighborhood? The jovial good
+fellow has made a goose of himself. Oh! if I had to begin again! No, no!
+you see women and children are our bane. They soften our hearts; they
+lead us a life of hope and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives in
+fostering the growth of a grain of corn which is to be everything to us
+in our old age, and when the harvest-time comes--good-night, the ear is
+empty!"
+
+While he was speaking, Michael's voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce,
+and his lips quivered. I wished to answer him, but I could only think of
+commonplace consolations, and I remained silent. The joiner pretended he
+needed a tool, and left me.
+
+Poor father! Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has
+failed to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her! Who has not felt
+this weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once,
+the mournful exclamation of Brutus?
+
+But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true
+and real? No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain! It does not
+always give the happiness we had hoped for, but it brings some other. In
+the world everything is ruled by order, and has its proper and necessary
+consequences, and virtue cannot be the sole exception to the general
+law. If it had been prejudicial to those who practised it, experience
+would have avenged them; but experience has, on the contrary, made it
+more universal and more holy. We only accuse it of being a faithless
+debtor because we demand an immediate payment, and one apparent to our
+senses. We always consider life as a fairytale, in which every good
+action must be rewarded by a visible wonder. We do not accept as payment
+a peaceful conscience, self-content, or a good name among men--treasures
+that are more precious than any other, but the value of which we do not
+feel till after we have lost them!
+
+Michael is come back, and has returned to his work. His son has not yet
+arrived.
+
+By telling me of his hopes and his grievous disappointments, he became
+excited; he unceasingly went over again the same subject, always adding
+something to his griefs. He had just wound up his confidential discourse
+by speaking to me of a joiner's business which he had hoped to buy, and
+work to good account with Robert's help. The present owner had made a
+fortune by it, and, after thirty years of business, he was thinking of
+retiring to one of the ornamental cottages in the outskirts of the city,
+a usual retreat for the frugal and successful workingman. Michael had
+not indeed the two thousand francs which must be paid down; but perhaps
+he could have persuaded Master Benoit to wait. Robert's presence would
+have been a security for him, for the young man could not fail to insure
+the prosperity of a workshop; besides science and skill, he had the
+power of invention and bringing to perfection. His father had discovered
+among his drawings a new plan for a staircase, which had occupied his
+thoughts for a long time; and he even suspected him of having engaged
+himself to the Versailles contractor for the very purpose of executing
+it. The youth was tormented by this spirit of invention, which took
+possession of all his thoughts, and, while devoting his mind to study,
+he had no time to listen to his feelings.
+
+Michael told me all this with a mixed feeling of pride and vexation. I
+saw he was proud of the son he was abusing, and that his very pride made
+him more sensitive to that son's neglect.
+
+Six o'clock P.M.--I have just finished a happy day. How many events
+have happened within a few hours, and what a change for Genevieve and
+Michael!
+
+He had just finished fixing the shelves, and telling me of his son,
+while I laid the cloth for my breakfast.
+
+Suddenly we heard hurried steps in the passage, the door opened, and
+Genevieve entered with Robert.
+
+The joiner gave a start of joyful surprise, but he repressed it
+immediately, as if he wished to keep up the appearance of displeasure.
+
+The young man did not appear to notice it, but threw himself into his
+arms in an open-hearted manner, which surprised me. Genevieve, whose
+face shone with happiness, seemed to wish to speak, and to restrain
+herself with difficulty.
+
+I told Robert I was glad to see him, and he answered me with ease and
+civility.
+
+"I expected you yesterday," said Michael Arout, rather dryly.
+
+"Forgive me, father," replied the young workman, "but I had business at
+St. Germain's. I was not able to come back till it was very late, and
+then the master kept me."
+
+The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer
+again.
+
+"All right," muttered he, in a grumbling tone; "when we are with other
+people we must do as they wish; but there are some who would like better
+to eat brown bread with their own knife than partridges with the silver
+fork of a master."
+
+"And I am one of those, father," replied Robert, merrily, "but, as the
+proverb says, 'you must shell the peas before you can eat them.' It was
+necessary that I should first work in a great workshop--"
+
+"To go on with your plan of the staircase," interrupted Michael,
+ironically.
+
+"You must now say Monsieur Raymond's plan, father," replied Robert,
+smiling.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I have sold it to him."
+
+The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly.
+
+"Sold it!" cried he, with sparkling eyes.
+
+"For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him."
+
+Michael threw down the board and tool.
+
+"There he is again!" resumed he, angrily; "his good genius puts an idea
+into his head which would have made him known, and he goes and sells it
+to a rich man, who will take the honor of it himself."
+
+"Well, what harm is there done?" asked Genevieve.
+
+"What harm!" cried the joiner, in a passion. "You understand nothing
+about it--you are a woman; but he--he knows well that a true workman
+never gives up his own inventions for money, no more than a soldier
+would give up his cross. That is his glory; he is bound to keep it for
+the honor it does him! Ah, thunder! if I had ever made a discovery,
+rather than put it up at auction I would have sold one of my eyes! Don't
+you see that a new invention is like a child to a workman? He takes care
+of it, he brings it up, he makes a way for it in the world, and it is
+only a poor creature who sells it."
+
+Robert colored a little.
+
+"You will think differently, father," said he, "when you know why I sold
+my plan."
+
+"Yes, and you will thank him for it," added Genevieve, who could no
+longer keep silence.
+
+"Never!" replied Michael.
+
+"But, wretched man!" cried she, "he sold it only for our sakes!"
+
+The joiner looked at his wife and son with astonishment. It was
+necessary to come to an explanation. The latter related how he had
+entered into a negotiation with Master Benoit, who had positively
+refused to sell his business unless one half of the two thousand francs
+were first paid down. It was in the hopes of obtaining this sum that
+he had gone to work with the contractor at Versailles; he had had an
+opportunity of trying his invention, and of finding a purchaser. Thanks
+to the money he received for it, he had just concluded the bargain with
+Benoit, and had brought his father the key of the new work-yard.
+
+This explanation was given by the young workman with so much modesty
+and simplicity that I was quite affected by it. Genevieve cried; Michael
+pressed his son to his heart, and in a long embrace he seemed to ask his
+pardon for having unjustly accused him.
+
+All was now explained with honor to Robert. The conduct which his
+parents had ascribed to indifference really sprang from affection; he
+had neither obeyed the voice of ambition nor of avarice, nor even the
+nobler inspiration of inventive genius: his whole motive and single aim
+had been the happiness of Genevieve and Michael. The day for proving his
+gratitude had come, and he had returned them sacrifice for sacrifice!
+
+After the explanations and exclamations of joy were over, all three were
+about to leave me; but, the cloth being laid, I added three more places,
+and kept them to breakfast.
+
+The meal was prolonged: the fare was only tolerable; but the
+over-flowings of affection made it delicious. Never had I better
+understood the unspeakable charm of family love. What calm enjoyment in
+that happiness which is always shared with others; in that community
+of interests which unites such various feelings; in that association of
+existences which forms one single being of so many! What is man without
+those home affections, which, like so many roots, fix him firmly in
+the earth, and permit him to imbibe all the juices of life? Energy,
+happiness--do not all these come from them? Without family life where
+would man learn to love, to associate, to deny himself? A community in
+little, is it not this which teaches us how to live in the great one?
+Such is the holiness of home, that, to express our relation with God, we
+have been obliged to borrow the words invented for our family life. Men
+have named themselves the sons of a heavenly Father!
+
+Ah! let us carefully preserve these chains of domestic union. Do not let
+us unbind the human sheaf, and scatter its ears to all the caprices of
+chance and of the winds; but let us rather enlarge this holy law; let us
+carry the principles and the habits of home beyond set bounds; and, if
+it may be, let us realize the prayer of the Apostle of the Gentiles
+when he exclaimed to the newborn children of Christ: "Be ye like-minded,
+having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind."
+
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X. OUR COUNTRY
+
+
+October 12th, Seven O'clock A.M.
+
+The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through my
+curtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even when
+my eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under
+my counterpane. Every morning there begins a long argument between my
+activity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I wait
+like the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement.
+
+This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my
+pillow, awoke me earlier than usual. In vain I turned on my side;
+the persevering light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into every
+position. At last, quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled my
+nightcap to the foot of the bed!
+
+(I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions of
+this pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbols
+of the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed its
+most common images from them.)
+
+But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my
+new neighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to
+sleep. We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live
+on their own account. Each one of us is like the earth, according to the
+old system of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolve
+around himself. On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to:
+'Tous les hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet'.
+
+I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to the
+other end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the
+warm bedclothes, while making a host of evil reflections upon the
+inconvenience of having neighbors.
+
+For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance
+had given me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again
+on rising. I was almost always alone on this top story--alone with the
+clouds and the sparrows!
+
+But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, like
+the seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take mere
+passengers. How many different faces have I already seen pass along the
+landing-place belonging to our attics! How many companions of a few days
+have disappeared forever! Some are lost in that medley of the living
+which whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others in
+that resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God!
+
+Peter the bookbinder is one of these last. Wrapped up in selfishness,
+he lived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived. His loss was
+neither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; there
+was merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied in
+our house.
+
+It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few
+days.
+
+To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with
+my nightcap)--to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier
+than suits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries
+his misfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, with
+cheerfulness and moderation.
+
+But fate has cruelly tried him. Father Chaufour is but the wreck of a
+man. In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left leg
+is made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; but
+above these ruins rises a calm and happy face. While looking upon his
+countenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice,
+the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see
+that the soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering. The
+fortress is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrison
+is quite hearty.
+
+Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproach
+myself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke.
+
+We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor.
+All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent to
+us, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sin
+which does not betray itself by action!
+
+But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws? Besides
+these external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling
+between men? Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven
+as ourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes? Ought not
+every human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with our
+prayers for a happy voyage? It is not enough that men do not harm
+one another; they must also help and love one another! The papal
+benediction, 'Urbi et orbi'! should be the constant cry from all hearts.
+To condemn him who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by a
+passing thought, is to break the great law, that which has established
+the union of souls here below, and to which Christ has given the sweet
+name of charity.
+
+These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said to
+myself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me. To make
+amends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed
+him some explicit proof of sympathy. I heard him humming a tune in
+his room; he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first
+neighborly call.
+
+Eight o'clock P.M.--I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by a
+little smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, and
+making large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a low
+tone. I had hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation of
+surprise and pleasure.
+
+"Eh! is it you, neighbor? Come in, then! I did not think you got up so
+early, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you."
+
+Excellent man! while I was sending him to the devil he was putting
+himself out of his way for me!
+
+This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having become
+my neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart.
+
+"Faith! you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian," said he in
+a voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand. "I do not
+like those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, and
+treat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks. When men snuff the same
+air, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs
+to each other. Sit down there, neighbor; I don't mean to order you; only
+take care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-will
+in place of the fourth."
+
+"It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here," I
+observed.
+
+"Good-will!" repeated Chaufour; "that is all my mother left me, and I
+take it no son has received a better inheritance. Therefore they used to
+call me Monsieur Content in the batteries."
+
+"You are a soldier, then?"
+
+"I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward
+in the Guard, through all the commotions. I was at Jemappes and at
+Waterloo; so I was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as
+one may say!"
+
+I looked at him with astonishment.
+
+"And how old were you then, at Jemappes?" asked I.
+
+"Somewhere about fifteen," said he.
+
+"How came you to think of being a soldier so early?"
+
+"I did not really think about it. I then worked at toy-making, and never
+dreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make her
+draught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls. But I had an old uncle
+at Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time--a Fontenoy veteran in
+the same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen
+to that of a marshal. Unluckily, in those days there was no way for
+common people to get on. My uncle, whose services would have got him
+made a prince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of
+sub-lieutenant. But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross
+of St. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noble
+countenance. You would have said he was a portrait of one of those old
+heroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles!
+
+"Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my
+memory. But one day I found him quite grave.
+
+"'Jerome,' said he, 'do you know what is going on on the frontier?'
+
+"'No, lieutenant,' replied I.
+
+"'Well,' resumed he, 'our country is in danger!'
+
+"I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me.
+
+"'Perhaps you have never thought what your country means,' continued he,
+placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all that
+has brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved! This ground
+that you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along there
+laughing--this is your country! The laws which protect you, the bread
+which pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the
+joy and grief which come to you from the men and things among which you
+live--this is your country! The little room where you used to see
+your mother, the remembrances she has left you, the earth where she
+rests--this is your country! You see it, you breathe it, everywhere!
+Think to yourself, my son, of your rights and your duties, your
+affections and your wants, your past and your present blessings; write
+them all under a single name--and that name will be your country!'
+
+"I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes.
+
+"'Ah! I understand,' cried I; 'it is our home in large; it is that part
+of the world where God has placed our body and our soul.'
+
+"'You are right, Jerome,' continued the old soldier; 'so you comprehend
+also what we owe it.'
+
+"'Truly,' resumed I, 'we owe it all that we are; it is a question of
+love.'
+
+"'And of honesty, my son,' concluded he. 'The member of a family who
+does not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his
+duty, and is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not
+enrich it with all his might, with all his courage, and with all his
+heart, defrauds it of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man. It
+is the same with him who enjoys the advantages of having a country, and
+does not accept the burdens of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad
+citizen!'
+
+"'And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?' asked I.
+
+"'Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,'
+said he.
+
+"I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the blood
+boiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncle's words
+were, so to speak, written up before my eyes. I repeated, 'Do for your
+country what you would do for your father and mother.' And my country is
+in danger; an enemy attacks it, while I--I turn cups and balls!
+
+"This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I
+returned to Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just
+enlisted, and was going off to the frontier. The brave man pressed upon
+me his cross of St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador.
+
+"That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I
+had cut my wisdom teeth."
+
+All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looks
+upon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance.
+
+While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of
+himself, but of the general subject. Evidently that which occupied him
+in the drama of life was not his own part, but the drama itself.
+
+This sort of disinterestedness touched me. I prolonged my visit, and
+showed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence in
+return. In an hour's time he knew my position and my habits; I was on
+the footing of an old acquaintance.
+
+I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a short
+time before. He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness which
+comes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything
+on the good side. He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged
+him to work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old
+soldier compared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his
+forehead, accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list
+round his door!
+
+O great and beautiful soul! with whom nothing turns to bitterness, and
+who art peremptory only in duty and benevolence!
+
+October 15th.--This morning I was looking at a little engraving I
+had framed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design of
+Gavarni's; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and a
+conscript.
+
+By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression,
+and so true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen
+them move, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene,
+at which I am present as spectator.
+
+The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of the
+young soldier. His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sun
+shining through the flowering chestnut-trees. In the place of his right
+arm hangs an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound of
+which on the pavement makes those who pass turn to look.
+
+At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greater
+number shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or an
+imprecation.
+
+"See the worth of glory!" says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes
+in horror.
+
+"What a deplorable use of human life!" rejoins a young man who carries a
+volume of philosophy under his arm.
+
+"The trooper would better not have left his plow," adds a countryman,
+with a cunning air.
+
+"Poor old man!" murmurs a woman, almost crying.
+
+The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him that
+his guide has grown thoughtful. The latter, attracted by what he hears
+around him, hardly answers the old man's questions, and his eyes,
+vaguely lost in space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some
+problem.
+
+I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he
+stops abruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm:
+
+"They all pity me," says he, "because they do not understand it; but if
+I were to answer them--"
+
+"What would you say to them, father?" asks the young man, with
+curiosity.
+
+"I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keep
+her tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind
+some struggle for my colors. There is room for doubting how some men
+have done their duty; with me it is visible. I carry the account of my
+services, written with the enemy's steel and lead, on myself; to pity me
+for having done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false to
+it."
+
+"And what would you say to the countryman, father?"
+
+"I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first
+secure the country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners
+ready to eat our harvest, there must be arms to defend it."
+
+"But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use
+of life."
+
+"Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach.
+The books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never
+read them: the principles he applauds we have defended with powder and
+bayonet."
+
+"And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, when
+he saw your maimed body, 'See the worth of glory!"'
+
+"Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul;
+it is this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage. The
+Master of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men. When we
+desire to be distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove our
+esteem and our sympathy for them? The longing for admiration is but one
+side of love. No, no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for!
+That which we should deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove
+a generous self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence
+have called forth. Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when
+passing, cast looks of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose
+excesses have dimmed his sight before he is old, 'What have you done
+with your eyes?' To the slothful man, who with difficulty drags along
+his enervated mass of flesh, 'What have you done with your feet?' To the
+old man, who is punished for his intemperance by the gout, 'What have
+you done with your hands?' To all, 'What have you done with the days God
+granted you, with the faculties you should have employed for the good of
+your brethren?' If you cannot answer, bestow no more of your pity upon
+the old soldier maimed in his country's cause; for he--he at least--can
+show his scars without shame."
+
+October 16th.--The little engraving has made me comprehend better the
+merits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more.
+
+He has just now left my attic. There no longer passes a single day
+without his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by
+his board.
+
+The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it. For twenty
+years he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought without
+hatred, for he was possessed by a single thought--the honor of the
+national flag! It might have been his superstition, if you will; but it
+was, at the same time, his safeguard.
+
+The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through the
+world, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation. To
+have to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it
+is an encouragement to vigorous ones.
+
+"I, too, have had many moments," said he to me the other day, "when I
+have been tempted to make friends with the devil. War is not precisely
+the school for rural virtues. By dint of burning, destroying, and
+killing, you grow a little tough as regards your feelings; 'and, when
+the bayonet has made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into
+your head a little strongly. But at these moments I called to mind that
+country which the lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself
+the well-known phrase, 'Toujours Francais! It has been laughed at since.
+People who would make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it
+into ridicule, as if the name of our country was not also a noble and a
+binding thing. For my part, I shall never forget from how many follies
+the title of Frenchman has kept me. When, overcome with fatigue, I
+have found myself in the rear of the colors, and when the musketry
+was rattling in the front ranks, many a time I heard a voice, which
+whispered in my ear, 'Leave the others to fight, and for today take care
+of your own hide!' But then, that word Francais! murmured within me, and
+I pressed forward to help my comrades. At other times, when, irritated
+by hunger, cold, and wounds, I have arrived at the hovel of some
+Meinherr, I have been seized by an itching to break the master's back,
+and to burn his hut; but I whispered to myself, Francais! and this name
+would not rhyme with either incendiary or murderer. I have, in this
+way, passed through kingdoms from east to west, and from north to south,
+always determined not to bring disgrace upon my country's flag. The
+lieutenant, you see, had taught me a magic word--My country! Not only
+must we defend it, but we must also make it great and loved."
+
+October 17th.--To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit. A chance
+expression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yet
+done.
+
+I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle.
+
+"No, no!" replied he; "the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart
+quarries that my arm went to feed."
+
+And when I asked him for the particulars--
+
+"That's as easy as to say good-morning," continued he. "After the great
+break-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to give
+my wooden leg time to grow. As soon as I was able to hobble a little, I
+took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hoped to
+find some relative or friend; but no--all were gone, or underground. I
+should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin. And
+although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the better off;
+my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight.
+
+"I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped
+him out of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he had
+offered me bed and board at his house. I knew that the year before he
+had married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanent
+coat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations.
+It remained to see if I had not anything better to do. One evening I set
+myself to reflect upon it.
+
+"'Let us see, Chaufour,' said I to myself; 'the question is to act like
+a man. The colonel's place suits you, but cannot you do anything better?
+Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you not
+owe all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said?
+Why not leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his
+hospital at the colonel's? Come, trooper, you are still fit for another
+stout charge or two! You must not lay up before your time.'
+
+"Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to an
+old artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who had
+taken up the quarryman's pick again.
+
+"For the first few months I played the conscript's part--that is to say,
+there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the better
+of stones, as of everything else. I did not become, so to speak, the
+leader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen,
+and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with
+a good will. For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride. The
+thought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into houses
+pleased my heart. I said to myself, 'Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; you
+are helping to beautify your country.' And that kept up my spirit.
+
+"Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to the
+charms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, who
+could hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper to
+strike a light close to a charged mine. The mine exploded suddenly,
+and sent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, and
+carried away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve."
+
+"So you were again without means of living?" said I to the old soldier.
+
+"That is to say, I had to change them," replied he, quietly. "The
+difficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead of
+ten; I found it, however."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"Among the Paris street-sweepers."
+
+"What! you have been one--"
+
+"Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that was
+not my worst time either. The corps of sweepers is not so low as it is
+dirty, I can tell you! There are old actresses in it who could never
+learn to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; we
+even had a professor of classics, who for a little drink would recite
+Latin to you, or Greek tragedies, as you chose. They could not have
+competed for the Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account of
+poverty, and cheered our poverty by our good-humor and jokes. I was as
+ragged and as cheerful as the rest, while trying to be something better.
+Even in the mire of the gutter I preserved my faith that nothing is
+dishonorable which is useful to our country.
+
+"'Chaufour,' said I to myself with a smile, 'after the sword, the
+hammer; after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old
+boy, but you are still serving your country.'"
+
+"'However, you ended by leaving your new profession?' said I."
+
+"A reform was required, neighbor. The street-sweepers seldom have their
+feet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open
+again. I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to
+lay down my arms. It is now two months since I left off working in the
+sanitary department of Paris.
+
+"At the first moment I was daunted. Of my four limbs, I had now only my
+right hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary
+to find some gentlemanly occupation for it. After trying a little of
+everything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for the
+lace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, but
+it is within the capacity of all. By getting up at four and working
+till eight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup
+take fifty of them, and there are three sous over for luxuries. So I am
+richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I
+continue to serve her, as I save her lace and buttons."
+
+At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with his
+great scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboard
+cases. My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought.
+
+Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle
+of life, always march in front for the example and the salvation of the
+world! Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is
+"Country," for that "Home," for a third "Mankind;" but they all
+follow the same standard--that of duty; for all the same divine law
+reigns--that of self-sacrifice. To love something more than one's
+self--that is the secret of all that is great; to know how to live for
+others--that is the aim of all noble souls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI. MORAL USE OF INVENTORIES
+
+November 13th, Nine O'clock P.M.
+
+I had well stopped up the chinks of my window; my little carpet was
+nailed down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast a
+subdued light around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as if
+some live creature was sharing my hearth with me.
+
+All was silent around me. But, out of doors the snow and rain swept the
+roofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters;
+sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beneath the tiles, which
+rattled together like castanets, and afterward it was lost in the empty
+corridor. Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my
+veins: I drew the flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I
+pulled my threadbare velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink
+deeper into my easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light
+which shone through the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a
+sensation of enjoyment, made more lively by the consciousness of the
+storm which raged without. My eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered
+over all the details of my peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to
+my bookcase, resting upon the little chintz sofa, the white curtains of
+the iron bedstead, and the portfolio of loose papers--those archives
+of the attics; and then, returning to the book I held in my hand, they
+attempted to seize once more the thread of the reading which had been
+thus interrupted.
+
+In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first interested me, had
+become painful to me. I had come to the conclusion that the pictures of
+the writer were too sombre. His description of the miseries of the
+world appeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of
+poverty and of suffering; neither God nor man could show themselves so
+harsh toward the sons of Adam. The author had yielded to an artistic
+temptation: he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Nero
+burned Rome for the sake of the picturesque.
+
+Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so much
+criticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it to
+satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness
+of the wise man costs but little, and asks but little space.
+
+These consoling reflections became more and more confused. At last my
+book fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop and
+take it up again; and insensibly overcome by the luxury of the silence,
+the subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep.
+
+I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging to
+a first sleep; at last some vague and broken sensations came over me.
+It seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder.
+I half perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretell
+the coming of winter. I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and there
+with juniper-trees white with frost. Then the scene suddenly changed.
+I was in the diligence; the cold wind shook the doors and windows; the
+trees, loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust my
+benumbed feet into the crushed straw. At last the carriage stopped, and,
+by one of those stage effects so common in sleep, I found myself alone
+in a barn, without a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides.
+I saw again my mother's gentle face, known only to me in my early
+childhood, the noble and stern countenance of my father, the little fair
+head of my sister, who was taken from us at ten years old; all my dead
+family lived again around me; they were there, exposed to the bitings
+of the cold and to the pangs of hunger. My mother prayed by the resigned
+old man, and my sister, rolled up on some rags of which they had made
+her a bed, wept in silence, and held her naked feet in her little blue
+hands.
+
+It was a page from the book I had just read transferred into my own
+existence.
+
+My heart was oppressed with inexpressible anguish. Crouched in a corner,
+with my eyes fixed upon this dismal picture, I felt the cold slowly
+creeping upon me, and I said to myself with bitterness:
+
+"Let us die, since poverty is a dungeon guarded by suspicion, apathy,
+and contempt, and from which it is vain to try to escape; let us die,
+since there is no place for us at the banquet of the living!"
+
+And I tried to rise to join my mother again, and to wait at her feet for
+the hour of release.
+
+This effort dispelled my dream, and I awoke with a start.
+
+I looked around me; my lamp was expiring, the fire in my stove
+extinguished, and my half-opened door was letting in an icy wind. I
+got up, with a shiver, to shut and double-lock it; then I made for the
+alcove, and went to bed in haste.
+
+But the cold kept me awake a long time, and my thoughts continued the
+interrupted dream.
+
+The pictures I had lately accused of exaggeration now seemed but a too
+faithful representation of reality; and I went to sleep without being
+able to recover my optimism--or my warmth.
+
+Thus did a cold stove and a badly closed door alter my point of view.
+All went well when my blood circulated properly; all looked gloomy when
+the cold laid hold on me.
+
+This reminds me of the story of the duchess who was obliged to pay a
+visit to the neighboring convent on a winter's day. The convent was
+poor, there was no wood, and the monks had nothing but their discipline
+and the ardor of their prayers to keep out the cold. The duchess, who
+was shivering with cold, returned home, greatly pitying the poor monks.
+While the servants were taking off her cloak and adding two more logs to
+her fire, she called her steward, whom she ordered to send some wood
+to the convent immediately. She then had her couch moved close to the
+fireside, the warmth of which soon revived her. The recollection of what
+she had just suffered was speedily lost in her present comfort, when the
+steward came in again to ask how many loads of wood he was to send.
+
+"Oh! you may wait," said the great lady carelessly; "the weather is very
+much milder."
+
+Thus, man's judgments are formed less from reason than from sensation;
+and as sensation comes to him from the outward world, so he finds
+himself more or less under its influence; by little and little he
+imbibes a portion of his habits and feelings from it.
+
+It is not, then, without cause that, when we wish to judge of a
+stranger beforehand, we look for indications of his character in the
+circumstances which surround him. The things among which we live are
+necessarily made to take our image, and we unconsciously leave in them
+a thousand impressions of our minds. As we can judge by an empty bed
+of the height and attitude of him who has slept in it, so the abode of
+every man discovers to a close observer the extent of his intelligence
+and the feelings of his heart. Bernardin de St.-Pierre has related the
+story of a young girl who refused a suitor because he would never have
+flowers or domestic animals in his house. Perhaps the sentence was
+severe, but not without reason. We may presume that a man insensible
+to beauty and to humble affection must be ill prepared to feel the
+enjoyments of a happy marriage.
+
+14th, seven o'clock P.M.--This morning, as I was opening my journal to
+write, I had a visit from our old cashier.
+
+His sight is not so good as it was, his hand begins to shake, and the
+work he was able to do formerly is now becoming somewhat laborious to
+him. I had undertaken to write out some of his papers, and he came for
+those I had finished.
+
+We conversed a long time by the stove, while he was drinking a cup of
+coffee which I made him take.
+
+M. Rateau is a sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little; so
+that he has always something to say.
+
+While looking over the accounts I had prepared for him, his look fell
+upon my journal, and I was obliged to acknowledge that in this way I
+wrote a diary of my actions and thoughts every evening for private use.
+From one thing to another, I began speaking to him of my dream the day
+before, and my reflections about the influence of outward objects upon
+our ordinary sentiments. He smiled.
+
+"Ah! you, too, have my superstitions," he said, quietly. "I have always
+believed, like you, that you may know the game by the lair: it is
+only necessary to have tact and experience; but without them we commit
+ourselves to many rash judgments. For my part. I have been guilty of
+this more than once, but sometimes I have also drawn a right conclusion.
+I recollect especially an adventure which goes as far back as the first
+years of my youth--"
+
+He stopped. I looked at him as if I waited for his story, and he told it
+me at once.
+
+At this time he was still but third clerk to an attorney at Orleans. His
+master had sent him to Montargis on different affairs, and he intended
+to return in the diligence the same evening, after having received
+the amount of a bill at a neighboring town; but they kept him at the
+debtor's house, and when he was able to set out the day had already
+closed.
+
+Fearing not to be able to reach Montargis in good time, he took a
+crossroad they pointed out to him. Unfortunately the fog increased, no
+star was visible in the heavens, and the darkness became so great
+that he lost his road. He tried to retrace his steps, passed twenty
+footpaths, and at last was completely astray.
+
+After the vexation of losing his place in the diligence, came the
+feeling of uneasiness as to his situation. He was alone, on foot, lost
+in a forest, without any means of finding his right road again, and with
+a considerable sum of money about him, for which he was responsible.
+His anxiety was increased by his inexperience. The idea of a forest was
+connected in his mind with so many adventures of robbery and murder,
+that he expected some fatal encounter every instant.
+
+To say the truth, his situation was not encouraging. The place was not
+considered safe, and for some time past there had been rumors of the
+sudden disappearance of several horse-dealers, though there was no trace
+of any crime having been committed.
+
+Our young traveller, with his eyes staring forward, and his ears
+listening, followed a footpath which he supposed might take him to some
+house or road; but woods always succeeded to woods. At last he perceived
+a light at a distance, and in a quarter of an hour he reached the
+highroad.
+
+A single house, the light from which had attracted him, appeared at a
+little distance. He was going toward the entrance gate of the courtyard,
+when the trot of a horse made him turn his head. A man on horseback had
+just appeared at the turning of the road, and in an instant was close to
+him.
+
+The first words he addressed to the young man showed him to be the
+farmer himself. He related how he had lost himself, and learned from the
+countryman that he was on the road to Pithiviers. Montargis was three
+leagues behind him.
