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D.W.] + + + + + +AN "ATTIC" PHILOSOPHER +(Un Philosophe sous les Toits) + +By EMILE SOUVESTRE + + + +BOOK 3. + + +CHAPTER X + +OUR COUNTRY + +October 12th, Seven O'clock A.M. + +The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through my +curtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even when +my eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under my +counterpane. Every morning there begins a long argument between my +activity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I wait +like the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement. + +This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my pillow, +awoke me earlier than usual. In vain I turned on my side; the +persevering light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into every +position. At last, quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled my +nightcap to the foot of the bed! + +(I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions of +this pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbols +of the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed its +most common images from them.) + +But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my new +neighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to sleep. +We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live on their +own account. Each one of us is like the earth, according to the old +system of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolve +around himself. On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to: +'Tous les hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet'. + +I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to the +other end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the warm +bedclothes, while making a host of evil reflections upon the +inconvenience of having neighbors. + +For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance had +given me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again on +rising. I was almost always alone on this top story--alone with the +clouds and the sparrows! + +But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, like +the seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take mere +passengers. How many different faces have I already seen pass along the +landing-place belonging to our attics! How many companions of a few days +have disappeared forever! Some are lost in that medley of the living +which whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others in +that resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God! + +Peter the bookbinder is one of these last. Wrapped up in selfishness, he +lived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived. His loss was +neither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; there +was merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied in +our house. + +It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few days. + +To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with my +nightcap)--to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier than +suits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries his +misfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, with +cheerfulness and moderation. + +But fate has cruelly tried him. Father Chaufour is but the wreck of a +man. In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left leg +is made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; but +above these ruins rises a calm and happy face. While looking upon his +countenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice, +the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see that +the soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering. The +fortress is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrison +is quite hearty. + +Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproach +myself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke. + +We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor. +All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent to +us, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sin +which does not betray itself by action! + +But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws? Besides +these external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling between +men? Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven as +ourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes? Ought not +every human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with our +prayers for a happy voyage? It is not enough that men do not harm one +another; they must also help and love one another! The papal +benediction, 'Urbi et orbi'! should be the constant cry from all hearts. +To condemn him who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by a +passing thought, is to break the great law, that which has established +the union of souls here below, and to which Christ has given the sweet +name of charity. + +These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said to +myself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me. To make +amends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed him +some explicit proof of sympathy. I heard him humming a tune in his room; +he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first neighborly +call. + + +Eight o'clock P.M.--I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by a +little smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, and +making large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a low +tone. I had hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation of +surprise and pleasure. + +"Eh! is it you, neighbor? Come in, then! I did not think you got up so +early, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you." + +Excellent man! while I was sending him to the devil he was putting +himself out of his way for me! + +This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having become +my neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart. + +"Faith! you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian," said he in +a voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand. "I do not +like those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, and +treat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks. When men snuff the same +air, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs to +each other. Sit down there, neighbor; I don't mean to order you; only +take care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-will +in place of the fourth." + +"It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here," I +observed. + +"Good-will!" repeated Chaufour; "that is all my mother left me, and I +take it no son has received a better inheritance. Therefore they used to +call me Monsieur Content in the batteries." + +"You are a soldier, then?" + +"I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward in the +Guard, through all the commotions. I was at Jemappes and at Waterloo; so +I was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as one may say!" + +I looked at him with astonishment. + +"And how old were you then, at Jemappes?" asked I. + +"Somewhere about fifteen," said he. + +"How came you to think of being a soldier so early?" + +"I did not really think about it. I then worked at toy-making, and never +dreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make her +draught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls. But I had an old uncle +at Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time--a Fontenoy veteran in +the same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen to +that of a marshal. Unluckily, in those days there was no way for common +people to get on. My uncle, whose services would have got him made a +prince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of sub- +lieutenant. But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross of +St. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noble +countenance. You would have said he was a portrait of one of those old +heroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles! + +"Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in my +memory. But one day I found him quite grave. + +"'Jerome,' said he, 'do you know what is going on on the frontier?' + +"'No, lieutenant,' replied I. + +"'Well,' resumed he, 'our country is in danger!' + +"I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me. + +"'Perhaps you have never thought what your country means,' continued he, +placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all that +has brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved! This ground +that you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along there +laughing--this is your country! The laws which protect you, the bread +which pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the joy +and grief which come to you from the men and things among which you live +--this is your country! The little room where you used to see your +mother, the remembrances she has left you, the earth where she rests-- +this is your country! You see it, you breathe it, everywhere! Think to +yourself, my son, of your rights and your duties, your affections and +your wants, your past and your present blessings; write them all under a +single name--and that name will be your country!' + +"I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes. + +"'Ah! I understand,' cried I; 'it is our home in large; it is that part +of the world where God has placed our body and our soul.' + +"'You are right, Jerome,' continued the old soldier; 'so you comprehend +also what we owe it.' + +"'Truly,' resumed I, 'we owe it all that we are; it is a question of +love.' + +"'And of honesty, my son,' concluded he. 