XII
One evening when old Brotteaux arrived in the Rue de la Loi bringing agross of dancing-dolls for the _citoyen_ Caillou, the toy-merchant, thelatter, a soft-spoken, polite man as a rule, stood there stiff and sternamong his dolls and punch-and-judies and gave him a far from graciouswelcome.
"Have a care, _citoyen_ Brotteaux," he began, "have a care! There is atime to laugh, and a time to be serious; jokes are not always in goodtaste. A member of the Committee of Security of the Section, whoinspected my establishment yesterday, saw your dancing-dolls and deemedthem anti-revolutionary."
"He was jesting!" declared Brotteaux.
"Not so, _citoyen_, not at all. He is not the man to joke. He said inthese little fellows the National representatives were insidiouslymimicked, that in particular one could discover caricatures of Couthon,Saint-Just and Robespierre, and he seized the lot. It is a dead loss tome, to say nothing of the grave risks to which I am exposed."
"What! these Harlequins, these Gilles, these Scaramouches, these Colinsand Colinettes, which I have painted the same as Boucher used to fiftyyears ago, how should they be parodies of Couthons and Saint-Justs? Nosensible man could imagine such a thing."
"It is possible," replied the _citoyen_ Caillou, "that you actedwithout malice, albeit we must always distrust a man of parts like you.But it is a dangerous game. Shall I give you an instance? Natoile, whoruns a little outdoor theatre in the Champs Elysees, was arrested theday before yesterday for anti-patriotism, because he made Polichinellepoke fun at the Convention."
"Now listen to me," Brotteaux urged, raising the cloth that covered hislittle dangling figures; "just look at these masks and faces, are theyanything else whatever but characters in plays and pastorals? How couldyou let yourself be persuaded, _citoyen_ Caillou, that I was making funof the National Convention?"
Brotteaux was dumfounded. While allowing much for human folly, he hadnot thought it possible it could ever go so far as to suspect hisScaramouches and Colinettes. Repeatedly he protested their innocence andhis; but the _citoyen_ Caillou would not hear a word.
"_Citoyen_ Brotteaux, take your dolls away. I esteem you, I honour you,but I do not mean to incur blame or get into trouble because of you. Iintend to remain a good citizen and to be treated as such. Good evening,_citoyen_ Brotteaux; take your dolls away."
The old man set out again for home, carrying his suspects over hisshoulder at the end of a pole, an object of derision to the children,who took him for the hawker of rat-poison. His thoughts were gloomy. Nodoubt, he did not live only by his dancing-dolls; he used to paintportraits at twenty _sols_ apiece, under the archways of doors or in oneof the market halls, among the darners and old-clothes menders, where hefound many a young recruit starting for the front and wanting to leavehis likeness behind for his sweetheart. But these petty tasks cost himendless pains, and he was a long way from making as good portraits as hedid dancing-dolls. Sometimes, too, he acted as amanuensis for theMarket dames, but this meant mixing himself up in Royalist plots, andthe risks were heavy. He remembered there lived in the RueNeuve-des-Petits-Champs, near the erstwhile Place Vendome, anothertoy-merchant, Joly by name, and he resolved to go next day to offer himthe goods the chicken-hearted Caillou had declined.
A fine rain began to fall. Brotteaux who feared its effects on hismarionettes, quickened his pace. As he crossed the Pont-Neuf and wasturning the corner of the Place de Thionville, he saw by the light of astreet-lamp, sitting on a stone post, a lean old man who seemed utterlyexhausted with fatigue and hunger, but still preserved his venerableappearance. He was dressed in a tattered surtout, had no hat andappeared over sixty. Approaching the poor wretch, Brotteaux recognisedthe Pere Longuemare, the same he had saved from hanging six monthsbefore while both of them were waiting in queue in front of the bakeryin the Rue de Jerusalem. Feeling bound to the monk by the service he hadalready done him, Brotteaux stepped up to him and made himself known asthe publican who had stood beside him among the common herd, one day ofgreat scarcity, and asked him if he could not be of some use to him.
"You seem wearied, Father. Take a taste of cordial,"--and Brotteaux drewfrom the pocket of his plum-coloured coat a flask of brandy, which laythere alongside his Lucretius.
"Drink. And I will help you to get back to your house."
The Pere Longuemare pushed away the flask with his hand and tried torise, but only to fall back again in his seat.
"Sir," he said in a weak but firm voice, "for three months I have beenliving at Picpus. Being warned they had come to arrest me at my lodging,yesterday at five o'clock of the afternoon, I did not return home. Ihave no place to go to; I am wandering the streets and am a littlefatigued."
"Very well, Father," proposed Brotteaux, "do me the honour to share mygarret."
"Sir," replied the Barnabite, "you know, I suppose, I am a suspect."
