The Lesser Bourgeoisie, Honore de Balzac [good book recommendations .TXT] 📗

my friend

and colleague, Jean-Baptiste Biot, to determine the arc of the

terrestrial meridian from Barcelona to the Balearic isles. I was just

in the act of observing a star (perhaps the very one my rascally pupil

has discovered), when suddenly, war having broken out between France

and Spain, the peasants, seeing me perched with a telescope on Monte

Galazzo, took it into their heads that I was making signals to the

enemy. A mob of savages broke my instruments, and talked of stringing

me up. They were just going to do it, when the captain of a vessel

took me prisoner and thrust me into the citadel of Belver, where I

spent three years in the harshest captivity. Since them, as you may

well believe, I loathe the whole celestial system; though I was,

without knowing it, the first to observe the famous comet of 1811; but

I should have taken care not to say a word about it if it had not been

for Monsieur Flauguergues, who announced it. Like all my pupils,

Phellion knows my aversion to stars, and he knew very well the worst

trick he could play me would be to saddle one on my back; and that

deputation that came to play the farce of congratulating me was mighty

lucky not to find me at home, for if they had, I can assure those

gentlemen of the Academy, they would have had a hot reception."

 

Everybody present thought the old mathematician's monomania quite

delightful, except la Peyrade, who now, in perceiving Felix Phellion's

part in the affair, regretted deeply having caused the explanation.

 

"And yet, Monsieur Picot," said Minard, "if Felix Phellion is only

guilty of attributing his discovery to you, it seems to me that his

indiscreet behavior has resulted in a certain compensation to you: the

cross of the Legion of honor, a pension, and the glory attached to

your name are not to be despised."

 

"The cross and the pension I take," said the old man, emptying his

glass, which, to Brigitte's terror, he set down upon the table with a

force that threatened to smash it. "The government has owed them to me

these twenty years; not for the discovery of stars,--things that I

have always despised,--but for my famous 'Treatise on Differential

Logarithms' (Kepler thought proper to call them monologarithms), which

is a sequel to the tables of Napier; also for my 'Postulatum' of

Euclid, of which I was the first to discover the solution; but above

all, for my 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,'--four volumes in quarto with

plates; Paris, 1825. You see, therefore, monsieur, that to give me

glory is bringing water to the Seine. I had so little need of Monsieur

Felix Phellion to make me a position in the scientific world that I

turned him out of my house long ago."

 

"Then it isn't the first star," said Colleville, flippantly, "that he

dared to put upon you?"

 

"He did worse than that," roared the old man; "he ruined my

reputation, he tarnished my name. My 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,' the

printing of which cost me every penny I owned, though it ought to have

been printed gratis at the Royal Printing-office, was calculated to

make my fortune and render me immortal. Well, that miserable Felix

prevented it. From time to time, pretending to bring messages from my

editor, he would say, the young sycophant, 'Papa Picot, your book is

selling finely; here's five hundred francs--two hundred francs--and

once it was two thousand--which your publisher charged me to give

you.' This thing went on for years, and my publisher, who had the

baseness to enter into the plot, would say to me, when I went to the

shop: 'Yes, yes, it doesn't do badly, it _bubbles_, that book; we shall

soon be at the end of this edition.' I, who didn't suggest anything, I

pocketed my money, and thought to myself: 'My book is liked, little by

little its ideas are making their way; I may now expect, from day to

day, that some great capitalist will come to me and propose to apply

my system--'"

 

"--of 'Absorption of Liquids'?" asked Colleville, who had been

steadily filling the old fellow's glass.

 

"No, monsieur, my 'Theory of Perpetual Motion,' 4 vols. in quarto with

plates. But no! days, weeks went by and nobody came; so, thinking that

my publisher did not put all the energy he should into the matter, I

tried to sell the second edition to another man. It was that,

monsieur, that enabled me to discover the whole plot, on which, as I

said before, I turned that serpent out of my house. In six years only

nine copies had been sold! Kept quiet in false security I had done

nothing for the propagation of my book, which had been left to take

care of itself; and thus it was that I, victim of black and wicked

jealousy, was shamefully despoiled of the value of my labors."

 

"But," said Minard, making himself the mouthpiece of the thoughts of

the company, "may we not see in that act a manner as ingenious as it

was delicate to--"

 

"To give me alms! is that what you mean?" interrupted the old man,

with a roar that made Mademoiselle Minard jump in her chair; "to

humiliate me, dishonor me--me, his old professor! Am I in need of

charity? Has Picot (Nepomucene), to whom his wife brought a dowry of

one hundred thousand francs, ever stretched out his palm to any one?

But in these days nothing is respected. Old fellows, as they call us,

our religion and our good faith is taken advantage of so that these

youths may say to the public: 'Old drivellers, don't you see now they

are good for nothing? It needs _us_, the young generation, _us_, the

moderns, _us_, Young France, to bring them up on a bottle.' Young

greenhorn! let me see _you_ try to feed _me_! Old drivellers know more in

their little finger than you in your whole brain, and you'll never be

worth us, paltry little intriguer that you are! However, I know my day

of vengeance will come; that young Phellion can't help ending badly;

what he did to-day, reading a statement to the Academy, under my name,

was forgery, forgery! and the law will send him to the galleys for

that."

 

"True," said Colleville, "forgery of a public star."

