THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART

 BY

 HONORE DE BALZAC

 Translated By Katharine Prescott Wormeley

 DEDICATION

 To Madame la Duchesse de Castries. 

 THE ILLUSTRIOUS GAUDISSART

 CHAPTER I

The commercial traveller, a personage unknown to antiquity, is one ofthe striking figures created by the manners and customs of our presentepoch. May he not, in some conceivable order of things, be destined tomark for coming philosophers the great transition which welds a periodof material enterprise to the period of intellectual strength? Ourcentury will bind the realm of isolated power, abounding as it does increative genius, to the realm of universal but levelling might;equalizing all products, spreading them broadcast among the masses, and being itself controlled by the principle of unity, --the finalexpression of all societies. Do we not find the dead level ofbarbarism succeeding the saturnalia of popular thought and the laststruggles of those civilizations which accumulated the treasures ofthe world in one direction?

The commercial traveller! Is he not to the realm of ideas what ourstage-coaches are to men and things? He is their vehicle; he sets themgoing, carries them along, rubs them up with one another. He takesfrom the luminous centre a handful of light, and scatters it broadcastamong the drowsy populations of the duller regions. This humanpyrotechnic is a scholar without learning, a juggler hoaxed byhimself, an unbelieving priest of mysteries and dogmas, which heexpounds all the better for his want of faith. Curious being! Hehas seen everything, known everything, and is up in all the waysof the world. Soaked in the vices of Paris, he affects to be thefellow-well-met of the provinces. He is the link which connects thevillage with the capital; though essentially he is neither Parisiannor provincial, --he is a traveller. He sees nothing to the core: menand places he knows by their names; as for things, he looks merely attheir surface, and he has his own little tape-line with which tomeasure them. His glance shoots over all things and penetrates none. He occupies himself with a great deal, yet nothing occupies him. 

Jester and jolly fellow, he keeps on good terms with all politicalopinions, and is patriotic to the bottom of his soul. A capital mimic, he knows how to put on, turn and turn about, the smiles of persuasion, satisfaction, and good-nature, or drop them for the normal expressionof his natural man. He is compelled to be an observer of a certainsort in the interests of his trade. He must probe men with a glanceand guess their habits, wants, and above all their solvency. Toeconomize time he must come to quick decisions as to his chances ofsuccess, --a practice that makes him more or less a man of judgment; onthe strength of which he sets up as a judge of theatres, anddiscourses about those of Paris and the provinces. 

He knows all the good and bad haunts in France, "de actu et visu. " Hecan pilot you, on occasion, to vice or virtue with equal assurance. Blest with the eloquence of a hot-water spigot turned on at will, hecan check or let run, without floundering, the collection of phraseswhich he keeps on tap, and which produce upon his victims the effectof a moral shower-bath. Loquacious as a cricket, he smokes, drinks, wears a profusion of trinkets, overawes the common people, passes fora lord in the villages, and never permits himself to be "stumped, "--aslang expression all his own. He knows how to slap his pockets at theright time, and make his money jingle if he thinks the servants of thesecond-class houses which he wants to enter (always eminentlysuspicious) are likely to take him for a thief. Activity is not theleast surprising quality of this human machine. Not the hawk swoopingupon its prey, not the stag doubling before the huntsman and thehounds, nor the hounds themselves catching scent of the game, can becompared with him for the rapidity of his dart when he spies a"commission, " for the agility with which he trips up a rival and getsahead of him, for the keenness of his scent as he noses a customer anddiscovers the sport where he can get off his wares. 

How many great qualities must such a man possess! You will find in allcountries many such diplomats of low degree; consummate negotiatorsarguing in the interests of calico, jewels, frippery, wines; and oftendisplaying more true diplomacy than ambassadors themselves, who, forthe most part, know only the forms of it. No one in France can doubtthe powers of the commercial traveller; that intrepid soul who daresall, and boldly brings the genius of civilization and the moderninventions of Paris into a struggle with the plain commonsense ofremote villages, and the ignorant and boorish treadmill of provincialways. Can we ever forget the skilful manoeuvres by which he wormshimself into the minds of the populace, bringing a volume of words tobear upon the refractory, reminding us of the indefatigable worker inmarbles whose file eats slowly into a block of porphyry? Would youseek to know the utmost power of language, or the strongest pressurethat a phrase can bring to bear against rebellious lucre, against themiserly proprietor squatting in the recesses of his country lair?--listen to one of these great ambassadors of Parisian industry ashe revolves and works and sucks like an intelligent piston of thesteam-engine called Speculation. 

"Monsieur, " said a wise political economist, thedirector-cashier-manager and secretary-general of a celebratedfire-insurance company, "out of every five hundred thousand francsof policies to be renewed in the provinces, not more than fiftythousand are paid up voluntarily. The other four hundred and fiftythousand are got in by the activity of our agents, who go about amongthose who are in arrears and worry them with stories of horribleincendiaries until they are driven to sign the new policies. Thus yousee that eloquence, the labial flux, is nine tenths of the ways andmeans of our business. "

To talk, to make people listen to you, --that is seduction in itself. Anation that has two Chambers, a woman who lends both ears, are soonlost. Eve and her serpent are the everlasting myth of an hourly factwhich began, and may end, with the world itself. 

"A conversation of two hours ought to capture your man, " said aretired lawyer. 

Let us walk round the commercial traveller, and look at him well. Don't forget his overcoat, olive green, nor his cloak with its moroccocollar, nor the striped blue cotton shirt. In this queer figure--sooriginal that we cannot rub it out--how many divers personalities wecome across! In the first place, what an acrobat, what a circus, whata battery, all in one, is the man himself, his vocation, and histongue! Intrepid mariner, he plunges in, armed with a few phrases, tocatch five or six thousand francs in the frozen seas, in the domain ofthe red Indians who inhabit the interior of France. The provincialfish will not rise to harpoons and torches; it can only be taken withseines and nets and gentlest persuasions. The traveller's business isto extract the gold in country caches by a purely intellectualoperation, and to extract it pleasantly and without pain. Can youthink without a shudder of the flood of phrases which, day by day, renewed each dawn, leaps in cascades the length and breadth of sunnyFrance?

You know the species; let us now take a look at the individual. 

There lives in Paris an incomparable commercial traveller, the paragonof his race, a man who possesses in the highest degree all thequalifications necessary to the nature of his success. His speech isvitriol and likewise glue, --glue to catch and entangle his victim andmake him sticky and easy to grip; vitriol to dissolve hard heads, close fists, and closer calculations. His line was once the _hat_; buthis talents and the art with which he snared the wariest provincialhad brought him such commercial celebrity that all vendors of the"article Paris"[*] paid court to him, and humbly begged that he woulddeign to take their commissions. 

[*] "Article Paris" means anything--especially articles of wearing apparel--which originates or is made in Paris. The name is supposed to give to the thing a special value in the provinces. 

Thus, when he returned to Paris in the intervals of his triumphantprogress through France, he lived a life of perpetual festivity in theshape of weddings and suppers. When he was in the provinces, thecorrespondents in the smaller towns made much of him; in Paris, thegreat houses feted and caressed him. Welcomed, flattered, and fedwherever he went, it came to pass that to breakfast or to dine alonewas a novelty, an event. He lived the life of a sovereign, or, betterstill, of a journalist; in fact, he was the perambulating "feuilleton"of Parisian commerce. 

His name was Gaudissart; and his renown, his vogue, the flatteriesshowered upon him, were such as to win for him the surname ofIllustrious. Wherever the fellow went, --behind a counter or before abar, into a salon or to the top of a stage-coach, up to a garret or todine with a banker, --every one said, the moment they saw him, "Ah!here comes the illustrious Gaudissart!"[*] No name was ever so inkeeping with the style, the manners, the countenance, the voice, thelanguage, of any man. All things smiled upon our traveller, and thetraveller smiled back in return. "Similia similibus, "--he believed inhomoeopathy. Puns, horse-laugh, monkish face, skin of a friar, trueRabelaisian exterior, clothing, body, mind, and features, all pulledtogether to put a devil-may-care jollity into every inch of hisperson. Free-handed and easy-going, he might be recognized at once asthe favorite of grisettes, the man who jumps lightly to the top of astage-coach, gives a hand to the timid lady who fears to step down, jokes with the postillion about his neckerchief and contrives to sellhim a cap, smiles at the maid and catches her round the waist or bythe heart; gurgles at dinner like a bottle of wine and pretends todraw the cork by sounding a filip on his distended cheek; plays a tunewith his knife on the champagne glasses without breaking them, andsays to the company, "Let me see you do _that_"; chaffs the timidtraveller, contradicts the knowing one, lords it over a dinner-tableand manages to get the titbits for himself. A strong fellow, nevertheless, he can throw aside all this nonsense and mean businesswhen he flings away the stump of his cigar and says, with a glance atsome town, "I'll go and see what those people have got in theirstomachs. "

[*] "Se gaudir, " to enjoy, to make fun. "Gaudriole, " gay discourse, rather free. --Littre. 