'The member of a family who +does not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his duty, +and is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not enrich it +with all his might, with all his courage, and with all his heart, +defrauds it of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man. It is the +same with him who enjoys the advantages of having a country, and does not +accept the burdens of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad citizen!' + +"'And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen?' asked I. + +"'Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother,' said +he. + +"I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the blood +boiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncle's words +were, so to speak, written up before my eyes. I repeated, 'Do for your +country what you would do for your father and mother.' And my country is +in danger; an enemy attacks it, while I--I turn cups and balls! + +"This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I returned +to Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just enlisted, and +was going off to the frontier. The brave man pressed upon me his cross +of St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador. + +"That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before I +had cut my wisdom teeth." + +All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looks +upon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance. + +While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of himself, +but of the general subject. Evidently that which occupied him in the +drama of life was not his own part, but the drama itself. + +This sort of disinterestedness touched me. I prolonged my visit, and +showed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence in +return. In an hour's time he knew my position and my habits; I was on +the footing of an old acquaintance. + +I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a short +time before. He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness which +comes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything on +the good side. He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged him +to work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old soldier +compared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his forehead, +accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list round his +door! + +O great and beautiful soul! with whom nothing turns to bitterness, and +who art peremptory only in duty and benevolence! + + +October 15th.--This morning I was looking at a little engraving I had +framed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design of +Gavarni's; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and a +conscript. + +By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression, and +so true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen them +move, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene, at +which I am present as spectator. + +The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of the +young soldier. His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sun +shining through the flowering chestnut-trees. In the place of his right +arm hangs an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound of +which on the pavement makes those who pass turn to look. + +At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greater +number shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or an +imprecation. + +"See the worth of glory!" says a portly merchant, turning away his eyes +in horror. + +"What a deplorable use of human life!" rejoins a young man who carries a +volume of philosophy under his arm. + +"The trooper would better not have left his plow," adds a countryman, +with a cunning air. + +"Poor old man!" murmurs a woman, almost crying. + +The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him that +his guide has grown thoughtful. The latter, attracted by what he hears +around him, hardly answers the old man's questions, and his eyes, vaguely +lost in space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some problem. + +I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he stops +abruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm: + +"They all pity me," says he, "because they do not understand it; but if I +were to answer them--" + +"What would you say to them, father?" asks the young man, with +curiosity. + +"I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keep +her tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind some +struggle for my colors. There is room for doubting how some men have +done their duty; with me it is visible. I carry the account of my +services, written with the enemy's steel and lead, on myself; to pity me +for having done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false to +it." + +"And what would you say to the countryman, father?" + +"I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first secure +the country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners ready to +eat our harvest, there must be arms to defend it." + +"But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a use +of life." + +"Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach. +The books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never read +them: the principles he applauds we have defended with powder and +bayonet." + +"And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, when +he saw your maimed body, 'See the worth of glory!"' + +"Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul; it +is this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage. The +Master of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men. When we +desire to be distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove our +esteem and our sympathy for them? The longing for admiration is but one +side of love. No, no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for! +That which we should deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove a +generous self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence have +called forth. Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when passing, +cast looks of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose excesses +have dimmed his sight before he is old, 'What have you done with your +eyes?' To the slothful man, who with difficulty drags along his +enervated mass of flesh, 'What have you done with your feet?' To the old +man, who is punished for his intemperance by the gout, 'What have you +done with your hands?' To all, 'What have you done with the days God +granted you, with the faculties you should have employed for the good of +your brethren?' If you cannot answer, bestow no more of your pity upon +the old soldier maimed in his country's cause; for he--he at least--can +show his scars without shame." + + +October 16th.--The little engraving has made me comprehend better the +merits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more. + +He has just now left my attic. There no longer passes a single day +without his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by his +board. + +The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it. For twenty +years he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought without +hatred, for he was possessed by a single thought--the honor of the +national flag! It might have been his superstition, if you will; but it +was, at the same time, his safeguard. + +The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through the +world, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation. To +have to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it is +an encouragement to vigorous ones. + +"I, too, have had many moments," said he to me the other day, "when I +have been tempted to make friends with the devil. War is not precisely +the school for rural virtues. By dint of burning, destroying, and +killing, you grow a little tough as regards your feelings; 'and, when the +bayonet has made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into your head +a little strongly. But at these moments I called to mind that country +which the lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself the well- +known phrase, 'Toujours Francais! It has been laughed at since. People +who would make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it into +ridicule, as if the name of our country was not also a noble and a +binding thing. For my part, I shall never forget from how many follies +the title of Frenchman has kept me. When, overcome with fatigue, I have +found myself in the rear of the colors, and when the musketry was +rattling in the front ranks, many a time I heard a voice, which whispered +in my ear, 'Leave the others to fight, and for today take care of your +own hide!' But then, that word Francais! murmured within me, and I +pressed forward to help my comrades. At other times, when, irritated by +hunger, cold, and wounds, I have arrived at the hovel of some Meinherr, +I have been seized by an itching to break the master's back, and to burn +his hut; but I whispered to myself, Francais! and this name would not +rhyme with either incendiary or murderer. I have, in this way, passed +through kingdoms from east to west, and from north to south, always +determined not to bring disgrace upon my country's flag. The lieutenant, +you see, had taught me a magic word--My country! Not only must we defend +it, but we must also make it great and loved." + + +October 17th.