A wish? The Devil was only waiting for that.
IV. First contact with the directing classes
Expressly to satisfy his wish, and at the very moment that he formulated it, something happened a few leagues away. Everything is connected down here; the world, which we believe to be very large, is very small, and becoming smaller and smaller. At the moment when we are thinking about it the least, people that are out of sight, whom we do not know, and of whom we have no suspicion, are weaving our destiny without knowing it.
When Dieudonat made his wish, Archduke Galeas, the heir to the Empire, was sitting in his palace, where he had been royally bored for a fortnight. Suddenly, he got up, moved by a sudden impulse; it would have astonished him, even more than someone else, if it had been revealed to him that the impulse in question had not emanated from his own free will, and that a spring had pushed him.
Once on his feet, Galeas the One-Eyed declared his formal intention of undertaking, without delay, a journey through the kingdoms and duchies whose homage he would soon receive; perhaps he would even discover, in the course of that excursion, a spouse capable of curing his ennui.
“We leave tomorrow!”
The decisions of that powerful lord were not among those that one questions; the preparations were ordered immediately, and six days later, His Serene Highness, surrounded by a sumptuous escort, penetrated into the lands of Hardouin, the first vassal of the Empire.
In order to feed his future Suzerain appropriately, the Duke had had hundreds of domestic and wild animals slaughtered, which the cooks butchered. He had also had Dom Ambrosius draft a beautiful speech, which he learned by heart, although the heart had nothing to do with it, in which he expressed his joy at receiving such an august personage.
When the couriers informed him of Galeas’ approach, he went out to meet him, in great pomp, but very troubled, having is son to his right and the chaplain to his left, preceded by his men-at-arms and followed by his pages in furbelows. He rode with as much majesty as possible and, while riding, his eyes intense and his lips mobile, he repeated his difficult speech.
Soon, the two troops were in one another’s presence, and the trumpets sounded. The old lord got down from his horse, and advanced toward the Archduke, who was waiting for him on foot, beneath his banners.
It’s true, though, that he’s one-eyed.
That observation occupied the orator so much that it became impossible for him to think about anything else. One-Eyed…One-Eyed... The fixity of that unique eye ended up troubling his memory; he recited his compliment very poorly, which irritated him against everyone, especially the chaplain. Galeas’ eye only expressed a demi-satisfaction. A second fanfare put an end to the Duke’s embarrassment, and the heralds of the Empire invited Dieudonat to present himself for the genuflection.
The later advanced, full of cordiality, and, instead of bending his knee, he extended his hand, saying “Good day, cousin.”
The heir to the Empire frowned, and muttered: “Are we in the land of fools?”
Dom Ambrosius shoved his pupil from behind. “Kneel down, then!”
But Dieudonat started laugh. “Why would I kneel down, except to pray to God or play marbles?”
The Archduke turned to his master of ceremonies. “Have I not heard that his fellow refuses us homage?”
A disquieting breeze shook the leaves of the aspens, and very valiant warriors felt a chill at the roots of the hair beneath their helmets.
But Dieudonat paid no heed to that; a more interesting spectacle attracted his attention; he had just perceived Gutenberg’s cart on the road, behind the halberdiers, which had just come over the top of a hill. Sergeants-at-arms moved the donkey and the carter off the road, but the oldest of the children, with two of his brothers, slipped under the horses, in spite of thrusts with the hafts of the halberds; in the end, that ragged and pale-faced trio appeared between the thigh-guards of the nobility.
Galeas let fall upon the human ants a gaze as heavy as a sledgehammer. The good Duke Hardouin, furious at the scandal, swore internally to hang the bandits who were giving such a deplorable idea of his people and his police.
It was then that Dieudonat took young Hans by his tattered sleeve and drew him into the middle of the circle.
“My dear cousin,” he said, “I present our cousins the Gutenbergs to you.”
“What?”
“Yee, yes. yes, my cousins and yours! As much as you and me, these descend from Hercules, and the blood in their veins is as royal as yours and mine; I’ve discovered that, and will explain it to you this evening, after supper.”
The heir of thirty-four emperors did not want to hear any more; he turned his back and shouted: “My horse!”
Everyone understood; a page brought the charger; the Archduke grasped the mane and leapt into the saddle. Hardouin tried to improvise a supplication, but his voice was lost in the clash of iron horseshoes, for Galeas’ horse had reared up and pivoted on its hind feet. The Archduke rode away; his men followed.
The fearful Ambrosius made multiple signs of the cross and recommended himself to Heaven.
“What’s happening; my God, what’s going to happen?”
For a long moment the Duke remained motionless in the middle of the road, abashed, contemplating the backs of the departing escort. Then, whipped by indignation, he climbed on to his mount, as the Archduke had just done, but with less agility. He dug in his spurs, and such was his fury against Dieudonat, Galeas, Ambrosius, travelers and emperors that he bloodied the flanks of his horse, a complete stranger to human affairs. Where was he going? To his manor, in order to hide his shame there; the plumes of his crest fluttered in his wake and a cloud of dust swirled behind him. Road-menders at work watched the master’s equestrian wrath go past and shook their heads, thinking: That’s bad. Something’s going badly.
