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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:13 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-15 05:17:13 -0700 |
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| tree | 28103d9bedf5fac68d1dec3f3c0184b5907bfa42 /1474-h | |
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diff --git a/1474-h/1474-h.htm b/1474-h/1474-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..af18bbd --- /dev/null +++ b/1474-h/1474-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,2083 @@ +<?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> + The Illustrious Gaudissart, by Honore de Balzac + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; 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; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1474 ***</div> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Honore De Balzac + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + Translated By Katharine Prescott Wormeley + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<h4> + DEDICATION<br /><br /> + + To Madame la Duchesse de Castries. +</h4> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART</b> </a><br /> + </h3> + <h3> + </h3> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <h3> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> ADDENDUM </a> + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + The commercial traveller, a personage unknown to antiquity, is one of the + striking figures created by the manners and customs of our present epoch. + May he not, in some conceivable order of things, be destined to mark for + coming philosophers the great transition which welds a period of material + enterprise to the period of intellectual strength? Our century will bind + the realm of isolated power, abounding as it does in creative genius, to + the realm of universal but levelling might; equalizing all products, + spreading them broadcast among the masses, and being itself controlled by + the principle of unity,—the final expression of all societies. Do we + not find the dead level of barbarism succeeding the saturnalia of popular + thought and the last struggles of those civilizations which accumulated + the treasures of the world in one direction? + </p> + <p> + The commercial traveller! Is he not to the realm of ideas what our + stage-coaches are to men and things? He is their vehicle; he sets them + going, carries them along, rubs them up with one another. He takes from + the luminous centre a handful of light, and scatters it broadcast among + the drowsy populations of the duller regions. This human pyrotechnic is a + scholar without learning, a juggler hoaxed by himself, an unbelieving + priest of mysteries and dogmas, which he expounds all the better for his + want of faith. Curious being! He has seen everything, known everything, + and is up in all the ways of the world. Soaked in the vices of Paris, he + affects to be the fellow-well-met of the provinces. He is the link which + connects the village with the capital; though essentially he is neither + Parisian nor provincial,—he is a traveller. He sees nothing to the + core: men and places he knows by their names; as for things, he looks + merely at their surface, and he has his own little tape-line with which to + measure them. His glance shoots over all things and penetrates none. He + occupies himself with a great deal, yet nothing occupies him. + </p> + <p> + Jester and jolly fellow, he keeps on good terms with all political + opinions, and is patriotic to the bottom of his soul. A capital mimic, he + knows how to put on, turn and turn about, the smiles of persuasion, + satisfaction, and good-nature, or drop them for the normal expression of + his natural man. He is compelled to be an observer of a certain sort in + the interests of his trade. He must probe men with a glance and guess + their habits, wants, and above all their solvency. To economize time he + must come to quick decisions as to his chances of success,—a + practice that makes him more or less a man of judgment; on the strength of + which he sets up as a judge of theatres, and discourses about those of + Paris and the provinces. + </p> + <p> + He knows all the good and bad haunts in France, “de actu et visu.” He can + pilot you, on occasion, to vice or virtue with equal assurance. Blest with + the eloquence of a hot-water spigot turned on at will, he can check or let + run, without floundering, the collection of phrases which he keeps on tap, + and which produce upon his victims the effect of a moral shower-bath. + Loquacious as a cricket, he smokes, drinks, wears a profusion of trinkets, + overawes the common people, passes for a lord in the villages, and never + permits himself to be “stumped,”—a slang expression all his own. He + knows how to slap his pockets at the right time, and make his money jingle + if he thinks the servants of the second-class houses which he wants to + enter (always eminently suspicious) are likely to take him for a thief. + Activity is not the least surprising quality of this human machine. Not + the hawk swooping upon its prey, not the stag doubling before the huntsman + and the hounds, nor the hounds themselves catching scent of the game, can + be compared with him for the rapidity of his dart when he spies a + “commission,” for the agility with which he trips up a rival and gets + ahead of him, for the keenness of his scent as he noses a customer and + discovers the sport where he can get off his wares. + </p> + <p> + How many great qualities must such a man possess! You will find in all + countries many such diplomats of low degree; consummate negotiators + arguing in the interests of calico, jewels, frippery, wines; and often + displaying more true diplomacy than ambassadors themselves, who, for the + most part, know only the forms of it. No one in France can doubt the + powers of the commercial traveller; that intrepid soul who dares all, and + boldly brings the genius of civilization and the modern inventions of + Paris into a struggle with the plain commonsense of remote villages, and + the ignorant and boorish treadmill of provincial ways. Can we ever forget + the skilful manoeuvres by which he worms himself into the minds of the + populace, bringing a volume of words to bear upon the refractory, + reminding us of the indefatigable worker in marbles whose file eats slowly + into a block of porphyry? Would you seek to know the utmost power of + language, or the strongest pressure that a phrase can bring to bear + against rebellious lucre, against the miserly proprietor squatting in the + recesses of his country lair?—listen to one of these great + ambassadors of Parisian industry as he revolves and works and sucks like + an intelligent piston of the steam-engine called Speculation. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said a wise political economist, the director-cashier-manager + and secretary-general of a celebrated fire-insurance company, “out of + every five hundred thousand francs of policies to be renewed in the + provinces, not more than fifty thousand are paid up voluntarily. The other + four hundred and fifty thousand are got in by the activity of our agents, + who go about among those who are in arrears and worry them with stories of + horrible incendiaries until they are driven to sign the new policies. Thus + you see that eloquence, the labial flux, is nine tenths of the ways and + means of our business.” + </p> + <p> + To talk, to make people listen to you,—that is seduction in itself. + A nation that has two Chambers, a woman who lends both ears, are soon + lost. Eve and her serpent are the everlasting myth of an hourly fact which + began, and may end, with the world itself. + </p> + <p> + “A conversation of two hours ought to capture your man,” said a retired + lawyer. + </p> + <p> + Let us walk round the commercial traveller, and look at him well. Don’t + forget his overcoat, olive green, nor his cloak with its morocco collar, + nor the striped blue cotton shirt. In this queer figure—so original + that we cannot rub it out—how many divers personalities we come + across! In the first place, what an acrobat, what a circus, what a + battery, all in one, is the man himself, his vocation, and his tongue! + Intrepid mariner, he plunges in, armed with a few phrases, to catch five + or six thousand francs in the frozen seas, in the domain of the red + Indians who inhabit the interior of France. The provincial fish will not + rise to harpoons and torches; it can only be taken with seines and nets + and gentlest persuasions. The traveller’s business is to extract the gold + in country caches by a purely intellectual operation, and to extract it + pleasantly and without pain. Can you think without a shudder of the flood + of phrases which, day by day, renewed each dawn, leaps in cascades the + length and breadth of sunny France? + </p> + <p> + You know the species; let us now take a look at the individual. + </p> + <p> + There lives in Paris an incomparable commercial traveller, the paragon of + his race, a man who possesses in the highest degree all the qualifications + necessary to the nature of his success. His speech is vitriol and likewise + glue,—glue to catch and entangle his victim and make him sticky and + easy to grip; vitriol to dissolve hard heads, close fists, and closer + calculations. His line was once the <i>hat</i>; but his talents and the + art with which he snared the wariest provincial had brought him such + commercial celebrity that all vendors of the “article Paris”[*] paid court + to him, and humbly begged that he would deign to take their commissions. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [*] “Article Paris” means anything—especially articles of + wearing apparel—which originates or is made in Paris. + The name is supposed to give to the thing a special value in + the provinces. +</pre> + <p> + Thus, when he returned to Paris in the intervals of his triumphant + progress through France, he lived a life of perpetual festivity in the + shape of weddings and suppers. When he was in the provinces, the + correspondents in the smaller towns made much of him; in Paris, the great + houses feted and caressed him. Welcomed, flattered, and fed wherever he + went, it came to pass that to breakfast or to dine alone was a novelty, an + event. He lived the life of a sovereign, or, better still, of a + journalist; in fact, he was the perambulating “feuilleton” of Parisian + commerce. + </p> + <p> + His name was Gaudissart; and his renown, his vogue, the flatteries + showered upon him, were such as to win for him the surname of Illustrious. + Wherever the fellow went,—behind a counter or before a bar, into a + salon or to the top of a stage-coach, up to a garret or to dine with a + banker,—every one said, the moment they saw him, “Ah! here comes the + illustrious Gaudissart!”[*] No name was ever so in keeping with the style, + the manners, the countenance, the voice, the language, of any man. All + things smiled upon our traveller, and the traveller smiled back in return. + “Similia similibus,”—he believed in homoeopathy. Puns, horse-laugh, + monkish face, skin of a friar, true Rabelaisian exterior, clothing, body, + mind, and features, all pulled together to put a devil-may-care jollity + into every inch of his person. Free-handed and easy-going, he might be + recognized at once as the favorite of grisettes, the man who jumps lightly + to the top of a stage-coach, gives a hand to the timid lady who fears to + step down, jokes with the postillion about his neckerchief and contrives + to sell him a cap, smiles at the maid and catches her round the waist or + by the heart; gurgles at dinner like a bottle of wine and pretends to draw + the cork by sounding a filip on his distended cheek; plays a tune with his + knife on the champagne glasses without breaking them, and says to the + company, “Let me see you do <i>that</i>”; chaffs the timid traveller, + contradicts the knowing one, lords it over a dinner-table and manages to + get the titbits for himself. A strong fellow, nevertheless, he can throw + aside all this nonsense and mean business when he flings away the stump of + his cigar and says, with a glance at some town, “I’ll go and see what + those people have got in their stomachs.” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + [*] “Se gaudir,” to enjoy, to make fun. “Gaudriole,” gay + discourse, rather free.—Littre. +</pre> + <p> + When buckled down to his work he became the slyest and cleverest of + diplomats. All things to all men, he knew how to accost a banker like a + capitalist, a magistrate like a functionary, a royalist with pious and + monarchical sentiments, a bourgeois as one of themselves. In short, + wherever he was he was just what he ought to be; he left Gaudissart at the + door when he went in, and picked him up when he came out. + </p> + <p> + Until 1830 the illustrious Gaudissart was faithful to the article Paris. + In his close relation to the caprices of humanity, the varied paths of + commerce had enabled him to observe the windings of the heart of man. He + had learned the secret of persuasive eloquence, the knack of loosening the + tightest purse-strings, the art of rousing desire in the souls of + husbands, wives, children, and servants; and what is more, he knew how to + satisfy it. No one had greater faculty than he for inveigling a merchant + by the charms of a bargain, and disappearing at the instant when desire + had reached its crisis. Full of gratitude to the hat-making trade, he + always declared that it was his efforts in behalf of the exterior of the + human head which had enabled him to understand its interior: he had capped + and crowned so many people, he was always flinging himself at their heads, + etc. His jokes about hats and heads were irrepressible, though perhaps not + dazzling. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless, after August and October, 1830, he abandoned the hat trade + and the article Paris, and tore himself from things mechanical and visible + to mount into the higher spheres of Parisian speculation. “He forsook,” to + use his own words, “matter for mind; manufactured products for the + infinitely purer elaborations of human intelligence.” This requires some + explanation. + </p> + <p> + The general upset of 1830 brought to birth, as everybody knows, a number + of old ideas which clever speculators tried to pass off in new bodies. + After 1830 ideas became property. A writer, too wise to publish his + writings, once remarked that “more ideas are stolen than + pocket-handkerchiefs.” Perhaps in course of time we may have an Exchange + for thought; in fact, even now ideas, good or bad, have their consols, are + bought up, imported, exported, sold, and quoted like stocks. If ideas are + not on hand ready for sale, speculators try to pass off words in their + stead, and actually live upon them as a bird lives on the seeds of his + millet. Pray do not laugh; a word is worth quite as much as an idea in a + land where the ticket on a sack is of more importance than the contents. + Have we not seen libraries working off the word “picturesque” when + literature would have cut the throat of the word “fantastic”? Fiscal + genius has guessed the proper tax on intellect; it has accurately + estimated the profits of advertising; it has registered a prospectus of + the quantity and exact value of the property, weighing its thought at the + intellectual Stamp Office in the Rue de la Paix. + </p> + <p> + Having become an article of commerce, intellect and all its products must + naturally obey the laws which bind other manufacturing interests. Thus it + often happens that ideas, conceived in their cups by certain apparently + idle Parisians,—who nevertheless fight many a moral battle over + their champagne and their pheasants,—are handed down at their birth + from the brain to the commercial travellers who are employed to spread + them discreetly, “urbi et orbi,” through Paris and the provinces, seasoned + with the fried pork of advertisement and prospectus, by means of which + they catch in their rat-trap the departmental rodent commonly called + subscriber, sometimes stockholder, occasionally corresponding member or + patron, but invariably fool. + </p> + <p> + “I am a fool!” many a poor country proprietor has said when, caught by the + prospect of being the first to launch a new idea, he finds that he has, in + point of fact, launched his thousand or twelve hundred francs into a gulf. + </p> + <p> + “Subscribers are fools who never can be brought to understand that to go + ahead in the intellectual world they must start with more money than they + need for the tour of Europe,” say the speculators. + </p> + <p> + Consequently there is endless warfare between the recalcitrant public + which refuses to pay the Parisian imposts and the tax-gatherer who, living + by his receipt of custom, lards the public with new ideas, turns it on the + spit of lively projects, roasts it with prospectuses (basting all the + while with flattery), and finally gobbles it up with some toothsome sauce + in which it is caught and intoxicated like a fly with a black-lead. + Moreover, since 1830 what honors and emoluments have been scattered + throughout France to stimulate the zeal and self-love of the “progressive + and intelligent masses”! Titles, medals, diplomas, a sort of legion of + honor invented for the army of martyrs, have followed each other with + marvellous rapidity. Speculators in the manufactured products of the + intellect have developed a spice, a ginger, all their own. From this have + come premiums, forestalled dividends, and that conscription of noted names + which is levied without the knowledge of the unfortunate writers who bear + them, and who thus find themselves actual co-operators in more enterprises + than there are days in the year; for the law, we may remark, takes no + account of the theft of a patronymic. Worse than all is the rape of ideas + which these caterers for the public mind, like the slave-merchants of + Asia, tear from the paternal brain before they are well matured, and drag + half-clothed before the eyes of their blockhead of a sultan, their + Shahabaham, their terrible public, which, if they don’t amuse it, will cut + off their heads by curtailing the ingots and emptying their pockets. + </p> + <p> + This madness of our epoch reacted upon the illustrious Gaudissart, and + here follows the history of how it happened. A life-insurance company + having been told of his irresistible eloquence offered him an unheard-of + commission, which he graciously accepted. The bargain concluded and the + treaty signed, our traveller was put in training, or we might say weaned, + by the secretary-general of the enterprise, who freed his mind of its + swaddling-clothes, showed him the dark holes of the business, taught him + its dialect, took the mechanism apart bit by bit, dissected for his + instruction the particular public he was expected to gull, crammed him + with phrases, fed him with impromptu replies, provisioned him with + unanswerable arguments, and, so to speak, sharpened the file of the tongue + which was about to operate upon the life of France. + </p> + <p> + The puppet amply rewarded the pains bestowed upon him. The heads of the + company boasted of the illustrious Gaudissart, showed him such attention + and proclaimed the great talents of this perambulating prospectus so + loudly in the sphere of exalted banking and commercial diplomacy, that the + financial managers of two newspapers (celebrated at that time but since + defunct) were seized with the idea of employing him to get subscribers. + The proprietors of the “Globe,” an organ of Saint-Simonism, and the + “Movement,” a republican journal, each invited the illustrious Gaudissart + to a conference, and proposed to give him ten francs a head for every + subscriber, provided he brought in a thousand, but only five francs if he + got no more than five hundred. The cause of political journalism not + interfering with the pre-accepted cause of life insurance, the bargain was + struck; although Gaudissart demanded an indemnity from the Saint-Simonians + for the eight days he was forced to spend in studying the doctrines of + their apostle, asserting that a prodigious effort of memory and intellect + was necessary to get to the bottom of that “article” and to reason upon it + suitably. He asked nothing, however, from the republicans. In the first + place, he inclined in republican ideas,—the only ones, according to + guadissardian philosophy, which could bring about a rational equality. + Besides which he had already dipped into the conspiracies of the French + “carbonari”; he had been arrested, and released for want of proof; and + finally, as he called the newspaper proprietors to observe, he had lately + grown a mustache, and needed only a hat of certain shape and a pair of + spurs to represent, with due propriety, the Republic. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + For one whole week this commanding genius went every morning to be + Saint-Simonized at the office of the “Globe,” and every afternoon he + betook himself to the life-insurance company, where he learned the + intricacies of financial diplomacy. His aptitude and his memory were + prodigious; so that he was able to start on his peregrinations by the 15th + of April, the date at which he usually opened the spring campaign. Two + large commercial houses, alarmed at the decline of business, implored the + ambitious Gaudissart not to desert the article Paris, and seduced him, it + was said, with large offers, to take their commissions once more. The king + of travellers was amenable to the claims of his old friends, enforced as + they were by the enormous premiums offered to him. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + “Listen, my little Jenny,” he said in a hackney-coach to a pretty florist. + </p> + <p> + All truly great men delight in allowing themselves to be tyrannized over + by a feeble being, and Gaudissart had found his tyrant in Jenny. He was + bringing her home at eleven o’clock from the Gymnase, whither he had taken + her, in full dress, to a proscenium box on the first tier. + </p> + <p> + “On my return, Jenny, I shall refurnish your room in superior style. That + big Matilda, who pesters you with comparisons and her real India shawls + imported by the suite of the Russian ambassador, and her silver plate and + her Russian prince,—who to my mind is nothing but a humbug,—won’t + have a word to say <i>then</i>. I consecrate to the adornment of your room + all the ‘Children’ I shall get in the provinces.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that’s a pretty thing to say!” cried the florist. “Monster of a + man! Do you dare to talk to me of your children? Do you suppose I am going + to stand that sort of thing?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a goose you are, my Jenny! That’s only a figure of speech in our + business.” + </p> + <p> + “A fine business, then!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but listen; if you talk all the time you’ll always be in the + right.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to be. Upon my word, you take things easy!” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t let me finish. I have taken under my protection a superlative + idea,—a journal, a newspaper, written for children. In our + profession, when travellers have caught, let us suppose, ten subscribers + to the ‘Children’s Journal,’ they say, ‘I’ve got ten Children,’ just as I + say when I get ten subscriptions to a newspaper called the ‘Movement,’ + ‘I’ve got ten Movements.’ Now don’t you see?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all right. Are you going into politics? If you do you’ll get into + Saint-Pelagie, and I shall have to trot down there after you. Oh! if one + only knew what one puts one’s foot into when we love a man, on my word of + honor we would let you alone to take care of yourselves, you men! However, + if you are going away to-morrow we won’t talk of disagreeable things,—that + would be silly.” + </p> + <p> + The coach stopped before a pretty house, newly built in the Rue d’Artois, + where Gaudissart and Jenny climbed to the fourth story. This was the abode + of Mademoiselle Jenny Courand, commonly reported to be privately married + to the illustrious Gaudissart, a rumor which that individual did not deny. + To maintain her supremacy, Jenny kept him to the performance of + innumerable small attentions, and threatened continually to turn him off + if he omitted the least of them. She now ordered him to write to her from + every town, and render a minute account of all his proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “How many ‘Children’ will it take to furnish my chamber?” she asked, + throwing off her shawl and sitting down by a good fire. + </p> + <p> + “I get five sous for each subscriber.” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful! And is it with five sous that you expect to make me rich? + Perhaps you are like the Wandering Jew with your pockets full of money.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Jenny, I shall get a thousand ‘Children.’ Just reflect that children + have never had a newspaper to themselves before. But what a fool I am to + try to explain matters to you,—you can’t understand such things.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t I? Then tell me,—tell me, Gaudissart, if I’m such a goose why + do you love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Just because you are a goose,—a sublime goose! Listen, Jenny. See + here, I am going to undertake the ‘Globe,’ the ‘Movement,’ the ‘Children,’ + the insurance business, and some of my old articles Paris; instead of + earning a miserable eight thousand a year, I’ll bring back twenty thousand + at least from each trip.” + </p> + <p> + “Unlace me, Gaudissart, and do it right; don’t tighten me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, truly,” said the traveller, complacently; “I shall become a + shareholder in the newspapers, like Finot, one of my friends, the son of a + hatter, who now has thirty thousand francs income, and is going to make + himself a peer of France. When one thinks of that little Popinot,—ah, + mon Dieu! I forgot to tell you that Monsieur Popinot was named minister of + commerce yesterday. Why shouldn’t I be ambitious too? Ha! ha! I could + easily pick up the jargon of those fellows who talk in the chamber, and + bluster with the rest of them. Now, listen to me:— + </p> + <p> + “Gentlemen,” he said, standing behind a chair, “the Press is neither a + tool nor an article of barter: it is, viewed under its political aspects, + an institution. We are bound, in virtue of our position as legislators, to + consider all things politically, and therefore” (here he stopped to get + breath)—“and therefore we must examine the Press and ask ourselves + if it is useful or noxious, if it should be encouraged or put down, taxed + or free. These are serious questions. I feel that I do not waste the time, + always precious, of this Chamber by examining this article—the Press—and + explaining to you its qualities. We are on the verge of an abyss. + Undoubtedly the laws have not the nap which they ought to have—Hein?” + he said, looking at Jenny. “All orators put France on the verge of an + abyss. They either say that or they talk about the chariot of state, or + convulsions, or political horizons. Don’t I know their dodges? I’m up to + all the tricks of all the trades. Do you know why? Because I was born with + a caul; my mother has got it, but I’ll give it to you. You’ll see! I shall + soon be in the government.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn’t I be the Baron Gaudissart, peer of France? Haven’t they + twice elected Monsieur Popinot as deputy from the fourth arrondissement? + He dines with Louis Phillippe. There’s Finot; he is going to be, they say, + a member of the Council. Suppose they send me as ambassador to London? I + tell you I’d nonplus those English! No man ever got the better of + Gaudissart, the illustrious Gaudissart, and nobody ever will. Yes, I say + it! no one ever outwitted me, and no one can—in any walk of life, + politics or impolitics, here or elsewhere. But, for the time being, I must + give myself wholly to the capitalists; to the ‘Globe,’ the ‘Movement,’ the + ‘Children,’ and my article Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be brought up with a round turn, you and your newspapers. I’ll + bet you won’t get further than Poitiers before the police will nab you.” + </p> + <p> + “What will you bet?” + </p> + <p> + “A shawl.” + </p> + <p> + “Done! If I lose that shawl I’ll go back to the article Paris and the hat + business. But as for getting the better of Gaudissart—never! never!” + </p> + <p> + And the illustrious traveller threw himself into position before Jenny, + looked at her proudly, one hand in his waistcoat, his head at + three-quarter profile,—an attitude truly Napoleonic. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how funny you are! what have you been eating to-night?” + </p> + <p> + Gaudissart was thirty-eight years of age, of medium height, stout and fat + like men who roll about continually in stage-coaches, with a face as round + as a pumpkin, ruddy cheeks, and regular features of the type which + sculptors of all lands adopt as a model for statues of Abundance, Law, + Force, Commerce, and the like. His protuberant stomach swelled forth in + the shape of a pear; his legs were small, but active and vigorous. He + caught Jenny up in his arms like a baby and kissed her. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, young woman!” he said. “What do you know about + Saint-Simonism, antagonism, Fourierism, criticism, heroic enterprise, or + woman’s freedom? I’ll tell you what they are,—ten francs for each + subscription, Madame Gaudissart.” + </p> + <p> + “On my word of honor, you are going crazy, Gaudissart.” + </p> + <p> + “More and more crazy about <i>you</i>,” he replied, flinging his hat upon + the sofa. + </p> + <p> + The next morning Gaudissart, having breakfasted gloriously with Jenny, + departed on horseback to work up the chief towns of the district to which + he was assigned by the various enterprises in whose interests he was now + about to exercise his great talents. After spending forty-five days in + beating up the country between Paris and Blois, he remained two weeks at + the latter place to write up his correspondence and make short visits to + the various market towns of the department. The night before he left Blois + for Tours he indited a letter to Mademoiselle Jenny Courand. As the + conciseness and charm of this epistle cannot be equalled by any narration + of ours, and as, moreover, it proves the legitimacy of the tie which + united these two individuals, we produce it here:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “My dear Jenny,—You will lose your wager. Like Napoleon, + Gaudissart the illustrious has his star, but <i>not</i> his Waterloo. I + triumph everywhere. Life insurance has done well. Between Paris + and Blois I lodged two millions. But as I get to the centre of + France heads become infinitely harder and millions correspondingly + scarce. The article Paris keeps up its own little jog-trot. It is + a ring on the finger. With all my well-known cunning I spit these + shop-keepers like larks. I got off one hundred and sixty-two + Ternaux shawls at Orleans. I am sure I don’t know what they will + do with them, unless they return them to the backs of the sheep. + + “As to the article journal—the devil! that’s a horse of another + color. Holy saints! how one has to warble before you can teach + these bumpkins a new tune. I have only made sixty-two ‘Movements’: + exactly a hundred less for the whole trip than the shawls in one + town. Those republican rogues! they won’t subscribe. They talk, + they talk; they share your opinions, and presently you are all + agreed that every existing thing must be overturned. You feel sure + your man is going to subscribe. Not a bit of it! If he owns three + feet of ground, enough to grow ten cabbages, or a few trees to + slice into toothpicks, the fellow begins to talk of consolidated + property, taxes, revenues, indemnities,—a whole lot of stuff, and + I have wasted my time and breath on patriotism. It’s a bad + business! Candidly, the ‘Movement’ does not move. I have written + to the directors and told them so. I am sorry for it—on account + of my political opinions. + + “As for the ‘Globe,’ that’s another breed altogether. Just set to + work and talk new doctrines to people you fancy are fools enough + to believe such lies,—why, they think you want to burn their + houses down! It is vain for me to tell them that I speak for + futurity, for posterity, for self-interest properly understood; + for enterprise where nothing can be lost; that man has preyed upon + man long enough; that woman is a slave; that the great + providential thought should be made to triumph; that a way must be + found to arrive at a rational co-ordination of the social fabric, + —in short, the whole reverberation of my sentences. Well, what do + you think? when I open upon them with such ideas these provincials + lock their cupboards as if I wanted to steal their spoons and beg + me to go away! Are not they fools? geese? The ‘Globe’ is smashed. + I said to the proprietors, ‘You are too advanced, you go ahead too + fast: you ought to get a few results; the provinces like results.’ + However, I have made a hundred ‘Globes,’ and I must say, + considering the thick-headedness of these clodhoppers, it is a + miracle. But to do it I had to make them such a lot of promises + that I am sure I don’t know how the globites, globists, globules, + or whatever they call themselves, will ever get out of them. But + they always tell me they can make the world a great deal better + than it is, so I go ahead and prophesy to the value of ten francs + for each subscription. There was one farmer who thought the paper + was agricultural because of its name. I Globed <i>him</i>. Bah! he gave + in at once; he had a projecting forehead; all men with projecting + foreheads are ideologists. + + “But the ‘Children’; oh! ah! as to the ‘Children’! I got two + thousand between Paris and Blois. Jolly business! but there is not + much to say. You just show a little vignette to the mother, + pretending to hide it from the child: naturally the child wants to + see, and pulls mamma’s gown and cries for its newspaper, because + ‘Papa has <i>dot</i> his.’ Mamma can’t let her brat tear the gown; the + gown costs thirty francs, the subscription six—economy; result, + subscription. It is an excellent thing, meets an actual want; it + holds a place between dolls and sugar-plums, the two eternal + necessities of childhood. + + “I have had a quarrel here at the table d’hote about the + newspapers and my opinions. I was unsuspiciously eating my dinner + next to a man with a gray hat who was reading the ‘Debats.’ I said + to myself, ‘Now for my rostrum eloquence. He is tied to the + dynasty; I’ll cook him; this triumph will be capital practice for + my ministerial talents.’ So I went to work and praised his + ‘Debats.’ Hein! if I didn’t lead him along! Thread by thread, I + began to net my man. I launched my four-horse phrases, and the + F-sharp arguments, and all the rest of the cursed stuff. Everybody + listened; and I saw a man who had July as plain as day on his + mustache, just ready to nibble at a ‘Movement.’ Well, I don’t know + how it was, but I unluckily let fall the word ‘blockhead.’ + Thunder! you should have seen my gray hat, my dynastic hat + (shocking bad hat, anyhow), who got the bit in his teeth and was + furiously angry. I put on my grand air—you know—and said to him: + ‘Ah, ca! Monsieur, you are remarkably aggressive; if you are not + content, I am ready to give you satisfaction; I fought in July.’ + ‘Though the father of a family,’ he replied, ‘I am ready—’ + ‘Father of a family!’ I exclaimed; ‘my dear sir, have you any + children?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Twelve years old?’ ‘Just about.’ ‘Well, then, + the “Children’s Journal” is the very thing for you; six francs a + year, one number a month, double columns, edited by great literary + lights, well got up, good paper, engravings from charming sketches + by our best artists, actual colored drawings of the Indies—will + not fade.’ I fired my broadside ‘feelings of a father, etc., + etc.,’—in short, a subscription instead of a quarrel. ‘There’s + nobody but Gaudissart who can get out of things like that,’ said + that little cricket Lamard to the big Bulot at the cafe, when he + told him the story. + + “I leave to-morrow for Amboise. I shall do up Amboise in two days, + and I will write next from Tours, where I shall measure swords + with the inhabitants of that colorless region; colorless, I mean, + from the intellectual and speculative point of view. But, on the + word of a Gaudissart, they shall be toppled over, toppled down + —floored, I say. + + “Adieu, my kitten. Love me always; be faithful; fidelity through + thick and thin is one of the attributes of the Free Woman. Who is + kissing you on the eyelids? + + “Thy Felix Forever.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + Five days later Gaudissart started from the Hotel des Faisans, at which he + had put up in Tours, and went to Vouvray, a rich and populous district + where the public mind seemed to him susceptible of cultivation. Mounted + upon his horse, he trotted along the embankment thinking no more of his + phrases than an actor thinks of his part which he has played for a hundred + times. It was thus that the illustrious Gaudissart went his cheerful way, + admiring the landscape, and little dreaming that in the happy valleys of + Vouvray his commercial infallibility was about to perish. + </p> + <p> + Here a few remarks upon the public mind of Touraine are essential to our + story. The subtle, satirical, epigrammatic tale-telling spirit stamped on + every page of Rabelais is the faithful expression of the Tourangian mind,—a + mind polished and refined as it should be in a land where the kings of + France long held their court; ardent, artistic, poetic, voluptuous, yet + whose first impulses subside quickly. The softness of the atmosphere, the + beauty of the climate, a certain ease of life and joviality of manners, + smother before long the sentiment of art, narrow the widest heart, and + enervate the strongest will. Transplant the Tourangian, and his fine + qualities develop and lead to great results, as we may see in many spheres + of action: look at Rabelais and Semblancay, Plantin the printer and + Descartes, Boucicault, the Napoleon of his day, and Pinaigrier, who + painted most of the colored glass in our cathedrals; also Verville and + Courier. But the Tourangian, distinguished though he may be in other + regions, sits in his own home like an Indian on his mat or a Turk on his + divan. He employs his wit in laughing at his neighbor and in making merry + all his days; and when at last he reaches the end of his life, he is still + a happy man. Touraine is like the Abbaye of Theleme, so vaunted in the + history of Gargantua. There we may find the complying sisterhoods of that + famous tale, and there the good cheer celebrated by Rabelais reigns in + glory. + </p> + <p> + As to the do-nothingness of that blessed land it is sublime and well + expressed in a certain popular legend: “Tourangian, are you hungry, do you + want some soup?” “Yes.” “Bring your porringer.” “Then I am not hungry.” Is + it to the joys of the vineyard and the harmonious loveliness of this + garden land of France, is it to the peace and tranquillity of a region + where the step of an invader has never trodden, that we owe the soft + compliance of these unconstrained and easy manners? To such questions no + answer. Enter this Turkey of sunny France, and you will stay there,—lazy, + idle, happy. You may be as ambitious as Napoleon, as poetic as Lord Byron, + and yet a power unknown, invisible, will compel you to bury your poetry + within your soul and turn your projects into dreams. + </p> + <p> + The illustrious Gaudissart was fated to encounter here in Vouvray one of + those indigenous jesters whose jests are not intolerable solely because + they have reached the perfection of the mocking art. Right or wrong, the + Tourangians are fond of inheriting from their parents. Consequently the + doctrines of Saint-Simon were especially hated and villified among them. + In Touraine hatred and villification take the form of superb disdain and + witty maliciousness worthy of the land of good stories and practical + jokes,—a spirit which, alas! is yielding, day by day, to that other + spirit which Lord Byron has characterized as “English cant.” + </p> + <p> + For his sins, after getting down at the Soleil d’Or, an inn kept by a + former grenadier of the imperial guard named Mitouflet, married to a rich + widow, the illustrious traveller, after a brief consultation with the + landlord, betook himself to the knave of Vouvray, the jovial merry-maker, + the comic man of the neighborhood, compelled by fame and nature to supply + the town with merriment. This country Figaro was once a dyer, and now + possessed about seven or eight thousand francs a year, a pretty house on + the slope of the hill, a plump little wife, and robust health. For ten + years he had had nothing to do but take care of his wife and his garden, + marry his daughter, play whist in the evenings, keep the run of all the + gossip in the neighborhood, meddle with the elections, squabble with the + large proprietors, and order good dinners; or else trot along the + embankment to find out what was going on in Tours, torment the cure, and + finally, by way of dramatic entertainment, assist at the sale of lands in + the neighborhood of his vineyards. In short, he led the true Tourangian + life,—the life of a little country-townsman. He was, moreover, an + important member of the bourgeoisie,—a leader among the small + proprietors, all of them envious, jealous, delighted to catch up and + retail gossip and calumnies against the aristocracy; dragging things down + to their own level; and at war with all kinds of superiority, which they + deposited with the fine composure of ignorance. Monsieur Vernier—such + was the name of this great little man—was just finishing his + breakfast, with his wife and daughter on either side of him, when + Gaudissart entered the room through a window that looked out on the Loire + and the Cher, and lighted one of the gayest dining-rooms of that gay land. + </p> + <p> + “Is this Monsieur Vernier himself?” said the traveller, bending his + vertebral column with such grace that it seemed to be elastic. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur,” said the mischievous ex-dyer, with a scrutinizing look + which took in the style of man he had to deal with. + </p> + <p> + “I come, Monsieur,” resumed Gaudissart, “to solicit the aid of your + knowledge and insight to guide my efforts in this district, where + Mitouflet tells me you have the greatest influence. Monsieur, I am sent + into the provinces on an enterprise of the utmost importance, undertaken + by bankers who—” + </p> + <p> + “Who mean to win our tricks,” said Vernier, long used to the ways of + commercial travellers and to their periodical visits. + </p> + <p> + “Precisely,” replied Gaudissart, with native impudence. “But with your + fine tact, Monsieur, you must be aware that we can’t win tricks from + people unless it is their interest to play at cards. I beg you not to + confound me with the vulgar herd of travellers who succeed by humbug or + importunity. I am no longer a commercial traveller. I was one, and I glory + in it; but to-day my mission is of higher importance, and should place me, + in the minds of superior people, among those who devote themselves to the + enlightenment of their country. The most distinguished bankers in Paris + take part in this affair; not fictitiously, as in some shameful + speculations which I call rat-traps. No, no, nothing of the kind! I should + never condescend—never!—to hawk about such <i>catch-fools</i>. + No, Monsieur; the most respectable houses in Paris are concerned in this + enterprise; and their interests guarantee—” + </p> + <p> + Hereupon Gaudissart drew forth his whole string of phrases, and Monsieur + Vernier let him go the length of his tether, listening with apparent + interest which completely deceived him. But after the word “guarantee” + Vernier paid no further attention to our traveller’s rhetoric, and turned + over in his mind how to play him some malicious trick and deliver a land, + justly considered half-savage by speculators unable to get a bite of it, + from the inroads of these Parisian caterpillars. + </p> + <p> + At the head of an enchanting valley, called the Valley Coquette because of + its windings and the curves which return upon each other at every step, + and seem more and more lovely as we advance, whether we ascend or descend + them, there lived, in a little house surrounded by vineyards, a + half-insane man named Margaritis. He was of Italian origin, married, but + childless; and his wife took care of him with a courage fully appreciated + by the neighborhood. Madame Margaritis was undoubtedly in real danger from + a man who, among other fancies, persisted in carrying about with him two + long-bladed knives with which he sometimes threatened her. Who has not + seen the wonderful self-devotion shown by provincials who consecrate their + lives to the care of sufferers, possibly because of the disgrace heaped + upon a bourgeoise if she allows her husband or children to be taken to a + public hospital? Moreover, who does not know the repugnance which these + people feel to the payment of the two or three thousand francs required at + Charenton or in the private lunatic asylums? If any one had spoken to + Madame Margaritis of Doctors Dubuisson, Esquirol, Blanche, and others, she + would have preferred, with noble indignation, to keep her thousands and + take care of the “good-man” at home. + </p> + <p> + As the incomprehensible whims of this lunatic are connected with the + current of our story, we are compelled to exhibit the most striking of + them. Margaritis went out as soon as it