--To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit. A chance +expression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yet +done. + +I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle. + +"No, no!" replied he; "the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamart +quarries that my arm went to feed." + +And when I asked him for the particulars-- + +"That's as easy as to say good-morning," continued he. "After the great +break-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to give +my wooden leg time to grow. As soon as I was able to hobble a little, +I took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hoped +to find some relative or friend; but no--all were gone, or underground. +I should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin. +And although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the better +off; my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight. + +"I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped him +out of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he had +offered me bed and board at his house. I knew that the year before he +had married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanent +coat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations. +It remained to see if I had not anything better to do. One evening I set +myself to reflect upon it. + +"'Let us see, Chaufour,' said I to myself; 'the question is to act like a +man. The colonel's place suits you, but cannot you do anything better? +Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you not +owe all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said? Why +not leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his hospital +at the colonel's? Come, trooper, you are still fit for another stout +charge or two! You must not lay up before your time.' + +"Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to an +old artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who had +taken up the quarryman's pick again. + +"For the first few months I played the conscript's part--that is to say, +there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the better +of stones, as of everything else. I did not become, so to speak, the +leader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen, +and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with a +good will. For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride. The +thought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into houses +pleased my heart. I said to myself, 'Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; you +are helping to beautify your country.' And that kept up my spirit. + +"Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to the +charms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, who +could hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper to +strike a light close to a charged mine. The mine exploded suddenly, and +sent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, and +carried away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve." + +"So you were again without means of living?" said I to the old soldier. + +"That is to say, I had to change them," replied he, quietly. "The +difficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead of +ten; I found it, however." + +"How was that?" + +"Among the Paris street-sweepers." + +"What! you have been one--" + +"Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that was +not my worst time either. The corps of sweepers is not so low as it is +dirty, I can tell you! There are old actresses in it who could never +learn to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; we +even had a professor of classics, who for a little drink would recite +Latin to you, or Greek tragedies, as you chose. They could not have +competed for the Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account of +poverty, and cheered our poverty by our good-humor and jokes. I was as +ragged and as cheerful as the rest, while trying to be something better. +Even in the mire of the gutter I preserved my faith that nothing is +dishonorable which is useful to our country. + +"'Chaufour,' said I to myself with a smile, 'after the sword, the hammer; +after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old boy, but +you are still serving your country.'" + +"'However, you ended by leaving your new profession?' said I." + +"A reform was required, neighbor. The street-sweepers seldom have their +feet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open again. +I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to lay down +my arms. It is now two months since I left off working in the sanitary +department of Paris. + +"At the first moment I was daunted. Of my four limbs, I had now only my +right hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary to +find some gentlemanly occupation for it. After trying a little of +everything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for the +lace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, but +it is within the capacity of all. By getting up at four and working till +eight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup take fifty +of them, and there are three sous over for luxuries. So I am richer than +France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I continue to +serve her, as I save her lace and buttons." + +At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with his +great scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboard +cases. My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought. + +Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle of +life, always march in front for the example and the salvation of the +world! Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is +"Country," for that "Home," for a third "Mankind;" but they all follow +the same standard--that of duty; for all the same divine law reigns--that +of self-sacrifice. To love something more than one's self--that is the +secret of all that is great; to know how to live for others--that is the +aim of all noble souls. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +MORAL USE OF INVENTORIES + +November 13th, Nine O'clock P.M. + +I had well stopped up the chinks of my window; my little carpet was +nailed down in its place; my lamp, provided with its shade, cast a +subdued light around, and my stove made a low, murmuring sound, as if +some live creature was sharing my hearth with me. + +All was silent around me. But, out of doors the snow and rain swept the +roofs, and with a low, rushing sound ran along the gurgling gutters; +sometimes a gust of wind forced itself beneath the tiles, which rattled +together like castanets, and afterward it was lost in the empty corridor. +Then a slight and pleasurable shiver thrilled through my veins: I drew +the flaps of my old wadded dressing-gown around me, I pulled my +threadbare velvet cap over my eyes, and, letting myself sink deeper into +my easy-chair, while my feet basked in the heat and light which shone +through the door of the stove, I gave myself up to a sensation of +enjoyment, made more lively by the consciousness of the storm which raged +without. My eyes, swimming in a sort of mist, wandered over all the +details of my peaceful abode; they passed from my prints to my bookcase, +resting upon the little chintz sofa, the white curtains of the iron +bedstead, and the portfolio of loose papers--those archives of the +attics; and then, returning to the book I held in my hand, they attempted +to seize once more the thread of the reading which had been thus +interrupted. + +In fact, this book, the subject of which had at first interested me, had +become painful to me. I had come to the conclusion that the pictures of +the writer were too sombre. His description of the miseries of the world +appeared exaggerated to me; I could not believe in such excess of poverty +and of suffering; neither God nor man could show themselves so harsh +toward the sons of Adam. The author had yielded to an artistic +temptation: he was making a show of the sufferings of humanity, as Nero +burned Rome for the sake of the picturesque. + +Taken altogether, this poor human house, so often repaired, so much +criticised, is still a pretty good abode; we may find enough in it to +satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them; the happiness of +the wise man costs but little, and asks but little space. + +These consoling reflections became more and more confused. At last my +book fell on the ground without my having the resolution to stoop and +take it up again; and insensibly overcome by the luxury of the silence, +the subdued light, and the warmth, I fell asleep. + +I remained for some time lost in the sort of insensibility belonging to +a first sleep; at last some vague and broken sensations came over me. +It seemed to me that the day grew darker, that the air became colder. +I half perceived bushes covered with the scarlet berries which foretell +the coming of winter. I walked on a dreary road, bordered here and there +with juniper-trees white with frost. Then the scene suddenly changed. +I was in the diligence; the cold wind shook the doors and windows; the +trees, loaded with snow, passed by like ghosts; in vain I thrust my +benumbed feet into the crushed straw. At last the carriage stopped, and, +by one of those stage effects so common in sleep, I found myself alone in +a barn, without a fireplace, and open to the winds on all sides. I saw +again my mother's gentle face, known only to me in my early childhood, +the noble and stern countenance of my father, the little fair head of my +sister, who was taken from us at ten years old; all my dead family lived +again around me; they were there, exposed to the bitings of the