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D.W.] + + + + + +AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER +(Un Philosophe sous les Toits) + +By EMILE SOUVESTRE + + + +BOOK 2. + + +CHAPTER VI + +UNCLE MAURICE + +June 7th, Four O'clock A.M. + +I am not surprised at hearing, when I awake, the birds singing so +joyfully outside my window; it is only by living, as they and I do, in a +top story, that one comes to know how cheerful the mornings really are up +among the roofs. It is there that the sun sends his first rays, and the +breeze comes with the fragrance of the gardens and woods; there that a +wandering butterfly sometimes ventures among the flowers of the attic, +and that the songs of the industrious work-woman welcome the dawn of day. +The lower stories are still deep in sleep, silence, and shadow, while +here labor, light, and song already reign. + +What life is around me! See the swallow returning from her search for +food, with her beak full of insects for her young ones; the sparrows +shake the dew from their wings while they chase one another in the +sunshine; and my neighbors throw open their windows, and welcome the +morning with their fresh faces! Delightful hour of waking, when +everything returns to feeling and to motion; when the first light of day +strikes upon creation, and brings it to life again, as the magic wand +struck the palace of the Sleeping Beauty in the wood! It is a moment of +rest from every misery; the sufferings of the sick are allayed, and a +breath of hope enters into the hearts of the despairing. But, alas! it +is but a short respite! Everything will soon resume its wonted course: +the great human machine, with its long strains, its deep gasps, its +collisions, and its crashes, will be again put in motion. + +The tranquillity of this first morning hour reminds me of that of our +first years of life. Then, too, the sun shines brightly, the air is +fragrant, and the illusions of youth-those birds of our life's morning- +sing around us. Why do they fly away when we are older? Where do this +sadness and this solitude, which gradually steal upon us, come from? The +course seems to be the same with individuals and with communities: at +starting, so readily made happy, so easily enchanted; and at the goal, +the bitter disappointment or reality! The road, which began among +hawthorns and primroses, ends speedily in deserts or in precipices! Why +is there so much confidence at first, so much doubt at last? Has, then, +the knowledge of life no other end but to make it unfit for happiness? +Must we condemn ourselves to ignorance if we would preserve hope? Is the +world and is the individual man intended, after all, to find rest only in +an eternal childhood? + +How many times have I asked myself these questions! Solitude has the +advantage or the danger of making us continually search more deeply into +the same ideas. As our discourse is only with ourself, we always give +the same direction to the conversation; we are not called to turn it to +the subject which occupies another mind, or interests another's feelings; +and so an involuntary inclination makes us return forever to knock at the +same doors! + +I interrupted my reflections to put my attic in order. I hate the look +of disorder, because it shows either a contempt for details or an +unaptness for spiritual life. To arrange the things among which we have +to live, is to establish the relation of property and of use between them +and us: it is to lay the foundation of those habits without which man +tends to the savage state. What, in fact, is social organization but a +series of habits, settled in accordance with the dispositions of our +nature? + +I distrust both the intellect and the morality of those people to whom +disorder is of no consequence--who can live at ease in an Augean stable. +What surrounds us, reflects more or less that which is within us. The +mind is like one of those dark lanterns which, in spite of everything, +still throw some light around. If our tastes did not reveal our +character, they would be no longer tastes, but instincts. + +While I was arranging everything in my attic, my eyes rested on the +little almanac hanging over my chimney-piece. I looked for the day of +the month, and I saw these words written in large letters: "FETE DIEU!" + +It is to-day! In this great city, where there are no longer any public +religious solemnities, there is nothing to remind us of it; but it is, +in truth, the period so happily chosen by the primitive church. "The day +kept in honor of the Creator," says Chateaubriand, "happens at a time +when the heaven and the earth declare His power, when the woods and +fields are full of new life, and all are united by the happiest ties; +there is not a single widowed plant in the fields." + +What recollections these words have just awakened! I left off what I was +about, I leaned my elbows on the windowsill, and, with my head between my +two hands, I went back in thought to the little town where the first days +of my childhood were passed. + +The 'Fete Dieu' was then one of the great events of my life! It was +necessary to be diligent and obedient a long time beforehand, to deserve +to share in it. I still recollect with what raptures of expectation I +got up on the morning of the day. There was a holy joy in the air. The +neighbors, up earlier than usual, hung cloths with flowers or figures, +worked in tapestry, along the streets. I went from one to another, by +turns admiring religious scenes of the Middle Ages, mythological +compositions of the Renaissance, old battles in the style of Louis XIV, +and the Arcadias of Madame de Pompadour. All this world of phantoms +seemed to be coming forth from the dust of past ages, to assist--silent +and motionless--at the holy ceremony. I looked, alternately in fear and +wonder, at those terrible warriors with their swords always raised, those +beautiful huntresses shooting the arrow which never left the bow, and +those shepherds in satin breeches always playing the flute at the feet of +the perpetually smiling shepherdess. Sometimes, when the wind blew +behind these hanging pictures, it seemed to me that the figures +themselves moved, and I watched to see them detach themselves from the +wall, and take their places in the procession! But these impressions +were vague and transitory. The feeling that predominated over every +other was that of an overflowing yet quiet joy. In the midst of all the +floating draperies, the scattered flowers, the voices of the maidens, and +the gladness which, like a perfume, exhaled from everything, you felt +transported in spite of yourself. The joyful sounds of the festival were +repeated in your heart, in a thousand melodious echoes. You were more +indulgent, more holy, more loving! For God was not only manifesting +himself without, but also within us. + +And then the altars for the occasion! the flowery arbors! the triumphal +arches made of green boughs! What competition among the different +parishes for the erection of the resting-places where the procession was +to halt! It was who should contribute the rarest and the most beautiful +of his possessions! + +It was there I made my first sacrifice! + +The wreaths of flowers were arranged, the candles lighted, and the +Tabernacle dressed with roses; but one was wanting fit to crown the +whole! All the neighboring gardens had been ransacked. I alone +possessed a flower worthy of such a place. It was on the rose-tree given +me by my mother on my birthday. I had watched it for several months, and +there was no other bud to blow on the tree. There it was, half open, in +its mossy nest, the object of such long expectations, and of all a +child's pride! I hesitated for some moments. No one had asked me for +it; I might easily avoid losing it. I should hear no reproaches, but one +rose noiselessly within me. When every one else had given all they had, +ought I alone to keep back my treasure? Ought I to grudge to God one of +the gifts which, like all the rest, I had received from him? At this +last thought I plucked the flower from the stem, and took it to put at +the top of the Tabernacle. Ah! why does the recollection of this +sacrifice, which was so hard and yet so sweet to me, now make me smile? +Is it so certain that the value of a gift is in itself, rather than in +the intention? If the cup of cold water in the gospel is remembered to +the poor man, why should not the flower be remembered to the child? Let +us not look down upon the child's simple act of generosity; it is these +which accustom the soul to self-denial and to sympathy. I cherished this +moss-rose a long time as a sacred talisman; I had reason to cherish it +always, as the record of the first victory won over myself. + +It is now many years since I witnessed the celebration of the 'Fete +Dieu'; but should I again feel in it the happy sensations of former days? +I still remember how, when the procession had passed, I walked through +the streets strewed with flowers and shaded with green boughs. I felt +intoxicated by the lingering perfumes of the incense, mixed with the +fragrance of syringas, jessamine, and roses, and I seemed no longer to +touch the ground as I went along. I smiled at everything; the whole +world was Paradise in my eyes, and it seemed to me that God was floating +in the air! + +Moreover, this feeling was not the excitement of the moment: it might be +more intense on certain days, but at the same time it continued through +the ordinary course of my life. Many years thus passed for me in an +expansion of heart, and a trustfulness which prevented sorrow, if not +from coming, at least from staying with me. Sure of not being alone, +I soon took heart again, like the child who recovers its courage, because +it hears its mother's voice close by. Why have I lost that confidence of +my childhood? Shall I never feel again so deeply that God is here? + +How strange the association of our thoughts! A day of the month recalls +my infancy, and see, all the recollections of my former years are growing +up around me! Why was I so happy then? I consider well, and nothing is +sensibly changed in my condition. I possess, as I did then, health and +my daily bread; the only difference is, that I am now responsible for +myself! As a child, I accepted life when it came; another cared and +provided for me. So long as I fulfilled my present duties I was at peace +within, and I left the future to the prudence of my father! My destiny +was a ship, in the directing of which I had no share, and in which I +sailed as a common passenger. There was the whole secret of childhood's +happy security. Since then worldly wisdom has deprived me of it. When +my lot was intrusted to my own and sole keeping, I thought to make myself +master of it by means of a long insight into the future. I have filled +the present hour with anxieties, by occupying my thoughts with the +future; I have put my judgment in the place of Providence, and the happy +child is changed into the anxious man. + +A melancholy course, yet perhaps an important lesson. Who knows that, +if I had trusted more to Him who rules the world, I should not have been +spared all this anxiety? It may be that happiness is not possible here +below, except on condition of living like a child, giving ourselves up to +the duties of each day as it comes, and trusting in the goodness of our +heavenly Father for all besides. + +This reminds me of my Uncle Maurice! Whenever I have need to strengthen +myself in all that is good, I turn my thoughts to him; I see again the +gentle expression of his half-smiling, half-mournful face; I hear his +voice, always soft and soothing as a breath of summer! The remembrance +of him protects my life, and gives it light. He, too, was a saint and +martyr here below. Others have pointed out the path of heaven; he has +taught us to see those of earth aright. + +But, except the angels, who are charged with noting down the sacrifices +performed in secret, and the virtues which are never known, who has ever +heard of my Uncle Maurice? Perhaps I alone remember his name, and still +recall his history. + +Well! I will write it, not for others, but for myself! They say that, +at the sight of the Apollo, the body erects itself and assumes a more +dignified attitude: in the same way, the soul should feel itself raised +and ennobled by the recollection of a good man's life! + +A ray of the rising sun lights up the little table on which I write; the +breeze brings me in the scent of the mignonette, and the swallows wheel +about my window with joyful twitterings. The image of my Uncle Maurice +will be in its proper place amid the songs, the sunshine, and the +fragrance. + + +Seven o'clock.