When buckled down to his work he became the slyest and cleverest ofdiplomats. All things to all men, he knew how to accost a banker likea capitalist, a magistrate like a functionary, a royalist with piousand monarchical sentiments, a bourgeois as one of themselves. Inshort, wherever he was he was just what he ought to be; he leftGaudissart at the door when he went in, and picked him up when he cameout. 

Until 1830 the illustrious Gaudissart was faithful to the articleParis. In his close relation to the caprices of humanity, the variedpaths of commerce had enabled him to observe the windings of the heartof man. He had learned the secret of persuasive eloquence, the knackof loosening the tightest purse-strings, the art of rousing desire inthe souls of husbands, wives, children, and servants; and what ismore, he knew how to satisfy it. No one had greater faculty than hefor inveigling a merchant by the charms of a bargain, and disappearingat the instant when desire had reached its crisis. Full of gratitudeto the hat-making trade, he always declared that it was his efforts inbehalf of the exterior of the human head which had enabled him tounderstand its interior: he had capped and crowned so many people, hewas always flinging himself at their heads, etc. His jokes about hatsand heads were irrepressible, though perhaps not dazzling. 

Nevertheless, after August and October, 1830, he abandoned the hattrade and the article Paris, and tore himself from things mechanicaland visible to mount into the higher spheres of Parisian speculation. "He forsook, " to use his own words, "matter for mind; manufacturedproducts for the infinitely purer elaborations of human intelligence. "This requires some explanation. 

The general upset of 1830 brought to birth, as everybody knows, anumber of old ideas which clever speculators tried to pass off in newbodies. After 1830 ideas became property. A writer, too wise topublish his writings, once remarked that "more ideas are stolen thanpocket-handkerchiefs. " Perhaps in course of time we may have anExchange for thought; in fact, even now ideas, good or bad, have theirconsols, are bought up, imported, exported, sold, and quoted likestocks. If ideas are not on hand ready for sale, speculators try topass off words in their stead, and actually live upon them as a birdlives on the seeds of his millet. Pray do not laugh; a word is worthquite as much as an idea in a land where the ticket on a sack is ofmore importance than the contents. Have we not seen libraries workingoff the word "picturesque" when literature would have cut the throatof the word "fantastic"? Fiscal genius has guessed the proper tax onintellect; it has accurately estimated the profits of advertising; ithas registered a prospectus of the quantity and exact value of theproperty, weighing its thought at the intellectual Stamp Office in theRue de la Paix. 

Having become an article of commerce, intellect and all its productsmust naturally obey the laws which bind other manufacturing interests. Thus it often happens that ideas, conceived in their cups by certainapparently idle Parisians, --who nevertheless fight many a moral battleover their champagne and their pheasants, --are handed down at theirbirth from the brain to the commercial travellers who are employed tospread them discreetly, "urbi et orbi, " through Paris and theprovinces, seasoned with the fried pork of advertisement andprospectus, by means of which they catch in their rat-trap thedepartmental rodent commonly called subscriber, sometimes stockholder, occasionally corresponding member or patron, but invariably fool. 

"I am a fool!" many a poor country proprietor has said when, caught bythe prospect of being the first to launch a new idea, he finds that hehas, in point of fact, launched his thousand or twelve hundred francsinto a gulf. 

"Subscribers are fools who never can be brought to understand that togo ahead in the intellectual world they must start with more moneythan they need for the tour of Europe, " say the speculators. 

Consequently there is endless warfare between the recalcitrant publicwhich refuses to pay the Parisian imposts and the tax-gatherer who, living by his receipt of custom, lards the public with new ideas, turns it on the spit of lively projects, roasts it with prospectuses(basting all the while with flattery), and finally gobbles it up withsome toothsome sauce in which it is caught and intoxicated like a flywith a black-lead. Moreover, since 1830 what honors and emolumentshave been scattered throughout France to stimulate the zeal andself-love of the "progressive and intelligent masses"! Titles, medals, diplomas, a sort of legion of honor invented for the army of martyrs, have followed each other with marvellous rapidity. Speculators in themanufactured products of the intellect have developed a spice, aginger, all their own. From this have come premiums, forestalleddividends, and that conscription of noted names which is leviedwithout the knowledge of the unfortunate writers who bear them, andwho thus find themselves actual co-operators in more enterprises thanthere are days in the year; for the law, we may remark, takes noaccount of the theft of a patronymic. Worse than all is the rapeof ideas which these caterers for the public mind, like theslave-merchants of Asia, tear from the paternal brain before they arewell matured, and drag half-clothed before the eyes of their blockheadof a sultan, their Shahabaham, their terrible public, which, if theydon't amuse it, will cut off their heads by curtailing the ingots andemptying their pockets. 

This madness of our epoch reacted upon the illustrious Gaudissart, andhere follows the history of how it happened. A life-insurance companyhaving been told of his irresistible eloquence offered him anunheard-of commission, which he graciously accepted. The bargainconcluded and the treaty signed, our traveller was put in training, orwe might say weaned, by the secretary-general of the enterprise, whofreed his mind of its swaddling-clothes, showed him the dark holes ofthe business, taught him its dialect, took the mechanism apart bit bybit, dissected for his instruction the particular public he wasexpected to gull, crammed him with phrases, fed him with impromptureplies, provisioned him with unanswerable arguments, and, so to speak, sharpened the file of the tongue which was about to operate upon thelife of France. 

The puppet amply rewarded the pains bestowed upon him. The heads ofthe company boasted of the illustrious Gaudissart, showed him suchattention and proclaimed the great talents of this perambulatingprospectus so loudly in the sphere of exalted banking and commercialdiplomacy, that the financial managers of two newspapers (celebratedat that time but since defunct) were seized with the idea of employinghim to get subscribers. The proprietors of the "Globe, " an organ ofSaint-Simonism, and the "Movement, " a republican journal, each invitedthe illustrious Gaudissart to a conference, and proposed to give himten francs a head for every subscriber, provided he brought in athousand, but only five francs if he got no more than five hundred. The cause of political journalism not interfering with thepre-accepted cause of life insurance, the bargain was struck; althoughGaudissart demanded an indemnity from the Saint-Simonians for theeight days he was forced to spend in studying the doctrines of theirapostle, asserting that a prodigious effort of memory and intellectwas necessary to get to the bottom of that "article" and to reasonupon it suitably. He asked nothing, however, from the republicans. Inthe first place, he inclined in republican ideas, --the only ones, according to guadissardian philosophy, which could bring about arational equality. Besides which he had already dipped into theconspiracies of the French "carbonari"; he had been arrested, andreleased for want of proof; and finally, as he called the newspaperproprietors to observe, he had lately grown a mustache, and neededonly a hat of certain shape and a pair of spurs to represent, with duepropriety, the Republic. 

 CHAPTER II

For one whole week this commanding genius went every morning to beSaint-Simonized at the office of the "Globe, " and every afternoon hebetook himself to the life-insurance company, where he learned theintricacies of financial diplomacy. His aptitude and his memory wereprodigious; so that he was able to start on his peregrinations by the15th of April, the date at which he usually opened the springcampaign. Two large commercial houses, alarmed at the decline ofbusiness, implored the ambitious Gaudissart not to desert the articleParis, and seduced him, it was said, with large offers, to take theircommissions once more. The king of travellers was amenable to theclaims of his old friends, enforced as they were by the enormouspremiums offered to him. 

 * * * * *

"Listen, my little Jenny, " he said in a hackney-coach to a prettyflorist. 

All truly great men delight in allowing themselves to be tyrannizedover by a feeble being, and Gaudissart had found his tyrant in Jenny. He was bringing her home at eleven o'clock from the Gymnase, whitherhe had taken her, in full dress, to a proscenium box on the firsttier. 

"On my return, Jenny, I shall refurnish your room in superior style. That big Matilda, who pesters you with comparisons and her real Indiashawls imported by the suite of the Russian ambassador, and her silverplate and her Russian prince, --who to my mind is nothing but a humbug, --won't have a word to say _then_. I consecrate to the adornment of yourroom all the 'Children' I shall get in the provinces. "

"Well, that's a pretty thing to say!" cried the florist. "Monster of aman! Do you dare to talk to me of your children? Do you suppose I amgoing to stand that sort of thing?"

"Oh, what a goose you are, my Jenny! That's only a figure of speech inour business. "

"A fine business, then!"

"Well, but listen; if you talk all the time you'll always be in theright. "

"I mean to be. Upon my word, you take things easy!"

"You don't let me finish. I have taken under my protection asuperlative idea, --a journal, a newspaper, written for children. Inour profession, when travellers have caught, let us suppose, tensubscribers to the 'Children's Journal, ' they say, 'I've got tenChildren, ' just as I say when I get ten subscriptions to a newspapercalled the 'Movement, ' 'I've got ten Movements. ' Now don't you see?"