+
+The fog had insensibly changed into a drizzling rain, which was
+beginning to wet the young clerk through; he seemed afraid of the
+distance he had still to go, and the horseman, who saw his hesitation,
+invited him to come into the farmhouse.
+
+It had something of the look of a fortress. Surrounded by a pretty high
+wall, it could not be seen except through the bars of the great gate,
+which was carefully closed. The farmer, who had got off his horse, did
+not go near it, but, turning to the right, reached another entrance
+closed in the same way, but of which he had the key.
+
+Hardly had he passed the threshold when a terrible barking resounded
+from each end of the yard. The farmer told his guest to fear nothing,
+and showed him the dogs chained up to their kennels; both were of an
+extraordinary size, and so savage that the sight of their master himself
+could not quiet them.
+
+A boy, attracted by their barking, came out of the house and took the
+farmer's horse. The latter began questioning him about some orders he
+had given before he left the house, and went toward the stable to see
+that they had been executed.
+
+Thus left alone, our clerk looked about him.
+
+A lantern which the boy had placed on the ground cast a dim light over
+the courtyard. All around seemed empty and deserted. Not a trace was
+visible of the disorder often seen in a country farmyard, and which
+shows a temporary cessation of the work which is soon to be resumed
+again. Neither a cart forgotten where the horses had been unharnessed,
+nor sheaves of corn heaped up ready for threshing, nor a plow overturned
+in a corner and half hidden under the freshly-cut clover. The yard was
+swept, the barns shut up and padlocked. Not a single vine creeping up
+the walls; everywhere stone, wood, and iron!
+
+He took up the lantern and went up to the corner of the house. Behind
+was a second yard, where he heard the barking of a third dog, and a
+covered wall was built in the middle of it.
+
+Our traveller looked in vain for the little farm garden, where pumpkins
+of different sorts creep along the ground, or where the bees from the
+hives hum under the hedges of honeysuckle and elder. Verdure and
+flowers were nowhere to be seen. He did not even perceive the sight of a
+poultry-yard or pigeon-house. The habitation of his host was everywhere
+wanting in that which makes the grace and the life of the country.
+
+The young man thought that his host must be of a very careless or a very
+calculating disposition, to concede so little to domestic enjoyments and
+the pleasures of the eye; and judging, in spite of himself, by what he
+saw, he could not help feeling a distrust of his character.
+
+In the mean time the farmer returned from the stables, and made him
+enter the house.
+
+The inside of the farmhouse corresponded to its outside. The whitewashed
+walls had no other ornament than a row of guns of all sizes; the massive
+furniture hardly redeemed its clumsy appearance by its great solidity.
+The cleanliness was doubtful, and the absence of all minor conveniences
+proved that a woman's care was wanting in the household concerns. The
+young clerk learned that the farmer, in fact, lived here with no one but
+his two sons.
+
+Of this, indeed, the signs were plain enough. A table with the cloth
+laid, that no one had taken the trouble to clear away, was left near the
+window. The plates and dishes were scattered upon it without any order,
+and loaded with potato-parings and half-picked bones. Several empty
+bottles emitted an odor of brandy, mixed with the pungent smell of
+tobacco-smoke.
+
+After seating his guest, the farmer lighted his pipe, and his two sons
+resumed their work by the fireside. Now and then the silence was just
+broken by a short remark, answered by a word or an exclamation; and then
+all became as mute as before.
+
+"From my childhood," said the old cashier, "I had been very sensible to
+the impression of outward objects; later in life, reflection had taught
+me to study the causes of these impressions rather than to drive them
+away. I set myself, then, to examine everything around me with great
+attention.
+
+"Below the guns, I had remarked on entering, some wolftraps were
+suspended, and to one of them still hung the mangled remains of a wolf's
+paw, which they had not yet taken off from the iron teeth. The blackened
+chimneypiece was ornamented by an owl and a raven nailed on the wall,
+their wings extended, and their throats with a huge nail through each;
+a fox's skin, freshly flayed, was spread before the window; and a larder
+hook, fixed into the principal beam, held a headless goose, whose body
+swayed about over our heads.
+
+"My eyes were offended by all these details, and I turned them again
+upon my hosts. The father, who sat opposite to me, only interrupted his
+smoking to pour out his drink, or address some reprimand to his
+sons. The eldest of these was scraping a deep bucket, and the bloody
+scrapings, which he threw into the fire every instant, filled the room
+with a disagreeable fetid smell; the second son was sharpening some
+butcher's knives. I learned from a word dropped from the father that
+they were preparing to kill a pig the next day.
+
+"These occupations and the whole aspect of things inside the house told
+of such habitual coarseness in their way of living as seemed to explain,
+while it formed the fitting counterpart of, the forbidding gloominess
+of the outside. My astonishment by degrees changed into disgust, and my
+disgust into uneasiness. I cannot detail the whole chain of ideas which
+succeeded one another in my imagination; but, yielding to an impulse I
+could not overcome, I got up, declaring I would go on my road again.
+
+"The farmer made some effort to keep me; he spoke of the rain, of the
+darkness, and of the length of the way. I replied to all by the absolute
+necessity there was for my being at Montargis that very night; and
+thanking him for his brief hospitality, I set off again in a haste which
+might well have confirmed the truth of my words to him.
+
+"However, the freshness of the night and the exercise of walking did not
+fail to change the directions of my thoughts. When away from the objects
+which had awakened such lively disgust in me, I felt it gradually
+diminishing. I began to smile at the susceptibility of my feelings,
+and then, in proportion as the rain became heavier and colder, these
+strictures on myself assumed a tone of ill-temper. I silently accused
+myself of the absurdity of mistaking sensation for admonitions of my
+reason. After all, were not the farmer and his sons free to live alone,
+to hunt, to keep dogs, and to kill a pig? Where was the crime of it?
+With less nervous susceptibility, I should have accepted the shelter
+they offered me, and I should now be sleeping snugly on a truss of
+straw, instead of walking with difficulty through the cold and drizzling
+rain. I thus continued to reproach myself, until, toward morning, I
+arrived at Montargis, jaded and benumbed with cold.
+
+"When, however, I got up refreshed, toward the middle of the next day,
+I instinctively returned to my first opinion. The appearance of the
+farmhouse presented itself to me under the same repulsive colors which
+the evening before had determined me to make my escape from it. Reason
+itself remained silent when reviewing all those coarse details, and was
+forced to recognize in them the indications of a low nature, or else the
+presence of some baleful influence.
+
+"I went away the next day without being able to learn anything
+concerning the farmer or his sons; but the recollection of my adventure
+remained deeply fixed in my memory.
+
+"Ten years afterward I was travelling in the diligence through the
+department of the Loiret; I was leaning from the window, and looking at
+some coppice ground now for the first time brought under cultivation,
+and the mode of clearing which one of my travelling companions was
+explaining to me, when my eyes fell upon a walled inclosure, with an
+iron-barred gate. Inside it I perceived a house with all the blinds
+closed, and which I immediately recollected; it was the farmhouse where
+I had been sheltered. I eagerly pointed it out to my companion, and
+asked who lived in it.
+
+"'Nobody just now,' replied he.
+
+"'But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?'
+
+"'The Turreaus;' said my travelling companion, looking at me; 'did you
+know them?'
+
+"'I saw them once.'
+
+"He shook his head.
+
+"'Yes, yes!' resumed he; 'for many years they lived there like wolves in
+their den; they merely knew how to till land, kill game, and drink. The
+father managed the house, but men living alone, without women to love
+them, without children to soften them, and without God to make them
+think of heaven, always turn into wild beasts, you see; so one morning
+the eldest son, who had been drinking too much brandy, would not harness
+the plow-horses; his father struck him with his whip, and the son, who
+was mad drunk, shot him dead with his gun.'"
+
+16th, P.M.--I have been thinking of the story of the old cashier these
+two days; it came so opportunely upon the reflections my dream had
+suggested to me.
+
+Have I not an important lesson to learn from all this?
+
+If our sensations have an incontestable influence upon our judgments,
+how comes it that we are so little careful of those things which awaken
+or modify these sensations? The external world is always reflected in us
+as in a mirror, and fills our minds with pictures which, unconsciously
+to ourselves, become the germs of our opinions and of our rules of
+conduct. All the objects which surround us are then, in reality, so many
+talismans whence good and evil influences are emitted, and it is for
+us to choose them wisely, so as to create a healthy atmosphere for our
+minds.
+
+Feeling convinced of this truth, I set about making a survey of my
+attic.
+
+The first object on which my eyes rest is an old map of the history of
+the principal monastery in my native province. I had unrolled it with
+much satisfaction, and placed it on the most conspicuous part of the
+wall. Why had I given it this place? Ought this sheet of old worm-eaten
+parchment to be of so much value to me, who am neither an antiquary nor
+a scholar? Is not its real importance in my sight that one of the abbots
+who founded it bore my name, and that I shall, perchance, be able
+to make myself a genealogical tree of it for the edification of my
+visitors? While writing this, I feel my own blushes. Come, down with the
+map! let us banish it into my deepest drawer.
+
+As I passed my glass, I perceived several visiting cards complacently
+displayed in the frame. By what chance is it that there are only
+names that make a show among them? Here is a Polish count--a retired
+colonel--the deputy of my department. Quick, quick, into the fire with
+these proofs of vanity! and let us put this card in the handwriting of
+our office-boy, this direction for cheap dinners, and the receipt of
+the broker where I bought my last armchair, in their place. These
+indications of my poverty will serve, as Montaigne says, 'mater ma
+superbe', and will always make me recollect the modesty in which the
+dignity of the lowly consists.
+
+I have stopped before the prints hanging upon the wall. This large
+and smiling Pomona, seated on sheaves of corn, and whose basket is
+overflowing with fruit, only produces thoughts of joy and plenty; I was
+looking at her the other day, when I fell asleep denying such a thing
+as misery. Let us give her as companion this picture of Winter, in which
+everything tells of sorrow and suffering: one picture will modify the
+other.
+
+And this Happy Family of Greuze's! What joy in the children's eyes! What
+sweet repose in the young woman's face! What religious feeling in the
+grandfather's countenance! May God preserve their happiness to them! but
+let us hang by its side the picture of this mother, who weeps over an
+empty cradle. Human life has two faces, both of which we must dare to
+contemplate in their turn.
+
+Let me hide, too, these ridiculous monsters which ornament my
+chimneypiece. Plato has said that "the beautiful is nothing else than
+the visible form of the good." If it is so, the ugly should be the
+visible form of the evil, and, by constantly beholding it, the mind
+insensibly deteriorates.
+
+But above all, in order to cherish the feelings of kindness and pity,
+let me hang at the foot of my bed this affecting picture of the Last
+Sleep! Never have I been able to look at it without feeling my heart
+touched.
+
+An old woman, clothed in rags, is lying by a roadside; her stick is at
+her feet, and her head rests upon a stone; she has fallen asleep; her
+hands are clasped; murmuring a prayer of her childhood, she sleeps her
+last sleep, she dreams her last dream!
+
+She sees herself, again a strong and happy child, keeping the sheep on
+the common, gathering the berries from the hedges, singing, curtsying to
+passers-by, and making the sign of the cross when the first star appears
+in the heavens! Happy time, filled with fragrance and sunshine! She
+wants nothing yet, for she is ignorant of what there is to wish for.
+
+But see her grown up; the time is come for working bravely: she must
+cut the corn, thresh the wheat, carry the bundles of flowering clover
+or branches of withered leaves to the farm. If her toil is hard, hope
+shines like a sun over everything and it wipes the drops of sweat away.
+The growing girl already sees that life is a task, but she still sings
+as she fulfills it.
+
+By-and-bye the burden becomes heavier; she is a wife, she is a mother!
+She must economize the bread of to-day, have her eye upon the morrow,
+take care of the sick, and sustain the feeble; she must act, in short,
+that part of an earthly Providence, so easy when God gives us his aid,
+so hard when he forsakes us. She is still strong, but she is anxious;
+she sings no longer!
+
+Yet a few years, and all is overcast. The husband's health is broken;
+his wife sees him pine away by the now fireless hearth; cold and hunger
+finish what sickness had begun; he dies, and his widow sits on the
+ground by the coffin provided by the charity of others, pressing her two
+half-naked little ones in her arms. She dreads the future, she weeps,
+and she droops her head.
+
+At last the future has come; the children are grown up, but they are no
+longer with her. Her son is fighting under his country's flag, and his
+sister is gone. Both have been lost to her for a long time--perhaps
+forever; and the strong girl, the brave wife, the courageous mother, is
+henceforth only a poor old beggar-woman, without a family, and without
+a home! She weeps no more, sorrow has subdued her; she surrenders, and
+waits for death.
+
+Death, that faithful friend of the wretched, is come: not hideous and
+with mockery, as superstition represents, but beautiful, smiling, and
+crowned with stars! The gentle phantom stoops to the beggar; its pale
+lips murmur a few airy words, which announce to her the end of her
+labors; a peaceful joy comes over the aged beggarwoman, and, leaning on
+the shoulder of the great Deliverer, she has passed unconsciously from
+her last earthly sleep to her eternal rest.
+
+Lie there, thou poor way-wearied woman! The leaves will serve thee for a
+winding-sheet. Night will shed her tears of dew over thee, and the birds
+will sing sweetly by thy remains. Thy visit here below will not have
+left more trace than their flight through the air; thy name is already
+forgotten, and the only legacy thou hast to leave is the hawthorn stick
+lying forgotten at thy feet!
+
+Well! some one will take it up--some soldier of that great human host
+which is scattered abroad by misery or by vice; for thou art not an
+exception, thou art an instance; and under the same sun which shines
+so pleasantly upon all, in the midst of these flowering vineyards, this
+ripe corn, and these wealthy cities, entire generations suffer, succeed
+each other, and still bequeath to each the beggar's stick!
+
+The sight of this sad picture shall make me more grateful for what God
+has given me, and more compassionate for those whom he has treated with
+less indulgence; it shall be a lesson and a subject for reflection for
+me.
+
+Ah! if we would watch for everything that might improve and instruct
+us; if the arrangements of our daily life were so disposed as to be a
+constant school for our minds! but oftenest we take no heed of them. Man
+is an eternal mystery to himself; his own person is a house into which
+he never enters, and of which he studies the outside alone. Each of
+us need have continually before him the famous inscription which once
+instructed Socrates, and which was engraved on the walls of Delphi by an
+unknown hand:
+
+             KNOW THYSELF.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII. THE END OF THE YEAR
+
+December 30th, P.M.
+
+I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had
+kept me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was
+making efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light
+struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at
+times I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my
+ideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental
+wandering and consciousness.
+
+Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from
+the top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. We
+distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on
+the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden
+with mist, and all is confused and indistinct.
+
+Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed
+my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to
+separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the
+other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one
+another.
+
+Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath
+the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female
+figure appears before me!
+
+At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of
+Eve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had
+the pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery of
+a thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues,
+and held a withered garland in her hand.
+
+After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and
+what brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following the
+movements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:
+
+"You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to
+receive your thanks and your farewell."
+
+I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter
+resentment.
+
+"Ah! you want thanks," cried I; "but first let me know what for?
+
+"When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have
+taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by
+inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less
+warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You
+have planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer
+flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old
+age!
+
+"And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also
+diminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm;
+she is become more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took in
+the whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her
+nearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself! That is what you
+have done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see
+to what grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it! For the many
+days that the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care
+of this home in which I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closets
+empty, my bookcase, stripped, all my poor treasures lost through
+negligence or dishonesty? Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I
+fed? All are gone! my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary! As it is
+only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousness of
+what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my long
+illness! Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means of
+recompense are exhausted! And what will my masters, for whom I am
+bound to work, have said to my absence? At this time of the year, when
+business is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they
+even have tried to do so? Perhaps I am already superseded in the humble
+situation by which I earned my daily bread! And it is thou-thou alone,
+wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon
+me: strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me. I have
+only received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim
+my gratitude!"
+
+"Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and
+may I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that
+of a king:
+
+     "'Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here
+     cannot live again.'"
+
+       .......................
+
+I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized
+the doctor.
+
+After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of
+the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox. I have
+since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor.
+
+"Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?" said M. Lambert, in
+his half-joking, half-scolding way. "What the deuce of a hurry we were
+in! It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!"
+
+"Then you had given me up, doctor?" asked I, rather alarmed.
+
+"Not at all," replied the old physician. "We can't give up what we
+have not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope. We are but
+instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with
+Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!"'
+
+"May He be blessed then, as well as you," cried I; "and may my health
+come back with the new year!"
+
+M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Begin by asking yourself for it," resumed he, bluntly. "God has given
+it you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for
+you. One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us
+like the rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the
+matter. Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve
+to be well."
+
+I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry.
+
+"Ah! you think that I am joking," resumed he, raising his voice; "but
+tell me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he
+gives to his business? Do you economize your strength as you economize
+your money? Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the
+same care as extravagance or foolish speculations in the other? Do
+you keep as regular accounts of your mode of living as you do of
+your income? Do you consider every evening what has been wholesome
+or unwholesome for you, with the same care that you bring to the
+examination of your expenditure? You may smile; but have you not brought
+this illness on yourself by a thousand indiscretions?"
+
+I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these
+indiscretions. The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to
+reckon upon them one by one.
+
+"Primo," cried he, "want of exercise. You live here like a mouse in
+a cheese, without air, motion, or change. Consequently, the blood
+circulates badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do
+not claim their share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain
+grows weary.
+
+"Secundo. Irregular food. Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave who
+must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen revenge,
+like all slaves.
+
+"Tertio. Sitting up late. Instead of using the night for sleep, you
+spend it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk!
+At the time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through
+these nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for
+them the next day.
+
+"Quarto. Luxurious habits. Shut up in your attic, you insensibly
+surround yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences. You must have
+list for your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an
+easy-chair stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the
+first sign of cold, and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these
+precautions, the least draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give
+you no rest, and you must wear spectacles to support the light of
+day. You have thought you were acquiring comforts, and you have only
+contracted infirmities.
+
+"Quinto"
+
+"Ah! enough, enough, doctor!" cried I. "Pray, do not carry your
+examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my
+pleasures."
+
+The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.
+
+"You see," said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, "you would
+escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are
+guilty. 'Habemus confitentem reum'! But at least, my friend, do not go
+on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman."
+
+Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his
+function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.
+
+When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.
+
+Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the
+main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we
+should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him
+finish the examination he had begun.
+
+But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns
+the health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of
+preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of
+God's soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall
+I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO
+IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?
+
+Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast
+erred?
+
+First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the
+lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and
+have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which
+had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men
+solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I
+have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and
+my sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd,
+which I ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is
+composed of my brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as
+much indifference as if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with
+him who rolls in riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and
+yet, vain of my trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I
+scorn the poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit
+for a gift which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of
+fortune into a weapon with which to attack others.
+
+Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and
+raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in
+the envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the
+contemptuous pride of knowledge.
+
+Alas! I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the
+magician of Bagdad.
+
+One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind,
+while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight. The latter, proud of
+his own advantages, laughed at his brother's blindness, and disdained
+him as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him.
+
+"To what purpose," said he, "since the gods have put nothing in common
+between us? For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes
+and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an
+obscure abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of
+an invisible world. Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the
+pleasures of light to those upon whom the day-star shines."
+
+With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry
+bitterly. His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried
+to console him by promising to give him whatever he desired.
+
+"Can you give me sight?" asked the child.
+
+"Fate does not permit it," said the magician.
+
+"Then," cried the blind boy, eagerly, "I ask you to put out the sun!"
+
+Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of
+some one of my brothers who does not see?
+
+But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought!
+How many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I
+pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not
+done without any sense of my responsibility! The greater part of men
+harm one another for the sake of doing something. We laugh at the honor
+of one, and compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who
+saunters along a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying
+the most beautiful flowers.
+
+And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of
+some men is created. It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious
+mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every
+passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes,
+without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a
+gibbet. Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up
+there to view?
+
+Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which
+the Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths
+which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my
+attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance
+to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he
+described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and
+in a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his
+eyes every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it
+appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and
+that she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my
+heart. Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the
+attempt to justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again
+immediately with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his
+threatening evolutions in the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly
+endeavoring to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind
+the hill.
+
+I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen
+tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though
+they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose
+rather to be their tormentors.
+
+I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these
+crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they
+deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the
+path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.
+
+The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in
+place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an
+angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only
+an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining
+the management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.
+
+I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my
+faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every
+finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame. A
+manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to assist
+in extinguishing it.
+
+I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was
+awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my
+way.
+
+Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from
+selfishness and cowardice.
+
+But what! have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties
+which bind us to our fellowmen? Is this the first time I have avoided
+paying society what I owe it? Have I not always behaved to my companions
+with injustice, and like the lion? Have I not claimed successively every
+share? If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little
+portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every
+means. How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up
+at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that
+compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable! How often
+have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice
+harden my heart against them.
+
+With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor
+man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves!
+
+Oh! let us not go farther--let us not go farther! I interrupted the
+doctor's examination, but how much sadder is this one! We pity the
+diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul.
+
+I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier.
+
+Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the
+figure of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and
+sometimes sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard.
+
+He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and
+his great scissors. I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful
+exclamation, and came near me.
+
+"Well! so the bullet is found again!" cried he, taking my two hands into
+the maimed one which was left him; "it has not been without trouble, I
+can tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in.
+I have seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my
+hospital days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was
+on fire in his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines;
+but the third day it all went out of itself. But with you it has lasted
+twenty-eight days--as long as one of the Little Corporal's campaigns."
+
+"I am not mistaken then; you were near me?"
+
+"Well! I had only to cross the passage. This left hand has not made you
+a bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah! you did not know what hand
+gave you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being
+drowned--for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster."
+
+The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to
+speak, pressed his hand against my breast. He saw my emotion, and
+hastened to put an end to it.
+
+"By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw
+your rations again," resumed he gayly; "four meals, like the German
+meinherrs--nothing more! The doctor is your house steward."
+
+"We must find the cook, too," replied I, with a smile.
+
+"She is found," said the veteran.
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Genevieve."
+
+"The fruit-woman?"
+
+"While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear
+her sparing either butter or trouble. As long as life and death were
+fighting for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down
+stairs to learn which way the battle went. And, stay, I am sure this is
+she."
+
+In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door.
+
+"Oh, well!" continued he, "it is Mother Millot, our portress, another
+of your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you.
+Come in, Mother Millot--come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning,
+and ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes."
+
+The portress came in, quite delighted. She brought my linen, washed and
+mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her
+sailor son, and kept for great occasions. I would have thanked her,
+but the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the
+doctor had forbidden me to speak. I saw her arrange everything in my
+drawers, the neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand
+had evidently been there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable
+disorder consequent on sickness.
+
+As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by
+Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the
+same time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to
+be convalescent. The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she
+herself wished to see me eat.
+
+It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her. At every
+detail she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her
+to be less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper. They made a circle
+around me to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied
+by their expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness. Never had the
+King of France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among
+the spectators.
+
+As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier,
+entered in his turn.
+
+I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him. How would the
+heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me?
+
+I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by
+me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a
+word about our masters. I could not endure this uncertainty any longer.
+
+"And the Messieurs Durmer," asked I, hesitatingly, "how have they
+taken--the interruption to my work?"
+
+"There has been no interruption," replied the old clerk, quietly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as
+usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference."
+
+This was too much. After so many instances of affection, this filled up
+the measure. I could not restrain my tears.
+
+Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been
+acknowledged by them a hundredfold! I had sown a little seed, and every
+grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf. Ah!
+this completes the lesson the doctor gave me. If it is true that the
+diseases, whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and
+our vices, sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having
+done our duty. Every one of us, with God's help, and within the
+narrow limits of human capability, himself makes his own disposition,
+character, and permanent condition.
+
+Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and
+my birds, and they are my only companions. The setting sun reddens my
+half-closed curtains with its last rays. My brain is clear, and my heart
+lighter. A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that
+happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep.
+
+Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand
+changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me;
+but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile.
+
+"Adieu, beloved year! whom I but now unjustly accused. That which I have
+suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through
+which God had marked out my road--a ground where I had reaped the
+harvest I had sown. I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those
+hours of happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for
+the suffering thou hast seen me endure. Neither happiness nor suffering
+came from thee; but thou hast been the scene for them. Descend again
+then, in peace, into eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me
+experience in the place of youth, sweet memories instead of past time,
+and gratitude as payment for good offices."
+
+
+     ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+     Always to mistake feeling for evidence
+     Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'
+     Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws
+     Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures
+     Brought them up to poverty
+     But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
+     Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!"
+     Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping
+     Contemptuous pride of knowledge
+     Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
+     Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
+     Did not think the world was so great
+     Do they understand what makes them so gay?
+     Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community
+     Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness
+     Every one keeps his holidays in his own way
+     Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought
+     Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know"
+     Fear of losing a moment from business
+     Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent
+     Fortune sells what we believe she gives
+     Her kindness, which never sleeps
+     Houses are vessels which take mere passengers
+     Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply
+     I make it a rule never to have any hope
+     Ignorant of what there is to wish for
+     Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance
+     Make himself a name: he becomes public property
+     Moderation is the great social virtue
+     More stir than work
+     My patronage has become her property
+     No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give
+     Not desirous to teach goodness
+     Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+     Our tempers are like an opera-glass
+     Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress
+     Power of necessity
+     Prisoners of work
+     Progress can never be forced on without danger
+     Question is not to discover what will suit us
+     Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget
+     Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival
+     Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them
+     Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little
+     So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las
+     Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims
+     The happiness of the wise man costs but little
+     The man in power gives up his peace
+     Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation
+     Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils
+     We do not understand that others may live on their own account
+     We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty
+     What have you done with the days God granted you
+     What a small dwelling joy can live
+     You may know the game by the lair
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An "Attic" Philosopher, Complete
+by Emile Souvestre
+
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+Title: An "Attic" Philosopher, entire
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+This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net>
+
+
+
+
+
+[NOTE: There is a short list of bookmarks, or pointers, at the end of the
+file for those who may wish to sample the author's ideas before making an
+entire meal of them.  D.W.]
+
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+(Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+
+By EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+With a Preface by JOSEPH BERTRAND, of the French Academy
+
+
+
+BOOK 1.
+
+
+EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+No one succeeds in obtaining a prominent place in literature, or in
+surrounding himself with a faithful and steady circle of admirers drawn
+from the fickle masses of the public, unless he possesses originality,
+constant variety, and a distinct personality.  It is quite possible to
+gain for a moment a few readers by imitating some original feature in
+another; but these soon vanish and the writer remains alone and
+forgotten.  Others, again, without belonging to any distinct group of
+authors, having found their standard in themselves, moralists and
+educators at the same time, have obtained undying recognition.
+
+Of the latter class, though little known outside of France, is Emile
+Souvestre, who was born in Morlaix, April 15, 1806, and died at Paris
+July 5, 1854.  He was the son of a civil engineer, was educated at the
+college of Pontivy, and intended to follow his father's career by
+entering the Polytechnic School.  His father, however, died in 1823, and
+Souvestre matriculated as a law-student at Rennes.  But the young student
+soon devoted himself entirely to literature.  His first essay, a tragedy,
+'Le Siege de Missolonghi' (1828), was a pronounced failure.  Disheartened
+and disgusted he left Paris and established himself first as a lawyer in
+Morlaix.  Then he became proprietor of a newspaper, and was afterward
+appointed a professor in Brest and in Mulhouse.  In 1836 he contributed
+to the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' some sketches of life in Brittany, which
+obtained a brilliant success.  Souvestre was soon made editor of La Revue
+de Paris, and in consequence early found a publisher for his first novel,
+'L'Echelle de Femmes', which, as was the case with his second work,
+Riche et Pauvre', met with a very favorable reception.  His reputation
+was now made, and between this period and his death he gave to France
+about sixty volumes--tales, novels, essays, history, and drama.
+
+A double purpose was always very conspicuous in his books: he aspired to
+the role of a moralist and educator, and was likewise a most impressive
+painter of the life, character, and morals of the inhabitants of
+Brittany.
+
+The most significant of his books are perhaps 'Les Derniers Bretons
+(1835-1837, 4 vols.), Pierre Landais (1843, 2 vols.), Le Foyer Breton
+(1844, 2 vols.), Un Philosophe sons les Toits, crowned by the Academy
+(1850), Confessions d'un Ouvrier (1851), Recits et Souvenirs (1853),
+Souvenirs d'un Vieillard (1854); also La Bretagne Pittoresque (1845),
+and, finally, Causeries Historiques et Litteraires (1854, 2 vols.)'.  His
+comedies deserve honorable mention: 'Henri Hamelin, L'Oncle Baptiste
+(1842), La Parisienne, Le Mousse, etc'.  In 1848, Souvestre was appointed
+professor of the newly created school of administration, mostly devoted
+to popular lectures.  He held this post till 1853, lecturing partly in
+Paris, partly in Switzerland.
+
+His death, when comparatively young, left a distinct gap in the literary
+world.  A life like his could not be extinguished without general sorrow.
+Although he was unduly modest, and never aspired to the role of a beacon-
+light in literature, always seeking to remain in obscurity, the works of
+Emile Souvestre must be placed in the first rank by their morality and by
+their instructive character.  They will always command the entire respect
+and applause of mankind.  And thus it happens that, like many others, he
+was only fully appreciated after his death.
+
+Even those of his 'confreres' who did not seem to esteem him, when alive,
+suddenly found out that they had experienced a great loss in his demise.
+They expressed it in emotional panegyrcs; contemporaneous literature
+discovered that virtue had flown from its bosom, and the French Academy,
+which had at its proper time crowned his 'Philosophe sons les Toits' as a
+work contributing supremely to morals, kept his memory green by bestowing
+on his widow the "Prix Lambert," designed for the "families of authors
+who by their integrity, and by the probity of their efforts have well
+deserved this token from the Republique des Lettres."
+
+                                        JOSEPH BERTRAND
+                                   de 'Academie Francaise.