--It is with men's lives as with days: some dawn radiant +with a thousand colors, others dark with gloomy clouds. That of my Uncle +Maurice was one of the latter. He was so sickly, when he came into the +world, that they thought he must die; but notwithstanding these +anticipations, which might be called hopes, he continued to live, +suffering and deformed. + +He was deprived of all joys as well as of all the attractions of +childhood. He was oppressed because he was weak, and laughed at for his +deformity. In vain the little hunchback opened his arms to the world: +the world scoffed at him, and went its way. + +However, he still had his mother, and it was to her that the child +directed all the feelings of a heart repelled by others. With her he +found shelter, and was happy, till he reached the age when a man must +take his place in life; and Maurice had to content himself with that +which others had refused with contempt. His education would have +qualified him for any course of life; and he became an octroi-clerk-- +[The octroi is the tax on provisions levied at the entrance of the town] +--in one of the little toll-houses at the entrance of his native town. + +He was always shut up in this dwelling of a few feet square, with no +relaxation from the office accounts but reading and his mother's visits. +On fine summer days she came to work at the door of his hut, under the +shade of a clematis planted by Maurice. And, even when she was silent, +her presence was a pleasant change for the hunchback; he heard the +clinking of her long knitting-needles; he saw her mild and mournful +profile, which reminded him of so many courageously-borne trials; he +could every now and then rest his hand affectionately on that bowed neck, +and exchange a smile with her! + +This comfort was soon to be taken from him. His old mother fell sick, +and at the end of a few days he had to give up all hope. Maurice was +overcome at the idea of a separation which would henceforth leave him +alone on earth, and abandoned himself to boundless grief. He knelt by +the bedside of the dying woman, he called her by the fondest names, he +pressed her in his arms, as if he could so keep her in life. His mother +tried to return his caresses, and to answer him; but her hands were cold, +her voice was already gone. She could only press her lips against the +forehead of her son, heave a sigh, and close her eyes forever! + +They tried to take Maurice away, but he resisted them and threw himself +on that now motionless form. + +"Dead!" cried he; "dead! She who had never left me, she who was the +only one in the world who loved me! You, my mother, dead! What then +remains for me here below?" + +A stifled voice replied: + +"God!" + +Maurice, startled, raised himself! Was that a last sigh from the dead, +or his own conscience, that had answered him? He did not seek to know, +but he understood the answer, and accepted it. + +It was then that I first knew him. I often went to see him in his little +toll-house. He joined in my childish games, told me his finest stories, +and let me gather his flowers. Deprived as he was of all external +attractiveness, he showed himself full of kindness to all who came to +him, and, though he never would put himself forward, he had a welcome for +everyone. Deserted, despised, he submitted to everything with a gentle +patience; and while he was thus stretched on the cross of life, amid the +insults of his executioners, he repeated with Christ, "Father, forgive +them, for they know not what they do." + +No other clerk showed so much honesty, zeal, and intelligence; but those +who otherwise might have promoted him as his services deserved were +repelled by his deformity. As he had no patrons, he found his claims +were always disregarded. They preferred before him those who were better +able to make themselves agreeable, and seemed to be granting him a favor +when letting him keep the humble office which enabled him to live. Uncle +Maurice bore injustice as he had borne contempt; unfairly treated by men, +he raised his eyes higher, and trusted in the justice of Him who cannot +be deceived. + +He lived in an old house in the suburb, where many work-people, as poor +but not as forlorn as he, also lodged. Among these neighbors there was a +single woman, who lived by herself in a little garret, into which came +both wind and rain. She was a young girl, pale, silent, and with nothing +to recommend her but her wretchedness and her resignation to it. She was +never seen speaking to any other woman, and no song cheered her garret. +She worked without interest and without relaxation; a depressing gloom +seemed to envelop her like a shroud. Her dejection affected Maurice; he +attempted to speak to her; she replied mildly, but in few words. It was +easy to see that she preferred her silence and her solitude to the little +hunchback's good-will; he perceived it, and said no more. + +But Toinette's needle was hardly sufficient for her support, and +presently work failed her! Maurice learned that the poor girl was in +want of everything, and that the tradesmen refused to give her credit. +He immediately went to them privately and engaged to pay them for what +they supplied Toinette with. + +Things went on in this way for several months. The young dressmaker +continued out of work, until she was at last frightened at the bills she +had contracted with the shopkeepers. When she came to an explanation +with them, everything was discovered. Her first impulse was to run to +Uncle Maurice, and thank him on her knees. Her habitual reserve had +given way to a burst of deepest feeling. It seemed as if gratitude had +melted all the ice of that numbed heart. + +Being now no longer embarrassed with a secret, the little hunchback could +give greater efficacy to his good offices. Toinette became to him a +sister, for whose wants he had a right to provide. It was the first time +since the death of his mother that he had been able to share his life +with another. The young woman received his attentions with feeling, but +with reserve. All Maurice's efforts were insufficient to dispel her +gloom: she seemed touched by his kindness, and sometimes expressed her +sense of it with warmth; but there she stopped. Her heart was a closed +book, which the little hunchback might bend over, but could not read. In +truth he cared little to do so; he gave himself up to the happiness of +being no longer alone, and took Toinette such as her long trials had made +her; he loved her as she was, and wished for nothing else but still to +enjoy her company. + +This thought insensibly took possession of his mind, to the exclusion of +all besides. The poor girl was as forlorn as himself; she had become +accustomed to the deformity of the hunchback, and she seemed to look on +him with an affectionate sympathy! What more could he wish for? Until +then, the hopes of making himself acceptable to a helpmate had been +repelled by Maurice as a dream; but chance seemed willing to make it a +reality. After much hesitation he took courage, and decided to speak to +her. + +It was evening; the little hunchback, in much agitation, directed his +steps toward the work-woman's garret just as he was about to enter, he +thought he heard a strange voice pronouncing the maiden's name. He +quickly pushed open the door, and perceived Toinette weeping, and leaning +on the shoulder of a young man in the dress of a sailor. + +At the sight of my uncle, she disengaged herself quickly, and ran to him, +crying out: + +"Ah! come in--come in! It is he that I thought was dead: it is Julien; +it is my betrothed!" + +Maurice tottered, and drew back. A single word had told him all! + +It seemed to him as if the ground shook and his heart was about to break; +but the same voice that he had heard by his mother's deathbed again +sounded in his ears, and he soon recovered himself. God was still his +friend! + +He himself accompanied the newly-married pair on the road when they left +the town, and, after wishing them all the happiness which was denied to +him, he returned with resignation to the old house in the suburb. + +It was there that he ended his life, forsaken by men, but not as he said +by the Father which is in heaven. He felt His presence everywhere; it +was to him in the place of all else. When he died, it was with a smile, +and like an exile setting out for his own country. He who had consoled +him in poverty and ill-health, when he was suffering from injustice and +forsaken by all, had made death a gain and blessing to him. + + +Eight o'clock.--All I have just written has pained me! Till now I have +looked into life for instruction how to live. Is it then true that human +maxims are not always sufficient? that beyond goodness, prudence, +moderation, humility, self-sacrifice itself, there is one great truth, +which alone can face great misfortunes? and that, if man has need of +virtues for others, he has need of religion for himself? + +When, in youth, we drink our wine with a merry heart, as the Scripture +expresses it, we think we are sufficient for ourselves; strong, happy, +and beloved, we believe, like Ajax, we shall be able to escape every +storm in spite of the gods. But later in life, when the back is bowed, +when happiness proves a fading flower, and the affections grow chill- +then, in fear of the void and the darkness, we stretch out our arms, like +the child overtaken by night, and we call for help to Him who is +everywhere. + +I was asking this morning why this growing confusion alike for society +and for the individual? In vain does human reason from hour to hour +light some new torch on the roadside: the night continues to grow ever +darker! Is it not because we are content to withdraw farther and farther +from God, the Sun of spirits? + +But what do these hermit's reveries signify to the world? The inward +turmoils of most men are stifled by the outward ones; life does not give +them time to question themselves. Have they time to know what they are, +and what they should be, whose whole thoughts are in the next lease or +the last price of stock? Heaven is very high, and wise men look only at +the earth. + +But I--poor savage amid all this civilization, who seek neither power nor +riches, and who have found in my own thoughts the home and shelter of my +spirit--I can go back with impunity to these recollections of my +childhood; and, if this our great city no longer honors the name of God +with a festival, I will strive still to keep the feast to Him in my +heart. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE PRICE OF POWER AND THE WORTH OF FAME + +Sunday, July 1st + +Yesterday the month dedicated to Juno (Junius, June) by the Romans ended. +To-day we enter on July. + +In ancient Rome this latter month was called Quintiles (the fifth), +because the year, which was then divided into only ten parts, began in +March. When Numa Pompilius divided it into twelve months this name of +Quintiles was preserved, as well as those that followed--Sexteles, +September, October, November, December--although these designations did +not accord with the newly arranged order of the months. At last, after a +time the month Quintiles, in which Julius Caesar was born, was called +Julius, whence we have July. Thus this name, placed in the calendar, is +become the imperishable record of a great man; it is an immortal epitaph +on Time's highway, engraved by the admiration of man. + +How many similar inscriptions are there! Seas, continents, mountains, +stars, and monuments, have all in succession served the same purpose! We +have turned the whole world into a Golden Book, like that in which the +state of Venice used to enroll its illustrious names and its great deeds. +It seems that mankind feels a necessity for honoring itself in its elect +ones, and that it raises itself in its own eyes by choosing heroes from +among its own race. The human family love to preserve the memory; of the +parvenus of glory, as we cherish that of a great ancestor, or of a +benefactor. + +In fact, the talents granted to a single individual do not benefit +himself alone, but are gifts to the world; everyone shares them, for +everyone suffers or benefits by his actions. Genius is a lighthouse, +meant to give light from afar; the man who bears it is but the rock upon +which this lighthouse is built. + +I love to dwell upon these thoughts; they explain to me in what consists +our admiration for glory. When glory has benefited men, that admiration +is gratitude; when it is only remarkable in itself, it is the pride of +race; as men, we love to immortalize the most shining examples of +humanity. + +Who knows whether we do not obey the same instinct in submitting to the +hand of power? Apart from the requirements of a gradation of ranks, or +the consequences of a conquest, the multitude delight to surround their +chiefs with privileges--whether it be that their vanity makes them thus +to aggrandize one of their own creations, or whether they try to conceal +the humiliation of subjection by exaggerating the importance of those who +rule them. They wish to honor themselves through their master; they +elevate him on their shoulders as on a pedestal; they surround him with a +halo of light, in order that some of it may be reflected upon themselves. +It is still the fable of the dog who contents himself with the chain and +collar, so that they are of gold. + +This servile vanity is not less natural or less common than the vanity of +dominion. Whoever feels himself incapable of command, at least desires +to obey a powerful chief. Serfs have been known to consider themselves +dishonored when they became the property of a mere count after having +been that of a prince, and Saint-Simon mentions a valet who would only +wait upon marquises. + + +July 7th, seven o'clock P. M.--I have just now been up the Boulevards; +it was the opera night, and there was a crowd of carriages in the Rue +Lepelletier. The foot-passengers who were stopped at a crossing +recognized the persons in some of these as we went by, and mentioned +their names; they were those of celebrated or powerful men, the +successful ones of the day. + +Near me there was a man looking on with hollow cheeks and eager eyes, +whose thin black coat was threadbare. He followed with envious looks +these possessors of the privileges of power or of fame, and I read on his +lips, which curled with a bitter smile, all that passed in his mind. + +"Look at them, the lucky fellows!" thought he; "all the pleasures of +wealth, all the enjoyments of pride, are theirs. Their names are +renowned, all their wishes fulfilled; they are the sovereigns of the +world, either by their intellect or their power; and while I, poor and +unknown, toil painfully along the road below, they wing their way over +the mountain-tops gilded by the broad sunshine of prosperity." + +I have come home in deep thought. Is it true that there are these +inequalities, I do not say in the fortunes, but in the happiness of men? +Do genius and authority really wear life as a crown, while the greater +part of mankind receive it as a yoke? Is the difference of rank but a +different use of men's dispositions and talents, or a real inequality in +their destinies? A solemn question, as it regards the verification of +God's impartiality. + + +July 8th, noon.--I went this morning to call upon a friend from the same +province as myself, who is the first usher-in-waiting to one of our +ministers. I took him some letters from his family, left for him by a +traveller just come from Brittany. He wished me to stay. + +"To-day," said he, "the Minister gives no audience: he takes a day of +rest with his family. His younger sisters are arrived; he will take them +this morning to St. Cloud, and in the evening he has invited his friends +to a private ball. I shall be dismissed directly for the rest of the +day. We can dine together; read the news while you are waiting for me." + +I sat down at a table covered with newspapers, all of which I looked over +by turns. Most of them contained severe criticisms on the last political +acts of the minister; some of them added suspicions as to the honor of +the minister himself. + +Just as I had finished reading, a secretary came for them to take them to +his master. + +He was then about to read these accusations, to suffer silently the abuse +of all those tongues which were holding him up to indignation or to +scorn! Like the Roman victor in his triumph, he had to endure the +insults of him who followed his car, relating to the crowd his follies, +his ignorance, or his vices. + +But, among the arrows shot at him from every side, would no one be found +poisoned? Would not one reach some spot in his heart where the wound +would be incurable? What is the worth of a life exposed to the attacks +of envious hatred or furious conviction? The Christians yielded only the +fragments of their flesh to the beasts of the amphitheatres; the man in +power gives up his peace, his affections, his honor, to the cruel bites +of the pen. + +While I was musing upon these dangers of greatness, the usher entered +hastily. Important news had been received: the minister is just summoned +to the council; he will not be able to take his sisters to St. Cloud. + +I saw, through the windows, the young ladies, who were waiting at the +door, sorrowfully go upstairs again, while their brother went off to the +council. The carriage, which should have gone filled with so much family +happiness, is just out of sight, carrying only the cares of a statesman +in it. + +The usher came back discontented and disappointed. The more or less of +liberty which he is allowed to enjoy, is his barometer of the political +atmosphere. If he gets leave, all goes well; if he is kept at his post, +the country is in danger. His opinion on public affairs is but a +calculation of his own interest. My friend is almost a statesman. + +I had some conversation with him, and he told me several curious +particulars of public life. + +The new minister has old friends whose opinions he opposes, though he +still retains his personal regard for them. Though separated from them +by the colors he fights under, they remain united by old associations; +but the exigencies of party forbid him to meet them. If their +intercourse continued, it would awaken suspicion; people would imagine +that some dishonorable bargain was going on; his friends would be held to +be traitors desirous to sell themselves, and he the corrupt minister +prepared to buy them. He has, therefore, been obliged to break off +friendships of twenty years' standing, and to sacrifice attachments which +had become a second nature. + +Sometimes, however, the minister still gives way to his old feelings; he +receives or visits his friends privately; he shuts himself up with them, +and talks of the times when they could be open friends. By dint of +precautions they have hitherto succeeded in concealing this blot of +friendship against policy; but sooner or later the newspapers will be +informed of it, and will denounce him to the country as an object of +distrust. + +For whether hatred be honest or dishonest, it never shrinks from any +accusation. Sometimes it even proceeds to crime. The usher assured me +that several warnings had been given the minister which had made him fear +the vengeance of an assassin, and that he no longer ventured out on foot. + +Then, from one thing to another, I learned what temptations came in to +mislead or overcome his judgment; how he found himself fatally led into +obliquities which he could not but deplore. Misled by passion, over- +persuaded by entreaties, or compelled for reputation's sake, he has many +times held the balance with an unsteady hand. How sad the condition of +him who is in authority! Not only are the miseries of power imposed upon +him, but its vices also, which, not content with torturing, succeed in +corrupting him. + +We prolonged our conversation till it was interrupted by the minister's +return. He threw himself out of the carriage with a handful of papers, +and with an anxious manner went into his own room. An instant afterward +his bell was heard; his secretary was called to send off notices to all +those invited for the evening; the ball would not take place; they spoke +mysteriously of bad news transmitted by the telegraph, and in such +circumstances an entertainment would seem to insult the public sorrow. + +I took leave of my friend, and here I am at home. What I have just seen +is an answer to my doubts the other day. Now I know with what pangs men +pay for their dignities; now I understand + + That Fortune sells what we believe she gives. + +This explains to me the reason why Charles V aspired to the repose of the +cloister. + +And yet I have only glanced at some of the sufferings attached to power. +What shall I say of the falls in which its possessors are