On a lovely spring morning in
the year 1829, a man of fifty
or thereabouts was wending his
way on horseback along the mountain
road that leads to a large village
near the Grande Chartreuse. This
village is the market town of
a populous canton that lies within
the limits of a valley of some
considerable length. The melting
of the snows had filled the boulder-strewn
bed of the torrent (often dry)
that flows through this valley,
which is closely shut in between
two parallel mountain barriers,
above which the peaks of Savoy
and of Dauphine tower on every
side.
All the scenery of the country
that lies between the chain of
the two Mauriennes is very much
alike; yet here in the district
through which the stranger was
traveling there are soft undulations
of the land, and varying effects
of light which might be sought
for elsewhere in vain. Sometimes
the valley, suddenly widening,
spreads out a soft irregularly-shaped
carpet of grass before the eyes;
a meadow constantly watered by
the mountain streams that keep
it fresh and green at all seasons
of the year. Sometimes a roughly-built
sawmill appears in a picturesque
position, with its stacks of
long pine trunks with the bark
peeled off, and its mill stream,
brought from the bed of the torrent
in great square wooden pipes,
with masses of dripping filament
issuing from every crack. Little
cottages, scattered here and
there, with their gardens full
of blossoming fruit trees, call
up the ideas that are aroused
by the sight of industrious poverty;
while the thought of ease, secured
after long years of toil, is
suggested by some larger houses
farther on, with their red roofs
of flat round tiles, shaped like
the scales of a fish. There is
no door, moreover, that does
not duly exhibit a basket in
which the cheeses are hung up
to dry. Every roadside and every
croft is adorned with vines;
which here, as in Italy, they
train to grow about dwarf elm
trees, whose leaves are stripped
off to feed the cattle.
Nature, in her caprice, has
brought the sloping hills on
either side so near together
in some places, that there is
no room for fields, or buildings,
or peasants' huts. Nothing lies
between them but the torrent,
roaring over its waterfalls between
two lofty walls of granite that
rise above it, their sides covered
with the leafage of tall beeches
and dark fir trees to the height
of a hundred feet. The trees,
with their different kinds of
foliage, rise up straight and
tall, fantastically colored by
patches of lichen, forming magnificent
colonnades, with a line of straggling
hedgerow of guelder rose, briar
rose, box and arbutus above and
below the roadway at their feet.
The subtle perfume of this undergrowth
was mingled just then with scents
from the wild mountain region
and with the aromatic fragrance
of young larch shoots, budding
poplars, and resinous pines.
Here and there a wreath of
mist about the heights sometimes
hid and sometimes gave glimpses
of the gray crags, that seemed
as dim and vague as the soft
flecks of cloud dispersed among
them. The whole face of the country
changed every moment with the
changing light in the sky; the
hues of the mountains, the soft
shades of their lower slopes,
the very shape of the valleys
seemed to vary continually. A
ray of sunlight through the tree-stems,
a clear space made by nature
in the woods, or a landslip here
and there, coming as a surprise
to make a contrast in the foreground,
made up an endless series of
pictures delightful to see amid
the silence, at the time of year
when all things grow young, and
when the sun fills a cloudless
heaven with a blaze of light.
In short, it was a fair land--it
was the land of France!
The traveler was a tall man,
dressed from head to foot in
a suit of blue cloth, which must
have been brushed just as carefully
every morning as the glossy coat
of his horse. He held himself
firm and erect in the saddle
like an old cavalry officer.
Even if his black cravat and
doeskin gloves, the pistols that
filled his holsters, and the
valise securely fastened to the
crupper behind him had not combined
to mark him out as a soldier,
the air of unconcern that sat
on his face, his regular features
(scarred though they were with
the smallpox), his determined
manner, self-reliant expression,
and the way he held his head,
all revealed the habits acquired
through military discipline,
of which a soldier can never
quite divest himself, even after
he has retired from service into
private life.
Any other traveler would have
been filled with wonder at the
loveliness of this Alpine region,
which grows so bright and smiling
as it becomes merged in the great
valley systems of southern France;
but the officer, who no doubt
had previously traversed a country
across which the French armies
had been drafted in the course
of Napoleon's wars, enjoyed the
view before him without appearing
to be surprised by the many changes
that swept across it. It would
seem that Napoleon has extinguished
in his soldiers the sensation
of wonder; for an impassive face
is a sure token by which you
may know the men who served erewhile
under the short-lived yet deathless
Eagles of the great Emperor.
The traveler was, in fact, one
of those soldiers (seldom met
with nowadays) whom shot and
shell have respected, although
they have borne their part on
every battlefield where Napoleon
commanded.
There had been nothing unusual
in his life. He had fought valiantly
in the ranks as a simple and
loyal soldier, doing his duty
as faithfully by night as by
day, and whether in or out of
his officer's sight. He had never
dealt a sabre stroke in vain,
and was incapable of giving one
too many. If he wore at his buttonhole
the rosette of an officer of
the Legion of Honor, it was because
the unanimous voice of his regiment
had singled him out as the man
who best deserved to receive
it after the battle of Borodino.
He belonged
to that small minority of undemonstrative
retiring natures,
who are always at peace with
themselves, and who are conscious
of a feeling of humiliation at
the mere thought of making a
request, no matter what its nature
may be. So promotion had come
to him tardily, and by virtue
of the slowly-working laws of
seniority. He had been made a
sub-lieutenant in 1802, but it
was not until 1829 that he became
a major, in spite of the grayness
of his moustaches. His life had
been so blameless that no man
in the army, not even the general
himself, could approach him without
an involuntary feeling of respect.
It is possible that he was not
forgiven for this indisputable
superiority by those who ranked
above him; but, on the other
hand, there was not one of his
men that did not feel for him
something of the affection of
children for a good mother. For
them he knew how to be at once
indulgent and severe. He himself
had also once served in the ranks,
and knew the sorry joys and gaily-endured
hardships of the soldier's lot.
He knew the errors that may be
passed over and the faults that
must be punished in his men--"his
children," as he always called
them--and when on campaign he
readily gave them leave to forage
for provision for man and horse
among the wealthier classes.
His own personal
history lay buried beneath
the deepest reserve.
Like almost every military man
in Europe, he had only seen the
world through cannon smoke, or
in the brief intervals of peace
that occurred so seldom during
the Emperor's continual wars
with the rest of Europe. Had
he or had he not thought of marriage?
The question remained unsettled.
Although no one doubted that
Commandant Genestas had made
conquests during his sojourn
in town after town and country
after country where he had taken
part in the festivities given
and received by the officers,
yet no one knew this for a certainty.
There was no prudery about him;
he would not decline to join
a pleasure party; he in no way
offended against military standards;
but when questioned as to his
affairs of the heart, he either
kept silence or answered with
a jest. To the words, "How are
you, commandant?" addressed to
him by an officer over the wine,
his reply was, "Pass the bottle,
gentlemen."
M. Pierre Joseph Genestas was
an unostentatious kind of Bayard.
There was nothing romantic nor
picturesque about him--he was
too thoroughly commonplace. His
ways of living were those of
a well-to-do man. Although he
had nothing beside his pay, and
his pension was all that he had
to look to in the future, the
major always kept two years'
pay untouched, and never spent
his allowances, like some shrewd
old men of business with whom
cautious prudence has almost
become a mania. He was so little
of a gambler that if, when in
company, some one was wanted
to cut in or to take a bet at
ecarte, he usually fixed his
eyes on his boots; but though
he did not allow himself any
extravagances, he conformed in
every way to custom.
His uniforms lasted longer
than those of any other officer
in his regiment, as a consequence
of the sedulously careful habits
that somewhat straitened means
had so instilled into him, that
they had come to be like a second
nature. Perhaps he might have
been suspected of meannesss if
it had not been for the fact
that with wonderful disinterestedness
and all a comrade's readiness,
his purse would be opened for
some harebrained boy who had
ruined himself at cards or by
some other folly. He did a service
of this kind with such thoughtful
tact, that it seemed as though
he himself had at one time lost
heavy sums at play; he never
considered that he had any right
to control the actions of his
debtor; he never made mention
of the loan. He was the child
of his company; he was alone
in the world, so he had adopted
the army for his fatherland,
and the regiment for his family.
Very rarely, therefore, did any
one seek the motives underlying
his praiseworthy turn for thrift;
for it pleased others, for the
most part, to set it down to
a not unnatural wish to increase
the amount of the savings that
were to render his old age comfortable.
Till the eve of his promotion
to the rank of lieutenant-colonel
of cavalry it was fair to suppose
that it was his ambition to retire
in the course of some campaign
with a colonel's epaulettes and
pension.
If Genestas' name came up when
the officers gossiped after drill,
they were wont to classify him
among the men who begin with
taking the good-conduct prize
at school, and who, throughout
the term of their natural lives,
continue to be punctilious, conscientious,
and passionless--as good as white
bread, and just as insipid. Thoughtful
minds, however, regarded him
very differently. Not seldom
it would happen that a glance,
or an expression as full of significance
as the utterance of a savage,
would drop from him and bear
witness to past storms in his
soul; and a careful study of
his placid brow revealed a power
of stifling down and repressing
his passions into inner depths,
that had been dearly bought by
a lengthy acquaintance with the
perils and disastrous hazards
of war. An officer who had only
just joined the regiment, the
son of a peer of France, had
said one day of Genestas, that
he would have made one of the
most conscientious of priests,
or the most upright of tradesmen.
"Add, the least of a courtier
among marquises," put in Genestas,
scanning the young puppy, who
did not know that his commandant
could overhear him.
There was a burst of laughter
at the words, for the lieutenant's
father cringed to all the powers
that be; he was a man of supple
intellect, accustomed to jump
with every change of government,
and his son took after him.
Men like Genestas are met with
now and again in the French army;
natures that show themselves
to be wholly great at need, and
relapse into their ordinary simplicity
when the action is over; men
that are little mindful of fame
and reputation, and utterly forgetful
of danger. Perhaps there are
many more of them than the shortcomings
of our own characters will allow
us to imagine. Yet, for all that,
any one who believed that Genestas
was perfect would be strangely
deceiving himself. The major
was suspicious, given to violent
outbursts of anger, and apt to
be tiresome in argument; he was
full of national prejudices,
and above all things, would insist
that he was in the right, when
he was, as a matter of fact,
in the wrong. He retained the
liking for good wine that he
had acquired in the ranks. If
he rose from a banquet with all
the gravity befitting his position,
he seemed serious and pensive,
and had no mind at such times
to admit any one into his confidence.
Finally, although he was sufficiently
acquainted with the customs of
society and with the laws of
politeness, to which he conformed
as rigidly as if they had been
military regulations; though
he had real mental power, both
natural and acquired; and although
he had mastered the art of handling
men, the science of tactics,
the theory of sabre play, and
the mysteries of the farrier's
craft, his learning had been
prodigiously neglected. He knew
in a hazy kind of way that Caesar
was a Roman Consul, or an Emperor,
and that Alexander was either
a Greek or a Macedonian; he would
have conceded either quality
or origin in both cases without
discussion. If the conversation
turned on science or history,
he was wont to become thoughtful,
and to confine his share in it
to little approving nods, like
a man who by dint of profound
thought has arrived at scepticism.
When, at Schonbrunn, on May
13, 1809, Napoleon wrote the
bulletin addressed to the Grand
Army, then the masters of Vienna,
in which he said that like Medea,
the Austrian princes had slain
their children with their own
hands; Genestas, who had been
recently made a captain, did
not wish to compromise his newly
conferred dignity by asking who
Medea was; he relied upon Napoleon's
character, and felt quite sure
that the Emperor was incapable
of making any announcement not
in proper form to the Grand Army
and the House of Austria. So
he thought that Medea was some
archduchess whose conduct was
open to criticism. Still, as
the matter might have some bearing
on the art of war, he felt uneasy
about the Medea of the bulletin
until a day arrived when Mlle.
Raucourt revived the tragedy
of Medea. The captain saw the
placard, and did not fail to
repair to the Theatre Francais
that evening, to see the celebrated
actress in her mythological role,
concerning which he gained some
information from his neighbors.
A man, however, who as a private
soldier had possessed sufficient
force of character to learn to
read, write, and cipher, could
clearly understand that as a
captain he ought to continue
his education. So from this time
forth he read new books and romances
with avidity, in this way gaining
a half-knowledge, of which he
made a very fair use. He went
so far in his gratitude to his
teachers as to undertake the
defence of Pigault-Lebrun, remarking
that in his opinion he was instructive
and not seldom profound.
This officer, whose acquired
practical wisdom did not allow
him to make any journey in vain,
had just come from Grenoble,
and was on his way to the Grande
Chartreuse, after obtaining on
the previous evening a week's
leave of absence from his colonel.
He had not expected that the
journey would be a long one;
but when, league after league,
he had been misled as to the
distance by the lying statements
of the peasants, he thought it
would be prudent not to venture
any farther without fortifying
the inner man. Small as were
his chances of finding any housewife
in her dwelling at a time when
every one was hard at work in
the fields, he stopped before
a little cluster of cottages
that stood about a piece of land
common to all of them, more or
less describing a square, which
was open to all comers.
The surface of the soil thus
held in conjoint ownership was
hard and carefully swept, but
intersected by open drains. Roses,
ivy, and tall grasses grew over
the cracked and disjointed walls.
Some rags were drying on a miserable
currant bush that stood at the
entrance of the square. A pig
wallowing in a heap of straw
was the first inhabitant encountered
by Genestas. At the sound of
horse hoofs the creature grunted,
raised its head, and put a great
black cat to flight. A young
peasant girl, who was carrying
a bundle of grass on her head,
suddenly appeared, followed at
a distance by four little brats,
clad in rags, it is true, but
vigorous, sunburned, picturesque,
bold-eyed, and riotous; thorough
little imps, looking like angels.
The sun shone down with an indescribable
purifying influence upon the
air, the wretched cottages, the
heaps of refuse, and the unkempt
little crew.
The soldier asked whether it
was possible to obtain a cup
of milk. All the answer the girl
made him was a hoarse cry. An
old woman suddenly appeared on
the threshold of one of the cabins,
and the young peasant girl passed
on into a cowshed, with a gesture
that pointed out the aforesaid
old woman, towards whom Genestas
went; taking care at the same
time to keep a tight hold on
his horse, lest the children
who were already running about
under his hoofs should be hurt.
He repeated his request, with
which the housewife flatly refused
to comply. She would not, she
said, disturb the cream on the
pans full of milk from which
butter was to be made. The officer
overcame this objection by undertaking
to repay her amply for the wasted
cream, and then tied up his horse
at the door, and went inside
the cottage.
The four children belonging
to the woman all appeared to
be of the same age--an odd circumstance
which struck the commandant.
A fifth clung about her skirts;
a weak, pale, sickly-looking
child, who doubtless needed more
care than the others, and who
on that account was the best
beloved, the Benjamin of the
family.
Genestas seated himself in
a corner by the fireless hearth.
A sublime symbol met his eyes
on the high mantel-shelf above
him--a colored plaster cast of
the Virgin with the Child Jesus
in her arms. Bare earth made
the flooring of the cottage.
It had been beaten level in the
first instance, but in course
of time it had grown rough and
uneven, so that though it was
clean, its ruggedness was not
unlike that of the magnified
rind of an orange. A sabot filled
with salt, a frying-pan, and
a large kettle hung inside the
chimney. The farther end of the
room was completely filled by
a four-post bedstead, with a
scalloped valance for decoration.