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+
+
+CHAPTER I
+
+NEW-YEAR'S GIFTS
+
+January 1st
+
+The day of the month came into my mind as soon as I awoke.  Another year
+is separated from the chain of ages, and drops into the gulf of the past!
+The crowd hasten to welcome her young sister.  But while all looks are
+turned toward the future, mine revert to the past.  Everyone smiles upon
+the new queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time has just
+wrapped in her winding-sheet.  The past year!--at least I know what she
+was, and what she has given me; while this one comes surrounded by all
+the forebodings of the unknown.  What does she hide in the clouds that
+mantle her?  Is it the storm or the sunshine?  Just now it rains, and I
+feel my mind as gloomy as the sky.  I have a holiday today; but what can
+one do on a rainy day?  I walk up and down my attic out of temper, and I
+determine to light my fire.
+
+Unfortunately the matches are bad, the chimney smokes, the wood goes out!
+I throw down my bellows in disgust, and sink into my old armchair.
+
+In truth, why should I rejoice to see the birth of a new year?  All those
+who are already in the streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces--do
+they understand what makes them so gay?  Do they even know what is the
+meaning of this holiday, or whence comes the custom of New-Year's gifts?
+
+Here my mind pauses to prove to itself its superiority over that of the
+vulgar.  I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity, and
+I bring together all the evidence which my knowledge can produce.
+
+(The old Romans divided the year into ten months only; it was Numa
+Pompilius who added January and February.  The former took its name from
+Janus, to whom it was dedicated.  As it opened the new year, they
+surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of
+visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year's gifts.
+The presents given by the Romans were symbolic.  They consisted of dry
+figs, dates, honeycomb, as emblems of "the sweetness of the auspices
+under which the year should begin its course," and a small piece of money
+called stips, which foreboded riches.)
+
+Here I close the parenthesis, and return to my ill-humor.  The little
+speech I have just addressed to myself has restored me my self-
+satisfaction, but made me more dissatisfied with others.  I could now
+enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning's milk, and
+the pot of preserves is empty!  Anyone else would have been vexed: as for
+me, I affect the most supreme indifference.  There remains a hard crust,
+which I break by main strength, and which I carelessly nibble, as a man
+far above the vanities of the world and of fresh rolls.
+
+However, I do not know why my thoughts should grow more gloomy by reason
+of the difficulties of mastication.  I once read the story of an
+Englishman who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea
+without sugar.  There are hours in life when the most trifling cross
+takes the form of a calamity.  Our tempers are like an opera-glass, which
+makes the object small or great according to the end you look through.
+
+Usually, the prospect that opens out before my window delights me.  It is
+a mountain-range of roofs, with ridges crossing, interlacing, and piled
+on one another, and upon which tall chimneys raise their peaks.  It was
+but yesterday that they had an Alpine aspect to me, and I waited for the
+first snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles and
+stone flues.  The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem no
+more than miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back yard;
+the smoke, which rises in light clouds, instead of making me dream of the
+panting of Vesuvius, reminds me of kitchen preparations and dishwater;
+and lastly, the telegraph, that I see far off on the old tower of
+Montmartre, has the effect of a vile gallows stretching its arms over the
+city.
+
+My eyes, thus hurt by all they meet, fall upon the great man's house
+which faces my attic.
+
+The influence of New-Year's Day is visible there.  The servants have an
+air of eagerness proportioned to the value of their New-Year's gifts,
+received or expected.  I see the master of the house crossing the court
+with the morose look of a man who is forced to be generous; and the
+visitors increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers, bandboxes,
+or toys.  Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new carriage, drawn
+by thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps.  They are, without
+doubt, the New-Year's gift presented to the mistress of the house by her
+husband; for she comes herself to look at the new equipage.  Very soon
+she gets into it with a little girl, all streaming with laces, feathers
+and velvets, and loaded with parcels which she goes to distribute as New-
+Year's gifts.  The door is shut, the windows are drawn up, the carriage
+sets off.
+
+Thus all the world are exchanging good wishes and presents to-day.  I
+alone have nothing to give or to receive.  Poor Solitary!  I do not even
+know one chosen being for whom I might offer a prayer.
+
+Then let my wishes for a happy New Year go and seek out all my unknown
+friends--lost in the multitude which murmurs like the ocean at my feet!
+
+To you first, hermits in cities, for whom death and poverty have created
+a solitude in the midst of the crowd!  unhappy laborers, who are
+condemned to toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in silence and
+desertion, and whom God has withdrawn from the intoxicating pangs of love
+and friendship!
+
+To you, fond dreamers, who pass through life with your eyes turned toward
+some polar star, while you tread with indifference over the rich harvests
+of reality!
+
+To you, honest fathers, who lengthen out the evening to maintain your
+families! to you, poor widows, weeping and working by a cradle! to you,
+young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large
+enough to lead through it the wife of your choice! to you, all brave
+soldiers of work and of self-sacrifice!
+
+To you, lastly, whatever your title and your name, who love good, who
+pity the suffering; who walk through the world like the symbolical Virgin
+of Byzantium, with both arms open to the human race!
+
+Here I am suddenly interrupted by loud and increasing chirpings.  I look
+about me: my window is surrounded with sparrows picking up the crumbs of
+bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof.  At this
+sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart.  I deceived myself
+just now, when I complained that I had nothing to give: thanks to me, the
+sparrows of this part of the town will have their New-Year's gifts!
+
+Twelve o'clock.--A knock at my door; a poor girl comes in, and greets me
+by name.  At first I do not recollect her; but she looks at me, and
+smiles.  Ah! it is Paulette!  But it is almost a year since I have seen
+her, and Paulette is no longer the same: the other day she was a child,
+now she is almost a young woman.
+
+Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has always the same
+open and straightforward look--the same mouth, smiling at every word, as
+if to court your sympathy--the same voice, somewhat timid, yet expressing
+fondness.  Paulette is not pretty--she is even thought plain; as for me,
+I think her charming.  Perhaps that is not on her account, but on my own.
+Paulette appears to me as one of my happiest recollections.
+
+It was the evening of a public holiday.  Our principal buildings were
+illuminated with festoons of fire, a thousand flags waved in the night
+winds, and the fireworks had just shot forth their spouts of flame into
+the midst of the Champ de Mars.  Suddenly, one of those unaccountable
+alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd:
+they cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the
+frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive struggles.  I
+escaped from the confusion by a miracle, and was hastening away, when the
+cries of a perishing child arrested me: I reentered that human chaos,
+and, after unheard-of exertions, I brought Paulette out of it at the
+peril of my life.
+
+That was two years ago: since then I had not seen the child again but at
+long intervals, and I had almost forgotten her; but Paulette's memory was
+that of a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year to
+offer me her wishes for my happiness.  She brought me, besides, a
+wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted and reared it: it was
+something that belonged wholly to herself; for it was by her care, her
+perseverance, and her patience, that she had obtained it.
+
+The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette, who is a bandbox-
+maker, had put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented with
+arabesques.  These might have been in better taste, but I did not feel
+the attention and good-will the less.
+
+This unexpected present, the little girl's modest blushes, the
+compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of
+mist which had gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed from
+the leaden tints of evening to the brightest colors of dawn.  I made
+Paulette sit down, and questioned her with a light heart.
+
+At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon the
+tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted with short interjections
+her long and confidential talk.  The poor child leads a hard life.  She
+was left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister, and lives with
+an old grandmother, who has "brought them up to poverty," as she always
+calls it.
+
+However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her little sister
+Perrine begins to use the needle, and her brother Henry is apprentice to
+a printer.  All would go well if it were not for losses and want of work
+--if it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which grow
+larger, and for the winter, when you cannot get sunshine for nothing.
+Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that her wood
+costs too much.  The fireplace in their garret is so large that a fagot
+makes no more show in it than a match; it is so near the roof that the
+wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the hearth; so
+they have left off using it.  Henceforth they must be content with an
+earthen chafing-dish, upon which they cook their meals.  The grandmother
+had often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the broker's close by;
+but he asked seven francs for it, and the times are too hard for such an
+expense: the family, therefore, resign themselves to cold for economy!
+
+As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness
+and low spirits.  The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker
+created within me a wish that soon became a plan.  I questioned her about
+her daily occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must
+go, with her brother, her sister, and grandmother, to the different
+people for whom they work.  My plan was immediately settled.  I told the
+child that I would go to see her in the evening, and I sent her away with
+fresh thanks.
+
+I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid
+it welcome; the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and
+the day, which began so loweringly, had become bright.  I sang as I moved
+about my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out.
+
+Three o'clock.--All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-doctor;
+he will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new.
+At five o'clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette's
+grandmother's room.
+
+Midnight.--All has gone off well.  At the hour agreed upon, I was at the
+old bandbox-maker's; she was still out.  My Piedmontese
+
+     [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named "Piedmontese" or "Savoyard,"
+     as they usually come from that country.]
+
+fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace,
+taken from my winter stock.  I shall make up for them by warming myself
+with walking, or by going to bed earlier.
+
+My heart beat at every step that was heard on the staircase; I trembled
+lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil
+my intended surprise.  But no!--see everything ready: the lighted stove
+murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of oil
+for it is provided on the shelf.  The chimney-doctor is gone.  Now my
+fear lest they should come is changed into impatience at their not
+coming.  At last I hear children's voices; here they are: they push open
+the door and rush in--but they all stop in astonishment.
+
+At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there
+like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost
+frightened.  Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of
+the grandmother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finishes the
+explanation.  Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks!
+
+But the wonders are not yet ended.  The little sister opens the oven, and
+discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on
+the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the
+basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh
+rolls.
+
+Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen
+such a feast!  They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a
+complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it.  I had
+brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied
+the enjoyment.
+
+What bursts of laughter at nothing!  What a hubbub of questions which
+waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question!  The old
+woman herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones!  I have
+always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their
+wretchedness.  Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain
+of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself.  But the surfeited rich
+are more difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit
+before they will consent to be happy.
+
+The evening has passed like a moment.  The old woman told me the history
+of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes.  Perrine sang
+an old ballad with her fresh young voice.  Henry told us what he knows of
+the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs.  At
+last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of
+the happy family.
+
+I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure
+enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening.  It has given me much
+comfort and much instruction.  Now, no New-Year's Day will come amiss to
+me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and
+nothing to receive.
+
+As I came in, I met my rich neighbor's new equipage.  She, too, had just
+returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the carriage-
+step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur "At last!"
+
+I, when I left Paulette's family, said "So soon!"
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER II
+
+THE CARNIVAL
+
+February 20th
+
+What a noise out of doors!  What is the meaning of these shouts and
+cries?  Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the
+maskers are passing.
+
+Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian
+festivals of the pagan times, but it has changed the names.  That which
+it has given to these "days of liberty" announces the ending of the
+feasts, and the month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means,
+literally, "farewell to flesh!"  It is a forty days' farewell to the
+"blessed pullets and fat hams," so celebrated by Pantagruel's minstrel.
+Man prepares for privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thoroughly
+before he begins to repent.
+
+Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some one of
+these mad festivals?  Must we believe that it requires such an effort for
+men to be reasonable, that the weaker ones have need of rest at
+intervals?  The monks of La Trappe, who are condemned to silence by their
+rule, are allowed to speak once in a month, and on this day they all talk
+at once from the rising to the setting of the sun.
+
+Perhaps it is the same in the world.  As we are obliged all the year to
+be decent, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a long restraint
+during the Carnival.  It is a door opened to the incongruous fancies and
+wishes that have hitherto been crowded back into a corner of our brain.
+For a moment the slaves become the masters, as in the days of the
+Saturnalia, and all is given up to the "fools of the family."
+
+The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase--on foot,
+in carriages, and on horseback.  It is now who can attract the most
+attention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exciting curiosity
+or envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to the
+employments and troubles of yesterday.
+
+Alas!  thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders;
+our whole life is often but an unsightly Carnival!  And yet man has need
+of holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart.  Can
+he not have them, then, with these coarse pleasures?  Economists have
+been long inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of the
+human race.  Ah!  if I could only discover the best disposal of its
+leisure!  It is easy enough to find it work; but who will find it
+relaxation?  Work supplies the daily bread; but it is cheerfulness that
+gives it a relish.  O philosophers!  go in quest of pleasure!  find us
+amusements without brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word,
+invent a Carnival that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one.
+
+
+Three o'clock.--I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire.  As
+this is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too.  So
+I light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup of
+the coffee that my portress's son brought from the Levant, and I look in
+my bookcase for one of my favorite authors.
+
+First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are too
+fond of talking slang:--Voltaire; but he disheartens men by always
+bantering them:--Moliere; but he hinders one's laughter by making one
+think:--Lesage; let us stop at him.  Being profound rather than grave, he
+preaches virtue while ridiculing vice; if bitterness is sometimes to be
+found in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees the
+miseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly tricks
+without hating it.
+
+Let us call up all the heroes of his book....  Gil Blas, Fabrice,
+Sangrado, the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio!
+Ye gay or graceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude;
+bring hither for my amusement the world-carnival, of which you are the
+brilliant maskers!
+
+Unfortunately, at the very moment I made this invocation, I recollected
+I had a letter to write which could not be put off.  One of my attic
+neighbors came yesterday to ask me to do it.  He is a cheerful old man,
+and has a passion for pictures and prints.  He comes home almost every
+day with a drawing or painting--probably of little value; for I know he
+lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows
+his poverty.  His only son, who was married in England, is just dead, and
+his widow--left without any means, and with an old mother and a child--
+had written to beg for a home.  M. Antoine asked me first to translate
+the letter, and then to write a refusal.  I had promised that he should
+have this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our promises.
+
+The sheet of "Bath" paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the
+ink, and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I
+perceive that I have not my dictionary.  Now, a Parisian who would speak
+English without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings; the
+ground trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step.  I run then
+to the bookbinder's, where I left my Johnson, who lives close by in the
+square.
+
+The door is half open; I hear low groans; I enter without knocking,
+and I see the bookbinder by the bedside of his fellow-lodger.  This
+latter has a violent fever and delirium.  Pierre looks at him perplexed
+and out of humor.  I learn from him that his comrade was not able to get
+up in the morning, and that since then he has become worse every hour.
+
+I ask whether they have sent for a doctor.
+
+"Oh, yes, indeed!"  replied Pierre, roughly; "one must have money in
+one's pocket for that, and this fellow has only debts instead of
+savings."
+
+"But you," said I, rather astonished; "are you not his friend?"
+
+"Friend!"  interrupted the bookbinder.  "Yes, as much as the shaft-horse
+is friend to the leader--on condition that each will take his share of
+the draught, and eat his feed by himself."
+
+"You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?"
+
+"Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I'm going to the ball."
+
+"You mean to leave him alone?"
+
+"Well! must I miss a party of pleasure at Courtville--[A Parisian summer
+resort.]--because this fellow is lightheaded?"  asked Pierre, sharply.
+"I have promised to meet some friends at old Desnoyer's.  Those who are
+sick may take their broth; my physic is white wine."
+
+So saying, he untied a bundle, out of which he took the fancy costume of
+a waterman, and proceeded to dress himself in it.
+
+In vain I tried to awaken some fellow-feeling for the unfortunate man who
+lay groaning there close by him; being entirely taken up with the
+thoughts of his expected pleasure, Pierre would hardly so much as hear
+me.  At last his coarse selfishness provoked me.  I began reproaching
+instead of remonstrating with him, and I declared him responsible for the
+consequences which such a desertion must bring upon the sick man.
+
+At this the bookbinder, who was just going, stopped with an oath, and
+stamped his foot.  "Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for
+footbaths, pray?"
+
+"You must not leave your comrade to die without help!"  I replied.
+
+"Let him go to the hospital, then!"
+
+"How can he by himself?"
+
+Pierre seemed to make up his mind.
+
+"Well, I'm going to take him," resumed he; "besides, I shall get rid of
+him sooner.  Come, get up, comrade!"  He shook his comrade, who had not
+taken off his clothes.  I observed that he was too weak to walk, but the
+bookbinder would not listen: he made him get up, and half dragged, half
+supported him to the lodge of the porter, who ran for a hackney carriage.
+I saw the sick man get into it, almost fainting, with the impatient
+waterman; and they both set off, one perhaps to die, the other to dine at
+Courtville Gardens!
+
+
+Six o'clock.--I have been to knock at my neighbor's door, who opened it
+himself; and I have given him his letter, finished at last, and directed
+to his son's widow.  M. Antoine thanked me gratefully, and made me sit
+down.
+
+It was the first time I had been into the attic of the old amateur.
+Curtains stained with damp and hanging down in rags, a cold stove, a bed
+of straw, two broken chairs, composed all the furniture.  At the end of
+the room were a great number of prints in a heap, and paintings without
+frames turned against the wall.
+
+At the moment I came in, the old man was making his dinner on some hard
+crusts of bread, which he was soaking in a glass of 'eau sucree'.  He
+perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little
+ashamed.
+
+"There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor," said he, with a
+smile.
+
+I replied that at least I thought it a very philosophical one for the
+Carnival.
+
+M. Antoine shook his head, and went on again with his supper.
+
+"Every one keeps his holidays in his own way," resumed he, beginning
+again to dip a crust into his glass.  "There are several sorts of
+epicures, and not all feasts are meant to regale the palate; there are
+some also for the ears and the eyes."
+
+I looked involuntarily round me, as if to seek for the invisible banquet
+which could make up to him for such a supper.
+
+Without doubt he understood me; for he got up slowly, and, with the
+magisterial air of a man confident in what he is about to do, he rummaged
+behind several picture frames, drew forth a painting, over which he
+passed his hand, and silently placed it under the light of the lamp.
+
+It represented a fine-looking old man, seated at table with his wife, his
+daughter, and his children, and singing to the accompaniment of musicians
+who appeared in the background.  At first sight I recognized the subject,
+which I had often admired at the Louvre, and I declared it to be a
+splendid copy of Jordaens.
+
+"A copy!"  cried M. Antoine; "say an original, neighbor, and an original
+retouched by Rubens!  Look closer at the head of the old man, the dress
+of the young woman, and the accessories.  One can count the pencil-
+strokes of the Hercules of painters.  It is not only a masterpiece, sir;
+it is a treasure--a relic!  The picture at the Louvre may be a pearl,
+this is a diamond!"
+
+And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light,
+he fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the
+wonderful picture.  One would have said that the sight of it gave the
+crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied his
+glass by little sips.  His shrivelled features became smooth, his
+nostrils expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, "a feast for the
+eyes."
+
+"You see that I also have my treat," he resumed, nodding his head with an
+air of triumph.  "Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me, this
+is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival."
+
+"But if this painting is really so precious," replied I, "it ought to be
+worth a high price."
+
+"Eh! eh!"  said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference.  "In good
+times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand
+francs."
+
+I started back.
+
+"And you have bought it?"  cried I.
+
+"For nothing," replied he, lowering his voice.  "These brokers are asses;
+mine mistook this for a student's copy; he let me have it for fifty
+louis, ready money!  This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes
+to be off the bargain."
+
+"This morning!"  repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter
+containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son's
+widow, which was still on the little table.
+
+He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work
+of Jordaens in an ecstasy.
+
+"What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!"  he murmured, biting his last crust in
+delight.  "What relief! what fire!  Where can one find such transparency
+of color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!"
+
+As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for
+admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder.
+
+"You are dazzled," said he merrily; "you did not expect such a treasure!
+What do you say to the bargain I have made?"
+
+"Pardon me," replied I, gravely; "but I think you might have done
+better."
+
+M. Antoine raised his head.
+
+"How!" cried he; "do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about
+the merit or value of a painting?"
+
+"I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking
+that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have
+had--"
+
+"What then?"
+
+"The family itself, sir."
+
+The old amateur cast a look at me, not of anger, but of contempt.
+In his eyes I had evidently just proved myself a barbarian, incapable of
+understanding the arts, and unworthy of enjoying them.  He got up without
+answering me, hastily took up the Jordaens, and replaced it in its
+hiding-place behind the prints.
+
+It was a sort of dismissal; I took leave of him, and went away.
+
+
+Seven o'clock.--When I come in again, I find my water boiling over my
+lamp, and I busy myself in grinding my Mocha, and setting out my coffee-
+things.
+
+The getting coffee ready is the most delicate and most attractive of
+domestic operations to one who lives alone: it is the grand work of a
+bachelor's housekeeping.
+
+Coffee is, so to say, just the mid-point between bodily and spiritual
+nourishment.  It acts agreeably, and at the same time, upon the senses
+and the thoughts.  Its very fragrance gives a sort of delightful activity
+to the wits; it is a genius that lends wings to our fancy, and transports
+it to the land of the Arabian Nights.
+
+When I am buried in my old easy-chair, my feet on the fender before a
+blazing fire, my ear soothed by the singing of the coffee-pot, which
+seems to gossip with my fire-irons, the sense of smell gently excited by
+the aroma of the Arabian bean, and my eyes shaded by my cap pulled down
+over them, it often seems as if each cloud of the fragrant steam took a
+distinct form.  As in the mirages of the desert, in each as it rises, I
+see some image of which my mind had been longing for the reality.
+
+At first the vapor increases, and its color deepens.  I see a cottage on
+a hillside: behind is a garden shut in by a whitethorn hedge, and through
+the garden runs a brook, on the banks of which I hear the bees humming.
+
+Then the view opens still more.  See those fields planted with apple-
+trees, in which I can distinguish a plough and horses waiting for their
+master!  Farther on, in a part of the wood which rings with the sound of
+the axe, I perceive the woodsman's hut, roofed with turf and branches;
+and, in the midst of all these rural pictures, I seem to see a figure of
+myself gliding about.  It is my ghost walking in my dream!
+
+The bubbling of the water, ready to boil over, compels me to break off my
+meditations, in order to fill up the coffee-pot.  I then remember that I
+have no cream; I take my tin can off the hook and go down to the
+milkwoman's.
+
+Mother Denis is a hale countrywoman from Savoy, which she left when quite
+young; and, contrary to the custom of the Savoyards, she has not gone
+back to it again.  She has neither husband nor child, notwithstanding the
+title they give her; but her kindness, which never sleeps, makes her
+worthy of the name of mother.
+
+A brave creature!  Left by herself in the battle of life, she makes good
+her humble place in it by working, singing, helping others, and leaving
+the rest to God.
+
+At the door of the milk-shop I hear loud bursts of laughter.  In one of
+the corners of the shop three children are sitting on the ground.  They
+wear the sooty dress of Savoyard boys, and in their hands they hold large
+slices of bread and cheese.  The youngest is besmeared up to the eyes
+with his, and that is the reason of their mirth.
+
+Mother Denis points them out to me.
+
+"Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!"  said she, putting
+her hand on the head of the little glutton.
+
+"He has had no breakfast," puts in one of the others by way of excuse.
+
+"Poor little thing," said the milkwoman; "he is left alone in the streets
+of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good God!"
+
+"And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?" I replied, gently.
+
+"What I do is little enough," said Mother Denis, measuring out my milk;
+"but every day I get some of them together out of the street, that for
+once they may have enough to eat.  Dear children! their mothers will make
+up for it in heaven.  Not to mention that they recall my native mountains
+to me: when they sing and dance, I seem to see our old father again."
+
+Here her eyes filled with tears.
+
+"So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?"
+resumed I.
+
+"Yes!  yes!"  said she, "and by their happiness, too!  The laughter of
+these little ones, sir, is like a bird's song; it makes you gay, and
+gives you heart to live."
+
+As she spoke she cut some fresh slices of bread and cheese, and added
+some apples and a handful of nuts to them.
+
+"Come, my little dears," she cried, "put these into your pockets against
+to-morrow."
+
+Then, turning to me:
+
+"To-day I am ruining myself," added she; "but we must all have our
+Carnival."
+
+I came away without saying a word: I was too much affected.
+
+At last I have discovered what true pleasure is.  After beholding the
+egotism of sensuality and of intellect, I have found the happy self-
+sacrifice of goodness.  Pierre, M. Antoine, and Mother Denis had all kept
+their Carnival; but for the first two, it was only a feast for the senses
+or the mind; while for the third, it was a feast for the heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW
+
+March 3d
+
+A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have
+compared it to a night of fever!  What alternate fits of restlessness and
+sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst!
+what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies!  We can neither sleep nor
+wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of
+action.  Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the
+last third in repenting.
+
+When I say human existence, I mean my own!  We are so made that each of
+us regards himself as the mirror of the community: what passes in our
+minds infallibly seems to us a history of the universe.  Every man is
+like the drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself
+staggering.
+
+And why am I uncertain and restless--I, a poor day-laborer in the world--
+who fill an obscure station in a corner of it, and whose work it avails
+itself of, without heeding the workman?  I will tell you, my unseen
+friend, for whom these lines are written; my unknown brother, on whom the
+solitary call in sorrow; my imaginary confidant, to whom all monologues
+are addressed and who is but the shadow of our own conscience.
+
+A great event has happened in my life!  A crossroad has suddenly opened
+in the middle of the monotonous way along which I was travelling quietly,
+and without thinking of it.  Two roads present themselves, and I must
+choose between them.  One is only the continuation of that I have
+followed till now; the other is wider, and exhibits wondrous prospects.
+On the first there is nothing to fear, but also little to hope; on the
+other are great dangers and great fortune.  Briefly, the question is,
+whether I shall give up the humble office in which I thought to die, for
+one of those bold speculations in which chance alone is banker!  Ever
+since yesterday I have consulted with myself; I have compared the two and
+I remain undecided.
+
+Where shall I find light--who will advise me?
+
+
+Sunday, 4th.--See the sun coming out from the thick fogs of winter!
+Spring announces its approach; a soft breeze skims over the roofs, and my
+wallflower begins to blow again.
+
+We are near that sweet season of fresh green, of which the poets of the
+sixteenth century sang with so much feeling:
+
+                    Now the gladsome month of May
+                    All things newly doth array;
+                    Fairest lady, let me too
+                    In thy love my life renew.
+
+The chirping of the sparrows calls me: they claim the crumbs I scatter to
+them every morning.  I open my window, and the prospect of roofs opens
+out before me in all its splendor.
+
+He who has lived only on a first floor has no idea of the picturesque
+variety of such a view.  He has never contemplated these tile-colored
+heights which intersect each other; he has not followed with his eyes
+these gutter-valleys, where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens waves,
+the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes, and the
+sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to a blaze of
+fire.  He has not studied the flora of these Alps of civilization,
+carpeted by lichens and mosses; he is not acquainted with the myriad
+inhabitants that people them, from the microscopic insect to the domestic
+cat--that reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl, or in ambush;
+he has not witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or a cloudy sky; nor
+the thousand effects of light, that make these upper regions a theatre
+with ever-changing scenes!  How many times have my days of leisure passed
+away in contemplating this wonderful sight; in discovering its darker or
+brighter episodes; in seeking, in short, in this unknown world for the
+impressions of travel that wealthy tourists look for lower!
+
+
+Nine o'clock.--But why, then, have not my winged neighbors picked up the
+crumbs I have scattered for them before my window?  I see them fly away,
+come back, perch upon the ledges of the windows, and chirp at the sight
+of the feast they are usually so ready to devour!  It is not my presence
+that frightens them; I have accustomed them to eat out of my hand.  Then,
+why this fearful suspense?  In vain I look around: the roof is clear, the
+windows near are closed.  I crumble the bread that remains from my
+breakfast to attract them by an ampler feast.  Their chirpings increase,
+they bend down their heads, the boldest approach upon the wing, but
+without daring to alight.
+
+Come, come, my sparrows are the victims of one of the foolish panics
+which make the funds fall at the Bourse!  It is plain that birds are not
+more reasonable than men!
+
+With this reflection I was about to shut my window, when suddenly I
+perceived, in a spot of sunshine on my right, the shadow of two pricked-
+up ears; then a paw advanced, then the head of a tabby-cat showed itself
+at the corner of the gutter.  The cunning fellow was lying there in wait,
+hoping the crumbs would bring him some game.
+
+And I had accused my guests of cowardice!  I was so sure that no danger
+could menace them!  I thought I had looked well everywhere!  I had only
+forgotten the corner behind me!
+
+In life, as on the roofs, how many misfortunes come from having forgotten
+a single corner!
+
+
+Ten o'clock.--I cannot leave my window; the rain and the cold have kept
+it shut so long that I must reconnoitre all the environs to be able to
+take possession of them again.  My eyes search in succession all the
+points of the jumbled and confused prospect, passing on or stopping
+according to what they light upon.
+
+Ah! see the windows upon which they formerly loved to rest; they are
+those of two unknown neighbors, whose different habits they have long
+remarked.
+
+One is a poor work-woman, who rises before sunrise, and whose profile is
+shadowed upon her little muslin window-curtain far into the evening; the
+other is a young songstress, whose vocal flourishes sometimes reach my
+attic by snatches.  When their windows are open, that of the work-woman
+discovers a humble but decent abode; the other, an elegantly furnished
+room.  But to-day a crowd of tradespeople throng the latter: they take
+down the silk hangings and carry off the furniture, and I now remember
+that the young singer passed under my window this morning with her veil
+down, and walking with the hasty step of one who suffers some inward
+trouble.  Ah! I guess it all.  Her means are exhausted in elegant
+fancies, or have been taken away by some unexpected misfortune, and now
+she has fallen from luxury to indigence.  While the work-woman manages
+not only to keep her little room, but also to furnish it with decent
+comfort by her steady toil, that of the singer is become the property of
+brokers.  The one sparkled for a moment on the wave of prosperity; the
+other sails slowly but safely along the coast of a humble and laborious
+industry.
+
+Alas! is there not here a lesson for us all?  Is it really in hazardous
+experiments, at the end of which we shall meet with wealth or ruin, that
+the wise man should employ his years of strength and freedom?  Ought he
+to consider life as a regular employment which brings its daily wages,
+or as a game in which the future is determined by a few throws?  Why seek
+the risk of extreme chances?  For what end hasten to riches by dangerous
+roads?  Is it really certain that happiness is the prize of brilliant
+successes, rather than of a wisely accepted poverty?  Ah! if men but knew
+in what a small dwelling joy can live, and how little it costs to furnish
+it!
