Sentimental Education (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) (56 page)

This interruption gave great offense. Nearly all the audience got on benches, and, shaking their fists, shouted: “Atheist! aristocrat! devil!” whilst the president’s bell kept ringing, and the cries of “Order! order!” multiplied. But, aimless, and, moreover, fortified by three cups of coffee which he had consumed before coming to the meeting, he struggled in the midst of the others:

“What? I an aristocrat? Come, now!”

When, at length, he was permitted to give an explanation, he declared that he would never be at peace with the priests; and, since something had just been said about economic measures, it would be a splendid one to put an end to the churches, the sacred vessels, and finally all creeds.

Somebody raised the objection that he was going too far.

“Yes! I am going too far! But, when a ship is caught suddenly in a storm—”

Without waiting for the conclusion of this comparison, another made a reply to his observation:

“Granted! But this is to demolish at a single stroke, like a mason devoid of judgment—”

“You are insulting the masons!” yelled a citizen covered with plaster. And persisting in the belief that provocation had been offered to him, he spewed forth insults, and wished to fight, clinging tightly to the bench whereon he sat. It took no less than three men to throw him out.

Meanwhile the workman still remained on the platform. The two secretaries gave him an intimation that he should come down. He protested against the injustice done to him.

“You shall not prevent me from crying out, ‘Eternal love to our dear France! eternal love all to the Republic!’ ”

“Citizens!” said Compain—“Citizens!”

And, by repeating “Citizens,” having obtained a little silence, he leaned on the rostrum with his two red hands, which looked like stumps, bent forward, and blinking his eyes:

“I believe that it would be necessary to give a larger extension to the calf’s head.”

All who heard him kept silent, thinking that they had misunderstood his words.

“Yes! the calf’s head!”

Three hundred laughs burst forth at the same time. The ceiling shook.

At the sight of all these faces convulsed with laughter, Compain shrank back. He continued in an angry tone:

“What! you don’t know what the calf’s head is!”

This brought on a fit of hysterics and delirium. They held their sides. Some of them even tumbled off the benches to the ground with convulsions of laughter. Compain, not being able to stand it any longer, took refuge beside Regimbart, and wanted to drag him away.

“No! I am remaining till it is all over!” said the Citizen.

This reply caused Frédéric to make up his mind; and, as he looked about to the right and the left to see whether his friends were prepared to support him, he saw Pellerin on the rostrum in front of him.

The artist assumed a haughty tone in addressing the crowd.

“I would like to get some notion as to who is the candidate amongst all these that represents art. I myself have painted a picture.”

“We have nothing to do with painting pictures!” was the churlish remark of a thin man with red spots on his cheeks.

Pellerin protested against this interruption.

But the other, in a tragic tone:

“Shouldn’t the Government have already, by decree, abolished prostitution and poverty?”

And this phrase having promptly gained him the good will of the audience, he thundered against the corruption of the great cities.

“Shame and infamy! We ought to grab hold of wealthy citizens on their way out of the Maison d’Or and spit in their faces—unless it be that the Government encourages debauchery! But the collectors of the city dues exhibit towards our daughters and our sisters an indecency—”

A voice exclaimed, some distance away:

“This is comical! Throw him out!”

“They extract taxes from us to pay for licentiousness! Consider the high salaries paid to actors—”

“I can answer to that!” cried Delmar.

He leaped from the rostrum, pushed everybody aside, and declaring that he was disgusted by such stupid accusations, expatiated on the civilising mission of the actor. Inasmuch as the theatre was the focus of national education, he would vote for the reform of the theatre; and to begin with, no more managers, no more privileges!

“Yes; of any sort!”

The actor’s performance excited the audience, and subversive motions came from all parts of the hall.

“No more academies! No more Institut!”

“No missions!”

“No more baccalauréat! Down with University degrees!”

“Let us preserve them,” said Sénécal; “but let them be conferred by universal suffrage, by the people, the only true judge!”