The walls were black; there was
an opening to admit the light
above the worm-eaten door; and
here and there were a few stools
consisting of rough blocks of
beech-wood, each set upon three
wooden legs; a hutch for bread,
a large wooden dipper, a bucket
and some earthen milk-pans, a
spinning-wheel on the top of
the bread-hutch, and a few wicker
mats for draining cheeses. Such
were the ornaments and household
furniture of the wretched dwelling.
The officer, who had been absorbed
in flicking his riding-whip against
the floor, presently became a
witness to a piece of by-play,
all unsuspicious though he was
that any drama was about to unfold
itself. No sooner had the old
woman, followed by her scald-headed
Benjamin, disappeared through
a door that led into her dairy,
than the four children, after
having stared at the soldier
as long as they wished, drove
away the pig by way of a beginning.
This animal, their accustomed
playmate, having come as far
as the threshold, the little
brats made such an energetic
attack upon him, that he was
forced to beat a hasty retreat.
When the enemy had been driven
without, the children besieged
the latch of a door that gave
way before their united efforts,
and slipped out of the worn staple
that held it; and finally they
bolted into a kind of fruit-loft,
where they very soon fell to
munching the dried plums, to
the amusement of the commandant,
who watched this spectacle. The
old woman, with the face like
parchment and the dirty ragged
clothing, came back at this moment,
with a jug of milk for her visitor
in her hand.
"Oh! you good-for-nothings!" cried
she.
She ran to the children, clutched
an arm of each child, bundled
them into the room, and carefully
closed the door of her storeroom
of plenty. But she did not take
their prunes away from them.
"Now, then, be good, my pets!
If one did not look after them," she
went on, looking at Genestas, "they
would eat up the whole lot of
prunes, the madcaps!"
Then she seated herself on
a three-legged stool, drew the
little weakling between her knees,
and began to comb and wash his
head with a woman's skill and
with motherly assiduity. The
four small thieves hung about.
Some of them stood, others leant
against the bed or the bread-
hutch. They gnawed their prunes
without saying a word, but they
kept their sly and mischievous
eyes fixed upon the stranger.
In spite of grimy countenances
and noses that stood in need
of wiping, they all looked strong
and healthy.
"Are they your children?" the
soldier asked the old woman.
"Asking your
pardon, sir, they are charity
children. They give
me three francs a month and a
pound's weight of soap for each
of them."
"But it must
cost you twice as much as that
to keep them,
good woman?"
"That is just
what M. Benassis tells me,
sir; but if other folk
will board the children for the
same money, one has to make it
do. Nobody wants the children,
but for all that there is a good
deal of performance to go through
before they will let us have
them. When the milk we give them
comes to nothing, they cost us
scarcely anything. Besides that,
three francs is a great deal,
sir; there are fifteen francs
coming in, to say nothing of
the five pounds' weight of soap.
In our part of the world you
would simply have to wear your
life out before you would make
ten sous a day."
"Then you have some land of
your own?" asked the commandant.
"No, sir. I
had some land once when my
husband was alive; since
he died I have done so badly
that I had to sell it"
"Why, how do you reach the
year's end without debts?" Genestas
went on, "when you bring up children
for a livelihood and wash and
feed them on two sous a day?"
"Well, we never go to St. Sylvester's
Day without debt, sir," she went
on without ceasing to comb the
child's hair. "But so it is--Providence
helps us out. I have a couple
of cows. Then my daughter and
I do some gleaning at harvest-time,
and in winter we pick up firewood.
Then at night we spin. Ah! we
never want to see another winter
like this last one, that is certain!
I owe the miller seventy-five
francs for flour. Luckily he
is M. Benassis' miller. M. Benassis,
ah! he is a friend to poor people.
He has never asked for his due
from anybody, and he will not
begin with us. Besides, our cow
has a calf, and that will set
us a bit straighter."
The four orphans for whom the
old woman's affection represented
all human guardianship had come
to an end of their prunes. As
their foster-mother's attention
was taken up by the officer with
whom she was chatting, they seized
the opportunity, and banded themselves
together in a compact file, so
as to make yet another assault
upon the latch of the door that
stood between them and the tempting
heap of dried plums. They advanced
to the attack, not like French
soldiers, but as stealthily as
Germans, impelled by frank animal
greediness.
"Oh! you little
rogues! Do you want to finish
them up?"
The old woman rose, caught
the strongest of the four, administered
a gentle slap on the back, and
flung him out of the house. Not
a tear did he shed, but the others
remained breathless with astonishment.
"They give
you a lot of trouble----"
"Oh! no, sir,
but they can smell the prunes,
the little
dears. If I were to leave them
alone here for a moment, they
would stuff themselves with them."
"You are very
fond of them?"
The old woman raised her head
at this, and looked at him with
gentle malice in her eyes.
"Fond of them!" she said. "I
have had to part with three of
them already. I only have the
care of them until they are six
years old," she went on with
a sigh.
"But where
are your own children?"
"I have lost
them."
"How old are you?" Genestas
asked, to efface the impression
left by his last question.
"I am thirty-eight
years old, sir. It will be
two years come
next St. John's Day since my
husband died."
She finished dressing the poor
sickly mite, who seemed to thank
her by a loving look in his faded
eyes.
"What a life of toil and self-denial!" thought
the cavalry officer.
Beneath a roof worthy of the
stable wherein Jesus Christ was
born, the hardest duties of motherhood
were fulfilled cheerfully and
without consciousness of merit.
What hearts were these that lay
so deeply buried in neglect and
obscurity! What wealth, and what
poverty! Soldiers, better than
other men, can appreciate the
element of grandeur to be found
in heroism in sabots, in the
Evangel clad in rags. The Book
may be found elsewhere, adorned,
embellished, tricked out in silk
and satin and brocade, but here,
of a surety, dwelt the spirit
of the Book. It was impossible
to doubt that Heaven had some
holy purpose underlying it all,
at the sight of the woman who
had taken a mother's lot upon
herself, as Jesus Christ had
taken the form of a man, who
gleaned and suffered and ran
into debt for her little waifs;
a woman who defrauded herself
in her reckonings, and would
not own that she was ruining
herself that she might be a Mother.
One was constrained to admit,
at the sight of her, that the
good upon earth have something
in common with the angels in
heaven; Commandant Genestas shook
his head as he looked at her.
"Is M. Benassis a clever doctor?" he
asked at last.
"I do not know,
sir, but he cures poor people
for nothing."
"It seems to me that this is
a man and no mistake!" he went
on, speaking to himself.
"Oh! yes, sir,
and a good man too! There is
scarcely any one
hereabouts that does not put
his name in their prayers, morning
and night!"
"That is for you, mother," said
the soldier, as he gave her several
coins, "and that is for the children," he
went on, as he added another
crown. "Is M. Benassis' house
still a long way off?" he asked,
when he had mounted his horse.
"Oh! no, sir,
a bare league at most."
The commandant set out, fully
persuaded that two leagues remained
ahead of him. Yet after all he
soon caught a glimpse through
the trees of the little town's
first cluster of houses, and
then of all the roofs that crowded
about a conical steeple, whose
slates were secured to the angles
of the wooden framework by sheets
of tin that glittered in the
sun. This sort of roof, which
has a peculiar appearance, denotes
the nearness of the borders of
Savoy, where it is very common.
The valley is wide at this particular
point, and a fair number of houses
pleasantly situated, either in
the little plain or along the
side of the mountain stream,
lend human interest to the well-tilled
spot, a stronghold with no apparent
outlet among the mountains that
surround it.
It was noon when Genestas reined
in his horse beneath an avenue
of elm-trees half-way up the
hillside, and only a few paces
from the town, to ask the group
of children who stood before
him for M. Benassis' house. At
first the children looked at
each other, then they scrutinized
the stranger with the expression
that they usually wear when they
set eyes upon anything for the
first time; a different curiosity
and a different thought in every
little face. Then the boldest
and the merriest of the band,
a little bright-eyed urchin,
with bare, muddy feet, repeated
his words over again, in child
fashion.
"M. Benassis' house, sir?" adding, "I
will show you the way there."
He walked along in front of
the horse, prompted quite as
much by a wish to gain a kind
of importance by being in the
stranger's company, as by a child's
love of being useful, or the
imperative craving to be doing
something, that possesses mind
and body at his age. The officer
followed him for the entire length
of the principal street of the
country town. The way was paved
with cobblestones, and wound
in and out among the houses,
which their owners had erected
along its course in the most
arbitrary fashion. In one place
a bake-house had been built out
into the middle of the roadway;
in another a gable protruded,
partially obstructing the passage,
and yet farther on a mountain
stream flowed across it in a
runnel. Genestas noticed a fair
number of roofs of tarred shingle,
but yet more of them were thatched;
a few were tiled, and some seven
or eight (belonging no doubt
to the cure, the justice of the
peace, and some of the wealthier
townsmen) were covered with slates.
There was a total absence of
regard for appearances befitting
a village at the end of the world,
which had nothing beyond it,
and no connection with any other
place. The people who lived in
it seemed to belong to one family
that dwelt beyond the limits
of the bustling world, with which
the collector of taxes and a
few ties of the very slenderest
alone served to connect them.
When Genestas had gone a step
or two farther, he saw on the
mountain side a broad road that
rose above the village. Clearly
there must be an old town and
a new town; and, indeed, when
the commandant reached a spot
where he could slacken the pace
of his horse, he could easily
see between the houses some well-built
dwellings whose new roofs brightened
the old-fashioned village. An
avenue of trees rose above these
new houses, and from among them
came the confused sounds of several
industries. He heard the songs
peculiar to busy toilers, a murmur
of many workshops, the rasping
of files, and the sound of falling
hammers. He saw the thin lines
of smoke from the chimneys of
each household, and the more
copious outpourings from the
forges of the van-builder, the
blacksmith, and the farrier.
At length, at the very end of
the village towards which his
guide was taking him, Genestas
beheld scattered farms and well-tilled
fields and plantations of trees
in thorough order. It might have
been a little corner of Brie,
so hidden away in a great fold
of the land, that at first sight
its existence would not be suspected
between the little town and the
mountains that closed the country
round.
Presently the child stopped.
"There is the door of HIS house," he
remarked.
The officer dismounted and
passed his arm through the bridle.
Then, thinking that the laborer
is worthy of his hire, he drew
a few sous from his waistcoat
pocket, and held them out to
the child, who looked astonished
at this, opened his eyes very
wide, and stayed on, without
thanking him, to watch what the
stranger would do next.
"Civilization has not made
much headway hereabouts," thought
Genestas; "the religion of work
is in full force, and begging
has not yet come thus far."
His guide, more from curiosity
than from any interested motive,
propped himself against the wall
that rose to the height of a
man's elbow. Upon this wall,
which enclosed the yard belonging
to the house, there ran a black
wooden railing on either side
of the square pillars of the
gates. The lower part of the
gates themselves was of solid
wood that had been painted gray
at some period in the past; the
upper part consisted of a grating
of yellowish spear-shaped bars.
These decorations, which had
lost all their color, gradually
rose on either half of the gates
till they reached the centre
where they met; their spikes
forming, when both leaves were
shut, an outline similar to that
of a pine-cone. The worm-eaten
gates themselves, with their
patches of velvet lichen, were
almost destroyed by the alternate
action of sun and rain. A few
aloe plants and some chance-sown
pellitory grew on the tops of
the square pillars of the gates,
which all but concealed the stems
of a couple of thornless acacias
that raised their tufted spikes,
like a pair of green powder-puffs,
in the yard.
The condition of the gateway
revealed a certain carelessness
of its owner which did not seem
to suit the officer's turn of
mind. He knitted his brows like
a man who is obliged to relinquish
some illusion. We usually judge
others by our own standard; and
although we indulgently forgive
our own shortcomings in them,
we condemn them harshly for the
lack of our special virtues.
If the commandant had expected
M. Benassis to be a methodical
or practical man, there were
unmistakable indications of absolute
indifference as to his material
concerns in the state of the
gates of his house. A soldier
possessed by Genestas' passion
for domestic economy could not
help at once drawing inferences
as to the life and character
of its owner from the gateway
before him; and this, in spite
of his habits of circumspection,
he in nowise failed to do. The
gates were left ajar, moreover--another
piece of carelessness!
Encouraged by this countrified
trust in all comers, the officer
entered the yard without ceremony,
and tethered his horse to the
bars of the gate. While he was
knotting the bridle, a neighing
sound from the stable caused
both horse and rider to turn
their eyes involuntarily in that
direction. The door opened, and
an old servant put out his head.
He wore a red woolen bonnet,
exactly like the Phrygian cap
in which Liberty is tricked out,
a piece of head-gear in common
use in this country.
As there was room for several
horses, this worthy individual,
after inquiring whether Genestas
had come to see M. Benassis,
offered the hospitality of the
stable to the newly-arrived steed,
a very fine animal, at which
he looked with an expression
of admiring affection. The commandant
followed his horse to see how
things were to go with it. The
stable was clean, there was plenty
of litter, and there was the
same peculiar air of sleek content
about M. Benassis' pair of horses
that distinguished the cure's
horse from all the rest of his
tribe. A maid-servant from within
the house came out upon the flight
of steps and waited. She appeared
to be the proper authority to
whom the stranger's inquiries
were to be addressed, although
the stableman had already told
him that M. Benassis was not
at home.
"The master has gone to the
flour-mill," said he. "If you
like to overtake him, you have
only to go along the path that
leads to the meadow; and the
mill is at the end of it."
Genestas preferred seeing the
country to waiting about indefinitely
for Benassis' return, so he set
out along the way that led to
the flour-mill. When he had gone
beyond the irregular line traced
by the town upon the hillside,
he came in sight of the mill
and the valley, and of one of
the loveliest landscapes that
he had ever seen.
The mountains bar the course
of the river, which forms a little
lake at their feet, and raise
their crests above it, tier on
tier. Their many valleys are
revealed by the changing hues
of the light, or by the more
or less clear outlines of the
mountain ridges fledged with
their dark forests of pines.
The mill had not long been built.
It stood just where the mountain
stream fell into the little lake.
There was all the charm about
it peculiar to a lonely house
surrounded by water and hidden
away behind the heads of a few
trees that love to grow by the
water-side. On the farther bank
of the river, at the foot of
a mountain, with a faint red
glow of sunset upon its highest
crest, Genestas caught a glimpse
of a dozen deserted cottages.
All the windows and doors had
been taken away, and sufficiently
large holes were conspicuous
in the dilapidated roofs, but
the surrounding land was laid
out in fields that were highly
cultivated, and the old garden
spaces had been turned into meadows,
watered by a system of irrigation
as artfully contrived as that
in use in Limousin. Unconsciously
the commandant paused to look
at the ruins of the village before
him.
How is it that men can never
behold any ruins, even of the
humblest kind, without feeling
deeply stirred? Doubtless it
is because they seem to be a
typical representation of evil
fortune whose weight is felt
so differently by different natures.
The thought of death is called
up by a churchyard, but a deserted
village puts us in mind of the
sorrows of life; death is but
one misfortune always foreseen,
but the sorrows of life are infinite.
Does not the thought of the infinite
underlie all great melancholy?
The officer reached the stony
path by the mill-pond before
he could hit upon an explanation
of this deserted village. The
miller's lad was sitting on some
sacks of corn near the door of
the house. Genestas asked for
M. Benassis.
"M. Benassis went over there," said
the miller, pointing out one
of the ruined cottages.
"Has the village been burned
down?" asked the commandant.