cold and +to the pangs of hunger. My mother prayed by the resigned old man, and my +sister, rolled up on some rags of which they had made her a bed, wept in +silence, and held her naked feet in her little blue hands. + +It was a page from the book I had just read transferred into my own +existence. + +My heart was oppressed with inexpressible anguish. Crouched in a corner, +with my eyes fixed upon this dismal picture, I felt the cold slowly +creeping upon me, and I said to myself with bitterness: + +"Let us die, since poverty is a dungeon guarded by suspicion, apathy, and +contempt, and from which it is vain to try to escape; let us die, since +there is no place for us at the banquet of the living!" + +And I tried to rise to join my mother again, and to wait at her feet for +the hour of release. + +This effort dispelled my dream, and I awoke with a start. + +I looked around me; my lamp was expiring, the fire in my stove +extinguished, and my half-opened door was letting in an icy wind. +I got up, with a shiver, to shut and double-lock it; then I made for +the alcove, and went to bed in haste. + +But the cold kept me awake a long time, and my thoughts continued the +interrupted dream. + +The pictures I had lately accused of exaggeration now seemed but a too +faithful representation of reality; and I went to sleep without being +able to recover my optimism--or my warmth. + +Thus did a cold stove and a badly closed door alter my point of view. +All went well when my blood circulated properly; all looked gloomy when +the cold laid hold on me. + +This reminds me of the story of the duchess who was obliged to pay a +visit to the neighboring convent on a winter's day. The convent was +poor, there was no wood, and the monks had nothing but their discipline +and the ardor of their prayers to keep out the cold. The duchess, who +was shivering with cold, returned home, greatly pitying the poor monks. +While the servants were taking off her cloak and adding two more logs to +her fire, she called her steward, whom she ordered to send some wood to +the convent immediately. She then had her couch moved close to the +fireside, the warmth of which soon revived her. The recollection of what +she had just suffered was speedily lost in her present comfort, when the +steward came in again to ask how many loads of wood he was to send. + +"Oh! you may wait," said the great lady carelessly; "the weather is very +much milder." + +Thus, man's judgments are formed less from reason than from sensation; +and as sensation comes to him from the outward world, so he finds himself +more or less under its influence; by little and little he imbibes a +portion of his habits and feelings from it. + +It is not, then, without cause that, when we wish to judge of a stranger +beforehand, we look for indications of his character in the circumstances +which surround him. The things among which we live are necessarily made +to take our image, and we unconsciously leave in them a thousand +impressions of our minds. As we can judge by an empty bed of the height +and attitude of him who has slept in it, so the abode of every man +discovers to a close observer the extent of his intelligence and the +feelings of his heart. Bernardin de St.-Pierre has related the story of +a young girl who refused a suitor because he would never have flowers or +domestic animals in his house. Perhaps the sentence was severe, but not +without reason. We may presume that a man insensible to beauty and to +humble affection must be ill prepared to feel the enjoyments of a happy +marriage. + + +14th, seven o'clock P.M.--This morning, as I was opening my journal to +write, I had a visit from our old cashier. + +His sight is not so good as it was, his hand begins to shake, and the +work he was able to do formerly is now becoming somewhat laborious to +him. I had undertaken to write out some of his papers, and he came for +those I had finished. + +We conversed a long time by the stove, while he was drinking a cup of +coffee which I made him take. + +M. Rateau is a sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little; so +that he has always something to say. + +While looking over the accounts I had prepared for him, his look fell +upon my journal, and I was obliged to acknowledge that in this way I +wrote a diary of my actions and thoughts every evening for private use. +From one thing to another, I began speaking to him of my dream the day +before, and my reflections about the influence of outward objects upon +our ordinary sentiments. He smiled. + +"Ah! you, too, have my superstitions," he said, quietly. "I have always +believed, like you, that you may know the game by the lair: it is only +necessary to have tact and experience; but without them we commit +ourselves to many rash judgments. For my part. I have been guilty of +this more than once, but sometimes I have also drawn a right conclusion. +I recollect especially an adventure which goes as far back as the first +years of my youth--" + +He stopped. I looked at him as if I waited for his story, and he told it +me at once. + +At this time he was still but third clerk to an attorney at Orleans. His +master had sent him to Montargis on different affairs, and he intended to +return in the diligence the same evening, after having received the +amount of a bill at a neighboring town; but they kept him at the debtor's +house, and when he was able to set out the day had already closed. + +Fearing not to be able to reach Montargis in good time, he took a +crossroad they pointed out to him. Unfortunately the fog increased, +no star was visible in the heavens, and the darkness became so great that +he lost his road. He tried to retrace his steps, passed twenty +footpaths, and at last was completely astray. + +After the vexation of losing his place in the diligence, came the feeling +of uneasiness as to his situation. He was alone, on foot, lost in a +forest, without any means of finding his right road again, and with a +considerable sum of money about him, for which he was responsible. His +anxiety was increased by his inexperience. The idea of a forest was +connected in his mind with so many adventures of robbery and murder, +that he expected some fatal encounter every instant. + +To say the truth, his situation was not encouraging. The place was not +considered safe, and for some time past there had been rumors of the +sudden disappearance of several horse-dealers, though there was no trace +of any crime having been committed. + +Our young traveller, with his eyes staring forward, and his ears +listening, followed a footpath which he supposed might take him to some +house or road; but woods always succeeded to woods. At last he perceived +a light at a distance, and in a quarter of an hour he reached the +highroad. + +A single house, the light from which had attracted him, appeared at a +little distance. He was going toward the entrance gate of the courtyard, +when the trot of a horse made him turn his head. A man on horseback had +just appeared at the turning of the road, and in an instant was close to +him. + +The first words he addressed to the young man showed him to be the farmer +himself. He related how he had lost himself, and learned from the +countryman that he was on the road to Pithiviers. Montargis was three +leagues behind him. + +The fog had insensibly changed into a drizzling rain, which was beginning +to wet the young clerk through; he seemed afraid of the distance he had +still to go, and the horseman, who saw his hesitation, invited him to +come into the farmhouse. + +It had something of the look of a fortress. Surrounded by a pretty high +wall, it could not be seen except through the bars of the great gate, +which was carefully closed. The farmer, who had got off his horse, did +not go near it, but, turning to the right, reached another entrance +closed in the same way, but of which he had the key. + +Hardly had he passed the threshold when a terrible barking resounded +from each end of the yard. The farmer told his guest to fear nothing, +and showed him the dogs chained up to their kennels; both were of an +extraordinary size, and so savage that the sight of their master himself +could not quiet them. + +A boy, attracted by their barking, came out of the house and took the +farmer's horse. The latter began questioning him about some orders he +had given before he left the house, and went toward the stable to see +that they had been executed. + +Thus left alone, our clerk looked about him. + +A lantern which the boy had placed on the ground cast a dim light over +the courtyard. All around seemed empty and deserted. Not a trace was +visible of the disorder often seen in a country farmyard, and which shows +a temporary cessation of the work which is soon to be resumed again. +Neither a cart forgotten where the horses had been unharnessed, nor +sheaves of corn heaped up ready for threshing, nor a plow overturned in a +corner and half hidden under the freshly-cut clover. The yard was swept, +the barns shut up and padlocked. Not a single vine creeping up the +walls; everywhere stone, wood, and iron! + +He took up the lantern and went up to the corner of the house. Behind +was a second yard, where he heard the barking of a third dog, and a +covered wall was built in the middle of it. + +Our traveller looked in vain for the little farm garden, where pumpkins +of different sorts creep along the ground, or where the bees from the +hives hum under the hedges of honeysuckle and elder. Verdure and flowers +were nowhere to be seen. He did not even perceive the sight of a +poultry-yard or pigeon-house. The habitation of his host was everywhere +wanting in that which makes the grace and the life of the country. + +The young man