"That's all right. Are you going into politics? If you do you'll getinto Saint-Pelagie, and I shall have to trot down there after you. Oh!if one only knew what one puts one's foot into when we love a man, onmy word of honor we would let you alone to take care of yourselves, you men! However, if you are going away to-morrow we won't talk ofdisagreeable things, --that would be silly. "

The coach stopped before a pretty house, newly built in the Rued'Artois, where Gaudissart and Jenny climbed to the fourth story. Thiswas the abode of Mademoiselle Jenny Courand, commonly reported to beprivately married to the illustrious Gaudissart, a rumor which thatindividual did not deny. To maintain her supremacy, Jenny kept him tothe performance of innumerable small attentions, and threatenedcontinually to turn him off if he omitted the least of them. She nowordered him to write to her from every town, and render a minuteaccount of all his proceedings. 

"How many 'Children' will it take to furnish my chamber?" she asked, throwing off her shawl and sitting down by a good fire. 

"I get five sous for each subscriber. "

"Delightful! And is it with five sous that you expect to make me rich?Perhaps you are like the Wandering Jew with your pockets full ofmoney. "

"But, Jenny, I shall get a thousand 'Children. ' Just reflect thatchildren have never had a newspaper to themselves before. But what afool I am to try to explain matters to you, --you can't understand suchthings. "

"Can't I? Then tell me, --tell me, Gaudissart, if I'm such a goose whydo you love me?"

"Just because you are a goose, --a sublime goose! Listen, Jenny. Seehere, I am going to undertake the 'Globe, ' the 'Movement, ' the'Children, ' the insurance business, and some of my old articles Paris;instead of earning a miserable eight thousand a year, I'll bring backtwenty thousand at least from each trip. "

"Unlace me, Gaudissart, and do it right; don't tighten me. "

"Yes, truly, " said the traveller, complacently; "I shall become ashareholder in the newspapers, like Finot, one of my friends, the sonof a hatter, who now has thirty thousand francs income, and is goingto make himself a peer of France. When one thinks of that littlePopinot, --ah, mon Dieu! I forgot to tell you that Monsieur Popinot wasnamed minister of commerce yesterday. Why shouldn't I be ambitioustoo? Ha! ha! I could easily pick up the jargon of those fellows whotalk in the chamber, and bluster with the rest of them. Now, listen tome:--

"Gentlemen, " he said, standing behind a chair, "the Press is neither atool nor an article of barter: it is, viewed under its politicalaspects, an institution. We are bound, in virtue of our position aslegislators, to consider all things politically, and therefore" (herehe stopped to get breath)--"and therefore we must examine the Pressand ask ourselves if it is useful or noxious, if it should beencouraged or put down, taxed or free. These are serious questions. Ifeel that I do not waste the time, always precious, of this Chamber byexamining this article--the Press--and explaining to you itsqualities. We are on the verge of an abyss. Undoubtedly the laws havenot the nap which they ought to have--Hein?" he said, looking atJenny. "All orators put France on the verge of an abyss. They eithersay that or they talk about the chariot of state, or convulsions, orpolitical horizons. Don't I know their dodges? I'm up to all thetricks of all the trades. Do you know why? Because I was born with acaul; my mother has got it, but I'll give it to you. You'll see! Ishall soon be in the government. "

"You!"

"Why shouldn't I be the Baron Gaudissart, peer of France? Haven't theytwice elected Monsieur Popinot as deputy from the fourtharrondissement? He dines with Louis Phillippe. There's Finot; he isgoing to be, they say, a member of the Council. Suppose they send meas ambassador to London? I tell you I'd nonplus those English! No manever got the better of Gaudissart, the illustrious Gaudissart, andnobody ever will. Yes, I say it! no one ever outwitted me, and no onecan--in any walk of life, politics or impolitics, here or elsewhere. But, for the time being, I must give myself wholly to the capitalists;to the 'Globe, ' the 'Movement, ' the 'Children, ' and my article Paris. "

"You will be brought up with a round turn, you and your newspapers. I'll bet you won't get further than Poitiers before the police willnab you. "

"What will you bet?"

"A shawl. "

"Done! If I lose that shawl I'll go back to the article Paris and thehat business. But as for getting the better of Gaudissart--never!never!"

And the illustrious traveller threw himself into position beforeJenny, looked at her proudly, one hand in his waistcoat, his head atthree-quarter profile, --an attitude truly Napoleonic. 

"Oh, how funny you are! what have you been eating to-night?"

Gaudissart was thirty-eight years of age, of medium height, stout andfat like men who roll about continually in stage-coaches, with a faceas round as a pumpkin, ruddy cheeks, and regular features of the typewhich sculptors of all lands adopt as a model for statues ofAbundance, Law, Force, Commerce, and the like. His protuberant stomachswelled forth in the shape of a pear; his legs were small, but activeand vigorous. He caught Jenny up in his arms like a baby and kissedher. 

"Hold your tongue, young woman!" he said. "What do you know aboutSaint-Simonism, antagonism, Fourierism, criticism, heroic enterprise, or woman's freedom? I'll tell you what they are, --ten francs for eachsubscription, Madame Gaudissart. "

"On my word of honor, you are going crazy, Gaudissart. "

"More and more crazy about _you_, " he replied, flinging his hat upon thesofa. 

The next morning Gaudissart, having breakfasted gloriously with Jenny, departed on horseback to work up the chief towns of the district towhich he was assigned by the various enterprises in whose interests hewas now about to exercise his great talents. After spending forty-fivedays in beating up the country between Paris and Blois, he remainedtwo weeks at the latter place to write up his correspondence and makeshort visits to the various market towns of the department. The nightbefore he left Blois for Tours he indited a letter to MademoiselleJenny Courand. As the conciseness and charm of this epistle cannot beequalled by any narration of ours, and as, moreover, it proves thelegitimacy of the tie which united these two individuals, we produceit here:--

 "My dear Jenny, --You will lose your wager. Like Napoleon, Gaudissart the illustrious has his star, but _not_ his Waterloo. I triumph everywhere. Life insurance has done well. Between Paris and Blois I lodged two millions. But as I get to the centre of France heads become infinitely harder and millions correspondingly scarce. The article Paris keeps up its own little jog-trot. It is a ring on the finger. With all my well-known cunning I spit these shop-keepers like larks. I got off one hundred and sixty-two Ternaux shawls at Orleans. I am sure I don't know what they will do with them, unless they return them to the backs of the sheep. 

 "As to the article journal--the devil! that's a horse of another color. Holy saints! how one has to warble before you can teach these bumpkins a new tune. I have only made sixty-two 'Movements': exactly a hundred less for the whole trip than the shawls in one town. Those republican rogues! they won't subscribe. They talk, they talk; they share your opinions, and presently you are all agreed that every existing thing must be overturned. You feel sure your man is going to subscribe. Not a bit of it! If he owns three feet of ground, enough to grow ten cabbages, or a few trees to slice into toothpicks, the fellow begins to talk of consolidated property, taxes, revenues, indemnities, --a whole lot of stuff, and I have wasted my time and breath on patriotism. It's a bad business! Candidly, the 'Movement' does not move. I have written to the directors and told them so. I am sorry for it--on account of my political opinions. 

 "As for the 'Globe, ' that's another breed altogether. Just set to work and talk new doctrines to people you fancy are fools enough to believe such lies, --why, they think you want to burn their houses down! It is vain for me to tell them that I speak for futurity, for posterity, for self-interest properly understood; for enterprise where nothing can be lost; that man has preyed upon man long enough; that woman is a slave; that the great providential thought should be made to triumph; that a way must be found to arrive at a rational co-ordination of the social fabric, --in short, the whole reverberation of my sentences. Well, what do you think? when I open upon them with such ideas these provincials lock their cupboards as if I wanted to steal their spoons and beg me to go away! Are not they fools? geese? The 'Globe' is smashed. I said to the proprietors, 'You are too advanced, you go ahead too fast: you ought to get a few results; the provinces like results. ' However, I have made a hundred 'Globes, ' and I must say, considering the thick-headedness of these clodhoppers, it is a miracle. But to do it I had to make them such a lot of promises that I am sure I don't know how the globites, globists, globules, or whatever they call themselves, will ever get out of them. But they always tell me they can make the world a great deal better than it is, so I go ahead and prophesy to the value of ten francs for each subscription. There was one farmer who thought the paper was agricultural because of its name. I Globed _him_. Bah! he gave in at once; he had a projecting forehead; all men with projecting foreheads are ideologists. 

 "But the 'Children'; oh! ah! as to the 'Children'! I got two thousand between Paris and Blois. Jolly business! but there is not much to say. You just show a little vignette to the mother, pretending to hide it from the child: naturally the child wants to see, and pulls mamma's gown and cries for its newspaper, because 'Papa has _dot_ his. ' Mamma can't let her brat tear the gown; the gown costs thirty francs, the subscription six--economy; result, subscription. It is an excellent thing, meets an actual want; it holds a place between dolls and sugar-plums, the two eternal necessities of childhood. 

