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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/3996.txt b/3996.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d2cddf5 --- /dev/null +++ b/3996.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2145 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher by E. Souvestre, v1 +#83 in our series The French Immortals Crowned by the French Academy +#1 in our series by Emile Souvestre + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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D.W.] + + + + + +AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER +(Un Philosophe sous les Toits) + +By EMILE SOUVESTRE + + +With a Preface by JOSEPH BERTRAND, of the French Academy + + + +BOOK 1. + + +EMILE SOUVESTRE + +No one succeeds in obtaining a prominent place in literature, or in +surrounding himself with a faithful and steady circle of admirers drawn +from the fickle masses of the public, unless he possesses originality, +constant variety, and a distinct personality. It is quite possible to +gain for a moment a few readers by imitating some original feature in +another; but these soon vanish and the writer remains alone and +forgotten. Others, again, without belonging to any distinct group of +authors, having found their standard in themselves, moralists and +educators at the same time, have obtained undying recognition. + +Of the latter class, though little known outside of France, is Emile +Souvestre, who was born in Morlaix, April 15, 1806, and died at Paris +July 5, 1854. He was the son of a civil engineer, was educated at the +college of Pontivy, and intended to follow his father's career by +entering the Polytechnic School. His father, however, died in 1823, and +Souvestre matriculated as a law-student at Rennes. But the young student +soon devoted himself entirely to literature. His first essay, a tragedy, +'Le Siege de Missolonghi' (1828), was a pronounced failure. Disheartened +and disgusted he left Paris and established himself first as a lawyer in +Morlaix. Then he became proprietor of a newspaper, and was afterward +appointed a professor in Brest and in Mulhouse. In 1836 he contributed +to the 'Revue des Deux Mondes' some sketches of life in Brittany, which +obtained a brilliant success. Souvestre was soon made editor of La Revue +de Paris, and in consequence early found a publisher for his first novel, +'L'Echelle de Femmes', which, as was the case with his second work, +Riche et Pauvre', met with a very favorable reception. His reputation +was now made, and between this period and his death he gave to France +about sixty volumes--tales, novels, essays, history, and drama. + +A double purpose was always very conspicuous in his books: he aspired to +the role of a moralist and educator, and was likewise a most impressive +painter of the life, character, and morals of the inhabitants of +Brittany. + +The most significant of his books are perhaps 'Les Derniers Bretons +(1835-1837, 4 vols.), Pierre Landais (1843, 2 vols.), Le Foyer Breton +(1844, 2 vols.), Un Philosophe sons les Toits, crowned by the Academy +(1850), Confessions d'un Ouvrier (1851), Recits et Souvenirs (1853), +Souvenirs d'un Vieillard (1854); also La Bretagne Pittoresque (1845), +and, finally, Causeries Historiques et Litteraires (1854, 2 vols.)'. His +comedies deserve honorable mention: 'Henri Hamelin, L'Oncle Baptiste +(1842), La Parisienne, Le Mousse, etc'. In 1848, Souvestre was appointed +professor of the newly created school of administration, mostly devoted +to popular lectures. He held this post till 1853, lecturing partly in +Paris, partly in Switzerland. + +His death, when comparatively young, left a distinct gap in the literary +world. A life like his could not be extinguished without general sorrow. +Although he was unduly modest, and never aspired to the role of a beacon- +light in literature, always seeking to remain in obscurity, the works of +Emile Souvestre must be placed in the first rank by their morality and by +their instructive character. They will always command the entire respect +and applause of mankind. And thus it happens that, like many others, he +was only fully appreciated after his death. + +Even those of his 'confreres' who did not seem to esteem him, when alive, +suddenly found out that they had experienced a great loss in his demise. +They expressed it in emotional panegyrcs; contemporaneous literature +discovered that virtue had flown from its bosom, and the French Academy, +which had at its proper time crowned his 'Philosophe sons les Toits' as a +work contributing supremely to morals, kept his memory green by bestowing +on his widow the "Prix Lambert," designed for the "families of authors +who by their integrity, and by the probity of their efforts have well +deserved this token from the Republique des Lettres." + + JOSEPH BERTRAND + de 'Academie Francaise. + + + + +AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER + + +CHAPTER I + +NEW-YEAR'S GIFTS + +January 1st + +The day of the month came into my mind as soon as I awoke. Another year +is separated from the chain of ages, and drops into the gulf of the past! +The crowd hasten to welcome her young sister. But while all looks are +turned toward the future, mine revert to the past. Everyone smiles upon +the new queen; but, in spite of myself, I think of her whom time has just +wrapped in her winding-sheet. The past year!--at least I know what she +was, and what she has given me; while this one comes surrounded by all +the forebodings of the unknown. What does she hide in the clouds that +mantle her? Is it the storm or the sunshine? Just now it rains, and I +feel my mind as gloomy as the sky. I have a holiday today; but what can +one do on a rainy day? I walk up and down my attic out of temper, and I +determine to light my fire. + +Unfortunately the matches are bad, the chimney smokes, the wood goes out! +I throw down my bellows in disgust, and sink into my old armchair. + +In truth, why should I rejoice to see the birth of a new year? All those +who are already in the streets, with holiday looks and smiling faces--do +they understand what makes them so gay? Do they even know what is the +meaning of this holiday, or whence comes the custom of New-Year's gifts? + +Here my mind pauses to prove to itself its superiority over that of the +vulgar. I make a parenthesis in my ill-temper in favor of my vanity, and +I bring together all the evidence which my knowledge can produce. + +(The old Romans divided the year into ten months only; it was Numa +Pompilius who added January and February. The former took its name from +Janus, to whom it was dedicated. As it opened the new year, they +surrounded its beginning with good omens, and thence came the custom of +visits between neighbors, of wishing happiness, and of New-Year's gifts. +The presents given by the Romans were symbolic. They consisted of dry +figs, dates, honeycomb, as emblems of "the sweetness of the auspices +under which the year should begin its course," and a small piece of money +called stips, which foreboded riches.) + +Here I close the parenthesis, and return to my ill-humor. The little +speech I have just addressed to myself has restored me my self- +satisfaction, but made me more dissatisfied with others. I could now +enjoy my breakfast; but the portress has forgotten my morning's milk, and +the pot of preserves is empty! Anyone else would have been vexed: as for +me, I affect the most supreme indifference. There remains a hard crust, +which I break by main strength, and which I carelessly nibble, as a man +far above the vanities of the world and of fresh rolls. + +However, I do not know why my thoughts should grow more gloomy by reason +of the difficulties of mastication. I once read the story of an +Englishman who hanged himself because they had brought him his tea +without sugar. There are hours in life when the most trifling cross +takes the form of a calamity. Our tempers are like an opera-glass, which +makes the object small or great according to the end you look through. + +Usually, the prospect that opens out before my window delights me. It is +a mountain-range of roofs, with ridges crossing, interlacing, and piled +on one another, and upon which tall chimneys raise their peaks. It was +but yesterday that they had an Alpine aspect to me, and I waited for the +first snowstorm to see glaciers among them; to-day, I only see tiles and +stone flues. The pigeons, which assisted my rural illusions, seem no +more than miserable birds which have mistaken the roof for the back yard; +the smoke, which rises in light clouds, instead of making me dream of the +panting of Vesuvius, reminds me of kitchen preparations and dishwater; +and lastly, the telegraph, that I see far off on the old tower of +Montmartre, has the effect of a vile gallows stretching its arms over the +city. + +My eyes, thus hurt by all they meet, fall upon the great man's house +which faces my attic. + +The influence of New-Year's Day is visible there. The servants have an +air of eagerness proportioned to the value of their New-Year's gifts, +received or expected. I see the master of the house crossing the court +with the morose look of a man who is forced to be generous; and the +visitors increase, followed by shop porters who carry flowers, bandboxes, +or toys. Suddenly the great gates are opened, and a new carriage, drawn +by thoroughbred horses, draws up before the doorsteps. They are, without +doubt, the New-Year's gift presented to the mistress of the house by her +husband; for she comes herself to look at the new equipage. Very soon +she gets into it with a little girl, all streaming with laces, feathers +and velvets, and loaded with parcels which she goes to distribute as New- +Year's gifts. The door is shut, the windows are drawn up, the carriage +sets off. + +Thus all the world are exchanging good wishes and presents to-day. I +alone have nothing to give or to receive. Poor Solitary! I do not even +know one chosen being for whom I might offer a prayer. + +Then let my wishes for a happy New Year go and seek out all my unknown +friends--lost in the multitude which murmurs like the ocean at my feet! + +To you first, hermits in cities, for whom death and poverty have created +a solitude in the midst of the crowd! unhappy laborers, who are +condemned to toil in melancholy, and eat your daily bread in silence and +desertion, and whom God has withdrawn from the intoxicating pangs of love +and friendship! + +To you, fond dreamers, who pass through life with your eyes turned toward +some polar star, while you tread with indifference over the rich harvests +of reality! + +To you, honest fathers, who lengthen out the evening to maintain your +families! to you, poor widows, weeping and working by a cradle! to you, +young men, resolutely set to open for yourselves a path in life, large +enough to lead through it the wife of your choice! to you, all brave +soldiers of work and of self-sacrifice! + +To you, lastly, whatever your title and your name, who love good, who +pity the suffering; who walk through the world like the symbolical Virgin +of Byzantium, with both arms open to the human race! + +Here I am suddenly interrupted by loud and increasing chirpings. I look +about me: my window is surrounded with sparrows picking up the crumbs of +bread which in my brown study I had just scattered on the roof. At this +sight a flash of light broke upon my saddened heart. I deceived myself +just now, when I complained that I had nothing to give: thanks to me, the +sparrows of this part of the town will have their New-Year's gifts! + +Twelve o'clock.