thought that his host must be of a very careless or a very +calculating disposition, to concede so little to domestic enjoyments and +the pleasures of the eye; and judging, in spite of himself, by what he +saw, he could not help feeling a distrust of his character. + +In the mean time the farmer returned from the stables, and made him enter +the house. + +The inside of the farmhouse corresponded to its outside. The whitewashed +walls had no other ornament than a row of guns of all sizes; the massive +furniture hardly redeemed its clumsy appearance by its great solidity. +The cleanliness was doubtful, and the absence of all minor conveniences +proved that a woman's care was wanting in the household concerns. The +young clerk learned that the farmer, in fact, lived here with no one but +his two sons. + +Of this, indeed, the signs were plain enough. A table with the cloth +laid, that no one had taken the trouble to clear away, was left near the +window. The plates and dishes were scattered upon it without any order, +and loaded with potato-parings and half-picked bones. Several empty +bottles emitted an odor of brandy, mixed with the pungent smell of +tobacco-smoke. + +After seating his guest, the farmer lighted his pipe, and his two sons +resumed their work by the fireside. Now and then the silence was just +broken by a short remark, answered by a word or an exclamation; and then +all became as mute as before. + +"From my childhood," said the old cashier, "I had been very sensible to +the impression of outward objects; later in life, reflection had taught +me to study the causes of these impressions rather than to drive them +away. I set myself, then, to examine everything around me with great +attention. + +"Below the guns, I had remarked on entering, some wolftraps were +suspended, and to one of them still hung the mangled remains of a wolf's +paw, which they had not yet taken off from the iron teeth. The blackened +chimneypiece was ornamented by an owl and a raven nailed on the wall, +their wings extended, and their throats with a huge nail through each; a +fox's skin, freshly flayed, was spread before the window; and a larder +hook, fixed into the principal beam, held a headless goose, whose body +swayed about over our heads. + +"My eyes were offended by all these details, and I turned them again upon +my hosts. The father, who sat opposite to me, only interrupted his +smoking to pour out his drink, or address some reprimand to his sons. +The eldest of these was scraping a deep bucket, and the bloody scrapings, +which he threw into the fire every instant, filled the room with a +disagreeable fetid smell; the second son was sharpening some butcher's +knives. I learned from a word dropped from the father that they were +preparing to kill a pig the next day. + +"These occupations and the whole aspect of things inside the house told +of such habitual coarseness in their way of living as seemed to explain, +while it formed the fitting counterpart of, the forbidding gloominess of +the outside. My astonishment by degrees changed into disgust, and my +disgust into uneasiness. I cannot detail the whole chain of ideas which +succeeded one another in my imagination; but, yielding to an impulse I +could not overcome, I got up, declaring I would go on my road again. + +"The farmer made some effort to keep me; he spoke of the rain, of the +darkness, and of the length of the way. I replied to all by the absolute +necessity there was for my being at Montargis that very night; and +thanking him for his brief hospitality, I set off again in a haste which +might well have confirmed the truth of my words to him. + +"However, the freshness of the night and the exercise of walking did not +fail to change the directions of my thoughts. When away from the objects +which had awakened such lively disgust in me, I felt it gradually +diminishing. I began to smile at the susceptibility of my feelings, +and then, in proportion as the rain became heavier and colder, these +strictures on myself assumed a tone of ill-temper. I silently accused +myself of the absurdity of mistaking sensation for admonitions of my +reason. After all, were not the farmer and his sons free to live alone, +to hunt, to keep dogs, and to kill a pig? Where was the crime of it? +With less nervous susceptibility, I should have accepted the shelter they +offered me, and I should now be sleeping snugly on a truss of straw, +instead of walking with difficulty through the cold and drizzling rain. +I thus continued to reproach myself, until, toward morning, I arrived at +Montargis, jaded and benumbed with cold. + +"When, however, I got up refreshed, toward the middle of the next day, +I instinctively returned to my first opinion. The appearance of the +farmhouse presented itself to me under the same repulsive colors which +the evening before had determined me to make my escape from it. Reason +itself remained silent when reviewing all those coarse details, and was +forced to recognize in them the indications of a low nature, or else the +presence of some baleful influence. + +"I went away the next day without being able to learn anything concerning +the farmer or his sons; but the recollection of my adventure remained +deeply fixed in my memory. + +"Ten years afterward I was travelling in the diligence through the +department of the Loiret; I was leaning from the window, and looking at +some coppice ground now for the first time brought under cultivation, and +the mode of clearing which one of my travelling companions was explaining +to me, when my eyes fell upon a walled inclosure, with an iron-barred +gate. Inside it I perceived a house with all the blinds closed, and +which I immediately recollected; it was the farmhouse where I had been +sheltered. I eagerly pointed it out to my companion, and asked who lived +in it. + +"'Nobody just now,' replied he. + +"'But was it not kept, some years ago, by a farmer and his two sons?' + +"'The Turreaus;' said my travelling companion, looking at me; 'did you +know them?' + +"'I saw them once.' + +"He shook his head. + +"'Yes, yes!' resumed he; 'for many years they lived there like wolves in +their den; they merely knew how to till land, kill game, and drink. The +father managed the house, but men living alone, without women to love +them, without children to soften them, and without God to make them think +of heaven, always turn into wild beasts, you see; so one morning the +eldest son, who had been drinking too much brandy, would not harness the +plow-horses; his father struck him with his whip, and the son, who was +mad drunk, shot him dead with his gun.'" + + +16th, P.M.--I have been thinking of the story of the old cashier these +two days; it came so opportunely upon the reflections my dream had +suggested to me. + +Have I not an important lesson to learn from all this? + +If our sensations have an incontestable influence upon our judgments, +how comes it that we are so little careful of those things which awaken +or modify these sensations? The external world is always reflected in us +as in a mirror, and fills our minds with pictures which, unconsciously to +ourselves, become the germs of our opinions and of our rules of conduct. +All the objects which surround us are then, in reality, so many talismans +whence good and evil influences are emitted, and it is for us to choose +them wisely, so as to create a healthy atmosphere for our minds. + +Feeling convinced of this truth, I set about making a survey of my attic. + +The first object on which my eyes rest is an old map of the history of +the principal monastery in my native province. I had unrolled it with +much satisfaction, and placed it on the most conspicuous part of the +wall. Why had I given it this place? Ought this sheet of old worm-eaten +parchment to be of so much value to me, who am neither an antiquary nor a +scholar? Is not its real importance in my sight that one of the abbots +who founded it bore my name, and that I shall, perchance, be able to make +myself a genealogical tree of it for the edification of my visitors? +While writing this, I feel my own blushes. Come, down with the map! +let us banish it into my deepest drawer. + +As I passed my glass, I perceived several visiting cards complacently +displayed in the frame. By what chance is it that there are only names +that make a show among them? Here is a Polish count--a retired colonel-- +the deputy of my department. Quick, quick, into the fire with these +proofs of vanity! and let us put this card in the handwriting of our +office-boy, this direction for cheap dinners, and the receipt of the +broker where I bought my last armchair, in their place. These +indications of my poverty will serve, as Montaigne says, 'mater ma +superbe', and will always make me recollect the modesty in which the +dignity of the lowly consists. + +I have stopped before the prints hanging upon the wall. This large and +smiling Pomona, seated on sheaves of corn, and whose basket is +overflowing with fruit, only produces thoughts of joy and plenty; I was +looking at her the other day, when I fell asleep denying such a thing as +misery. Let us give her as companion this picture of Winter, in which +everything tells of sorrow and suffering: one picture will modify the +other. + +And this Happy Family of Greuze's! What joy in the children's eyes! +What sweet repose in the young woman's face! What religious feeling in +the grandfather's countenance! May God preserve their happiness to them! +but let us hang by its side the picture of this mother, who weeps over an +empty cradle. Human life has two faces, both of which we must dare to +contemplate in their turn. + +Let me hide, too, these ridiculous monsters which ornament my +chimneypiece. Plato