"No, sir."
"Then how did it come to be
in this state?" inquired Genestas.
"Ah! how?" the miller answered,
as he shrugged his shoulders
and went indoors; "M. Benassis
will tell you that."
The officer went over a rough
sort of bridge built up of boulders
taken from the torrent bed, and
soon reached the house that had
been pointed out to him. The
thatched roof of the dwelling
was still entire; it was covered
with moss indeed, but there were
no holes in it, and the door
and its fastenings seemed to
be in good repair. Genestas saw
a fire on the hearth as he entered,
an old woman kneeling in the
chimney-corner before a sick
man seated in a chair, and another
man, who was standing with his
face turned toward the fireplace.
The house consisted of a single
room, which was lighted by a
wretched window covered with
linen cloth. The floor was of
beaten earth; the chair, a table,
and a truckle-bed comprised the
whole of the furniture. The commandant
had never seen anything so poor
and bare, not even in Russia,
where the moujik's huts are like
the dens of wild beasts. Nothing
within it spoke of ordinary life;
there were not even the simplest
appliances for cooking food of
the commonest description. It
might have been a dog-kennel
without a drinking-pan. But for
the truckle-bed, a smock-frock
hanging from a nail, and some
sabots filled with straw, which
composed the invalid's entire
wardrobe, this cottage would
have looked as empty as the others.
The aged peasant woman upon her
knees was devoting all her attention
to keeping the sufferer's feet
in a tub filled with a brown
liquid. Hearing a footstep and
the clank of spurs, which sounded
strangely in ears accustomed
to the plodding pace of country
folk, the man turned to Genestas.
A sort of surprise, in which
the old woman shared was visible
in his face.
"There is no need to ask if
you are M. Benassis," said the
soldier. "You will pardon me,
sir, if, as a stranger impatient
to see you, I have come to seek
you on your field of battle,
instead of awaiting you at your
house. Pray do not disturb yourself;
go on with what you are doing.
When it is over, I will tell
you the purpose of my visit."
Genestas half seated himself
upon the edge of the table, and
remained silent. The firelight
shone more brightly in the room
than the faint rays of the sun,
for the mountain crests intercepted
them, so that they seldom reached
this corner of the valley. A
few branches of resinous pinewood
made a bright blaze, and it was
by the light of this fire that
the soldier saw the face of the
man towards whom he was drawn
by a secret motive, by a wish
to seek him out, to study and
to know him thoroughly well.
M. Benassis, the local doctor,
heard Genestas with indifference,
and with folded arms he returned
his bow, and went back to his
patient, quite unaware that he
was being subjected to a scrutiny
as earnest as that which the
soldier turned upon him.
Benassis was
a man of ordinary height, broad-shouldered
and
deep- chested. A capacious green
overcoat, buttoned up to the
chin, prevented the officer from
observing any characteristic
details of his personal appearance;
but his dark and motionless figure
served as a strong relief to
his face, which caught the bright
light of the blazing fire. The
face was not unlike that of a
satyr; there was the same slightly
protruding forehead, full, in
this case, of prominences, all
more or less denoting character;
the same turned-up nose, with
a sprightly cleavage at the tip;
the same high cheek-bones. The
lines of the mouth were crooked;
the lips, thick and red. The
chin turned sharply upwards.
There was an alert, animated
look in the brown eyes, to which
their pearly whites gave great
brightness, and which expressed
passions now subdued. His iron-gray
hair, the deep wrinkles in his
face, the bushy eyebrows that
had grown white already, the
veins on his protuberant nose,
the tanned face covered with
red blotches, everything about
him, in short, indicated a man
of fifty and the hard work of
his profession. The officer could
come to no conclusion as to the
capacity of the head, which was
covered by a close cap; but hidden
though it was, it seemed to him
to be one of the square-shaped
kind that gave rise to the expression "square-headed." Genestas
was accustomed to read the indications
that mark the features of men
destined to do great things,
since he had been brought into
close relations with the energetic
natures sought out by Napoleon;
so he suspected that there must
be some mystery in this life
of obscurity, and said to himself
as he looked at the remarkable
face before him:
"How comes
it that he is still a country
doctor?"
When he had made a careful
study of this countenance, that,
in spite of its resemblance to
other human faces, revealed an
inner life nowise in harmony
with a commonplace exterior,
he could not help sharing the
doctor's interest in his patient;
and the sight of that patient
completely changed the current
of his thoughts.
Much as the old cavalry officer
had seen in the course of his
soldier's career, he felt a thrill
of surprise and horror at the
sight of a human face which could
never have been lighted up with
thought--a livid face in which
a look of dumb suffering showed
so plainly--the same look that
is sometimes worn by a child
too young to speak, and too weak
to cry any longer; in short,
it was the wholly animal face
of an old dying cretin. The cretin
was the one variety of the human
species with which the commandant
had not yet come in contact.
At the sight of the deep, circular
folds of skin on the forehead,
the sodden, fish-like eyes, and
the head, with its short, coarse,
scantily-growing hair--a head
utterly divested of all the faculties
of the senses--who would not
have experienced, as Genestas
did, an instinctive feeling of
repulsion for a being that had
neither the physical beauty of
an animal nor the mental endowments
of man, who was possessed of
neither instinct nor reason,
and who had never heard nor spoken
any kind of articulate speech?
It seemed difficult to expend
any regrets over the poor wretch
now visibly drawing towards the
very end of an existence which
had not been life in any sense
of the word; yet the old woman
watched him with touching anxiety,
and was rubbing his legs where
the hot water did not reach them
with as much tenderness as if
he had been her husband. Benassis
himself, after a close scrutiny
of the dull eyes and corpse-like
face, gently took the cretin's
hand and felt his pulse.
"The bath is doing no good," he
said, shaking his head; "let
us put him to bed again."
He lifted the inert mass himself,
and carried him across to the
truckle-bed, from whence, no
doubt, he had just taken him.
Carefully he laid him at full
length, and straightened the
limbs that were growing cold
already, putting the head and
hand in position, with all the
heed that a mother could bestow
upon her child.
"It is all over, death is very
near," added Benassis, who remained
standing by the bedside.
The old woman gazed at the
dying form, with her hands on
her hips. A few tears stole down
her cheeks. Genestas remained
silent. He was unable to explain
to himself how it was that the
death of a being that concerned
him so little should affect him
so much. Unconsciously he shared
the feeling of boundless pity
that these hapless creatures
excite among the dwellers in
the sunless valleys wherein Nature
has placed them. This sentiment
has degenerated into a kind of
religious superstition in families
to which cretins belong; but
does it not spring from the most
beautiful of Christian virtues--from
charity, and from a belief in
a reward hereafter, that most
effectual support of our social
system, and the one thought that
enables us to endure our miseries?
The hope of inheriting eternal
bliss helps the relations of
these unhappy creatures and all
others round about them to exert
on a large scale, and with sublime
devotion, a mother's ceaseless
protecting care over an apathetic
creature who does not understand
it in the first instance, and
who in a little while forgets
it all. Wonderful power of religion!
that has brought a blind beneficence
to the aid of an equally blind
misery. Wherever cretins exist,
there is a popular belief that
the presence of one of these
creatures brings luck to a family--a
superstition that serves to sweeten
lives which, in the midst of
a town population, would be condemned
by a mistaken philanthropy to
submit to the harsh discipline
of an asylum. In the higher end
of the valley of Isere, where
cretins are very numerous, they
lead an out-of-door life with
the cattle which they are taught
to herd. There, at any rate,
they are at large, and receive
the reverence due to misfortune.
A moment later the village
bell clinked at slow regular
intervals, to acquaint the flock
with the death of one of their
number. In the sound that reached
the cottage but faintly across
the intervening space, there
was a thought of religion which
seemed to fill it with a melancholy
peace. The tread of many feet
echoed up the road, giving notice
of an approaching crowd of people--a
crowd that uttered not a word.
Then suddenly the chanting of
the Church broke the stillness,
calling up the confused thoughts
that take possession of the most
sceptical minds, and compel them
to yield to the influence of
the touching harmonies of the
human voice. The Church was coming
to the aid of a creature that
knew her not. The cure appeared,
preceded by a choir-boy, who
bore the crucifix, and followed
by the sacristan carrying the
vase of holy water, and by some
fifty women, old men, and children,
who had all come to add their
prayers to those of the Church.
The doctor and the soldier looked
at each other, and silently withdrew
to a corner to make room for
the kneeling crowd within and
without the cottage. During the
consoling ceremony of the Viaticum,
celebrated for one who had never
sinned, but to whom the Church
on earth was bidding a last farewell,
there were signs of real sorrow
on most of the rough faces of
the gathering, and tears flowed
over the rugged cheeks that sun
and wind and labor in the fields
had tanned and wrinkled. The
sentiment of voluntary kinship
was easy to explain. There was
not one in the place who had
not pitied the unhappy creature,
not one who would not have given
him his daily bread. Had he not
met with a father's care from
every child, and found a mother
in the merriest little girl?
"He is dead!" said
the cure.
The words struck his hearers
with the most unfeigned dismay.
The tall candles were lighted,
and several people undertook
to watch with the dead that night.
Benassis and the soldier went
out. A group of peasants in the
doorway stopped the doctor to
say:
"Ah! if you
have not saved his life, sir,
it was doubtless
because God wished to take him
to Himself."
"I did my best, children," the
doctor answered.
When they had come a few paces
from the deserted village, whose
last inhabitant had just died,
the doctor spoke to Genestas.
"You would
not believe, sir, what real
solace is contained
for me in what those peasants
have just said. Ten years ago
I was very nearly stoned to death
in this village. It is empty
to-day, but thirty families lived
in it then."
Genestas' face and gesture
so plainly expressed an inquiry,
that, as they went along, the
doctor told him the story promised
by this beginning.
"When I first settled here,
sir, I found a dozen cretins
in this part of the canton," and
the doctor turned round to point
out the ruined cottages for the
officer's benefit. "All the favorable
conditions for spreading the
hideous disease are there; the
air is stagnant, the hamlet lies
in the valley bottom, close beside
a torrent supplied with water
by the melted snows, and the
sunlight only falls on the mountain-top,
so that the valley itself gets
no good of the sun. Marriages
among these unfortunate creatures
are not forbidden by law, and
in this district they are protected
by superstitious notions, of
whose power I had no conception--superstitions
which I blamed at first, and
afterwards came to admire. So
cretinism was in a fair way to
spread all over the valley from
this spot. Was it not doing the
country a great service to put
a stop to this mental and physical
contagion? But imperatively as
the salutary changes were required,
they might cost the life of any
man who endeavored to bring them
about. Here, as in other social
spheres, if any good is to be
done, we come into collision
not merely with vested interests,
but with something far more dangerous
to meddle with--religious ideas
crystallized into superstitions,
the most permanent form taken
by human thought. I feared nothing.
"In the first
place, I sought for the position
of mayor in
the canton, and in this I succeeded.
Then, after obtaining a verbal
sanction from the prefect, and
by paying down the money, I had
several of these unfortunate
creatures transported over to
Aiguebelle, in Savoy, by night.
There are a great many of them
there, and they were certain
to be very kindly treated. When
this act of humanity came to
be known, the whole countryside
looked upon me as a monster.
The cure preached against me.
In spite of all the pains I took
to explain to all the shrewder
heads of the little place the
immense importance of being rid
of the idiots, and in spite of
the fact that I gave my services
gratuitously to the sick people
of the district, a shot was fired
at me from the corner of a wood.
"I went to
the Bishop of Grenoble and
asked him to change the cure.
Monseigneur was good enough to
allow me to choose a priest who
would share in my labors, and
it was my happy fortune to meet
with one of those rare natures
that seemed to have dropped down
from heaven. Then I went on with
my enterprise. After preparing
people's minds, I made another
transportation by night, and
six more cretins were taken away.
In this second attempt I had
the support of several people
to whom I had rendered some service,
and I was backed by the members
of the Communal Council, for
I had appealed to their parsimonious
instincts, showing them how much
it cost to support the poor wretches,
and pointing out how largely
they might gain by converting
their plots of ground (to which
the idiots had no proper title)
into allotments which were needed
in the township.
"All the rich
were on my side; but the poor,
the old women,
the children, and a few pig-headed
people were violently opposed
to me. Unluckily it so fell out
that my last removal had not
been completely carried out.
The cretin whom you have just
seen, not having returned to
his house, had not been taken
away, so that the next morning
he was the sole remaining example
of his species in the village.
There were several families still
living there; but though they
were little better than idiots,
they were, at any rate, free
from the taint of cretinism.
I determined to go through with
my work, and came officially
in open day to take the luckless
creature from his dwelling. I
had no sooner left my house than
my intention got abroad. The
cretin's friends were there before
me, and in front of his hovel
I found a crowd of women and
children and old people, who
hailed my arrival with insults
accompanied by a shower of stones.
"In the midst
of the uproar I should perhaps
have fallen
a victim to the frenzy that possesses
a crowd excited by its own outcries
and stirred up by one common
feeling, but the cretin saved
my life! The poor creature came
out of his hut, and raised the
clucking sound of his voice.
He seemed to be an absolute ruler
over the fanatical mob, for the
sight of him put a sudden stop
to the clamor. It occurred to
me that I might arrange a compromise,
and thanks to the quiet so opportunely
restored, I was able to propose
and explain it. Of course, those
who approved of my schemes would
not dare to second me in this
emergency, their support was
sure to be of a purely passive
kind, while these superstitious
folk would exert the most active
vigilance to keep their last
idol among them; it was impossible,
it seemed to me, to take him
away from them. So I promised
to leave the cretin in peace
in his dwelling, with the understanding
that he should live quite by
himself, and that the remaining
families in the village should
cross the stream and come to
live in the town, in some new
houses which I myself undertook
to build, adding to each house
a piece of ground for which the
Commune was to repay me later
on.
"Well, my dear
sir, it took me fully six months
to overcome
their objection to this bargain,
however much it may have been
to the advantage of the village
families. The affection which
they have for their wretched
hovels in country districts is
something quite unexplainable.
No matter how unwholesome his
hovel may be, a peasant clings
far more to it than a banker
does to his mansion. The reason
of it? That I do not know. Perhaps
thoughts and feelings are strongest
in those who have but few of
them, simply because they have
but few. Perhaps material things
count for much in the lives of
those who live so little in thought;
certain it is that the less they
have, the dearer their possessions
are to them. Perhaps, too, it
is with the peasant as with the
prisoner-- he does not squander
the powers of his soul, he centres
them all upon a single idea,
and this is how his feelings
come to be so exceedingly strong.
Pardon these reflections on the
part of a man who seldom exchanges
ideas with any one. But, indeed,
you must not suppose, sir, that
I am much taken up with these
far-fetched considerations. We
all have to be active and practical
here.
"Alas! the
fewer ideas these poor folk
have in their heads,
the harder it is to make them
see where their real interests
lie. There was nothing for it
but to give my whole attention
to every trifling detail of my
enterprise. One and all made
me the same answer, one of those
sayings, filled with homely sense,
to which there is no possible
reply, 'But your houses are not
yet built, sir!' they used to
say. 'Very good,' said I, 'promise
me that as soon as they are finished
you will come and live in them.'
"Luckily, sir, I obtained a
decision to the effect that the
whole of the mountain side above
the now deserted village was
the property of the township.
The sum of money brought in by
the woods on the higher slopes
paid for the building of the
new houses and for the land on
which they stood. They were built
forthwith; and when once one
of my refractory families was
fairly settled in, the rest of
them were not slow to follow.