--A knock at my door; a poor girl comes in, and greets me +by name. At first I do not recollect her; but she looks at me, and +smiles. Ah! it is Paulette! But it is almost a year since I have seen +her, and Paulette is no longer the same: the other day she was a child, +now she is almost a young woman. + +Paulette is thin, pale, and miserably clad; but she has always the same +open and straightforward look--the same mouth, smiling at every word, as +if to court your sympathy--the same voice, somewhat timid, yet expressing +fondness. Paulette is not pretty--she is even thought plain; as for me, +I think her charming. Perhaps that is not on her account, but on my own. +Paulette appears to me as one of my happiest recollections. + +It was the evening of a public holiday. Our principal buildings were +illuminated with festoons of fire, a thousand flags waved in the night +winds, and the fireworks had just shot forth their spouts of flame into +the midst of the Champ de Mars. Suddenly, one of those unaccountable +alarms which strike a multitude with panic fell upon the dense crowd: +they cry out, they rush on headlong; the weaker ones fall, and the +frightened crowd tramples them down in its convulsive struggles. I +escaped from the confusion by a miracle, and was hastening away, when the +cries of a perishing child arrested me: I reentered that human chaos, +and, after unheard-of exertions, I brought Paulette out of it at the +peril of my life. + +That was two years ago: since then I had not seen the child again but at +long intervals, and I had almost forgotten her; but Paulette's memory was +that of a grateful heart, and she came at the beginning of the year to +offer me her wishes for my happiness. She brought me, besides, a +wallflower in full bloom; she herself had planted and reared it: it was +something that belonged wholly to herself; for it was by her care, her +perseverance, and her patience, that she had obtained it. + +The wallflower had grown in a common pot; but Paulette, who is a bandbox- +maker, had put it into a case of varnished paper, ornamented with +arabesques. These might have been in better taste, but I did not feel +the attention and good-will the less. + +This unexpected present, the little girl's modest blushes, the +compliments she stammered out, dispelled, as by a sunbeam, the kind of +mist which had gathered round my mind; my thoughts suddenly changed from +the leaden tints of evening to the brightest colors of dawn. I made +Paulette sit down, and questioned her with a light heart. + +At first the little girl replied in monosyllables; but very soon the +tables were turned, and it was I who interrupted with short interjections +her long and confidential talk. The poor child leads a hard life. She +was left an orphan long since, with a brother and sister, and lives with +an old grandmother, who has "brought them up to poverty," as she always +calls it. + +However, Paulette now helps her to make bandboxes, her little sister +Perrine begins to use the needle, and her brother Henry is apprentice to +a printer. All would go well if it were not for losses and want of work +--if it were not for clothes which wear out, for appetites which grow +larger, and for the winter, when you cannot get sunshine for nothing. +Paulette complains that her candles go too quickly, and that her wood +costs too much. The fireplace in their garret is so large that a fagot +makes no more show in it than a match; it is so near the roof that the +wind blows the rain down it, and in winter it hails upon the hearth; so +they have left off using it. Henceforth they must be content with an +earthen chafing-dish, upon which they cook their meals. The grandmother +had often spoken of a stove that was for sale at the broker's close by; +but he asked seven francs for it, and the times are too hard for such an +expense: the family, therefore, resign themselves to cold for economy! + +As Paulette spoke, I felt more and more that I was losing my fretfulness +and low spirits. The first disclosures of the little bandbox-maker +created within me a wish that soon became a plan. I questioned her about +her daily occupations, and she informed me that on leaving me she must +go, with her brother, her sister, and grandmother, to the different +people for whom they work. My plan was immediately settled. I told the +child that I would go to see her in the evening, and I sent her away with +fresh thanks. + +I placed the wallflower in the open window, where a ray of sunshine bid +it welcome; the birds were singing around, the sky had cleared up, and +the day, which began so loweringly, had become bright. I sang as I moved +about my room, and, having hastily put on my hat and coat, I went out. + +Three o'clock.--All is settled with my neighbor, the chimney-doctor; +he will repair my old stove, and answers for its being as good as new. +At five o'clock we are to set out, and put it up in Paulette's +grandmother's room. + +Midnight.--All has gone off well. At the hour agreed upon, I was at the +old bandbox-maker's; she was still out. My Piedmontese + + [In Paris a chimney-sweeper is named "Piedmontese" or "Savoyard," + as they usually come from that country.] + +fixed the stove, while I arranged a dozen logs in the great fireplace, +taken from my winter stock. I shall make up for them by warming myself +with walking, or by going to bed earlier. + +My heart beat at every step that was heard on the staircase; I trembled +lest they should interrupt me in my preparations, and should thus spoil +my intended surprise. But no!--see everything ready: the lighted stove +murmurs gently, the little lamp burns upon the table, and a bottle of oil +for it is provided on the shelf. The chimney-doctor is gone. Now my +fear lest they should come is changed into impatience at their not +coming. At last I hear children's voices; here they are: they push open +the door and rush in--but they all stop in astonishment. + +At the sight of the lamp, the stove, and the visitor, who stands there +like a magician in the midst of these wonders, they draw back almost +frightened. Paulette is the first to comprehend it, and the arrival of +the grandmother, who is more slowly mounting the stairs, finishes the +explanation. Then come tears, ecstasies, thanks! + +But the wonders are not yet ended. The little sister opens the oven, and +discovers some chestnuts just roasted; the grandmother puts her hand on +the bottles of cider arranged on the dresser; and I draw forth from the +basket that I have hidden a cold tongue, a pot of butter, and some fresh +rolls. + +Now their wonder turns into admiration; the little family have never seen +such a feast! They lay the cloth, they sit down, they eat; it is a +complete banquet for all, and each contributes his share to it. I had +brought only the supper: and the bandbox-maker and her children supplied +the enjoyment. + +What bursts of laughter at nothing! What a hubbub of questions which +waited for no reply, of replies which answered no question! The old +woman herself shared in the wild merriment of the little ones! I have +always been struck at the ease with which the poor forget their +wretchedness. Being used to live only for the present, they make a gain +of every pleasure as soon as it offers itself. But the surfeited rich +are more difficult to satisfy: they require time and everything to suit +before they will consent to be happy. + +The evening has passed like a moment. The old woman told me the history +of her life, sometimes smiling, sometimes drying her eyes. Perrine sang +an old ballad with her fresh young voice. Henry told us what he knows of +the great writers of the day, to whom he has to carry their proofs. At +last we were obliged to separate, not without fresh thanks on the part of +the happy family. + +I have come home slowly, ruminating with a full heart, and pure +enjoyment, on the simple events of my evening. It has given me much +comfort and much instruction. Now, no New-Year's Day will come amiss to +me; I know that no one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give and +nothing to receive. + +As I came in, I met my rich neighbor's new equipage. She, too, had just +returned from her evening's party; and, as she sprang from the carriage- +step with feverish impatience, I heard her murmur "At last!" + +I, when I left Paulette's family, said "So soon!" + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE CARNIVAL + +February 20th + +What a noise out of doors! What is the meaning of these shouts and +cries? Ah! I recollect: this is the last day of the Carnival, and the +maskers are passing. + +Christianity has not been able to abolish the noisy bacchanalian +festivals of the pagan times, but it has changed the names. That which +it has given to these "days of liberty" announces the ending of the +feasts, and the month of fasting which should follow; carn-ival means, +literally, "farewell to flesh!" It is a forty days' farewell to the +"blessed pullets and fat hams," so celebrated by Pantagruel's minstrel. +Man prepares for privation by satiety, and finishes his sin thoroughly +before he begins to repent. + +Why, in all ages and among every people, do we meet with some one of +these mad festivals? Must we believe that it requires such an effort for +men to be reasonable, that the weaker ones have need of rest at +intervals? The monks of La Trappe, who are condemned to silence by their +rule, are allowed to speak once in a month, and on this day they all talk +at once from the rising to the setting of the sun. + +Perhaps it is the same in the world. As we are obliged all the year to +be decent, orderly, and reasonable, we make up for such a long restraint +during the Carnival. It is a door opened to the incongruous fancies and +wishes that have hitherto been crowded back into a corner of our brain. +For a moment the slaves become the masters, as in the days of the +Saturnalia, and all is given up to the "fools of the family." + +The shouts in the square redouble; the troops of masks increase--on foot, +in carriages, and on horseback. It is now who can attract the most +attention by making a figure for a few hours, or by exciting curiosity +or envy; to-morrow they will all return, dull and exhausted, to the +employments and troubles of yesterday. + +Alas! thought I with vexation, each of us is like these masqueraders; +our whole life is often but an unsightly Carnival! And yet man has need +of holidays, to relax his mind, rest his body, and open his heart. Can +he not have them, then, with these coarse pleasures? Economists have +been long inquiring what is the best disposal of the industry of the +human race. Ah! if I could only discover the best disposal of its +leisure! It is easy enough to find it work; but who will find it +relaxation? Work supplies the daily bread; but it is cheerfulness that +gives it a relish. O philosophers! go in quest of pleasure! find us +amusements without brutality, enjoyments without selfishness; in a word, +invent a Carnival that will please everybody, and bring shame to no one. + + +Three o'clock.