has said that "the beautiful is nothing else than +the visible form of the good." If it is so, the ugly should be the +visible form of the evil, and, by constantly beholding it, the mind +insensibly deteriorates. + +But above all, in order to cherish the feelings of kindness and pity, let +me hang at the foot of my bed this affecting picture of the Last Sleep! +Never have I been able to look at it without feeling my heart touched. + +An old woman, clothed in rags, is lying by a roadside; her stick is at +her feet, and her head rests upon a stone; she has fallen asleep; her +hands are clasped; murmuring a prayer of her childhood, she sleeps her +last sleep, she dreams her last dream! + +She sees herself, again a strong and happy child, keeping the sheep on +the common, gathering the berries from the hedges, singing, curtsying to +passers-by, and making the sign of the cross when the first star appears +in the heavens! Happy time, filled with fragrance and sunshine! She +wants nothing yet, for she is ignorant of what there is to wish for. + +But see her grown up; the time is come for working bravely: she must cut +the corn, thresh the wheat, carry the bundles of flowering clover or +branches of withered leaves to the farm. If her toil is hard, hope +shines like a sun over everything and it wipes the drops of sweat away. +The growing girl already sees that life is a task, but she still sings as +she fulfills it. + +By-and-bye the burden becomes heavier; she is a wife, she is a mother! +She must economize the bread of to-day, have her eye upon the morrow, +take care of the sick, and sustain the feeble; she must act, in short, +that part of an earthly Providence, so easy when God gives us his aid, +so hard when he forsakes us. She is still strong, but she is anxious; +she sings no longer! + +Yet a few years, and all is overcast. The husband's health is broken; +his wife sees him pine away by the now fireless hearth; cold and hunger +finish what sickness had begun; he dies, and his widow sits on the ground +by the coffin provided by the charity of others, pressing her two half- +naked little ones in her arms. She dreads the future, she weeps, and she +droops her head. + +At last the future has come; the children are grown up, but they are no +longer with her. Her son is fighting under his country's flag, and his +sister is gone. Both have been lost to her for a long time--perhaps +forever; and the strong girl, the brave wife, the courageous mother, is +henceforth only a poor old beggar-woman, without a family, and without a +home! She weeps no more, sorrow has subdued her; she surrenders, and +waits for death. + +Death, that faithful friend of the wretched, is come: not hideous and +with mockery, as superstition represents, but beautiful, smiling, and +crowned with stars! The gentle phantom stoops to the beggar; its pale +lips murmur a few airy words, which announce to her the end of her +labors; a peaceful joy comes over the aged beggarwoman, and, leaning on +the shoulder of the great Deliverer, she has passed unconsciously from +her last earthly sleep to her eternal rest. + +Lie there, thou poor way-wearied woman! The leaves will serve thee for a +winding-sheet. Night will shed her tears of dew over thee, and the birds +will sing sweetly by thy remains. Thy visit here below will not have +left more trace than their flight through the air; thy name is already +forgotten, and the only legacy thou hast to leave is the hawthorn stick +lying forgotten at thy feet! + +Well! some one will take it up--some soldier of that great human host +which is scattered abroad by misery or by vice; for thou art not an +exception, thou art an instance; and under the same sun which shines so +pleasantly upon all, in the midst of these flowering vineyards, this ripe +corn, and these wealthy cities, entire generations suffer, succeed each +other, and still bequeath to each the beggar's stick! + +The sight of this sad picture shall make me more grateful for what God +has given me, and more compassionate for those whom he has treated with +less indulgence; it shall be a lesson and a subject for reflection for +me. + +Ah! if we would watch for everything that might improve and instruct us; +if the arrangements of our daily life were so disposed as to be a +constant school for our minds! but oftenest we take no heed of them. +Man is an eternal mystery to himself; his own person is a house into +which he never enters, and of which he studies the outside alone. Each +of us need have continually before him the famous inscription which once +instructed Socrates, and which was engraved on the walls of Delphi by an +unknown hand: + + KNOW THYSELF. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE END OF THE YEAR + +December 30th, P.M. + +I was in bed, and hardly recovered from the delirious fever which had +kept me for so long between life and death. My weakened brain was making +efforts to recover its activity; my thoughts, like rays of light +struggling through the clouds, were still confused and imperfect; at +times I felt a return of the dizziness which made a chaos of all my +ideas, and I floated, so to speak, between alternate fits of mental +wandering and consciousness. + +Sometimes everything seemed plain to me, like the prospect which, from +the top of some high mountain, opens before us in clear weather. We +distinguish water, woods, villages, cattle, even the cottage perched on +the edge of the ravine; then suddenly there comes a gust of wind laden +with mist, and all is confused and indistinct. + +Thus, yielding to the oscillations of a half-recovered reason, I allowed +my mind to follow its various impulses without troubling myself to +separate the real from the imaginary; I glided softly from one to the +other, and my dreams and waking thoughts succeeded closely upon one +another. + +Now, while my mind is wandering in this unsettled state, see, underneath +the clock which measures the hours with its loud ticking, a female figure +appears before me! + +At first sight I saw enough to satisfy me that she was not a daughter of +Eve. In her eye was the last flash of an expiring star, and her face had +the pallor of an heroic death-struggle. She was dressed in a drapery of +a thousand changing colors of the brightest and the most sombre hues, and +held a withered garland in her hand. + +After having contemplated her for some moments, I asked her name, and +what brought her into my attic. Her eyes, which were following the +movements of the clock, turned toward me, and she replied: + +"You see in me the year which is just drawing to its end; I come to +receive your thanks and your farewell." + +I raised myself on my elbow in surprise, which soon gave place to bitter +resentment. + +"Ah! you want thanks," cried I; "but first let me know what for? + +"When I welcomed your coming, I was still young and vigorous: you have +taken from me each day some little of my strength, and you have ended by +inflicting an illness upon me; already, thanks to you, my blood is less +warm, my muscles less firm, and my feet less agile than before! You have +planted the germs of infirmity in my bosom; there, where the summer +flowers of life were growing, you have wickedly sown the nettles of old +age! + +"And, as if it were not enough to weaken my body, you have also +diminished the powers of my soul; you have extinguished her enthusiasm; +she is become more sluggish and more timid. Formerly her eyes took in +the whole of mankind in their generous survey; but you have made her +nearsighted, and now she hardly sees beyond herself! "That is what you +have done for my spiritual being: then as to my outward existence, see to +what grief, neglect, and misery you have reduced it! "For the many days +that the fever has kept me chained to this bed, who has taken care of +this home in which I placed all my joy? Shall I not find my closets +empty, my bookcase ,stripped, all my poor treasures lost through +negligence or dishonesty? Where are the plants I cultivated, the birds I +fed? All are gone! my attic is despoiled, silent and solitary! "As it +is only for the last few moments that I have returned to a consciousness +of what surrounds me, I am even ignorant who has nursed me during my long +illness! Doubtless some hireling, who will leave when all my means of +recompense are exhausted ! "And what will my masters, for whom I am +bound to work, have said to my absence? At this time of the year, when +business is most pressing, can they have done without me, will they even +have tried to do so? Perhaps I am already superseded in the humble +situation by which I earned my daily bread! And it is thou-thou alone, +wicked daughter of Time--who hast brought all these misfortunes upon me: +strength, health, comfort, work--thou hast taken all from me. I have +only received outrage and loss from thee, and yet thou darest to claim my +gratitude! + +"Ah! die then, since thy day is come; but die despised and cursed; and +may I write on thy tomb the epitaph the Arabian poet inscribed upon that +of a king: + + "'Rejoice, thou passer-by: he whom we have buried here + cannot live again.'" + + ....................... + +I was wakened by a hand taking mine; and opening my eyes, I recognized +the doctor. + +After having felt my pulse, he nodded his head, sat down at the foot of +the bed, and looked at me, rubbing his nose with his snuffbox. I have +since learned that this was a sign of satisfaction with the doctor. + +"Well! so we wanted old snub-nose to carry us off?" said M. Lambert, in +his half-joking, half-scolding way. "What the deuce of a hurry we were +in! It was necessary to hold you back with both arms at least!" + +"Then you had given me up, doctor?" asked I, rather