 

Brigitte, who quaked for her glasses, and whose nerves were

exacerbated by the monstrous consumption of cakes and wine, now gave

the signal to return to the salon. Besides, she had heard the

door-bell ring several times, announcing the arrival of guests for

the evening. The question then was how to transplant the professor,

and Colleville politely offered him his arm.

 

"No, monsieur," he said, "you must allow me to stay where I am. I am

not dressed for a party, and besides, a strong light hurts my eyes.

Moreover, I don't choose to give myself as a spectacle; it will be

best that my interview with Felix Phellion should take place between

'four-eyes,' as they say."

 

"Well, let him alone, then," said Brigitte to Colleville.

 

No one insisted,--the old man having, unconsciously, pretty nigh

discrowned himself in the opinion of the company. But before leaving,

the careful housewife removed everything that was at all fragile from

his reach; then, by way of a slight attention, she said:--

 

"Shall I send you some coffee?"

 

"I'll take it, madame," responded pere Picot, "and some cognac with

it."

 

"Oh! parbleu! he takes everything," said Brigitte to the male

domestic, and she told the latter to keep an eye on the old madman.

 

When Brigitte returned to the salon she found that the Abbe Gondrin

had become the centre of a great circle formed by nearly the whole

company, and as she approached, she heard him say:--

 

"I thank Heaven for bestowing upon me such a pleasure. I have never

felt an emotion like that aroused by the scene we have just witnessed;

even the rather burlesque form of this confidence, which was certainly

very artless, for it was quite involuntary, only adds to the honor of

the surprising generosity it revealed. Placed as I am by my ministry

in the way of knowing of many charities, and often either the witness

or intermediary of good actions, I think I never in my life have met

with a more touching or a more ingenious devotion. To keep the left

hand ignorant of what the right hand does is a great step in

Christianity; but to go so far as to rob one's self of one's own fame

to benefit another under such conditions is the gospel applied in its

highest precepts; it is being more than a Sister of Charity; it is

doing the work of an apostle of beneficence. How I should like to know

that noble young man, and shake him by the hand."

 

With her arm slipped through that of her godmother, Celeste was

standing very near the priest, her ears intent upon his words, her arm

pressing tighter and tighter that of Madame Thuillier, as the abbe

analyzed the generous action of Felix Phellion, until at last she

whispered under her breath:--

 

"You hear, godmother, you hear!"

 

To destroy the inevitable effect which this hearty praise would surely

have on Celeste, Thuillier hastened to say:--

 

"Unfortunately, Monsieur l'abbe, the young man of whom you speak so

warmly is not altogether unknown to you. I have had occasion to tell

you about him, and to regret that it was not possible to follow out

certain plans which we once entertained for him; I allude to the very

compromising independence he affects in his religious opinions."

 

"Ah! is that the young man?" said the abbe; "you surprise me much; I

must say such an idea would never have crossed my mind."

 

"You will see him presently, Monsieur l'abbe," said la Peyrade,

joining in the conversation, "and if you question him on certain

grounds you will have no difficulty in discovering the ravages that a

love of science can commit in the most gifted souls."

 

"I am afraid I shall not see him," said the abbe, "as my black gown

would be out of place in the midst of the more earthly gaiety that

will soon fill this salon. But I know, Monsieur de la Peyrade, that

you are a man of sincerely pious convictions, and as, without any

doubt, you feel as much interest in the young man's welfare as I do

myself, I shall say to you in parting: Do not be uneasy about him;

sooner or later, such choice souls come back to us, and if the return

of these prodigals should be long delayed I should not fear, on seeing

them go to God, that His infinite mercy would fail them."

 

So saying, the abbe looked about to find his hat, and proceeded to

slip quietly away.

 

Suddenly a fearful uproar was heard. Rushing into the dining-room,

whence came a sound of furniture overturned and glasses breaking,

Brigitte found Colleville occupied in adjusting his cravat and looking

himself over to be sure that his coat, cruelly pulled awry, bore no

signs of being actually torn.

 

"What is the matter?" cried Brigitte.

 

"It is that old idiot," replied Colleville, "who is in a fury. I came

to take my coffee with him, just to keep him company, and he took a

joke amiss, and collared me, and knocked over two chairs and a tray of

glasses because Josephine didn't get out of his way in time."

 

"It is all because you've been teasing him," said Brigitte, crossly;

"why couldn't you stay in the salon instead of coming here to play

your jokes, as you call them? You think you are still in the orchestra

of the Opera-Comique."

 

This sharp rebuke delivered, Brigitte, like the resolute woman that

she was, saw that she absolutely must get rid of the ferocious old man

who threatened her household with flames and blood. Accordingly, she

approached pere Picot, who was tranquilly engaged in burning brandy in

his saucer.

 

"Monsieur," she said, at the top of her lungs, as if she were speaking

to a deaf person (evidently thinking that a blind one ought to be

treated in the same manner), "I have come to tell you something that

may annoy you. Monsieur and Madame Phellion have just arrived, and

they inform me that their son, Monsieur Felix, is not coming. He has a

cold and a sore-throat."

 

"Then he got it this afternoon reading that lecture," cried the

professor, joyfully. "That's justice!--Madame, where do you get your

brandy?"

 

"Why, at my grocer's," replied Brigitte, taken aback by the question.

 

"Well, madame, I ought to tell you that in a house where one can drink

such excellent champagne, which reminds me of that we used to quaff at

the table of Monsieur de Fontanes, grand-master of the University, it

is shameful to keep such brandy. I tell you, with the frankness I put

into everything, that it is good only to wash your horses' feet, and

if I