--I have just shut my window, and stirred up my fire. As +this is a holiday for everybody, I will make it one for myself, too. So +I light the little lamp over which, on grand occasions, I make a cup of +the coffee that my portress's son brought from the Levant, and I look in +my bookcase for one of my favorite authors. + +First, here is the amusing parson of Meudon; but his characters are too +fond of talking slang:--Voltaire; but he disheartens men by always +bantering them:--Moliere; but he hinders one's laughter by making one +think:--Lesage; let us stop at him. Being profound rather than grave, he +preaches virtue while ridiculing vice; if bitterness is sometimes to be +found in his writings, it is always in the garb of mirth: he sees the +miseries of the world without despising it, and knows its cowardly tricks +without hating it. + +Let us call up all the heroes of his book.... Gil Blas, Fabrice, +Sangrado, the Archbishop of Granada, the Duke of Lerma, Aurora, Scipio! +Ye gay or graceful figures, rise before my eyes, people my solitude; +bring hither for my amusement the world-carnival, of which you are the +brilliant maskers! + +Unfortunately, at the very moment I made this invocation, I recollected +I had a letter to write which could not be put off. One of my attic +neighbors came yesterday to ask me to do it. He is a cheerful old man, +and has a passion for pictures and prints. He comes home almost every +day with a drawing or painting--probably of little value; for I know he +lives penuriously, and even the letter that I am to write for him shows +his poverty. His only son, who was married in England, is just dead, and +his widow--left without any means, and with an old mother and a child-- +had written to beg for a home. M. Antoine asked me first to translate +the letter, and then to write a refusal. I had promised that he should +have this answer to-day: before everything, let us fulfil our promises. + +The sheet of "Bath" paper is before me, I have dipped my pen into the +ink, and I rub my forehead to invite forth a sally of ideas, when I +perceive that I have not my dictionary. Now, a Parisian who would speak +English without a dictionary is like a child without leading-strings; the +ground trembles under him, and he stumbles at the first step. I run then +to the bookbinder's, where I left my Johnson, who lives close by in the +square. + +The door is half open; I hear low groans; I enter without knocking, +and I see the bookbinder by the bedside of his fellow-lodger. This +latter has a violent fever and delirium. Pierre looks at him perplexed +and out of humor. I learn from him that his comrade was not able to get +up in the morning, and that since then he has become worse every hour. + +I ask whether they have sent for a doctor. + +"Oh, yes, indeed!" replied Pierre, roughly; "one must have money in +one's pocket for that, and this fellow has only debts instead of +savings." + +"But you," said I, rather astonished; "are you not his friend?" + +"Friend!" interrupted the bookbinder. "Yes, as much as the shaft-horse +is friend to the leader--on condition that each will take his share of +the draught, and eat his feed by himself." + +"You do not intend, however, to leave him without any help?" + +"Bah! he may keep in his bed till to-morrow, as I'm going to the ball." + +"You mean to leave him alone?" + +"Well! must I miss a party of pleasure at Courtville--[A Parisian summer +resort.]--because this fellow is lightheaded?" asked Pierre, sharply. +"I have promised to meet some friends at old Desnoyer's. Those who are +sick may take their broth; my physic is white wine." + +So saying, he untied a bundle, out of which he took the fancy costume of +a waterman, and proceeded to dress himself in it. + +In vain I tried to awaken some fellow-feeling for the unfortunate man who +lay groaning there close by him; being entirely taken up with the +thoughts of his expected pleasure, Pierre would hardly so much as hear +me. At last his coarse selfishness provoked me. I began reproaching +instead of remonstrating with him, and I declared him responsible for the +consequences which such a desertion must bring upon the sick man. + +At this the bookbinder, who was just going, stopped with an oath, and +stamped his foot. "Am I to spend my Carnival in heating water for +footbaths, pray?" + +"You must not leave your comrade to die without help!" I replied. + +"Let him go to the hospital, then!" + +"How can he by himself?" + +Pierre seemed to make up his mind. + +"Well, I'm going to take him," resumed he; "besides, I shall get rid of +him sooner. Come, get up, comrade!" He shook his comrade, who had not +taken off his clothes. I observed that he was too weak to walk, but the +bookbinder would not listen: he made him get up, and half dragged, half +supported him to the lodge of the porter, who ran for a hackney carriage. +I saw the sick man get into it, almost fainting, with the impatient +waterman; and they both set off, one perhaps to die, the other to dine at +Courtville Gardens! + + +Six o'clock.--I have been to knock at my neighbor's door, who opened it +himself; and I have given him his letter, finished at last, and directed +to his son's widow. M. Antoine thanked me gratefully, and made me sit +down. + +It was the first time I had been into the attic of the old amateur. +Curtains stained with damp and hanging down in rags, a cold stove, a bed +of straw, two broken chairs, composed all the furniture. At the end of +the room were a great number of prints in a heap, and paintings without +frames turned against the wall. + +At the moment I came in, the old man was making his dinner on some hard +crusts of bread, which he was soaking in a glass of 'eau sucree'. He +perceived that my eyes fell upon his hermit fare, and he looked a little +ashamed. + +"There is nothing to tempt you in my supper, neighbor," said he, with a +smile. + +I replied that at least I thought it a very philosophical one for the +Carnival. + +M. Antoine shook his head, and went on again with his supper. + +"Every one keeps his holidays in his own way," resumed he, beginning +again to dip a crust into his glass. "There are several sorts of +epicures, and not all feasts are meant to regale the palate; there are +some also for the ears and the eyes." + +I looked involuntarily round me, as if to seek for the invisible banquet +which could make up to him for such a supper. + +Without doubt he understood me; for he got up slowly, and, with the +magisterial air of a man confident in what he is about to do, he rummaged +behind several picture frames, drew forth a painting, over which he +passed his hand, and silently placed it under the light of the lamp. + +It represented a fine-looking old man, seated at table with his wife, his +daughter, and his children, and singing to the accompaniment of musicians +who appeared in the background. At first sight I recognized the subject, +which I had often admired at the Louvre, and I declared it to be a +splendid copy of Jordaens. + +"A copy!" cried M. Antoine; "say an original, neighbor, and an original +retouched by Rubens! Look closer at the head of the old man, the dress +of the young woman, and the accessories. One can count the pencil- +strokes of the Hercules of painters. It is not only a masterpiece, sir; +it is a treasure--a relic! The picture at the Louvre may be a pearl, +this is a diamond!" + +And resting it against the stove, so as to place it in the best light, +he fell again to soaking his crusts, without taking his eyes off the +wonderful picture. One would have said that the sight of it gave the +crusts an unexpected relish, for he chewed them slowly, and emptied his +glass by little sips. His shrivelled features became smooth, his +nostrils expanded; it was indeed, as he said himself, "a feast for the +eyes." + +"You see that I also have my treat," he resumed, nodding his head with an +air of triumph. "Others may run after dinners and balls; as for me, this +is the pleasure I give myself for my Carnival." + +"But if this painting is really so precious," replied I, "it ought to be +worth a high price." + +"Eh! eh!" said M. Antoine, with an air of proud indifference. "In good +times, a good judge might value it at somewhere about twenty thousand +francs." + +I started back. + +"And you have bought it?" cried I. + +"For nothing," replied he, lowering his voice. "These brokers are asses; +mine mistook this for a student's copy; he let me have it for fifty +louis, ready money! This morning I took them to him, and now he wishes +to be off the bargain." + +"This morning!" repeated I, involuntarily casting my eyes on the letter +containing the refusal that M. Antoine had made me write to his son's +widow, which was still on the little table. + +He took no notice of my exclamation, and went on contemplating the work +of Jordaens in an ecstasy. + +"What a knowledge of chiaroscuro!" he murmured, biting his last crust in +delight. "What relief! what fire! Where can one find such transparency +of color! such magical lights! such force! such nature!" + +As I was listening to him in silence, he mistook my astonishment for +admiration, and clapped me on the shoulder. + +"You are dazzled," said he merrily; "you did not expect such a treasure! +What do you say to the bargain I have made?" + +"Pardon me," replied I, gravely; "but I think you might have done +better." + +M. Antoine raised his head. + +"How!" cried he; "do you take me for a man likely to be deceived about +the merit or value of a painting?" + +"I neither doubt your taste nor your skill; but I cannot help thinking +that, for the price of this picture of a family party, you might have +had--" + +"What then?" + +"The family itself, sir." + +The old amateur cast a look at me, not of anger, but of contempt. +In his eyes I had evidently just proved myself a barbarian, incapable of +understanding the arts, and unworthy of enjoying them. He got up without +answering me, hastily took up the Jordaens, and replaced it in its +hiding-place behind the prints. + +It was a sort of dismissal; I took leave of him, and went away. + + +Seven o'clock.--When I come in again, I find my water boiling over my +lamp, and I busy myself in grinding my Mocha, and setting out my coffee- +things. + +The getting coffee ready is the most delicate and most attractive of +domestic operations to one who lives alone: it is the grand work of a +bachelor's housekeeping. + +Coffee is, so to say, just the mid-point between bodily and spiritual +nourishment. It acts agreeably, and at the same time, upon the senses +and the thoughts. Its very fragrance gives a sort of delightful activity +to the wits; it is a genius that lends wings to our fancy, and transports +it to the land of the Arabian Nights. + +When I am buried in my old easy-chair, my feet on the fender before a +blazing fire, my ear soothed by the singing of the coffee-pot, which +seems to gossip with my fire-irons, the sense of smell gently excited by +the aroma of the Arabian bean, and my eyes shaded by my cap pulled down +over them, it often seems as if each cloud of the fragrant steam took a +distinct form. As in the mirages of the desert, in each as it rises, I +see some image of which my mind had been longing for the reality. + +At first the vapor increases, and its color deepens. I see a cottage on +a hillside: behind is a garden shut in by a whitethorn hedge, and through +the garden runs a brook, on the banks of which I hear the bees humming. + +Then the view opens still more. See those fields planted with apple- +trees, in which I can distinguish a plough and horses waiting for their +master! Farther on, in a part of the wood which rings with the sound of +the axe, I perceive the woodsman's hut, roofed with turf and branches; +and, in the midst of all these rural pictures, I seem to see a figure of +myself gliding about. It is my ghost walking in my