The benefits of the change were
so evident that even the most
bigoted believer in the village,
which you might call soulless
as well as sunless, could not
but appreciate them. The final
decision in this matter, which
gave some property to the Commune,
in the possession of which we
were confirmed by the Council
of State, made me a person of
great importance in the canton.
But what a lot of worry there
was over it!" the doctor remarked,
stopping short, and raising a
hand which he let fall again--a
gesture that spoke volumes. "No
one knows, as I do, the distance
between the town and the Prefecture--whence
nothing comes out--and from the
Prefecture to the Council of
State--where nothing can be got
in.
"Well, after all," he resumed, "peace
be to the powers of this world!
They yielded to my importunities,
and that is saying a great deal.
If you only knew the good that
came of a carelessly scrawled
signature! Why, sir, two years
after I had taken these momentous
trifles in hand, and had carried
the matter through to the end,
every poor family in the Commune
had two cows at least, which
they pastured on the mountain
side, where (without waiting
this time for an authorization
from the Council of State) I
had established a system of irrigation
by means of cross trenches, like
those in Switzerland, Auvergne,
and Limousin. Much to their astonishment,
the townspeople saw some capital
meadows springing up under their
eyes, and thanks to the improvement
in the pasturage, the yield of
milk was very much larger. The
results of this triumph were
great indeed. Every one followed
the example set by my system
of irrigation; cattle were multiplied;
the area of meadow land and every
kind of out-turn increased. I
had nothing to fear after that.
I could continue my efforts to
improve this, as yet, untilled
corner of the earth; and to civilize
those who dwelt in it, whose
minds had hitherto lain dormant.
"Well, sir, folk like us, who
live out of the world, are very
talkative. If you ask us a question,
there is no knowing where the
answer will come to an end; but
to cut it short--there were about
seven hundred souls in the valley
when I came to it, and now the
population numbers some two thousand.
I had gained the good opinion
of every one in that matter of
the last cretin; and when I had
constantly shown that I could
rule both mildly and firmly,
I became a local oracle. I did
everything that I could to win
their confidence; I did not ask
for it, nor did I appear to seek
it; but I tried to inspire every
one with the deepest respect
for my character, by the scrupulous
way in which I always fulfilled
my engagements, even when they
were of the most trifling kind.
When I had pledged myself to
care for the poor creature whose
death you have just witnessed,
I looked after him much more
effectually than any of his previous
guardians had done. He has been
fed and cared for as the adopted
child of the Commune. After a
time the dwellers in the valley
ended by understanding the service
which I had done them in spite
of themselves, but for all that,
they still cherish some traces
of that old superstition of theirs.
Far be it from me to blame them
for it; has not their cult of
the cretin often furnished me
with an argument when I have
tried to induce those who had
possession of their faculties
to help the unfortunate? But
here we are," said Benassis,
when after a moment's pause he
saw the roof of his own house.
Far from expecting the slightest
expression of praise or of thanks
from his listener, it appeared
from his way of telling the story
of this episode in his administrative
career, that he had been moved
by an unconscious desire to pour
out the thoughts that filled
his mind, after the manner of
folk that live very retired lives.
"I have taken the liberty of
putting my horse in your stable,
sir," said the commandant, "for
which in your goodness you will
perhaps pardon me when you learn
the object of my journey hither."
"Ah! yes, what is it?" asked
Benassis, appearing to shake
off his preoccupied mood, and
to recollect that his companion
was a stranger to him. The frankness
and unreserve of his nature had
led him to accept Genestas as
an acquaintance.
"I have heard of the almost
miraculous recovery of M. Gravier
of Grenoble, whom you received
into your house," was the soldier's
answer. "I have come to you,
hoping that you will give a like
attention to my case, although
I have not a similar claim to
your benevolence; and yet, I
am possibly not undeserving of
it. I am an old soldier, and
wounds of long standing give
me no peace. It will take you
at least a week to study my condition,
for the pain only comes back
at intervals, and----"
"Very good, sir," Benassis
broke in; "M. Gravier's room
is in readiness. Come in."
They went into the house, the
doctor flinging open the door
with an eagerness that Genestas
attributed to his pleasure at
receiving a boarder.
"Jacquotte!" Benassis called
out. "This gentleman will dine
with us."
"But would
it not be as well for us to
settle about the payment?"
"Payment for what?" inquired
the doctor.
"For my board.
You cannot keep me and my horse
as well, without----"
"If you are wealthy, you will
repay me amply," Benassis replied; "and
if you are not, I will take nothing
whatever."
"Nothing whatever seems to
me to be too dear," said Genestas. "But,
rich or poor, will ten francs
a day (not including your professional
services) be acceptable to you?"
"Nothing could be less acceptable
to me than payment for the pleasure
of entertaining a visitor," the
doctor answered, knitting his
brows; "and as to my advice,
you shall have it if I like you,
and not unless. Rich people shall
not have my time by paying for
it; it belongs exclusively to
the folk here in the valley.
I do not care about fame or fortune,
and I look for neither praise
or gratitude from my patients.
Any money which you may pay me
will go to the druggists in Grenoble,
to pay for the medicine required
by the poor of the neighborhood."
Any one who
had heard the words flung out,
abruptly, it is true,
but without a trace of bitterness
in them, would have said to himself
with Genestas, "Here is a man
made of good human clay."
"Well, then, I will pay you
ten francs a day, sir," the soldier
answered, returning to the charge
with wonted pertinacity, "and
you will do as you choose after
that. We shall understand each
other better, now that the question
is settled," he added, grasping
the doctor's hand with eager
cordiality. "In spite of my ten
francs, you shall see that I
am by no means a Tartar."
After this passage of arms,
in which Benassis showed not
the slightest sign of a wish
to appear generous or to pose
as a philanthropist, the supposed
invalid entered his doctor's
house. Everything within it was
in keeping with the ruinous state
of the gateway, and with the
clothing worn by its owner. There
was an utter disregard for everything
not essentially useful, which
was visible even in the smallest
trifles. Benassis took Genestas
through the kitchen, that being
the shortest way to the dining-room.
Had the kitchen
belonged to an inn, it could
not have been
more smoke- begrimed; and if
there was a sufficiency of cooking
pots within its precincts, this
lavish supply was Jacquotte's
doing--Jacquotte who had formerly
been the cure's housekeeper--Jacquotte
who always said "we," and who
ruled supreme over the doctor's
household. If, for instance,
there was a brightly polished
warming-pan above the mantelshelf,
it probably hung there because
Jacquotte liked to sleep warm
of a winter night, which led
her incidentally to warm her
master's sheets. He never took
a thought about anything; so
she was wont to say.
It was on account of a defect,
which any one else would have
found intolerable, that Benassis
had taken her into his service.
Jacquotte had a mind to rule
the house, and a woman who would
rule his house was the very person
that the doctor wanted. So Jacquotte
bought and sold, made alterations
about the place, set up and took
down, arranged and disarranged
everything at her own sweet will;
her master had never raised a
murmur. Over the yard, the stable,
the man-servant and the kitchen,
in fact, over the whole house
and garden and its master, Jacquotte's
sway was absolute. She looked
out fresh linen, saw to the washing,
and laid in provisions without
consulting anybody. She decided
everything that went on in the
house, and the date when the
pigs were to be killed. She scolded
the gardener, decreed the menu
at breakfast and dinner, and
went from cellar to garret, and
from garret to cellar, setting
everything to rights according
to her notions, without a word
of opposition of any sort or
description. Benassis had made
but two stipulations--he wished
to dine at six o'clock, and that
the household expenses should
not exceed a certain fixed sum
every month.
A woman whom every one obeys
in this way is always singing,
so Jacquotte laughed and warbled
on the staircase; she was always
humming something when she was
not singing, and singing when
she was not humming. Jacquotte
had a natural liking for cleanliness,
so she kept the house neat and
clean. If her tastes had been
different, it would have been
a sad thing for M. Benassis (so
she was wont to say), for the
poor man was so little particular
that you might feed him on cabbage
for partridges, and he would
not find it out; and if it were
not for her, he would very often
wear the same shirt for a week
on end. Jacquotte, however, was
an indefatigable folder of linen,
a born rubber and polisher of
furniture, and a passionate lover
of a perfectly religious and
ceremonial cleanliness of the
most scrupulous, the most radiant,
and most fragrant kind. A sworn
foe to dust, she swept and scoured
and washed without ceasing.
The condition of the gateway
caused her acute distress. On
the first day of every month
for the past ten years, she had
extorted from her master a promise
that he would replace the gate
with a new one, that the walls
of the house should be lime-washed,
and that everything should be
made quite straight and proper
about the place; but so far,
the master had not kept his word.
So it happened that whenever
she fell to lamenting over Benassis'
deeply-rooted carelessness about
things, she nearly always ended
solemnly in these words with
which all her praises of her
master usually terminated:
"You cannot
say that he is a fool, because
he works such
miracles, as you may say, in
the place; but, all the same,
he is a fool at times, such a
fool that you have to do everything
for him as if he were a child."
Jacquotte loved the house as
if it had belonged to her; and
when she had lived in it for
twenty-two years, had she not
some grounds for deluding herself
on that head? After the cure's
death the house had been for
sale; and Benassis, who had only
just come into the country, had
bought it as it stood, with the
walls about it and the ground
belonging to it, together with
the plate, wine, and furniture,
the old sundial, the poultry,
the horse, and the woman-servant.
Jacquotte was the very pattern
of a working housekeeper, with
her clumsy figure, and her bodice,
always of the same dark brown
print with large red spots on
it, which fitted her so tightly
that it looked as if the material
must give way if she moved at
all. Her colorless face, with
its double chin, looked out from
under a round plaited cap, which
made her look paler than she
really was. She talked incessantly,
and always in a loud voice--this
short, active woman, with the
plump, busy hands. Indeed, if
Jacquotte was silent for a moment,
and took a corner of her apron
so as to turn it up in a triangle,
it meant that a lengthy expostulation
was about to be delivered for
the benefit of master or man.
Jacquotte was beyond all doubt
the happiest cook in the kingdom;
for, that nothing might be lacking
in a measure of felicity as great
as may be known in this world
below, her vanity was continually
gratified--the townspeople regarded
her as an authority of an indefinite
kind, and ranked her somewhere
between the mayor and the park-keeper.
The master of the house found
nobody in the kitchen when he
entered it.
"Where the devil are they all
gone?" he asked. "Pardon me for
bringing you in this way," he
went on, turning to Genestas. "The
front entrance opens into the
garden, but I am so little accustomed
to receive visitors that--Jacquotte!" he
called in rather peremptory tones.
A woman's voice answered to
the name from the interior of
the house. A moment later Jacquotte,
assuming the offensive, called
in her turn to Benassis, who
forthwith went into the dining-room.
"Just like you, sir!" she exclaimed; "you
never do like anybody else. You
always ask people to dinner without
telling me beforehand, and you
think that everything is settled
as soon as you have called for
Jacquotte! You are not going
to have the gentleman sit in
the kitchen, are you? Is not
the salon to be unlocked and
a fire to be lighted? Nicolle
is there, and will see after
everything. Now take the gentleman
into the garden for a minute;
that will amuse him; if he likes
to look at pretty things, show
him the arbor of hornbeam trees
that the poor dear old gentleman
made. I shall have time then
to lay the cloth, and to get
everything ready, the dinner
and the salon too."
"Yes. But, Jacquotte," Benassis
went on, "the gentleman is going
to stay with us. Do not forget
to give a look round M. Gravier's
room, and see about the sheets
and things, and ----"
"Now you are not going to interfere
about the sheets, are you?" asked
Jacquotte. "If he is to sleep
here, I know what must be done
for him perfectly well. You have
not so much as set foot in M.
Gravier's room these ten months
past. There is nothing to see
there, the place is as clean
as a new pin. Then will the gentleman
make some stay here?" she continued
in a milder tone.
"Yes."
"How long will
he stay?"
"Faith, I do
not know: What does it matter
to you?"
"What does
it matter to me, sir? Oh! very
well, what does
it matter to me? Did any one
ever hear the like! And the provisions
and all that and----"
At any other time she would
have overwhelmed her master with
reproaches for his breach of
trust, but now she followed him
into the kitchen before the torrent
of words had come to an end.
She had guessed that there was
a prospect of a boarder, and
was eager to see Genestas, to
whom she made a very deferential
courtesy, while she scanned him
from head to foot. A thoughtful
and dejected expression gave
a harsh look to the soldier's
face. In the dialogue between
master and servant the latter
had appeared to him in the light
of a nonentity; and although
he regretted the fact, this revelation
had lessened the high opinion
that he had formed of the man
whose persistent efforts to save
the district from the horrors
of cretinism had won his admiration.
"I do not like the looks of
that fellow at all!" said Jacquotte
to herself.
"If you are not tired, sir," said
the doctor to his supposed patient, "we
will take a turn round the garden
before dinner."
"Willingly," answered
the commandant.
They went through the dining-room,
and reached the garden by way
of a sort of vestibule at the
foot of the staircase between
the salon and the dining-room.
Beyond a great glass door at
the farther end of the vestibule
lay a flight of stone steps which
adorned the garden side of the
house. The garden itself was
divided into four large squares
of equal size by two paths that
intersected each other in the
form of a cross, a box edging
along their sides. At the farther
end there was a thick, green
alley of hornbeam trees, which
had been the joy and pride of
the late owner. The soldier seated
himself on a worm-eaten bench,
and saw neither the trellis-work
nor the espaliers, nor the vegetables
of which Jacquotte took such
great care. She followed the
traditions of the epicurean churchman
to whom this valuable garden
owed its origin; but Benassis
himself regarded it with sufficient
indifference.
The commandant turned their
talk from the trivial matters
which had occupied them by saying
to the doctor:
"How comes
it, sir, that the population
of the valley has
been trebled in ten years? There
were seven hundred souls in it
when you came, and to-day you
say that they number more than
two thousand."
"You are the first person who
has put that question to me," the
doctor answered. "Though it has
been my aim to develop the capabilities
of this little corner of the
earth to the utmost, the constant
pressure of a busy life has not
left me time to think over the
way in which (like the mendicant
brother) I have made 'broth from
a flint' on a large scale. M.
Gravier himself, who is one of
several who have done a great
deal for us, and to whom I was
able to render a service by re-
establishing his health, has
never given a thought to the
theory, though he has been everywhere
over our mountain sides with
me, to see its practical results."
There was a moment's silence,
during which Benassis followed
his own thoughts, careless of
the keen glance by which his
guest friend tried to fathom
him.
"You ask how it came about,
my dear sir?" the doctor resumed. "It
came about quite naturally through
the working of the social law
by which the need and the means
of supplying it are correlated.
Herein lies the whole story.
Races who have no wants are always
poor. When I first came to live
here in this township, there
were about a hundred and thirty
peasant families in it, and some
two hundred hearths in the valley.
The local authorities were such
as might be expected in the prevailing
wretchedness of the population.
The mayor himself could not write,
and the deputy-mayor was a small
farmer, who lived beyond the
limits of the Commune. The justice
of the peace was a poor devil
who had nothing but his salary,
and who was forced to relinquish
the registration of births, marriages,
and deaths to his clerk, another
hapless wretch who was scarcely
able to understand his duties.
The old cure had died at the
age of seventy, and his curate,
a quite uneducated man, had just
succeeded to his position. These
people comprised all the intelligence
of the district over which they
ruled.