Besides, these things were not the most urgent. It was necessary to bring down the wealthy. And he represented them as wallowing in crime under their gilded ceilings; while the poor, writhing in their garrets with famine, cultivated every virtue. The applause became so vehement that he had to break off. For several minutes he remained with his eyes closed, his head thrown back, and, as it were, lulling himself to sleep over the fury which he had aroused.

Then he began to talk in a dogmatic fashion, in phrases as imperious as laws. The State should take possession of the banks and of the insurance offices. Inheritances should be abolished. A social fund should be established for the workers. Many other measures were desirable in the future. For the time being, these would suffice, and, returning to the question of the elections: “We want pure citizens, men entirely fresh. Let some one come forward.”

Frédéric arose. There was a buzz of approval made by his friends. But Sénécal, assuming the attitude of a Fouquier-Tinville,
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began to ask questions as to his Christian name and surname, his antecedents, life, and morals.

Frédéric answered succinctly, and bit his lips. Sénécal asked whether anyone saw any impediment to this candidature.

“No! no!”

But, for his part, he saw some. All around him bent forward and strained their ears to listen. The citizen who was seeking their support had not delivered a certain sum promised by him to the foundation of a democratic journal. Moreover, on the twenty-second of February, though he had had sufficient notice on the subject, he had failed to be at the meeting-place in the Place de Panthéon.

“I swear that he was at the Tuileries!” exclaimed Dussardier.

“Can you swear to having seen him at the Panthéon?”

Dussardier bowed his head. Frédéric was silent. His friends, scandalised, looked at him anxiously.

“In any case,” Sénécal went on, “do you know a patriot who will answer to us on your principles?”

“I will!” said Dussardier.

“Oh! this is not enough; another!”

Frédéric turned round to Pellerin. The artist replied to him with a great number of gestures, which meant:

“Ah! my dear boy, they have rejected me! What do you want me to do?”

Thereupon Frédéric gave Regimbart a nudge.

“Yes, that’s true; ’tis time! I’m going.”

And Regimbart stepped upon the platform; then, pointing towards the Spaniard, who had followed him:

“Allow me, citizens, to present to you a patriot from Barcelona!”

The patriot made a low bow, rolled his silvery eyes about, and with his hand on his heart:

“Ciudadanos! mucho aprecio el honor que me dispensáis, y si grande es vuestra bondad, mayor vuestra atención!”

“I demand the right to speak!” cried Frédéric.

“Desde que se proclamo la constitución de Cadiz, ese pacto fundamental of las libertades Espanolas, hasta la ultima revolución, nuestra patria cuenta numerosos y heroicos mártires.”

Frédéric once more made an effort to obtain a hearing: “But, citizens!—”

The Spaniard went on: “El martes proximo tendra lugar en la iglesia de la Magdelena un servicio fúnebre.”

“This is ridiculous! Nobody understands him!”

This observation exasperated the audience.

“Throw him out! Throw him out!”

“Who? I?” asked Frédéric.

“Yes, you!” said Sénécal, majestically. “Out with you!”

He rose to leave, and the voice of the Iberian pursued him:

“Y todos los Espanoles descarien ver alli reunidas las disputaciónes de los clubs y de la milicia nacional. Una oración fúnebre en honor de la libertad Española y del mundo entero serà pronunciada por un miembro del clero de Paris en la sala Bonne Nouvelle. Honor al pueblo francés que llamaria yo el primero pueblo del mundo, sino fuese ciudadano de otra nación!”

“Aristo!” screamed one lout, shaking his fist at Frédéric, as the latter, boiling with indignation, rushed out into the courtyard adjoining the place where the meeting was held.

He reproached himself for his devotedness, without reflecting that, after all, the accusations brought against him were just.

What fatal idea was this candidature! But what asses! what idiots! He drew comparisons between himself and these men, and soothed his wounded pride with the thought of their stupidity.

Then he felt the need of seeing Rosanette. After such an exhibition of ugliness, and so much maliciousness, her sweetness would be a relief. She was aware that he had intended to present himself at a club that evening. However, she did not even ask him a single question when he came in. She was sitting near the fire, ripping open the lining of a dress. He was surprised to find her thus occupied.