dream! + +The bubbling of the water, ready to boil over, compels me to break off my +meditations, in order to fill up the coffee-pot. I then remember that I +have no cream; I take my tin can off the hook and go down to the +milkwoman's. + +Mother Denis is a hale countrywoman from Savoy, which she left when quite +young; and, contrary to the custom of the Savoyards, she has not gone +back to it again. She has neither husband nor child, notwithstanding the +title they give her; but her kindness, which never sleeps, makes her +worthy of the name of mother. + +A brave creature! Left by herself in the battle of life, she makes good +her humble place in it by working, singing, helping others, and leaving +the rest to God. + +At the door of the milk-shop I hear loud bursts of laughter. In one of +the corners of the shop three children are sitting on the ground. They +wear the sooty dress of Savoyard boys, and in their hands they hold large +slices of bread and cheese. The youngest is besmeared up to the eyes +with his, and that is the reason of their mirth. + +Mother Denis points them out to me. + +"Look at the little lambs, how they enjoy themselves!" said she, putting +her hand on the head of the little glutton. + +"He has had no breakfast," puts in one of the others by way of excuse. + +"Poor little thing," said the milkwoman; "he is left alone in the streets +of Paris, where he can find no other father than the All-good God!" + +"And that is why you make yourself a mother to them?" I replied, gently. + +"What I do is little enough," said Mother Denis, measuring out my milk; +"but every day I get some of them together out of the street, that for +once they may have enough to eat. Dear children! their mothers will make +up for it in heaven. Not to mention that they recall my native mountains +to me: when they sing and dance, I seem to see our old father again." + +Here her eyes filled with tears. + +"So you are repaid by your recollections for the good you do them?" +resumed I. + +"Yes! yes!" said she, "and by their happiness, too! The laughter of +these little ones, sir, is like a bird's song; it makes you gay, and +gives you heart to live." + +As she spoke she cut some fresh slices of bread and cheese, and added +some apples and a handful of nuts to them. + +"Come, my little dears," she cried, "put these into your pockets against +to-morrow." + +Then, turning to me: + +"To-day I am ruining myself," added she; "but we must all have our +Carnival." + +I came away without saying a word: I was too much affected. + +At last I have discovered what true pleasure is. After beholding the +egotism of sensuality and of intellect, I have found the happy self- +sacrifice of goodness. Pierre, M. Antoine, and Mother Denis had all kept +their Carnival; but for the first two, it was only a feast for the senses +or the mind; while for the third, it was a feast for the heart. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +WHAT WE MAY LEARN BY LOOKING OUT OF WINDOW + +March 3d + +A poet has said that life is the dream of a shadow: he would better have +compared it to a night of fever! What alternate fits of restlessness and +sleep! what discomfort! what sudden starts! what ever-returning thirst! +what a chaos of mournful and confused fancies! We can neither sleep nor +wake; we seek in vain for repose, and we stop short on the brink of +action. Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation, and the +last third in repenting. + +When I say human existence, I mean my own! We are so made that each of +us regards himself as the mirror of the community: what passes in our +minds infallibly seems to us a history of the universe. Every man is +like the drunkard who reports an earthquake, because he feels himself +staggering. + +And why am I uncertain and restless--I, a poor day-laborer in the world-- +who fill an obscure station in a corner of it, and whose work it avails +itself of, without heeding the workman? I will tell you, my unseen +friend, for whom these lines are written; my unknown brother, on whom the +solitary call in sorrow; my imaginary confidant, to whom all monologues +are addressed and who is but the shadow of our own conscience. + +A great event has happened in my life! A crossroad has suddenly opened +in the middle of the monotonous way along which I was travelling quietly, +and without thinking of it. Two roads present themselves, and I must +choose between them. One is only the continuation of that I have +followed till now; the other is wider, and exhibits wondrous prospects. +On the first there is nothing to fear, but also little to hope; on the +other are great dangers and great fortune. Briefly, the question is, +whether I shall give up the humble office in which I thought to die, for +one of those bold speculations in which chance alone is banker! Ever +since yesterday I have consulted with myself; I have compared the two and +I remain undecided. + +Where shall I find light--who will advise me? + + +Sunday, 4th.--See the sun coming out from the thick fogs of winter! +Spring announces its approach; a soft breeze skims over the roofs, and my +wallflower begins to blow again. + +We are near that sweet season of fresh green, of which the poets of the +sixteenth century sang with so much feeling: + + Now the gladsome month of May + All things newly doth array; + Fairest lady, let me too + In thy love my life renew. + +The chirping of the sparrows calls me: they claim the crumbs I scatter to +them every morning. I open my window, and the prospect of roofs opens +out before me in all its splendor. + +He who has lived only on a first floor has no idea of the picturesque +variety of such a view. He has never contemplated these tile-colored +heights which intersect each other; he has not followed with his eyes +these gutter-valleys, where the fresh verdure of the attic gardens waves, +the deep shadows which evening spreads over the slated slopes, and the +sparkling of windows which the setting sun has kindled to a blaze of +fire. He has not studied the flora of these Alps of civilization, +carpeted by lichens and mosses; he is not acquainted with the myriad +inhabitants that people them, from the microscopic insect to the domestic +cat--that reynard of the roofs who is always on the prowl, or in ambush; +he has not witnessed the thousand aspects of a clear or a cloudy sky; nor +the thousand effects of light, that make these upper regions a theatre +with ever-changing scenes! How many times have my days of leisure passed +away in contemplating this wonderful sight; in discovering its darker or +brighter episodes; in seeking, in short, in this unknown world for the +impressions of travel that wealthy tourists look for lower! + + +Nine o'clock.--But why, then, have not my winged neighbors picked up the +crumbs I have scattered for them before my window? I see them fly away, +come back, perch upon the ledges of the windows, and chirp at the sight +of the feast they are usually so ready to devour! It is not my presence +that frightens them; I have accustomed them to eat out of my hand. Then, +why this fearful suspense? In vain I look around: the roof is clear, the +windows near are closed. I crumble the bread that remains from my +breakfast to attract them by an ampler feast. Their chirpings increase, +they bend down their heads, the boldest approach upon the wing, but +without daring to alight. + +Come, come, my sparrows are the victims of one of the foolish panics +which make the funds fall at the Bourse! It is plain that birds are not +more reasonable than men! + +With this reflection I was about to shut my window, when suddenly I +perceived, in a spot of sunshine on my right, the shadow of two pricked- +up ears; then a paw advanced, then the head of a tabby-cat showed itself +at the corner of the gutter. The cunning fellow was lying there in wait, +hoping the crumbs would bring him some game. + +And I had accused my guests of cowardice! I was so sure that no danger +could menace them! I thought I had looked well everywhere! I had only +forgotten the corner behind me! + +In life, as on the roofs, how many misfortunes come from having forgotten +a single corner! + + +Ten o'clock.--I cannot leave my window; the rain and the cold have kept +it shut so long that I must reconnoitre all the environs to be able to +take possession of them again. My eyes search in succession all the +points of the jumbled and confused prospect, passing on or stopping +according to what they light upon. + +Ah! see the windows upon which they formerly loved to rest; they are +those of two unknown neighbors, whose different habits they have long +remarked. + +One is a poor work-woman, who rises before sunrise, and whose profile is +shadowed upon her little muslin window-curtain far into the evening; the +other is a young songstress, whose vocal flourishes sometimes reach my +attic by snatches. When their windows are open, that of the work-woman +discovers a humble but decent abode; the other, an elegantly furnished +room. But to-day a crowd of tradespeople throng the latter: they take +down the silk hangings and carry off the furniture, and I now remember +that the young singer passed under my window this morning with her veil +down, and walking with the hasty step of one who suffers some inward +trouble. Ah! I guess it all. Her means are exhausted in elegant +fancies, or have been taken away by some unexpected misfortune, and now +she has fallen from luxury to indigence. While the work-woman manages +not only to keep her little room, but also to furnish it with decent +comfort by her steady toil, that of the singer is become the property of +brokers. The one sparkled for a moment on the wave of prosperity; the +other sails slowly but safely along the coast of a humble and laborious +industry. + +Alas! is there not here a lesson for us all? Is it really in hazardous +experiments, at the end of which we shall meet with wealth or ruin, that +the wise man should employ his years of strength and freedom? Ought he +to consider life as a regular employment which brings its daily wages, +or as a game in which the future is determined by a few throws? Why seek +the risk of extreme chances? For what end hasten to riches by dangerous +roads? Is it really certain that happiness is the prize of brilliant +successes, rather than of a wisely accepted poverty? Ah! if men but knew +in what a small dwelling joy can live, and how little it costs to furnish +it! + + +Twelve o'clock.--I have been walking up and down my attic for a long +time, with my arms folded and my eyes on the ground! My doubts increase, +like shadows encroaching more and more on some bright space; my fears +multiply; and the uncertainty becomes every moment more painful to me! +It is necessary for me to decide to-day, and before the evening! I hold +the dice of my future fate in my hands, and I dare not throw them. + + +Three o'clock.