rained, and walked about + bare-headed in his vineyard. At home he made incessant inquiries for + newspapers; to satisfy him his wife and the maid-servant used to give him + an old journal called the “Indre-et-Loire,” and for seven years he had + never yet perceived that he was reading the same number over and over + again. Perhaps a doctor would have observed with interest the connection + that evidently existed between the recurring and spasmodic demands for the + newspaper and the atmospheric variations of the weather. + </p> + <p> + Usually when his wife had company, which happened nearly every evening, + for the neighbors, pitying her situation, would frequently come to play at + boston in her salon, Margaritis remained silent in a corner and never + stirred. But the moment ten o’clock began to strike on a clock which he + kept shut up in a large oblong closet, he rose at the stroke with the + mechanical precision of the figures which are made to move by springs in + the German toys. He would then advance slowly towards the players, give + them a glance like the automatic gaze of the Greeks and Turks exhibited on + the Boulevard du Temple, and say sternly, “Go away!” There were days when + he had lucid intervals and could give his wife excellent advice as to the + sale of their wines; but at such times he became extremely annoying, and + would ransack her closets and steal her delicacies, which he devoured in + secret. Occasionally, when the usual visitors made their appearance he + would treat them with civility; but as a general thing his remarks and + replies were incoherent. For instance, a lady once asked him, “How do you + feel to-day, Monsieur Margaritis?” “I have grown a beard,” he replied, + “have you?” “Are you better?” asked another. “Jerusalem! Jerusalem!” was + the answer. But the greater part of the time he gazed stolidly at his + guests without uttering a word; and then his wife would say, “The good-man + does not hear anything to-day.” + </p> + <p> + On two or three occasions in the course of five years, and usually about + the time of the equinox, this remark had driven him to frenzy; he + flourished his knives and shouted, “That joke dishonors me!” + </p> + <p> + As for his daily life, he ate, drank, and walked about like other men in + sound health; and so it happened that he was treated with about the same + respect and attention that we give to a heavy piece of furniture. Among + his many absurdities was one of which no man had as yet discovered the + object, although by long practice the wiseheads of the community had + learned to unravel the meaning of most of his vagaries. He insisted on + keeping a sack of flour and two puncheons of wine in the cellar of his + house, and he would allow no one to lay hands on them. But then the month + of June came round he grew uneasy with the restless anxiety of a madman + about the sale of the sack and the puncheons. Madame Margaritis could + nearly always persuade him that the wine had been sold at an enormous + price, which she paid over to him, and which he hid so cautiously that + neither his wife nor the servant who watched him had ever been able to + discover its hiding-place. + </p> + <p> + The evening before Gaudissart reached Vouvray Madame Margaritis had had + more difficulty than usual in deceiving her husband, whose mind happened + to be uncommonly lucid. + </p> + <p> + “I really don’t know how I shall get through to-morrow,” she had said to + Madame Vernier. “Would you believe it, the good-man insists on watching + his two casks of wine. He has worried me so this whole day, that I had to + show him two full puncheons. Our neighbor, Pierre Champlain, fortunately + had two which he had not sold. I asked him to kindly let me have them + rolled into our cellar; and oh, dear! now that the good-man has seen them + he insists on bottling them off himself!” + </p> + <p> + Madame Vernier had related the poor woman’s trouble to her husband just + before the entrance of Gaudissart, and at the first words of the famous + traveller Vernier determined that he should be made to grapple with + Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the ex-dyer, as soon as the illustrious Gaudissart had + fired his first broadside, “I will not hide from you the great + difficulties which my native place offers to your enterprise. This part of + the country goes along, as it were, in the rough,—‘suo modo.’ It is + a country where new ideas don’t take hold. We live as our fathers lived, + we amuse ourselves with four meals a day, and we cultivate our vineyards + and sell our wines to the best advantage. Our business principle is to + sell things for more than they cost us; we shall stick in that rut, and + neither God nor the devil can get us out of it. I will, however, give you + some advice, and good advice is an egg in the hand. There is in this town + a retired banker in whose wisdom I have—I, particularly—the + greatest confidence. If you can obtain his support, I will add mine. If + your proposals have real merit, if we are convinced of the advantage of + your enterprise, the approval of Monsieur Margaritis (which carries with + it mine) will open to you at least twenty rich houses in Vouvray who will + be glad to try your specifics.” + </p> + <p> + When Madame Vernier heard the name of the lunatic she raised her head and + looked at her husband. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, precisely; my wife intends to call on Madame Margaritis with one of + our neighbors. Wait a moment, and you can accompany these ladies—You + can pick up Madame Fontanieu on your way,” said the wily dyer, winking at + his wife. + </p> + <p> + To pick out the greatest gossip, the sharpest tongue, the most inveterate + cackler of the neighborhood! It meant that Madame Vernier was to take a + witness to the scene between the traveller and the lunatic which should + keep the town in laughter for a month. Monsieur and Madame Vernier played + their part so well that Gaudissart had no suspicions, and straightway fell + into the trap. He gallantly offered his arm to Madame Vernier, and + believed that he made, as they went along, the conquest of both ladies, + for those benefit he sparkled with wit and humor and undetected puns. + </p> + <p> + The house of the pretended banker stood at the entrance to the Valley + Coquette. The place, called La Fuye, had nothing remarkable about it. On + the ground floor was a large wainscoted salon, on either side of which + opened the bedroom of the good-man and that of his wife. The salon was + entered from an ante-chamber, which served as the dining-room and + communicated with the kitchen. This lower door, which was wholly without + the external charm usually seen even in the humblest dwellings in + Touraine, was covered by a mansard story, reached by a stairway built on + the outside of the house against the gable end and protected by a + shed-roof. A little garden, full of marigolds, syringas, and elder-bushes, + separated the house from the fields; and all around the courtyard were + detached buildings which were used in the vintage season for the various + processes of making wine. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + Margaritis was seated in an arm-chair covered with yellow Utrecht velvet, + near the window of the salon, and he did not stir as the two ladies + entered with Gaudissart. His thoughts were running on the casks of wine. + He was a spare man, and his bald head, garnished with a few spare locks at + the back of it, was pear-shaped in conformation. His sunken eyes, + overtopped by heavy black brows and surrounded by discolored circles, his + nose, thin and sharp like the blade of a knife, the strongly marked + jawbone, the hollow cheeks, and the oblong tendency of all these lines, + together with his unnaturally long and flat chin, contributed to give a + peculiar expression to his countenance,—something between that of a + retired professor of rhetoric and a rag-picker. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Margaritis,” cried Madame Vernier, addressing him, “come, stir + about! Here is a gentleman whom my husband sends to you, and you must + listen to him with great attention. Put away your mathematics and talk to + him.” + </p> + <p> + On hearing these words the lunatic rose, looked at Gaudissart, made him a + sign to sit down, and said, “Let us converse, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + The two women went into Madame Margaritis’ bedroom, leaving the door open + so as to hear the conversation, and interpose if it became necessary. They + were hardly installed before Monsieur Vernier crept softly up through the + field and, opening a window, got into the bedroom without noise. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur has doubtless been in business—?” began Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “Public business,” answered Margaritis, interrupting him. “I pacificated + Calabria under the reign of King Murat.” + </p> + <p> + “Bless me! if he hasn’t gone to Calabria!” whispered Monsieur Vernier. + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Gaudissart, “we shall quickly understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + “I am listening,” said Margaritis, striking the attitude taken by a man + when he poses to a portrait-painter. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Gaudissart, who chanced to be turning his watch-key with + a rotatory and periodical click which caught the attention of the lunatic + and contributed no doubt to keep him quiet. “Monsieur, if you were not a + man of superior intelligence” (the fool bowed), “I should content myself + with merely laying before you the material advantages of this enterprise, + whose psychological aspects it would be a waste of time to explain to you. + Listen! Of all kinds of social wealth, is not time the most precious? To + economize time is, consequently, to become wealthy. Now, is there anything + that consumes so much time as those anxieties which I call ‘pot-boiling’?—a + vulgar expression, but it puts the whole question in a nutshell. For + instance, what can eat up more time than the inability to give proper + security to persons from whom you seek to borrow money when, poor at the + moment, you are nevertheless rich in hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Money,—yes, that’s right,” said Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Monsieur, I am sent into the departments by a company of bankers + and capitalists, who have apprehended the enormous waste which rising men + of talent are thus making of time, and, consequently, of intelligence and + productive ability. We have seized the idea of capitalizing for such men + their future prospects, and cashing their talents by discounting—what? + <i>time</i>; securing the value of it to their survivors. I may say that + it is no longer a question of economizing time, but of giving it a price, + a quotation; of representing in a pecuniary sense those products developed + by time which presumably you possess in the region of your intellect; of + representing also the moral qualities with which you are endowed, and + which are, Monsieur, living forces,—as living as a cataract, as a + steam-engine of three, ten, twenty, fifty horse-power. Ha! this is + progress! the movement onward to a better state of things; a movement born + of the spirit of our epoch; a movement essentially progressive, as I shall + prove to you when we come to consider the principles involved in the + logical co-ordination of the social fabric. I will now explain my meaning + by literal examples, leaving aside all purely abstract reasoning, which I + call the mathematics of thought. Instead of being, as you are, a + proprietor living upon your income, let us suppose that you are painter, a + musician, an artist, or a poet—” + </p> + <p> + “I am a painter,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Well, so be it. I see you take my metaphor. You are a painter; you have a + glorious future, a rich future before you. But I go still farther—” + </p> + <p> + At these words the madman looked anxiously at Gaudissart, thinking he + meant to go away; but was reassured when he saw that he kept his seat. + </p> + <p> + “You may even be nothing at all,” said Gaudissart, going on with his + phrases, “but you are conscious of yourself; you feel yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “I feel myself,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “—you feel yourself a great man; you say to yourself, ‘I will be a + minister of state.’ Well, then, you—painter, artist, man of letters, + statesman of the future—you reckon upon your talents, you estimate + their value, you rate them, let us say, at a hundred thousand crowns—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you give me a hundred thousand crowns?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur, as you will see. Either your heirs and assigns will + receive them if you die, for the company contemplates that event, or you + will receive them in the long run through your works of art, your + writings, or your fortunate speculations during your lifetime. But, as I + have already had the honor to tell you, when you have once fixed upon the + value of your intellectual capital,—for it is intellectual capital,—seize + that idea firmly,—intellectual—” + </p> + <p> + “I understand,” said the fool. + </p> + <p> + “You sign a policy of insurance with a company which recognizes in you a + value of a hundred thousand crowns; in you, poet—” + </p> + <p> + “I am a painter,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” resumed Gaudissart,—“painter, poet, musician, statesman—and + binds itself to pay them over to your family, your heirs, if, by reason of + your death, the hopes foundered on your intellectual capital should be + overthrown for you personally. The payment of the premium is all that is + required to protect—” + </p> + <p> + “The money-box,” said the lunatic, sharply interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! naturally; yes. I see that Monsieur understands business.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the madman. “I established the Territorial Bank in the Rue des + Fosses-Montmartre at Paris in 1798.” + </p> + <p> + “For,” resumed Gaudissart, going back to his premium, “in order to meet + the payments on the intellectual capital which each man recognizes and + esteems in himself, it is of course necessary that each should pay a + certain premium, three per cent; an annual due of three per cent. Thus, by + the payment of this trifling sum, a mere nothing, you protect your family + from disastrous results at your death—” + </p> + <p> + “But I live,” said the fool. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! yes; you mean if you should live long? That is the usual objection,—a + vulgar prejudice. I fully agree that if we had not foreseen and demolished + it we might feel we were unworthy of being—what? What are we, after + all? Book-keepers in the great Bureau of Intellect. Monsieur, I don’t + apply these remarks to you, but I meet on all sides men who make it a + business to teach new ideas and disclose chains of reasoning to people who + turn pale at the first word. On my word of honor, it is pitiable! But + that’s the way of the world, and I don’t pretend to reform it. Your + objection, Monsieur, is really sheer nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Why?—this is why: because, if you live and possess the qualities + which are estimated in your policy against the chances of death,—now, + attend to this—” + </p> + <p> + “I am attending.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you have succeeded in life; and you have succeeded because of + the said insurance. You doubled your chances of success by getting rid of + the anxieties you were dragging about with you in the shape of wife and + children who might otherwise be left destitute at your death. If you + attain this certainty, you have touched the value of your intellectual + capital, on which the cost of insurance is but a trifle,—a mere + trifle, a bagatelle.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s a fine idea!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! is it not, Monsieur?” cried Gaudissart. “I call this enterprise the + exchequer of beneficence; a mutual insurance against poverty; or, if you + like it better, the discounting, the cashing, of talent. For talent, + Monsieur, is a bill of exchange which Nature gives to the man of genius, + and which often has a long time to run before it falls due.” + </p> + <p> + “That is usury!” cried Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + “The devil! he’s keen, the old fellow! I’ve made a mistake,” thought + Gaudissart, “I must catch him with other chaff. I’ll try humbug No. 1. Not + at all,” he said aloud, “for you who—” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take a glass of wine?” asked Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure,” replied Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “Wife, give us a bottle of the wine that is in the puncheons. You are here + at the very head of Vouvray,” he continued, with a gesture of the hand, + “the vineyard of Margaritis.” + </p> + <p> + The maid-servant brought glasses and a bottle of wine of the vintage of + 1819. The good-man filled a glass with circumspection and offered it to + Gaudissart, who drank it up. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you are joking, Monsieur!” exclaimed the commercial traveller. + “Surely this is Madeira, true Madeira?” + </p> + <p> + “So you think,” said the fool. “The trouble with our Vouvray wine is that + it is neither a common wine, nor a wine that can be drunk with the + entremets. It is too generous, too strong. It is often sold in Paris + adulterated with brandy and called Madeira. The wine-merchants buy it up, + when our vintage has not been good enough for the Dutch and Belgian + markets, to mix it with wines grown in the neighborhood of Paris, and call + it Bordeaux. But what you are drinking just now, my good Monsieur, is a + wine for kings, the pure Head of Vouvray,—that’s it’s name. I have + two puncheons, only two puncheons of it left. People who like fine wines, + high-class wines, who furnish their table with qualities that can’t be + bought in the regular trade,—and there are many persons in Paris who + have that vanity,—well, such people send direct to us for this wine. + Do you know any one who—?” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go on with what we were saying,” interposed Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “We are going on,” said the fool. “My wine is capital; you are capital, + capitalist, intellectual capital, capital wine,—all the same + etymology, don’t you see? hein? Capital, ‘caput,’ head, Head of Vouvray, + that’s my wine,—it’s all one thing.” + </p> + <p> + “So that you have realized your intellectual capital through your wines? + Ah, I see!” said Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “I have realized,” said the lunatic. “Would you like to buy my puncheons? + you shall have them on good terms.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I was merely speaking,” said the illustrious Gaudissart, “of the + results of insurance and the employment of intellectual capital. I will + resume my argument.” + </p> + <p> + The lunatic calmed down, and fell once more into position. + </p> + <p> + “I remarked, Monsieur, that if you die the capital will be paid to your + family without discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “Without discussion?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, unless there were suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s quibbling.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Monsieur; you are aware that suicide is one of those acts which are + easy to prove—” + </p> + <p> + “In France,” said the fool; “but—” + </p> + <p> + “But in other countries?” said Gaudissart. “Well, Monsieur, to cut short + discussion on this point, I will say, once for all, that death in foreign + countries or on the field of battle is outside of our—” + </p> + <p> + “Then what are you insuring? Nothing at all!” cried Margaritis. “My bank, + my Territorial Bank, rested upon—” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing at all?” exclaimed Gaudissart, interrupting the good-man. + “Nothing at all? What do you call sickness, and afflictions, and poverty, + and passions? Don’t go off on exceptional points.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! no points,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Now, what’s the result of all this?” cried Gaudissart. “To you, a banker, + I can sum up the profits in a few words. Listen. A man lives; he has a + future; he appears well; he lives, let us say, by his art; he wants money; + he tries to get it,—he fails. Civilization withholds cash from this + man whose thought could master civilization, and ought to master it, and + will master it some day with a brush, a chisel, with words, ideas, + theories, systems. Civilization is atrocious! It denies bread to the men + who give it luxury. It starves them on sneers and curses, the beggarly + rascal! My words may be strong, but I shall not retract them. Well, this + great but neglected man comes to us; we recognize his greatness; we salute + him with respect; we listen to him. He says to us: ‘Gentlemen, my life and + talents are worth so much; on my productions I will pay you such or such + percentage.’ Very good; what do we do? Instantly, without reserve or + hesitation, we admit him to the great festivals of civilization as an + honored guest—” + </p> + <p> + “You need wine for that,” interposed the madman. + </p> + <p> + “—as an honored guest. He signs the insurance policy; he takes our + bits of paper,—scraps, rags, miserable rags!—which, + nevertheless, have more power in the world than his unaided genius. Then, + if he wants money, every one will lend it to him on those rags. At the + Bourse, among bankers, wherever he goes, even at the usurers, he will find + money because he can give security. Well, Monsieur, is not that a great + gulf to bridge over in our social system? But that is only one aspect of + our work. We insure debtors by another scheme of policies and premiums. We + offer annuities at rates graduated according to ages, on a sliding-scale + infinitely more advantageous than what are called tontines, which are + based on tables of mortality that are notoriously false. Our company deals + with large masses of men; consequently the annuitants are secure from + those distressing fears which sadden old age,—too sad already!—fears + which pursue those who receive annuities from private sources. You see, + Monsieur, that we have estimated life under all its aspects.” + </p> + <p> + “Sucked it at both ends,” said the lunatic. “Take another glass of wine. + You’ve earned it. You must line your inside with velvet if you are going + to pump at it like that every day. Monsieur, the wine of Vouvray, if well + kept, is downright velvet.