"Those who
dwelt amidst these lovely natural
surroundings groveled
in squalor and lived upon potatoes,
milk, butter, and cheese. The
only produce that brought in
any money was the cheese, which
most of them carried in small
baskets to Grenoble or its outskirts.
The richer or the more energetic
among them sowed buckwheat for
home consumption; sometimes they
raised a crop of barley or oats,
but wheat was unknown. The only
trader in the place was the mayor,
who owned a sawmill and bought
up timber at a low price to sell
again. In the absence of roads,
his tree trunks had to be transported
during the summer season; each
log was dragged along one at
a time, and with no small difficulty,
by means of a chain attached
to a halter about his horse's
neck, and an iron hook at the
farther end of the chain, which
was driven into the wood. Any
one who went to Grenoble, whether
on horseback or afoot, was obliged
to follow a track high up on
the mountain side, for the valley
was quite impassable. The pretty
road between this place and the
first village that you reach
as you come into the canton (the
way along which you must have
come) was nothing but a slough
at all seasons of the year.
"Political
events and revolutions had
never reached this inaccessible
country--it lay completely beyond
the limits of social stir and
change. Napoleon's name, and
his alone, had penetrated hither;
he is held in great veneration,
thanks to one or two old soldiers
who have returned to their native
homes, and who of evenings tell
marvelous tales about his adventures
and his armies for the benefit
of these simple folk. Their coming
back is, moreover, a puzzle that
no one can explain. Before I
came here, the young men who
went into the army all stayed
in it for good. This fact in
itself is a sufficient revelation
of the wretched condition of
the country. I need not give
you a detailed description of
it.
"This, then,
was the state of things when
I first came to
the canton, which has several
contented, well-tilled, and fairly
prosperous communes belonging
to it upon the other side of
the mountains. I will say nothing
about the hovels in the town;
they were neither more nor less
than stables, in which men and
animals were indiscriminately
huddled together. As there was
no inn in the place, I was obliged
to ask the curate for a bed,
he being in possession, for the
time being, of this house, then
offered for sale. Putting to
him question after question,
I came to have some slight knowledge
of the lamentable condition of
the country with the pleasant
climate, the fertile soil, and
the natural productiveness that
had impressed me so much.
"At that time,
sir, I was seeking to shape
a future for myself
that should be as little as possible
like the troubled life that had
left me weary; and one of those
thoughts came into my mind that
God gives us at times, to enable
us to take up our burdens and
bear them. I resolved to develop
all the resources of this country,
just as a tutor develops the
capacities of a child. Do not
think too much of my benevolence;
the pressing need that I felt
for turning my thoughts into
fresh channels entered too much
into my motives. I had determined
to give up the remainder of my
life to some difficult task.
A lifetime would be required
to bring about the needful changes
in a canton that Nature had made
so wealthy, and man so poor;
and I was tempted by the practical
difficulties that stood in the
way. As soon as I found that
I could secure the cure's house
and plenty of waste land at a
small cost, I solemnly devoted
myself to the calling of a country
surgeon-- the very last position
that a man aspires to take. I
determined to become the friend
of the poor, and to expect no
reward of any kind from them.
Oh! I did not indulge in any
illusions as to the nature of
the country people, nor as to
the hindrances that lie in the
way of every attempt to bring
about a better state of things
among men or their surroundings.
I have never made idyllic pictures
of my people; I have taken them
at their just worth--as poor
peasants, neither wholly good
nor wholly bad, whose constant
toil never allows them to indulge
in emotion, though they can feel
acutely at times. Above all things,
in fact, I clearly understood
that I should do nothing with
them except through an appeal
to their selfish interests, and
by schemes for their immediate
well-being. The peasants are
one and all the sons of St. Thomas,
the doubting apostle--they always
like words to be supported by
visible facts.
"Perhaps you will laugh at
my first start, sir," the doctor
went on after a pause. "I began
my difficult enterprise by introducing
the manufacture of baskets. The
poor folks used to buy the wicker
mats on which they drain their
cheeses, and all the baskets
needed for the insignificant
trade of the district. I suggested
to an intelligent young fellow
that he might take a lease on
a good-sized piece of land by
the side of the torrent. Every
year the floods deposited a rich
alluvial soil on this spot, where
there should be no difficulty
in growing osiers. I reckoned
out the quantity of wicker-work
of various kinds required from
time to time by the canton, and
went over to Grenoble, where
I found a young craftsman, a
clever worker, but without any
capital. When I had discovered
him, I soon made up my mind to
set him up in business here.
I undertook to advance the money
for the osiers required for his
work until my osier-farmer should
be in a position to supply him.
I induced him to sell his baskets
at rather lower prices than they
asked for them in Grenoble, while,
at the same time, they were better
made. He entered into my views
completely. The osier-beds and
the basket-making were two business
speculations whose results were
only appreciated after a lapse
of four years. Of course, you
know that osiers must be three
years old before they are fit
to cut.
"At the commencement
of operations, the basket-maker
was boarded
and lodged gratuitously. Before
very long he married a woman
from Saint Laurent du Pont, who
had a little money. Then he had
a house built, in a healthy and
very airy situation which I chose,
and my advice was followed as
to the internal arrangements.
Here was a triumph! I had created
a new industry, and had brought
a producer and several workers
into the town. I wonder if you
will regard my elations as childish?
"For the first
few days after my basket-maker
had set up his
business, I never went past his
shop but my heart beat somewhat
faster. And when I saw the newly-built
house, with the green-painted
shutters, the vine beside the
doorway, and the bench and bundles
of osiers before it; when I saw
a tidy, neatly-dressed woman
within it, nursing a plump, pink
and white baby among the workmen,
who were singing merrily and
busily plaiting their wicker-work
under the superintendence of
a man who but lately had looked
so pinched and pale, but now
had an atmosphere of prosperity
about him; when I saw all this,
I confess that I could not forego
the pleasure of turning basket-maker
for a moment, of going into the
shop to hear how things went
with them, and of giving myself
up to a feeling of content that
I cannot express in words, for
I had all their happiness as
well as my own to make me glad.
All my hopes became centered
on this house, where the man
dwelt who had been the first
to put a steady faith in me.
Like the basket- maker's wife,
clasping her first nursling to
her breast, did not I already
fondly cherish the hopes of the
future of this poor district?
"I had to do so many things
at once," he went on, "I came
into collision with other people's
notions, and met with violent
opposition, fomented by the ignorant
mayor to whose office I had succeeded,
and whose influence had dwindled
away as mine increased. I determined
to make him my deputy and a confederate
in my schemes of benevolence.
Yes, in the first place, I endeavored
to instil enlightened ideas into
the densest of all heads. Through
his self-love and cupidity I
gained a hold upon my man. During
six months as we dined together,
I took him deeply into my confidence
about my projected improvements.
Many people would think this
intimacy one of the most painful
inflictions in the course of
my task; but was he not a tool
of the most valuable kind? Woe
to him who despises his axe,
or flings it carelessly aside!
Would it not have been very inconsistent,
moreover, if I, who wished to
improve a district, had shrunk
back at the thought of improving
one man in it?
"A road was
our first and most pressing
need in bringing about
a better state of things. If
we could obtain permission from
the Municipal Council to make
a hard road, so as to put us
in communication with the highway
to Grenoble, the deputy-mayor
would be the first gainer by
it; for instead of dragging his
timber over rough tracks at a
great expense, a good road through
the canton would enable him to
transport it more easily, and
to engage in a traffic on a large
scale, in all kinds of wood,
that would bring in money--not
a miserable six hundred francs
a year, but handsome sums which
would mean a certain fortune
for him some day. Convinced at
last, he became my proselytizer.
"Through the
whole of one winter the ex-mayor
got into the way
of explaining to our citizens
that a good road for wheeled
traffic would be a source of
wealth to the whole country round,
for it would enable every one
to do a trade with Grenoble;
he held forth on this head at
the tavern while drinking with
his intimates. When the Municipal
Council had authorized the making
of the road, I went to the prefect
and obtained some money from
the charitable funds at the disposal
of the department, in order to
pay for the hire of carts, for
the Commune was unable to undertake
the transport of road metal for
lack of wheeled conveyances.
The ignorant began to murmur
against me, and to say that I
wanted to bring the days of the
corvee back again; this made
me anxious to finish this important
work, that they might speedily
appreciate its benefits. With
this end in view, every Sunday
during my first year of office
I drew the whole population of
the township, willing or unwilling,
up on to the mountain, where
I myself had traced out on a
hard bottom the road between
our village and the highway to
Grenoble. Materials for making
it were fortunately to be had
in plenty along the site.
"The tedious
enterprise called for a great
deal of patience
on my part. Some who were ignorant
of the law would refuse at times
to give their contribution of
labor; others again, who had
not bread to eat, really could
not afford to lose a day. Corn
had to be distributed among these
last, and the others must be
soothed with friendly words.
Yet by the time we had finished
two-thirds of the road, which
in all is about two leagues in
length, the people had so thoroughly
recognized its advantages that
the remaining third was accomplished
with a spirit that surprised
me. I added to the future wealth
of the Commune by planting a
double row of poplars along the
ditch on either side of the way.
The trees are already almost
worth a fortune, and they make
our road look like a king's highway.
It is almost always dry, by reason
of its position, and it was so
well made that the annual cost
of maintaining it is a bare two
hundred francs. I must show it
to you, for you cannot have seen
it; you must have come by the
picturesque way along the valley
bottom, a road which the people
decided to make for themselves
three years later, so as to connect
the various farms that were made
there at that time. In three
years ideas had rooted themselves
in the common sense of this township,
hitherto so lacking in intelligence
that a passing traveler would
perhaps have thought it hopeless
to attempt to instil them. But
to continue.
"The establishment
of the basket-maker was an
example set before these
poverty-stricken folk that they
might profit by it. And if the
road was to be a direct cause
of the future wealth of the canton,
all the primary forms of industry
must be stimulated, or these
two germs of a better state of
things would come to nothing.
My own work went forward by slow
degrees, as I helped my osier
farmer and wicker-worker and
saw to the making of the road.
"I had two
horses, and the timber merchant,
the deputy-mayor,
had three. He could only have
them shod whenever he went over
to Grenoble, so I induced a farrier
to take up his abode here, and
undertook to find him plenty
of work. On the same day I met
with a discharged soldier, who
had nothing but his pension of
a hundred francs, and was sufficiently
perplexed about his future. He
could read and write, so I engaged
him as secretary to the mayor;
as it happened, I was lucky enough
to find a wife for him, and his
dreams of happiness were fulfilled.
"Both of these
new families needed houses,
as well as the
basket-maker and twenty-two others
from the cretin village, soon
afterwards twelve more households
were established in the place.
The workers in each of these
families were at once producers
and consumers. They were masons,
carpenters, joiners, slaters,
blacksmiths, and glaziers; and
there was work enough to last
them for a long time, for had
they not their own houses to
build when they had finished
those for other people? Seventy,
in fact, were build in the Commune
during my second year of office.
One form of production demands
another. The additions to the
population of the township had
created fresh wants, hitherto
unknown among these dwellers
in poverty. The wants gave rise
to industries, and industries
to trade, and the gains of trade
raised the standard of comfort,
which in its turn gave them practical
ideas.
"The various
workmen wished to buy their
bread ready baked,
so we came to have a baker. Buckwheat
could no longer be the food of
a population which, awakened
from its lethargy, had become
essentially active. They lived
on buckwheat when I first came
among them, and I wished to effect
a change to rye, or a mixture
of rye and wheat in the first
instance, and finally to see
a loaf of white bread even in
the poorest household. Intellectual
progress, to my thinking, was
entirely dependent on a general
improvement in the conditions
of life. The presence of a butcher
in the district says as much
for its intelligence as for its
wealth. The worker feeds himself,
and a man who feeds himself thinks.
I had made a very careful study
of the soil, for I foresaw a
time when it would be necessary
to grow wheat. I was sure of
launching the place in a very
prosperous agricultural career,
and of doubling the population,
when once it had begun to work.
And now the time had come.
"M. Gravier,
of Grenoble, owned a great
deal of land in the commune,
which brought him in no rent,
but which might be turned into
corn- growing land. He is the
head of a department in the Prefecture,
as you know. It was a kindness
for his own countryside quite
as much as my earnest entreaties
that won him over. He had very
benevolently yielded to my importunities
on former occasions, and I succeeded
in making it clear to him that
in so doing he had wrought unconsciously
for his own benefit. After several
days spent in pleadings, consultation,
and talk, the matter was thrashed
out. I undertook to guarantee
him against all risks in the
undertaking, from which his wife,
a woman of no imagination, sought
to frighten him. He agreed to
build four farmhouses with a
hundred acres of land attached
to each, and promised to advance
the sums required to pay for
clearing the ground, for seeds,
ploughing gear, and cattle, and
for making occupation roads.
"I myself also
started two farms, quite as
much for the
sake of bringing my waste land
into cultivation as with a view
to giving an object-lesson in
the use of modern methods in
agriculture. In six weeks' time
the population of the town increased
to three hundred people. Homes
for several families must be
built on the six farms; there
was a vast quantity of land to
be broken up; the work called
for laborers. Wheelwrights, drainmakers,
journeymen, and laborers of all
kinds flocked in. The road to
Grenoble was covered with carts
that came and went. All the countryside
was astir. The circulation of
money had made every one anxious
to earn it, apathy had ceased,
the place had awakened.
"The story
of M. Gravier, one of those
who did so much for
this canton, can be concluded
in a few words. In spite of cautious
misgivings, not unnatural in
a man occupying an official position
in a provincial town, he advanced
more than forty thousand francs,
on the faith of my promises,
without knowing whether he should
ever see them back again. To-day
every one of his farms is let
for a thousand francs. His tenants
have thriven so well that each
of them owns at least a hundred
acres, three hundred sheep, twenty
cows, ten oxen, and five horses,
and employs more than twenty
persons.
"But to resume.
Our farms were ready by the
end of the fourth
year. Our wheat harvest seemed
miraculous to the people in the
district, heavy as the first
crop off the land ought to be.
How often during that year I
trembled for the success of my
work! Rain or drought might spoil
everything by diminishing the
belief in me that was already
felt. When we began to grow wheat,
it necessitated the mill that
you have seen, which brings me
in about five hundred francs
a year. So the peasants say that
'there is luck about me' (that
is the way they put it), and
believe in me as they believe
in their relics. These new undertakings--the
farms, the mill, the plantations,
and the roads-- have given employment
to all the various kinds of workers
whom I had called in. Although
the buildings fully represent
the value of the sixty thousand
francs of capital, which we sunk
in the district, the outlay was
more than returned to us by the
profits on the sales which the
consumers occasioned. I never
ceased my efforts to put vigor
into this industrial life which
was just beginning. A nurseryman
took my advice and came to settle
in the place, and I preached
wholesome doctrine to the poor
concerning the planting of fruit
trees, in order that some day
they should obtain a monopoly
of the sale of fruit in Grenoble.
" 'You take
your cheeses there as it is,'
I used to tell them,
'why not take poultry, eggs,
vegetables, game, hay and straw,
and so forth?' All my counsels
were a source of fortune; it
was a question of who should
follow them first. A number of
little businesses were started;
they went on at first but slowly,
but from day to day their progress
became more rapid; and now sixty
carts full of the various products
of the district set out every
Monday for Grenoble, and there
is more buckwheat grown for poultry
food than they used to sow for
human consumption. The trade
in timber grew to be so considerable
that it was subdivided, and since
the fourth year of our industrial
era, we have had dealers in firewood,
squared timber, planks, bark,
and later on, in charcoal. In
the end four new sawmills were
set up, to turn out the planks
and beams of timber.