--The sky has become cloudy, and a cold wind begins to blow +from the west; all the windows which were opened to the sunshine of a +beautiful day are shut again. Only on the opposite side of the street, +the lodger on the last story has not yet left his balcony. + +One knows him to be a soldier by his regular walk, his gray moustaches, +and the ribbon that decorates his buttonhole. Indeed, one might have +guessed as much from the care he takes of the little garden which is the +ornament of his balcony in mid-air; for there are two things especially +loved by all old soldiers--flowers and children. They have been so long, +obliged to look upon the earth as a field of battle, and so long cut off +from the peaceful pleasures of a quiet lot, that they seem to begin life +at an age when others end it. The tastes of their early years, which +were arrested by the stern duties of war, suddenly break out again with +their white hairs, and are like the savings of youth which they spend +again in old age. Besides, they have been condemned to be destroyers for +so long that perhaps they feel a secret pleasure in creating, and seeing +life spring up again: the beauty of weakness has a grace and an +attraction the more for those who have been the agents of unbending +force; and the watching over the frail germs of life has all the charms +of novelty for these old workmen of death. + +Therefore the cold wind has not driven my neighbor from his balcony. +He is digging up the earth in his green boxes, and carefully sowing the +seeds of the scarlet nasturtium, convolvulus, and sweet-pea. Henceforth +he will come every day to watch for their first sprouting, to protect the +young shoots from weeds or insects, to arrange the strings for the +tendrils to climb on, and carefully to regulate their supply of water and +heat! + +How much labor to bring in the desired harvest! For that, how many times +shall I see him brave cold or heat, wind or sun, as he does to-day! But +then, in the hot summer days, when the blinding dust whirls in clouds +through our streets, when the eye, dazzled by the glare of white stucco, +knows not where to rest, and the glowing roofs reflect their heat upon us +to burning, the old soldier will sit in his arbor and perceive nothing +but green leaves and flowers around him, and the breeze will come cool +and fresh to him through these perfumed shades. His assiduous care will +be rewarded at last. + +We must sow the seeds, and tend the growth, if we would enjoy the flower. + + +Four o'clock.--The clouds that have been gathering in the horizon for a +long time are become darker; it thunders loudly, and the rain pours down! +Those who are caught in it fly in every direction, some laughing and some +crying. + +I always find particular amusement in these helter-skelters, caused by a +sudden storm. It seems as if each one, when thus taken by surprise, +loses the factitious character that the world or habit has given him, +and appears in his true colors. + +See, for example, that big man with deliberate step, who suddenly forgets +his indifference, made to order, and runs like a schoolboy! He is a +thrifty city gentleman, who, with all his fashionable airs, is afraid to +spoil his hat. + +That pretty woman yonder, on the contrary, whose looks are so modest, +and whose dress is so elaborate, slackens her pace with the increasing +storm. She seems to find pleasure in braving it, and does not think of +her velvet cloak spotted by the hail! She is evidently a lioness in +sheep's clothing. + +Here, a young man, who was passing, stops to catch some of the hailstones +in his hand, and examines them. By his quick and business-like walk just +now, you would have taken him for a tax-gatherer on his rounds, when he +is a young philosopher, studying the effects of electricity. And those +schoolboys who leave their ranks to run after the sudden gusts of a March +whirlwind; those girls, just now so demure, but who now fly with bursts +of laughter; those national guards, who quit the martial attitude of +their days of duty to take refuge under a porch! The storm has caused +all these transformations. + +See, it increases! The hardiest are obliged to seek shelter. I see +every one rushing toward the shop in front of my window, which a bill +announces is to let. It is for the fourth time within a few months. +A year ago all the skill of the joiner and the art of the painter were +employed in beautifying it, but their works are already destroyed by the +leaving of so many tenants; the cornices of the front are disfigured by +mud; the arabesques on the doorway are spoiled by bills posted upon them +to announce the sale of the effects. The splendid shop has lost some of +its embellishments with each change of the tenant. See it now empty, and +left open to the passersby. How much does its fate resemble that of so +many who, like it, only change their occupation to hasten the faster to +ruin! + +I am struck by this last reflection: since the morning everything seems +to speak to me, and with the same warning tone. Everything says: "Take +care! be content with your happy, though humble lot; happiness can be +retained only by constancy; do not forsake your old patrons for the +protection of those who are unknown!" + +Are they the outward objects which speak thus, or does the warning come +from within? Is it not I myself who give this language to all that +surrounds me? The world is but an instrument, to which we give sound at +will. But what does it signify if it teaches us wisdom? The low voice +that speaks in our breasts is always a friendly voice, for it tells us +what we are, that is to say, what is our capability. Bad conduct +results, for the most part, from mistaking our calling. There are so +many fools and knaves, because there are so few men who know themselves. +The question is not to discover what will suit us, but for what we are +suited! + +What should I do among these many experienced financial speculators? I +am only a poor sparrow, born among the housetops, and should always fear +the enemy crouching in the dark corner; I am a prudent workman, and +should think of the business of my neighbors who so suddenly disappeared; +I am a timid observer, and should call to mind the flowers so slowly +raised by the old soldier, or the shop brought to ruin by constant change +of masters. Away from me, ye banquets, over which hangs the sword of +Damocles! I am a country mouse. Give me my nuts and hollow tree, and I +ask nothing besides--except security. + +And why this insatiable craving for riches? Does a man drink more when +he drinks from a large glass? Whence comes that universal dread of +mediocrity, the fruitful mother of peace and liberty? Ah! there is the +evil which, above every other, it should be the aim of both public and +private education to anticipate! If that were got rid of, what treasons +would be spared, what baseness avoided, what a chain of excess and crime +would be forever broken! We award the palm to charity, and to self- +sacrifice; but, above all, let us award it to moderation, for it is the +great social virtue. Even when it does not create the others, it stands +instead of them. + + +Six o'clock.--I have written a letter of thanks to the promoters of the +new speculation, and have declined their offer! This decision has +restored my peace of mind. I stopped singing, like the cobbler, as long +as I entertained the hope of riches: it is gone, and happiness is come +back! + +O beloved and gentle Poverty! pardon me for having for a moment wished +to fly from thee, as I would from Want. Stay here forever with thy +charming sisters, Pity, Patience, Sobriety, and Solitude; be ye my queens +and my instructors; teach me the stern duties of life; remove far from my +abode the weakness of heart and giddiness of head which follow +prosperity. Holy Poverty! teach me to endure without complaining, to +impart without grudging, to seek the end of life higher than in pleasure, +farther off than in power. Thou givest the body strength, thou makest +the mind more firm; and, thanks to thee, this life, to which the rich +attach themselves as to a rock, becomes a bark of which death may cut the +cable without awakening all our fears. Continue to sustain me, O thou +whom Christ hath called Blessed! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +LET US LOVE ONE ANOTHER + +April 9th + +The fine evenings are come back; the trees begin to put forth their +shoots; hyacinths, jonquils, violets, and lilacs perfume the baskets of +the flower-girls--all the world have begun their walks again on the quays +and boulevards. After dinner, I, too, descend from my attic to breathe +the evening air. + +It is the hour when Paris is seen in all its beauty. During the day the +plaster fronts of the houses weary the eye by their monotonous whiteness; +heavily laden carts make the streets shake under their huge wheels; the +eager crowd, taken up by the one fear of losing a moment from business, +cross and jostle one another; the aspect of the city altogether has +something harsh, restless, and flurried about it. But, as soon as the +stars appear, everything is changed; the glare of the white houses is +quenched in the gathering shades; you hear no more any rolling but that +of the carriages on their way to some party of pleasure; you see only the +lounger or the light-hearted passing by; work has given place to leisure. +Now each one may breathe after the fierce race through the business of +the day, and whatever strength remains to him he gives to pleasure! See +the ballrooms lighted up, the theatres open, the eating-shops along the +walks set out with dainties, and the twinkling lanterns of the newspaper +criers. Decidedly Paris has laid aside the pen, the ruler, and the +apron; after the day spent in work, it must have the evening for +enjoyment; like the masters of Thebes, it has put off all serious matter +till tomorrow. + +I love to take part in this happy hour; not to mix in the general gayety, +but to contemplate it. If the enjoyments of others embitter jealous +minds, they strengthen the humble spirit; they are the beams of sunshine, +which open the two beautiful flowers called trust and hope. + +Although alone in the midst of the smiling multitude, I do not feel +myself isolated from it, for its gayety is reflected upon me: it is my +own kind, my own family, who are enjoying life, and I take a brother's +share in their happiness. We are all fellow-soldiers in this earthly +battle, and what does it matter on whom the honors of the victory fall? +If Fortune passes by without seeing us, and pours her favors on others, +let us console ourselves, like the friend of Parmenio, by saying, "Those, +too, are Alexanders." + +While making these reflections, I was going on as chance took me. I +crossed from one pavement to another, I retraced my steps, I stopped +before the shops or to read the handbills. How many things there are to +learn in the streets of Paris! What a museum it is! Unknown fruits, +foreign arms, furniture of old times or other lands, animals of all +climates, statues of great men, costumes of distant nations! It is the +world seen in samples! + +Let us then look at this people, whose knowledge is gained from the shop- +windows and the tradesman's display of goods. Nothing has been taught +them, but they have a rude notion of everything. They have seen +pineapples at Chevet's, a palm-tree in the Jardin des Plantes, sugar- +canes selling on the Pont-Neuf. The Redskins, exhibited in the Valentine +Hall, have taught them to mimic the dance of the bison, and to smoke the +calumet of peace; they have seen Carter's lions fed; they know the +principal national costumes contained in Babin's collection; Goupil's +display of prints has placed the tiger-hunts of Africa and the sittings +of the English Parliament before their eyes; they have become acquainted +with Queen Victoria, the Emperor of Austria, and Kossuth, at the office- +door of the Illustrated News. We can certainly instruct them, but not +astonish them; for nothing is completely new to them. You may take the +Paris ragamuffin through the five quarters of the world, and at every +wonder