+
+
+Twelve o'clock.--I have been walking up and down my attic for a long
+time, with my arms folded and my eyes on the ground!  My doubts increase,
+like shadows encroaching more and more on some bright space; my fears
+multiply; and the uncertainty becomes every moment more painful to me!
+It is necessary for me to decide to-day, and before the evening!  I hold
+the dice of my future fate in my hands, and I dare not throw them.
+
+
+Three o'clock.--The sky has become cloudy, and a cold wind begins to blow
+from the west; all the windows which were opened to the sunshine of a
+beautiful day are shut again.  Only on the opposite side of the street,
+the lodger on the last story has not yet left his balcony.
+
+One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, his gray moustaches,
+and the ribbon that decorates his buttonhole.  Indeed, one might have
+guessed as much from the care he takes of the little garden which is the
+ornament of his balcony in mid-air; for there are two things especially
+loved by all old soldiers--flowers and children.  They have been so long,
+obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut off
+from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin life
+at an age when others end it.  The tastes of their early years, which
+were arrested by the stern duties of war, suddenly break out again with
+their white hairs, and are like the savings of youth which they spend
+again in old age.  Besides, they have been condemned to be destroyers for
+so long that perhaps they feel a secret pleasure in creating, and seeing
+life spring up again: the beauty of weakness has a grace and an
+attraction the more for those who have been the agents of unbending
+force; and the watching over the frail germs of life has all the charms
+of novelty for these old workmen of death.
+
+Therefore the cold wind has not driven my neighbor from his balcony.
+He is digging up the earth in his green boxes, and carefully sowing the
+seeds of the scarlet nasturtium, convolvulus, and sweet-pea.  Henceforth
+he will come every day to watch for their first sprouting, to protect the
+young shoots from weeds or insects, to arrange the strings for the
+tendrils to climb on, and carefully to regulate their supply of water and
+heat!
+
+How much labor to bring in the desired harvest!  For that, how many times
+shall I see him brave cold or heat, wind or sun, as he does to-day!  But
+then, in the hot summer days, when the blinding dust whirls in clouds
+through our streets, when the eye, dazzled by the glare of white stucco,
+knows not where to rest, and the glowing roofs reflect their heat upon us
+to burning, the old soldier will sit in his arbor and perceive nothing
+but green leaves and flowers around him, and the breeze will come cool
+and fresh to him through these perfumed shades.  His assiduous care will
+be rewarded at last.
+
+We must sow the seeds, and tend the growth, if we would enjoy the flower.
+
+
+Four o'clock.--The clouds that have been gathering in the horizon for a
+long time are become darker; it thunders loudly, and the rain pours down!
+Those who are caught in it fly in every direction, some laughing and some
+crying.
+
+I always find particular amusement in these helter-skelters, caused by a
+sudden storm.  It seems as if each one, when thus taken by surprise,
+loses the factitious character that the world or habit has given him,
+and appears in his true colors.
+
+See, for example, that big man with deliberate step, who suddenly forgets
+his indifference, made to order, and runs like a schoolboy!  He is a
+thrifty city gentleman, who, with all his fashionable airs, is afraid to
+spoil his hat.
+
+That pretty woman yonder, on the contrary, whose looks are so modest,
+and whose dress is so elaborate, slackens her pace with the increasing
+storm.  She seems to find pleasure in braving it, and does not think of
+her velvet cloak spotted by the hail!  She is evidently a lioness in
+sheep's clothing.
+
+Here, a young man, who was passing, stops to catch some of the hailstones
+in his hand, and examines them.  By his quick and business-like walk just
+now, you would have taken him for a tax-gatherer on his rounds, when he
+is a young philosopher, studying the effects of electricity.  And those
+schoolboys who leave their ranks to run after the sudden gusts of a March
+whirlwind; those girls, just now so demure, but who now fly with bursts
+of laughter; those national guards, who quit the martial attitude of
+their days of duty to take refuge under a porch!  The storm has caused
+all these transformations.
+
+See, it increases!  The hardiest are obliged to seek shelter.  I see
+every one rushing toward the shop in front of my window, which a bill
+announces is to let.  It is for the fourth time within a few months.
+A year ago all the skill of the joiner and the art of the painter were
+employed in beautifying it, but their works are already destroyed by the
+leaving of so many tenants; the cornices of the front are disfigured by
+mud; the arabesques on the doorway are spoiled by bills posted upon them
+to announce the sale of the effects.  The splendid shop has lost some of
+its embellishments with each change of the tenant.  See it now empty, and
+left open to the passersby.  How much does its fate resemble that of so
+many who, like it, only change their occupation to hasten the faster to
+ruin!
+
+I am struck by this last reflection: since the morning everything seems
+to speak to me, and with the same warning tone.  Everything says: "Take
+care! be content with your happy, though humble lot; happiness can be
+retained only by constancy; do not forsake your old patrons for the
+protection of those who are unknown!"
+
+Are they the outward objects which speak thus, or does the warning come
+from within?  Is it not I myself who give this language to all that
+surrounds me?  The world is but an instrument, to which we give sound at
+will.  But what does it signify if it teaches us wisdom?  The low voice
+that speaks in our breasts is always a friendly voice, for it tells us
+what we are, that is to say, what is our capability.  Bad conduct
+results, for the most part, from mistaking our calling.  There are so
+many fools and knaves, because there are so few men who know themselves.
+The question is not to discover what will suit us, but for what we are
+suited!
+
+What should I do among these many experienced financial speculators?  I
+am only a poor sparrow, born among the housetops, and should always fear
+the enemy crouching in the dark corner; I am a prudent workman, and
+should think of the business of my neighbors who so suddenly disappeared;
+I am a timid observer, and should call to mind the flowers so slowly
+raised by the old soldier, or the shop brought to ruin by constant change
+of masters.  Away from me, ye banquets, over which hangs the sword of
+Damocles!  I am a country mouse.  Give me my nuts and hollow tree, and I
+ask nothing besides--except security.
+
+And why this insatiable craving for riches?  Does a man drink more when
+he drinks from a large glass?  Whence comes that universal dread of
+mediocrity, the fruitful mother of peace and liberty?  Ah!  there is the
+evil which, above every other, it should be the aim of both public and
+private education to anticipate!  If that were got rid of, what treasons
+would be spared, what baseness avoided, what a chain of excess and crime
+would be forever broken!  We award the palm to charity, and to self-
+sacrifice; but, above all, let us award it to moderation, for it is the
+great social virtue.  Even when it does not create the others, it stands
+instead of them.
+
+
+Six o'clock.--I have written a letter of thanks to the promoters of the
+new speculation, and have declined their offer!  This decision has
+restored my peace of mind.  I stopped singing, like the cobbler, as long
+as I entertained the hope of riches: it is gone, and happiness is come
+back!
+
+O beloved and gentle Poverty!  pardon me for having for a moment wished
+to fly from thee, as I would from Want.  Stay here forever with thy
+charming sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my queens
+and my instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far from my
+abode the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow
+prosperity.  Holy Poverty!  teach me to endure without complaining, to
+impart without grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in pleasure,
+farther off than in power.  Thou givest the body strength, thou makest
+the mind more firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the rich
+attach themselves as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may cut the
+cable without awakening all our fears.  Continue to sustain me, O thou
+whom Christ hath called Blessed!
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IV
+
+LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER
+
+April 9th
+
+The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their
+shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets of
+the flower-girls--all the world have begun their walks again on the quays
+and boulevards.  After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to breathe
+the evening air.
+
+It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty.  During the day the
+plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous whiteness;
+heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge wheels; the
+eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment from business,
+cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city altogether has
+something harsh, restless, and flurried about it.  But, as soon as the
+stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white houses is
+quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling but that
+of the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you see only the
+lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given place to leisure.
+Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through the business of
+the day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives to pleasure!  See
+the ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the eating-shops along the
+walks set out with dainties, and the twinkling lanterns of the newspaper
+criers.  Decidedly Paris has laid aside the pen, the ruler, and the
+apron; after the day spent in work, it must have the evening for
+enjoyment; like the masters of Thebes, it has put off all serious matter
+till tomorrow.
+
+I love to take part in this happy hour; not to mix in the general gayety,
+but to contemplate it.  If the enjoyments of others embitter jealous
+minds, they strengthen the humble spirit; they are the beams of sunshine,
+which open the two beautiful flowers called trust and hope.
+
+Although alone in the midst of the smiling multitude, I do not feel
+myself isolated from it, for its gayety is reflected upon me: it is my
+own kind, my own family, who are enjoying life, and I take a brother's
+share in their happiness.  We are all fellow-soldiers in this earthly
+battle, and what does it matter on whom the honors of the victory fall?
+If Fortune passes by without seeing us, and pours her favors on others,
+let us console ourselves, like the friend of Parmenio, by saying, "Those,
+too, are Alexanders."
+
+While making these reflections, I was going on as chance took me.  I
+crossed from one pavement to another, I retraced my steps, I stopped
+before the shops or to read the handbills.  How many things there are to
+learn in the streets of Paris!  What a museum it is!  Unknown fruits,
+foreign arms, furniture of old times or other lands, animals of all
+climates, statues of great men, costumes of distant nations!  It is the
+world seen in samples!
+
+Let us then look at this people, whose knowledge is gained from the shop-
+windows and the tradesman's display of goods.  Nothing has been taught
+them, but they have a rude notion of everything.  They have seen
+pineapples at Chevet's, a palm-tree in the Jardin des Plantes, sugar-
+canes selling on the Pont-Neuf.  The Redskins, exhibited in the Valentine
+Hall, have taught them to mimic the dance of the bison, and to smoke the
+calumet of peace; they have seen Carter's lions fed; they know the
+principal national costumes contained in Babin's collection; Goupil's
+display of prints has placed the tiger-hunts of Africa and the sittings
+of the English Parliament before their eyes; they have become acquainted
+with Queen Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, and Kossuth, at the office-
+door of the Illustrated News.  We can certainly instruct them, but not
+astonish them; for nothing is completely new to them.  You may take the
+Paris ragamuffin through the five quarters of the world, and at every
+wonder with which you think to surprise him, he will settle the matter
+with that favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know."
+
+But this variety of exhibitions, which makes Paris the fair of the world,
+does not offer merely a means of instruction to him who walks through it;
+it is a continual spur for rousing the imagination, a first step of the
+ladder always set up before us in a vision.  When we see them, how many
+voyages do we take in imagination, what adventures do we dream of, what
+pictures do we sketch!  I never look at that shop near the Chinese baths,
+with its tapestry hangings of Florida jessamine, and filled with
+magnolias, without seeing the forest glades of the New World, described
+by the author of Atala, opening themselves out before me.
+
+Then, when this study of things and this discourse of reason begin to
+tire you, look around you!  What contrasts of figures and faces you see
+in the crowd!  What a vast field for the exercise of meditation!  A half-
+seen glance, or a few words caught as the speaker passes by, open a
+thousand vistas to your imagination.  You wish to comprehend what these
+imperfect disclosures mean, and, as the antiquary endeavors to decipher
+the mutilated inscription on some old monument, you build up a history on
+a gesture or on a word!  These are the stirring sports of the mind, which
+finds in fiction a relief from the wearisome dullness of the actual.
+
+Alas!  as I was just now passing by the carriage-entrance of a great
+house, I noticed a sad subject for one of these histories.  A man was
+sitting in the darkest corner, with his head bare, and holding out his
+hat for the charity of those who passed.  His threadbare coat had that
+look of neatness which marks that destitution has been met by a long
+struggle.  He had carefully buttoned it up to hide the want of a shirt.
+His face was half hid under his gray hair, and his eyes were closed, as
+if he wished to escape the sight of his own humiliation, and he remained
+mute and motionless.  Those who passed him took no notice of the beggar,
+who sat in silence and darkness!  They had been so lucky as to escape
+complaints and importunities, and were glad to turn away their eyes too.
+
+Suddenly the great gate turned on its hinges; and a very low carriage,
+lighted with silver lamps and drawn by two black horses, came slowly out,
+and took the road toward the Faubourg St. Germain.  I could just
+distinguish, within, the sparkling diamonds and the flowers of a ball-
+dress; the glare of the lamps passed like a bloody streak over the pale
+face of the beggar, and showed his look as his eyes opened and followed
+the rich man's equipage until it disappeared in the night.
+
+I dropped a small piece of money into the hat he was holding out, and
+passed on quickly.
+
+I had just fallen unexpectedly upon the two saddest secrets of the
+disease which troubles the age we live in: the envious hatred of him who
+suffers want, and the selfish forgetfulness of him who lives in
+affluence.
+
+All the enjoyment of my walk was gone; I left off looking about me, and
+retired into my own heart.  The animated and moving sight in the streets
+gave place to inward meditation upon all the painful problems which have
+been written for the last four thousand years at the bottom of each human
+struggle, but which are propounded more clearly than ever in our days.
+
+I pondered on the uselessness of so many contests, in which defeat and
+victory only displace each other by turns, and on the mistaken zealots
+who have repeated from generation to generation the bloody history of
+Cain and Abel; and, saddened with these mournful reflections, I walked on
+as chance took me, until the silence all around insensibly drew me out
+from my own thoughts.
+
+I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live in
+comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection, delight
+to find a home.  There were no shops along the dimly lighted street; one
+heard no sounds but of distant carriages, and of the steps of some of the
+inhabitants returning quietly home.
+
+I instantly recognized the street, though I had been there only once
+before.
+
+That was two years ago.  I was walking at the time by the side of the
+Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of a
+lake surrounded by a garland of stars; and I had reached the Louvre, when
+I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet they had gathered
+round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the cause of his
+tears.
+
+"It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries," said a mason, who
+was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; "the servant who
+took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to wait
+for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made him
+more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find his way
+home."
+
+"Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?"
+
+"They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that
+he is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval--there are
+twelve hundred Duvals in Paris."
+
+"Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?"
+
+"I should not think, indeed!  Don't you see that he is a gentleman's
+child?  He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he
+does not know what to do by himself."
+
+Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the
+others.
+
+"We cannot leave him in the street," said some.
+
+"The child-stealers would carry him off," continued others.
+
+"We must take him to the overseer."
+
+"Or to the police-office."
+
+"That's the thing.  Come, little one!"
+
+But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the
+names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the
+parapet.  In vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist
+the more, and the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a
+little boy was heard through the confusion.
+
+"I know him well--I do," said he, looking at the lost child; "he belongs
+in our part of the town."
+
+"What part is it?"
+
+"Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards--Rue des Magasins."
+
+"And you have seen him before?"
+
+"Yes, yes!  he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where
+there is an iron gate with gilt points."
+
+The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying.  The little boy
+answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details as
+left no room for doubt.  The other child understood him, for he went up
+to him as if to put himself under his protection.
+
+"Then you can take him to his parents?"  asked the mason, who had
+listened with real interest to the little boy's account.
+
+"I don't care if I do," replied he; "it's the way I'm going."
+
+"Then you will take charge of him?"
+
+"He has only to come with me."
+
+And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pavement, he set off
+toward the postern-gate of the Louvre.
+
+The lost child followed him.
+
+"I hope he will take him right," said I, when I saw them go away.
+
+"Never fear," replied the mason; "the little one in the blouse is the
+same age as the other; but, as the saying is, he knows black from white;'
+poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress!"
+
+The crowd dispersed.  For my part, I went toward the Louvre; the thought
+came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any
+mistake.
+
+I was not long in overtaking them; they were walking side by side,
+talking, and already quite familiar with each other.  The contrast in
+their dress then struck me.  Little Duval wore one of those fanciful
+children's dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste; his coat
+was skilfully fitted to his figure, his trousers came down in plaits from
+his waist to his boots of polished leather with mother-of-pearl buttons,
+and his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap.  The appearance of his
+guide, on the contrary, was that of the class who dwell on the extreme
+borders of poverty, but who there maintain their ground with no
+surrender.  His old blouse, patched with pieces of different shades,
+indicated the perseverance of an industrious mother struggling against
+the wear and tear of time; his trousers were become too short, and showed
+his stockings darned over and over again; and it was evident that his
+shoes were not made for him.
+
+The countenances of the two children were not less different than their
+dress.  That of the first was delicate and refined; his clear blue eye,
+his fair skin, and his smiling mouth gave him a charming look of
+innocence and happiness.  The features of the other, on the contrary, had
+something rough in them; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion
+dark, his smile less merry than shrewd; all showed a mind sharpened by
+too early experience; he walked boldly through the middle of the streets
+thronged by carriages, and followed their countless turnings without
+hesitation.
+
+I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father,
+who was then working on the left bank of the Seine; and this responsible
+duty had made him careful and prudent.  He had learned those hard but
+forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal or supply the place
+of.  Unfortunately, the wants of his poor family had kept him from
+school, and he seemed to feel the loss; for he often stopped before the
+printshops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the
+engravings.  In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which
+the little wanderer seemed to know again.  Notwithstanding his fatigue,
+he hurried on; he was agitated by mixed feelings; at the sight of his
+house he uttered a cry, and ran toward the iron gate with the gilt
+points; a lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her arms,
+and from the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon
+perceived she was his mother.
+
+Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of
+them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety.
+
+I explained to her in a few words what had happened.  She thanked me
+warmly, and looked round for the little boy who had recognized and
+brought back her son; but while we were talking, he had disappeared.
+
+It was for the first time since then that I had come into this part of
+Paris.  Did the mother continue grateful?  Had the children met again,
+and had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that
+barrier which may mark the different ranks of men, but should not divide
+them?
+
+While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed
+my eyes on the great gate, which I just perceived.  Suddenly I saw it
+open, and two children appeared at the entrance.  Although much grown,
+I recognized them at first sight; they were the child who was found near
+the parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide.  But the dress of the
+latter was greatly changed: his blouse of gray cloth was neat, and even
+spruce, and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt; he
+wore strong shoes, but made for his feet, and had on a new cloth cap.
+Just at the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch
+of lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and
+primroses; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-by.
+M. Duval's son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner
+of the street.
+
+Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting; he
+looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me.
+
+"Forgive me if I do not make you a bow," said he, merrily, "but I want
+both my hands for the nosegay Monsieur Charles has given me."
+
+"You are, then, become great friends?"  said I.
+
+"Oh!  I should think so," said the child; "and now my father is rich
+too!"
+
+"How's that?"
+
+"Monsieur Duval lent him some money; he has taken a shop, where he works
+on his own account; and, as for me, I go to school."
+
+"Yes," replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated
+his little coat; "and I see that you are head-boy!"
+
+"Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in
+the class."
+
+"Are you now going to your lessons?"
+
+"Yes, and he has given me some lilacs; for he has a garden where we play
+together, and where my mother can always have flowers."
+
+"Then it is the same as if it were partly your own."
+
+"So it is!  Ah! they are good neighbors indeed.  But here I am; good-by,
+sir."
+
+He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared.
+
+I went on with my walk, still pensive, but with a feeling of relief.
+If I had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast between affluence and
+want, here I had found the true union of riches and poverty.  Hearty
+good-will had smoothed down the more rugged inequalities on both sides,
+and had opened a road of true neighborhood and fellowship between the
+humble workshop and the stately mansion.  Instead of hearkening to the
+voice of interest, they had both listened to that of self-sacrifice,
+and there was no place left for contempt or envy.  Thus, instead of the
+beggar in rags, that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man,
+I had found here the happy child of the laborer loaded with flowers and
+blessing him!  The problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into
+with no regard but for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+COMPENSATION
+
+Sunday, May 27th
+
+Capital cities have one thing peculiar to them: their days of rest seem
+to be the signal for a general dispersion and flight.  Like birds that
+are just restored to liberty, the people come out of their stone cages,
+and joyfully fly toward the country.  It is who shall find a green
+hillock for a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather May
+flowers, they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until the
+evening, when they return with sprigs of blooming hawthorn in their hats,
+and their hearts gladdened by pleasant thoughts and recollections of the
+past day; the next day they return again to their harness and to work.
+
+These rural adventures are most remarkable at Paris.  When the fine
+weather comes, clerks, shop keepers, and workingmen look forward
+impatiently for the Sunday as the day for trying a few hours of this
+pastoral life; they walk through six miles of grocers' shops and public-
+houses in the faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real turnip-field.
+The father of a family begins the practical education of his son by
+showing him wheat which has not taken the form of a loaf, and cabbage "in
+its wild state."  Heaven only knows the encounters, the discoveries, the
+adventures that are met with!  What Parisian has not had his Odyssey in
+an excursion through the suburbs, and would not be able to write a
+companion to the famous Travels by Land and by Sea from Paris to St.
+Cloud?
+
+We do not now speak of that floating population from all parts, for whom
+our French Babylon is the caravansary of Europe: a phalanx of thinkers,
+artists, men of business, and travellers, who, like Homer's hero, have
+arrived in their intellectual country after beholding "many peoples and
+cities;" but of the settled Parisian, who keeps his appointed place, and
+lives on his own floor like the oyster on his rock, a curious vestige of
+the credulity, the slowness, and the simplicity of bygone ages.
+
+For one of the singularities of Paris is, that it unites twenty
+populations completely different in character and manners.  By the
+side of the gypsies of commerce and of art, who wander through all the
+several stages of fortune or fancy, live a quiet race of people with an
+independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial
+of a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours.
+If no other city can show more brilliant and more stirring forms of life,
+no other contains more obscure and more tranquil ones.  Great cities are
+like the sea: storms agitate only the surface; if you go to the bottom,
+you find a region inaccessible to the tumult and the noise.
+
+For my part, I have settled on the verge of this region, but do not
+actually live in it.  I am removed from the turmoil of the world, and
+live in the shelter of solitude, but without being able to disconnect my
+thoughts from the struggle going on.  I follow at a distance all its
+events of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for how
+can he who looks on, and knows what passes, do other than take part?
+Ignorance alone can keep us strangers to the life around us: selfishness
+itself will not suffice for that.
+
+These reflections I made to myself in my attic, in the intervals of the
+various household works to which a bachelor is forced when he has no
+other servant than his own ready will.  While I was pursuing my
+deductions, I had blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and tied my cravat;
+I had at last arrived at the important moment when we pronounce
+complacently that all is finished, and that well.
+
+A grand resolve had just decided me to depart from my usual habits.
+The evening before, I had seen by the advertisements that the next day
+was a holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would be open to
+the public.  I was tempted by the beauty of the morning, and suddenly
+decided to go there.
+
+On my arrival at the station on the left bank, I noticed the crowd
+hurrying on in the fear of being late.  Railroads, besides many other
+advantages, possess that of teaching the French punctuality.  They will
+submit to the clock when they are convinced that it is their master;
+they will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for.
+Social virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits.  How many great
+qualities are grafted into nations by their geographical position, by
+political necessity, and by institutions!  Avarice was destroyed for a
+time among the Lacedaemonians by the creation of an iron coinage, too
+heavy and too bulky to be conveniently hoarded.
+
+I found myself in a carriage with two middle-aged women belonging to the
+domestic and retired class of Parisians I have spoken of above.  A few
+civilities were sufficient to gain me their confidence, and after some
+minutes I was acquainted with their whole history.
+
+They were two poor sisters, left orphans at fifteen, and had lived ever
+since, as those who work for their livelihood must live, by economy and
+privation.  For the last twenty or thirty years they had worked in
+jewelry in the same house; they had seen ten masters succeed one another,
+and make their fortunes in it, without any change in their own lot.  They
+had always lived in the same room, at the end of one of the passages in
+the Rue St. Denis, where the air and the sun are unknown.  They began
+their work before daylight, went on with it till after nightfall, and saw
+year succeed to year without their lives being marked by any other events
+than the Sunday service, a walk, or an illness.
+
+The younger of these worthy work-women was forty, and obeyed her sister
+as she did when a child.  The elder looked after her, took care of her,
+and scolded her with a mother's tenderness.  At first it was amusing;
+afterward one could not help seeing something affecting in these two
+gray-haired children, one unable to leave off the habit of obeying, the
+other that of protecting.
+
+And it was not in that alone that my two companions seemed younger than
+their years; they knew so little that their wonder never ceased.  We had
+hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily exclaimed, like the
+king in the children's game, that they "did not think the world was so
+great"!
+
+It was the first time they had trusted themselves on a railroad, and it
+was amusing to see their sudden shocks, their alarms, and their
+courageous determinations: everything was a marvel to them!  They had
+remains of youth within them, which made them sensible to things which
+usually only strike us in childhood.  Poor creatures! they had still the
+feelings of another age, though they had lost its charms.
+
+But was there not something holy in this simplicity, which had been
+preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life?  Ah! accursed
+be he who first had the had courage to attach ridicule to that name of
+"old maid," which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of
+dreariness, and of abandonment!  Accursed be he who can find a subject
+for sarcasm in involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with
+thorns!
+
+The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine.  This day's journey
+was a feat of courage without example in their lives.  The fever of the
+times had infected them unawares.  Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly
+proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it
+immediately.  Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great
+temptation offered by her younger sister; but "we have our follies at all
+ages," as the prudent Frances philosophically remarked.  As for
+Madeleine, there are no regrets or doubts for her; she is the life-
+guardsman of the establishment.
+
+"We really must amuse ourselves," said she; "we live but once."
+
+And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim.  It was evident that
+the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them.
+
+And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had
+interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial!  The sight
+of the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused them
+unceasing admiration.  The meeting a train passing in the contrary
+direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut
+their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared!  They look
+around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment
+at the marvel.
+
+Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the journey,
+and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not recollected, with
+some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their
+budget.  The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the
+savings of a whole week of work.  Thus the joy of the elder of the two
+sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now and then turned
+its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis.
+
+But the motion and the succession of objects distract her.  See the
+bridge of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right, Paris
+with its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle in the
+sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and its
+royal castle!  The two work-women look from one window to the other with
+exclamations of delight.  One fellow-passenger laughs at their childish
+wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the sign of a
+long and monotonous seclusion: they are the prisoners of work, who have
+recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours.
+
+At last the train stops, and we get out.  I show the two sisters the path
+that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go on
+before, while I inquire about the time of returning.
+
+I soon join them again at the next station, where they have stopped at
+the little garden belonging to the gatekeeper; both are already in deep
+conversation with him while he digs his garden-borders, and marks out the
+places for flower-seeds.  He informs them that it is the time for hoeing
+out weeds, for making grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and for
+destroying the insects on the rose-trees.  Madeleine has on the sill of
+her window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she has
+never been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she
+persuades herself that, thanks to this information, all other plants may
+henceforth thrive in them.  At last the gatekeeper, who is sowing a
+border with mignonette, gives her the rest of the seeds which he does not
+want, and the old maid goes off delighted, and begins to act over again
+the dream of Paired and her can of milk, with these flowers of her
+imagination.
+
+On reaching the grove of acacias, where the fair was going on, I lost
+sight of the two sisters.  I went alone among the sights: there were
+lotteries going on, mountebank shows, places for eating and drinking, and
+for shooting with the cross-bow.  I have always been struck by the spirit
+of these out-of-door festivities.  In drawing-room entertainments, people
+are cold, grave, often listless, and most of those who go there are
+brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the country
+assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are attracted by the
+hope of enjoyment.  There, it is a forced conscription; here, they are
+volunteers for gayety!  Then, how easily they are pleased!  How far this
+crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with nothing, and
+to look down on everything, is the height of fashion and good taste!
+Doubtless their amusements are often coarse; elegance and refinement are
+wanting in them; but at least they have heartiness.  Oh, that the hearty
+enjoyments of these merry-makings could be retained in union with less
+vulgar feeling!  Formerly religion stamped its holy character on the
+celebration of country festivals, and purified the pleasures without
+depriving them of their simplicity.
+
+The hour arrives at which the doors of the porcelain manufactory and the
+museum of pottery are open to the public.  I meet Frances and Madeleine
+again in the first room.  Frightened at finding themselves in the midst
+of such regal magnificence, they hardly dare walk; they speak in a low
+tone, as if they were in a church.
+
+"We are in the king's house," said the eldest sister, forgetting that
+there is no longer a king in France.
+
+I encourage them to go on; I walk first, and they make up their minds to
+follow me.
+
+What wonders are brought together in this collection!  Here we see clay
+moulded into every shape, tinted with every color, and combined with
+every sort of substance!
+
+Earth and wood are the first substances worked upon by man, and seem more
+particularly meant for his use.  They, like the domestic animals, are the
+essential accessories of his life; therefore there must be a more
+intimate connection between them and us.  Stone and metals require long
+preparations; they resist our first efforts, and belong less to the
+individual than to communities.  Earth and wood are, on the contrary, the
+principal instruments of the isolated being who must feed and shelter
+himself.
+
+This, doubtless, makes me feel so much interested in the collection I am
+examining.  These cups, so roughly modelled by the savage, admit me to a
+knowledge of some of his habits; these elegant yet incorrectly formed
+vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence,--in which still
+glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; these jars,
+loaded with arabesques, show the fancy of the Arab rudely and ignorantly
+copied by the Spaniard!  We find here the stamp of every race, every
+country, and every age.
+
+My companions seemed little interested in these historical associations;
+they looked at all with that credulous admiration which leaves no room
+for examination or discussion.  Madeleine read the name written under
+every piece of workmanship, and her sister answered with an exclamation
+of wonder.
+
+In this way we reached a little courtyard, where they had thrown away the
+fragments of some broken china.
+
+Frances perceived a colored saucer almost whole, of which she took
+possession as a record of the visit she was making; henceforth she would
+have a specimen of the Sevres china, "which is only made for kings!"
+I would not undeceive her by telling her that the products of the
+manufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before it
+was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for
+sixpence!  Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence?
+Are we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths?  Things
+are oftenest nothing in themselves; the thoughts we attach to them alone
+give them value.  To rectify innocent mistakes, in order to recover some
+useless reality, is to be like those learned men who will see nothing in
+a plant but the chemical elements of which it is composed.
+
+On leaving the manufactory, the two sisters, who had taken possession of
+me with the freedom of artlessness, invited me to share the luncheon they
+had brought with them.  I declined at first, but they insisted with so
+much good-nature, that I feared to pain them, and with some awkwardness
+gave way.