alarmed. + +"Not at all," replied the old physician. "We can't give up what we have +not got; and I make it a rule never to have any hope. We are but +instruments in the hands of Providence, and each of us should say, with +Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!"' + +"May He be blessed then, as well as you," cried I; "and may my health +come back with the new year!" + +M. Lambert shrugged his shoulders. + +"Begin by asking yourself for it," resumed he, bluntly. "God has given +it you, and it is your own sense, and not chance, that must keep it for +you. One would think, to hear people talk, that sickness comes upon us +like the rain or the sunshine, without one having a word to say in the +matter. Before we complain of being ill we should prove that we deserve +to be well." + +I was about to smile, but the doctor looked angry. + +"Ah! you think that I am joking," resumed he, raising his voice; "but +tell me, then, which of us gives his health the same attention that he +gives to his business? Do you economize your strength as you economize +your money? Do you avoid excess and imprudence in the one case with the +same care as extravagance or foolish speculations in the other? Do you +keep as regular accounts of your mode of living as you do of your income? +Do you consider every evening what has been wholesome or unwholesome for +you, with the same care that you bring to the examination of your +expenditure? You may smile; but have you not brought this illness on +yourself by a thousand indiscretions?" + +I began to protest against this, and asked him to point out these +indiscretions. The old doctor spread out his fingers, and began to +reckon upon them one by one. + +"Primo," cried he, "want of exercise. You live here like a mouse in a +cheese, without air, motion, or change. Consequently, the blood +circulates badly, the fluids thicken, the muscles, being inactive, do not +claim their share of nutrition, the stomach flags, and the brain grows +weary. + +"Secundo. Irregular food. Caprice is your cook; your stomach a slave +who must accept what you give it, but who presently takes a sullen +revenge, like all slaves. + +"Tertio. Sitting up late. Instead of using the night for sleep, you +spend it in reading; your bedstead is a bookcase, your pillows a desk! +At the time when the wearied brain asks for rest, you lead it through +these nocturnal orgies, and you are surprised to find it the worse for +them the next day. + +"Quarto. Luxurious habits. Shut up in your attic, you insensibly +surround yourself with a thousand effeminate indulgences. You must have +list for your door, a blind for your window, a carpet for your feet, an +easy-chair stuffed with wool for your back, your fire lit at the first +sign of cold, and a shade to your lamp; and thanks to all these +precautions, the least draught makes you catch cold, common chairs give +you no rest, and you must wear spectacles to support the light of day. +You have thought you were acquiring comforts, and you have only +contracted infirmities. + +"Quinto" + +"Ah! enough, enough, doctor!" cried I. "Pray, do not carry your +examination farther; do not attach a sense of remorse to each of my +pleasures." + +The old doctor rubbed his nose with his snuffbox. + +"You see," said he, more gently, and rising at the same time, "you would +escape from the truth. You shrink from inquiry--a proof that you are +guilty. 'Habemus confitentem reum'! But at least, my friend, do not go +on laying the blame on Time, like an old woman." + +Thereupon he again felt my pulse, and took his leave, declaring that his +function was at an end, and that the rest depended upon myself. + +When the doctor was gone, I set about reflecting upon what he had said. + +Although his words were too sweeping, they were not the less true in the +main. How often we accuse chance of an illness, the origin of which we +should seek in ourselves! Perhaps it would have been wiser to let him +finish the examination he had begun. + +But is there not another of more importance--that which concerns the +health of the soul? Am I so sure of having neglected no means of +preserving that during the year which is now ending? Have I, as one of +God's soldiers upon earth, kept my courage and my arms efficient? Shall +I be ready for the great review of souls which must pass before Him WHO +IS in the dark valley of Jehoshaphat? + +Darest thou examine thyself, O my soul! and see how often thou hast +erred? + +First, thou hast erred through pride! for I have not duly valued the +lowly. I have drunk too deeply of the intoxicating wines of genius, and +have found no relish in pure water. I have disdained those words which +had no other beauty than their sincerity; I have ceased to love men +solely because they are men--I have loved them for their endowments; I +have contracted the world within the narrow compass of a pantheon, and my +sympathy has been awakened by admiration only. The vulgar crowd, which I +ought to have followed with a friendly eye because it is composed of my +brothers in hope or grief, I have let pass by with as much indifference +as if it were a flock of sheep. I am indignant with him who rolls in +riches and despises the man poor in worldly wealth; and yet, vain of my +trifling knowledge, I despise him who is poor in mind--I scorn the +poverty of intellect as others do that of dress; I take credit for a gift +which I did not bestow on myself, and turn the favor of fortune into a +weapon with which to attack others. + +Ah! if, in the worst days of revolutions, ignorance has revolted and +raised a cry of hatred against genius, the fault is not alone in the +envious malice of ignorance, but comes in part, too, from the +contemptuous pride of knowledge. + +Alas! I have too completely forgotten the fable of the two sons of the +magician of Bagdad. + +One of them, struck by an irrevocable decree of destiny, was born blind, +while the other enjoyed all the delights of sight. The latter, proud of +his own advantages, laughed at his brother's blindness, and disdained him +as a companion. One morning the blind boy wished to go out with him. + +"To what purpose," said he, "since the gods have put nothing in common +between us? For me creation is a stage, where a thousand charming scenes +and wonderful actors appear in succession; for you it is only an obscure +abyss, at the bottom of which you hear the confused murmur of an +invisible world. Continue then alone in your darkness, and leave the +pleasures of light to those upon whom the day-star shines." + +With these words he went away, and his brother, left alone, began to cry +bitterly. His father, who heard him, immediately ran to him, and tried +to console him by promising to give him whatever he desired. + +"Can you give me sight?" asked the child. + +"Fate does not permit it," said the magician. + +"Then," cried the blind boy, eagerly, "I ask you to put out the sun!" + +Who knows whether my pride has not provoked the same wish on the part of +some one of my brothers who does not see? + +But how much oftener have I erred through levity and want of thought! +How many resolutions have I taken at random! how many judgments have I +pronounced for the sake of a witticism! how many mischiefs have I not +done without any sense of my responsibility! The greater part of men +harm one another for the sake of doing something. We laugh at the honor +of one, and compromise the reputation of another, like an idle man who +saunters along a hedgerow, breaking the young branches and destroying the +most beautiful flowers. + +And, nevertheless, it is by this very thoughtlessness that the fame of +some men is created. It rises gradually, like one of those mysterious +mounds in barbarous countries, to which a stone is added by every +passerby; each one brings something at random, and adds it as he passes, +without being able himself to see whether he is raising a pedestal or a +gibbet. Who will dare look behind him, to see his rash judgments held up +there to view? + +Some time ago I was walking along the edge of the green mound on which +the Montmartre telegraph stands. Below me, along one of the zigzag paths +which wind up the hill, a man and a girl were coming up, and arrested my +attention. The man wore a shaggy coat, which gave him some resemblance +to a wild beast; and he held a thick stick in his hand, with which he +described various strange figures in the air. He spoke very loud, and in +a voice which seemed to me convulsed with passion. He raised his eyes +every now and then with an expression of savage harshness, and it +appeared to me that he was reproaching and threatening the girl, and that +she was listening to him with a submissiveness which touched my heart. +Two or three times she ventured a few words, doubtless in the attempt to +justify herself; but the man in the greatcoat began again immediately +with his loud and angry voice, his savage looks, and his threatening +evolutions in the air. I followed him with my eyes, vainly endeavoring +to catch a word as he passed, until he disappeared behind the hill. + +I had evidently just seen one of those domestic tyrants whose sullen +tempers are excited by the patience of their victims, and who, though +they have the power to become the beneficent gods of a family, choose +rather to be their tormentors. + +I cursed the unknown savage in my heart, and I felt indignant that these +crimes against the sacred peace of home could not be punished as they +deserve, when I heard his voice approaching nearer. He had turned the +path, and soon appeared before me at the top of the slope. + +The first glance, and his first words, explained everything to me: in +place of what I had taken for the furious tones and terrible