with which you think to surprise him, he will settle the matter +with that favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know." + +But this variety of exhibitions, which makes Paris the fair of the world, +does not offer merely a means of instruction to him who walks through it; +it is a continual spur for rousing the imagination, a first step of the +ladder always set up before us in a vision. When we see them, how many +voyages do we take in imagination, what adventures do we dream of, what +pictures do we sketch! I never look at that shop near the Chinese baths, +with its tapestry hangings of Florida jessamine, and filled with +magnolias, without seeing the forest glades of the New World, described +by the author of Atala, opening themselves out before me. + +Then, when this study of things and this discourse of reason begin to +tire you, look around you! What contrasts of figures and faces you see +in the crowd! What a vast field for the exercise of meditation! A half- +seen glance, or a few words caught as the speaker passes by, open a +thousand vistas to your imagination. You wish to comprehend what these +imperfect disclosures mean, and, as the antiquary endeavors to decipher +the mutilated inscription on some old monument, you build up a history on +a gesture or on a word! These are the stirring sports of the mind, which +finds in fiction a relief from the wearisome dullness of the actual. + +Alas! as I was just now passing by the carriage-entrance of a great +house, I noticed a sad subject for one of these histories. A man was +sitting in the darkest corner, with his head bare, and holding out his +hat for the charity of those who passed. His threadbare coat had that +look of neatness which marks that destitution has been met by a long +struggle. He had carefully buttoned it up to hide the want of a shirt. +His face was half hid under his gray hair, and his eyes were closed, as +if he wished to escape the sight of his own humiliation, and he remained +mute and motionless. Those who passed him took no notice of the beggar, +who sat in silence and darkness! They had been so lucky as to escape +complaints and importunities, and were glad to turn away their eyes too. + +Suddenly the great gate turned on its hinges; and a very low carriage, +lighted with silver lamps and drawn by two black horses, came slowly out, +and took the road toward the Faubourg St. Germain. I could just +distinguish, within, the sparkling diamonds and the flowers of a ball- +dress; the glare of the lamps passed like a bloody streak over the pale +face of the beggar, and showed his look as his eyes opened and followed +the rich man's equipage until it disappeared in the night. + +I dropped a small piece of money into the hat he was holding out, and +passed on quickly. + +I had just fallen unexpectedly upon the two saddest secrets of the +disease which troubles the age we live in: the envious hatred of him who +suffers want, and the selfish forgetfulness of him who lives in +affluence. + +All the enjoyment of my walk was gone; I left off looking about me, and +retired into my own heart. The animated and moving sight in the streets +gave place to inward meditation upon all the painful problems which have +been written for the last four thousand years at the bottom of each human +struggle, but which are propounded more clearly than ever in our days. + +I pondered on the uselessness of so many contests, in which defeat and +victory only displace each other by turns, and on the mistaken zealots +who have repeated from generation to generation the bloody history of +Cain and Abel; and, saddened with these mournful reflections, I walked on +as chance took me, until the silence all around insensibly drew me out +from my own thoughts. + +I had reached one of the remote streets, in which those who would live in +comfort and without ostentation, and who love serious reflection, delight +to find a home. There were no shops along the dimly lighted street; one +heard no sounds but of distant carriages, and of the steps of some of the +inhabitants returning quietly home. + +I instantly recognized the street, though I had been there only once +before. + +That was two years ago. I was walking at the time by the side of the +Seine, to which the lights on the quays and bridges gave the aspect of a +lake surrounded by a garland of stars; and I had reached the Louvre, when +I was stopped by a crowd collected near the parapet they had gathered +round a child of about six, who was crying, and I asked the cause of his +tears. + +"It seems that he was sent to walk in the Tuileries," said a mason, who +was returning from his work with his trowel in his hand; "the servant who +took care of him met with some friends there, and told the child to wait +for him while he went to get a drink; but I suppose the drink made him +more thirsty, for he has not come back, and the child cannot find his way +home." + +"Why do they not ask him his name, and where he lives?" + +"They have been doing it for the last hour; but all he can say is, that +he is called Charles, and that his father is Monsieur Duval--there are +twelve hundred Duvals in Paris." + +"Then he does not know in what part of the town he lives?" + +"I should not think, indeed! Don't you see that he is a gentleman's +child? He has never gone out except in a carriage or with a servant; he +does not know what to do by himself." + +Here the mason was interrupted by some of the voices rising above the +others. + +"We cannot leave him in the street," said some. + +"The child-stealers would carry him off," continued others. + +"We must take him to the overseer." + +"Or to the police-office." + +"That's the thing. Come, little one!" + +But the child, frightened by these suggestions of danger, and at the +names of police and overseer, cried louder, and drew back toward the +parapet. In vain they tried to persuade him; his fears made him resist +the more, and the most eager began to get weary, when the voice of a +little boy was heard through the confusion. + +"I know him well--I do," said he, looking at the lost child; "he belongs +in our part of the town." + +"What part is it?" + +"Yonder, on the other side of the Boulevards--Rue des Magasins." + +"And you have seen him before?" + +"Yes, yes! he belongs to the great house at the end of the street, where +there is an iron gate with gilt points." + +The child quickly raised his head, and stopped crying. The little boy +answered all the questions that were put to him, and gave such details as +left no room for doubt. The other child understood him, for he went up +to him as if to put himself under his protection. + +"Then you can take him to his parents?" asked the mason, who had +listened with real interest to the little boy's account. + +"I don't care if I do," replied he; "it's the way I'm going." + +"Then you will take charge of him?" + +"He has only to come with me." + +And, taking up the basket he had put down on the pavement, he set off +toward the postern-gate of the Louvre. + +The lost child followed him. + +"I hope he will take him right," said I, when I saw them go away. + +"Never fear," replied the mason; "the little one in the blouse is the +same age as the other; but, as the saying is, he knows black from white;' +poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress!" + +The crowd dispersed. For my part, I went toward the Louvre; the thought +came into my head to follow the two children, so as to guard against any +mistake. + +I was not long in overtaking them; they were walking side by side, +talking, and already quite familiar with each other. The contrast in +their dress then struck me. Little Duval wore one of those fanciful +children's dresses which are expensive as well as in good taste; his coat +was skilfully fitted to his figure, his trousers came down in plaits from +his waist to his boots of polished leather with mother-of-pearl buttons, +and his ringlets were half hid by a velvet cap. The appearance of his +guide, on the contrary, was that of the class who dwell on the extreme +borders of poverty, but who there maintain their ground with no +surrender. His old blouse, patched with pieces of different shades, +indicated the perseverance of an industrious mother struggling against +the wear and tear of time; his trousers were become too short, and showed +his stockings darned over and over again; and it was evident that his +shoes were not made for him. + +The countenances of the two children were not less different than their +dress. That of the first was delicate and refined; his clear blue eye, +his fair skin, and his smiling mouth gave him a charming look of +innocence and happiness. The features of the other, on the contrary, had +something rough in them; his eye was quick and lively, his complexion +dark, his smile less merry than shrewd; all showed a mind sharpened by +too early experience; he walked boldly through the middle of the streets +thronged by carriages, and followed their countless turnings without +hesitation. + +I found, on asking him, that every day he carried dinner to his father, +who was then working on the left bank of the Seine; and this responsible +duty had made him careful and prudent. He had learned those hard but +forcible lessons of necessity which nothing can equal or supply the place +of. Unfortunately, the wants of his poor family had kept him from +school, and he seemed to feel the loss; for he often stopped before the +printshops, and asked his companion to read him the names of the +engravings. In this way we reached the Boulevard Bonne Nouvelle, which +the little wanderer seemed to know again. Notwithstanding his fatigue, +he hurried on; he was agitated by mixed feelings; at the sight of his +house he uttered a cry, and ran toward the iron gate with the gilt +points; a lady who was standing at the entrance received him in her arms, +and from the exclamations of joy, and the sound of kisses, I soon +perceived she was his mother. + +Not seeing either the servant or child return, she had sent in search of +them in every direction, and was waiting for them in intense anxiety. + +I explained to her in a few words what had happened. She thanked me +warmly, and looked round for the little boy who had recognized and +brought back her son; but while we were talking, he had disappeared. + +It was for the first time since then that I had come into this part of +Paris. Did the mother continue grateful? Had the children met again, +and had the happy chance of their first meeting lowered between them that +barrier which may mark the different ranks of men, but should not divide +them? + +While putting these questions to myself, I slackened my pace, and fixed +my eyes on the great gate, which I just perceived. Suddenly I saw it +open, and two children appeared at the entrance. Although much grown, +I recognized them at first sight; they were the child who was found near +the parapet of the Louvre, and his young guide. But the dress of the +latter was greatly changed: his blouse of gray cloth was neat, and even +spruce, and was fastened round the waist by a polished leather belt; he +wore strong shoes, but made for his feet, and had on a new cloth cap. +Just at the moment I saw him, he held in his two hands an enormous bunch +of lilacs, to which his companion was trying to add narcissuses and +primroses; the two children laughed, and parted with a friendly good-by. +M. Duval's son did not go in till he had seen the other turn the corner +of the street. + +Then I accosted the latter, and