precipitated +from the heights of heaven to the very depths of the earth? of that path +of pain along which they must forever bear the burden of their +responsibility? of that chain of decorums and ennuis which encompasses +every act of their lives, and leaves them so little liberty? + +The partisans of despotism adhere with reason to forms and ceremonies. +If men wish to give unlimited power to their fellow-man, they must keep +him separated from ordinary humanity; they must surround him with a +continual worship, and, by a constant ceremonial, keep up for him the +superhuman part they have granted him. Our masters cannot remain +absolute, except on condition of being treated as idols. + +But, after all, these idols are men, and, if the exclusive life they must +lead is an insult to the dignity of others, it is also a torment to +themselves. Everyone knows the law of the Spanish court, which used to +regulate, hour by hour, the actions of the king and queen; "so that," +says Voltaire, "by reading it one can tell all that the sovereigns of +Spain have done, or will do, from Philip II to the day of judgment." It +was by this law that Philip III, when sick, was obliged to endure such an +excess of heat that he died in consequence, because the Duke of Uzeda, +who alone had the right to put out the fire in the royal chamber, +happened to be absent. + +When the wife of Charles II was run away with on a spirited horse, she +was about to perish before anyone dared to save her, because etiquette +forbade them to touch the queen. Two young officers endangered their +lives for her by stopping the horse. The prayers and tears of her whom +they had just snatched from death were necessary to obtain pardon for +their crime. Every one knows the anecdote related by Madame Campan of +Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI. One day, being at her toilet, when +the chemise was about to be presented to her by one of the assistants, a +lady of very ancient family entered and claimed the honor, as she had the +right by etiquette; but, at the moment she was about to fulfil her duty, +a lady of higher rank appeared, and in her turn took the garment she was +about to offer to the queen; when a third lady of still higher title came +in her turn, and was followed by a fourth, who was no other than the +king's sister. The chemise was in this manner passed from hand to hand, +with ceremonies, courtesies, and compliments, before it came to the +queen, who, half naked and quite ashamed, was shivering with cold for the +great honor of etiquette. + + +12th, seven o'clock, P.M.--On coming home this evening, I saw, standing +at the door of a house, an old man, whose appearance and features +reminded me of my father. There was the same beautiful smile, the same +deep and penetrating eye, the same noble bearing of the head, and the +same careless attitude. + +I began living over again the first years of my life, and recalling to +myself the conversations of that guide whom God in his mercy had given +me, and whom in his severity he had too soon withdrawn. + +When my father spoke, it was not only to bring our two minds together by +an interchange of thought, but his words always contained instruction. + +Not that he endeavored to make me feel it so: my father feared everything +that had the appearance of a lesson. He used to say that virtue could +make herself devoted friends, but she did not take pupils: therefore he +was not desirous to teach goodness; he contented himself with sowing the +seeds of it, certain that experience would make them grow. + +How often has good grain fallen thus into a corner of the heart, and, +when it has been long forgotten, all at once put forth the blade and come +into ear! It is a treasure laid aside in a time of ignorance, and we do +not know its value till we find ourselves in need of it. + +Among the stories with which he enlivened our walks or our evenings, +there is one which now returns to my memory, doubtless because the time +is come to derive its lesson from it. + +My father, who was apprenticed at the age of twelve to one of those +trading collectors who call themselves naturalists, because they put all +creation under glasses that they may sell it by retail, had always led a +life of poverty and labor. Obliged to rise before daybreak, by turns +shop-boy, clerk, and laborer, he was made to bear alone all the work of a +trade of which his master reaped all the profits. In truth, this latter +had a peculiar talent for making the most of the labor of other people. +Though unfit himself for the execution of any kind of work, no one knew +better how to sell it. His words were a net, in which people found +themselves taken before they were aware. And since he was devoted to +himself alone, and looked on the producer as his enemy, and the buyer as +prey, he used them both with that obstinate perseverance which avarice +teaches. + +My father was a slave all the week, and could call himself his own only +on Sunday. The master naturalist, who used to spend the day at the house +of an old female relative, then gave him his liberty on condition that he +dined out, and at his own expense. But my father used secretly to take +with him a crust of bread, which he hid in his botanizing-box, and, +leaving Paris as soon as it was day, he would wander far into the valley +of Montmorency, the wood of Meudon, or among the windings of the Marne. +Excited by the fresh air, the penetrating perfume of the growing +vegetation, or the fragrance of the honeysuckles, he would walk on until +hunger or fatigue made itself felt. Then he would sit under a hedge, or +by the side of a stream, and would make a rustic feast, by turns on +watercresses, wood strawberries, and blackberries picked from the hedges; +he would gather a few plants, read a few pages of Florian, then in +greatest vogue, of Gessner, who was just translated, or of Jean Jacques, +of whom he possessed three old volumes. The day was thus passed +alternately in activity and rest, in pursuit and meditation, until the +declining sun warned him to take again the road to Paris, where he would +arrive, his feet torn and dusty, but his mind invigorated for a whole +week. + +One day, as he was going toward the wood of Viroflay, he met, close to +it, a stranger who was occupied in botanizing and in sorting the plants +he had just gathered. He was an elderly man with an honest face; but his +eyes, which were rather deep-set under his eyebrows, had a somewhat +uneasy and timid expression. He was dressed in a brown cloth coat, a +gray waistcoat, black breeches, and worsted stockings, and held an ivory- +headed cane under his arm. His appearance was that of a small retired +tradesman who was living on his means, and rather below the golden mean +of Horace. + +My father, who had great respect for age, civilly raised his hat to him +as he passed. In doing so, a plant he held fell from his hand; the +stranger stooped to take it up, and recognized it. + +"It is a Deutaria heptaphyllos," said he; "I have not yet seen any of +them in these woods; did you find it near here, sir?" + +My father replied that it was to be found in abundance on the top of the +hill, toward Sevres, as well as the great Laserpitium. + +"That, too!" repeated the old man more briskly. "Ah! I shall go and +look for them; I have gathered them formerly on the hillside of Robaila." + +My father proposed to take him. The stranger accepted his proposal with +thanks, and hastened to collect together the plants he had gathered; but +all of a sudden he appeared seized with a scruple. He observed to his +companion that the road he was going was halfway up the hill, and led in +the direction of the castle of the Dames Royales at Bellevue; that by +going to the top he would consequently turn out of his road, and that it +was not right he should take this trouble for a stranger. + +My father insisted upon it with his habitual good-nature; but, the more +eagerness he showed, the more obstinately the old man refused; it even +seemed to my father that his good intention at last excited his +suspicion. He therefore contented himself with pointing out the road to +the stranger, whom he saluted, and he soon lost sight of him. + +Many hours passed by, and he thought no more of the meeting. He had +reached the copses of Chaville, where, stretched on the ground in a mossy +glade, he read once more the last volume of Emile. The delight of +reading it had so completely absorbed him that he had ceased to see or +hear anything around him. With his cheeks flushed and his eyes moist, +he repeated aloud a passage which had particularly affected him. + +An exclamation uttered close by him awoke him from his ecstasy; he raised +his head, and perceived the tradesman-looking person he had met before on +the crossroad at Viroflay. + +He was loaded with plants, the collection of which seemed to have put him +into high good-humor. + +"A thousand thanks, sir," said he to my father. "I have found all that +you told me of, and I am indebted to you for a charming walk." + +My father respectfully rose, and made a civil reply. The stranger had +grown quite familiar, and even asked if his young "brother botanist" did +not think of returning to Paris. My father replied in the affirmative, +and opened his tin box to put his book back in it. + +The stranger asked him with a smile if he might without impertinence ask +the name of it. My father answered that it was Rousseau's Emile. + +The stranger immediately became grave. + +They walked for some time side by side, my father expressing, with the +warmth of a heart still throbbing with emotion, all that this work had +made him feel; his companion remaining cold and silent. The former +extolled the glory of the great Genevese writer, whose genius had made +him a citizen of the world; he expatiated on this privilege of great +thinkers, who reign in spite of time and space, and gather together a +people of willing subjects out of all nations; but the stranger suddenly +interrupted him: + +"And how do you know," said he, mildly, "whether Jean Jacques would not +exchange the reputation which you seem to envy for the life of one of the +wood-cutters whose chimneys' smoke we see? What has fame brought him +except persecution? The unknown friends whom his books may have made for +him content themselves with blessing him in their hearts, while the +declared enemies that they have drawn upon him pursue him with violence +and calumny! His pride has been flattered by success: how many times has +it been wounded by satire? And be assured that human pride is like the +Sybarite who was prevented from sleeping by a crease in a roseleaf. The +activity of a vigorous mind, by which the world profits, almost always +turns against him who possesses it. He expects more from it as he grows +older; the ideal he pursues continually disgusts him with the actual; he +is like a man who, with a too-refined sight, discerns spots and blemishes +in the most beautiful face. I will not speak of stronger temptations and +of deeper downfalls. Genius, you have said, is a kingdom; but what +virtuous man is not afraid of being a king? He who feels only his great +powers, is--with the weaknesses