"When the ex-mayor
had acquired a few business
notions, he felt
the necessity of learning to
read and write. He compared the
prices that were asked for wood
in various neighborhoods, and
found such differences in his
favor, that he secured new customers
in one place after another, and
now a third of the trade in the
department passes through his
hands. There has been such a
sudden increase in our traffic
that we find constant work for
three wagon-builders and two
harness-makers, each of them
employing three hands at least.
Lastly, the quantity of ironware
that we use is so large that
an agricultural implement and
tool-maker has removed into the
town, and is very well satisfied
with the result.
"The desire
of gain develops a spirit of
ambition, which has
ever since impelled our workers
to extend their field from the
township to the canton, and from
the canton to the department,
so as to increase their profits
by increasing their sales. I
had only to say a word to point
out new openings to them, and
their own sense did the rest.
Four years had been sufficient
to change the face of the township.
When I had come through it first,
I did not catch the slightest
sound; but in less than five
years from that time, there was
life and bustle everywhere. The
gay songs, the shrill or murmuring
sounds made by the tools in the
workshops rang pleasantly in
my ears. I watched the comings
and goings of a busy population
congregated in the clean and
wholesome new town, where plenty
of trees had been planted. Every
one of them seemed conscious
of a happy lot, every face shone
with the content that comes through
a life of useful toil.
"I look upon these five years
as the first epoch of prosperity
in the history of our town," the
doctor went on after a pause. "During
that time I have prepared the
ground and sowed the seed in
men's minds as well as in the
land. Henceforward industrial
progress could not be stayed,
the population was bound to go
forward. A second epoch was about
to begin. This little world very
soon desired to be better clad.
A shoemaker came, and with him
a haberdasher, a tailor, and
a hatter. This dawn of luxury
brought us a butcher and a grocer,
and a midwife, who became very
necessary to me, for I lost a
great deal of time over maternity
cases. The stubbed wastes yielded
excellent harvests, and the superior
quality of our agricultural produce
was maintained through the increased
supply of manure. My enterprise
could now develop itself; everything
followed on quite naturally.
"When the houses
had been rendered wholesome,
and their inmates
gradually persuaded to feed and
clothe themselves better, I wanted
the dumb animals to feel the
benefit of these beginnings of
civilization. All the excellence
of cattle, whether as a race
or as individuals, and, in consequence,
the quality of the milk and meat,
depends upon the care that is
expended upon them. I took the
sanitation of cowsheds for the
text of my sermons. I showed
them how an animal that is properly
housed and well cared for is
more profitable than a lean neglected
beast, and the comparison wrought
a gradual change for the better
in the lot of the cattle in the
Commune. Not one of them was
ill treated. The cows and oxen
were rubbed down as in Switzerland
and Auvergne. Sheep-folds, stables,
byres, dairies, and barns were
rebuilt after the pattern of
the roomy, well-ventilated, and
consequently healthy steadings
that M. Gravier and I had constructed.
Our tenants became my apostles.
They made rapid converts of unbelievers,
demonstrating the soundness of
my doctrines by their prompt
results. I lent money to those
who needed it, giving the preference
to hardworking poor people, because
they served as an example. Any
unsound or sickly cattle or beasts
of poor quality were quickly
disposed of by my advice, and
replaced by fine specimens. In
this way our dairy produce came,
in time, to command higher prices
in the market than that sent
by other communes. We had splendid
herds, and as a consequence,
capital leather.
"This step
forward was of great importance,
and in this wise.
In rural economy nothing can
be regarded as trifling. Our
hides used to fetch scarcely
anything, and the leather we
made was of little value, but
when once our leather and hides
were improved, tanneries were
easily established along the
waterside. We became tanners,
and business rapidly increased.
"Wine, properly
speaking, had been hitherto
unknown; a thin,
sour beverage like verjuice had
been their only drink, but now
wineshops were established to
supply a natural demand. The
oldest tavern was enlarged and
transformed into an inn, which
furnished mules to pilgrims to
the Grand Chartreuse who began
to come our way, and after two
years there was just enough business
for two innkeepers.
"The justice
of the peace died just as our
second prosperous
epoch began, and luckily for
us, his successor had formerly
been a notary in Grenoble who
had lost most of his fortune
by a bad speculation, though
enough of it yet remained to
cause him to be looked upon in
the village as a wealthy man.
It was M. Gravier who induced
him to settle among us. He built
himself a comfortable house and
helped me by uniting his efforts
to mine. He also laid out a farm,
and broke up and cleaned some
of the waste land, and at this
moment he has three chalets up
above on the mountain side. He
has a large family. He dismissed
the old registrar and the clerk,
and in their place installed
better-educated men, who worked
far harder, moreover, than their
predecessors had done. One of
the heads of these two new households
started a distillery of potato-spirit,
and the other was a wool-washer;
each combined these occupations
with his official work, and in
this way two valuable industries
were created among us.
"Now that the
Commune had some revenues of
its own, no opposition
was raised in any quarter when
they were spent on building a
town-hall, with a free school
for elementary education in the
building and accommodation for
a teacher. For this important
post I had selected a poor priest
who had taken the oath, and had
therefore been cast out by the
department, and who at last found
a refuge among us for his old
age. The schoolmistress is a
very worthy woman who had lost
all that she had, and was in
great distress. We made up a
nice little sum for her, and
she has just opened a boarding-school
for girls to which the wealthy
farmers hereabouts are beginning
to send their daughters.
"If so far,
sir, I have been entitled to
tell you the story
of my own doings as the chronicle
of this little spot of earth,
I have reached the point where
M. Janvier, the new parson, began
to divide the work of regeneration
with me. He has been a second
Fenelon, unknown beyond the narrow
limits of a country parish, and
by some secret of his own has
infused a spirit of brotherliness
and of charity among these folk
that has made them almost like
one large family. M. Dufau, the
justice of the peace, was a late
comer, but he in an equal degree
deserves the gratitude of the
people here.
"I will put the whole position
before you in figures that will
make it clearer than any words
of mine. At this moment the Commune
owns two hundred acres of woodland,
and a hundred and sixty acres
of meadow. Without running up
the rates, we give a hundred
crowns to supplement the cure's
stipend, we pay two hundred francs
to the rural policeman, and as
much again to the schoolmaster
and schoolmistress. The maintenance
of the roads costs us five hundred
francs, while necessary repairs
to the townhall, the parsonage,
and the church, with some few
other expenses, also amount to
a similar sum. In fifteen years'
time there will be a thousand
francs worth of wood to fell
for every hundred francs' worth
cut now, and the taxes will not
cost the inhabitants a penny.
This Commune is bound to become
one of the richest in France.
But perhaps I am taxing your
patience, sir?" said Benassis,
suddenly discovering that his
companion wore such a pensive
expression that it seemed as
though his attention was wandering.
"No! no!" answered
the commandant.
"Our trade, handicrafts, and
agriculture so far only supplied
the needs of the district," the
doctor went on. "At a certain
point our prosperity came to
a standstill. I wanted a post-office,
and sellers of tobacco, stationery,
powder and shot. The receiver
of taxes had hitherto preferred
to live elsewhere, but now I
succeeded in persuading him to
take up his abode in the town,
holding out as inducements the
pleasantness of the place and
of the new society. As time and
place permitted I had succeeded
in producing a supply of everything
for which I had first created
a need, in attracting families
of hardworking people into the
district, and in implanting a
desire to own land in them all.
So by degrees, as they saved
a little money, the waste land
began to be broken up; spade
husbandry and small holdings
increased; so did the value of
property on the mountain.
"Those struggling
folk who, when I knew them
first, used
to walk over to Grenoble carrying
their few cheeses for sale, now
made the journey comfortably
in a cart, and took fruit, eggs,
chickens and turkeys, and before
they were aware of it, everyone
was a little richer. Even those
who came off worst had a garden
at any rate, and grew early vegetables
and fruit. It became the children's
work to watch the cattle in the
fields, and at last it was found
to be a waste of time to bake
bread at home. Here were signs
of prosperity!
"But if this
place was to be a permanent
forge of industry,
fuel must be constantly added
to the fire. The town had not
as yet a renascent industry which
could maintain this commercial
process, an industry which should
make great transactions, a warehouse,
and a market necessary. It is
not enough that a country should
lose none of the money that forms
its capital; you will not increase
its prosperity by more or less
ingenious devices for causing
this amount to circulate, by
means of production and consumption,
through the greatest possible
number of hands. That is not
where your problem lies. When
a country is fully developed
and its production keeps pace
with its consumption, if private
wealth is to increase as well
as the wealth of the community
at large, there must be exchanges
with other communities, which
will keep a balance on the right
side of the balance-sheet. This
thought has let states with a
limited territorial basis like
Tyre, Carthage, Venice, Holland,
and England, for instance, to
secure the carrying trade. I
cast about for some such notion
as this to apply to our little
world, so as to inaugurate a
third commercial epoch. Our town
is so much like any other, that
our prosperity was scarcely visible
to a passing stranger; it was
only for me that it was astonishing.
The folk had come together by
degrees; they themselves were
a part of the change, and could
not judge of its effects as a
whole.
"Seven years
had gone by when I met with
two strangers, the
real benefactors of the place,
which perhaps some day they will
transform into a large town.
One of them is a Tyrolese, an
exceedingly clever fellow, who
makes rough shoes for country
people's wear, and boots for
people of fashion in Grenoble
as no one can make them, not
even in Paris itself. He was
a poor strolling musician, who,
singing and working, had made
his way through Italy; one of
those busy Germans who fashion
the tools of their own work,
and make the instrument that
they play upon. When he came
to the town he asked if any one
wanted a pair of shoes. They
sent him to me, and I gave him
an order for two pairs of boots,
for which he made his own lasts.
The foreigner's skill surprised
me. He gave accurate and consistent
answers to the questions I put,
and his face and manner confirmed
the good opinion I had formed
of him. I suggested that he should
settle in the place, undertaking
to assist him in business in
every way that I could; in fact,
I put a fairly large sum of money
at his disposal. He accepted
my offer. I had my own ideas
in this. The quality of our leather
had improved; and why should
we not use it ourselves, and
before very long make our own
shoes at moderate prices?
"It was the
basket-maker's business over
again on a larger
scale. Chance had put an exceedingly
clever hard-working man in my
way, and he must be retained
so that a steady and profitable
trade might be given to the place.
There is a constant demand for
foot-gear, and a very slight
difference in price is felt at
once by the purchaser.
"This was my
reasoning, sir, and fortunately
events have justified
it. At this time we have five
tanyards, each of which has its
bark-mill. They take all the
hides produced in the department
itself, and even draw part of
their supply from Provence; and
yet the Tyrolese uses more leather
than they can produce, and has
forty work-people in his employ!
"I happened
on the other man after a fashion
no whit less
strange, but you might find the
story tedious. He is just an
ordinary peasant, who discovered
a cheaper way of making the great
broad-brimmed hats that are worn
in this part of the world. He
sells them in other cantons,
and even sends them into Switzerland
and Savoy. So long as the quality
and the low prices can be maintained,
here are two inexhaustible sources
of wealth for the canton, which
suggested to my mind the idea
of establishing three fairs in
the year. The prefect, amazed
at our industrial progress, lent
his aid in obtaining the royal
ordinance which authorized them,
and last year we held our three
fairs. They are known as far
as Savoy as the Shoe Fair and
the Hat Fair.
"The head clerk
of a notary in Grenoble heard
of these changes.
He was poor, but he was a well-educated,
hardworking young fellow, and
Mlle. Gravier was engaged to
be married to him. He went to
Paris to ask for an authorization
to establish himself here as
a notary, and his request was
granted. As he had not to pay
for his appointment, he could
afford to build a house in the
market square of the new town,
opposite the house of the justice
of the peace. We have a market
once a week, and a considerable
amount of business is transacted
in corn and cattle.
"Next year
a druggist surely ought to
come among us, and next
we want a clockmaker, a furniture
dealer, and a bookseller; and
so, by degrees, we shall have
all the desirable luxuries of
life. Who knows but that at last
we shall have a number of substantial
houses, and give ourselves all
the airs of a small city? Education
has made such strides that there
has never been any opposition
made at the council-board when
I proposed that we should restore
our church and build a parsonage;
nor when I brought forward a
plan for laying out a fine open
space, planted with trees, where
the fairs could be held, and
a further scheme for a survey
of the township, so that its
future streets should be wholesome,
spacious, and wisely planned.
"This is how
we came to have nineteen hundred
hearths in the
place of a hundred and thirty-seven;
three thousand head of cattle
instead of eight hundred; and
for a population of seven hundred,
no less than two thousand persons
are living in the township, or
three thousand, if the people
down the valley are included.
There are twelve houses belonging
to wealthy people in the Commune,
there are a hundred well-to-do
families, and two hundred more
which are thriving. The rest
have their own exertions to look
to. Every one knows how to read
and write, and we subscribe to
seventeen different newspapers.
"We have poor
people still among us--there
are far too many
of them, in fact; but we have
no beggars, and there is work
enough for all. I have so many
patients that my daily round
taxes the powers of two horses.
I can go anywhere for five miles
round at any hour without fear;
for if any one was minded to
fire a shot at me, his life would
not be worth ten minutes' purchase.
The undemonstrative affection
of the people is my sole gain
from all these changes, except
the radiant 'Good-day, M. Benassis,'
that every one gives me as I
pass. You will understand, of
course, that the wealth incidentally
acquired through my model farms
has only been a means and not
an end."
"If every one followed your
example in other places, sir,
France would be great indeed,
and might laugh at the rest of
Europe!" cried Genestas enthusiastically.
"But I have kept you out here
for half an hour," said Benassis; "it
is growing dark, let us go in
to dinner."
The doctor's house, on the
side facing the garden, consists
of a ground floor and a single
story, with a row of five windows
in each, dormer windows also
project from the tiled mansard-roof.
The green- painted shutters are
in startling contrast with the
gray tones of the walls. A vine
wanders along the whole side
of the house, a pleasant strip
of green like a frieze, between
the two stories. A few struggling
Bengal roses make shift to live
as best they may, half drowned
at times by the drippings from
the gutterless eaves.
As you enter the large vestibule,
the salon lies to your right;
it contains four windows, two
of which look into the yard,
and two into the garden. Ceiling
and wainscot are paneled, and
the walls are hung with seventeenth
century tapestry--pathetic evidence
that the room had been the object
of the late owner's aspiration,
and that he had lavished all
that he could spare upon it.
The great roomy armchairs, covered
with brocaded damask; the old
fashioned, gilded candle-sconces
above the chimney-piece, and
the window curtains with their
heavy tassels, showed that the
cure had been a wealthy man.
Benassis had made some additions
to this furniture, which was
not without a character of its
own. He had placed two smaller
tables, decorated with carved
wooden garlands, between the
windows on opposite sides of
the room, and had put a clock,
in a case of tortoise shell,
inlaid with copper, upon the
mantel-shelf. The doctor seldom
occupied the salon; its atmosphere
was damp and close, like that
of a room that is always kept
shut. Memories of the dead cure
still lingered about it; the
peculiar scent of his tobacco
seemed to pervade the corner
by the hearth where he had been
wont to sit. The two great easy-chairs
were symmetrically arranged on
either side of the fire, which
had not been lighted since the
time of M. Gravier's visit; the
bright flames from the pine logs
lighted the room.