reminded him of our former meeting; he +looked at me for a moment, and then seemed to recollect me. + +"Forgive me if I do not make you a bow," said he, merrily, "but I want +both my hands for the nosegay Monsieur Charles has given me." + +"You are, then, become great friends?" said I. + +"Oh! I should think so," said the child; "and now my father is rich +too!" + +"How's that?" + +"Monsieur Duval lent him some money; he has taken a shop, where he works +on his own account; and, as for me, I go to school." + +"Yes," replied I, remarking for the first time the cross that decorated +his little coat; "and I see that you are head-boy!" + +"Monsieur Charles helps me to learn, and so I am come to be the first in +the class." + +"Are you now going to your lessons?" + +"Yes, and he has given me some lilacs; for he has a garden where we play +together, and where my mother can always have flowers." + +"Then it is the same as if it were partly your own." + +"So it is! Ah! they are good neighbors indeed. But here I am; good-by, +sir." + +He nodded to me with a smile, and disappeared. + +I went on with my walk, still pensive, but with a feeling of relief. +If I had elsewhere witnessed the painful contrast between affluence and +want, here I had found the true union of riches and poverty. Hearty +good-will had smoothed down the more rugged inequalities on both sides, +and had opened a road of true neighborhood and fellowship between the +humble workshop and the stately mansion. Instead of hearkening to the +voice of interest, they had both listened to that of self-sacrifice, +and there was no place left for contempt or envy. Thus, instead of the +beggar in rags, that I had seen at the other door cursing the rich man, +I had found here the happy child of the laborer loaded with flowers and +blessing him! The problem, so difficult and so dangerous to examine into +with no regard but for the rights of it, I had just seen solved by love. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +COMPENSATION + +Sunday, May 27th + +Capital cities have one thing peculiar to them: their days of rest seem +to be the signal for a general dispersion and flight. Like birds that +are just restored to liberty, the people come out of their stone cages, +and joyfully fly toward the country. It is who shall find a green +hillock for a seat, or the shade of a wood for a shelter; they gather May +flowers, they run about the fields; the town is forgotten until the +evening, when they return with sprigs of blooming hawthorn in their hats, +and their hearts gladdened by pleasant thoughts and recollections of the +past day; the next day they return again to their harness and to work. + +These rural adventures are most remarkable at Paris. When the fine +weather comes, clerks, shop keepers, and workingmen look forward +impatiently for the Sunday as the day for trying a few hours of this +pastoral life; they walk through six miles of grocers' shops and public- +houses in the faubourgs, in the sole hope of finding a real turnip-field. +The father of a family begins the practical education of his son by +showing him wheat which has not taken the form of a loaf, and cabbage "in +its wild state." Heaven only knows the encounters, the discoveries, the +adventures that are met with! What Parisian has not had his Odyssey in +an excursion through the suburbs, and would not be able to write a +companion to the famous Travels by Land and by Sea from Paris to St. +Cloud? + +We do not now speak of that floating population from all parts, for whom +our French Babylon is the caravansary of Europe: a phalanx of thinkers, +artists, men of business, and travellers, who, like Homer's hero, have +arrived in their intellectual country after beholding "many peoples and +cities;" but of the settled Parisian, who keeps his appointed place, and +lives on his own floor like the oyster on his rock, a curious vestige of +the credulity, the slowness, and the simplicity of bygone ages. + +For one of the singularities of Paris is, that it unites twenty +populations completely different in character and manners. By the +side of the gypsies of commerce and of art, who wander through all the +several stages of fortune or fancy, live a quiet race of people with an +independence, or with regular work, whose existence resembles the dial +of a clock, on which the same hand points by turns to the same hours. +If no other city can show more brilliant and more stirring forms of life, +no other contains more obscure and more tranquil ones. Great cities are +like the sea: storms agitate only the surface; if you go to the bottom, +you find a region inaccessible to the tumult and the noise. + +For my part, I have settled on the verge of this region, but do not +actually live in it. I am removed from the turmoil of the world, and +live in the shelter of solitude, but without being able to disconnect my +thoughts from the struggle going on. I follow at a distance all its +events of happiness or grief; I join the feasts and the funerals; for how +can he who looks on, and knows what passes, do other than take part? +Ignorance alone can keep us strangers to the life around us: selfishness +itself will not suffice for that. + +These reflections I made to myself in my attic, in the intervals of the +various household works to which a bachelor is forced when he has no +other servant than his own ready will. While I was pursuing my +deductions, I had blacked my boots, brushed my coat, and tied my cravat; +I had at last arrived at the important moment when we pronounce +complacently that all is finished, and that well. + +A grand resolve had just decided me to depart from my usual habits. +The evening before, I had seen by the advertisements that the next day +was a holiday at Sevres, and that the china manufactory would be open to +the public. I was tempted by the beauty of the morning, and suddenly +decided to go there. + +On my arrival at the station on the left bank, I noticed the crowd +hurrying on in the fear of being late. Railroads, besides many other +advantages, possess that of teaching the French punctuality. They will +submit to the clock when they are convinced that it is their master; +they will learn to wait when they find they will not be waited for. +Social virtues, are, in a great degree, good habits. How many great +qualities are grafted into nations by their geographical position, by +political necessity, and by institutions! Avarice was destroyed for a +time among the Lacedaemonians by the creation of an iron coinage, too +heavy and too bulky to be conveniently hoarded. + +I found myself in a carriage with two middle-aged women belonging to the +domestic and retired class of Parisians I have spoken of above. A few +civilities were sufficient to gain me their confidence, and after some +minutes I was acquainted with their whole history. + +They were two poor sisters, left orphans at fifteen, and had lived ever +since, as those who work for their livelihood must live, by economy and +privation. For the last twenty or thirty years they had worked in +jewelry in the same house; they had seen ten masters succeed one another, +and make their fortunes in it, without any change in their own lot. They +had always lived in the same room, at the end of one of the passages in +the Rue St. Denis, where the air and the sun are unknown. They began +their work before daylight, went on with it till after nightfall, and saw +year succeed to year without their lives being marked by any other events +than the Sunday service, a walk, or an illness. + +The younger of these worthy work-women was forty, and obeyed her sister +as she did when a child. The elder looked after her, took care of her, +and scolded her with a mother's tenderness. At first it was amusing; +afterward one could not help seeing something affecting in these two +gray-haired children, one unable to leave off the habit of obeying, the +other that of protecting. + +And it was not in that alone that my two companions seemed younger than +their years; they knew so little that their wonder never ceased. We had +hardly arrived at Clamart before they involuntarily exclaimed, like the +king in the children's game, that they "did not think the world was so +great"! + +It was the first time they had trusted themselves on a railroad, and it +was amusing to see their sudden shocks, their alarms, and their +courageous determinations: everything was a marvel to them! They had +remains of youth within them, which made them sensible to things which +usually only strike us in childhood. Poor creatures! they had still the +feelings of another age, though they had lost its charms. + +But was there not something holy in this simplicity, which had been +preserved to them by abstinence from all the joys of life? Ah! accursed +be he who first had the had courage to attach ridicule to that name of +"old maid," which recalls so many images of grievous deception, of +dreariness, and of abandonment! Accursed be he who can find a subject +for sarcasm in involuntary misfortune, and who can crown gray hairs with +thorns! + +The two sisters were called Frances and Madeleine. This day's journey +was a feat of courage without example in their lives. The fever of the +times had infected them unawares. Yesterday Madeleine had suddenly +proposed the idea of the expedition, and Frances had accepted it +immediately. Perhaps it would have been better not to yield to the great +temptation offered by her younger sister; but "we have our follies at all +ages," as the prudent Frances philosophically remarked. As for +Madeleine, there are no regrets or doubts for her; she is the life- +guardsman of the establishment. + +"We really must amuse ourselves," said she; "we live but once." + +And the elder sister smiled at this Epicurean maxim. It was evident that +the fever of independence was at its crisis in both of them. + +And in truth it would have been a great pity if any scruple had +interfered with their happiness, it was so frank and genial! The sight +of the trees, which seemed to fly on both sides of the road, caused them +unceasing admiration. The meeting a train passing in the contrary +direction, with the noise and rapidity of a thunderbolt, made them shut +their eyes and utter a cry; but it had already disappeared! They look +around, take courage again, and express themselves full of astonishment +at the marvel. + +Madeleine declares that such a sight is worth the expense of the journey, +and Frances would have agreed with her if she had not recollected, with +some little alarm, the deficit which such an expense must make in their +budget. The three francs spent upon this single expedition were the +savings of a whole week of work. Thus the joy of the elder of the two +sisters was mixed with remorse; the prodigal child now and then turned +its eyes toward the back street of St. Denis. + +But the motion and the succession of objects distract her. See the +bridge of the Val surrounded by its lovely landscape: on the right, Paris +with its grand monuments, which rise through the fog, or sparkle in the +sun; on the left, Meudon, with its villas, its woods, its vines, and its +royal castle! The two work-women look from one window to the other with +exclamations of delight. One fellow-passenger laughs at their childish +wonder; but to me it is deeply touching, for I see in it the sign of a +long and monotonous seclusion: they are the prisoners of work, who have +recovered liberty and fresh air for a few hours. + +At last the train stops, and we get out. I show