+
+We had only to look for a convenient spot.  I led them up the hill, and
+we found a plot of grass enamelled with daisies, and shaded by two
+walnut-trees.
+
+Madeleine could not contain herself for joy.  All her life she had
+dreamed of a dinner out on the grass!  While helping her sister to take
+the provisions from the basket, she tells me of all her expeditions into
+the country that had been planned, and put off.  Frances, on the other
+hand, was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she
+had often gone back to her nurse's house.  That which had the attraction
+of novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection.  She
+told of the vintage harvests to which her parents had taken her; the
+rides on Mother Luret's donkey, that they could not make go to the right
+without pulling him to the left; the cherry-gathering; and the sails on
+the lake in the innkeeper's boat.
+
+These recollections have all the charm and freshness of childhood.
+Frances recalls to herself less what she has seen than what she has felt.
+While she is talking the cloth is laid, and we sit down under a tree.
+Before us winds the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses abutting
+upon the gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side spreads
+out the park of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees
+interspersed with meadows; above stretch the heavens like an immense
+ocean, in which the clouds are sailing!  I look at this beautiful
+country, and I listen to these good old maids; I admire, and I am
+interested; and time passes gently on without my perceiving it.
+
+At last the sun sets, and we have to think of returning.  While Madeleine
+and Frances clear away the dinner, I walk down to the manufactory to ask
+the hour.  The merrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones
+resound from the band under the acacias.  For a few moments I forget
+myself with looking about; but I have promised the two sisters to take
+them back to the Bellevue station; the train cannot wait, and I make
+haste to climb the path again which leads to the walnut-trees.
+
+Just before I reached them, I heard voices on the other side of the
+hedge.  Madeleine and Frances were speaking to a poor girl whose clothes
+were burned, her hands blackened, and her face tied up with bloodstained
+bandages.  I saw that she was one of the girls employed at the gunpowder
+mills, which are built further up on the common.  An explosion had taken
+place a few days before; the girl's mother and elder sister were killed;
+she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of
+support.  She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of one
+who has always been accustomed to suffer.  The two sisters were much
+affected; I saw them consulting with each other in a low tone: then
+Frances took thirty sous out of a little coarse silk purse, which was all
+they had left, and gave them to the poor girl.  I hastened on to that
+side of the hedge; but, before I reached it, I met the two old sisters,
+who called out to me that they would not return by the railway, but on
+foot!
+
+I then understood that the money they had meant for the journey had just
+been given to the beggar!  Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the
+poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was to pay for my own place, and
+return to Frances and Madeleine, and tell them I will walk with them.
+
+                    ..........................
+
+I am just come back from taking them home; and have left them delighted
+with their day, the recollection of which will long make them happy.
+This morning I was pitying those whose lives are obscure and joyless;
+now, I understand that God has provided a compensation with every trial.
+The smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown.
+Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels no
+longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves to
+the other that first of earthly blessings: the being easily made happy.
+Oh, that I could persuade every one of this! that so the rich might not
+abuse their riches, and that the poor might have patience.  If happiness
+is the rarest of blessings, it is because the reception of it is the
+rarest of virtues.
+
+Madeleine and Frances! ye poor old maids whose courage, resignation, and
+generous hearts are your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give
+themselves up to despair; for the unhappy who hate and envy; and for the
+unfeeling into whose enjoyments no pity enters.
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Brought them up to poverty
+Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!"
+Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping
+Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
+Did not think the world was so great
+Do they understand what makes them so gay?
+Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community
+Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness
+Every one keeps his holidays in his own way
+Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know"
+Fear of losing a moment from business
+Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent
+Her kindness, which never sleeps
+Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply
+Moderation is the great social virtue
+No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give
+Our tempers are like an opera-glass
+Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress
+Prisoners of work
+Question is not to discover what will suit us
+Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival
+Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation
+What a small dwelling joy can live
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v1
+by Emile Souvestre
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+(Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+
+By EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+
+BOOK 2.
+
+
+CHAPTER VI
+
+UNCLE MAURICE
+
+June 7th, Four O'clock A.M.
+
+I am not surprised at hearing, when I awake, the birds singing so
+joyfully outside my window; it is only by living, as they and I do, in a
+top story, that one comes to know how cheerful the mornings really are up
+among the roofs.  It is there that the sun sends his first rays, and the
+breeze comes with the fragrance of the gardens and woods; there that a
+wandering butterfly sometimes ventures among the flowers of the attic,
+and that the songs of the industrious work-woman welcome the dawn of day.
+The lower stories are still deep in sleep, silence, and shadow, while
+here labor, light, and song already reign.
+
+What life is around me!  See the swallow returning from her search for
+food, with her beak full of insects for her young ones; the sparrows
+shake the dew from their wings while they chase one another in the
+sunshine; and my neighbors throw open their windows, and welcome the
+morning with their fresh faces!  Delightful hour of waking, when
+everything returns to feeling and to motion; when the first light of day
+strikes upon creation, and brings it to life again, as the magic wand
+struck the palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the wood!  It is a moment of
+rest from every misery; the sufferings of the sick are allayed, and a
+breath of hope enters into the hearts of the despairing.  But, alas!  it
+is but a short respite!  Everything will soon resume its wonted course:
+the great human machine, with its long strains, its deep gasps, its
+collisions, and its crashes, will be again put in motion.
+
+The tranquillity of this first morning hour reminds me of that of our
+first years of life.  Then, too, the sun shines brightly, the air is
+fragrant, and the illusions of youth-those birds of our life's morning-
+sing around us.  Why do they fly away when we are older?  Where do this
+sadness and this solitude, which gradually steal upon us, come from?  The
+course seems to be the same with individuals and with communities: at
+starting, so readily made happy, so easily enchanted; and at the goal,
+the bitter disappointment or reality!  The road, which began among
+hawthorns and primroses, ends speedily in deserts or in precipices!  Why
+is there so much confidence at first, so much doubt at last?  Has, then,
+the knowledge of life no other end but to make it unfit for happiness?
+Must we condemn ourselves to ignorance if we would preserve hope?  Is the
+world and is the individual man intended, after all, to find rest only in
+an eternal childhood?
+
+How many times have I asked myself these questions!  Solitude has the
+advantage or the danger of making us continually search more deeply into
+the same ideas.  As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give
+the same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it to
+the subject which occupies another mind, or interests another's feelings;
+and so an involuntary inclination makes us return forever to knock at the
+same doors!
+
+I interrupted my reflections to put my attic in order.  I hate the look
+of disorder, because it shows either a contempt for details or an
+unaptness for spiritual life.  To arrange the things among which we have
+to live, is to establish the relation of property and of use between them
+and us: it is to lay the foundation of those habits without which man
+tends to the savage state.  What, in fact, is social organization but a
+series of habits, settled in accordance with the dispositions of our
+nature?
+
+I distrust both the intellect and the morality of those people to whom
+disorder is of no consequence--who can live at ease in an Augean stable.
+What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us.  The
+mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spite of everything,
+still throw some light around.  If our tastes did not reveal our
+character, they would be no longer tastes, but instincts.
+
+While I was arranging everything in my attic, my eyes rested on the
+little almanac hanging over my chimney-piece.  I looked for the day of
+the month, and I saw these words written in large letters: "FETE DIEU!"
+
+It is to-day!  In this great city, where there are no longer any public
+religious solemnities, there is nothing to remind us of it; but it is,
+in truth, the period so happily chosen by the primitive church.  "The day
+kept in honor of the Creator," says Chateaubriand, "happens at a time
+when the heaven and the earth declare His power, when the woods and
+fields are full of new life, and all are united by the happiest ties;
+there is not a single widowed plant in the fields."
+
+What recollections these words have just awakened!  I left off what I was
+about, I leaned my elbows on the windowsill, and, with my head between my
+two hands, I went back in thought to the little town where the first days
+of my childhood were passed.
+
+The 'Fete Dieu' was then one of the great events of my life!  It was
+necessary to be diligent and obedient a long time beforehand, to deserve
+to share in it.  I still recollect with what raptures of expectation I
+got up on the morning of the day.  There was a holy joy in the air.  The
+neighbors, up earlier than usual, hung cloths with flowers or figures,
+worked in tapestry, along the streets.  I went from one to another, by
+turns admiring religious scenes of the Middle Ages, mythological
+compositions of the Renaissance, old battles in the style of Louis XIV,
+and the Arcadias of Madame de Pompadour.  All this world of phantoms
+seemed to be coming forth from the dust of past ages, to assist--silent
+and motionless--at the holy ceremony.  I looked, alternately in fear and
+wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised, those
+beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow, and
+those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the feet of
+the perpetually smiling shepherdess.  Sometimes, when the wind blew
+behind these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures
+themselves moved, and I watched to see them detach themselves from the
+wall, and take their places in the procession!  But these impressions
+were vague and transitory.  The feeling that predominated over every
+other was that of an overflowing yet quiet joy.  In the midst of all the
+floating draperies, the scattered flowers, the voices of the maidens, and
+the gladness which, like a perfume, exhaled from everything, you felt
+transported in spite of yourself.  The joyful sounds of the festival were
+repeated in your heart, in a thousand melodious echoes.  You were more
+indulgent, more holy, more loving!  For God was not only manifesting
+himself without, but also within us.
+
+And then the altars for the occasion!  the flowery arbors!  the triumphal
+arches made of green boughs!  What competition among the different
+parishes for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was
+to halt!  It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful
+of his possessions!
+
+It was there I made my first sacrifice!
+
+The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the
+Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the
+whole!  All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked.  I alone
+possessed a flower worthy of such a place.  It was on the rose-tree given
+me by my mother on my birthday.  I had watched it for several months, and
+there was no other bud to blow on the tree.  There it was, half open, in
+its mossy nest, the object of such long expectations, and of all a
+child's pride!  I hesitated for some moments.  No one had asked me for
+it; I might easily avoid losing it.  I should hear no reproaches, but one
+rose noiselessly within me.  When every one else had given all they had,
+ought I alone to keep back my treasure?  Ought I to grudge to God one of
+the gifts which, like all the rest, I had received from him?  At this
+last thought I plucked the flower from the stem, and took it to put at
+the top of the Tabernacle.  Ah! why does the recollection of this
+sacrifice, which was so hard and yet so sweet to me, now make me smile?
+Is it so certain that the value of a gift is in itself, rather than in
+the intention?  If the cup of cold water in the gospel is remembered to
+the poor man, why should not the flower be remembered to the child?  Let
+us not look down upon the child's simple act of generosity; it is these
+which accustom the soul to self-denial and to sympathy.  I cherished this
+moss-rose a long time as a sacred talisman; I had reason to cherish it
+always, as the record of the first victory won over myself.
+
+It is now many years since I witnessed the celebration of the 'Fete
+Dieu'; but should I again feel in it the happy sensations of former days?
+I still remember how, when the procession had passed, I walked through
+the streets strewed with flowers and shaded with green boughs.  I felt
+intoxicated by the lingering perfumes of the incense, mixed with the
+fragrance of syringas, jessamine, and roses, and I seemed no longer to
+touch the ground as I went along.  I smiled at everything; the whole
+world was Paradise in my eyes, and it seemed to me that God was floating
+in the air!
+
+Moreover, this feeling was not the excitement of the moment: it might be
+more intense on certain days, but at the same time it continued through
+the ordinary course of my life.  Many years thus passed for me in an
+expansion of heart, and a trustfulness which prevented sorrow, if not
+from coming, at least from staying with me.  Sure of not being alone,
+I soon took heart again, like the child who recovers its courage, because
+it hears its mother's voice close by.  Why have I lost that confidence of
+my childhood?  Shall I never feel again so deeply that God is here?
+
+How strange the association of our thoughts!  A day of the month recalls
+my infancy, and see, all the recollections of my former years are growing
+up around me!  Why was I so happy then?  I consider well, and nothing is
+sensibly changed in my condition.  I possess, as I did then, health and
+my daily bread; the only difference is, that I am now responsible for
+myself!  As a child, I accepted life when it came; another cared and
+provided for me.  So long as I fulfilled my present duties I was at peace
+within, and I left the future to the prudence of my father!  My destiny
+was a ship, in the directing of which I had no share, and in which I
+sailed as a common passenger.  There was the whole secret of childhood's
+happy security.  Since then worldly wisdom has deprived me of it.  When
+my lot was intrusted to my own and sole keeping, I thought to make myself
+master of it by means of a long insight into the future.  I have filled
+the present hour with anxieties, by occupying my thoughts with the
+future; I have put my judgment in the place of Providence, and the happy
+child is changed into the anxious man.
+
+A melancholy course, yet perhaps an important lesson.  Who knows that,
+if I had trusted more to Him who rules the world, I should not have been
+spared all this anxiety?  It may be that happiness is not possible here
+below, except on condition of living like a child, giving ourselves up to
+the duties of each day as it comes, and trusting in the goodness of our
+heavenly Father for all besides.
+
+This reminds me of my Uncle Maurice!  Whenever I have need to strengthen
+myself in all that is good, I turn my thoughts to him; I see again the
+gentle expression of his half-smiling, half-mournful face; I hear his
+voice, always soft and soothing as a breath of summer!  The remembrance
+of him protects my life, and gives it light.  He, too, was a saint and
+martyr here below.  Others have pointed out the path of heaven; he has
+taught us to see those of earth aright.
+
+But, except the angels, who are charged with noting down the sacrifices
+performed in secret, and the virtues which are never known, who has ever
+heard of my Uncle Maurice?  Perhaps I alone remember his name, and still
+recall his history.
+
+Well!  I will write it, not for others, but for myself!  They say that,
+at the sight of the Apollo, the body erects itself and assumes a more
+dignified attitude: in the same way, the soul should feel itself raised
+and ennobled by the recollection of a good man's life!
+
+A ray of the rising sun lights up the little table on which I write; the
+breeze brings me in the scent of the mignonette, and the swallows wheel
+about my window with joyful twitterings.  The image of my Uncle Maurice
+will be in its proper place amid the songs, the sunshine, and the
+fragrance.
+
+
+Seven o'clock.--It is with men's lives as with days: some dawn radiant
+with a thousand colors, others dark with gloomy clouds.  That of my Uncle
+Maurice was one of the latter.  He was so sickly, when he came into the
+world, that they thought he must die; but notwithstanding these
+anticipations, which might be called hopes, he continued to live,
+suffering and deformed.
+
+He was deprived of all joys as well as of all the attractions of
+childhood.  He was oppressed because he was weak, and laughed at for his
+deformity.  In vain the little hunchback opened his arms to the world:
+the world scoffed at him, and went its way.
+
+However, he still had his mother, and it was to her that the child
+directed all the feelings of a heart repelled by others.  With her he
+found shelter, and was happy, till he reached the age when a man must
+take his place in life; and Maurice had to content himself with that
+which others had refused with contempt.  His education would have
+qualified him for any course of life; and he became an octroi-clerk--
+[The octroi is the tax on provisions levied at the entrance of the town]
+--in one of the little toll-houses at the entrance of his native town.
+
+He was always shut up in this dwelling of a few feet square, with no
+relaxation from the office accounts but reading and his mother's visits.
+On fine summer days she came to work at the door of his hut, under the
+shade of a clematis planted by Maurice.  And, even when she was silent,
+her presence was a pleasant change for the hunchback; he heard the
+clinking of her long knitting-needles; he saw her mild and mournful
+profile, which reminded him of so many courageously-borne trials; he
+could every now and then rest his hand affectionately on that bowed neck,
+and exchange a smile with her!
+
+This comfort was soon to be taken from him.  His old mother fell sick,
+and at the end of a few days he had to give up all hope.  Maurice was
+overcome at the idea of a separation which would henceforth leave him
+alone on earth, and abandoned himself to boundless grief.  He knelt by
+the bedside of the dying woman, he called her by the fondest names, he
+pressed her in his arms, as if he could so keep her in life.  His mother
+tried to return his caresses, and to answer him; but her hands were cold,
+her voice was already gone.  She could only press her lips against the
+forehead of her son, heave a sigh, and close her eyes forever!
+
+They tried to take Maurice away, but he resisted them and threw himself
+on that now motionless form.
+
+"Dead!"  cried he; "dead!  She who had never left me, she who was the
+only one in the world who loved me!  You, my mother, dead!  What then
+remains for me here below?"
+
+A stifled voice replied:
+
+"God!"
+
+Maurice, startled, raised himself!  Was that a last sigh from the dead,
+or his own conscience, that had answered him?  He did not seek to know,
+but he understood the answer, and accepted it.
+
+It was then that I first knew him.  I often went to see him in his little
+toll-house.  He joined in my childish games, told me his finest stories,
+and let me gather his flowers.  Deprived as he was of all external
+attractiveness, he showed himself full of kindness to all who came to
+him, and, though he never would put himself forward, he had a welcome for
+everyone.  Deserted, despised, he submitted to everything with a gentle
+patience; and while he was thus stretched on the cross of life, amid the
+insults of his executioners, he repeated with Christ, "Father, forgive
+them, for they know not what they do."
+
+No other clerk showed so much honesty, zeal, and intelligence; but those
+who otherwise might have promoted him as his services deserved were
+repelled by his deformity.  As he had no patrons, he found his claims
+were always disregarded.  They preferred before him those who were better
+able to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor
+when letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live.  Uncle
+Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by men,
+he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who cannot
+be deceived.
+
+He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor
+but not as forlorn as he, also lodged.  Among these neighbors there was a
+single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came
+both wind and rain.  She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing
+to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it.  She was
+never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret.
+She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom
+seemed to envelop her like a shroud.  Her dejection affected Maurice; he
+attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words.  It was
+easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the little
+hunchback's good-will; he perceived it, and said no more.
+
+But Toinette's needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and
+presently work failed her!  Maurice learned that the poor girl was in
+want of everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit.
+He immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what
+they supplied Toinette with.
+
+Things went on in this way for several months.  The young dressmaker
+continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills she
+had contracted with the shopkeepers.  When she came to an explanation
+with them, everything was discovered.  Her first impulse was to run to
+Uncle Maurice, and thank him on her knees.  Her habitual reserve had
+given way to a burst of deepest feeling.  It seemed as if gratitude had
+melted all the ice of that numbed heart.
+
+Being now no longer embarrassed with a secret, the little hunchback could
+give greater efficacy to his good offices.  Toinette became to him a
+sister, for whose wants he had a right to provide.  It was the first time
+since the death of his mother that he had been able to share his life
+with another.  The young woman received his attentions with feeling, but
+with reserve.  All Maurice's efforts were insufficient to dispel her
+gloom: she seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her
+sense of it with warmth; but there she stopped.  Her heart was a closed
+book, which the little hunchback might bend over, but could not read.  In
+truth he cared little to do so; he gave himself up to the happiness of
+being no longer alone, and took Toinette such as her long trials had made
+her; he loved her as she was, and wished for nothing else but still to
+enjoy her company.
+
+This thought insensibly took possession of his mind, to the exclusion of
+all besides.  The poor girl was as forlorn as himself; she had become
+accustomed to the deformity of the hunchback, and she seemed to look on
+him with an affectionate sympathy!  What more could he wish for?  Until
+then, the hopes of making himself acceptable to a helpmate had been
+repelled by Maurice as a dream; but chance seemed willing to make it a
+reality.  After much hesitation he took courage, and decided to speak to
+her.
+
+It was evening; the little hunchback, in much agitation, directed his
+steps toward the work-woman's garret just as he was about to enter, he
+thought he heard a strange voice pronouncing the maiden's name.  He
+quickly pushed open the door, and perceived Toinette weeping, and leaning
+on the shoulder of a young man in the dress of a sailor.
+
+At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to him,
+crying out:
+
+"Ah! come in--come in!  It is he that I thought was dead: it is Julien;
+it is my betrothed!"
+
+Maurice tottered, and drew back.  A single word had told him all!
+
+It seemed to him as if the ground shook and his heart was about to break;
+but the same voice that he had heard by his mother's deathbed again
+sounded in his ears, and he soon recovered himself.  God was still his
+friend!
+
+He himself accompanied the newly-married pair on the road when they left
+the town, and, after wishing them all the happiness which was denied to
+him, he returned with resignation to the old house in the suburb.
+
+It was there that he ended his life, forsaken by men, but not as he said
+by the Father which is in heaven.  He felt His presence everywhere; it
+was to him in the place of all else.  When he died, it was with a smile,
+and like an exile setting out for his own country.  He who had consoled
+him in poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and
+forsaken by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him.
+
+
+Eight o'clock.--All I have just written has pained me!  Till now I have
+looked into life for instruction how to live.  Is it then true that human
+maxims are not always sufficient?  that beyond goodness, prudence,
+moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth,
+which alone can face great misfortunes?  and that, if man has need of
+virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself?
+
+When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture
+expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy,
+and beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every
+storm in spite of the gods.  But later in life, when the back is bowed,
+when happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow chill-
+then, in fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our arms, like
+the child overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who is
+everywhere.
+
+I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society
+and for the individual?  In vain does human reason from hour to hour
+light some new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever
+darker!  Is it not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther
+from God, the Sun of spirits?
+
+But what do these hermit's reveries signify to the world?  The inward
+turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give
+them time to question themselves.  Have they time to know what they are,
+and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or
+the last price of stock?  Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at
+the earth.
+
+But I--poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power nor
+riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter of my
+spirit--I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my
+childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of God
+with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my
+heart.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME
+
+Sunday, July 1st
+
+Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans ended.
+To-day we enter on July.
+
+In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth),
+because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in
+March.  When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name of
+Quintiles was preserved, as well as those that followed--Sexteles,
+September, October, November, December--although these designations did
+not accord with the newly arranged order of the months.  At last, after a
+time the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was called
+Julius, whence we have July.  Thus this name, placed in the calendar, is
+become the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaph
+on Time's highway, engraved by the admiration of man.
+
+How many similar inscriptions are there!  Seas, continents, mountains,
+stars, and monuments, have all in succession served the same purpose!  We
+have turned the whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which the
+state of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great deeds.
+It seems that mankind feels a necessity for honoring itself in its elect
+ones, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing heroes from
+among its own race.  The human family love to preserve the memory; of the
+parvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great ancestor, or of a
+benefactor.
+
+In fact, the talents granted to a single individual do not benefit
+himself alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, for
+everyone suffers or benefits by his actions.  Genius is a lighthouse,
+meant to give light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock upon
+which this lighthouse is built.
+
+I love to dwell upon these thoughts; they explain to me in what consists
+our admiration for glory.  When glory has benefited men, that admiration
+is gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride of
+race; as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples of
+humanity.
+
+Who knows whether we do not obey the same instinct in submitting to the
+hand of power?  Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, or
+the consequences of a conquest, the multitude delight to surround their
+chiefs with privileges--whether it be that their vanity makes them thus
+to aggrandize one of their own creations, or whether they try to conceal
+the humiliation of subjection by exaggerating the importance of those who
+rule them.  They wish to honor themselves through their master; they
+elevate him on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him with a
+halo of light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon themselves.
+It is still the fable of the dog who contents himself with the chain and
+collar, so that they are of gold.
+
+This servile vanity is not less natural or less common than the vanity of
+dominion.  Whoever feels himself incapable of command, at least desires
+to obey a powerful chief.  Serfs have been known to consider themselves
+dishonored when they became the property of a mere count after having
+been that of a prince, and Saint-Simon mentions a valet who would only
+wait upon marquises.
+
+
+July 7th, seven o'clock P. M.--I have just now been up the Boulevards;
+it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in the Rue
+Lepelletier.  The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossing
+recognized the persons in some of these as we went by, and mentioned
+their names; they were those of celebrated or powerful men, the
+successful ones of the day.
+
+Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes,
+whose thin black coat was threadbare.  He followed with envious looks
+these possessors of the privileges of power or of fame, and I read on his
+lips, which curled with a bitter smile, all that passed in his mind.
+
+"Look at them, the lucky fellows!"  thought he; "all the pleasures of
+wealth, all the enjoyments of pride, are theirs.  Their names are
+renowned, all their wishes fulfilled; they are the sovereigns of the
+world, either by their intellect or their power; and while I, poor and
+unknown, toil painfully along the road below, they wing their way over
+the mountain-tops gilded by the broad sunshine of prosperity."
+
+I have come home in deep thought.  Is it true that there are these
+inequalities, I do not say in the fortunes, but in the happiness of men?
+Do genius and authority really wear life as a crown, while the greater
+part of mankind receive it as a yoke?  Is the difference of rank but a
+different use of men's dispositions and talents, or a real inequality in
+their destinies?  A solemn question, as it regards the verification of
+God's impartiality.
+
+
+July 8th, noon.--I went this morning to call upon a friend from the same
+province as myself, who is the first usher-in-waiting to one of our
+ministers.  I took him some letters from his family, left for him by a
+traveller just come from Brittany.  He wished me to stay.
+
+"To-day," said he, "the Minister gives no audience: he takes a day of
+rest with his family.  His younger sisters are arrived; he will take them
+this morning to St. Cloud, and in the evening he has invited his friends
+to a private ball.  I shall be dismissed directly for the rest of the
+day.  We can dine together; read the news while you are waiting for me."
+
+I sat down at a table covered with newspapers, all of which I looked over
+by turns.  Most of them contained severe criticisms on the last political
+acts of the minister; some of them added suspicions as to the honor of
+the minister himself.
+
+Just as I had finished reading, a secretary came for them to take them to
+his master.
+
+He was then about to read these accusations, to suffer silently the abuse
+of all those tongues which were holding him up to indignation or to
+scorn!  Like the Roman victor in his triumph, he had to endure the
+insults of him who followed his car, relating to the crowd his follies,
+his ignorance, or his vices.
+
+But, among the arrows shot at him from every side, would no one be found
+poisoned?  Would not one reach some spot in his heart where the wound
+would be incurable?  What is the worth of a life exposed to the attacks
+of envious hatred or furious conviction?  The Christians yielded only the
+fragments of their flesh to the beasts of the amphitheatres; the man in
+power gives up his peace, his affections, his honor, to the cruel bites
+of the pen.
+
+While I was musing upon these dangers of greatness, the usher entered
+hastily.  Important news had been received: the minister is just summoned
+to the council; he will not be able to take his sisters to St. Cloud.
+
+I saw, through the windows, the young ladies, who were waiting at the
+door, sorrowfully go upstairs again, while their brother went off to the
+council.  The carriage, which should have gone filled with so much family
+happiness, is just out of sight, carrying only the cares of a statesman
+in it.
+
+The usher came back discontented and disappointed.  The more or less of
+liberty which he is allowed to enjoy, is his barometer of the political
+atmosphere.  If he gets leave, all goes well; if he is kept at his post,
+the country is in danger.  His opinion on public affairs is but a
+calculation of his own interest.  My friend is almost a statesman.
+
+I had some conversation with him, and he told me several curious
+particulars of public life.
+
+The new minister has old friends whose opinions he opposes, though he
+still retains his personal regard for them.  Though separated from them
+by the colors he fights under, they remain united by old associations;
+but the exigencies of party forbid him to meet them.  If their
+intercourse continued, it would awaken suspicion; people would imagine
+that some dishonorable bargain was going on; his friends would be held to
+be traitors desirous to sell themselves, and he the corrupt minister
+prepared to buy them.  He has, therefore, been obliged to break off
+friendships of twenty years' standing, and to sacrifice attachments which
+had become a second nature.
+
+Sometimes, however, the minister still gives way to his old feelings; he
+receives or visits his friends privately; he shuts himself up with them,
+and talks of the times when they could be open friends.  By dint of
+precautions they have hitherto succeeded in concealing this blot of
+friendship against policy; but sooner or later the newspapers will be
+informed of it, and will denounce him to the country as an object of
+distrust.
+
+For whether hatred be honest or dishonest, it never shrinks from any
+accusation.  Sometimes it even proceeds to crime.  The usher assured me
+that several warnings had been given the minister which had made him fear
+the vengeance of an assassin, and that he no longer ventured out on foot.
+
+Then, from one thing to another, I learned what temptations came in to
+mislead or overcome his judgment; how he found himself fatally led into
+obliquities which he could not but deplore.  Misled by passion, over-
+persuaded by entreaties, or compelled for reputation's sake, he has many
+times held the balance with an unsteady hand.  How sad the condition of
+him who is in authority!  Not only are the miseries of power imposed upon
+him, but its vices also, which, not content with torturing, succeed in
+corrupting him.
+
+We prolonged our conversation till it was interrupted by the minister's
+return.  He threw himself out of the carriage with a handful of papers,
+and with an anxious manner went into his own room.  An instant afterward
+his bell was heard; his secretary was called to send off notices to all
+those invited for the evening; the ball would not take place; they spoke
+mysteriously of bad news transmitted by the telegraph, and in such
+circumstances an entertainment would seem to insult the public sorrow.
+
+I took leave of my friend, and here I am at home.  What I have just seen
+is an answer to my doubts the other day.  Now I know with what pangs men
+pay for their dignities; now I understand
+
+          That Fortune sells what we believe she gives.
+
+This explains to me the reason why Charles V aspired to the repose of the
+cloister.
+
+And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power.
+What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated
+from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth? of that path
+of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their
+responsibility? of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses
+every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty?
+
+The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies.
+If men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep
+him separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a
+continual worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him the
+superhuman part they have granted him.  Our masters cannot remain
+absolute, except on condition of being treated as idols.
+
+But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they must
+lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to
+themselves.  Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to
+regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; "so that,"
+says Voltaire, "by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of
+Spain have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment."  It
+was by this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such an
+excess of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of Uzeda,
+who alone had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber,
+happened to be absent.
+
+When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she
+was about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette
+forbade them to touch the queen.  Two young officers endangered their
+lives for her by stopping the horse.  The prayers and tears of her whom
+they had just snatched from death were necessary to obtain pardon for
+their crime.  Every one knows the anecdote related by Madame Campan of
+Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI.  One day, being at her toilet, when
+the chemise was about to be presented to her by one of the assistants, a
+lady of very ancient family entered and claimed the honor, as she had the
+right by etiquette; but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her duty,
+a lady of higher rank appeared, and in her turn took the garment she was
+about to offer to the queen; when a third lady of still higher title came
+in her turn, and was followed by a fourth, who was no other than the
+king's sister.  The chemise was in this manner passed from hand to hand,
+with ceremonies, courtesies, and compliments, before it came to the
+queen, who, half naked and quite ashamed, was shivering with cold for the
+great honor of etiquette.