looks of an +angry man, and the attitude of a frightened victim, I had before me only +an honest citizen, who squinted and stuttered, but who was explaining the +management of silkworms to his attentive daughter. + +I turned homeward, smiling at my mistake; but before I reached my +faubourg I saw a crowd running, I heard calls for help, and every +finger pointed in the same direction to a distant column of flame. +A manufactory had taken fire, and everybody was rushing forward to +assist in extinguishing it. + +I hesitated. Night was coming on; I felt tired; a favorite book was +awaiting me; I thought there would be no want of help, and I went on my +way. + +Just before I had erred from want of consideration; now it was from +selfishness and cowardice. + +But what! have I not on a thousand other occasions forgotten the duties +which bind us to our fellowmen? Is this the first time I have avoided +paying society what I owe it? Have I not always behaved to my companions +with injustice, and like the lion? Have I not claimed successively every +share? If any one is so ill-advised as to ask me to return some little +portion, I get provoked, I am angry, I try to escape from it by every +means. How many times, when I have perceived a beggar sitting huddled up +at the end of the street, have I not gone out of my way, for fear that +compassion would impoverish me by forcing me to be charitable! How often +have I doubted the misfortunes of others, that I might with justice +harden my heart against them. + +With what satisfaction have I sometimes verified the vices of the poor +man, in order to show that his misery is the punishment he deserves! + +Oh! let us not go farther--let us not go farther! I interrupted the +doctor's examination, but how much sadder is this one! We pity the +diseases of the body; we shudder at those of the soul. + +I was happily disturbed in my reverie by my neighbor, the old soldier. + +Now I think of it, I seem always to have seen, during my fever, the +figure of this good old man, sometimes leaning against my bed, and +sometimes sitting at his table, surrounded by his sheets of pasteboard. + +He has just come in with his glue-pot, his quire of green paper, and his +great scissors. I called him by his name; he uttered a joyful +exclamation, and came near me. + +"Well! so the bullet is found again!" cried he, taking my two hands into +the maimed one which was left him; "it has not been without trouble, +I can tell you; the campaign has been long enough to win two clasps in. +I have seen no few fellows with the fever batter windmills during my +hospital days: at Leipsic, I had a neighbor who fancied a chimney was on +fire in his stomach, and who was always calling for the fire-engines; but +the third day it all went out of itself. But with you it has lasted +twenty-eight days--as long as one of the Little Corporal's campaigns." + +"I am not mistaken then; you were near me?" + +"Well! I had only to cross the passage. This left hand has not made you +a bad nurse for want of the right; but, bah! you did not know what hand +gave you drink, and it did not prevent that beggar of a fever from being +drowned--for all the world like Poniatowski in the Elster." + +The old soldier began to laugh, and I, feeling too much affected to +speak, pressed his hand against my breast. He saw my emotion, and +hastened to put an end to it. + +"By-the-bye, you know that from to-day you have a right to draw your +rations again," resumed he gayly; "four meals, like the German meinherrs +--nothing more! The doctor is your house steward." + +"We must find the cook, too," replied I, with a smile. + +"She is found," said the veteran. + +"Who is she?" + +"Genevieve." + +"The fruit-woman?" + +"While I am talking she is cooking for you, neighbor; and do not fear her +sparing either butter or trouble. As long as life and death were +fighting for you, the honest woman passed her time in going up and down +stairs to learn which way the battle went. And, stay, I am sure this is +she." + +In fact we heard steps in the passage, and he went to open the door. + +"Oh, well!" continued he, "it is Mother Millot, our portress, another of +your good friends, neighbor, and whose poultices I recommend to you. +Come in, Mother Millot--come in; we are quite bonny boys this morning, +and ready to step a minuet if we had our dancing-shoes." + +The portress came in, quite delighted. She brought my linen, washed and +mended by herself, with a little bottle of Spanish wine, the gift of her +sailor son, and kept for great occasions. I would have thanked her, but +the good woman imposed silence upon me, under the pretext that the doctor +had forbidden me to speak. I saw her arrange everything in my drawers, +the neat appearance of which struck me; an attentive hand had evidently +been there, and day by day put straight the unavoidable disorder +consequent on sickness. + +As she finished, Genevieve arrived with my dinner; she was followed by +Mother Denis, the milk-woman over the way, who had learned, at the same +time, the danger I had been in, and that I was now beginning to be +convalescent. The good Savoyard brought me a new-laid egg, which she +herself wished to see me eat. + +It was necessary to relate minutely all my illness to her. At every +detail she uttered loud exclamations; then, when the portress warned her +to be less noisy, she excused herself in a whisper. They made a circle +around me to see me eat my dinner; each mouthful I took was accompanied +by their expressions of satisfaction and thankfulness. Never had the +King of France, when he dined in public, excited such admiration among +the spectators. + +As they were taking the dinner away, my colleague, the old cashier, +entered in his turn. + +I could not prevent my heart beating as I recognized him. How would the +heads of the firm look upon my absence, and what did he come to tell me? + +I waited with inexpressible anxiety for him to speak; but he sat down by +me, took my hand, and began rejoicing over my recovery, without saying a +word about our masters. I could not endure this uncertainty any longer. + +"And the Messieurs Durmer," asked I, hesitatingly, "how have they taken-- +the interruption to my work?" + +"There has been no interruption," replied the old clerk, quietly. + +"What do you mean?" + +"Each one in the office took a share of your duty; all has gone on as +usual, and the Messieurs Durmer have perceived no difference." + +This was too much. After so many instances of affection, this filled up +the measure. I could not restrain my tears. + +Thus the few services I had been able to do for others had been +acknowledged by them a hundredfold! I had sown a little seed, and every +grain had fallen on good ground, and brought forth a whole sheaf. Ah! +this completes the lesson the doctor gave me. If it is true that the +diseases, whether of the mind or body, are the fruit of our follies and +our vices, sympathy and affection are also the rewards of our having done +our duty. Every one of us, with God's help, and within the narrow limits +of human capability, himself makes his own disposition, character, and +permanent condition. + +Everybody is gone; the old soldier has brought me back my flowers and my +birds, and they are my only companions. The setting sun reddens my half- +closed curtains with its last rays. My brain is clear, and my heart +lighter. A thin mist floats before my eyes, and I feel myself in that +happy state which precedes a refreshing sleep. + +Yonder, opposite the bed, the pale goddess in her drapery of a thousand +changing colors, and with her withered garland, again appears before me; +but this time I hold out my hand to her with a grateful smile. + +"Adieu, beloved year! whom I but now unjustly accused. That which I +have suffered must not be laid to thee; for thou wast but a tract through +which God had marked out my road--a ground where I had reaped the harvest +I had sown. I will love thee, thou wayside shelter, for those hours of +happiness thou hast seen me enjoy; I will love thee even for the +suffering thou hast seen me endure. Neither happiness nor suffering came +from thee; but thou hast been the scene for them. Descend again then, in +peace, into eternity, and be blest, thou who hast left me experience in +the place of youth, sweet memories instead of past time, and gratitude as +payment for good offices." + + + + +ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS: + +Ambroise Pare: 'I tend him, God cures him!' +Are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws +Attach a sense of remorse to each of my pleasures +But above these ruins rises a calm and happy face +Contemptuous pride of knowledge +Death, that faithful friend of the wretched +Houses are vessels which take mere passengers +I make it a rule never to have any hope +Ignorant of what there is to wish for +Looks on an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance +More stir than work +Nothing is dishonorable which is useful +Richer than France herself, for I have no deficit in my budget +Satisfy our wants, if we know how to set bounds to them +Sensible man, who has observed much and speaks little +Sullen tempers are excited by the patience of their victims +The happiness of the wise man costs but little +We do not understand that others may live on their own account +What have you done with the days God granted you +You may know the game by the lair + + + + +End of this Project Gutenberg Etext of An "Attic" Philosopher, v3 +by Emile Souvestre + diff --git a/3998.zip b/3998.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5f0b063 --- /dev/null +++ b/3998.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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