and passions of our nature--preparing for +great failures. Believe me, sir, the unhappy man who wrote this book is +no object of admiration or of envy; but, if you have a feeling heart, +pity him!" + +My father, astonished at the excitement with which his companion +pronounced these last words, did not know what to answer. + +Just then they reached the paved road which led from Meudon Castle to +that of Versailles; a carriage was passing. + +The ladies who were in it perceived the old man, uttered an exclamation +of surprise, and leaning out of the window repeated: + +"There is Jean Jacques--there is Rousseau!" + +Then the carriage disappeared in the distance. + +My father remained motionless, confounded, and amazed, his eyes wide +open, and his hands clasped. + +Rousseau, who had shuddered on hearing his name spoken, turned toward +him: + +"You see," said he, with the bitter misanthropy which his later +misfortunes had produced in him, "Jean Jacques cannot even hide himself: +he is an object of curiosity to some, of malignity to others, and to all +he is a public thing, at which they point the finger. It would signify +less if he had only to submit to the impertinence of the idle; but, as +soon as a man has had the misfortune to make himself a name, he becomes +public property. Every one rakes into his life, relates his most trivial +actions, and insults his feelings; he becomes like those walls, which +every passer-by may deface with some abusive writing. Perhaps you will +say that I have myself encouraged this curiosity by publishing my +Confessions. But the world forced me to it. They looked into my house +through the blinds, and they slandered me; I have opened the doors and +windows, so that they should at least know me such as I am. Adieu, sir. +Whenever you wish to know the worth of fame, remember that you have seen +Rousseau." + + +Nine o'clock.--Ah! now I understand my father's story! It contains the +answer to one of the questions I asked myself a week ago. Yes, I now +feel that fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought; and that, when +they dazzle the soul, both are oftenest, as Madame de Stael says, but 'un +deuil eclatant de bonheur! + + 'Tis better to be lowly born, + And range with humble livers in content, + Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, + And wear a golden sorrow. + + [Henry VIII., Act II., Scene 3.] + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +MISANTHROPY AND REPENTANCE + +August 3d, Nine O'clock P.M. + +There are days when everything appears gloomy to us; the world, like the +sky, is covered by a dark fog. Nothing seems in its place; we see only +misery, improvidence, and cruelty; the world seems without God, and given +up to all the evils of chance. + +Yesterday I was in this unhappy humor. After a long walk in the +faubourgs, I returned home, sad and dispirited. + +Everything I had seen seemed to accuse the civilization of which we are +so proud! I had wandered into a little by-street, with which I was not +acquainted, and I found myself suddenly in the middle of those dreadful +abodes where the poor are born, to languish and die. I looked at those +decaying walls, which time has covered with a foul leprosy; those +windows, from which dirty rags hang out to dry; those fetid gutters, +which coil along the fronts of the houses like venomous reptiles! +I felt oppressed with grief, and hastened on. + +A little farther on I was stopped by the hearse of a hospital; a dead +man, nailed down in his deal coffin, was going to his last abode, without +funeral pomp or ceremony, and without followers. There was not here even +that last friend of the outcast--the dog, which a painter has introduced +as the sole attendant at the pauper's burial! He whom they were +preparing to commit to the earth was going to the tomb, as he had lived, +alone; doubtless no one would be aware of his end. In this battle of +society, what signifies a soldier the less? + +But what, then, is this human society, if one of its members can thus +disappear like a leaf carried away by the wind? + +The hospital was near a barrack, at the entrance of which old men, women, +and children were quarrelling for the remains of the coarse bread which +the soldiers had given them in charity! Thus, beings like ourselves +daily wait in destitution on our compassion till we give them leave to +live! Whole troops of outcasts, in addition to the trials imposed on all +God's children, have to endure the pangs of cold, hunger, and +humiliation. Unhappy human commonwealth! Where man is in a worse +condition than the bee in its hive, or the ant in its subterranean city! + +Ah! what then avails our reason? What is the use of so many high +faculties, if we are neither the wiser nor the happier for them? Which +of us would not exchange his life of labor and trouble with that of the +birds of the air, to whom the whole world is a life of joy? + +How well I understand the complaint of Mao, in the popular tales of the +'Foyer Breton' who, when dying of hunger and thirst, says, as he looks at +the bullfinches rifling the fruit-trees: + +"Alas! those birds are happier than Christians; they have no need of +inns, or butchers, or bakers, or gardeners. God's heaven belongs to +them, and earth spreads a continual feast before them! The tiny flies +are their game, ripe grass their cornfields, and hips and haws their +store of fruit. They have the right of taking everywhere, without paying +or asking leave: thus comes it that the little birds are happy, and sing +all the livelong day!" + +But the life of man in a natural state is like that of the birds; he +equally enjoys nature. "The earth spreads a continual feast before him." +What, then, has he gained by that selfish and imperfect association which +forms a nation? Would it not be better for every one to turn again to +the fertile bosom of nature, and live there upon her bounty in peace and +liberty? + + +August 20th, four o'clock A.M.--The dawn casts a red glow on my bed- +curtains; the breeze brings in the fragrance of the gardens below. Here +I am again leaning on my elbows by the windows, inhaling the freshness +and gladness of this first wakening of the day. + +My eye always passes over the roofs filled with flowers, warbling, and +sunlight, with the same pleasure; but to-day it stops at the end of a +buttress which separates our house from the next. + +The storms have stripped the top of its plaster covering, and dust +carried by the wind has collected in the crevices, and, being fixed there +by the rain, has formed a sort of aerial terrace, where some green grass +has sprung up. Among it rises a stalk of wheat, which to-day is +surmounted by a sickly ear that droops its yellow head. + +This poor stray crop on the roofs, the harvest of which will fall to the +neighboring sparrows, has carried my thoughts to the rich crops which are +now falling beneath the sickle; it has recalled to me the beautiful walks +I took as a child through my native province, when the threshing-floors +at the farmhouses resounded from every part with the sound of a flail, +and when the carts, loaded with golden sheaves, came in by all the roads. +I still remember the songs of the maidens, the cheerfulness of the old +men, the open-hearted merriment of the laborers. There was, at that +time, something in their looks both of pride and feeling. The latter +came from thankfulness to God, the former from the sight of the harvest, +the reward of their labor. They felt indistinctly the grandeur and the +holiness of their part in the general work of the world; they looked with +pride upon their mountains of corn-sheaves, and they seemed to say, Next +to God, it is we who feed the world! + +What a wonderful order there is in all human labor! + +While the husbandman furrows his land, and prepares for every one his +daily bread, the town artizan, far away, weaves the stuff in which he is +to be clothed; the miner seeks underground the iron for his plow; the +soldier defends him against the invader; the judge takes care that the +law protects his fields; the tax-comptroller adjusts his private +interests with those of the public; the merchant occupies himself in +exchanging his products with those of distant countries; the men of +science and of art add every day a few horses to this ideal team, which +draws along the material world, as steam impels the gigantic trains of +our iron roads! Thus all unite together, all help one another; the toil +of each one benefits himself and all the world; the work has been +apportioned among the different members of the whole of society by a +tacit agreement. If, in this apportionment, errors are committed, if +certain individuals have not been employed according to their capacities, +those defects of detail diminish in the sublime conception of the whole. +The poorest man included in this association has his place, his work, his +reason for being there; each is something in the whole. + +There is nothing like this for man in the state of nature. As he depends +only upon himself, it is necessary that he be sufficient for everything. +All creation is his property; but he finds in it as many hindrances as +helps. He must surmount these obstacles with the single strength that +God has given him; he cannot reckon on any other aid than chance and +opportunity. No one reaps, manufactures, fights, or thinks for him; he +is nothing to any one. He is a unit multiplied by the cipher of his own +single powers; while the civilized man is a unit multiplied by the whole +of society. + +But, notwithstanding this, the other day, disgusted by the sight of some +vices in detail, I cursed the latter, and almost envied the life of the +savage. + +One of the infirmities of our nature is always to mistake feeling for +evidence, and to judge of the season by a cloud or a ray of sunshine. + +Was the misery, the sight of which made me regret a savage life, really +the effect of civilization? Must we accuse society of having created +these evils, or acknowledge, on the contrary, that it has alleviated +them? Could the women and children, who were receiving the coarse bread +from the soldier, hope in the desert for more help or pity? That dead +man, whose forsaken state I deplored, had he not found, by the cares of a +hospital, a coffin and the humble grave where he was about to rest? +Alone, and far from men, he would have died like the wild beast in his +den, and would now be serving as food for vultures! These benefits of +human society are shared, then, by the most destitute. Whoever eats the +bread that another has reaped and kneaded, is under an obligation to his +brother, and cannot say he owes him nothing in return. The poorest of us +has received from society much more than his own single strength would +have permitted him to wrest from nature. + +But cannot society give us more? Who doubts it? Errors have been +committed in this distribution of tasks and workers. Time will diminish +the number of them; with new lights a better division will arise; the +elements of society go on toward perfection, like everything else. The +difficulty is to know how to adapt ourselves to the slow step of time, +whose progress can never be forced on without danger. + + +August 14th, six o'clock A.M.