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, what do you think of it all?” said Gaudissart, emptying his glass. + </p> + <p> + “It is very fine, very new, very useful; but I like the discounts I get at + my Territorial Bank, Rue des Fosses-Montmartre.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, Monsieur,” answered Gaudissart; “but that sort of + thing is taken and retaken, made and remade, every day. You have also + hypothecating banks which lend upon landed property and redeem it on a + large scale. But that is a narrow idea compared to our system of + consolidating hopes,—consolidating hopes! coagulating, so to speak, + the aspirations born in every soul, and insuring the realization of our + dreams. It needed our epoch, Monsieur, the epoch of transition—transition + and progress—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, progress,” muttered the lunatic, with his glass at his lips. “I like + progress. That is what I’ve told them many times—” + </p> + <p> + “The ‘Times’!” cried Gaudissart, who did not catch the whole sentence. + “The ‘Times’ is a bad newspaper. If you read that, I am sorry for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The newspaper!” cried Margaritis. “Of course! Wife! wife! where is the + newspaper?” he cried, going towards the next room. + </p> + <p> + “If you are interested in newspapers,” said Gaudissart, changing his + attack, “we are sure to understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but before we say anything about that, tell me what you think of + this wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Delicious!” + </p> + <p> + “Then let us finish the bottle.” The lunatic poured out a thimbleful for + himself and filled Gaudissart’s glass. “Well, Monsieur, I have two + puncheons left of the same wine; if you find it good we can come to + terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” said Gaudissart. “The fathers of the Saint-Simonian faith have + authorized me to send them all the commodities I—But allow me to + tell you about their noble newspaper. You, who have understood the whole + question of insurance so thoroughly, and who are willing to assist my work + in this district—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Margaritis, “if—” + </p> + <p> + “If I take your wine; I understand perfectly. Your wine is very good, + Monsieur; it puts the stomach in a glow.” + </p> + <p> + “They make champagne out of it; there is a man from Paris who comes here + and makes it in Tours.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt of it, Monsieur. The ‘Globe,’ of which we were speaking—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’ve gone over it,” said Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + “I was sure of it!” exclaimed Gaudissart. “Monsieur, you have a fine + frontal development; a pate—excuse the word—which our + gentlemen call ‘horse-head.’ There’s a horse element in the head of every + great man. Genius will make itself known; but sometimes it happens that + great men, in spite of their gifts, remain obscure. Such was very nearly + the case with Saint-Simon; also with Monsieur Vico,—a strong man + just beginning to shoot up; I am proud of Vico. Now, here we enter upon + the new theory and formula of humanity. Attention, if you please.” + </p> + <p> + “Attention!” said the fool, falling into position. + </p> + <p> + “Man’s spoliation of man—by which I mean bodies of men living upon + the labor of other men—ought to have ceased with the coming of + Christ, I say <i>Christ</i>, who was sent to proclaim the equality of man + in the sight of God. But what is the fact? Equality up to our day has been + an ‘ignus fatuus,’ a chimera. Saint-Simon has arisen as the complement of + Christ; as the modern exponent of the doctrine of equality, or rather of + its practice, for theory has served its time—” + </p> + <p> + “Is he liberated?” asked the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Like liberalism, it has had its day. There is a nobler future before us: + a new faith, free labor, free growth, free production, individual + progress, a social co-ordination in which each man shall receive the full + worth of his individual labor, in which no man shall be preyed upon by + other men who, without capacity of their own, compel <i>all</i> to work + for the profit of <i>one</i>. From this comes the doctrine of—” + </p> + <p> + “How about servants?” demanded the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “They will remain servants if they have no capacity beyond it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s the good of your doctrine?” + </p> + <p> + “To judge of this doctrine, Monsieur, you must consider it from a higher + point of view: you must take a general survey of humanity. Here we come to + the theories of Ballance: do you know his Palingenesis?” + </p> + <p> + “I am fond of them,” said the fool, who thought he said “ices.” + </p> + <p> + “Good!” returned Gaudissart. “Well, then, if the palingenistic aspects of + the successive transformations of the spiritualized globe have struck, + stirred, roused you, then, my dear sir, the ‘Globe’ newspaper,—noble + name which proclaims its mission,—the ‘Globe’ is an organ, a guide, + who will explain to you with the coming of each day the conditions under + which this vast political and moral change will be effected. The gentlemen + who—” + </p> + <p> + “Do they drink wine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur; their houses are kept up in the highest style; I may say, + in prophetic style. Superb salons, large receptions, the apex of social + life—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” remarked the lunatic, “the workmen who pull things down want wine + as much as those who put things up.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the illustrious Gaudissart, “and all the more, Monsieur, when + they pull down with one hand and build up with the other, like the + apostles of the ‘Globe.’” + </p> + <p> + “They want good wine; Head of Vouvray, two puncheons, three hundred + bottles, only one hundred francs,—a trifle.” + </p> + <p> + “How much is that a bottle?” said Gaudissart, calculating. “Let me see; + there’s the freight and the duty,—it will come to about seven sous. + Why, it wouldn’t be a bad thing: they give more for worse wines—(Good! + I’ve got him!” thought Gaudissart, “he wants to sell me wine which I want; + I’ll master him)—Well, Monsieur,” he continued, “those who argue + usually come to an agreement. Let us be frank with each other. You have + great influence in this district—” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so!” said the madman; “I am the Head of Vouvray!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I see that you thoroughly comprehend the insurance of intellectual + capital—” + </p> + <p> + “Thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “—and that you have measured the full importance of the ‘Globe’—” + </p> + <p> + “Twice; on foot.” + </p> + <p> + Gaudissart was listening to himself and not to the replies of his hearer. + </p> + <p> + “Therefore, in view of your circumstances and of your age, I quite + understand that you have no need of insurance for yourself; but, Monsieur, + you might induce others to insure, either because of their inherent + qualities which need development, or for the protection of their families + against a precarious future. Now, if you will subscribe to the ‘Globe,’ + and give me your personal assistance in this district on behalf of + insurance, especially life-annuity,—for the provinces are much + attached to annuities—Well, if you will do this, then we can come to + an understanding about the wine. Will you take the ‘Globe’?” + </p> + <p> + “I stand on the globe.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you advance its interests in this district?” + </p> + <p> + “I advance.” + </p> + <p> + “And?” + </p> + <p> + “And—” + </p> + <p> + “And I—but you do subscribe, don’t you, to the ‘Globe’?” + </p> + <p> + “The globe, good thing, for life,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “For life, Monsieur?—ah, I see! yes, you are right: it is full of + life, vigor, intellect, science,—absolutely crammed with science,—well + printed, clear type, well set up; what I call ‘good nap.’ None of your + botched stuff, cotton and wool, trumpery; flimsy rubbish that rips if you + look at it. It is deep; it states questions on which you can meditate at + your leisure; it is the very thing to make time pass agreeably in the + country.” + </p> + <p> + “That suits me,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “It only costs a trifle,—eighty francs.” + </p> + <p> + “That won’t suit me,” said the lunatic. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” cried Gaudissart, “of course you have got grandchildren? + There’s the ‘Children’s Journal’; that only costs seven francs a year.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good; take my wine, and I will subscribe to the children. That suits + me very well: a fine idea! intellectual product, child. That’s man living + upon man, hein?” + </p> + <p> + “You’ve hit it, Monsieur,” said Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve hit it!” + </p> + <p> + “You consent to push me in the district?” + </p> + <p> + “In the district.” + </p> + <p> + “I have your approbation?” + </p> + <p> + “You have it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Monsieur, I take your wine at a hundred francs—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no! hundred and ten—” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur! A hundred and ten for the company, but a hundred to me. I + enable you to make a sale; you owe me a commission.” + </p> + <p> + “Charge ‘em a hundred and twenty,”—“cent vingt” (“sans vin,” without + wine). + </p> + <p> + “Capital pun that!” + </p> + <p> + “No, puncheons. About that wine—” + </p> + <p> + “Better and better! why, you are a wit.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I’m that,” said the fool. “Come out and see my vineyards.” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly, the wine is getting into my head,” said the illustrious + Gaudissart, following Monsieur Margaritis, who marched him from row to row + and hillock to hillock among the vines. The three ladies and Monsieur + Vernier, left to themselves, went off into fits of laughter as they + watched the traveller and the lunatic discussing, gesticulating, stopping + short, resuming their walk, and talking vehemently. + </p> + <p> + “I wish the good-man hadn’t carried him off,” said Vernier. + </p> + <p> + Finally the pair returned, walking with the eager step of men who were in + haste to finish up a matter of business. + </p> + <p> + “He has got the better of the Parisian, damn him!” cried Vernier. + </p> + <p> + And so it was. To the huge delight of the lunatic our illustrious + Gaudissart sat down at a card-table and wrote an order for the delivery of + the two casks of wine. Margaritis, having carefully read it over, counted + out seven francs for his subscription to the “Children’s Journal” and gave + them to the traveller. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu until to-morrow, Monsieur,” said Gaudissart, twisting his + watch-key. “I shall have the honor to call for you to-morrow. Meantime, + send the wine at once to Paris to the address I have given you, and the + price will be remitted immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Gaudissart, however, was a Norman, and he had no idea of making any + agreement which was not reciprocal. He therefore required his promised + supporter to sign a bond (which the lunatic carefully read over) to + deliver two puncheons of the wine called “Head of Vouvray,” vineyard of + Margaritis. + </p> + <p> + This done, the illustrious Gaudissart departed in high feather, humming, + as he skipped along,— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “The King of the South, + He burned his mouth,” etc. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + The illustrious Gaudissart returned to the Soleil d’Or, where he naturally + conversed with the landlord while waiting for dinner. Mitouflet was an old + soldier, guilelessly crafty, like the peasantry of the Loire; he never + laughed at a jest, but took it with the gravity of a man accustomed to the + roar of cannon and to make his own jokes under arms. + </p> + <p> + “You have some very strong-minded people here,” said Gaudissart, leaning + against the door-post and lighting his cigar at Mitouflet’s pipe. + </p> + <p> + “How do you mean?” asked Mitouflet. + </p> + <p> + “I mean people who are rough-shod on political and financial ideas.” + </p> + <p> + “Whom have you seen? if I may ask without indiscretion,” said the landlord + innocently, expectorating after the adroit and periodical fashion of + smokers. + </p> + <p> + “A fine, energetic fellow named Margaritis.” + </p> + <p> + Mitouflet cast two glances in succession at his guest which were + expressive of chilling irony. + </p> + <p> + “May be; the good-man knows a deal. He knows too much for other folks, who + can’t always understand him.” + </p> + <p> + “I can believe it, for he thoroughly comprehends the abstruse principles + of finance.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the innkeeper, “and for my part, I am sorry he is a lunatic.” + </p> + <p> + “A lunatic! What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, crazy,—cracked, as people are when they are insane,” answered + Mitouflet. “But he is not dangerous; his wife takes care of him. Have you + been arguing with him?” added the pitiless landlord; “that must have been + funny!” + </p> + <p> + “Funny!” cried Gaudissart. “Funny! Then your Monsieur Vernier has been + making fun of me!” + </p> + <p> + “Did he send you there?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wife! wife! come here and listen. If Monsieur Vernier didn’t take it into + his head to send this gentleman to talk to Margaritis!” + </p> + <p> + “What in the world did you say to each other, my dear, good Monsieur?” + said the wife. “Why, he’s crazy!” + </p> + <p> + “He sold me two casks of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you buy them?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But that is his delusion; he thinks he sells his wine, and he hasn’t + any.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” snorted the traveller, “then I’ll go straight to Monsieur Vernier + and thank him.” + </p> + <p> + And Gaudissart departed, boiling over with rage, to shake the ex-dyer, + whom he found in his salon, laughing with a company of friends to whom he + had already recounted the tale. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the prince of travellers, darting a savage glance at his + enemy, “you are a scoundrel and a blackguard; and under pain of being + thought a turn-key,—a species of being far below a galley-slave,—you + will give me satisfaction for the insult you dared to offer me in sending + me to a man whom you knew to be a lunatic! Do you hear me, Monsieur + Vernier, dyer?” + </p> + <p> + Such was the harangue which Gaudissart prepared as he went along, as a + tragedian makes ready for his entrance on the scene. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Vernier, delighted at the presence of an audience, “do you + think we have no right to make fun of a man who comes here, bag and + baggage, and demands that we hand over our property because, forsooth, he + is pleased to call us great men, painters, artists, poets,—mixing us + up gratuitously with a set of fools who have neither house nor home, nor + sous nor sense? Why should we put up with a rascal who comes here and + wants us to feather his nest by subscribing to a newspaper which preaches + a new religion whose first doctrine is, if you please, that we are not to + inherit from our fathers and mothers? On my sacred word of honor, Pere + Margaritis said things a great deal more sensible. And now, what are you + complaining about? You and Margaritis seemed to understand each other. The + gentlemen here present can testify that if you had talked to the whole + canton you couldn’t have been as well understood.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all very well for you to say; but I have been insulted, Monsieur, + and I demand satisfaction!” + </p> + <p> + “Very good, Monsieur! consider yourself insulted, if you like. I shall not + give you satisfaction, because there is neither rhyme nor reason nor + satisfaction to be found in the whole business. What an absurd fool he is, + to be sure!” + </p> + <p> + At these words Gaudissart flew at the dyer to give him a slap on the face, + but the listening crowd rushed between them, so that the illustrious + traveller only contrived to knock off the wig of his enemy, which fell on + the head of Mademoiselle Clara Vernier. + </p> + <p> + “If you are not satisfied, Monsieur,” he said, “I shall be at the Soleil + d’Or until to-morrow morning, and you will find me ready to show you what + it means to give satisfaction. I fought in July, Monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “And you shall fight in Vouvray,” answered the dyer; “and what is more, + you shall stay here longer than you imagine.” + </p> + <p> + Gaudissart marched off, turning over in his mind this prophetic remark, + which seemed to him full of sinister portent. For the first time in his + life the prince of travellers did not dine jovially. The whole town of + Vouvray was put in a ferment about the “affair” between Monsieur Vernier + and the apostle of Saint-Simonism. Never before had the tragic event of a + duel been so much as heard of in that benign and happy valley. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Mitouflet, I am to fight to-morrow with Monsieur Vernier,” said + Gaudissart to his landlord. “I know no one here: will you be my second?” + </p> + <p> + “Willingly,” said the host. + </p> + <p> + Gaudissart had scarcely finished his dinner before Madame Fontanieu and + the assistant-mayor of Vouvray came to the Soleil d’Or and took Mitouflet + aside. They told him it would be a painful and injurious thing to the + whole canton if a violent death were the result of this affair; they + represented the pitiable distress of Madame Vernier, and conjured him to + find some way to arrange matters and save the credit of the district. + </p> + <p> + “I take it all upon myself,” said the sagacious landlord. + </p> + <p> + In the evening he went up to the traveller’s room carrying pens, ink, and + paper. + </p> + <p> + “What have you got there?” asked Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “If you are going to fight to-morrow,” answered Mitouflet, “you had better + make some settlement of your affairs; and perhaps you have letters to + write,—we all have beings who are dear to us. Writing doesn’t kill, + you know. Are you a good swordsman? Would you like to get your hand in? I + have some foils.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, gladly.” + </p> + <p> + Mitouflet returned with foils and masks. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, let us see what you can do.” + </p> + <p> + The pair put themselves on guard. Mitouflet, with his former prowess as + grenadier of the guard, made sixty-two passes at Gaudissart, pushed him + about right and left, and finally pinned him up against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “The deuce! you are strong,” said Gaudissart, out of breath. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Vernier is stronger than I am.” + </p> + <p> + “The devil! Damn it, I shall fight with pistols.” + </p> + <p> + “I advise you to do so; because, if you take large holster pistols and + load them up to their muzzles, you can’t risk anything. They are <i>sure</i> + to fire wide of the mark, and both parties can retire from the field with + honor. Let me manage all that. Hein! ‘sapristi,’ two brave men would be + arrant fools to kill each other for a joke.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure the pistols will carry <i>wide enough</i>? I should be sorry + to kill the man, after all,” said Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + “Sleep in peace,” answered Mitouflet, departing. + </p> + <p> + The next morning the two adversaries, more or less pale, met beside the + bridge of La Cise. The brave Vernier came near shooting a cow which was + peaceably feeding by the roadside. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you fired in the air!” cried Gaudissart. + </p> + <p> + At these words the enemies embraced. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the traveller, “your joke was rather rough, but it was a + good one for all that. I am sorry I apostrophized you: I was excited. I + regard you as a man of honor.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, we take twenty subscriptions to the ‘Children’s Journal,’” + replied the dyer, still pale. + </p> + <p> + “That being so,” said Gaudissart, “why shouldn’t we all breakfast + together? Men who fight are always the ones to come to a good + understanding.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Mitouflet,” said Gaudissart on his return to the inn, “of course + you have got a sheriff’s officer here?” + </p> + <p> + “What for?” + </p> + <p> + “I want to send a summons to my good friend Margaritis to deliver the two + casks of wine.” + </p> + <p> + “But he has not got them,” said Vernier. + </p> + <p> + “No matter for that; the affair can be arranged by the payment of an + indemnity. I won’t have it said that Vouvray outwitted the illustrious + Gaudissart.” + </p> + <p> + Madame Margaritis, alarmed at the prospect of a suit in which the + plaintiff would certainly win his case, brought thirty francs to the + placable traveller, who thereupon considered himself quits with the + happiest region of sunny France,—a region which is also, we must + add, the most recalcitrant to new and progressive ideas. + </p> + <p> + On returning from his trip through the southern departments, the + illustrious Gaudissart occupied the coupe of a diligence, where he met a + young man to whom, as they journeyed between Angouleme and Paris, he + deigned to explain the enigmas of life, taking him, apparently, for an + infant. + </p> + <p> + As they passed Vouvray the young man exclaimed, “What a fine site!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur,” said Gaudissart, “but not habitable on account of the + people. You get into duels every day. Why, it is not three months since I + fought one just there,” pointing to the bridge of La Cise, “with a damned + dyer; but I made an end of him,—he bit the dust!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + ADDENDUM + </h2> + <h3> + The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. + </h3> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Finot, Andoche + Cesar Birotteau + A Bachelor’s Establishment + A Distinguished Provincial at Paris + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + The Government Clerks + A Start in Life + The Firm of Nucingen + + Gaudissart, Felix + Scenes from a Courtesan’s Life + Cousin Pons + Cesar Birotteau + Honorine + + Popinot, Anselme + Cesar Birotteau + Cousin Pons + Cousin Betty +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 1474 ***</div> +</body> +</html> |