The Duke withdrew to his bedroom, where he broke various objects that came to hand; when he could not find any more, he tore his garments; that initial task occupied him for half an hour, after which, the powerful lord sat down in order to catch his breath, for he had great need of it. Faithful to his principal of not deciding anything in anger, he wanted to wait until his soul was in repose.
Serenity only returned to him at nightfall. Then he summoned the chaplain, in order to demand an explanation from him of the strange attitude his disciple had adopted.
Dom Ambrosius appeared; he had no confidence, and remained on the threshold.
“Advance, Dom Ambrosius. I’m calm; pull yourself together. I like you, you know that; I entrusted you with the education of my son, and that’s evidence of my great esteem; but I’m not content. What is he doing to us, and what mania has gripped him? Can you explain that conduct?”
“Milord, I’ll tell you; it’s because of arithmetic...”
“I don’t know arithmetic, but it was up to you to forbid it to him, if it’s incompatible with the most elementary duties.”
“Milord, that child is too well-endowed. He destroys everything!”
“Bah! It’s the Holy Spirit that moves him; but you’re his tutor, you ought to direct his mind.”
“He escapes me, Milord. He goes too quickly. He only has to say: ‘I want to understand,’ and he understands. He understands too much; he understands everything, final causes and original causes, consequences and subsequences, everything, Milord! ‘I want to understand.’ That’s it. His wish is granted and nothing can resist it. Doubtless thanks to the Devil, for he reasons, Milord! No verity can stand up to it: heresy lies in wait.”
“Box his ears.”
“He receives cuffs with an angelic mildness, Milord; he’s even delighted when I slap him, because it proves, he says, that I have nothing to respond and that his judgment is sound.”
“Prevent him from reading!”
“I assure you, Milord, that books haven’t perverted him. I possess very few, but they’re good books, and among those I offer him he can no longer tolerate any but geometry and th
e Gospel.”
“You mean the Gospels.”
“No, Milord. He has deliberately suppressed three of them, which inhibit his belief in the fourth.”
“Edify him with the reading of Holy Scripture.”
“He isn’t edified at all. He admires the prophets, but if you heard how he judges Abraham and Jacob, David and Solomon, Judith and Delilah! He’s always in favor of the vanquished or the lame, and he asked me one day—I scarcely dare repeat such a blasphemy, Milord—whether the Holy Bible isn’t the history of all the vices, recounted to children in order to teach them what people ought not to do. Doesn’t he imagine that every patriarch incarnates a deadly sin and that the God of Israel summarizes them all in himself. He sustains that Jehovah is the brother of Moloch.”
“I don’t know this Moloch, or his family, but I know that it’s necessary to honor God the Father, and everything you’re telling me about that child is evidence of a great deal of pride.”
“No, Milord. He’s modest and considers himself to be the brother of the humblest animals; he talks to them and listens to them, like Saint Francis, and I imagine that they’re the only company in which he takes pleasure—but what I’m very sure of is that he prefers it to mine.”
“Is that possible?”
“He converses with ants more gladly than with me, and he draws aphorisms from their frequentation that would make your hair stand on end. To hear him, the beasts possess the maximum of verity permitted to terrestrial creatures, with the minimum of pretention; he concludes therefrom that they obtain thus a relative quietude, which is the maximum of happiness, and that’s why. Milord, not only does he admire them but I can assure that, times, he envies them.”
“Well, let’s be careful. His wishes are realized, and if he has a whim to be a dog or a pig...”
“He won’t, Milord. Because his excess of intelligence has allowed him to discover the limits of intelligence, he declares that a limited understanding engenders unlimited error...”
“Ta ta ta... I don’t understand any of this nonsense. Speak more clearly, Father.”
“In other terms, Milord, it comes down to saying that he couldn’t consent to risk, on his own part, the error of making a decision.”
“Father, Father! What are you saying? He’ll have to make decisions when he reigns in my place.”
“I greatly fear, Milord, that that child is too intelligent to accept a throne. He’d judge himself unworthy of it, and resign it out of conscience.”
“Father, Father! My people are counting on him, and I’ve counted on you! You’ve brought up my son badly, and I’ll have you hanged.”
“It’s not my fault, Milord. It’s the fault of the Holy Spirit!”
“Shall I hang the Holy Spirit, and are you advising me to do it, wretch that you are?”
“Please, Milord, don’t be angry!”
“That’s well said, Father; a judge ought to abstain from all passion, when delivering his sentences. Don’t say any more, and let me think.”
A few moments went by.
“I’ve reflected, Abbé. It’s quite certain that you’ve misdirected a well-endowed child. That’s a grave fault; I’m a sovereign full of justice, who ought not to leave any fault unpunished; come here, so that I can embrace you, for I love you with all my heart and I’m very sorry about what is happening to you.”
He embraced Dom Ambrosius, whom he did indeed like a great deal, and in order to be quite sure that his personal sentiments would not impede the work of his justice, he ordered that he be hanged without delay.