--My garret window rises upon the roof like +a massive watch-tower. The corners are covered by large sheets of lead, +which run into the tiles; the successive action of cold and heat has made +them rise, and so a crevice has been formed in an angle on the right +side. There a sparrow has built her nest. + +I have followed the progress of this aerial habitation from the first +day. I have seen the bird successively bring the straw, moss, and wool +designed for the construction of her abode; and I have admired the +persevering skill she expended in this difficult work. At first, my new +neighbor spent her days in fluttering over the poplar in the garden, and +in chirping along the gutters; a fine lady's life seemed the only one to +suit her. Then all of a sudden, the necessity of preparing a shelter for +her brood transformed our idler into a worker; she no longer gave herself +either rest or relaxation. I saw her always either flying, fetching, or +carrying; neither rain nor sun stopped her. A striking example of the +power of necessity! We are indebted to it not only for most of our +talents, but for many of our virtues! + +Is it not necessity that has given the people of less favored climates +that constant activity which has placed them so quickly at the head of +nations? As they are deprived of most of the gifts of nature, they have +supplied them by their industry; necessity has sharpened their +understanding, endurance awakened their foresight. While elsewhere man, +warmed by an ever brilliant sun, and loaded with the bounties of the +earth, was remaining poor, ignorant, and naked, in the midst of gifts he +did not attempt to explore, here he was forced by necessity to wrest his +food from the ground, to build habitations to defend himself from the +intemperance of the weather, and to warm his body by clothing himself +with the wool of animals. Work makes him both more intelligent and more +robust: disciplined by it, he seems to mount higher on the ladder of +creation, while those more favored by nature remain on the step nearest +to the brutes. + +I made these reflections while looking at the bird, whose instinct seemed +to have become more acute since she had been occupied in work. At last +the nest was finished; she set up her household there, and I followed her +through all the phases of her new existence. + +When she had sat on the eggs, and the young ones were hatched, she fed +them with the most attentive care. The corner of my window had become a +stage of moral action, which fathers and mothers might come to take +lessons from. The little ones soon became large, and this morning I have +seen them take their first flight. One of them, weaker than the others, +was not able to clear the edge of the roof, and fell into the gutter. I +caught him with some difficulty, and placed him again on the tile in +front of his house, but the mother has not noticed him. Once freed from +the cares of a family, she has resumed her wandering life among the trees +and along the roofs. In vain I have kept away from my window, to take +from her every excuse for fear; in vain the feeble little bird has called +to her with plaintive cries; his bad mother has passed by, singing and +fluttering with a thousand airs and graces. Once only the father came +near; he looked at his offspring with contempt, and then disappeared, +never to return! + +I crumbled some bread before the little orphan, but he did not know how +to peck it with his bill. I tried to catch him, but he escaped into the +forsaken nest. What will become of him there, if his mother does not +come back! + + +August 15th, six o'clock.--This morning, on opening my window, I found +the little bird dying upon the tiles; his wounds showed me that he had +been driven from the nest by his unworthy mother. I tried in vain to +warm him again with my breath; I felt the last pulsations of life; his +eyes were already closed, and his wings hung down! I placed him on the +roof in a ray of sunshine, and I closed my window. The struggle of life +against death has always something gloomy in it: it is a warning to us. + +Happily I hear some one in the passage; without doubt it is my old +neighbor; his conversation will distract my thoughts. + +It was my portress. Excellent woman! She wished me to read a letter +from her son the sailor, and begged me to answer it for her. + +I kept it, to copy it in my journal. Here it is: + + "DEAR MOTHER: This is to tell you that I have been very well ever + since the last time, except that last week I was nearly drowned with + the boat, which would have been a great loss, as there is not a + better craft anywhere. + + "A gust of wind capsized us; and just as I came up above water, I + saw the captain sinking. I went after him, as was my duty, and, + after diving three times, I brought him to the surface, which + pleased him much; for when we were hoisted on board, and he had + recovered his senses, he threw his arms round my neck, as he would + have done to an officer. + + "I do not hide from you, dear mother, that this has delighted me. + But it isn't all; it seems that fishing up the captain has reminded + them that I had a good character, and they have just told me that I + am promoted to be a sailor of the first class! Directly I knew it, + I cried out, 'My mother shall have coffee twice a day!' And really, + dear mother, there is nothing now to hinder you, as I shall now have + a larger allowance to send you. + + "I include by begging you to take care of yourself if you wish to do + me good; for nothing makes me feel so well as to think that you want + for nothing. + + "Your son, from the bottom of my heart, + + JACQUES." + + +This is the answer that the portress dictated to me: + + "MY GOOD JACQUOT: It makes me very happy to see that your heart is + still as true as ever, and that you will never shame those who have + brought you up. I need not tell you to take care of your life, + because you know it is the same as my own, and that without you, + dear child, I should wish for nothing but the grave; but we are not + bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty. + + "Do not fear for my health, good Jacques; I was never better! I do + not grow old at all, for fear of making you unhappy. I want + nothing, and I live like a lady. I even had some money over this + year, and as my drawers shut very badly, I put it into the savings' + bank, where I have opened an account in your name. So, when you + come back, you will find yourself with an income. I have also + furnished your chest with new linen, and I have knitted you three + new sea-jackets. + + "All your friends are well. Your cousin is just dead, leaving his + widow in difficulties. I gave her your thirty francs' remittance + and said that you had sent it her; and the poor woman remembers you + day and night in her prayers. So, you see, I have put that money in + another sort of savings' bank; but there it is our hearts that get + the interest. + + "Good-bye, dear Jacquot. Write to me often, and always remember the + good God, and your old mother, + + "PHROSINE MILLOT." + + +Good son, and worthy mother! how such examples bring us back to a love +for the human race! In a fit of fanciful misanthropy, we may envy the +fate of the savage, and prefer that of the bird to such as he; but +impartial observation soon does justice to such paradoxes. We find, on +examination, that in the mixed good and evil of human nature, the good so +far abounds that we are not in the habit of noticing it, while the evil +strikes us precisely on account of its being the exception. If nothing +is perfect, nothing is so bad as to be without its compensation or its +remedy. What spiritual riches are there in the midst of the evils of +society! how much does the moral world redeem the material! + +That which will ever distinguish man from the rest of creation, is his +power of deliberate affection and of enduring self-sacrifice. The mother +who took care of her brood in the corner of my window devoted to them the +necessary time for accomplishing the laws which insure the preservation +of her kind; but she obeyed an instinct, and not a rational choice. When +she had accomplished the mission appointed her by Providence, she cast +off the duty as we get rid of a burden, and she returned again to her +selfish liberty. The other mother, on the contrary, will go on with her +task as long as God shall leave her here below: the life of her son will +still remain, so to speak, joined to her own; and when she disappears +from the earth, she will leave there that part of herself. + +Thus, the affections make for our species an existence separate from all +the rest of creation. Thanks to them, we enjoy a sort of terrestrial +immortality; and if other beings succeed one another, man alone +perpetuates himself. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE FAMILY OF MICHAEL AROUT + +September 15th, Eight O'clock + +This morning, while I was arranging my books, Mother Genevieve came in, +and brought me the basket of fruit I buy of her every Sunday. For the +nearly twenty years that I have lived in this quarter, I have dealt in +her little fruit-shop. Perhaps I should be better served elsewhere, but +Mother Genevieve has but little custom; to leave her would do her harm, +and cause her unnecessary pain. It seems to me that the length of our +acquaintance has made me incur a sort of tacit obligation to her; my +patronage has become her property. + +She has put the basket upon my table, and as I want her husband, who is a +joiner, to add some shelves to my bookcase, she has gone downstairs again +immediately to send him to me. + +At first I did not notice either her looks or the sound of her voice: +but, now that I recall them, it seems to me that she was not as jovial as +usual. Can Mother Genevieve be in trouble about anything? + +Poor woman! All her best years were subject to such bitter trials, that +she might think she had received her full share already. Were I to live +a hundred years, I should never forget the circumstances which made her +known to me, and which obtained for her my respect. + +It was at the time of my first settling in the faubourg. I had noticed +her empty fruit-shop, which nobody came into, and, being attracted by its +forsaken appearance, I made my little purchases in it. I have always +instinctively preferred the poor shops; there is less choice in them, but +it seems to me that my purchase is a sign of sympathy with a brother in +poverty. These little dealings are almost always an anchor of hope to +those whose very existence is in peril--the only means by which some +orphan gains a livelihood. There the aim of the tradesman is not to +enrich himself, but to live! The purchase you make of him is more than +an exchange--it is a good action. + +Mother Genevieve at that time was still young, but had already lost that +fresh bloom of youth which suffering causes to wither so soon among the +poor. Her husband, a clever joiner, gradually left off working to +become, according to the picturesque expression of the workshops, a +worshipper of Saint Monday. The wages of the week, which was always +reduced to two or three working days, were completely dedicated by him to +the worship of this god of the Barriers,--[The cheap wine shops are +outside the Barriers, to avoid the octroi, or municipal excise.]