the two sisters the path +that leads to Sevres, between the railway and the gardens, and they go on +before, while I inquire about the time of returning. + +I soon join them again at the next station, where they have stopped at +the little garden belonging to the gatekeeper; both are already in deep +conversation with him while he digs his garden-borders, and marks out the +places for flower-seeds. He informs them that it is the time for hoeing +out weeds, for making grafts and layers, for sowing annuals, and for +destroying the insects on the rose-trees. Madeleine has on the sill of +her window two wooden boxes, in which, for want of air and sun, she has +never been able to make anything grow but mustard and cress; but she +persuades herself that, thanks to this information, all other plants may +henceforth thrive in them. At last the gatekeeper, who is sowing a +border with mignonette, gives her the rest of the seeds which he does not +want, and the old maid goes off delighted, and begins to act over again +the dream of Paired and her can of milk, with these flowers of her +imagination. + +On reaching the grove of acacias, where the fair was going on, I lost +sight of the two sisters. I went alone among the sights: there were +lotteries going on, mountebank shows, places for eating and drinking, and +for shooting with the cross-bow. I have always been struck by the spirit +of these out-of-door festivities. In drawing-room entertainments, people +are cold, grave, often listless, and most of those who go there are +brought together by habit or the obligations of society; in the country +assemblies, on the contrary, you only find those who are attracted by the +hope of enjoyment. There, it is a forced conscription; here, they are +volunteers for gayety! Then, how easily they are pleased! How far this +crowd of people is yet from knowing that to be pleased with nothing, and +to look down on everything, is the height of fashion and good taste! +Doubtless their amusements are often coarse; elegance and refinement are +wanting in them; but at least they have heartiness. Oh, that the hearty +enjoyments of these merry-makings could be retained in union with less +vulgar feeling! Formerly religion stamped its holy character on the +celebration of country festivals, and purified the pleasures without +depriving them of their simplicity. + +The hour arrives at which the doors of the porcelain manufactory and the +museum of pottery are open to the public. I meet Frances and Madeleine +again in the first room. Frightened at finding themselves in the midst +of such regal magnificence, they hardly dare walk; they speak in a low +tone, as if they were in a church. + +"We are in the king's house," said the eldest sister, forgetting that +there is no longer a king in France. + +I encourage them to go on; I walk first, and they make up their minds to +follow me. + +What wonders are brought together in this collection! Here we see clay +moulded into every shape, tinted with every color, and combined with +every sort of substance! + +Earth and wood are the first substances worked upon by man, and seem more +particularly meant for his use. They, like the domestic animals, are the +essential accessories of his life; therefore there must be a more +intimate connection between them and us. Stone and metals require long +preparations; they resist our first efforts, and belong less to the +individual than to communities. Earth and wood are, on the contrary, the +principal instruments of the isolated being who must feed and shelter +himself. + +This, doubtless, makes me feel so much interested in the collection I am +examining. These cups, so roughly modelled by the savage, admit me to a +knowledge of some of his habits; these elegant yet incorrectly formed +vases of the Indian tell me of a declining intelligence,--in which still +glimmers the twilight of what was once bright sunshine; these jars, +loaded with arabesques, show the fancy of the Arab rudely and ignorantly +copied by the Spaniard! We find here the stamp of every race, every +country, and every age. + +My companions seemed little interested in these historical associations; +they looked at all with that credulous admiration which leaves no room +for examination or discussion. Madeleine read the name written under +every piece of workmanship, and her sister answered with an exclamation +of wonder. + +In this way we reached a little courtyard, where they had thrown away the +fragments of some broken china. + +Frances perceived a colored saucer almost whole, of which she took +possession as a record of the visit she was making; henceforth she would +have a specimen of the Sevres china, "which is only made for kings!" +I would not undeceive her by telling her that the products of the +manufactory are sold all over the world, and that her saucer, before it +was cracked, was the same as those that are bought at the shops for +sixpence! Why should I destroy the illusions of her humble existence? +Are we to break down the hedge-flowers that perfume our paths? Things +are oftenest nothing in themselves; the thoughts we attach to them alone +give them value. To rectify innocent mistakes, in order to recover some +useless reality, is to be like those learned men who will see nothing in +a plant but the chemical elements of which it is composed. + +On leaving the manufactory, the two sisters, who had taken possession of +me with the freedom of artlessness, invited me to share the luncheon they +had brought with them. I declined at first, but they insisted with so +much good-nature, that I feared to pain them, and with some awkwardness +gave way. + +We had only to look for a convenient spot. I led them up the hill, and +we found a plot of grass enamelled with daisies, and shaded by two +walnut-trees. + +Madeleine could not contain herself for joy. All her life she had +dreamed of a dinner out on the grass! While helping her sister to take +the provisions from the basket, she tells me of all her expeditions into +the country that had been planned, and put off. Frances, on the other +hand, was brought up at Montmorency, and before she became an orphan she +had often gone back to her nurse's house. That which had the attraction +of novelty for her sister, had for her the charm of recollection. She +told of the vintage harvests to which her parents had taken her; the +rides on Mother Luret's donkey, that they could not make go to the right +without pulling him to the left; the cherry-gathering; and the sails on +the lake in the innkeeper's boat. + +These recollections have all the charm and freshness of childhood. +Frances recalls to herself less what she has seen than what she has felt. +While she is talking the cloth is laid, and we sit down under a tree. +Before us winds the valley of Sevres, its many-storied houses abutting +upon the gardens and the slopes of the hill; on the other side spreads +out the park of St. Cloud, with its magnificent clumps of trees +interspersed with meadows; above stretch the heavens like an immense +ocean, in which the clouds are sailing! I look at this beautiful +country, and I listen to these good old maids; I admire, and I am +interested; and time passes gently on without my perceiving it. + +At last the sun sets, and we have to think of returning. While Madeleine +and Frances clear away the dinner, I walk down to the manufactory to ask +the hour. The merrymaking is at its height; the blasts of the trombones +resound from the band under the acacias. For a few moments I forget +myself with looking about; but I have promised the two sisters to take +them back to the Bellevue station; the train cannot wait, and I make +haste to climb the path again which leads to the walnut-trees. + +Just before I reached them, I heard voices on the other side of the +hedge. Madeleine and Frances were speaking to a poor girl whose clothes +were burned, her hands blackened, and her face tied up with bloodstained +bandages. I saw that she was one of the girls employed at the gunpowder +mills, which are built further up on the common. An explosion had taken +place a few days before; the girl's mother and elder sister were killed; +she herself escaped by a miracle, and was now left without any means of +support. She told all this with the resigned and unhopeful manner of one +who has always been accustomed to suffer. The two sisters were much +affected; I saw them consulting with each other in a low tone: then +Frances took thirty sous out of a little coarse silk purse, which was all +they had left, and gave them to the poor girl. I hastened on to that +side of the hedge; but, before I reached it, I met the two old sisters, +who called out to me that they would not return by the railway, but on +foot! + +I then understood that the money they had meant for the journey had just +been given to the beggar! Good, like evil, is contagious: I run to the +poor wounded girl, give her the sum that was to pay for my own place, and +return to Frances and Madeleine, and tell them I will walk with them. + + .......................... + +I am just come back from taking them home; and have left them delighted +with their day, the recollection of which will long make them happy. +This morning I was pitying those whose lives are obscure and joyless; +now, I understand that God has provided a compensation with every trial. +The smallest pleasure derives from rarity a relish otherwise unknown. +Enjoyment is only what we feel to be such, and the luxurious man feels no +longer: satiety has destroyed his appetite, while privation preserves to +the other that first of earthly blessings: the being easily made happy. +Oh, that I could persuade every one of this! that so the rich might not +abuse their riches, and that the poor might have patience. If happiness +is the rarest of blessings, it is because the reception of it is the +rarest of virtues. + +Madeleine and Frances! ye poor old maids whose courage, resignation, and +generous hearts are your only wealth, pray for the wretched who give +themselves up to despair; for the unhappy who hate and envy; and for the +unfeeling into whose enjoyments no pity enters. + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Brought them up to poverty +Carn-ival means, literally, "farewell to flesh!" +Coffee is the grand work of a bachelor's housekeeping +Defeat and victory only displace each other by turns +Did not think the world was so great +Do they understand what makes them so gay? +Each of us regards himself as the mirror of the community +Ease with which the poor forget their wretchedness +Every one keeps his holidays in his own way +Favorite and conclusive answer of his class--"I know" +Fear of losing a moment from business +Finishes his sin thoroughly before he begins to repent +Her kindness, which never sleeps +Hubbub of questions which waited for no reply +Moderation is the great social virtue +No one is so unhappy as to have nothing to give +Our tempers are like an opera-glass +Poverty, you see, is a famous schoolmistress +Prisoners of work +Question is not to discover what will suit us +Ruining myself, but we must all have our Carnival +Two thirds of human existence are wasted in hesitation +What a small dwelling joy can live + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v1 +by Emile Souvestre + diff --git a/3996.zip b/3996.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..4a02a76 --- /dev/null +++ b/3996.zip diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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