diff options
| -rw-r--r-- | .gitattributes | 3 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999-0.txt | 5322 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999-0.zip | bin | 0 -> 111205 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999-h.zip | bin | 0 -> 116920 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999-h/3999-h.htm | 6207 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999.txt | 5322 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | 3999.zip | bin | 0 -> 110865 bytes | |||
| -rw-r--r-- | LICENSE.txt | 11 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | README.md | 2 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/im86b10.txt | 5438 | ||||
| -rw-r--r-- | old/im86b10.zip | bin | 0 -> 113299 bytes |
11 files changed, 22305 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3999-0.txt b/3999-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..97bcdb7 --- /dev/null +++ b/3999-0.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 + +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 *** + +***** This file should be named 3999-0.txt or 3999-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/9/3999/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/3999-0.zip b/3999-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..684486a --- /dev/null +++ b/3999-0.zip diff --git a/3999-h.zip b/3999-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f9b3ba3 --- /dev/null +++ b/3999-h.zip diff --git a/3999-h/3999-h.htm b/3999-h/3999-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e439239 --- /dev/null +++ b/3999-h/3999-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6207 @@ +<?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 “ATTIC” 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 “ATTIC” 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’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. </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’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. + </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 ‘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. + </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 ‘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.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + JOSEPH BERTRAND + de ‘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 “ATTIC” 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’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!—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—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? + </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’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.) + </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’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’s house which + faces my attic. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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’s gifts! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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 “brought them up to poverty,” 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—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! + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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 + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named “Piedmontese” or “Savoyard,” + 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!—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. + </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’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’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!” + </p> + <p> + I, when I left Paulette’s family, said “So soon!” + </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 “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. + </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 “fools of the family.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But you,” said I, rather astonished; “are you not his friend?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?” + </p> + <p> + “Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I’m going to the ball.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean to leave him alone?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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. “Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for + footbaths, pray?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not leave your comrade to die without help!” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “Let him go to the hospital, then!” + </p> + <p> + “How can he by himself?” + </p> + <p> + Pierre seemed to make up his mind. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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 ‘eau sucree’. He + perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little + ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor,” 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> + “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.” + </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> + “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!” + </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, “a feast for the eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But if this painting is really so precious,” replied I, “it ought to be + worth a high price.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + I started back. + </p> + <p> + “And you have bought it?” cried I. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work of + Jordaens in an ecstasy. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for + admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You are dazzled,” said he merrily; “you did not expect such a treasure! + What do you say to the bargain I have made?” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” replied I, gravely; “but I think you might have done better.” + </p> + <p> + M. Antoine raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “How!” cried he; “do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about the + merit or value of a painting?” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “What then?” + </p> + <p> + “The family itself, sir.” + </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’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. + </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’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’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’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> + “Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!” said she, putting + her hand on the head of the little glutton. + </p> + <p> + “He has had no breakfast,” puts in one of the others by way of excuse. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?” I replied, gently. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Here her eyes filled with tears. + </p> + <p> + “So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?” + resumed I. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Come, my little dears,” she cried, “put these into your pockets against + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + Then, turning to me: + </p> + <p> + “To-day I am ruining myself,” added she; “but we must all have our + Carnival.” + </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—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. + </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—who will advise me? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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’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. + </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’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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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’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. + </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’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: “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!” + </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—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’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! + </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—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’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.” + </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’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.” + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the + others. + </p> + <p> + “We cannot leave him in the street,” said some. + </p> + <p> + “The child-stealers would carry him off,” continued others. + </p> + <p> + “We must take him to the overseer.” + </p> + <p> + “Or to the police-office.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s the thing. Come, little one!” + </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> + “I know him well—I do,” said he, looking at the lost child; “he + belongs in our part of the town.” + </p> + <p> + “What part is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards—Rue des Magasins.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have seen him before?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where + there is an iron gate with gilt points.” + </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> + “Then you can take him to his parents?” asked the mason, who had listened + with real interest to the little boy’s account. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t care if I do,” replied he; “it’s the way I’m going.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will take charge of him?” + </p> + <p> + “He has only to come with me.” + </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> + “I hope he will take him right,” said I, when I saw them go away. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </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’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’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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are, then, become great friends?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I should think so,” said the child; “and now my father is rich too!” + </p> + <p> + “How’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated + his little coat; “and I see that you are head-boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in + the class.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you now going to your lessons?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it is the same as if it were partly your own.” + </p> + <p> + “So it is! Ah! they are good neighbors indeed. But here I am; good-by, + sir.” + </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’ 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? + </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’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. + </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’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’s game, that they “did not think the world was so + great”! + </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 “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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “We really must amuse ourselves,” said she; “we live but once.” + </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> + “We are in the king’s house,” 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,—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, “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. + </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’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. + </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’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’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’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’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—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: “FETE DIEU!” + </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. “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.” + </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 ‘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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </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’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’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’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’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. + </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—[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. + </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’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> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + A stifled voice replied: + </p> + <p> + “God!” + </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, “Father, forgive + them, for they know not what they do.” + </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’s good-will; he perceived it, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to him, + crying out: + </p> + <p> + “Ah! come in—come in! It is he that I thought was dead: it is + Julien; it is my betrothed!” + </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’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’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? + </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’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—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. + </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—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. + </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—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’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. + </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> + “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.” + </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’s dispositions and talents, or a real inequality in + their destinies? A solemn question, as it regards the verification of + God’s impartiality. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’ 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’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’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; “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. + </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’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’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. + </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> + “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?” + </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> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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> + “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!” + </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> + “There is Jean Jacques—there is Rousseau!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ‘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.] +</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’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—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? + </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’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 + ‘Foyer Breton’ who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks at + the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees: + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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? + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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. + </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’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’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. + </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"> + “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.” + </pre> + <p> + This is the answer that the portress dictated to me: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “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.” + </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’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—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. + </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,—[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. + </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> + “Come! come!” cried the former in a rage, “do you intend to pay me, after + all?” + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + The countrywoman looked at him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The drunkard raised his head. + </p> + <p> + “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’.” + </p> + <p> + Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till, and + began to rummage in it. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that my fault?” replied the nurse, angrily. “They owe to me, and + somehow or other they must pay me!” + </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> + “Michael, defend your son!” + </p> + <p> + The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a start. + </p> + <p> + “My son!” stammered he; “what son?” + </p> + <p> + His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over his + features. + </p> + <p> + “Robert,” resumed he; “it is Robert!” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would you do with him?” murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert + against her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, “Wait!” + </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> + “Robert!” cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms. + “Ah! give him me, wife; I must look at him.” + </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> + “How much do we owe you?” 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> + “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.” + </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’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’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! + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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’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. + </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’s neglect. + </p> + <p> + 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! + </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> + “I expected you yesterday,” said Michael Arout, rather dryly. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer again. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “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—” + </p> + <p> + “To go on with your plan of the staircase,” interrupted Michael, + ironically. + </p> + <p> + “You must now say Monsieur Raymond’s plan, father,” replied Robert, + smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I have sold it to him.” + </p> + <p> + The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Sold it!” cried he, with sparkling eyes. + </p> + <p> + “For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him.” + </p> + <p> + Michael threw down the board and tool. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what harm is there done?” asked Genevieve. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + Robert colored a little. + </p> + <p> + “You will think differently, father,” said he, “when you know why I sold + my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you will thank him for it,” added Genevieve, who could no longer + keep silence. + </p> + <p> + “Never!” replied Michael. + </p> + <p> + “But, wretched man!” cried she, “he sold it only for our sakes!” + </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—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: “Be ye like-minded, having + the same love, being of one accord, of one mind.” + </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’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: ‘Tous les + hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet’. + </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—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)—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, + ‘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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here,” I + observed. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a soldier, then?” + </p> + <p> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + I looked at him with astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “And how old were you then, at Jemappes?” asked I. + </p> + <p> + “Somewhere about fifteen,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “How came you to think of being a soldier so early?” + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my + memory. But one day I found him quite grave. + </p> + <p> + “‘Jerome,’ said he, ‘do you know what is going on on the frontier?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘No, lieutenant,’ replied I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well,’ resumed he, ‘our country is in danger!’ + </p> + <p> + “I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me. + </p> + <p> + “‘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!’ + </p> + <p> + “I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes. + </p> + <p> + “‘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.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘You are right, Jerome,’ continued the old soldier; ‘so you comprehend + also what we owe it.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Truly,’ resumed I, ‘we owe it all that we are; it is a question of + love.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘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!’ + </p> + <p> + “‘And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?’ asked I. + </p> + <p> + “‘Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,’ said + he. + </p> + <p> + “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! + </p> + <p> + “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> + “That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I + had cut my wisdom teeth.” + </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’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.—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. + </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> + “See the worth of glory!” says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes in + horror. + </p> + <p> + “What a deplorable use of human life!” rejoins a young man who carries a + volume of philosophy under his arm. + </p> + <p> + “The trooper would better not have left his plow,” adds a countryman, with + a cunning air. + </p> + <p> + “Poor old man!” 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’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> + “They all pity me,” says he, “because they do not understand it; but if I + were to answer them—” + </p> + <p> + “What would you say to them, father?” asks the young man, with curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And what would you say to the countryman, father?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use of + life.” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, when he + saw your maimed body, ‘See the worth of glory!”’ + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + October 16th.—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—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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </p> + <p> + I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” replied he; “the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart + quarries that my arm went to feed.” + </p> + <p> + And when I asked him for the particulars— + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “‘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.’ + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “So you were again without means of living?” said I to the old soldier. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “How was that?” + </p> + <p> + “Among the Paris street-sweepers.” + </p> + <p> + “What! you have been one—” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “‘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.’” + </p> + <p> + “‘However, you ended by leaving your new profession?’ said I.” + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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.” + </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 + “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. + </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’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—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’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> + “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!” + </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—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’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> + “Oh! you may wait,” said the great lady carelessly; “the weather is very + much milder.” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’clock P.M.—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> + “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—” + </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’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’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’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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “‘Nobody just now,’ replied he. + </p> + <p> + “‘But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘The Turreaus;’ said my travelling companion, looking at me; ‘did you + know them?’ + </p> + <p> + “‘I saw them once.’ + </p> + <p> + “He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “‘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.’” + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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—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. + </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’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. + </p> + <p> + 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. + </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’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’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. + </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—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! + </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> + “You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to + receive your thanks and your farewell.” + </p> + <p> + I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter + resentment. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you want thanks,” cried I; “but first let me know what for? + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “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"> + “‘Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here + cannot live again.’” + + ....................... +</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> + “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!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you had given me up, doctor?” asked I, rather alarmed. + </p> + <p> + “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!”’ + </p> + <p> + “May He be blessed then, as well as you,” cried I; “and may my health come + back with the new year!” + </p> + <p> + M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry. + </p> + <p> + “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?” + </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> + “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. + </p> + <p> + “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> + “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> + “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> + “Quinto” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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—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? + </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—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. + </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’s blindness, and disdained him + as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “Can you give me sight?” asked the child. + </p> + <p> + “Fate does not permit it,” said the magician. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” cried the blind boy, eagerly, “I ask you to put out the sun!” + </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—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. + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not mistaken then; you were near me?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + “We must find the cook, too,” replied I, with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “She is found,” said the veteran. + </p> + <p> + “Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Genevieve.” + </p> + <p> + “The fruit-woman?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </p> + <p> + In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door. + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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> + “And the Messieurs Durmer,” asked I, hesitatingly, “how have they taken—the + interruption to my work?” + </p> + <p> + “There has been no interruption,” replied the old clerk, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “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.” + </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’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> + “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.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 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 +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of An “Attic” Philosopher, Complete +by Emile Souvestre + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN “ATTIC” PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3999-h.htm or 3999-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/9/3999/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase “Project +Gutenberg”), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. “Project Gutenberg” is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation (“the Foundation” + or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase “Project Gutenberg” appears, or with which the phrase “Project +Gutenberg” is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase “Project Gutenberg” associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +“Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original “Plain Vanilla ASCII” or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, “Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.” + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +“Defects,” such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the “Right +of Replacement or Refund” described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you ‘AS-IS’ WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm’s +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation’s EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state’s laws. + +The Foundation’s principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation’s web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + +</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 + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 3999.txt or 3999.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/9/9/3999/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +https://gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +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 + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS' WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at https://www.pglaf.org. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at +https://pglaf.org/fundraising. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at https://pglaf.org + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit https://pglaf.org + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including including checks, online payments and credit card +donations. To donate, please visit: https://pglaf.org/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart was the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/3999.zip b/3999.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..1436767 --- /dev/null +++ b/3999.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eeb74f8 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #3999 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/3999) diff --git a/old/im86b10.txt b/old/im86b10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4565e12 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/im86b10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5438 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of "Attic" Philosopher by Souvestre, entire +#86 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy +#4 in our series by Emile Souvestre + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. The words +are carefully chosen to provide users with the information they +need about what they can legally do with the texts. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These Etexts Are Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + +Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and +further information is included below, including for donations. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541 + + + +Title: An "Attic" Philosopher, entire + +Author: Emile Souvestre + +Release Date: April, 2003 [Etext #3999] +[Yes, we are about one year ahead of schedule] +[The actual date this file first posted = 10/02/01] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +The Project Gutenberg Etext of "Attic" Philosopher by Souvestre, entire +**********This file should be named im86b10.txt or im86b10.zip********* + +Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, im86b11.txt +VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, im86b10a.txt + +This etext was produced by David Widger <widger@cecomet.net> + +Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions, +all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a +copyright notice is included. Therefore, we usually do NOT keep any +of these books in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +We are now trying to release all our books one year in advance +of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing. +Please be encouraged to send us error messages even years after +the official publication date. + +Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til +midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement. +The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at +Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A +preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment +and editing by those who wish to do so. + +Most people start at our sites at: +http://gutenberg.net +http://promo.net/pg + + +Those of you who want to download any Etext before announcement +can surf to them as follows, and just download by date; this is +also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the +indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an +announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter. + +http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext03 +or +ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03 + +Or /etext02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90 + +Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want, +as it appears in our Newsletters. + + +Information about Project Gutenberg (one page) + +We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The +time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours +to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright +searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This +projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value +per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2 +million dollars per hour this year as we release fifty new Etext +files per month, or 500 more Etexts in 2000 for a total of 3000+ +If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total +should reach over 300 billion Etexts given away by year's end. + +The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext +Files by December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000 = 1 Trillion] +This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers, +which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users. + +At our revised rates of production, we will reach only one-third +of that goal by the end of 2001, or about 4,000 Etexts unless we +manage to get some real funding. + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created +to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +As of July 12, 2001 contributions are only being solicited from people in: +Arkansas, Colorado, Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Idaho, +Illinois, Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts, Minnesota, +Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, New Mexico, Nevada, New Jersey, New York, North +Carolina, Ohio, Oklahoma, Oregon, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South Dakota, +Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West Virginia, +Wisconsin, and Wyoming. + +We have filed in about 45 states now, but these are the only ones +that have responded. + +As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising +will begin in the additional states. Please feel +free to ask to check the status of your state. + +In answer to various questions we have received on this: + +We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork +to legally request donations in all 50 states. If +your state is not listed and you would like to know +if we have added it since the list you have, just ask. + +While we cannot solicit donations from people in +states where we are not yet registered, we know +of no prohibition against accepting donations +from donors in these states who approach us with +an offer to donate. + + +International donations are accepted, +but we don't know ANYTHING about how +to make them tax-deductible, or +even if they CAN be made deductible, +and don't have the staff to handle it +even if there are ways. + +All donations should be made to: + +Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +PMB 113 +1739 University Ave. +Oxford, MS 38655-4109 + + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a 501(c)(3) +organization with EIN [Employee Identification Number] 64-6221541, +and has been approved as a 501(c)(3) organization by the US Internal +Revenue Service (IRS). Donations are tax-deductible to the maximum +extent permitted by law. As the requirements for other states are met, +additions to this list will be made and fund raising will begin in the +additional states. + +We need your donations more than ever! + +You can get up to date donation information at: + +http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html + + +*** + +If you can't reach Project Gutenberg, +you can always email directly to: + +Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com> + +hart@pobox.com forwards to hart@prairienet.org and archive.org +if your mail bounces from archive.org, I will still see it, if +it bounces from prairienet.org, better resend later on. . . . + +Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message. + +We would prefer to send you information by email. + + +*** + + +Example command-line FTP session: + +ftp ftp.ibiblio.org +login: anonymous +password: your@login +cd pub/docs/books/gutenberg +cd etext90 through etext99 or etext00 through etext02, etc. +dir [to see files] +get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files] +GET GUTINDEX.?? [to get a year's listing of books, e.g., GUTINDEX.99] +GET GUTINDEX.ALL [to get a listing of ALL books] + + +**The Legal Small Print** + + +(Three Pages) + +***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START*** +Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers. +They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with +your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from +someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our +fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement +disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how +you may distribute copies of this etext if you want to. + +*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT +By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm +etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept +this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive +a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by +sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person +you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical +medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request. + +ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS +This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etexts, +is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart +through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project"). +Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright +on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and +distribute it in the United States without permission and +without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth +below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext +under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark. + +Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market +any commercial products without permission. + +To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable +efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain +works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any +medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other +things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other +intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged +disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer +codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment. + +LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES +But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below, +[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may +receive this etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims +all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including +legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR +UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT, +INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE +OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE +POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES. + +If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of +receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any) +you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that +time to the person you received it from. If you received it +on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and +such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement +copy. If you received it electronically, such person may +choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to +receive it electronically. + +THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS +TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT +LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A +PARTICULAR PURPOSE. + +Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or +the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the +above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you +may have other legal rights. + +INDEMNITY +You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation, +and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated +with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm +texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including +legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the +following that you do or cause: [1] distribution of this etext, +[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the etext, +or [3] any Defect. + +DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm" +You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by +disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this +"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg, +or: + +[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this + requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the + etext or this "small print!" statement. You may however, + if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable + binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form, + including any form resulting from conversion by word + processing or hypertext software, but only so long as + *EITHER*: + + [*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and + does *not* contain characters other than those + intended by the author of the work, although tilde + (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may + be used to convey punctuation intended by the + author, and additional characters may be used to + indicate hypertext links; OR + + [*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at + no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent + form by the program that displays the etext (as is + the case, for instance, with most word processors); + OR + + [*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at + no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the + etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC + or other equivalent proprietary form). + +[2] Honor the etext refund and replacement provisions of this + "Small Print!" statement. + +[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the + gross profits you derive calculated using the method you + already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation" + the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were + legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent + periodic) tax return. Please contact us beforehand to + let us know your plans and to work out the details. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of +public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed +in machine readable form. + +The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time, +public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses. +Money should be paid to the: +"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or +software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at: +hart@pobox.com + +[Portions of this header are copyright (C) 2001 by Michael S. Hart +and may be reprinted only when these Etexts are free of all fees.] +[Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be used in any sales +of Project Gutenberg Etexts or other materials be they hardware or +software or any other related product without express permission.] + +*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.07/27/01*END* + + + + + +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 + diff --git a/old/im86b10.zip b/old/im86b10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..92adf12 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/im86b10.zip |