 "I have had a quarrel here at the table d'hote about the newspapers and my opinions. I was unsuspiciously eating my dinner next to a man with a gray hat who was reading the 'Debats. ' I said to myself, 'Now for my rostrum eloquence. He is tied to the dynasty; I'll cook him; this triumph will be capital practice for my ministerial talents. ' So I went to work and praised his 'Debats. ' Hein! if I didn't lead him along! Thread by thread, I began to net my man. I launched my four-horse phrases, and the F-sharp arguments, and all the rest of the cursed stuff. Everybody listened; and I saw a man who had July as plain as day on his mustache, just ready to nibble at a 'Movement. ' Well, I don't know how it was, but I unluckily let fall the word 'blockhead. ' Thunder! you should have seen my gray hat, my dynastic hat (shocking bad hat, anyhow), who got the bit in his teeth and was furiously angry. I put on my grand air--you know--and said to him: 'Ah, ca! Monsieur, you are remarkably aggressive; if you are not content, I am ready to give you satisfaction; I fought in July. ' 'Though the father of a family, ' he replied, 'I am ready--' 'Father of a family!' I exclaimed; 'my dear sir, have you any children?' 'Yes. ' 'Twelve years old?' 'Just about. ' 'Well, then, the "Children's Journal" is the very thing for you; six francs a year, one number a month, double columns, edited by great literary lights, well got up, good paper, engravings from charming sketches by our best artists, actual colored drawings of the Indies--will not fade. ' I fired my broadside 'feelings of a father, etc. , etc. , '--in short, a subscription instead of a quarrel. 'There's nobody but Gaudissart who can get out of things like that, ' said that little cricket Lamard to the big Bulot at the cafe, when he told him the story. 

 "I leave to-morrow for Amboise. I shall do up Amboise in two days, and I will write next from Tours, where I shall measure swords with the inhabitants of that colorless region; colorless, I mean, from the intellectual and speculative point of view. But, on the word of a Gaudissart, they shall be toppled over, toppled down --floored, I say. 

 "Adieu, my kitten. Love me always; be faithful; fidelity through thick and thin is one of the attributes of the Free Woman. Who is kissing you on the eyelids?

"Thy Felix Forever. "

 CHAPTER III

Five days later Gaudissart started from the Hotel des Faisans, atwhich he had put up in Tours, and went to Vouvray, a rich and populousdistrict where the public mind seemed to him susceptible ofcultivation. Mounted upon his horse, he trotted along the embankmentthinking no more of his phrases than an actor thinks of his part whichhe has played for a hundred times. It was thus that the illustriousGaudissart went his cheerful way, admiring the landscape, and littledreaming that in the happy valleys of Vouvray his commercialinfallibility was about to perish. 

Here a few remarks upon the public mind of Touraine are essential toour story. The subtle, satirical, epigrammatic tale-telling spiritstamped on every page of Rabelais is the faithful expression of theTourangian mind, --a mind polished and refined as it should be in aland where the kings of France long held their court; ardent, artistic, poetic, voluptuous, yet whose first impulses subsidequickly. The softness of the atmosphere, the beauty of the climate, acertain ease of life and joviality of manners, smother before long thesentiment of art, narrow the widest heart, and enervate the strongestwill. Transplant the Tourangian, and his fine qualities develop andlead to great results, as we may see in many spheres of action: lookat Rabelais and Semblancay, Plantin the printer and Descartes, Boucicault, the Napoleon of his day, and Pinaigrier, who painted mostof the colored glass in our cathedrals; also Verville and Courier. Butthe Tourangian, distinguished though he may be in other regions, sitsin his own home like an Indian on his mat or a Turk on his divan. Heemploys his wit in laughing at his neighbor and in making merry allhis days; and when at last he reaches the end of his life, he is stilla happy man. Touraine is like the Abbaye of Theleme, so vaunted in thehistory of Gargantua. There we may find the complying sisterhoods ofthat famous tale, and there the good cheer celebrated by Rabelaisreigns in glory. 

As to the do-nothingness of that blessed land it is sublime and wellexpressed in a certain popular legend: "Tourangian, are you hungry, doyou want some soup?" "Yes. " "Bring your porringer. " "Then I am nothungry. " Is it to the joys of the vineyard and the harmoniousloveliness of this garden land of France, is it to the peace andtranquillity of a region where the step of an invader has nevertrodden, that we owe the soft compliance of these unconstrained andeasy manners? To such questions no answer. Enter this Turkey of sunnyFrance, and you will stay there, --lazy, idle, happy. You may be asambitious as Napoleon, as poetic as Lord Byron, and yet a powerunknown, invisible, will compel you to bury your poetry within yoursoul and turn your projects into dreams. 

The illustrious Gaudissart was fated to encounter here in Vouvray oneof those indigenous jesters whose jests are not intolerable solelybecause they have reached the perfection of the mocking art. Right orwrong, the Tourangians are fond of inheriting from their parents. Consequently the doctrines of Saint-Simon were especially hated andvillified among them. In Touraine hatred and villification take theform of superb disdain and witty maliciousness worthy of the land ofgood stories and practical jokes, --a spirit which, alas! is yielding, day by day, to that other spirit which Lord Byron has characterized as"English cant. "

For his sins, after getting down at the Soleil d'Or, an inn kept by aformer grenadier of the imperial guard named Mitouflet, married to arich widow, the illustrious traveller, after a brief consultation withthe landlord, betook himself to the knave of Vouvray, the jovialmerry-maker, the comic man of the neighborhood, compelled by fame andnature to supply the town with merriment. This country Figaro was oncea dyer, and now possessed about seven or eight thousand francs a year, a pretty house on the slope of the hill, a plump little wife, androbust health. For ten years he had had nothing to do but take care ofhis wife and his garden, marry his daughter, play whist in theevenings, keep the run of all the gossip in the neighborhood, meddlewith the elections, squabble with the large proprietors, and ordergood dinners; or else trot along the embankment to find out what wasgoing on in Tours, torment the cure, and finally, by way of dramaticentertainment, assist at the sale of lands in the neighborhood of hisvineyards. In short, he led the true Tourangian life, --the life of alittle country-townsman. He was, moreover, an important member of thebourgeoisie, --a leader among the small proprietors, all of themenvious, jealous, delighted to catch up and retail gossip andcalumnies against the aristocracy; dragging things down to their ownlevel; and at war with all kinds of superiority, which they depositedwith the fine composure of ignorance. Monsieur Vernier--such was thename of this great little man--was just finishing his breakfast, withhis wife and daughter on either side of him, when Gaudissart enteredthe room through a window that looked out on the Loire and the Cher, and lighted one of the gayest dining-rooms of that gay land. 

"Is this Monsieur Vernier himself?" said the traveller, bending hisvertebral column with such grace that it seemed to be elastic. 

"Yes, Monsieur, " said the mischievous ex-dyer, with a scrutinizinglook which took in the style of man he had to deal with. 

"I come, Monsieur, " resumed Gaudissart, "to solicit the aid of yourknowledge and insight to guide my efforts in this district, whereMitouflet tells me you have the greatest influence. Monsieur, I amsent into the provinces on an enterprise of the utmost importance, undertaken by bankers who--"

"Who mean to win our tricks, " said Vernier, long used to the ways ofcommercial travellers and to their periodical visits. 

"Precisely, " replied Gaudissart, with native impudence. "But with yourfine tact, Monsieur, you must be aware that we can't win tricks frompeople unless it is their interest to play at cards. I beg you not toconfound me with the vulgar herd of travellers who succeed by humbugor importunity. I am no longer a commercial traveller. I was one, andI glory in it; but to-day my mission is of higher importance, andshould place me, in the minds of superior people, among those whodevote themselves to the enlightenment of their country. The mostdistinguished bankers in Paris take part in this affair; notfictitiously, as in some shameful speculations which I call rat-traps. No, no, nothing of the kind! I should never condescend--never!--tohawk about such _catch-fools_. No, Monsieur; the most respectable housesin Paris are concerned in this enterprise; and their interestsguarantee--"

Hereupon Gaudissart drew forth his whole string of phrases, andMonsieur Vernier let him go the length of his tether, listening withapparent interest which completely deceived him. But after the word"guarantee" Vernier paid no further attention to our traveller'srhetoric, and turned over in his mind how to play him some malicioustrick and deliver a land, justly considered half-savage by speculatorsunable to get a bite of it, from the inroads of these Parisiancaterpillars. 

At the head of an enchanting valley, called the Valley Coquettebecause of its windings and the curves which return upon each other atevery step, and seem more and more lovely as we advance, whether weascend or descend them, there lived, in a little house surrounded byvineyards, a half-insane man named Margaritis. He was of Italianorigin, married, but childless; and his wife took care of him with acourage fully appreciated by the neighborhood. Madame Margaritis wasundoubtedly in real danger from a man who, among other fancies, persisted in carrying about with him two long-bladed knives with whichhe sometimes threatened her. Who has not seen the wonderfulself-devotion shown by provincials who consecrate their lives to thecare of sufferers, possibly because of the disgrace heaped upon abourgeoise if she allows her husband or children to be taken to apublic hospital? Moreover, who does not know the repugnance whichthese people feel to the payment of the two or three thousand francsrequired at Charenton or in the private lunatic asylums? If any onehad spoken to Madame Margaritis of Doctors Dubuisson, Esquirol, Blanche, and others, she would have preferred, with noble indignation, to keep her thousands and take care of the "good-man" at home. 