--and +Genevieve was obliged herself to provide for all the wants of the +household. + +One evening, when I went to make some trifling purchases of her, I heard +a sound of quarrelling in the back shop. There were the voices of +several women, among which I distinguished that of Genevieve, broken by +sobs. On looking farther in, I perceived the fruit-woman holding a child +in her arms, and kissing it, while a country nurse seemed to be claiming +her wages from her. The poor woman, who without doubt had exhausted +every explanation and every excuse, was crying in silence, and one of her +neighbors was trying in vain to appease the countrywoman. Excited by +that love of money which the evils of a hard peasant life but too well +excuse, and disappointed by the refusal of her expected wages, the nurse +was launching forth in recriminations, threats, and abuse. In spite of +myself, I listened to the quarrel, not daring to interfere, and not +thinking of going away, when Michael Arout appeared at the shop-door. + +The joiner had just come from the Barriers, where he had passed part of +the day at a public-house. His blouse, without a belt, and untied at the +throat, showed none of the noble stains of work: in his hand he held his +cap, which he had just picked up out of the mud; his hair was in +disorder, his eye fixed, and the pallor of drunkenness in his face. He +came reeling in, looked wildly around him, and called Genevieve. + +She heard his voice, gave a start, and rushed into the shop; but at the +sight of the miserable man, who was trying in vain to steady himself, she +pressed the child in her arms, and bent over it with tears. + +The countrywoman and the neighbor had followed her. + +"Come! come!" cried the former in a rage, "do you intend to pay me, +after all?" + +"Ask the master for the money," ironically answered the woman from the +next door, pointing to the joiner, who had just fallen against the +counter. + +The countrywoman looked at him. + +"Ah! he is the father," returned she. "Well, what idle beggars! not to +have a penny to pay honest people; and get tipsy with wine in that way." + +The drunkard raised his head. + +"What! what!" stammered he; "who is it that talks of wine? I've had +nothing but brandy! But I am going back again to get some wine! Wife, +give me your money; there are some friends waiting for me at the 'Pere +la Tuille'." + +Genevieve did not answer: he went round the counter, opened the till, and +began to rummage in it. + +"You see where the money of the house goes!" observed the neighbor to +the countrywoman; "how can the poor unhappy woman pay you when he takes +all?" + +"Is that my fault?" replied the nurse, angrily. "They owe to me, and +somehow or other they must pay me!" + +And letting loose her tongue, as these women out of the country do, she +began relating at length all the care she had taken of the child, and all +the expense it had been to her. In proportion as she recalled all she +had done, her words seemed to convince her more than ever of her rights, +and to increase her anger. The poor mother, who no doubt feared that her +violence would frighten the child, returned into the back shop, and put +it into its cradle. + +Whether it is that the countrywoman saw in this act a determination to +escape her claims, or that she was blinded by passion, I cannot say; but +she rushed into the next room, where I heard the sounds of quarrelling, +with which the cries of the child were soon mingled. The joiner, who was +still rummaging in the till, was startled, and raised his head. + +At the same moment Genevieve appeared at the door, holding in her arms +the baby that the countrywoman was trying to tear from her. She ran +toward the counter, and throwing herself behind her husband, cried: + +"Michael, defend your son!" + +The drunken man quickly stood up erect, like one who awakes with a start. + +"My son!" stammered he; "what son?" + +His looks fell upon the child; a vague ray of intelligence passed over +his features. + +"Robert," resumed he; "it is Robert!" + +He tried to steady himself on his feet, that he might take the baby, but +he tottered. The nurse approached him in a rage. + +"My money, or I shall take the child away!" cried she. "It is I who +have fed and brought it up: if you don't pay me for what has made it +live, it ought to be the same to you as if it were dead. I shall not go +until I have my due, or the baby." + +"And what would you do with him?" murmured Genevieve, pressing Robert +against her bosom. + +"Take it to the Foundling!" replied the countrywoman, harshly; "the +hospital is a better mother than you are, for it pays for the food of its +little ones." + +At the word "Foundling," Genevieve had exclaimed aloud in horror. With +her arms wound round her son, whose head she hid in her bosom, and her +two hands spread over him, she had retreated to the wall, and remained +with her back against it, like a lioness defending her young. The +neighbor and I contemplated this scene, without knowing how we could +interfere. As for Michael, he looked at us by turns, making a visible +effort to comprehend it all. When his eye rested upon Genevieve and the +child, it lit up with a gleam of pleasure; but when he turned toward us, +he again became stupid and hesitating. + +At last, apparently making a prodigious effort, he cried out, "Wait!" + +And going to a tub filled with water, he plunged his face into it several +times. + +Every eye was turned upon him; the countrywoman herself seemed +astonished. At length he raised his dripping head. This ablution had +partly dispelled his drunkenness; he looked at us for a moment, then he +turned to Genevieve, and his face brightened up. + +"Robert!" cried he, going up to the child, and taking him in his arms. +"Ah! give him me, wife; I must look at him." + +The mother seemed to give up his son to him with reluctance, and stayed +before him with her arms extended, as if she feared the child would have +a fall. The nurse began again in her turn to speak, and renewed her +claims, this time threatening to appeal to law. At first Michael +listened to her attentively, and when he comprehended her meaning, he +gave the child back to its mother. + +"How much do we owe you?" asked he. + +The countrywoman began to reckon up the different expenses, which +amounted to nearly thirty francs. The joiner felt to the bottom of his +pockets, but could find nothing. His forehead became contracted by +frowns; low curses began to escape him. All of a sudden he rummaged in +his breast, drew forth a large watch, and holding it up above his head: + +"Here it is--here's your money!" cried he with a joyful laugh; "a watch, +a good one! I always said it would keep for a drink on a dry day; but it +is not I who will drink it, but the young one. Ah! ah! ah! go and sell +it for me, neighbor, and if that is not enough, I have my earrings. Eh! +Genevieve, take them off for me; the earrings will square all! They +shall not say you have been disgraced on account of the child--no, not +even if I must pledge a bit of my flesh! My watch, my earrings, and my +ring--get rid of all of them for me at the goldsmith's; pay the woman, +and let the little fool go to sleep. Give him me, Genevieve; I will put +him to bed." + +And, taking the baby from the arms of his mother, he carried him with a +firm step to his cradle. + +It was easy to perceive the change which took place in Michael from this +day. He cut all his old drinking acquaintances. He went early every +morning to his work, and returned regularly in the evening to finish the +day with Genevieve and Robert. Very soon he would not leave them at all, +and he hired a place near the fruit-shop, and worked in it on his own +account. + +They would soon have been able to live in comfort, had it not been for +the expenses which the child required. Everything was given up to his +education. He had gone through the regular school training, had studied +mathematics, drawing, and the carpenter's trade, and had only begun to +work a few months ago. Till now, they had been exhausting every resource +which their laborious industry could provide to push him forward in his +business; and, happily, all these exertions had not proved useless: the +seed had brought forth fruit, and the days of harvest were close by. + +While I was thus recalling these remembrances to my mind, Michael had +come in, and was occupied in fixing shelves where they were wanted. + +During the time I was writing the notes of my journal, I was also +scrutinizing the joiner. + +The excesses of his youth and the labor of his manhood have deeply marked +his face; his hair is thin and gray, his shoulders stoop, his legs are +shrunken and slightly bent. There seems a sort of weight in his whole +being. His very features have an expression of sorrow and despondency. +He answers my questions by monosyllables, and like a man who wishes to +avoid conversation. Whence comes this dejection, when one would think he +had all he could wish for? I should like to know! + + +Ten o'clock.--Michael is just gone downstairs to look for a tool he has +forgotten. I have at last succeeded in drawing from him the secret of +his and Genevieve's sorrow. Their son Robert is the cause of it! + +Not that he has turned out ill after all their care--not that he is idle +or dissipated; but both were in hopes he would never leave them any more. +The presence of the young man was to have renewed and made glad their +lives once more; his mother counted the days, his father prepared +everything to receive their dear associate in their toils; and at the +moment when they were thus about to be repaid for all their sacrifices, +Robert had suddenly informed them that he had just engaged himself to a +contractor at Versailles. + +Every remonstrance and every prayer were useless; he brought forward the +necessity of initiating himself into all the details of an important +contract, the facilities he should have in his new position of improving +himself in his trade, and the hopes he had of turning his knowledge to +advantage. At, last, when his mother, having come to the end of her +arguments, began to cry, he hastily kissed her, and went away that he +might avoid any further remonstrances. + +He had been absent a year, and there was nothing to give them hopes of +his return. His parents hardly saw him once a month, and then he only +stayed a few moments with them. + +"I have been punished where I had hoped to be rewarded," Michael said to +me just now. "I had wished for a saving and industrious son, and God has +given me an ambitious and avaricious one! I had always said to myself +that when once he was grown up we should have him always with us, to +recall our youth and to enliven our hearts. His mother was always +thinking of getting him married, and having children again to care for. +You know women always will busy themselves about others. As for me, I +thought of him working near my bench, and singing his new songs; for he +has