"I am one too," said Brotteaux, "and my marionettes into the bargain,which is the worst thing of all. You see them exposed under this flimsycloth to the fine rain that chills our bones. For, I must tell you,Father, that after having been a publican, I now make dancing-dolls fora living."
The Pere Longuemare took the hand the _ci-devant_ financier extended tohim and accepted the hospitality offered. Brotteaux, in his garret,served him a meal of bread and cheese and wine, which last he had put tocool in the rain-gutter, for was he not a Sybarite?
Having appeased his hunger:
"Sir," said the Pere Longuemare, "I ought to inform you of thecircumstances that led to my flight and left me to die on yonder postwhere you found me. Driven from my cloister, I lived on the scantyallowance the Assembly had assigned to me; I gave lessons in Latin andMathematics and I wrote pamphlets on the persecution of the Church ofFrance. I have even composed a work of some length, to prove that theConstitutional oath of the Priests is subversive of Ecclesiasticaldiscipline. The advances made by the Revolution deprived me of all mypupils, while I could not get my pension because I had not thecertificate of citizenship required by law. This certificate I went tothe Hotel de Ville to claim, in the conviction I was well entitled toit. Member of an order founded by the Apostle Paul himself, who boastedthe title of Roman citizen, I always piqued myself on behaving after hisexample as a good French citizen, a respecter of all human laws whichare not in opposition to the Divine. I presented my demand to MonsieurColin, pork-butcher and Municipal officer, in charge of the delivery ofcertificates of the sort. He questioned me as to my calling. I told himI was a Priest. He asked me if I was married, and on my answering that Iwas not, he told me that was the worse for me. Finally, after a varietyof questions, he asked me if I had proved my citizenship on the 10thAugust, the 2nd September and the 31st May. 'No certificates can begiven,' he added, 'except to such as have proved their patriotism bytheir behaviour on these three occasions.' I could not give him ananswer that would satisfy him. However, he took down my name and addressand promised me to make prompt enquiry into my case. He kept his word,and as the result of his enquiry two Commissioners of the Committee ofGeneral Security of Picpus, supported by an armed band, presentedthemselves at my lodging in my absence to conduct me to prison. I do notknow of what crime I am accused. But you will agree with me one mustpity Monsieur Colin, whose wits are so clouded he holds it a reproachto an ecclesiastic not to have made display of his patriotism on the10th August, the 2nd September, and the 31st May. A man capable of sucha notion is surely deserving of commiseration."
"_I_ am in the same plight, I have no certificate," observed Brotteaux."We are both suspects. But you are weary. To bed, Father. We willdiscuss plans to-morrow for your safety."
He gave the mattress to his guest and kept the palliasse for himself;but the monk in his humility demanded the latter with so much urgencythat his wish had to be complied with; otherwise he would have slept onthe boards.
These arrangements completed, Brotteaux blew out the candle both to savetallow and as a wise precaution.
"Sir," the monk addressed him, "I am thankful for what you a
re doing forme; but alas! it is of small moment to you whether I am grateful or no.May God account your act meritorious! _That_ is of infinite concern foryou. But God pays no heed to what is not done for his glory and ismerely the outcome of purely natural virtue. Wherefore I beseech you,sir, to do for Him what you were led to do for me."
"Father," answered Brotteaux, "never trouble yourself on this head anddo not think of gratitude. What I am doing now, the merit of which youexaggerate,--is not done for any love of you; for indeed, albeit you area lovable man, Father, I know you too little to love you. Nor yet do Iact so for love of humanity; for I am not so simple as to think with'Don Juan' that humanity has rights; indeed this prejudice, in a mind soemancipated as his, grieves me. I do it out of that selfishness whichinspires mankind to perform all their deeds of generosity andself-sacrifice, by making them recognize themselves in all who areunfortunate, by disposing them to commiserate their own calamities inthe calamities of others and by inciting them to offer help to a mortalresembling themselves in nature and destiny, so that they think they aresuccouring themselves in succouring him. I do it also for lack ofanything better to do; for life is so desperately insipid we must finddistraction at any cost, and benevolence is an amusement, of a mawkishsort, one indulges in for want of any more savoury; I do it out of prideand to get an advantage over you; I do it, in a word, as part of asystem and to show you what an atheist is capable of."
"Do not calumniate yourself, sir," replied the Pere Longuemare. "I havereceived of God more marks of grace than He has accorded you hitherto;but I am not as good a man as you, and am greatly your inferior innatural merits. But now let me take an advantage too over you. Notknowing me, you cannot love me. And I, sir, without knowing you, I loveyou better than myself; God bids me do so."
Having so said, the Pere Longuemare knelt down on the floor, and afterrepeating his prayers, stretched himself on his palliasse and fellpeacefully asleep.
Les Dieux ont soif. English Page 12