As the incomprehensible whims of this lunatic are connected with thecurrent of our story, we are compelled to exhibit the most striking ofthem. Margaritis went out as soon as it rained, and walked aboutbare-headed in his vineyard. At home he made incessant inquiries fornewspapers; to satisfy him his wife and the maid-servant used to givehim an old journal called the "Indre-et-Loire, " and for seven years hehad never yet perceived that he was reading the same number over andover again. Perhaps a doctor would have observed with interest theconnection that evidently existed between the recurring and spasmodicdemands for the newspaper and the atmospheric variations of theweather. 

Usually when his wife had company, which happened nearly everyevening, for the neighbors, pitying her situation, would frequentlycome to play at boston in her salon, Margaritis remained silent in acorner and never stirred. But the moment ten o'clock began to strikeon a clock which he kept shut up in a large oblong closet, he rose atthe stroke with the mechanical precision of the figures which are madeto move by springs in the German toys. He would then advance slowlytowards the players, give them a glance like the automatic gaze of theGreeks and Turks exhibited on the Boulevard du Temple, and saysternly, "Go away!" There were days when he had lucid intervals andcould give his wife excellent advice as to the sale of their wines;but at such times he became extremely annoying, and would ransack herclosets and steal her delicacies, which he devoured in secret. Occasionally, when the usual visitors made their appearance he wouldtreat them with civility; but as a general thing his remarks andreplies were incoherent. For instance, a lady once asked him, "How doyou feel to-day, Monsieur Margaritis?" "I have grown a beard, " hereplied, "have you?" "Are you better?" asked another. "Jerusalem!Jerusalem!" was the answer. But the greater part of the time he gazedstolidly at his guests without uttering a word; and then his wifewould say, "The good-man does not hear anything to-day. "

On two or three occasions in the course of five years, and usuallyabout the time of the equinox, this remark had driven him to frenzy;he flourished his knives and shouted, "That joke dishonors me!"

As for his daily life, he ate, drank, and walked about like other menin sound health; and so it happened that he was treated with about thesame respect and attention that we give to a heavy piece of furniture. Among his many absurdities was one of which no man had as yetdiscovered the object, although by long practice the wiseheads of thecommunity had learned to unravel the meaning of most of his vagaries. He insisted on keeping a sack of flour and two puncheons of wine inthe cellar of his house, and he would allow no one to lay hands onthem. But then the month of June came round he grew uneasy with therestless anxiety of a madman about the sale of the sack and thepuncheons. Madame Margaritis could nearly always persuade him that thewine had been sold at an enormous price, which she paid over to him, and which he hid so cautiously that neither his wife nor the servantwho watched him had ever been able to discover its hiding-place. 

The evening before Gaudissart reached Vouvray Madame Margaritis hadhad more difficulty than usual in deceiving her husband, whose mindhappened to be uncommonly lucid. 

"I really don't know how I shall get through to-morrow, " she had saidto Madame Vernier. "Would you believe it, the good-man insists onwatching his two casks of wine. He has worried me so this whole day, that I had to show him two full puncheons. Our neighbor, PierreChamplain, fortunately had two which he had not sold. I asked him tokindly let me have them rolled into our cellar; and oh, dear! now thatthe good-man has seen them he insists on bottling them off himself!"

Madame Vernier had related the poor woman's trouble to her husbandjust before the entrance of Gaudissart, and at the first words of thefamous traveller Vernier determined that he should be made to grapplewith Margaritis. 

"Monsieur, " said the ex-dyer, as soon as the illustrious Gaudissarthad fired his first broadside, "I will not hide from you the greatdifficulties which my native place offers to your enterprise. Thispart of the country goes along, as it were, in the rough, --'suo modo. 'It is a country where new ideas don't take hold. We live as ourfathers lived, we amuse ourselves with four meals a day, and wecultivate our vineyards and sell our wines to the best advantage. Ourbusiness principle is to sell things for more than they cost us; weshall stick in that rut, and neither God nor the devil can get us outof it. I will, however, give you some advice, and good advice is anegg in the hand. There is in this town a retired banker in whosewisdom I have--I, particularly--the greatest confidence. If you canobtain his support, I will add mine. If your proposals have realmerit, if we are convinced of the advantage of your enterprise, theapproval of Monsieur Margaritis (which carries with it mine) will opento you at least twenty rich houses in Vouvray who will be glad to tryyour specifics. "

When Madame Vernier heard the name of the lunatic she raised her headand looked at her husband. 

"Ah, precisely; my wife intends to call on Madame Margaritis with oneof our neighbors. Wait a moment, and you can accompany these ladies--You can pick up Madame Fontanieu on your way, " said the wily dyer, winking at his wife. 

To pick out the greatest gossip, the sharpest tongue, the mostinveterate cackler of the neighborhood! It meant that Madame Vernierwas to take a witness to the scene between the traveller and thelunatic which should keep the town in laughter for a month. Monsieurand Madame Vernier played their part so well that Gaudissart had nosuspicions, and straightway fell into the trap. He gallantly offeredhis arm to Madame Vernier, and believed that he made, as they wentalong, the conquest of both ladies, for those benefit he sparkled withwit and humor and undetected puns. 

The house of the pretended banker stood at the entrance to the ValleyCoquette. The place, called La Fuye, had nothing remarkable about it. On the ground floor was a large wainscoted salon, on either side ofwhich opened the bedroom of the good-man and that of his wife. Thesalon was entered from an ante-chamber, which served as thedining-room and communicated with the kitchen. This lower door, whichwas wholly without the external charm usually seen even in the humblestdwellings in Touraine, was covered by a mansard story, reached by astairway built on the outside of the house against the gable end andprotected by a shed-roof. A little garden, full of marigolds, syringas, and elder-bushes, separated the house from the fields; andall around the courtyard were detached buildings which were used inthe vintage season for the various processes of making wine. 

 CHAPTER IV

Margaritis was seated in an arm-chair covered with yellow Utrechtvelvet, near the window of the salon, and he did not stir as the twoladies entered with Gaudissart. His thoughts were running on the casksof wine. He was a spare man, and his bald head, garnished with a fewspare locks at the back of it, was pear-shaped in conformation. Hissunken eyes, overtopped by heavy black brows and surrounded bydiscolored circles, his nose, thin and sharp like the blade of aknife, the strongly marked jawbone, the hollow cheeks, and the oblongtendency of all these lines, together with his unnaturally long andflat chin, contributed to give a peculiar expression to hiscountenance, --something between that of a retired professor ofrhetoric and a rag-picker. 

"Monsieur Margaritis, " cried Madame Vernier, addressing him, "come, stir about! Here is a gentleman whom my husband sends to you, and youmust listen to him with great attention. Put away your mathematics andtalk to him. "

On hearing these words the lunatic rose, looked at Gaudissart, madehim a sign to sit down, and said, "Let us converse, Monsieur. "

The two women went into Madame Margaritis' bedroom, leaving the dooropen so as to hear the conversation, and interpose if it becamenecessary. They were hardly installed before Monsieur Vernier creptsoftly up through the field and, opening a window, got into thebedroom without noise. 

"Monsieur has doubtless been in business--?" began Gaudissart. 

"Public business, " answered Margaritis, interrupting him. "Ipacificated Calabria under the reign of King Murat. "

"Bless me! if he hasn't gone to Calabria!" whispered Monsieur Vernier. 

"In that case, " said Gaudissart, "we shall quickly understand eachother. "

"I am listening, " said Margaritis, striking the attitude taken by aman when he poses to a portrait-painter. 

"Monsieur, " said Gaudissart, who chanced to be turning his watch-keywith a rotatory and periodical click which caught the attention of thelunatic and contributed no doubt to keep him quiet. "Monsieur, if youwere not a man of superior intelligence" (the fool bowed), "I shouldcontent myself with merely laying before you the material advantagesof this enterprise, whose psychological aspects it would be a waste oftime to explain to you. Listen! Of all kinds of social wealth, is nottime the most precious? To economize time is, consequently, to becomewealthy. Now, is there anything that consumes so much time as thoseanxieties which I call 'pot-boiling'?--a vulgar expression, but itputs the whole question in a nutshell. For instance, what can eat upmore time than the inability to give proper security to persons fromwhom you seek to borrow money when, poor at the moment, you arenevertheless rich in hope?"

"Money, --yes, that's right, " said Margaritis. 