+
+
+12th, seven o'clock, P.M.--On coming home this evening, I saw, standing
+at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features
+reminded me of my father.  There was the same beautiful smile, the same
+deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the
+same careless attitude.
+
+I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to
+myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given
+me, and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn.
+
+When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by
+an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction.
+
+Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared everything
+that had the appearance of a lesson.  He used to say that virtue could
+make herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils: therefore he
+was not desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself with sowing the
+seeds of it, certain that experience would make them grow.
+
+How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and,
+when it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and come
+into ear!  It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and we do
+not know its value till we find ourselves in need of it.
+
+Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings,
+there is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time
+is come to derive its lesson from it.
+
+My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those
+trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all
+creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led a
+life of poverty and labor.  Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns
+shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work of a
+trade of which his master reaped all the profits.  In truth, this latter
+had a peculiar talent for making the most of the labor of other people.
+Though unfit himself for the execution of any kind of work, no one knew
+better how to sell it.  His words were a net, in which people found
+themselves taken before they were aware.  And since he was devoted to
+himself alone, and looked on the producer as his enemy, and the buyer as
+prey, he used them both with that obstinate perseverance which avarice
+teaches.
+
+My father was a slave all the week, and could call himself his own only
+on Sunday.  The master naturalist, who used to spend the day at the house
+of an old female relative, then gave him his liberty on condition that he
+dined out, and at his own expense.  But my father used secretly to take
+with him a crust of bread, which he hid in his botanizing-box, and,
+leaving Paris as soon as it was day, he would wander far into the valley
+of Montmorency, the wood of Meudon, or among the windings of the Marne.
+Excited by the fresh air, the penetrating perfume of the growing
+vegetation, or the fragrance of the honeysuckles, he would walk on until
+hunger or fatigue made itself felt.  Then he would sit under a hedge, or
+by the side of a stream, and would make a rustic feast, by turns on
+watercresses, wood strawberries, and blackberries picked from the hedges;
+he would gather a few plants, read a few pages of Florian, then in
+greatest vogue, of Gessner, who was just translated, or of Jean Jacques,
+of whom he possessed three old volumes.  The day was thus passed
+alternately in activity and rest, in pursuit and meditation, until the
+declining sun warned him to take again the road to Paris, where he would
+arrive, his feet torn and dusty, but his mind invigorated for a whole
+week.
+
+One day, as he was going toward the wood of Viroflay, he met, close to
+it, a stranger who was occupied in botanizing and in sorting the plants
+he had just gathered.  He was an elderly man with an honest face; but his
+eyes, which were rather deep-set under his eyebrows, had a somewhat
+uneasy and timid expression.  He was dressed in a brown cloth coat, a
+gray waistcoat, black breeches, and worsted stockings, and held an ivory-
+headed cane under his arm.  His appearance was that of a small retired
+tradesman who was living on his means, and rather below the golden mean
+of Horace.
+
+My father, who had great respect for age, civilly raised his hat to him
+as he passed.  In doing so, a plant he held fell from his hand; the
+stranger stooped to take it up, and recognized it.
+
+"It is a Deutaria heptaphyllos," said he; "I have not yet seen any of
+them in these woods; did you find it near here, sir?"
+
+My father replied that it was to be found in abundance on the top of the
+hill, toward Sevres, as well as the great Laserpitium.
+
+"That, too!"  repeated the old man more briskly.  "Ah!  I shall go and
+look for them; I have gathered them formerly on the hillside of Robaila."
+
+My father proposed to take him.  The stranger accepted his proposal with
+thanks, and hastened to collect together the plants he had gathered; but
+all of a sudden he appeared seized with a scruple.  He observed to his
+companion that the road he was going was halfway up the hill, and led in
+the direction of the castle of the Dames Royales at Bellevue; that by
+going to the top he would consequently turn out of his road, and that it
+was not right he should take this trouble for a stranger.
+
+My father insisted upon it with his habitual good-nature; but, the more
+eagerness he showed, the more obstinately the old man refused; it even
+seemed to my father that his good intention at last excited his
+suspicion.  He therefore contented himself with pointing out the road to
+the stranger, whom he saluted, and he soon lost sight of him.
+
+Many hours passed by, and he thought no more of the meeting.  He had
+reached the copses of Chaville, where, stretched on the ground in a mossy
+glade, he read once more the last volume of Emile.  The delight of
+reading it had so completely absorbed him that he had ceased to see or
+hear anything around him.  With his cheeks flushed and his eyes moist,
+he repeated aloud a passage which had particularly affected him.
+
+An exclamation uttered close by him awoke him from his ecstasy; he raised
+his head, and perceived the tradesman-looking person he had met before on
+the crossroad at Viroflay.
+
+He was loaded with plants, the collection of which seemed to have put him
+into high good-humor.
+
+"A thousand thanks, sir," said he to my father.  "I have found all that
+you told me of, and I am indebted to you for a charming walk."
+
+My father respectfully rose, and made a civil reply.  The stranger had
+grown quite familiar, and even asked if his young "brother botanist" did
+not think of returning to Paris.  My father replied in the affirmative,
+and opened his tin box to put his book back in it.
+
+The stranger asked him with a smile if he might without impertinence ask
+the name of it.  My father answered that it was Rousseau's Emile.
+
+The stranger immediately became grave.
+
+They walked for some time side by side, my father expressing, with the
+warmth of a heart still throbbing with emotion, all that this work had
+made him feel; his companion remaining cold and silent.  The former
+extolled the glory of the great Genevese writer, whose genius had made
+him a citizen of the world; he expatiated on this privilege of great
+thinkers, who reign in spite of time and space, and gather together a
+people of willing subjects out of all nations; but the stranger suddenly
+interrupted him:
+
+"And how do you know," said he, mildly, "whether Jean Jacques would not
+exchange the reputation which you seem to envy for the life of one of the
+wood-cutters whose chimneys' smoke we see?  What has fame brought him
+except persecution?  The unknown friends whom his books may have made for
+him content themselves with blessing him in their hearts, while the
+declared enemies that they have drawn upon him pursue him with violence
+and calumny!  His pride has been flattered by success: how many times has
+it been wounded by satire?  And be assured that human pride is like the
+Sybarite who was prevented from sleeping by a crease in a roseleaf.  The
+activity of a vigorous mind, by which the world profits, almost always
+turns against him who possesses it.  He expects more from it as he grows
+older; the ideal he pursues continually disgusts him with the actual; he
+is like a man who, with a too-refined sight, discerns spots and blemishes
+in the most beautiful face.  I will not speak of stronger temptations and
+of deeper downfalls.  Genius, you have said, is a kingdom; but what
+virtuous man is not afraid of being a king?  He who feels only his great
+powers, is--with the weaknesses and passions of our nature--preparing for
+great failures.  Believe me, sir, the unhappy man who wrote this book is
+no object of admiration or of envy; but, if you have a feeling heart,
+pity him!"
+
+My father, astonished at the excitement with which his companion
+pronounced these last words, did not know what to answer.
+
+Just then they reached the paved road which led from Meudon Castle to
+that of Versailles; a carriage was passing.
+
+The ladies who were in it perceived the old man, uttered an exclamation
+of surprise, and leaning out of the window repeated:
+
+"There is Jean Jacques--there is Rousseau!"
+
+Then the carriage disappeared in the distance.
+
+My father remained motionless, confounded, and amazed, his eyes wide
+open, and his hands clasped.
+
+Rousseau, who had shuddered on hearing his name spoken, turned toward
+him:
+
+"You see," said he, with the bitter misanthropy which his later
+misfortunes had produced in him, "Jean Jacques cannot even hide himself:
+he is an object of curiosity to some, of malignity to others, and to all
+he is a public thing, at which they point the finger.  It would signify
+less if he had only to submit to the impertinence of the idle; but, as
+soon as a man has had the misfortune to make himself a name, he becomes
+public property.  Every one rakes into his life, relates his most trivial
+actions, and insults his feelings; he becomes like those walls, which
+every passer-by may deface with some abusive writing.  Perhaps you will
+say that I have myself encouraged this curiosity by publishing my
+Confessions.  But the world forced me to it.  They looked into my house
+through the blinds, and they slandered me; I have opened the doors and
+windows, so that they should at least know me such as I am.  Adieu, sir.
+Whenever you wish to know the worth of fame, remember that you have seen
+Rousseau."
+
+
+Nine o'clock.--Ah! now I understand my father's story!  It contains the
+answer to one of the questions I asked myself a week ago.  Yes, I now
+feel that fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought; and that, when
+they dazzle the soul, both are oftenest, as Madame de Stael says, but 'un
+deuil eclatant de bonheur!
+
+                   'Tis better to be lowly born,
+                    And range with humble livers in content,
+                    Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief,
+                    And wear a golden sorrow.
+
+                    [Henry VIII., Act II., Scene 3.]
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VIII
+
+MISANTHROPY AND REPENTANCE
+
+August 3d, Nine O'clock P.M.
+
+There are days when everything appears gloomy to us; the world, like the
+sky, is covered by a dark fog.  Nothing seems in its place; we see only
+misery, improvidence, and cruelty; the world seems without God, and given
+up to all the evils of chance.
+
+Yesterday I was in this unhappy humor.  After a long walk in the
+faubourgs, I returned home, sad and dispirited.
+
+Everything I had seen seemed to accuse the civilization of which we are
+so proud!  I had wandered into a little by-street, with which I was not
+acquainted, and I found myself suddenly in the middle of those dreadful
+abodes where the poor are born, to languish and die.  I looked at those
+decaying walls, which time has covered with a foul leprosy; those
+windows, from which dirty rags hang out to dry; those fetid gutters,
+which coil along the fronts of the houses like venomous reptiles!
+I felt oppressed with grief, and hastened on.
+
+A little farther on I was stopped by the hearse of a hospital; a dead
+man, nailed down in his deal coffin, was going to his last abode, without
+funeral pomp or ceremony, and without followers.  There was not here even
+that last friend of the outcast--the dog, which a painter has introduced
+as the sole attendant at the pauper's burial!  He whom they were
+preparing to commit to the earth was going to the tomb, as he had lived,
+alone; doubtless no one would be aware of his end.  In this battle of
+society, what signifies a soldier the less?
+
+But what, then, is this human society, if one of its members can thus
+disappear like a leaf carried away by the wind?
+
+The hospital was near a barrack, at the entrance of which old men, women,
+and children were quarrelling for the remains of the coarse bread which
+the soldiers had given them in charity!  Thus, beings like ourselves
+daily wait in destitution on our compassion till we give them leave to
+live!  Whole troops of outcasts, in addition to the trials imposed on all
+God's children, have to endure the pangs of cold, hunger, and
+humiliation.  Unhappy human commonwealth!  Where man is in a worse
+condition than the bee in its hive, or the ant in its subterranean city!
+
+Ah! what then avails our reason?  What is the use of so many high
+faculties, if we are neither the wiser nor the happier for them?  Which
+of us would not exchange his life of labor and trouble with that of the
+birds of the air, to whom the whole world is a life of joy?
+
+How well I understand the complaint of Mao, in the popular tales of the
+'Foyer Breton' who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks at
+the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees:
+
+"Alas! those birds are happier than Christians; they have no need of
+inns, or butchers, or bakers, or gardeners.  God's heaven belongs to
+them, and earth spreads a continual feast before them!  The tiny flies
+are their game, ripe grass their cornfields, and hips and haws their
+store of fruit.  They have the right of taking everywhere, without paying
+or asking leave: thus comes it that the little birds are happy, and sing
+all the livelong day!"
+
+But the life of man in a natural state is like that of the birds; he
+equally enjoys nature.  "The earth spreads a continual feast before him."
+What, then, has he gained by that selfish and imperfect association which
+forms a nation?  Would it not be better for every one to turn again to
+the fertile bosom of nature, and live there upon her bounty in peace and
+liberty?
+
+
+August 20th, four o'clock A.M.--The dawn casts a red glow on my bed-
+curtains; the breeze brings in the fragrance of the gardens below.  Here
+I am again leaning on my elbows by the windows, inhaling the freshness
+and gladness of this first wakening of the day.
+
+My eye always passes over the roofs filled with flowers, warbling, and
+sunlight, with the same pleasure; but to-day it stops at the end of a
+buttress which separates our house from the next.
+
+The storms have stripped the top of its plaster covering, and dust
+carried by the wind has collected in the crevices, and, being fixed there
+by the rain, has formed a sort of aerial terrace, where some green grass
+has sprung up.  Among it rises a stalk of wheat, which to-day is
+surmounted by a sickly ear that droops its yellow head.
+
+This poor stray crop on the roofs, the harvest of which will fall to the
+neighboring sparrows, has carried my thoughts to the rich crops which are
+now falling beneath the sickle; it has recalled to me the beautiful walks
+I took as a child through my native province, when the threshing-floors
+at the farmhouses resounded from every part with the sound of a flail,
+and when the carts, loaded with golden sheaves, came in by all the roads.
+I still remember the songs of the maidens, the cheerfulness of the old
+men, the open-hearted merriment of the laborers.  There was, at that
+time, something in their looks both of pride and feeling.  The latter
+came from thankfulness to God, the former from the sight of the harvest,
+the reward of their labor.  They felt indistinctly the grandeur and the
+holiness of their part in the general work of the world; they looked with
+pride upon their mountains of corn-sheaves, and they seemed to say, Next
+to God, it is we who feed the world!
+
+What a wonderful order there is in all human labor!
+
+While the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for every one his
+daily bread, the town artizan, far away, weaves the stuff in which he is
+to be clothed; the miner seeks underground the iron for his plow; the
+soldier defends him against the invader; the judge takes care that the
+law protects his fields; the tax-comptroller adjusts his private
+interests with those of the public; the merchant occupies himself in
+exchanging his products with those of distant countries; the men of
+science and of art add every day a few horses to this ideal team, which
+draws along the material world, as steam impels the gigantic trains of
+our iron roads!  Thus all unite together, all help one another; the toil
+of each one benefits himself and all the world; the work has been
+apportioned among the different members of the whole of society by a
+tacit agreement.  If, in this apportionment, errors are committed, if
+certain individuals have not been employed according to their capacities,
+those defects of detail diminish in the sublime conception of the whole.
+The poorest man included in this association has his place, his work, his
+reason for being there; each is something in the whole.
+
+There is nothing like this for man in the state of nature.  As he depends
+only upon himself, it is necessary that he be sufficient for everything.
+All creation is his property; but he finds in it as many hindrances as
+helps.  He must surmount these obstacles with the single strength that
+God has given him; he cannot reckon on any other aid than chance and
+opportunity.  No one reaps, manufactures, fights, or thinks for him; he
+is nothing to any one.  He is a unit multiplied by the cipher of his own
+single powers; while the civilized man is a unit multiplied by the whole
+of society.
+
+But, notwithstanding this, the other day, disgusted by the sight of some
+vices in detail, I cursed the latter, and almost envied the life of the
+savage.
+
+One of the infirmities of our nature is always to mistake feeling for
+evidence, and to judge of the season by a cloud or a ray of sunshine.
+
+Was the misery, the sight of which made me regret a savage life, really
+the effect of civilization?  Must we accuse society of having created
+these evils, or acknowledge, on the contrary, that it has alleviated
+them?  Could the women and children, who were receiving the coarse bread
+from the soldier, hope in the desert for more help or pity?  That dead
+man, whose forsaken state I deplored, had he not found, by the cares of a
+hospital, a coffin and the humble grave where he was about to rest?
+Alone, and far from men, he would have died like the wild beast in his
+den, and would now be serving as food for vultures!  These benefits of
+human society are shared, then, by the most destitute.  Whoever eats the
+bread that another has reaped and kneaded, is under an obligation to his
+brother, and cannot say he owes him nothing in return.  The poorest of us
+has received from society much more than his own single strength would
+have permitted him to wrest from nature.
+
+But cannot society give us more?  Who doubts it?  Errors have been
+committed in this distribution of tasks and workers.  Time will diminish
+the number of them; with new lights a better division will arise; the
+elements of society go on toward perfection, like everything else.  The
+difficulty is to know how to adapt ourselves to the slow step of time,
+whose progress can never be forced on without danger.
+
+
+August 14th, six o'clock A.M.--My garret window rises upon the roof like
+a massive watch-tower.  The corners are covered by large sheets of lead,
+which run into the tiles; the successive action of cold and heat has made
+them rise, and so a crevice has been formed in an angle on the right
+side.  There a sparrow has built her nest.
+
+I have followed the progress of this aerial habitation from the first
+day.  I have seen the bird successively bring the straw, moss, and wool
+designed for the construction of her abode; and I have admired the
+persevering skill she expended in this difficult work.  At first, my new
+neighbor spent her days in fluttering over the poplar in the garden, and
+in chirping along the gutters; a fine lady's life seemed the only one to
+suit her.  Then all of a sudden, the necessity of preparing a shelter for
+her brood transformed our idler into a worker; she no longer gave herself
+either rest or relaxation.  I saw her always either flying, fetching, or
+carrying; neither rain nor sun stopped her.  A striking example of the
+power of necessity!  We are indebted to it not only for most of our
+talents, but for many of our virtues!
+
+Is it not necessity that has given the people of less favored climates
+that constant activity which has placed them so quickly at the head of
+nations?  As they are deprived of most of the gifts of nature, they have
+supplied them by their industry; necessity has sharpened their
+understanding, endurance awakened their foresight.  While elsewhere man,
+warmed by an ever brilliant sun, and loaded with the bounties of the
+earth, was remaining poor, ignorant, and naked, in the midst of gifts he
+did not attempt to explore, here he was forced by necessity to wrest his
+food from the ground, to build habitations to defend himself from the
+intemperance of the weather, and to warm his body by clothing himself
+with the wool of animals.  Work makes him both more intelligent and more
+robust: disciplined by it, he seems to mount higher on the ladder of
+creation, while those more favored by nature remain on the step nearest
+to the brutes.
+
+I made these reflections while looking at the bird, whose instinct seemed
+to have become more acute since she had been occupied in work.  At last
+the nest was finished; she set up her household there, and I followed her
+through all the phases of her new existence.
+
+When she had sat on the eggs, and the young ones were hatched, she fed
+them with the most attentive care.  The corner of my window had become a
+stage of moral action, which fathers and mothers might come to take
+lessons from.  The little ones soon became large, and this morning I have
+seen them take their first flight.  One of them, weaker than the others,
+was not able to clear the edge of the roof, and fell into the gutter.  I
+caught him with some difficulty, and placed him again on the tile in
+front of his house, but the mother has not noticed him.  Once freed from
+the cares of a family, she has resumed her wandering life among the trees
+and along the roofs.  In vain I have kept away from my window, to take
+from her every excuse for fear; in vain the feeble little bird has called
+to her with plaintive cries; his bad mother has passed by, singing and
+fluttering with a thousand airs and graces.  Once only the father came
+near; he looked at his offspring with contempt, and then disappeared,
+never to return!
+
+I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how
+to peck it with his bill.  I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the
+forsaken nest.  What will become of him there, if his mother does not
+come back!
+
+
+August 15th, six o'clock.--This morning, on opening my window, I found
+the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he had
+been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother.  I tried in vain to
+warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his
+eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down!  I placed him on the
+roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window.  The struggle of life
+against death has always something gloomy in it: it is a warning to us.
+
+Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old
+neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts.
+
+It was my portress.  Excellent woman!  She wished me to read a letter
+from her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her.
+
+I kept it, to copy it in my journal.  Here it is:
+
+     "DEAR MOTHER: This is to tell you that I have been very well ever
+     since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with
+     the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a
+     better craft anywhere.
+
+     "A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I
+     saw the captain sinking.  I went after him, as was my duty, and,
+     after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which
+     pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had
+     recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would
+     have done to an officer.
+
+     "I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me.
+     But it isn't all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded
+     them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I
+     am promoted to be a sailor of the first class!  Directly I knew it,
+     I cried out, 'My mother shall have coffee twice a day!'  And really,
+     dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have
+     a larger allowance to send you.
+
+     "I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do
+     me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want
+     for nothing.
+
+     "Your son, from the bottom of my heart,
+
+                                                  JACQUES."
+
+
+This is the answer that the portress dictated to me:
+
+     "MY GOOD JACQUOT: It makes me very happy to see that your heart is
+     still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have
+     brought you up.  I need not tell you to take care of your life,
+     because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you,
+     dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not
+     bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty.
+
+     "Do not fear for my health, good Jacques; I was never better!  I do
+     not grow old at all, for fear of making you unhappy.  I want
+     nothing, and I live like a lady.  I even had some money over this
+     year, and as my drawers shut very badly, I put it into the savings'
+     bank, where I have opened an account in your name.  So, when you
+     come back, you will find yourself with an income.  I have also
+     furnished your chest with new linen, and I have knitted you three
+     new sea-jackets.
+
+     "All your friends are well.  Your cousin is just dead, leaving his
+     widow in difficulties.  I gave her your thirty francs' remittance
+     and said that you had sent it her; and the poor woman remembers you
+     day and night in her prayers.  So, you see, I have put that money in
+     another sort of savings' bank; but there it is our hearts that get
+     the interest.
+
+     "Good-bye, dear Jacquot.  Write to me often, and always remember the
+     good God, and your old mother,
+
+                                        "PHROSINE MILLOT."
+
+
+Good son, and worthy mother!  how such examples bring us back to a love
+for the human race!  In a fit of fanciful misanthropy, we may envy the
+fate of the savage, and prefer that of the bird to such as he; but
+impartial observation soon does justice to such paradoxes.  We find, on
+examination, that in the mixed good and evil of human nature, the good so
+far abounds that we are not in the habit of noticing it, while the evil
+strikes us precisely on account of its being the exception.  If nothing
+is perfect, nothing is so bad as to be without its compensation or its
+remedy.  What spiritual riches are there in the midst of the evils of
+society!  how much does the moral world redeem the material!
+
+That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his
+power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice.  The mother
+who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to them the
+necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the preservation
+of her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a rational choice.  When
+she had accomplished the mission appointed her by Providence, she cast
+off the duty as we get rid of a burden, and she returned again to her
+selfish liberty.  The other mother, on the contrary, will go on with her
+task as long as God shall leave her here below: the life of her son will
+still remain, so to speak, joined to her own; and when she disappears
+from the earth, she will leave there that part of herself.
+
+Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from all
+the rest of creation.  Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial
+immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone
+perpetuates himself.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT
+
+September 15th, Eight O'clock
+
+This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in,
+and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday.  For the
+nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in
+her little fruit-shop.  Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but
+Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm,
+and cause her unnecessary pain.  It seems to me that the length of our
+acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my
+patronage has become her property.
+
+She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is a
+joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs again
+immediately to send him to me.
+
+At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice:
+but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial as
+usual.  Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything?
+
+Poor woman!  All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that
+she might think she had received her full share already.  Were I to live
+a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her
+known to me, and which obtained for her my respect.
+
+It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg.  I had noticed
+her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by its
+forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it.  I have always
+instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them, but
+it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother in
+poverty.  These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to
+those whose very existence is in peril--the only means by which some
+orphan gains a livelihood.  There the aim of the tradesman is not to
+enrich himself, but to live!  The purchase you make of him is more than
+an exchange--it is a good action.
+
+Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that
+fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among the
+poor.  Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to
+become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a
+worshipper of Saint Monday.  The wages of the week, which was always
+reduced to two or three working days, were completely dedicated by him to
+the worship of this god of the Barriers,--[The cheap wine shops are
+outside the Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]--and
+Genevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the
+household.
+
+One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I heard
+a sound of quarrelling in the back shop.  There were the voices of
+several women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by
+sobs.  On looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a child
+in her arms, and kissing it, while a country nurse seemed to be claiming
+her wages from her.  The poor woman, who without doubt had exhausted
+every explanation and every excuse, was crying in silence, and one of her
+neighbors was trying in vain to appease the countrywoman.  Excited by
+that love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too well
+excuse, and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nurse
+was launching forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse.  In spite of
+myself, I listened to the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and not
+thinking of going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door.
+
+The joiner had just come from the Barriers, where he had passed part of
+the day at a public-house.  His blouse, without a belt, and untied at the
+throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in his hand he held his
+cap, which he had just picked up out of the mud; his hair was in
+disorder, his eye fixed, and the pallor of drunkenness in his face.  He
+came reeling in, looked wildly around him, and called Genevieve.
+
+She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the
+sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself, she
+pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with tears.
+
+The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her.
+
+"Come! come!"  cried the former in a rage, "do you intend to pay me,
+after all?"
+
+"Ask the master for the money," ironically answered the woman from the
+next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the
+counter.
+
+The countrywoman looked at him.
+
+"Ah!  he is the father," returned she.  "Well, what idle beggars! not to
+have a penny to pay honest people; and get tipsy with wine in that way."
+
+The drunkard raised his head.
+
+"What! what!"  stammered he; "who is it that talks of wine?  I've had
+nothing but brandy!  But I am going back again to get some wine!  Wife,
+give me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the 'Pere
+la Tuille'."
+
+Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till, and
+began to rummage in it.
+
+"You see where the money of the house goes!"  observed the neighbor to
+the countrywoman; "how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes
+all?"
+
+"Is that my fault?"  replied the nurse, angrily.  "They owe to me, and
+somehow or other they must pay me!"
+
+And letting loose her tongue, as these women out of the country do, she
+began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child, and all
+the expense it had been to her.  In proportion as she recalled all she
+had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her rights,
+and to increase her anger.  The poor mother, who no doubt feared that her
+violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop, and put
+it into its cradle.
+
+Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to
+escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but
+she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarrelling,
+with which the cries of the child were soon mingled.  The joiner, who was
+still rummaging in the till, was startled, and raised his head.
+
+At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms
+the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her.  She ran
+toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband, cried:
+
+"Michael, defend your son!"
+
+The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a start.
+
+"My son!"  stammered he; "what son?"
+
+His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over
+his features.
+
+"Robert," resumed he; "it is Robert!"
+
+He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but
+he tottered.  The nurse approached him in a rage.
+
+"My money, or I shall take the child away!"  cried she.  "It is I who
+have fed and brought it up: if you don't pay me for what has made it
+live, it ought to be the same to you as if it were dead.  I shall not go
+until I have my due, or the baby."
+
+"And what would you do with him?"  murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert
+against her bosom.
+
+"Take it to the Foundling!"  replied the countrywoman, harshly; "the
+hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of its
+little ones."
+
+At the word "Foundling," Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror.  With
+her arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her
+two hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained
+with her back against it, like a lioness defending her young.  The
+neighbor and I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could
+interfere.  As for Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible
+effort to comprehend it all.  When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the
+child, it lit up with a gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us,
+he again became stupid and hesitating.
+
+At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, "Wait!"
+
+And going to a tub filled with water, he plunged his face into it several
+times.
+
+Every eye was turned upon him; the countrywoman herself seemed
+astonished.  At length he raised his dripping head.  This ablution had
+partly dispelled his drunkenness; he looked at us for a moment, then he
+turned to Genevieve, and his face brightened up.
+
+"Robert!"  cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms.
+"Ah!  give him me, wife; I must look at him."
+
+The mother seemed to give up his son to him with reluctance, and stayed
+before him with her arms extended, as if she feared the child would have
+a fall.  The nurse began again in her turn to speak, and renewed her
+claims, this time threatening to appeal to law.  At first Michael
+listened to her attentively, and when he comprehended her meaning, he
+gave the child back to its mother.
+
+"How much do we owe you?"  asked he.
+
+The countrywoman began to reckon up the different expenses, which
+amounted to nearly thirty francs.  The joiner felt to the bottom of his
+pockets, but could find nothing.  His forehead became contracted by
+frowns; low curses began to escape him.  All of a sudden he rummaged in
+his breast, drew forth a large watch, and holding it up above his head:
+
+"Here it is--here's your money!" cried he with a joyful laugh; "a watch,
+a good one!  I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry day; but it
+is not I who will drink it, but the young one.  Ah! ah! ah! go and sell
+it for me, neighbor, and if that is not enough, I have my earrings.  Eh!
+Genevieve, take them off for me; the earrings will square all!  They
+shall not say you have been disgraced on account of the child--no, not
+even if I must pledge a bit of my flesh!  My watch, my earrings, and my
+ring--get rid of all of them for me at the goldsmith's; pay the woman,
+and let the little fool go to sleep.  Give him me, Genevieve; I will put
+him to bed."
+
+And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him with a
+firm step to his cradle.
+
+It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from this
+day.  He cut all his old drinking acquaintances.  He went early every
+morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the
+day with Genevieve and Robert.  Very soon he would not leave them at all,
+and he hired a place near the fruit-shop, and worked in it on his own
+account.
+
+They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been for
+the expenses which the child required.  Everything was given up to his
+education.  He had gone through the regular school training, had studied
+mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter's trade, and had only begun to
+work a few months ago.  Till now, they had been exhausting every resource
+which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his
+business; and, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the
+seed had brought forth fruit, and the days of harvest were close by.
+
+While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had
+come in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted.
+
+During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also
+scrutinizing the joiner.
+
+The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply marked
+his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stoop, his legs are
+shrunken and slightly bent.  There seems a sort of weight in his whole
+being.  His very features have an expression of sorrow and despondency.
+He answers my questions by monosyllables, and like a man who wishes to
+avoid conversation.  Whence comes this dejection, when one would think he
+had all he could wish for?  I should like to know!
+
+
+Ten o'clock.--Michael is just gone downstairs to look for a tool he has
+forgotten.  I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of
+his and Genevieve's sorrow.  Their son Robert is the cause of it!
+
+Not that he has turned out ill after all their care--not that he is idle
+or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any more.
+The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad their
+lives once more; his mother counted the days, his father prepared
+everything to receive their dear associate in their toils; and at the
+moment when they were thus about to be repaid for all their sacrifices,
+Robert had suddenly informed them that he had just engaged himself to a
+contractor at Versailles.