"The evenings are chilly even
now," said Benassis; "it is pleasant
to see a fire."
Genestas was meditating. He
was beginning to understand the
doctor's indifference to his
every-day surroundings.
"It is surprising
to me, sir, that you, who possess
real public
spirit, should have made no effort
to enlighten the Government,
after accomplishing so much."
Benassis began to laugh, but
without bitterness; he said,
rather sadly:
"You mean that
I should draw up some sort
of memorial on various
ways of civilizing France? You
are not the first to suggest
it, sir; M. Gravier has forestalled
you. Unluckily, Governments cannot
be enlightened, and a Government
which regards itself as a diffuser
of light is the least open to
enlightenment. What we have done
for our canton, every mayor ought,
of course, to do for his; the
magistrate should work for his
town, the sub-prefect for his
district, the prefect for the
department, and the minister
for France, each acting in his
own sphere of interest. For the
few miles of country road that
I persuaded our people to make,
another would succeed in constructing
a canal or a highway; and for
my encouragement of the peasants'
trade in hats, a minister would
emancipate France from the industrial
yoke of the foreigner by encouraging
the manufacture of clocks in
different places, by helping
to bring to perfection our iron
and steel, our tools and appliances,
or by bringing silk or dyer's
woad into cultivation.
"In commerce,
'encouragement,' does not mean
protection. A really
wise policy should aim at making
a country independent of foreign
supply, but this should be effected
without resorting to the pitiful
shifts of customs duties and
prohibitions. Industries must
work out their own salvation,
competition is the life of trade.
A protected industry goes to
sleep, and monopoly, like the
protective tariff, kills it outright.
The country upon which all others
depend for their supplies will
be the land which will promulgate
free trade, for it will be conscious
of its power to produce its manufactures
at prices lower than those of
any of its competitors. France
is in a better position to attain
this end than England, for France
alone possesses an amount of
territory sufficiently extensive
to maintain a supply of agricultural
produce at prices that will enable
the worker to live on low wages;
the Administration should keep
this end in view, for therein
lies the whole modern question.
I have not devoted my life to
this study, dear sir; I found
my work by accident, and late
in the day. Such simple things
as these are too slight, moreover,
to build into a system; there
is nothing wonderful about them,
they do not lend themselves to
theories; it is their misfortune
to be merely practically useful.
And then work cannot be done
quickly. The man who means to
succeed in these ways must daily
look to find within himself the
stock of courage needed for the
day, a courage in reality of
the rarest kind, though it does
not seem hard to practise, and
meets with little recognition--the
courage of the schoolmaster,
who must say the same things
over and over again. We all honor
the man who has shed his blood
on the battlefield, as you have
done; but we ridicule this other
whose life- fire is slowly consumed
in repeating the same words to
children of the same age. There
is no attraction for any of us
in obscure well-doing. We know
nothing of the civic virtue that
led the great men of ancient
times to serve their country
in the lowest rank whenever they
did not command. Our age is afflicted
with a disease that makes each
of us seek to rise above his
fellows, and there are more saints
than shrines among us.
"This is how
it has come to pass. The monarchy
fell, and
we lost Honor, Christian Virtue
faded with the religion of our
forefathers, and our own ineffectual
attempts at government have destroyed
Patriotism. Ideas can never utterly
perish, so these beliefs linger
on in our midst, but they do
not influence the great mass
of the people, and Society has
no support but Egoism. Every
individual believes in himself.
For us the future means egoism;
further than that we cannot see.
The great man who shall save
us from the shipwreck which is
imminent will no doubt avail
himself of individualism when
he makes a nation of us once
more; but until this regeneration
comes, we bide our time in a
materialistic and utilitarian
age. Utilitarianism--to this
conclusion we have come. We are
all rated, not at our just worth,
but according to our social importance.
People will scarcely look at
an energetic man if he is in
shirt-sleeves. The Government
itself is pervaded by this idea.
A minister sends a paltry medal
to a sailor who has saved a dozen
lives at the risk of his own,
while the deputy who sells his
vote to those in power receives
the Cross of the Legion of Honor.
"Woe to a people
made up of such men as these!
For nations,
like men, owe all the strength
and vitality that is in them
to noble thoughts and aspirations,
and men's feelings shape their
faith. But when self- interest
has taken the place of faith
and each one of us thinks only
of himself, and believes in himself
alone, how can you expect to
find among us much of that civil
courage whose very essence consists
in self-renunciation? The same
principle underlies both military
and civil courage, although you
soldiers are called upon to yield
your lives up once and for all,
while ours are given slowly drop
by drop, and the battle is the
same for both, although it takes
different forms.
"The man who
would fain civilize the lowliest
spot on earth needs
something besides wealth for
the task. Knowledge is still
more necessary; and knowledge,
and patriotism, and integrity
are worthless unless they are
accompanied by a firm determination
on his part to set his own personal
interests completely aside, and
to devote himself to a social
idea. France, no doubt, possesses
more than one well-educated man
and more than one patriot in
every commune; but I am fully
persuaded that not every canton
can produce a man who to these
valuable qualifications unites
the unflagging will and pertinacity
with which a blacksmith hammers
out iron.
"The Destroyer
and the Builder are two manifestations
of Will;
the one prepares the way, and
the other accomplishes the work;
the first appears in the guise
of a spirit of evil, and the
second seems like the spirit
of good. Glory falls to the Destroyer,
while the Builder is forgotten;
for evil makes a noise in the
world that rouses little souls
to admiration, while good deeds
are slow to make themselves heard.
Self-love leads us to prefer
the more conspicuous part. If
it should happen that any public
work is undertaken without an
interested motive, it will only
be by accident, until the day
when education has changed our
ways of regarding things in France.
"Yet suppose
that this change had come to
pass, and that all
of us were public-spirited citizens;
in spite of our comfortable lives
among trivialities, should we
not be in a fair way to become
the most wearied, wearisome,
and unfortunate race of philistines
under the sun?
"I am not at
the helm of State, the decision
of great questions
of this kind is not within my
province; but, setting these
considerations aside, there are
other difficulties in the way
of laying down hard and fast
rules as to government. In the
matter of civilization, everything
is relative. Ideas that suit
one country admirably are fatal
in another--men's minds are as
various as the soils of the globe.
If we have so often been ill
governed, it is because a faculty
for government, like taste, is
the outcome of a very rare and
lofty attitude of mind. The qualifications
for the work are found in a natural
bent of the soul rather than
in the possession of scientific
formulae. No one need fear, however,
to call himself a statesman,
for his actions and motives cannot
be justly estimated; his real
judges are far away, and the
results of his deeds are even
more remote. We have a great
respect here in France for men
of ideas--a keen intellect exerts
a great attraction for us; but
ideas are of little value where
a resolute will is the one thing
needful. Administration, as a
matter of fact, does not consist
in forcing more or less wise
methods and ideas upon the great
mass of the nation, but in giving
to the ideas, good or bad, that
they already possess a practical
turn which will make them conduce
to the general welfare of the
State. If old- established prejudices
and customs bring a country into
a bad way, the people will renounce
their errors of their own accord.
Are not losses the result of
economical errors of every kind?
And is it not, therefore, to
every one's interest to rectify
them in the long run?
"Luckily I
found a tabula rasa in this
district. They have followed
my advice, and the land is well
cultivated; but there had been
no previous errors in agriculture,
and the soil was good to begin
with, so that it has been easy
to introduce the five-ply shift,
artificial grasses, and potatoes.
My methods did not clash with
people's prejudices. The faultily
constructed plowshares in use
in some parts of France were
unknown here, the hoe sufficed
for the little field work that
they did. Our wheelwright extolled
my wheeled plows because he wished
to increase his own business,
so I secured an ally in him;
but in this matter, as in all
others, I sought to make the
good of one conduce to the good
of all.
"Then I turned
my attention to another kind
of production,
that should increase the welfare
rather than the wealth of these
poor folk. I have brought nothing
from without into this district;
I have simply encouraged the
people to seek beyond its limits
for a market for their produce,
a measure that could not but
increase their prosperity in
a way that they felt immediately.
They had no idea of the fact,
but they themselves were my apostles,
and their works preached my doctrines.
Something else must also be borne
in mind. We are barely five leagues
from Grenoble. There is plenty
of demand in a large city for
produce of all kinds, but not
every commune is situated at
the gates of a city. In every
similar undertaking the nature,
situation, and resources of the
country must be taken into consideration,
and a careful study must be made
of the soil, of the people themselves,
and of many other things; and
no one should expect to have
vines grow in Normandy. So no
tasks can be more various than
those of government, and its
general principles must be few
in number. The law is uniform,
but not so the land and the minds
and customs of those who dwell
in it; and the administration
of the law is the art of carrying
it out in such a manner that
no injury is done to people's
interests. Every place must be
considered separately.
"On the other
side of the mountain at the
foot of which our deserted
village lies, they find it impossible
to use wheeled plows, because
the soil is not deep enough.
Now if the mayor of the commune
were to take it into his head
to follow in our footsteps, he
would be the ruin of his neighborhood.
I advised him to plant vineyards;
they had a capital vintage last
year in the little district,
and their wine is exchanged for
our corn.
"Then, lastly,
it must be remembered that
my words carried a certain
weight with the people to whom
I preached, and that we were
continually brought into close
contact. I cured my peasants'
complaints; an easy task, for
a nourishing diet is, as a rule,
all that is needed to restore
them to health and strength.
Either through thrift, or through
sheer poverty, the country people
starve themselves; any illness
among them is caused in this
way, and as a rule they enjoy
very fair health.
"When I first
decided to devote myself to
this life of obscure
renunciation, I was in doubt
for a long while whether to become
a cure, a country doctor, or
a justice of the peace. It is
not without reason that people
speak collectively of the priest,
the lawyer, and the doctor as
'men of the black robe'--so the
saying goes. They represent the
three principal elements necessary
to the existence of society--conscience,
property, and health. At one
time the first, and at a later
period the second, was all-important
in the State. Our predecessors
on this earth thought, perhaps
not without reason, that the
priest, who prescribed what men
should think, ought to be paramount;
so the priest was king, pontiff,
and judge in one, for in those
days belief and faith were everything.
All this has been changed in
our day; and we must even take
our epoch as we find it. But
I, for one, believe that the
progress of civilization and
the welfare of the people depend
on these three men. They are
the three powers who bring home
to the people's minds the ways
in which facts, interests, and
principles affect them. They
themselves are three great results
produced in the midst of the
nation by the operation of events,
by the ownership of property,
and by the growth of ideas. Time
goes on and brings changes to
pass, property increases or diminishes
in men's hands, all the various
readjustments have to be duly
regulated, and in this way principles
of social order are established.
If civilization is to spread
itself, and production is to
be increased, the people must
be made to understand the way
in which the interests of the
individual harmonize with national
interests which resolve themselves
into facts, interests, and principles.
As these three professions are
bound to deal with these issues
of human life, it seemed to me
that they must be the most powerful
civilizing agencies of our time.
They alone afford to a man of
wealth the opportunity of mitigating
the fate of the poor, with whom
they daily bring him in contact.
"The peasant
is always more willing to listen
to the man
who lays down rules for saving
him from bodily ills than to
the priest who exhorts him to
save his soul. The first speaker
can talk of this earth, the scene
of the peasant's labors, while
the priest is bound to talk to
him of heaven, with which, unfortunately,
the peasant nowadays concerns
himself very little indeed; I
say unfortunately, because the
doctrine of a future life is
not only a consolation, but a
means by which men may be governed.
Is not religion the one power
that sanctions social laws? We
have but lately vindicated the
existence of God. In the absence
of a religion, the Government
was driven to invent the Terror,
in order to carry its laws into
effect; but the terror was the
fear of man, and it has passed
away.
"When a peasant
is ill, when he is forced to
lie on his pallet,
and while he is recovering, he
cannot help himself, he is forced
to listen to logical reasoning,
which he can understand quite
well if it is put clearly before
him. This thought made a doctor
of me. My calculations for the
peasants were made along with
them. I never gave advice unless
I was quite sure of the results,
and in this way compelled them
to admit the wisdom of my views.
The people require infallibility.
Infallibility was the making
of Napoleon; he would have been
a god if he had not filled the
world with the sound of his fall
at Waterloo. If Mahomet founded
a permanent religion after conquering
the third part of the globe,
it was by dint of concealing
his deathbed from the crowd.
The same rules hold good for
the great conqueror and for the
provincial mayor, and a nation
or a commune is much the same
sort of crowd; indeed, the great
multitude of mankind is the same
everywhere.
"I have been
exceedingly firm with those
whom I have helped
with money; if I had not been
inflexible on this point, they
all would have laughed at me.
Peasants, no less than worldlings,
end by despising the man that
they can deceive. He has been
cheated? Clearly, then, he must
have been weak; and it is might
alone that governs the world.
I have never charged a penny
for my professional advice, except
to those who were evidently rich
people; but I have not allowed
the value of my services to be
overlooked at all, and I always
make them pay for medicine unless
the patient is exceedingly poor.
If my peasants do not pay me
in money, they are quite aware
that they are in my debt; sometimes
they satisfy their consciences
by bringing oats for my horses,
or corn, when it is cheap. But
if the miller were to send me
some eels as a return for my
advice, I should tell him that
he is too generous for such a
small matter. My politeness bears
fruit. In the winter I shall
have some sacks of flour for
the poor. Ah! sir, they have
kind hearts, these people, if
one does not slight them, and
to- day I think more good and
less evil of them than I did
formerly."
"What a deal of trouble you
have taken!" said Genestas.
"Not at all," answered Benassis. "It
was no more trouble to say something
useful than to chatter about
trifles; and whether I chatted
or joked, the talk always turned
on them and their concerns wherever
I went. They would not listen
to me at first. I had to overcome
their dislikes; I belonged to
the middle classes--that is to
say, I was a natural enemy. I
found the struggle amusing. An
easy or an uneasy conscience--that
is all the difference that lies
between doing well or ill; the
trouble is the same in either
case. If scoundrels would but
behave themselves properly, they
might be millionaires instead
of being hanged. That is all."
"The dinner is growing cold,
sir!" cried Jacquotte, in the
doorway.
Genestas caught the doctor's
arm.
"I have only one comment to
offer on what I have just heard," he
remarked. "I am not acquainted
with any account of the wars
of Mahomet, so that I can form
no opinions as to his military
talents; but if you had only
watched the Emperor's tactics
during the campaign in France,
you might well have taken him
for a god; and if he was beaten
on the field of Waterloo, it
was because he was more than
mortal, it was because the earth
found his weight too heavy to
bear, and sprang from under his
feet! On every other subject
I entirely agree with you, and
tonnerre de Dieu! whoever hatched
you did a good day's work."
"Come," exclaimed Benassis
with a smile, "let us sit down
to dinner."
The walls of the dining-room
were paneled from floor to ceiling,
and painted gray. The furniture
consisted of a few straw-bottomed
chairs, a sideboard, some cupboards,
a stove, and the late owner's
celebrated clock; there were
white curtains in the window,
and a white cloth on the table,
about which there was no sign
of luxury. The dinner service
was of plain white earthenware;
the soup, made after the traditions
of the late cure, was the most
concentrated kind of broth that
was ever set to simmer by any
mortal cook. The doctor and his
guest had scarcely finished it
when a man rushed into the kitchen,
and in spite of Jacquotte, suddenly
invaded the dining-room.