"Well, Monsieur, I am sent into the departments by a company ofbankers and capitalists, who have apprehended the enormous waste whichrising men of talent are thus making of time, and, consequently, ofintelligence and productive ability. We have seized the idea ofcapitalizing for such men their future prospects, and cashing theirtalents by discounting--what? _time_; securing the value of it to theirsurvivors. I may say that it is no longer a question of economizingtime, but of giving it a price, a quotation; of representing in apecuniary sense those products developed by time which presumably youpossess in the region of your intellect; of representing also themoral qualities with which you are endowed, and which are, Monsieur, living forces, --as living as a cataract, as a steam-engine of three, ten, twenty, fifty horse-power. Ha! this is progress! the movementonward to a better state of things; a movement born of the spirit ofour epoch; a movement essentially progressive, as I shall prove to youwhen we come to consider the principles involved in the logicalco-ordination of the social fabric. I will now explain my meaning byliteral examples, leaving aside all purely abstract reasoning, which Icall the mathematics of thought. Instead of being, as you are, aproprietor living upon your income, let us suppose that you arepainter, a musician, an artist, or a poet--"

"I am a painter, " said the lunatic. 

"Well, so be it. I see you take my metaphor. You are a painter; youhave a glorious future, a rich future before you. But I go stillfarther--"

At these words the madman looked anxiously at Gaudissart, thinking hemeant to go away; but was reassured when he saw that he kept his seat. 

"You may even be nothing at all, " said Gaudissart, going on with hisphrases, "but you are conscious of yourself; you feel yourself--"

"I feel myself, " said the lunatic. 

"--you feel yourself a great man; you say to yourself, 'I will be aminister of state. ' Well, then, you--painter, artist, man of letters, statesman of the future--you reckon upon your talents, you estimatetheir value, you rate them, let us say, at a hundred thousandcrowns--"

"Do you give me a hundred thousand crowns?"

"Yes, Monsieur, as you will see. Either your heirs and assigns willreceive them if you die, for the company contemplates that event, oryou will receive them in the long run through your works of art, yourwritings, or your fortunate speculations during your lifetime. But, asI have already had the honor to tell you, when you have once fixedupon the value of your intellectual capital, --for it is intellectualcapital, --seize that idea firmly, --intellectual--"

"I understand, " said the fool. 

"You sign a policy of insurance with a company which recognizes in youa value of a hundred thousand crowns; in you, poet--"

"I am a painter, " said the lunatic. 

"Yes, " resumed Gaudissart, --"painter, poet, musician, statesman--andbinds itself to pay them over to your family, your heirs, if, byreason of your death, the hopes foundered on your intellectual capitalshould be overthrown for you personally. The payment of the premium isall that is required to protect--"

"The money-box, " said the lunatic, sharply interrupting him. 

"Ah! naturally; yes. I see that Monsieur understands business. "

"Yes, " said the madman. "I established the Territorial Bank in the Ruedes Fosses-Montmartre at Paris in 1798. "

"For, " resumed Gaudissart, going back to his premium, "in order tomeet the payments on the intellectual capital which each manrecognizes and esteems in himself, it is of course necessary that eachshould pay a certain premium, three per cent; an annual due of threeper cent. Thus, by the payment of this trifling sum, a mere nothing, you protect your family from disastrous results at your death--"

"But I live, " said the fool. 

"Ah! yes; you mean if you should live long? That is the usualobjection, --a vulgar prejudice. I fully agree that if we had notforeseen and demolished it we might feel we were unworthy of being--what? What are we, after all? Book-keepers in the great Bureau ofIntellect. Monsieur, I don't apply these remarks to you, but I meet onall sides men who make it a business to teach new ideas and disclosechains of reasoning to people who turn pale at the first word. On myword of honor, it is pitiable! But that's the way of the world, and Idon't pretend to reform it. Your objection, Monsieur, is really sheernonsense. "

"Why?" asked the lunatic. 

"Why?--this is why: because, if you live and possess the qualitieswhich are estimated in your policy against the chances of death, --now, attend to this--"

"I am attending. "

"Well, then, you have succeeded in life; and you have succeededbecause of the said insurance. You doubled your chances of success bygetting rid of the anxieties you were dragging about with you in theshape of wife and children who might otherwise be left destitute atyour death. If you attain this certainty, you have touched the valueof your intellectual capital, on which the cost of insurance is but atrifle, --a mere trifle, a bagatelle. "

"That's a fine idea!"

"Ah! is it not, Monsieur?" cried Gaudissart. "I call this enterprisethe exchequer of beneficence; a mutual insurance against poverty; or, if you like it better, the discounting, the cashing, of talent. Fortalent, Monsieur, is a bill of exchange which Nature gives to the manof genius, and which often has a long time to run before it fallsdue. "

"That is usury!" cried Margaritis. 

"The devil! he's keen, the old fellow! I've made a mistake, " thoughtGaudissart, "I must catch him with other chaff. I'll try humbug No. 1. Not at all, " he said aloud, "for you who--"

"Will you take a glass of wine?" asked Margaritis. 

"With pleasure, " replied Gaudissart. 

"Wife, give us a bottle of the wine that is in the puncheons. You arehere at the very head of Vouvray, " he continued, with a gesture of thehand, "the vineyard of Margaritis. "

The maid-servant brought glasses and a bottle of wine of the vintageof 1819. The good-man filled a glass with circumspection and offeredit to Gaudissart, who drank it up. 

"Ah, you are joking, Monsieur!" exclaimed the commercial traveller. "Surely this is Madeira, true Madeira?"

"So you think, " said the fool. "The trouble with our Vouvray wine isthat it is neither a common wine, nor a wine that can be drunk withthe entremets. It is too generous, too strong. It is often sold inParis adulterated with brandy and called Madeira. The wine-merchantsbuy it up, when our vintage has not been good enough for the Dutch andBelgian markets, to mix it with wines grown in the neighborhood ofParis, and call it Bordeaux. But what you are drinking just now, mygood Monsieur, is a wine for kings, the pure Head of Vouvray, --that'sit's name. I have two puncheons, only two puncheons of it left. Peoplewho like fine wines, high-class wines, who furnish their table withqualities that can't be bought in the regular trade, --and there aremany persons in Paris who have that vanity, --well, such people senddirect to us for this wine. Do you know any one who--?"

"Let us go on with what we were saying, " interposed Gaudissart. 

"We are going on, " said the fool. "My wine is capital; you arecapital, capitalist, intellectual capital, capital wine, --all the sameetymology, don't you see? hein? Capital, 'caput, ' head, Head ofVouvray, that's my wine, --it's all one thing. "

"So that you have realized your intellectual capital through yourwines? Ah, I see!" said Gaudissart. 

"I have realized, " said the lunatic. "Would you like to buy mypuncheons? you shall have them on good terms. "

"No, I was merely speaking, " said the illustrious Gaudissart, "of theresults of insurance and the employment of intellectual capital. Iwill resume my argument. "

The lunatic calmed down, and fell once more into position. 

"I remarked, Monsieur, that if you die the capital will be paid toyour family without discussion. "

"Without discussion?"

"Yes, unless there were suicide. "

"That's quibbling. "

"No, Monsieur; you are aware that suicide is one of those acts whichare easy to prove--"

"In France, " said the fool; "but--"

"But in other countries?" said Gaudissart. "Well, Monsieur, to cutshort discussion on this point, I will say, once for all, that deathin foreign countries or on the field of battle is outside of our--"

"Then what are you insuring? Nothing at all!" cried Margaritis. "Mybank, my Territorial Bank, rested upon--"

"Nothing at all?" exclaimed Gaudissart, interrupting the good-man. "Nothing at all? What do you call sickness, and afflictions, andpoverty, and passions? Don't go off on exceptional points. "

"No, no! no points, " said the lunatic. 

"Now, what's the result of all this?" cried Gaudissart. "To you, abanker, I can sum up the profits in a few words. Listen. A man lives;he has a future; he appears well; he lives, let us say, by his art; hewants money; he tries to get it, --he fails. Civilization withholdscash from this man whose thought could master civilization, and oughtto master it, and will master it some day with a brush, a chisel, withwords, ideas, theories, systems. Civilization is atrocious! It deniesbread to the men who give it luxury. It starves them on sneers andcurses, the beggarly rascal! My words may be strong, but I shall notretract them. Well, this great but neglected man comes to us; werecognize his greatness; we salute him with respect; we listen to him. He says to us: 'Gentlemen, my life and talents are worth so much; onmy productions I will pay you such or such percentage. ' Very good;what do we do? Instantly, without reserve or hesitation, we admit himto the great festivals of civilization as an honored guest--"

"You need wine for that, " interposed the madman. 

"--as an honored guest. He signs the insurance policy; he takes ourbits of paper, --scraps, rags, miserable rags!--which, nevertheless, have more power in the world than his unaided genius. Then, if hewants money, every one will lend it to him on those rags. At theBourse, among bankers, wherever he goes, even at the usurers, he willfind money because he can give security. Well, Monsieur, is not that agreat gulf to bridge over in our social system? But that is only oneaspect of our work. We insure debtors by another scheme of policiesand premiums. We offer annuities at rates graduated according to ages, on a sliding-scale infinitely more advantageous than what are calledtontines, which are based on tables of mortality that are notoriouslyfalse. Our company deals with large masses of men; consequently theannuitants are secure from those distressing fears which sadden oldage, --too sad already!--fears which pursue those who receive annuitiesfrom private sources. You see, Monsieur, that we have estimated lifeunder all its aspects. "

"Sucked it at both ends, " said the lunatic. "Take another glass ofwine. You've earned it. You must line your inside with velvet if youare going to pump at it like that every day. Monsieur, the wine ofVouvray, if well kept, is downright velvet. "

"Now, what do you think of it all?" said Gaudissart, emptying hisglass. 