learnt music, and is one of the best singers at the Orpheon. + +A dream, sir, truly! Directly the bird was fledged, he took to flight, +and remembers neither father nor mother. Yesterday, for instance, was +the day we expected him; he should have come to supper with us. No +Robert to-day, either! He has had some plan to finish, or some bargain +to arrange, and his old parents are put down last in the accounts, after +the customers and the joiner's work. Ah! if I could have guessed how it +would have turned out! Fool! to have sacrificed my likings and my money, +for nearly twenty years, to the education of a thankless son! Was it for +this I took the trouble to cure myself of drinking, to break with my +friends, to become an example to the neighborhood? The jovial good +fellow has made a goose of himself. Oh! if I had to begin again! No, +no! you see women and children are our bane. They soften our hearts; +they lead us a life of hope and affection; we pass a quarter of our lives +in fostering the growth of a grain of corn which is to be everything to +us in our old age, and when the harvest-time comes--good-night, the ear +is empty!" + +While he was speaking, Michael's voice became hoarse, his eyes fierce, +and his lips quivered. I wished to answer him, but I could only think of +commonplace consolations, and I remained silent. The joiner pretended he +needed a tool, and left me. + +Poor father! Ah! I know those moments of temptation when virtue has +failed to reward us, and we regret having obeyed her! Who has not felt +this weakness in hours of trial, and who has not uttered, at least once, +the mournful exclamation of Brutus? + +But if virtue is only a word, what is there then in life that is true +and real? No, I will not believe that goodness is in vain! It does not +always give the happiness we had hoped for, but it brings some other. +In the world everything is ruled by order, and has its proper and +necessary consequences, and virtue cannot be the sole exception to the +general law. If it had been prejudicial to those who practised it, +experience would have avenged them; but experience has, on the contrary, +made it more universal and more holy. We only accuse it of being a +faithless debtor because we demand an immediate payment, and one apparent +to our senses. We always consider life as a fairytale, in which every +good action must be rewarded by a visible wonder. We do not accept as +payment a peaceful conscience, self-content, or a good name among men-- +treasures that are more precious than any other, but the value of which +we do not feel till after we have lost them! + +Michael is come back, and has returned to his work. His son has not yet +arrived. + +By telling me of his hopes and his grievous disappointments, he became +excited; he unceasingly went over again the same subject, always adding +something to his griefs. He had just wound up his confidential discourse +by speaking to me of a joiner's business which he had hoped to buy, and +work to good account with Robert's help. The present owner had made a +fortune by it, and, after thirty years of business, he was thinking of +retiring to one of the ornamental cottages in the outskirts of the city, +a usual retreat for the frugal and successful workingman. Michael had +not indeed the two thousand francs which must be paid down; but perhaps +he could have persuaded Master Benoit to wait. Robert's presence would +have been a security for him, for the young man could not fail to insure +the prosperity of a workshop; besides science and skill, he had the power +of invention and bringing to perfection. His father had discovered among +his drawings a new plan for a staircase, which had occupied his thoughts +for a long time; and he even suspected him of having engaged himself to +the Versailles contractor for the very purpose of executing it. The +youth was tormented by this spirit of invention, which took possession of +all his thoughts, and, while devoting his mind to study, he had no time +to listen to his feelings. + +Michael told me all this with a mixed feeling of pride and vexation. I +saw he was proud of the son he was abusing, and that his very pride made +him more sensitive to that son's neglect. + + +Six o'clock P.M.--I have just finished a happy day. How many events have +happened within a few hours, and what a change for Genevieve and Michael! + +He had just finished fixing the shelves, and telling me of his son, while +I laid the cloth for my breakfast. + +Suddenly we heard hurried steps in the passage, the door opened, and +Genevieve entered with Robert. + +The joiner gave a start of joyful surprise, but he repressed it +immediately, as if he wished to keep up the appearance of displeasure. + +The young man did not appear to notice it, but threw himself into his +arms in an open-hearted manner, which surprised me. Genevieve, whose +face shone with happiness, seemed to wish to speak, and to restrain +herself with difficulty. + +I told Robert I was glad to see him, and he answered me with ease and +civility. + +"I expected you yesterday," said Michael Arout, rather dryly. + +"Forgive me, father," replied the young workman, "but I had business at +St. Germain's. I was not able to come back till it was very late, and +then the master kept me." + +The joiner looked at his son sidewise, and then took up his hammer again. + +"All right," muttered he, in a grumbling tone; "when we are with other +people we must do as they wish; but there are some who would like better +to eat brown bread with their own knife than partridges with the silver +fork of a master." + +"And I am one of those, father," replied Robert, merrily, "but, as the +proverb says, "you must shell the peas before you can eat them." It was +necessary that I should first work in a great workshop--" + +"To go on with your plan of the staircase," interrupted Michael, +ironically. + +"You must now say Monsieur Raymond's plan, father," replied Robert, +smiling. + +"Why?" + +"Because I have sold it to him." + +The joiner, who was planing a board, turned round quickly. + +"Sold it!" cried he, with sparkling eyes. + +"For the reason that I was not rich enough to give it him." + +Michael threw down the board and tool. + +"There he is again!" resumed he, angrily; "his good genius puts an idea +into his head which would have made him known, and he goes and sells it +to a rich man, who will take the honor of it himself." + +"Well, what harm is there done?" asked Genevieve. + +"What harm!" cried the joiner, in a passion. "You understand nothing +about it--you are a woman; but he--he knows well that a true workman +never gives up his own inventions for money, no more than a soldier would +give up his cross. That is his glory; he is bound to keep it for the +honor it does him! Ah, thunder! if I had ever made a discovery, rather +than put it up at auction I would have sold one of my eyes! Don't you +see that a new invention is like a child to a workman? He takes care of +it, he brings it up, he makes a way for it in the world, and it is only a +poor creature who sells it." + +Robert colored a little. + +"You will think differently, father," said he, "when you know why I sold +my plan." + +"Yes, and you will thank him for it," added Genevieve, who could no +longer keep silence. + +"Never !" replied Michael. + +"But, wretched man!" cried she, "he sold it only for our sakes!" + +The joiner looked at his wife and son with astonishment. It was +necessary to come to an explanation. The latter related how he had +entered into a negotiation with Master Benoit, who had positively refused +to sell his business unless one half of the two thousand francs were +first paid down. It was in the hopes of obtaining this sum that he had +gone to work with the contractor at Versailles; he had had an opportunity +of trying his invention, and of finding a purchaser. Thanks to the money +he received for it, he had just concluded the bargain with Benoit, and +had brought his father the key of the new work-yard. + +This explanation was given by the young workman with so much modesty and +simplicity that I was quite affected by it. Genevieve cried; Michael +pressed his son to his heart, and in a long embrace he seemed to ask his +pardon for having unjustly accused him. + +All was now explained with honor to Robert. The conduct which his +parents had ascribed to indifference really sprang from affection; he had +neither obeyed the voice of ambition nor of avarice, nor even the nobler +inspiration of inventive genius: his whole motive and single aim had been +the happiness of Genevieve and Michael. The day for proving his +gratitude had come, and he had returned them sacrifice for sacrifice! + +After the explanations and exclamations of joy were over, all three were +about to leave me; but, the cloth being laid, I added three more places, +and kept them to breakfast. + +The meal was prolonged: the fare was only tolerable; but the over- +flowings of affection made it delicious. Never had I better understood +the unspeakable charm of family love. What calm enjoyment in that +happiness which is always shared with others; in that community of +interests which unites such various feelings; in that association of +existences which forms one single being of so many! What is man without +those home affections, which, like so many roots, fix him firmly in the +earth, and permit him to imbibe all the juices of life? Energy, +happiness--do not all these come from them? Without family life where +would man learn to love, to associate, to deny himself? A community in +little, is it not this which teaches us how to live in the great one? +Such is the holiness of home, that, to express our relation with God, we +have been obliged to borrow the words invented for our family life. Men +have named themselves the sons of a heavenly Father! + +Ah! let us carefully preserve these chains of domestic union. Do not +let us unbind the human sheaf, and scatter its ears to all the caprices +of chance and of the winds; but let us rather enlarge this holy law; let +us carry the principles and the habits of home beyond set bounds; and, +if it may be, let us realize the prayer of the Apostle of the Gentiles +when he exclaimed to the newborn children of Christ: "Be ye like-minded, +having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind." + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Always to mistake feeling for evidence +Fame and power are gifts that are dearly bought +Fortune sells what we believe she gives +Make himself a name: he becomes public property +My patronage has become her property +Not desirous to teach goodness +Power of necessity +Progress can never be forced on without danger +So much confidence at first, so much doubt at las +The man in power gives up his peace +Virtue made friends, but she did not take pupils +We are not bound to live, while we are bound to do our duty + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v2 +by Emile Souvestre + diff --git a/3997.zip b/3997.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..915ed97 --- /dev/null +++ b/3997.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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