Dom Ambrosius did his best to protest, but with no success. He was simply hung from the crenellations, because his humble birth did not permit him to pretend to the honor of decapitation.
V. How the young Prince quit the castle
of his forefathers
The next day, when he woke up, Dieudonat, who lodged in the north tower, put his nose to his window in order to see the morning, and immediately perceived, under the machicolations, the long body of his tutor, which was hanging at the end of a rope. He was profoundly moved, for his sentiments of commiseration always came to him first, and he wept for that companion of all his hours. Then he was astonished that such a worthy ecclesiastic had been put to death, and wondered what crime he could have committed. Finally, he thought that every living creature is, by definition, a fallible creature, and that Dom Ambrosius had doubtless failed, like anyone else.
Thus, he went to the good lord his father to enquire about the fault, and his amazement became much more considerable when he leaned that the tutor was expiating between two crenellations the deviations of his disciple. He estimated, and declared without hesitation, that ducal justice was mistaken, and that logically, it was necessary to take down the almoner, if there was still time, and very quickly, from the place that was rightfully his.
He went up on to the platform, and perhaps he would have been hanged, since all his wishes were granted, but the priest had died the previous evening; a second execution would not have repaired the wrongs of the first, and the Prince resigned himself to the fait accompli, as he was accustomed to do, already being very wise. He contented himself with taking down personally the old friend who had boxed his ears so often in order to teach him think like everyone else, and had not succeeded..
On going back down the stone staircase he meditated on ill-timed justice; he was compelled to condemn those who permitted others to be condemned, and who dared to take away life, being incapable of returning it subsequently if they perceived that they would have been better not to touch it.
He venerated and loved his father, as God prescribes in the fourth commandment, but no veneration could alter the fact that the father in question had showed himself to be unwittingly unintelligent and ferocious, in the manner of bulls and tigers, which are animals. He declared that respectfully to the author of his days, and, in the same breath, with a gaze full of tears and tenderness, told him that he would always persist in venerating and loving him such as God had made him—which is to say, like a beast.
On hearing those words, the Duke flew into a violent rage and had Dieudonat thrown into a profound, very damp dungeon, where the Prince continued to meditate in the company of rats.
Before the end of the first day, he arrived at the conclusion that power is a very unhealthy thing for humans, which ought to be dreaded rather than desired, since it multiples opportunities for error and sin. In order to ask God to spare him such a mission he threw himself on his knees, taking great care not to crush any rats, and prayed from the depths of his soul.
His prayer was granted, naturally, and this is how. After a week, Hardouin the Just summoned his heir, laden with chains, and called upon him to retract the words that he had spoken and ask for forgiveness for them.
“You ask forgiveness, Father. I want that, and with all my heart, if I have been able to cause you chagrin by observing your lack of intelligence. As for retracting what I said, I do that wholeheartedly also, Father, if I was wrong so say what I thought when my thought was of a nature to cause you pain, and if it is better to lie than to cause chagrin to those I love, as I believe.”
“So, you miserable runt, to say that I’m not a beast is lying?”
“That lie, Father, I am willing to tell for you, and to assume the remorse for that sin, so much do I love you and venerate you, for I believe that, in the perpetual conflict of our incompatible duties, the duties that come first and exclude the others are the duties of love.”
The Duke leapt from his throne and came in person to slap the heir of a long race; his indignation was even so violent that, at the moment of the slap he forgot to open his hand; that simple distraction was sufficient to make the paternal hand into a fist.
“A fist, that’s all,” said Dieudonat.
Almost immediately, he felt a tooth that was wandering over his tongue like a pastille; he took it out between his thumb and index finger and said: “I’m quite content Father, for Dom Ambrosius had
the custom of striking me on the cheek every time I had reasoned correctly, and I must have reasoned better than usual today, for you strike harder than Dom Ambrosius.”
“Execrable insolent, you won’t have my crown. I disinherit you!”
“You’re fulfilling my desires, Father, in granting me, in exchange for the perilous diadem, the serenity of my days to come.”
“Excrement of the earth, get out! I expel you.”
“Be blessed, Father, for that word, which makes me a free man.”
“Free! I’ll imprison you in a convent!”
“I have no objection to that, Father, for you’ll only imprison my body. In the week that I’ve been in prison, I’ve learned this: the mind travels further when the body remains tranquil. Lock me up, in order that my thoughts will be free.”
“Out of my presence, villain!”
“May God keep you in his holy protection and grant you his protection, Father.”
“Out! Out!”
“So be it.”
The Duchess begged, rolled on the floor, wrung her arms and cried that her son was mad, and that it is necessary to forgive madmen, but in vain; the Duke remained inexorable.
Dieudonat was led away under guard and taken to the convent of Fortunada, which was far away in the mountains. In order to get there it was necessary to go up and down many hills, along paths scarcely frayed between the rocks, and to pass over torrents that rushed into the hollows of gulfs. The Prince had never seen anything so beautiful. Inviolate trees had been growing here for centuries; unknown flowers boomed in peaceful corners; the depths of the precipices were blue, and when a fire was lit in the evening, the smoke rose straight up toward the calm of the sky.
Dieudonat Page 4