"It is very fine, very new, very useful; but I like the discounts Iget at my Territorial Bank, Rue des Fosses-Montmartre. "

"You are quite right, Monsieur, " answered Gaudissart; "but that sortof thing is taken and retaken, made and remade, every day. You havealso hypothecating banks which lend upon landed property and redeem iton a large scale. But that is a narrow idea compared to our system ofconsolidating hopes, --consolidating hopes! coagulating, so to speak, the aspirations born in every soul, and insuring the realization ofour dreams. It needed our epoch, Monsieur, the epoch of transition--transition and progress--"

"Yes, progress, " muttered the lunatic, with his glass at his lips. "Ilike progress. That is what I've told them many times--"

"The 'Times'!" cried Gaudissart, who did not catch the whole sentence. "The 'Times' is a bad newspaper. If you read that, I am sorry foryou. "

"The newspaper!" cried Margaritis. "Of course! Wife! wife! where isthe newspaper?" he cried, going towards the next room. 

"If you are interested in newspapers, " said Gaudissart, changing hisattack, "we are sure to understand each other. "

"Yes; but before we say anything about that, tell me what you think ofthis wine. "

"Delicious!"

"Then let us finish the bottle. " The lunatic poured out a thimblefulfor himself and filled Gaudissart's glass. "Well, Monsieur, I have twopuncheons left of the same wine; if you find it good we can come toterms. "

"Exactly, " said Gaudissart. "The fathers of the Saint-Simonian faithhave authorized me to send them all the commodities I--But allow me totell you about their noble newspaper. You, who have understood thewhole question of insurance so thoroughly, and who are willing toassist my work in this district--"

"Yes, " said Margaritis, "if--"

"If I take your wine; I understand perfectly. Your wine is very good, Monsieur; it puts the stomach in a glow. "

"They make champagne out of it; there is a man from Paris who comeshere and makes it in Tours. "

"I have no doubt of it, Monsieur. The 'Globe, ' of which we werespeaking--"

"Yes, I've gone over it, " said Margaritis. 

"I was sure of it!" exclaimed Gaudissart. "Monsieur, you have a finefrontal development; a pate--excuse the word--which our gentlemen call'horse-head. ' There's a horse element in the head of every great man. Genius will make itself known; but sometimes it happens that greatmen, in spite of their gifts, remain obscure. Such was very nearly thecase with Saint-Simon; also with Monsieur Vico, --a strong man justbeginning to shoot up; I am proud of Vico. Now, here we enter upon thenew theory and formula of humanity. Attention, if you please. "

"Attention!" said the fool, falling into position. 

"Man's spoliation of man--by which I mean bodies of men living uponthe labor of other men--ought to have ceased with the coming ofChrist, I say _Christ_, who was sent to proclaim the equality of man inthe sight of God. But what is the fact? Equality up to our day hasbeen an 'ignus fatuus, ' a chimera. Saint-Simon has arisen as thecomplement of Christ; as the modern exponent of the doctrine ofequality, or rather of its practice, for theory has served its time--"

"Is he liberated?" asked the lunatic. 

"Like liberalism, it has had its day. There is a nobler future beforeus: a new faith, free labor, free growth, free production, individualprogress, a social co-ordination in which each man shall receive thefull worth of his individual labor, in which no man shall be preyedupon by other men who, without capacity of their own, compel _all_ towork for the profit of _one_. From this comes the doctrine of--"

"How about servants?" demanded the lunatic. 

"They will remain servants if they have no capacity beyond it. "

"Then what's the good of your doctrine?"

"To judge of this doctrine, Monsieur, you must consider it from ahigher point of view: you must take a general survey of humanity. Herewe come to the theories of Ballance: do you know his Palingenesis?"

"I am fond of them, " said the fool, who thought he said "ices. "

"Good!" returned Gaudissart. "Well, then, if the palingenistic aspectsof the successive transformations of the spiritualized globe havestruck, stirred, roused you, then, my dear sir, the 'Globe' newspaper, --noble name which proclaims its mission, --the 'Globe' is an organ, aguide, who will explain to you with the coming of each day theconditions under which this vast political and moral change will beeffected. The gentlemen who--"

"Do they drink wine?"

"Yes, Monsieur; their houses are kept up in the highest style; I maysay, in prophetic style. Superb salons, large receptions, the apex ofsocial life--"

"Well, " remarked the lunatic, "the workmen who pull things down wantwine as much as those who put things up. "

"True, " said the illustrious Gaudissart, "and all the more, Monsieur, when they pull down with one hand and build up with the other, likethe apostles of the 'Globe. '"

"They want good wine; Head of Vouvray, two puncheons, three hundredbottles, only one hundred francs, --a trifle. "

"How much is that a bottle?" said Gaudissart, calculating. "Let mesee; there's the freight and the duty, --it will come to about sevensous. Why, it wouldn't be a bad thing: they give more for worse wines--(Good! I've got him!" thought Gaudissart, "he wants to sell me winewhich I want; I'll master him)--Well, Monsieur, " he continued, "thosewho argue usually come to an agreement. Let us be frank with eachother. You have great influence in this district--"

"I should think so!" said the madman; "I am the Head of Vouvray!"

"Well, I see that you thoroughly comprehend the insurance ofintellectual capital--"

"Thoroughly. "

"--and that you have measured the full importance of the 'Globe'--"

"Twice; on foot. "

Gaudissart was listening to himself and not to the replies of hishearer. 

"Therefore, in view of your circumstances and of your age, I quiteunderstand that you have no need of insurance for yourself; but, Monsieur, you might induce others to insure, either because of theirinherent qualities which need development, or for the protection oftheir families against a precarious future. Now, if you will subscribeto the 'Globe, ' and give me your personal assistance in this districton behalf of insurance, especially life-annuity, --for the provincesare much attached to annuities--Well, if you will do this, then we cancome to an understanding about the wine. Will you take the 'Globe'?"

"I stand on the globe. "

"Will you advance its interests in this district?"

"I advance. "

"And?"

"And--"

"And I--but you do subscribe, don't you, to the 'Globe'?"

"The globe, good thing, for life, " said the lunatic. 

"For life, Monsieur?--ah, I see! yes, you are right: it is full oflife, vigor, intellect, science, --absolutely crammed with science, --well printed, clear type, well set up; what I call 'good nap. ' Noneof your botched stuff, cotton and wool, trumpery; flimsy rubbish thatrips if you look at it. It is deep; it states questions on which youcan meditate at your leisure; it is the very thing to make time passagreeably in the country. "

"That suits me, " said the lunatic. 

"It only costs a trifle, --eighty francs. "

"That won't suit me, " said the lunatic. 

"Monsieur!" cried Gaudissart, "of course you have got grandchildren?There's the 'Children's Journal'; that only costs seven francs ayear. "

"Very good; take my wine, and I will subscribe to the children. Thatsuits me very well: a fine idea! intellectual product, child. That'sman living upon man, hein?"

"You've hit it, Monsieur, " said Gaudissart. 

"I've hit it!"

"You consent to push me in the district?"

"In the district. "

"I have your approbation?"

"You have it. "

"Well, then, Monsieur, I take your wine at a hundred francs--"

"No, no! hundred and ten--"

"Monsieur! A hundred and ten for the company, but a hundred to me. Ienable you to make a sale; you owe me a commission. "

"Charge 'em a hundred and twenty, "--"cent vingt" ("sans vin, " withoutwine). 

"Capital pun that!"

"No, puncheons. About that wine--"

"Better and better! why, you are a wit. "

"Yes, I'm that, " said the fool. "Come out and see my vineyards. "

"Willingly, the wine is getting into my head, " said the illustriousGaudissart, following Monsieur Margaritis, who marched him from row torow and hillock to hillock among the vines. The three ladies andMonsieur Vernier, left to themselves, went off into fits of laughteras they watched the traveller and the lunatic discussing, gesticulating, stopping short, resuming their walk, and talkingvehemently. 

"I wish the good-man hadn't carried him off, " said Vernier. 

Finally the pair returned, walking with the eager step of men who werein haste to finish up a matter of business. 

"He has got the better of the Parisian, damn him!" cried Vernier. 

And so it was. To the huge delight of the lunatic our illustriousGaudissart sat down at a card-table and wrote an order for thedelivery of the two casks of wine. Margaritis, having carefully readit over, counted out seven francs for his subscription to the"Children's Journal" and gave them to the traveller. 

"Adieu until to-morrow, Monsieur, " said Gaudissart, twisting hiswatch-key. "I shall have the honor to call for you to-morrow. Meantime, send the wine at once to Paris to the address I have givenyou, and the price will be remitted immediately. "

Gaudissart, however, was a Norman, and he had no idea of making anyagreement which was not reciprocal. He therefore required his promisedsupporter to sign a bond (which the lunatic carefully read over) todeliver two puncheons of the wine called "Head of Vouvray, " vineyardof Margaritis. 