“Hello! what are you doing?”

“You can see for yourself,” said she, dryly. “I am mending my clothes! So much for this Republic of yours!”

“Why do you call it mine?”

“Oh, it’s mine then!”

And she began to blame him for everything that had happened in France for the last two months, accusing him of having brought about the Revolution and with having ruined her prospects by making everybody that had money leave Paris, and that she would by-and-by be dying in a hospital.

“It is easy for you to talk lightly about it, with your yearly income! However, at the rate at which things are going, you won’t have your yearly income long.”

“That may be,” said Frédéric. “The most devoted are always misunderstood, and if one were not sustained by one’s conscience, the brutes that you mix yourself up with would make you feel disgusted with your own self-sacrifice!”

Rosanette gazed at him with knitted brows.

“Eh? What? What self-sacrifice? Monsieur has not succeeded, it would seem? So much the better! It will teach you to make patriotic donations. Oh, don’t lie! I know you have given them three hundred francs, for this Republic of yours has to be kept like a mistress. Well, amuse yourself with her, my good man!”

Under this avalanche of abuse, Frédéric passed from his former disappointment to a more painful disillusion.

He withdrew to the other end of the room. She came over to him.

“Look here! Think it out a bit! In a country as in a house, there must be a master, otherwise, everyone pockets something out of the household money. At first, everybody knows that Ledru-Rollin is upto his ears in debt. As for Lamartine, how can you expect a poet to understand politics? Ah! ’tis all very well for you to shake your head and to presume that you have more brains than the others; all the same, what I say is true! But you are always quibbling; a person can’t get in a word with you! For instance, there’s Fournier-Fontaine, who had stores at Saint-Roch! do you know how much he lost? Eight hundred thousand francs! And Gomer, the packer opposite to him—another Republican, that one—he smashed the tongs on his wife’s head, and he drank so much absinthe that he is going to be put into an asylum. That’s the way with the whole of them—the Republicans! A Republic at twenty-five percent. Ah! yes! it’s something you can be proud of?”

Frédéric went off. He was disgusted at the foolishness of this girl, which was expressed in such common, low-class language. He felt himself even becoming a little patriotic once more.

The ill-temper of Rosanette only worsened. Mademoiselle Vatnaz irritated her with her enthusiasm. Believing that she had a mission, she felt a furious desire to make speeches, to carry on disputes, and—sharper than Rosanette in matters of this sort—overwhelmed her with arguments.

One day she made her appearance burning with indignation against Hussonnet, who had just indulged in some smutty remarks at the Woman’s Club. Rosanette approved of this conduct, declaring even that she would put on men’s clothes to go and “give them a bit of her mind, and to give them a whipping, the entire lot of them.

Frédéric entered just at that moment.

“You’ll accompany me—won’t you?”

And, in spite of his presence, a bickering match took place between them, one of them acting like a citizen’s wife and the other a female philosopher.

According to Rosanette, women were born exclusively for love, or in order to bring up children, to be housekeepers.

According to Mademoiselle Vatnaz, women ought to have a position in the Government. In former times, the Gaulish women, and also the Anglo-Saxon women, took part in the legislation; the squaws of the Hurons formed a portion of the Council. The work of civilisation was common to both. It was necessary that all should contribute towards it, and that fraternity should be substituted for egoism, association for individualism, and cultivation on a large scale for minute subdivision of land.

“Come, now that is good! you know a great deal about agriculture now!”

“Why not? Besides, it is a question of humanity, of its future!”

“Mind your own business!”

“This is my business!”

They got into a fight. Frédéric intervened. Vatnaz became very hot under the collar, and went so far as to defend Communism.

“What nonsense!” said Rosanette. “How could such a thing ever come to pass?”

The other gave, in support of her theory, the examples of the Essenes, the Moravian Brethren, the Jesuits of Paraguay, the family of the Pingons near Thiers in Auvergne; and, as she gestured a great deal, her watch chain got entangled in her bunch of charms, one of which was a gold sheep.