+
+Every remonstrance and every prayer were useless; he brought forward the
+necessity of initiating himself into all the details of an important
+contract, the facilities he should have in his new position of improving
+himself in his trade, and the hopes he had of turning his knowledge to
+advantage.  At, last, when his mother, having come to the end of her
+arguments, began to cry, he hastily kissed her, and went away that he
+might avoid any further remonstrances.
+
+He had been absent a year, and there was nothing to give them hopes of
+his return.  His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only
+stayed a few moments with them.
+
+"I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded," Michael said to
+me just now.  "I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has
+given me an ambitious and avaricious one!  I had always said to myself
+that when once he was grown up we should have him always with us, to
+recall our youth and to enliven our hearts.  His mother was always
+thinking of getting him married, and having children again to care for.
+You know women always will busy themselves about others.  As for me, I
+thought of him working near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he
+has learnt music, and is one of the best singers at the Orpheon.
+
+A dream, sir, truly!  Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight,
+and remembers neither father nor mother.  Yesterday, for instance, was
+the day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us.  No
+Robert to-day, either!  He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain
+to arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after
+the customers and the joiner's work.  Ah! if I could have guessed how it
+would have turned out!  Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money,
+for nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son!  Was it for
+this I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with my
+friends, to become an example to the neighborhood?  The jovial good
+fellow has made a goose of himself.  Oh! if I had to begin again!  No,
+no!  you see women and children are our bane.  They soften our hearts;
+they lead us a life of hope and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives
+in fostering the growth of a grain of corn which is to be everything to
+us in our old age, and when the harvest-time comes--good-night, the ear
+is empty!"
+
+While he was speaking, Michael's voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce,
+and his lips quivered.  I wished to answer him, but I could only think of
+commonplace consolations, and I remained silent.  The joiner pretended he
+needed a tool, and left me.
+
+Poor father!  Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has
+failed to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her!  Who has not felt
+this weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once,
+the mournful exclamation of Brutus?
+
+But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true
+and real?  No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain!  It does not
+always give the happiness we had hoped for, but it brings some other.
+In the world everything is ruled by order, and has its proper and
+necessary consequences, and virtue cannot be the sole exception to the
+general law.  If it had been prejudicial to those who practised it,
+experience would have avenged them; but experience has, on the contrary,
+made it more universal and more holy.  We only accuse it of being a
+faithless debtor because we demand an immediate payment, and one apparent
+to our senses.  We always consider life as a fairytale, in which every
+good action must be rewarded by a visible wonder.  We do not accept as
+payment a peaceful conscience, self-content, or a good name among men--
+treasures that are more precious than any other, but the value of which
+we do not feel till after we have lost them!
+
+Michael is come back, and has returned to his work.  His son has not yet
+arrived.
+
+By telling me of his hopes and his grievous disappointments, he became
+excited; he unceasingly went over again the same subject, always adding
+something to his griefs.  He had just wound up his confidential discourse
+by speaking to me of a joiner's business which he had hoped to buy, and
+work to good account with Robert's help.  The present owner had made a
+fortune by it, and, after thirty years of business, he was thinking of
+retiring to one of the ornamental cottages in the outskirts of the city,
+a usual retreat for the frugal and successful workingman.  Michael had
+not indeed the two thousand francs which must be paid down; but perhaps
+he could have persuaded Master Benoit to wait.  Robert's presence would
+have been a security for him, for the young man could not fail to insure
+the prosperity of a workshop; besides science and skill, he had the power
+of invention and bringing to perfection.  His father had discovered among
+his drawings a new plan for a staircase, which had occupied his thoughts
+for a long time; and he even suspected him of having engaged himself to
+the Versailles contractor for the very purpose of executing it.  The
+youth was tormented by this spirit of invention, which took possession of
+all his thoughts, and, while devoting his mind to study, he had no time
+to listen to his feelings.
+
+Michael told me all this with a mixed feeling of pride and vexation.  I
+saw he was proud of the son he was abusing, and that his very pride made
+him more sensitive to that son's neglect.
+
+
+Six o'clock P.M.--I have just finished a happy day.  How many events have
+happened within a few hours, and what a change for Genevieve and Michael!
+
+He had just finished fixing the shelves, and telling me of his son, while
+I laid the cloth for my breakfast.
+
+Suddenly we heard hurried steps in the passage, the door opened, and
+Genevieve entered with Robert.
+
+The joiner gave a start of joyful surprise, but he repressed it
+immediately, as if he wished to keep up the appearance of displeasure.
+
+The young man did not appear to notice it, but threw himself into his
+arms in an open-hearted manner, which surprised me.  Genevieve, whose
+face shone with happiness, seemed to wish to speak, and to restrain
+herself with difficulty.
+
+I told Robert I was glad to see him, and he answered me with ease and
+civility.
+
+"I expected you yesterday," said Michael Arout, rather dryly.
+
+"Forgive me, father," replied the young workman, "but I had business at
+St.  Germain's.  I was not able to come back till it was very late, and
+then the master kept me."
+
+The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer again.
+
+"All right," muttered he, in a grumbling tone; "when we are with other
+people we must do as they wish; but there are some who would like better
+to eat brown bread with their own knife than partridges with the silver
+fork of a master."
+
+"And I am one of those, father," replied Robert, merrily, "but, as the
+proverb says, "you must shell the peas before you can eat them."  It was
+necessary that I should first work in a great workshop--"
+
+"To go on with your plan of the staircase," interrupted Michael,
+ironically.
+
+"You must now say Monsieur Raymond's plan, father," replied Robert,
+smiling.
+
+"Why?"
+
+"Because I have sold it to him."
+
+The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly.
+
+"Sold it!"  cried he, with sparkling eyes.
+
+"For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him."
+
+Michael threw down the board and tool.
+
+"There he is again!"  resumed he, angrily; "his good genius puts an idea
+into his head which would have made him known, and he goes and sells it
+to a rich man, who will take the honor of it himself."
+
+"Well, what harm is there done?"  asked Genevieve.
+
+"What harm!"  cried the joiner, in a passion.  "You understand nothing
+about it--you are a woman; but he--he knows well that a true workman
+never gives up his own inventions for money, no more than a soldier would
+give up his cross.  That is his glory; he is bound to keep it for the
+honor it does him!  Ah, thunder!  if I had ever made a discovery, rather
+than put it up at auction I would have sold one of my eyes!  Don't you
+see that a new invention is like a child to a workman?  He takes care of
+it, he brings it up, he makes a way for it in the world, and it is only a
+poor creature who sells it."
+
+Robert colored a little.
+
+"You will think differently, father," said he, "when you know why I sold
+my plan."
+
+"Yes, and you will thank him for it," added Genevieve, who could no
+longer keep silence.
+
+"Never !"  replied Michael.
+
+"But, wretched man!"  cried she, "he sold it only for our sakes!"
+
+The joiner looked at his wife and son with astonishment.  It was
+necessary to come to an explanation.  The latter related how he had
+entered into a negotiation with Master Benoit, who had positively refused
+to sell his business unless one half of the two thousand francs were
+first paid down.  It was in the hopes of obtaining this sum that he had
+gone to work with the contractor at Versailles; he had had an opportunity
+of trying his invention, and of finding a purchaser.  Thanks to the money
+he received for it, he had just concluded the bargain with Benoit, and
+had brought his father the key of the new work-yard.
+
+This explanation was given by the young workman with so much modesty and
+simplicity that I was quite affected by it.  Genevieve cried; Michael
+pressed his son to his heart, and in a long embrace he seemed to ask his
+pardon for having unjustly accused him.
+
+All was now explained with honor to Robert.  The conduct which his
+parents had ascribed to indifference really sprang from affection; he had
+neither obeyed the voice of ambition nor of avarice, nor even the nobler
+inspiration of inventive genius: his whole motive and single aim had been
+the happiness of Genevieve and Michael.  The day for proving his
+gratitude had come, and he had returned them sacrifice for sacrifice!
+
+After the explanations and exclamations of joy were over, all three were
+about to leave me; but, the cloth being laid, I added three more places,
+and kept them to breakfast.
+
+The meal was prolonged: the fare was only tolerable; but the over-
+flowings of affection made it delicious.  Never had I better understood
+the unspeakable charm of family love.  What calm enjoyment in that
+happiness which is always shared with others; in that community of
+interests which unites such various feelings; in that association of
+existences which forms one single being of so many!  What is man without
+those home affections, which, like so many roots, fix him firmly in the
+earth, and permit him to imbibe all the juices of life?  Energy,
+happiness--do not all these come from them?  Without family life where
+would man learn to love, to associate, to deny himself?  A community in
+little, is it not this which teaches us how to live in the great one?
+Such is the holiness of home, that, to express our relation with God, we
+have been obliged to borrow the words invented for our family life.  Men
+have named themselves the sons of a heavenly Father!
+
+Ah!  let us carefully preserve these chains of domestic union.  Do not
+let us unbind the human sheaf, and scatter its ears to all the caprices
+of chance and of the winds; but let us rather enlarge this holy law; let
+us carry the principles and the habits of home beyond set bounds; and,
+if it may be, let us realize the prayer of the Apostle of the Gentiles
+when he exclaimed to the newborn children of Christ: "Be ye like-minded,
+having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind."
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Always to mistake feeling for evidence
+Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought
+Fortune sells what we believe she gives
+Make himself a name:  he becomes public property
+My patronage has become her property
+Not desirous to teach goodness
+Power of necessity
+Progress can never be forced on without danger
+So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las
+The man in power gives up his peace
+Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils
+We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v2
+by Emile Souvestre
+
+
+
+
+
+
+AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER
+(Un Philosophe sous les Toits)
+
+By EMILE SOUVESTRE
+
+
+
+BOOK 3.
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+OUR COUNTRY
+
+October 12th, Seven O'clock A.M.
+
+The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through my
+curtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even when
+my eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under my
+counterpane.  Every morning there begins a long argument between my
+activity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I wait
+like the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement.
+
+This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my pillow,
+awoke me earlier than usual.  In vain I turned on my side; the
+persevering light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into every
+position.  At last, quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled my
+nightcap to the foot of the bed!
+
+(I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions of
+this pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbols
+of the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed its
+most common images from them.)
+
+But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my new
+neighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to sleep.
+We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live on their
+own account.  Each one of us is like the earth, according to the old
+system of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolve
+around himself.  On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to:
+'Tous les hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet'.
+
+I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to the
+other end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the warm
+bedclothes, while making a host of evil reflections upon the
+inconvenience of having neighbors.
+
+For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance had
+given me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again on
+rising.  I was almost always alone on this top story--alone with the
+clouds and the sparrows!
+
+But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, like
+the seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take mere
+passengers.  How many different faces have I already seen pass along the
+landing-place belonging to our attics!  How many companions of a few days
+have disappeared forever!  Some are lost in that medley of the living
+which whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others in
+that resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God!
+
+Peter the bookbinder is one of these last.  Wrapped up in selfishness, he
+lived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived.  His loss was
+neither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; there
+was merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied in
+our house.
+
+It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few days.
+
+To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with my
+nightcap)--to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier than
+suits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries his
+misfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, with
+cheerfulness and moderation.
+
+But fate has cruelly tried him.  Father Chaufour is but the wreck of a
+man.  In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left leg
+is made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; but
+above these ruins rises a calm and happy face.  While looking upon his
+countenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice,
+the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see that
+the soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering.  The
+fortress is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrison
+is quite hearty.
+
+Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproach
+myself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke.
+
+We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor.
+All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent to
+us, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sin
+which does not betray itself by action!
+
+But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws?  Besides
+these external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling between
+men?  Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven as
+ourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes?  Ought not
+every human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with our
+prayers for a happy voyage?  It is not enough that men do not harm one
+another; they must also help and love one another!  The papal
+benediction, 'Urbi et orbi'!  should be the constant cry from all hearts.
+To condemn him who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by a
+passing thought, is to break the great law, that which has established
+the union of souls here below, and to which Christ has given the sweet
+name of charity.
+
+These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said to
+myself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me.  To make
+amends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed him
+some explicit proof of sympathy.  I heard him humming a tune in his room;
+he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first neighborly
+call.
+
+
+Eight o'clock P.M.--I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by a
+little smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, and
+making large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a low
+tone.  I had hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation of
+surprise and pleasure.
+
+"Eh! is it you, neighbor?  Come in, then!  I did not think you got up so
+early, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you."
+
+Excellent man!  while I was sending him to the devil he was putting
+himself out of his way for me!
+
+This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having become
+my neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart.
+
+"Faith!  you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian," said he in
+a voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand.  "I do not
+like those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, and
+treat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks.  When men snuff the same
+air, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs to
+each other.  Sit down there, neighbor; I don't mean to order you; only
+take care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-will
+in place of the fourth."
+
+"It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here," I
+observed.
+
+"Good-will!"  repeated Chaufour; "that is all my mother left me, and I
+take it no son has received a better inheritance.  Therefore they used to
+call me Monsieur Content in the batteries."
+
+"You are a soldier, then?"
+
+"I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward in the
+Guard, through all the commotions.  I was at Jemappes and at Waterloo; so
+I was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as one may say!"
+
+I looked at him with astonishment.
+
+"And how old were you then, at Jemappes?"  asked I.
+
+"Somewhere about fifteen," said he.
+
+"How came you to think of being a soldier so early?"
+
+"I did not really think about it.  I then worked at toy-making, and never
+dreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make her
+draught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls.  But I had an old uncle
+at Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time--a Fontenoy veteran in
+the same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen to
+that of a marshal.  Unluckily, in those days there was no way for common
+people to get on.  My uncle, whose services would have got him made a
+prince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of sub-
+lieutenant.  But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross of
+St. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noble
+countenance.  You would have said he was a portrait of one of those old
+heroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles!
+
+"Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my
+memory.  But one day I found him quite grave.
+
+"'Jerome,' said he, 'do you know what is going on on the frontier?'
+
+"'No, lieutenant,' replied I.
+
+"'Well,' resumed he, 'our country is in danger!'
+
+"I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me.
+
+"'Perhaps you have never thought what your country means,' continued he,
+placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all that
+has brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved!  This ground
+that you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along there
+laughing--this is your country!  The laws which protect you, the bread
+which pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the joy
+and grief which come to you from the men and things among which you live
+--this is your country!  The little room where you used to see your
+mother, the remembrances she has left you, the earth where she rests--
+this is your country!  You see it, you breathe it, everywhere!  Think to
+yourself, my son, of your rights and your duties, your affections and
+your wants, your past and your present blessings; write them all under a
+single name--and that name will be your country!'
+
+"I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes.
+
+"'Ah!  I understand,' cried I; 'it is our home in large; it is that part
+of the world where God has placed our body and our soul.'
+
+"'You are right, Jerome,' continued the old soldier; 'so you comprehend
+also what we owe it.'
+
+"'Truly,' resumed I, 'we owe it all that we are; it is a question of
+love.'
+
+"'And of honesty, my son,' concluded he.  'The member of a family who
+does not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his duty,
+and is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not enrich it
+with all his might, with all his courage, and with all his heart,
+defrauds it of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man.  It is the
+same with him who enjoys the advantages of having a country, and does not
+accept the burdens of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad citizen!'
+
+"'And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?' asked I.
+
+"'Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,' said
+he.
+
+"I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the blood
+boiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncle's words
+were, so to speak, written up before my eyes.  I repeated, 'Do for your
+country what you would do for your father and mother.'  And my country is
+in danger; an enemy attacks it, while I--I turn cups and balls!
+
+"This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I returned
+to Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just enlisted, and
+was going off to the frontier.  The brave man pressed upon me his cross
+of St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador.
+
+"That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I
+had cut my wisdom teeth."
+
+All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looks
+upon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance.
+
+While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of himself,
+but of the general subject.  Evidently that which occupied him in the
+drama of life was not his own part, but the drama itself.
+
+This sort of disinterestedness touched me.  I prolonged my visit, and
+showed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence in
+return.  In an hour's time he knew my position and my habits; I was on
+the footing of an old acquaintance.
+
+I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a short
+time before.  He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness which
+comes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything on
+the good side.  He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged him
+to work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old soldier
+compared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his forehead,
+accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list round his
+door!
+
+O great and beautiful soul!  with whom nothing turns to bitterness, and
+who art peremptory only in duty and benevolence!
+
+
+October 15th.--This morning I was looking at a little engraving I had
+framed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design of
+Gavarni's; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and a
+conscript.
+
+By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression, and
+so true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen them
+move, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene, at
+which I am present as spectator.
+
+The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of the
+young soldier.  His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sun
+shining through the flowering chestnut-trees.  In the place of his right
+arm hangs an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound of
+which on the pavement makes those who pass turn to look.
+
+At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greater
+number shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or an
+imprecation.
+
+"See the worth of glory!"  says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes
+in horror.
+
+"What a deplorable use of human life!"  rejoins a young man who carries a
+volume of philosophy under his arm.
+
+"The trooper would better not have left his plow," adds a countryman,
+with a cunning air.
+
+"Poor old man!"  murmurs a woman, almost crying.
+
+The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him that
+his guide has grown thoughtful.  The latter, attracted by what he hears
+around him, hardly answers the old man's questions, and his eyes, vaguely
+lost in space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some problem.
+
+I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he stops
+abruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm:
+
+"They all pity me," says he, "because they do not understand it; but if I
+were to answer them--"
+
+"What would you say to them, father?"  asks the young man, with
+curiosity.
+
+"I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keep
+her tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind some
+struggle for my colors.  There is room for doubting how some men have
+done their duty; with me it is visible.  I carry the account of my
+services, written with the enemy's steel and lead, on myself; to pity me
+for having done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false to
+it."
+
+"And what would you say to the countryman, father?"
+
+"I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first secure
+the country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners ready to
+eat our harvest, there must be arms to defend it."
+
+"But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use
+of life."
+
+"Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach.
+The books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never read
+them: the principles he applauds we have defended with powder and
+bayonet."
+
+"And at the price of your limbs and your blood.  The merchant said, when
+he saw your maimed body, 'See the worth of glory!"'
+
+"Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul; it
+is this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage.  The
+Master of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men.  When we
+desire to be distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove our
+esteem and our sympathy for them?  The longing for admiration is but one
+side of love.  No, no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for!
+That which we should deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove a
+generous self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence have
+called forth.  Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when passing,
+cast looks of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose excesses
+have dimmed his sight before he is old, 'What have you done with your
+eyes?'  To the slothful man, who with difficulty drags along his
+enervated mass of flesh, 'What have you done with your feet?'  To the old
+man, who is punished for his intemperance by the gout, 'What have you
+done with your hands?'  To all, 'What have you done with the days God
+granted you, with the faculties you should have employed for the good of
+your brethren?'  If you cannot answer, bestow no more of your pity upon
+the old soldier maimed in his country's cause; for he--he at least--can
+show his scars without shame."
+
+
+October 16th.--The little engraving has made me comprehend better the
+merits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more.
+
+He has just now left my attic.  There no longer passes a single day
+without his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by his
+board.
+
+The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it.  For twenty
+years he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought without
+hatred, for he was possessed by a single thought--the honor of the
+national flag!  It might have been his superstition, if you will; but it
+was, at the same time, his safeguard.
+
+The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through the
+world, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation.  To
+have to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it is
+an encouragement to vigorous ones.
+
+"I, too, have had many moments," said he to me the other day, "when I
+have been tempted to make friends with the devil.  War is not precisely
+the school for rural virtues.  By dint of burning, destroying, and
+killing, you grow a little tough as regards your feelings; 'and, when the
+bayonet has made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into your head
+a little strongly.  But at these moments I called to mind that country
+which the lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself the well-
+known phrase, 'Toujours Francais!  It has been laughed at since.  People
+who would make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it into
+ridicule, as if the name of our country was not also a noble and a
+binding thing.  For my part, I shall never forget from how many follies
+the title of Frenchman has kept me.  When, overcome with fatigue, I have
+found myself in the rear of the colors, and when the musketry was
+rattling in the front ranks, many a time I heard a voice, which whispered
+in my ear, 'Leave the others to fight, and for today take care of your
+own hide!'  But then, that word Francais!  murmured within me, and I
+pressed forward to help my comrades.  At other times, when, irritated by
+hunger, cold, and wounds, I have arrived at the hovel of some Meinherr,
+I have been seized by an itching to break the master's back, and to burn
+his hut; but I whispered to myself, Francais!  and this name would not
+rhyme with either incendiary or murderer.  I have, in this way, passed
+through kingdoms from east to west, and from north to south, always
+determined not to bring disgrace upon my country's flag.  The lieutenant,
+you see, had taught me a magic word--My country!  Not only must we defend
+it, but we must also make it great and loved."
+
+
+October 17th.--To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit.  A chance
+expression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yet
+done.
+
+I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle.
+
+"No, no!"  replied he; "the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart
+quarries that my arm went to feed."
+
+And when I asked him for the particulars--
+
+"That's as easy as to say good-morning," continued he.  "After the great
+break-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to give
+my wooden leg time to grow.  As soon as I was able to hobble a little,
+I took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hoped
+to find some relative or friend; but no--all were gone, or underground.
+I should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin.
+And although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the better
+off; my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight.
+
+"I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped him
+out of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he had
+offered me bed and board at his house.  I knew that the year before he
+had married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanent
+coat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations.
+It remained to see if I had not anything better to do.  One evening I set
+myself to reflect upon it.
+
+"'Let us see, Chaufour,' said I to myself; 'the question is to act like a
+man.  The colonel's place suits you, but cannot you do anything better?
+Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you not
+owe all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said?  Why
+not leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his hospital
+at the colonel's?  Come, trooper, you are still fit for another stout
+charge or two!  You must not lay up before your time.'
+
+"Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to an
+old artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who had
+taken up the quarryman's pick again.
+
+"For the first few months I played the conscript's part--that is to say,
+there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the better
+of stones, as of everything else.  I did not become, so to speak, the
+leader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen,
+and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with a
+good will.  For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride.  The
+thought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into houses
+pleased my heart.  I said to myself, 'Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; you
+are helping to beautify your country.'  And that kept up my spirit.
+
+"Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to the
+charms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, who
+could hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper to
+strike a light close to a charged mine.  The mine exploded suddenly, and
+sent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, and
+carried away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve."
+
+"So you were again without means of living?"  said I to the old soldier.
+
+"That is to say, I had to change them," replied he, quietly.  "The
+difficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead of
+ten; I found it, however."
+
+"How was that?"
+
+"Among the Paris street-sweepers."
+
+"What!  you have been one--"
+
+"Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that was
+not my worst time either.  The corps of sweepers is not so low as it is
+dirty, I can tell you!  There are old actresses in it who could never
+learn to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; we
+even had a professor of classics, who for a little drink would recite
+Latin to you, or Greek tragedies, as you chose.  They could not have
+competed for the Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account of
+poverty, and cheered our poverty by our good-humor and jokes.  I was as
+ragged and as cheerful as the rest, while trying to be something better.
+Even in the mire of the gutter I preserved my faith that nothing is
+dishonorable which is useful to our country.
+
+"'Chaufour,' said I to myself with a smile, 'after the sword, the hammer;
+after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old boy, but
+you are still serving your country.'"
+
+"'However, you ended by leaving your new profession?' said I."
+
+"A reform was required, neighbor.  The street-sweepers seldom have their
+feet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open again.
+I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to lay down
+my arms.  It is now two months since I left off working in the sanitary
+department of Paris.
+
+"At the first moment I was daunted.  Of my four limbs, I had now only my
+right hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary to
+find some gentlemanly occupation for it.  After trying a little of
+everything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for the
+lace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, but
+it is within the capacity of all.  By getting up at four and working till
+eight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup take fifty
+of them, and there are three sous over for luxuries.  So I am richer than
+France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I continue to
+serve her, as I save her lace and buttons."
+
+At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with his
+great scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboard
+cases.  My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought.
+
+Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle of
+life, always march in front for the example and the salvation of the
+world!  Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is
+"Country," for that "Home," for a third "Mankind;" but they all follow
+the same standard--that of duty; for all the same divine law reigns--that
+of self-sacrifice.  To love something more than one's self--that is the
+secret of all that is great; to know how to live for others--that is the
+aim of all noble souls.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+MORAL USE OF INVENTORIES
+
+November 13th, Nine O'clock P.M.
+
+I had well stopped up the chinks of my window; my little carpet was
+nailed down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast a
+subdued light around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as if
+some live creature was sharing my hearth with me.
+
+All was silent around me.  But, out of doors the snow and rain swept the
+roofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters;
+sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beneath the tiles, which rattled
+together like castanets, and afterward it was lost in the empty corridor.
+Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my veins: I drew
+the flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I pulled my
+threadbare velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink deeper into
+my easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light which shone
+through the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a sensation of
+enjoyment, made more lively by the consciousness of the storm which raged
+without.  My eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered over all the
+details of my peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to my bookcase,
+resting upon the little chintz sofa, the white curtains of the iron
+bedstead, and the portfolio of loose papers--those archives of the
+attics; and then, returning to the book I held in my hand, they attempted
+to seize once more the thread of the reading which had been thus
+interrupted.
+
+In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first interested me, had
+become painful to me.  I had come to the conclusion that the pictures of
+the writer were too sombre.  His description of the miseries of the world
+appeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of poverty
+and of suffering; neither God nor man could show themselves so harsh
+toward the sons of Adam.  The author had yielded to an artistic
+temptation: he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Nero
+burned Rome for the sake of the picturesque.
+
+Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so much
+criticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it to
+satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness of
+the wise man costs but little, and asks but little space.
+
+These consoling reflections became more and more confused.  At last my
+book fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop and
+take it up again; and insensibly overcome by the luxury of the silence,
+the subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep.
+
+I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging to
+a first sleep; at last some vague and broken sensations came over me.
+It seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder.
+I half perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretell
+the coming of winter.  I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and there
+with juniper-trees white with frost.  Then the scene suddenly changed.
+I was in the diligence; the cold wind shook the doors and windows; the
+trees, loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust my
+benumbed feet into the crushed straw.  At last the carriage stopped, and,
+by one of those stage effects so common in sleep, I found myself alone in
+a barn, without a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides.  I saw
+again my mother's gentle face, known only to me in my early childhood,
+the noble and stern countenance of my father, the little fair head of my
+sister, who was taken from us at ten years old; all my dead family lived
+again around me; they were there, exposed to the bitings of the cold and
+to the pangs of hunger.  My mother prayed by the resigned old man, and my
+sister, rolled up on some rags of which they had made her a bed, wept in
+silence, and held her naked feet in her little blue hands.
+
+It was a page from the book I had just read transferred into my own
+existence.
+
+My heart was oppressed with inexpressible anguish.  Crouched in a corner,
+with my eyes fixed upon this dismal picture, I felt the cold slowly
+creeping upon me, and I said to myself with bitterness:
+
+"Let us die, since poverty is a dungeon guarded by suspicion, apathy, and
+contempt, and from which it is vain to try to escape; let us die, since
+there is no place for us at the banquet of the living!"
+
+And I tried to rise to join my mother again, and to wait at her feet for
+the hour of release.
+
+This effort dispelled my dream, and I awoke with a start.
+
+I looked around me; my lamp was expiring, the fire in my stove
+extinguished, and my half-opened door was letting in an icy wind.
+I got up, with a shiver, to shut and double-lock it; then I made for
+the alcove, and went to bed in haste.
+
+But the cold kept me awake a long time, and my thoughts continued the
+interrupted dream.
+
+The pictures I had lately accused of exaggeration now seemed but a too
+faithful representation of reality; and I went to sleep without being
+able to recover my optimism--or my warmth.
+
+Thus did a cold stove and a badly closed door alter my point of view.
+All went well when my blood circulated properly; all looked gloomy when
+the cold laid hold on me.
+
+This reminds me of the story of the duchess who was obliged to pay a
+visit to the neighboring convent on a winter's day.  The convent was
+poor, there was no wood, and the monks had nothing but their discipline
+and the ardor of their prayers to keep out the cold.  The duchess, who
+was shivering with cold, returned home, greatly pitying the poor monks.
+While the servants were taking off her cloak and adding two more logs to
+her fire, she called her steward, whom she ordered to send some wood to
+the convent immediately.  She then had her couch moved close to the
+fireside, the warmth of which soon revived her.  The recollection of what
+she had just suffered was speedily lost in her present comfort, when the
+steward came in again to ask how many loads of wood he was to send.
+
+"Oh!  you may wait," said the great lady carelessly; "the weather is very
+much milder."
+
+Thus, man's judgments are formed less from reason than from sensation;
+and as sensation comes to him from the outward world, so he finds himself
+more or less under its influence; by little and little he imbibes a
+portion of his habits and feelings from it.
+
+It is not, then, without cause that, when we wish to judge of a stranger
+beforehand, we look for indications of his character in the circumstances
+which surround him.  The things among which we live are necessarily made
+to take our image, and we unconsciously leave in them a thousand
+impressions of our minds.  As we can judge by an empty bed of the height
+and attitude of him who has slept in it, so the abode of every man
+discovers to a close observer the extent of his intelligence and the
+feelings of his heart.  Bernardin de St.-Pierre has related the story of
+a young girl who refused a suitor because he would never have flowers or
+domestic animals in his house.  Perhaps the sentence was severe, but not
+without reason.  We may presume that a man insensible to beauty and to
+humble affection must be ill prepared to feel the enjoyments of a happy
+marriage.
+
+
+14th, seven o'clock P.M.--This morning, as I was opening my journal to
+write, I had a visit from our old cashier.
+
+His sight is not so good as it was, his hand begins to shake, and the
+work he was able to do formerly is now becoming somewhat laborious to
+him.  I had undertaken to write out some of his papers, and he came for
+those I had finished.
+
+We conversed a long time by the stove, while he was drinking a cup of
+coffee which I made him take.
+
+M. Rateau is a sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little; so
+that he has always something to say.
+
+While looking over the accounts I had prepared for him, his look fell
+upon my journal, and I was obliged to acknowledge that in this way I
+wrote a diary of my actions and thoughts every evening for private use.