This done, the illustrious Gaudissart departed in high feather, humming, as he skipped along, --

 "The King of the South, He burned his mouth, " etc. 

 CHAPTER V

The illustrious Gaudissart returned to the Soleil d'Or, where henaturally conversed with the landlord while waiting for dinner. Mitouflet was an old soldier, guilelessly crafty, like the peasantryof the Loire; he never laughed at a jest, but took it with the gravityof a man accustomed to the roar of cannon and to make his own jokesunder arms. 

"You have some very strong-minded people here, " said Gaudissart, leaning against the door-post and lighting his cigar at Mitouflet'spipe. 

"How do you mean?" asked Mitouflet. 

"I mean people who are rough-shod on political and financial ideas. "

"Whom have you seen? if I may ask without indiscretion, " said thelandlord innocently, expectorating after the adroit and periodicalfashion of smokers. 

"A fine, energetic fellow named Margaritis. "

Mitouflet cast two glances in succession at his guest which wereexpressive of chilling irony. 

"May be; the good-man knows a deal. He knows too much for other folks, who can't always understand him. "

"I can believe it, for he thoroughly comprehends the abstruseprinciples of finance. "

"Yes, " said the innkeeper, "and for my part, I am sorry he is alunatic. "

"A lunatic! What do you mean?"

"Well, crazy, --cracked, as people are when they are insane, " answeredMitouflet. "But he is not dangerous; his wife takes care of him. Haveyou been arguing with him?" added the pitiless landlord; "that musthave been funny!"

"Funny!" cried Gaudissart. "Funny! Then your Monsieur Vernier has beenmaking fun of me!"

"Did he send you there?"

"Yes. "

"Wife! wife! come here and listen. If Monsieur Vernier didn't take itinto his head to send this gentleman to talk to Margaritis!"

"What in the world did you say to each other, my dear, good Monsieur?"said the wife. "Why, he's crazy!"

"He sold me two casks of wine. "

"Did you buy them?"

"Yes. "

"But that is his delusion; he thinks he sells his wine, and he hasn'tany. "

"Ha!" snorted the traveller, "then I'll go straight to MonsieurVernier and thank him. "

And Gaudissart departed, boiling over with rage, to shake the ex-dyer, whom he found in his salon, laughing with a company of friends to whomhe had already recounted the tale. 

"Monsieur, " said the prince of travellers, darting a savage glance athis enemy, "you are a scoundrel and a blackguard; and under pain ofbeing thought a turn-key, --a species of being far below agalley-slave, --you will give me satisfaction for the insult you daredto offer me in sending me to a man whom you knew to be a lunatic! Doyou hear me, Monsieur Vernier, dyer?"

Such was the harangue which Gaudissart prepared as he went along, as atragedian makes ready for his entrance on the scene. 

"What!" cried Vernier, delighted at the presence of an audience, "doyou think we have no right to make fun of a man who comes here, bagand baggage, and demands that we hand over our property because, forsooth, he is pleased to call us great men, painters, artists, poets, --mixing us up gratuitously with a set of fools who have neitherhouse nor home, nor sous nor sense? Why should we put up with a rascalwho comes here and wants us to feather his nest by subscribing to anewspaper which preaches a new religion whose first doctrine is, ifyou please, that we are not to inherit from our fathers and mothers?On my sacred word of honor, Pere Margaritis said things a great dealmore sensible. And now, what are you complaining about? You andMargaritis seemed to understand each other. The gentlemen here presentcan testify that if you had talked to the whole canton you couldn'thave been as well understood. "

"That's all very well for you to say; but I have been insulted, Monsieur, and I demand satisfaction!"

"Very good, Monsieur! consider yourself insulted, if you like. I shallnot give you satisfaction, because there is neither rhyme nor reasonnor satisfaction to be found in the whole business. What an absurdfool he is, to be sure!"

At these words Gaudissart flew at the dyer to give him a slap on theface, but the listening crowd rushed between them, so that theillustrious traveller only contrived to knock off the wig of hisenemy, which fell on the head of Mademoiselle Clara Vernier. 

"If you are not satisfied, Monsieur, " he said, "I shall be at theSoleil d'Or until to-morrow morning, and you will find me ready toshow you what it means to give satisfaction. I fought in July, Monsieur. "

"And you shall fight in Vouvray, " answered the dyer; "and what ismore, you shall stay here longer than you imagine. "

Gaudissart marched off, turning over in his mind this propheticremark, which seemed to him full of sinister portent. For the firsttime in his life the prince of travellers did not dine jovially. Thewhole town of Vouvray was put in a ferment about the "affair" betweenMonsieur Vernier and the apostle of Saint-Simonism. Never before hadthe tragic event of a duel been so much as heard of in that benign andhappy valley. 

"Monsieur Mitouflet, I am to fight to-morrow with Monsieur Vernier, "said Gaudissart to his landlord. "I know no one here: will you be mysecond?"

"Willingly, " said the host. 

Gaudissart had scarcely finished his dinner before Madame Fontanieuand the assistant-mayor of Vouvray came to the Soleil d'Or and tookMitouflet aside. They told him it would be a painful and injuriousthing to the whole canton if a violent death were the result of thisaffair; they represented the pitiable distress of Madame Vernier, andconjured him to find some way to arrange matters and save the creditof the district. 

"I take it all upon myself, " said the sagacious landlord. 

In the evening he went up to the traveller's room carrying pens, ink, and paper. 

"What have you got there?" asked Gaudissart. 

"If you are going to fight to-morrow, " answered Mitouflet, "you hadbetter make some settlement of your affairs; and perhaps you haveletters to write, --we all have beings who are dear to us. Writingdoesn't kill, you know. Are you a good swordsman? Would you like toget your hand in? I have some foils. "

"Yes, gladly. "

Mitouflet returned with foils and masks. 

"Now, then, let us see what you can do. "

The pair put themselves on guard. Mitouflet, with his former prowessas grenadier of the guard, made sixty-two passes at Gaudissart, pushedhim about right and left, and finally pinned him up against the wall. 

"The deuce! you are strong, " said Gaudissart, out of breath. 

"Monsieur Vernier is stronger than I am. "

"The devil! Damn it, I shall fight with pistols. "

"I advise you to do so; because, if you take large holster pistols andload them up to their muzzles, you can't risk anything. They are _sure_to fire wide of the mark, and both parties can retire from the fieldwith honor. Let me manage all that. Hein! 'sapristi, ' two brave menwould be arrant fools to kill each other for a joke. "

"Are you sure the pistols will carry _wide enough_? I should be sorryto kill the man, after all, " said Gaudissart. 

"Sleep in peace, " answered Mitouflet, departing. 

The next morning the two adversaries, more or less pale, met besidethe bridge of La Cise. The brave Vernier came near shooting a cowwhich was peaceably feeding by the roadside. 

"Ah, you fired in the air!" cried Gaudissart. 

At these words the enemies embraced. 

"Monsieur, " said the traveller, "your joke was rather rough, but itwas a good one for all that. I am sorry I apostrophized you: I wasexcited. I regard you as a man of honor. "

"Monsieur, we take twenty subscriptions to the 'Children's Journal, '"replied the dyer, still pale. 

"That being so, " said Gaudissart, "why shouldn't we all breakfasttogether? Men who fight are always the ones to come to a goodunderstanding. "

"Monsieur Mitouflet, " said Gaudissart on his return to the inn, "ofcourse you have got a sheriff's officer here?"

"What for?"

"I want to send a summons to my good friend Margaritis to deliver thetwo casks of wine. "

"But he has not got them, " said Vernier. 

"No matter for that; the affair can be arranged by the payment of anindemnity. I won't have it said that Vouvray outwitted the illustriousGaudissart. "

Madame Margaritis, alarmed at the prospect of a suit in which theplaintiff would certainly win his case, brought thirty francs to theplacable traveller, who thereupon considered himself quits with thehappiest region of sunny France, --a region which is also, we must add, the most recalcitrant to new and progressive ideas. 

On returning from his trip through the southern departments, theillustrious Gaudissart occupied the coupe of a diligence, where he meta young man to whom, as they journeyed between Angouleme and Paris, hedeigned to explain the enigmas of life, taking him, apparently, for aninfant. 

As they passed Vouvray the young man exclaimed, "What a fine site!"

"Yes, Monsieur, " said Gaudissart, "but not habitable on account of thepeople. You get into duels every day. Why, it is not three monthssince I fought one just there, " pointing to the bridge of La Cise, "with a damned dyer; but I made an end of him, --he bit the dust!"

ADDENDUM

The following personages appear in other stories of the Human Comedy. 

Finot, Andoche Cesar Birotteau A Bachelor's Establishment A Distinguished Provincial at Paris Scenes from a Courtesan's Life The Government Clerks A Start in Life The Firm of Nucingen

Gaudissart, Felix Scenes from a Courtesan's Life Cousin Pons Cesar Birotteau Honorine

Popinot, Anselme Cesar Birotteau Cousin Pons Cousin Betty