"Well, what is it?" asked
the doctor.
"It is this,
sir. The mistress, our Mme.
Vigneau, has turned
as white as white can be, so
that we are frightened about
her."
"Oh, well, then," Benassis
said cheerfully, "I must leave
the table," and he rose to go.
In spite of the doctor's entreaties,
Genestas flung down his table-
napkin, and swore in a soldierly
fashion that he would not finish
his dinner without his host.
He returned indeed to the salon;
and as he warmed himself by the
fire, he thought over the troubles
that no man may escape, the troubles
that are found in every lot that
it falls to man to endure here
upon earth.
Benassis soon came back, and
the two future friends sat down
again.
"Taboureau has just come up
to speak to you," said Jacquotte
to her master, as she brought
in the dishes that she had kept
hot for them.
"Who can be ill at his place?" asked
the doctor.
"No one is
ill, sir. I think from what
he said that it is
some matter of his own that he
wants to ask you about; he is
coming back again."
"Very good. This Taboureau," Benassis
went on, addressing Genestas, "is
for me a whole philosophical
treatise; take a good look at
him when he comes, he is sure
to amuse you. He was a laborer,
a thrifty, hard-working man,
eating little and getting through
a good deal of work. As soon
as the rogue came to have a few
crowns of his own, his intelligence
began to develop; he watched
the progress which I had originated
in this little district with
an eye to his own profit. He
had made quite a fortune in eight
year's time, that is to say,
a fortune for our part of the
world. Very likely he may have
a couple of score thousand francs
by now. But if I were to give
you a thousand guesses, you would
never find out how he made the
money. He is a usurer, and his
scheme of usury is so profoundly
and so cleverly based upon the
requirements of the whole canton,
that I should merely waste my
time if I were to take it upon
myself to undeceive them as to
the benefits which they reap,
in their own opinion, from their
dealings with Taboureau. When
this devil of a fellow saw every
one cultivating his own plot
of ground, he hurried about buying
grain so as to supply the poor
with the requisite seed. Here,
as everywhere else, the peasants
and even some of the farmers
had no ready money with which
to pay for seed. To some, Master
Taboureau would lend a sack of
barley, for which he was to receive
a sack of rye at harvest time,
and to others a measure of wheat
for a sack of four. At the present
day the man has extended this
curious business of his all over
the department; and unless something
happens to prevent him, he will
go on and very likely make a
million. Well, my dear sir, Taboureau
the laborer, an obliging, hard-working,
good-natured fellow, used to
lend a helping hand to any one
who asked him; but as his gains
have increased MONSIEUR Taboureau
has become litigious, arrogant,
and somewhat given to sharp practice.
The more money he makes, the
worse he grows. The moment that
the peasant forsakes his life
of toil pure and simple for the
leisured existence of the landowning
classes, he becomes intolerable.
There is a certain kind of character,
partly virtuous, partly vicious,
half-educated, half-ignorant,
which will always be the despair
of governments. You will see
an example of it in Taboureau.
He looks simple, and even doltish;
but when his interests are in
question, he is certainly profoundly
clever."
A heavy footstep announced
the approach of the grain lender.
"Come in, Taboureau!" cried
Benassis.
Thus forewarned by the doctor,
the commandant scrutinized the
peasant in the doorway. Taboureau
was decidedly thin, and stooped
a little. He had a bulging forehead,
covered with wrinkles, and a
cavernous face, in which two
small gray eyes with a dark spot
in either of them seemed to be
pierced rather than set. The
lines of the miser's mouth were
close and firm, and his narrow
chin turned up to meet an exaggeratedly
hooked nose. His hair was turning
gray already, and deep furrows
which converged above the prominent
cheek-bones spoke of the wily
shrewdness of a horse-dealer
and of a life spent in journeying
about. He wore a blue coat in
fairly clean condition, the square
side-pocket flaps stuck out above
his hips, and the skirts of the
coats hung loose in front, so
that a white-flowered waistcoat
was visible. There he stood firmly
planted on both feet, leaning
upon a thick stick with a knob
at the end of it. A little spaniel
had followed the grain-dealer,
in spite of Jacquotte's efforts,
and was crouching beside him.
"Well, what is it?" Benassis
asked as he turned to this being.
Taboureau gave a suspicious
glance at the stranger seated
at the doctor's table, and said:
"It is not
a case of illness, M. le Maire,
but you understand
how to doctor the ailments of
the purse just as well as those
of the body. We have had a little
difficulty with a man over at
Saint-Laurent, and I have come
to ask your advice about it."
"Why not see
the justice of the peace or
his clerk?"
"Oh, because
you are so much cleverer, sir,
and I shall feel
more sure about my case if I
can have your countenance."
"My good Taboureau,
I am willing to give medical
advice to the
poor without charging for it;
but I cannot look into the lawsuits
of a man who is as wealthy as
you are for nothing. It costs
a good deal to acquire that kind
of knowledge."
Taboureau began to twist his
hat about.
"If you want
my advice, in order to save
the hard coin you
would have to pay to the lawyer
folk over in Grenoble, you must
send a bag of rye to the widow
Martin, the woman who is bringing
up the charity children."
"DAME! I will do it with all
my heart, sir, if you think it
necessary. Can I talk about this
business of mine without troubling
the gentleman there?" he added,
with a look at Genestas.
The doctor nodded, so Taboureau
went on.
"Well, then,
sir, two months ago a man from
Saint-Laurent
came over here to find me. 'Taboureau,'
said he to me, 'could you sell
me a hundred and thirty-seven
measures of barley?' 'Why not?'
say I, 'that is my trade. Do
you want it immediately?' 'No,'
he says, 'I want it for the beginning
of spring, in March.' So far,
so good. Well, we drive our bargain,
and we drink a glass, and we
agree that he is to pay me the
price that the barley fetched
at Grenoble last market day,
and I am to deliver it in March.
I am to warehouse it at owner's
risk, and no allowance for shrinkage
of course. But barley goes up
and up, my dear sir; the barley
rises like boiling milk. Then
I am hard up for money, and I
sell my barley. Quite natural,
sir, was it not?"
"No," said Benassis, "the
barley had passed out of your
possession,
you were only warehousing it.
And suppose the barley had gone
down in value, would you not
have compelled your buyer to
take it at the price you agreed
upon?"
"But very likely
he would not have paid me,
sir. One must look
out for oneself! The seller ought
to make a good profit when the
chance comes in his way; and,
after, all the goods are not
yours until you have paid for
them. That is so, Monsieur l'Officier,
is it not? For you can see that
the gentleman has been in the
army."
"Taboureau," Benassis said
sternly, "ill luck will come
to you. Sooner or later God punishes
ill deeds. How can you, knowing
as much as you do, a capable
man moreover, and a man who conducts
his business honorably, set examples
of dishonesty to the canton?
If you allow such proceedings
as this to be taken against you,
how can you expect that the poor
will remain honest people and
will not rob you? Your laborers
will cheat you out of part of
their working hours, and every
one here will be demoralized.
You are in the wrong. Your barley
was as good as delivered. If
the man from Saint-Laurent had
fetched it himself, you would
not have gone there to take it
away from him; you have sold
something that was no longer
yours to sell, for your barley
had already been turned into
money which was to be paid down
at the stipulated time. But go
on."
Genestas gave the doctor a
significant glance, to call his
attention to Taboureau's impassive
countenance. Not a muscle had
stirred in the usurer's face
during this reprimand; there
was no flush on his forehead,
and no sign of emotion in his
little eyes.
"Well, sir,
I am called upon to supply
the barley at last
winter's price. Now _I_ consider
that I am not bound to do so."
"Look here,
Taboureau, deliver that barley
and be very quick
about it, or make up your mind
to be respected by nobody in
the future. Even if you gained
the day in a case like this,
you would be looked upon as an
unscrupulous man who does not
keep to his word, and is not
bound by promises, or by honor,
or----"
"Go on, there
is nothing to be afraid of;
tell me that I
am a scamp, a scoundrel, a thief
outright. You can say things
like that in business without
insulting anybody, M. le Maire.
'Tis each for himself in business,
you know."
"Well, then,
why deliberately put yourself
in a position in
which you deserve to be called
by such names?"
"But if the
law is on my side, sir?"
"But the law
will certainly NOT be on your
side."
"Are you quite
sure about it, sir? Certain
sure? For you see
it is an important matter."
"Certainly
I am. Quite sure. If I were
not at dinner, I would
have down the code, and you should
see for yourself. If the case
comes on, you will lose it, and
you will never set foot in my
house again, for I do not wish
to receive people whom I do not
respect. Do you understand? You
will lose your case."
"Oh! no, not at all, I shall
not lose it, sir," said Taboureau. "You
see, sir, it is this way; it
is the man from Saint-Laurent
who owes ME the barley; I bought
it of him, and now he refuses
to deliver it. I just wanted
to make quite certain that I
should gain my case before going
to any expense at court about
it."
Genestas and the doctor exchanged
glances; each concealed his amazement
at the ingenious device by which
the man had sought to learn the
truth about this point of law.
"Very well,
Taboureau, your man is a swindler;
you should
not make bargains with such people."
"Ah! sir, they
understand business, those
people do."
"Good-bye,
Taboureau."
"Your servant,
gentlemen."
"Well, now," remarked Benassis,
when the usurer had gone, "if
that fellow were in Paris, do
you not think that he would be
a millionaire before very long?"
After dinner, the doctor and
his visitor went back to the
salon, and all the rest of the
evening until bedtime they talked
about war and politics; Genestas
evincing a most violent dislike
of the English in the course
of conversation.
"May I know whom I have the
honor of entertaining as a guest?" asked
the doctor.
"My name is Pierre Bluteau," answered
Genestas; "I am a captain stationed
at Grenoble."
"Very well,
sir. Do you care to adopt M.
Gravier's plan? In
the morning after breakfast he
liked to go on my rounds with
me. I am not at all sure that
you would find anything to interest
you in the things that occupy
me--they are so very commonplace.
For, after all, you own no land
about here, nor are you the mayor
of the place, and you will see
nothing in the canton that you
cannot see elsewhere; one thatched
cottage is just like another.
Still you will be in the open
air, and you will have something
to take you out of doors."
"No proposal
could give me more pleasure.
I did not venture
to make it myself, lest I should
thrust myself upon you."
Commandant Genestas (who shall
keep his own name in spite of
the fictitious appellation which
he had thought fit to give himself)
followed his host to a room on
the first floor above the salon.
"That is right," said Benassis, "Jacquotte
has lighted a fire for you. If
you want anything, there is a
bell-pull close to the head of
the bed."
"I am not likely to want anything,
however small, it seems to me," exclaimed
Genestas. "There is even a boot-jack.
Only an old trooper knows what
a boot-jack is worth! There are
times, when one is out on a campaign,
sir, when one is ready to burn
down a house to come by a knave
of a boot-jack. After a few marches,
one on the top of another, or
above all, after an engagement,
there are times when a swollen
foot and the soaked leather will
not part company, pull as you
will; I have had to lie down
in my boots more than once. One
can put up with the annoyance
so long as one is by oneself."
The commandant's wink gave
a kind of profound slyness to
his last utterance; then he began
to make a survey. Not without
surprise, he saw that the room
was neatly kept, comfortable,
and almost luxurious.
"What splendor!" was his comment. "Your
own room must be something wonderful."
"Come and see," said the doctor; "I
am your neighbor, there is nothing
but the staircase between us."
Genestas was again surprised
when he entered the doctor's
room, a bare-looking apartment
with no adornment on the walls
save an old- fashioned wall-paper
of a yellowish tint with a pattern
of brown roses over it; the color
had gone in patches here and
there. There was a roughly painted
iron bedstead, two gray cotton
curtains were suspended from
a wooden bracket above it, and
a threadbare strip of carpet
lay at the foot; it was like
a bed in a hospital. By the bed-head
stood a rickety cupboard on four
feet with a door that continually
rattled with a sound like castanets.
Three chairs and a couple of
straw- bottomed armchairs stood
about the room, and on a low
chest of drawers in walnut wood
stood a basin, and a ewer of
obsolete pattern with a lid,
which was kept in place by a
leaden rim round the top of the
vessel. This completed the list
of the furniture.
The grate was empty. All the
apparatus required for shaving
lay about in front of an old
mirror suspended above the painted
stone chimney- piece by a bit
of string. The floor was clean
and carefully swept, but it was
worn and splintered in various
places, and there were hollows
in it here and there. Gray cotton
curtains bordered with a green
fringe adorned the two windows.
The scrupulous cleanliness maintained
by Jacquotte gave a certain air
of distinction to this picture
of simplicity, but everything
in it, down to the round table
littered with stray papers, and
the very pens on the writing-desk,
gave the idea of an almost monastic
life--a life so wholly filled
with thought and feeling of a
wider kind that outward surroundings
had come to be matters of no
moment. An open door allowed
the commandant to see the smaller
room, which doubtless the doctor
seldom occupied. It was scarcely
kept in the same condition as
the adjoining apartment; a few
dusty books lay strewn about
over the no less dusty shelves,
and from the rows of labeled
bottles it was easy to guess
that the place was devoted rather
to the dispensing of drugs than
scientific studies.
"Why this difference between
your room and mine, you will
ask?" said Benassis. "Listen
a moment. I have always blushed
for those who put their guests
in the attics, who furnish them
with mirrors that distort everything
to such a degree that any one
beholding himself might think
that he was smaller or larger
than nature made him, or suffering
from apoplectic stroke or some
other bad complaint. Ought we
not to do our utmost to make
a room as pleasant as possible
during the time that our friend
can be with us? Hospitality,
to my thinking, is a virtue,
a pleasure, and a luxury; but
in whatever light it is considered,
nay, even if you regard it as
a speculation, ought not our
guest or our friend to be made
much of? Ought not every refinement
of luxury to be reserved for
him?
"So the best
furniture is put into your
room, where a thick
carpet is laid down; there are
hangings on the walls, and a
clock and wax candles; and for
you Jacquotte will do her best,
she has no doubt brought a night-light,
and a pair of new slippers and
some milk, and her warming-pan
too for your benefit. I hope
that you will find that luxurious
armchair the most comfortable
seat you have ever sat in, it
was a discovery of the late cure's;
I do not know where he found
it, but it is a fact that if
you wish to meet with the perfection
of comfort, beauty, or convenience,
you must ask counsel of the Church.
Well, I hope that you will find
everything in your room to your
liking. You will find some good
razors and excellent soap, and
all the trifling details that
make one's own home so pleasant.
And if my views on the subject
of hospitality should not at
once explain the difference between
your room and mine, to-morrow,
M. Bluteau, you will arrive at
a wonderfully clear comprehension
of the bareness of my room and
the untidy condition of my study,
when you see all the continual
comings and goings here. Mine
is not an indoor life, to begin
with. I am almost always out
of the house, and if I stay at
home, peasants come in at every
moment to speak to me. My body
and soul and house are all theirs.
Why should I worry about social
conventions in these matters,
or trouble myself over the damage
unintentionally done to floors
and furniture by these worthy
folk? Such things cannot be helped.
Luxury properly belongs to the
boudoir and the guest-chamber,
to great houses and chateaux.
In short, as I scarcely do more
than sleep here, what do I want
with superfluities of wealth?
You do not know, moreover, how
little I care for anything in
this world."
They wished each other a friendly
good-night with a warm shake
of the hand, and went to bed.
But before the commandant slept,
he came to more than one conclusion
as to the man who hour by hour
grew greater in his eyes.
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