+From one thing to another, I began speaking to him of my dream the day
+before, and my reflections about the influence of outward objects upon
+our ordinary sentiments.  He smiled.
+
+"Ah! you, too, have my superstitions," he said, quietly.  "I have always
+believed, like you, that you may know the game by the lair: it is only
+necessary to have tact and experience; but without them we commit
+ourselves to many rash judgments.  For my part.  I have been guilty of
+this more than once, but sometimes I have also drawn a right conclusion.
+I recollect especially an adventure which goes as far back as the first
+years of my youth--"
+
+He stopped.  I looked at him as if I waited for his story, and he told it
+me at once.
+
+At this time he was still but third clerk to an attorney at Orleans.  His
+master had sent him to Montargis on different affairs, and he intended to
+return in the diligence the same evening, after having received the
+amount of a bill at a neighboring town; but they kept him at the debtor's
+house, and when he was able to set out the day had already closed.
+
+Fearing not to be able to reach Montargis in good time, he took a
+crossroad they pointed out to him.  Unfortunately the fog increased,
+no star was visible in the heavens, and the darkness became so great that
+he lost his road.  He tried to retrace his steps, passed twenty
+footpaths, and at last was completely astray.
+
+After the vexation of losing his place in the diligence, came the feeling
+of uneasiness as to his situation.  He was alone, on foot, lost in a
+forest, without any means of finding his right road again, and with a
+considerable sum of money about him, for which he was responsible.  His
+anxiety was increased by his inexperience.  The idea of a forest was
+connected in his mind with so many adventures of robbery and murder,
+that he expected some fatal encounter every instant.
+
+To say the truth, his situation was not encouraging.  The place was not
+considered safe, and for some time past there had been rumors of the
+sudden disappearance of several horse-dealers, though there was no trace
+of any crime having been committed.
+
+Our young traveller, with his eyes staring forward, and his ears
+listening, followed a footpath which he supposed might take him to some
+house or road; but woods always succeeded to woods.  At last he perceived
+a light at a distance, and in a quarter of an hour he reached the
+highroad.
+
+A single house, the light from which had attracted him, appeared at a
+little distance.  He was going toward the entrance gate of the courtyard,
+when the trot of a horse made him turn his head.  A man on horseback had
+just appeared at the turning of the road, and in an instant was close to
+him.
+
+The first words he addressed to the young man showed him to be the farmer
+himself.  He related how he had lost himself, and learned from the
+countryman that he was on the road to Pithiviers.  Montargis was three
+leagues behind him.
+
+The fog had insensibly changed into a drizzling rain, which was beginning
+to wet the young clerk through; he seemed afraid of the distance he had
+still to go, and the horseman, who saw his hesitation, invited him to
+come into the farmhouse.
+
+It had something of the look of a fortress.  Surrounded by a pretty high
+wall, it could not be seen except through the bars of the great gate,
+which was carefully closed.  The farmer, who had got off his horse, did
+not go near it, but, turning to the right, reached another entrance
+closed in the same way, but of which he had the key.
+
+Hardly had he passed the threshold when a terrible barking resounded
+from each end of the yard.  The farmer told his guest to fear nothing,
+and showed him the dogs chained up to their kennels; both were of an
+extraordinary size, and so savage that the sight of their master himself
+could not quiet them.
+
+A boy, attracted by their barking, came out of the house and took the
+farmer's horse.  The latter began questioning him about some orders he
+had given before he left the house, and went toward the stable to see
+that they had been executed.
+
+Thus left alone, our clerk looked about him.
+
+A lantern which the boy had placed on the ground cast a dim light over
+the courtyard.  All around seemed empty and deserted.  Not a trace was
+visible of the disorder often seen in a country farmyard, and which shows
+a temporary cessation of the work which is soon to be resumed again.
+Neither a cart forgotten where the horses had been unharnessed, nor
+sheaves of corn heaped up ready for threshing, nor a plow overturned in a
+corner and half hidden under the freshly-cut clover.  The yard was swept,
+the barns shut up and padlocked.  Not a single vine creeping up the
+walls; everywhere stone, wood, and iron!
+
+He took up the lantern and went up to the corner of the house.  Behind
+was a second yard, where he heard the barking of a third dog, and a
+covered wall was built in the middle of it.
+
+Our traveller looked in vain for the little farm garden, where pumpkins
+of different sorts creep along the ground, or where the bees from the
+hives hum under the hedges of honeysuckle and elder.  Verdure and flowers
+were nowhere to be seen.  He did not even perceive the sight of a
+poultry-yard or pigeon-house.  The habitation of his host was everywhere
+wanting in that which makes the grace and the life of the country.
+
+The young man thought that his host must be of a very careless or a very
+calculating disposition, to concede so little to domestic enjoyments and
+the pleasures of the eye; and judging, in spite of himself, by what he
+saw, he could not help feeling a distrust of his character.
+
+In the mean time the farmer returned from the stables, and made him enter
+the house.
+
+The inside of the farmhouse corresponded to its outside.  The whitewashed
+walls had no other ornament than a row of guns of all sizes; the massive
+furniture hardly redeemed its clumsy appearance by its great solidity.
+The cleanliness was doubtful, and the absence of all minor conveniences
+proved that a woman's care was wanting in the household concerns.  The
+young clerk learned that the farmer, in fact, lived here with no one but
+his two sons.
+
+Of this, indeed, the signs were plain enough.  A table with the cloth
+laid, that no one had taken the trouble to clear away, was left near the
+window.  The plates and dishes were scattered upon it without any order,
+and loaded with potato-parings and half-picked bones.  Several empty
+bottles emitted an odor of brandy, mixed with the pungent smell of
+tobacco-smoke.
+
+After seating his guest, the farmer lighted his pipe, and his two sons
+resumed their work by the fireside.  Now and then the silence was just
+broken by a short remark, answered by a word or an exclamation; and then
+all became as mute as before.
+
+"From my childhood," said the old cashier, "I had been very sensible to
+the impression of outward objects; later in life, reflection had taught
+me to study the causes of these impressions rather than to drive them
+away.  I set myself, then, to examine everything around me with great
+attention.
+
+"Below the guns, I had remarked on entering, some wolftraps were
+suspended, and to one of them still hung the mangled remains of a wolf's
+paw, which they had not yet taken off from the iron teeth.  The blackened
+chimneypiece was ornamented by an owl and a raven nailed on the wall,
+their wings extended, and their throats with a huge nail through each; a
+fox's skin, freshly flayed, was spread before the window; and a larder
+hook, fixed into the principal beam, held a headless goose, whose body
+swayed about over our heads.
+
+"My eyes were offended by all these details, and I turned them again upon
+my hosts.  The father, who sat opposite to me, only interrupted his
+smoking to pour out his drink, or address some reprimand to his sons.
+The eldest of these was scraping a deep bucket, and the bloody scrapings,
+which he threw into the fire every instant, filled the room with a
+disagreeable fetid smell; the second son was sharpening some butcher's
+knives.  I learned from a word dropped from the father that they were
+preparing to kill a pig the next day.
+
+"These occupations and the whole aspect of things inside the house told
+of such habitual coarseness in their way of living as seemed to explain,
+while it formed the fitting counterpart of, the forbidding gloominess of
+the outside.  My astonishment by degrees changed into disgust, and my
+disgust into uneasiness.  I cannot detail the whole chain of ideas which
+succeeded one another in my imagination; but, yielding to an impulse I
+could not overcome, I got up, declaring I would go on my road again.
+
+"The farmer made some effort to keep me; he spoke of the rain, of the
+darkness, and of the length of the way.  I replied to all by the absolute
+necessity there was for my being at Montargis that very night; and
+thanking him for his brief hospitality, I set off again in a haste which
+might well have confirmed the truth of my words to him.
+
+"However, the freshness of the night and the exercise of walking did not
+fail to change the directions of my thoughts.  When away from the objects
+which had awakened such lively disgust in me, I felt it gradually
+diminishing.  I began to smile at the susceptibility of my feelings,
+and then, in proportion as the rain became heavier and colder, these
+strictures on myself assumed a tone of ill-temper.  I silently accused
+myself of the absurdity of mistaking sensation for admonitions of my
+reason.  After all, were not the farmer and his sons free to live alone,
+to hunt, to keep dogs, and to kill a pig?  Where was the crime of it?
+With less nervous susceptibility, I should have accepted the shelter they
+offered me, and I should now be sleeping snugly on a truss of straw,
+instead of walking with difficulty through the cold and drizzling rain.
+I thus continued to reproach myself, until, toward morning, I arrived at
+Montargis, jaded and benumbed with cold.
+
+"When, however, I got up refreshed, toward the middle of the next day,
+I instinctively returned to my first opinion.  The appearance of the
+farmhouse presented itself to me under the same repulsive colors which
+the evening before had determined me to make my escape from it.  Reason
+itself remained silent when reviewing all those coarse details, and was
+forced to recognize in them the indications of a low nature, or else the
+presence of some baleful influence.
+
+"I went away the next day without being able to learn anything concerning
+the farmer or his sons; but the recollection of my adventure remained
+deeply fixed in my memory.
+
+"Ten years afterward I was travelling in the diligence through the
+department of the Loiret; I was leaning from the window, and looking at
+some coppice ground now for the first time brought under cultivation, and
+the mode of clearing which one of my travelling companions was explaining
+to me, when my eyes fell upon a walled inclosure, with an iron-barred
+gate.  Inside it I perceived a house with all the blinds closed, and
+which I immediately recollected; it was the farmhouse where I had been
+sheltered.  I eagerly pointed it out to my companion, and asked who lived
+in it.
+
+"'Nobody just now,' replied he.
+
+"'But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?'
+
+"'The Turreaus;' said my travelling companion, looking at me; 'did you
+know them?'
+
+"'I saw them once.'
+
+"He shook his head.
+
+"'Yes, yes!' resumed he; 'for many years they lived there like wolves in
+their den; they merely knew how to till land, kill game, and drink.  The
+father managed the house, but men living alone, without women to love
+them, without children to soften them, and without God to make them think
+of heaven, always turn into wild beasts, you see; so one morning the
+eldest son, who had been drinking too much brandy, would not harness the
+plow-horses; his father struck him with his whip, and the son, who was
+mad drunk, shot him dead with his gun.'"
+
+
+16th, P.M.--I have been thinking of the story of the old cashier these
+two days; it came so opportunely upon the reflections my dream had
+suggested to me.
+
+Have I not an important lesson to learn from all this?
+
+If our sensations have an incontestable influence upon our judgments,
+how comes it that we are so little careful of those things which awaken
+or modify these sensations?  The external world is always reflected in us
+as in a mirror, and fills our minds with pictures which, unconsciously to
+ourselves, become the germs of our opinions and of our rules of conduct.
+All the objects which surround us are then, in reality, so many talismans
+whence good and evil influences are emitted, and it is for us to choose
+them wisely, so as to create a healthy atmosphere for our minds.
+
+Feeling convinced of this truth, I set about making a survey of my attic.
+
+The first object on which my eyes rest is an old map of the history of
+the principal monastery in my native province.  I had unrolled it with
+much satisfaction, and placed it on the most conspicuous part of the
+wall.  Why had I given it this place?  Ought this sheet of old worm-eaten
+parchment to be of so much value to me, who am neither an antiquary nor a
+scholar?  Is not its real importance in my sight that one of the abbots
+who founded it bore my name, and that I shall, perchance, be able to make
+myself a genealogical tree of it for the edification of my visitors?
+While writing this, I feel my own blushes.  Come, down with the map!
+let us banish it into my deepest drawer.
+
+As I passed my glass, I perceived several visiting cards complacently
+displayed in the frame.  By what chance is it that there are only names
+that make a show among them?  Here is a Polish count--a retired colonel--
+the deputy of my department.  Quick, quick, into the fire with these
+proofs of vanity!  and let us put this card in the handwriting of our
+office-boy, this direction for cheap dinners, and the receipt of the
+broker where I bought my last armchair, in their place.  These
+indications of my poverty will serve, as Montaigne says, 'mater ma
+superbe', and will always make me recollect the modesty in which the
+dignity of the lowly consists.
+
+I have stopped before the prints hanging upon the wall.  This large and
+smiling Pomona, seated on sheaves of corn, and whose basket is
+overflowing with fruit, only produces thoughts of joy and plenty; I was
+looking at her the other day, when I fell asleep denying such a thing as
+misery.  Let us give her as companion this picture of Winter, in which
+everything tells of sorrow and suffering: one picture will modify the
+other.
+
+And this Happy Family of Greuze's!  What joy in the children's eyes!
+What sweet repose in the young woman's face!  What religious feeling in
+the grandfather's countenance!  May God preserve their happiness to them!
+but let us hang by its side the picture of this mother, who weeps over an
+empty cradle.  Human life has two faces, both of which we must dare to
+contemplate in their turn.
+
+Let me hide, too, these ridiculous monsters which ornament my
+chimneypiece.  Plato has said that "the beautiful is nothing else than
+the visible form of the good."  If it is so, the ugly should be the
+visible form of the evil, and, by constantly beholding it, the mind
+insensibly deteriorates.
+
+But above all, in order to cherish the feelings of kindness and pity, let
+me hang at the foot of my bed this affecting picture of the Last Sleep!
+Never have I been able to look at it without feeling my heart touched.
+
+An old woman, clothed in rags, is lying by a roadside; her stick is at
+her feet, and her head rests upon a stone; she has fallen asleep; her
+hands are clasped; murmuring a prayer of her childhood, she sleeps her
+last sleep, she dreams her last dream!
+
+She sees herself, again a strong and happy child, keeping the sheep on
+the common, gathering the berries from the hedges, singing, curtsying to
+passers-by, and making the sign of the cross when the first star appears
+in the heavens!  Happy time, filled with fragrance and sunshine!  She
+wants nothing yet, for she is ignorant of what there is to wish for.
+
+But see her grown up; the time is come for working bravely: she must cut
+the corn, thresh the wheat, carry the bundles of flowering clover or
+branches of withered leaves to the farm.  If her toil is hard, hope
+shines like a sun over everything and it wipes the drops of sweat away.
+The growing girl already sees that life is a task, but she still sings as
+she fulfills it.
+
+By-and-bye the burden becomes heavier; she is a wife, she is a mother!
+She must economize the bread of to-day, have her eye upon the morrow,
+take care of the sick, and sustain the feeble; she must act, in short,
+that part of an earthly Providence, so easy when God gives us his aid,
+so hard when he forsakes us.  She is still strong, but she is anxious;
+she sings no longer!
+
+Yet a few years, and all is overcast.  The husband's health is broken;
+his wife sees him pine away by the now fireless hearth; cold and hunger
+finish what sickness had begun; he dies, and his widow sits on the ground
+by the coffin provided by the charity of others, pressing her two half-
+naked little ones in her arms.  She dreads the future, she weeps, and she
+droops her head.
+
+At last the future has come; the children are grown up, but they are no
+longer with her.  Her son is fighting under his country's flag, and his
+sister is gone.  Both have been lost to her for a long time--perhaps
+forever; and the strong girl, the brave wife, the courageous mother, is
+henceforth only a poor old beggar-woman, without a family, and without a
+home!  She weeps no more, sorrow has subdued her; she surrenders, and
+waits for death.
+
+Death, that faithful friend of the wretched, is come: not hideous and
+with mockery, as superstition represents, but beautiful, smiling, and
+crowned with stars!  The gentle phantom stoops to the beggar; its pale
+lips murmur a few airy words, which announce to her the end of her
+labors; a peaceful joy comes over the aged beggarwoman, and, leaning on
+the shoulder of the great Deliverer, she has passed unconsciously from
+her last earthly sleep to her eternal rest.
+
+Lie there, thou poor way-wearied woman!  The leaves will serve thee for a
+winding-sheet.  Night will shed her tears of dew over thee, and the birds
+will sing sweetly by thy remains.  Thy visit here below will not have
+left more trace than their flight through the air; thy name is already
+forgotten, and the only legacy thou hast to leave is the hawthorn stick
+lying forgotten at thy feet!
+
+Well! some one will take it up--some soldier of that great human host
+which is scattered abroad by misery or by vice; for thou art not an
+exception, thou art an instance; and under the same sun which shines so
+pleasantly upon all, in the midst of these flowering vineyards, this ripe
+corn, and these wealthy cities, entire generations suffer, succeed each
+other, and still bequeath to each the beggar's stick!
+
+The sight of this sad picture shall make me more grateful for what God
+has given me, and more compassionate for those whom he has treated with
+less indulgence; it shall be a lesson and a subject for reflection for
+me.
+
+Ah! if we would watch for everything that might improve and instruct us;
+if the arrangements of our daily life were so disposed as to be a
+constant school for our minds! but oftenest we take no heed of them.
+Man is an eternal mystery to himself; his own person is a house into
+which he never enters, and of which he studies the outside alone.  Each
+of us need have continually before him the famous inscription which once
+instructed Socrates, and which was engraved on the walls of Delphi by an
+unknown hand:
+
+                         KNOW THYSELF.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XII
+
+THE END OF THE YEAR
+
+December 30th, P.M.
+
+I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had
+kept me for so long between life and death.  My weakened brain was making
+efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light
+struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at
+times I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my
+ideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental
+wandering and consciousness.
+
+Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from
+the top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather.  We
+distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on
+the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden
+with mist, and all is confused and indistinct.
+
+Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed
+my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to
+separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the
+other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one
+another.
+
+Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath
+the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female figure
+appears before me!
+
+At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of
+Eve.  In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had
+the pallor of an heroic death-struggle.  She was dressed in a drapery of
+a thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues, and
+held a withered garland in her hand.
+
+After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and
+what brought her into my attic.  Her eyes, which were following the
+movements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied:
+
+"You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to
+receive your thanks and your farewell."
+
+I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter
+resentment.
+
+"Ah! you want thanks," cried I; "but first let me know what for?
+
+"When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have
+taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by
+inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less
+warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before!  You have
+planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer
+flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old
+age!
+
+"And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also
+diminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm;
+she is become more sluggish and more timid.  Formerly her eyes took in
+the whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her
+nearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself!  "That is what you
+have done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see to
+what grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it!  "For the many days
+that the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care of
+this home in which I placed all my joy?  Shall I not find my closets
+empty, my bookcase ,stripped, all my poor treasures lost through
+negligence or dishonesty?  Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I
+fed?  All are gone!  my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary!  "As it
+is only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousness
+of what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my long
+illness!  Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means of
+recompense are exhausted !  "And what will my masters, for whom I am
+bound to work, have said to my absence?  At this time of the year, when
+business is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they even
+have tried to do so?  Perhaps I am already superseded in the humble
+situation by which I earned my daily bread!  And it is thou-thou alone,
+wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon me:
+strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me.  I have
+only received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim my
+gratitude!
+
+"Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and
+may I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that
+of a king:
+
+          "'Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here
+          cannot live again.'"
+
+                    .......................
+
+I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized
+the doctor.
+
+After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of
+the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox.  I have
+since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor.
+
+"Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?"  said M. Lambert, in
+his half-joking, half-scolding way.  "What the deuce of a hurry we were
+in!  It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!"
+
+"Then you had given me up, doctor?" asked I, rather alarmed.
+
+"Not at all," replied the old physician.  "We can't give up what we have
+not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope.  We are but
+instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with
+Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!"'
+
+"May He be blessed then, as well as you," cried I; "and may my health
+come back with the new year!"
+
+M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders.
+
+"Begin by asking yourself for it," resumed he, bluntly.  "God has given
+it you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for
+you.  One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us
+like the rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the
+matter.  Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve
+to be well."
+
+I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry.
+
+"Ah! you think that I am joking," resumed he, raising his voice; "but
+tell me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he
+gives to his business?  Do you economize your strength as you economize
+your money?  Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the
+same care as extravagance or foolish speculations in the other?  Do you
+keep as regular accounts of your mode of living as you do of your income?
+Do you consider every evening what has been wholesome or unwholesome for
+you, with the same care that you bring to the examination of your
+expenditure?  You may smile; but have you not brought this illness on
+yourself by a thousand indiscretions?"
+
+I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these
+indiscretions.  The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to
+reckon upon them one by one.
+
+"Primo," cried he, "want of exercise.  You live here like a mouse in a
+cheese, without air, motion, or change.  Consequently, the blood
+circulates badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do not
+claim their share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain grows
+weary.
+
+"Secundo.  Irregular food.  Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave
+who must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen
+revenge, like all slaves.
+
+"Tertio.  Sitting up late.  Instead of using the night for sleep, you
+spend it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk!
+At the time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through
+these nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for
+them the next day.
+
+"Quarto.  Luxurious habits.  Shut up in your attic, you insensibly
+surround yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences.  You must have
+list for your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an
+easy-chair stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the first
+sign of cold, and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these
+precautions, the least draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give
+you no rest, and you must wear spectacles to support the light of day.
+You have thought you were acquiring comforts, and you have only
+contracted infirmities.
+
+"Quinto"
+
+"Ah! enough, enough, doctor!"  cried I.  "Pray, do not carry your
+examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my
+pleasures."
+
+The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox.
+
+"You see," said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, "you would
+escape from the truth.  You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are
+guilty.  'Habemus confitentem reum'!  But at least, my friend, do not go
+on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman."
+
+Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his
+function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself.
+
+When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said.
+
+Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the
+main.  How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we
+should seek in ourselves!  Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him
+finish the examination he had begun.
+
+But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns the
+health of the soul?  Am I so sure of having neglected no means of
+preserving that during the year which is now ending?  Have I, as one of
+God's soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient?  Shall
+I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO
+IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat?
+
+Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul!  and see how often thou hast
+erred?
+
+First, thou hast erred through pride!  for I have not duly valued the
+lowly.  I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and
+have found no relish in pure water.  I have disdained those words which
+had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men
+solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I
+have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and my
+sympathy has been awakened by admiration only.  The vulgar crowd, which I
+ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is composed of my
+brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as much indifference
+as if it were a flock of sheep.  I am indignant with him who rolls in
+riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and yet, vain of my
+trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I scorn the
+poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit for a gift
+which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of fortune into a
+weapon with which to attack others.
+
+Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and
+raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in the
+envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the
+contemptuous pride of knowledge.
+
+Alas!  I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the
+magician of Bagdad.
+
+One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind,
+while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight.  The latter, proud of
+his own advantages, laughed at his brother's blindness, and disdained him
+as a companion.  One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him.
+
+"To what purpose," said he, "since the gods have put nothing in common
+between us?  For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes
+and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an obscure
+abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of an
+invisible world.  Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the
+pleasures of light to those upon whom the day-star shines."
+
+With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry
+bitterly.  His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried
+to console him by promising to give him whatever he desired.
+
+"Can you give me sight?"  asked the child.
+
+"Fate does not permit it," said the magician.
+
+"Then," cried the blind boy, eagerly, "I ask you to put out the sun!"
+
+Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of
+some one of my brothers who does not see?
+
+But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought!
+How many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I
+pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not
+done without any sense of my responsibility!  The greater part of men
+harm one another for the sake of doing something.  We laugh at the honor
+of one, and compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who
+saunters along a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying the
+most beautiful flowers.
+
+And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of
+some men is created.  It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious
+mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every
+passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes,
+without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a
+gibbet.  Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up
+there to view?
+
+Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which
+the Montmartre telegraph stands.  Below me, along one of the zigzag paths
+which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my
+attention.  The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance
+to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he
+described various strange figures in the air.  He spoke very loud, and in
+a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion.  He raised his eyes
+every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it
+appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and that
+she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my heart.
+Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the attempt to
+justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again immediately
+with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his threatening
+evolutions in the air.  I followed him with my eyes, vainly endeavoring
+to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind the hill.
+
+I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen
+tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though
+they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose
+rather to be their tormentors.
+
+I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these
+crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they
+deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer.  He had turned the
+path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope.
+
+The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in
+place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an
+angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only
+an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining the
+management of silkworms to his attentive daughter.
+
+I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my
+faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every
+finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame.
+A manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to
+assist in extinguishing it.
+
+I hesitated.  Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was
+awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my
+way.
+
+Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from
+selfishness and cowardice.
+
+But what!  have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties
+which bind us to our fellowmen?  Is this the first time I have avoided
+paying society what I owe it?  Have I not always behaved to my companions
+with injustice, and like the lion?  Have I not claimed successively every
+share?  If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little
+portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every
+means.  How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up
+at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that
+compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable!  How often
+have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice
+harden my heart against them.
+
+With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor
+man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves!
+
+Oh! let us not go farther--let us not go farther!  I interrupted the
+doctor's examination, but how much sadder is this one!  We pity the
+diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul.
+
+I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier.
+
+Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the
+figure of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and
+sometimes sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard.
+
+He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and his
+great scissors.  I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful
+exclamation, and came near me.
+
+"Well! so the bullet is found again!"  cried he, taking my two hands into
+the maimed one which was left him; "it has not been without trouble,
+I can tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in.
+I have seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my
+hospital days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was on
+fire in his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines; but
+the third day it all went out of itself.  But with you it has lasted
+twenty-eight days--as long as one of the Little Corporal's campaigns."
+
+"I am not mistaken then; you were near me?"
+
+"Well!  I had only to cross the passage.  This left hand has not made you
+a bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah!  you did not know what hand
+gave you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being
+drowned--for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster."
+
+The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to
+speak, pressed his hand against my breast.  He saw my emotion, and
+hastened to put an end to it.
+
+"By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw your
+rations again," resumed he gayly; "four meals, like the German meinherrs
+--nothing more!  The doctor is your house steward."
+
+"We must find the cook, too," replied I, with a smile.
+
+"She is found," said the veteran.
+
+"Who is she?"
+
+"Genevieve."
+
+"The fruit-woman?"
+
+"While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear her
+sparing either butter or trouble.  As long as life and death were
+fighting for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down
+stairs to learn which way the battle went.  And, stay, I am sure this is
+she."
+
+In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door.
+
+"Oh, well!"  continued he, "it is Mother Millot, our portress, another of
+your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you.
+Come in, Mother Millot--come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning,
+and ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes."
+
+The portress came in, quite delighted.  She brought my linen, washed and
+mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her
+sailor son, and kept for great occasions.  I would have thanked her, but
+the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the doctor
+had forbidden me to speak.  I saw her arrange everything in my drawers,
+the neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand had evidently
+been there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable disorder
+consequent on sickness.
+
+As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by
+Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the same
+time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to be
+convalescent.  The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she
+herself wished to see me eat.
+
+It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her.  At every
+detail she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her
+to be less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper.  They made a circle
+around me to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied
+by their expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness.  Never had the
+King of France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among
+the spectators.
+
+As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier,
+entered in his turn.
+
+I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him.  How would the
+heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me?
+
+I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by
+me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a
+word about our masters.  I could not endure this uncertainty any longer.
+
+"And the Messieurs Durmer," asked I, hesitatingly, "how have they taken--
+the interruption to my work?"
+
+"There has been no interruption," replied the old clerk, quietly.
+
+"What do you mean?"
+
+"Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as
+usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference."
+
+This was too much.  After so many instances of affection, this filled up
+the measure.  I could not restrain my tears.
+
+Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been
+acknowledged by them a hundredfold!  I had sown a little seed, and every
+grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf.  Ah!
+this completes the lesson the doctor gave me.  If it is true that the
+diseases, whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and
+our vices, sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having done
+our duty.  Every one of us, with God's help, and within the narrow limits
+of human capability, himself makes his own disposition, character, and
+permanent condition.
+
+Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and my
+birds, and they are my only companions.  The setting sun reddens my half-
+closed curtains with its last rays.  My brain is clear, and my heart
+lighter.  A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that
+happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep.
+
+Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand
+changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me;
+but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile.
+
+"Adieu, beloved year!  whom I but now unjustly accused.  That which I
+have suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through
+which God had marked out my road--a ground where I had reaped the harvest
+I had sown.  I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those hours of
+happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for the
+suffering thou hast seen me endure.  Neither happiness nor suffering came
+from thee; but thou hast been the scene for them.  Descend again then, in
+peace, into eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me experience in
+the place of youth, sweet memories instead of past time, and gratitude as
+payment for good offices."
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS:
+
+Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'
+Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws
+Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures
+But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
+Contemptuous pride of knowledge
+Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
+Houses are vessels which take mere passengers
+I make it a rule never to have any hope
+Ignorant of what there is to wish for
+Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance
+More stir than work
+Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget
+Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them
+Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little
+Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims
+The happiness of the wise man costs but little
+We do not understand that others may live on their own account
+What have you done with the days God granted you
+You may know the game by the lair
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v3
+by Emile Souvestre
+
+
+
+
+
+
+ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FROM THE ENTIRE "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER:
+
+Always to mistake feeling for evidence
+Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!'
+Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws
+Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures
+Brought them up to poverty
+But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face
+Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!
+Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping
+Contemptuous pride of knowledge
+Death, that faithful friend of the wretched
+Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns
+Did not think the world was so great
+Do they understand what makes them so gay?
+Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community
+Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness
+Every one keeps his holidays in his own way
+Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought
+Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know"
+Fear of losing a moment from business
+Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent
+Fortune sells what we believe she gives
+Her kindness, which never sleeps
+Houses are vessels which take mere passengers
+Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply
+I make it a rule never to have any hope
+Ignorant of what there is to wish for
+Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance
+Make himself a name:  he becomes public property
+Moderation is the great social virtue
+More stir than work
+My patronage has become her property
+No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give
+Not desirous to teach goodness
+Nothing is dishonorable which is useful
+Our tempers are like an opera-glass
+Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress
+Power of necessity
+Prisoners of work
+Progress can never be forced on without danger
+Question is not to discover what will suit us
+Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget
+Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival
+Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them
+Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little
+So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las
+Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims
+The happiness of the wise man costs but little
+The man in power gives up his peace
+Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation
+Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils
+We do not understand that others may live on their own account
+We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty
+What have you done with the days God granted you
+What a small dwelling joy can live
+You may know the game by the lair
+
+
+
+
+End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, entire
+by Emile Souvestre
+
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