CORNELL UNIVERSITY 
 
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 JOHN M. OLIN 
 LIBRARY 
 
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 3 1924 027 258 338 
 
Cornell University 
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 UNIVERSAL CLASSICS 
 LIBRARY; 
 
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 M.WALJER DUNNE, PUBLISHER 
 
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MARIE STUART AND CHASTELARD 
 
 Hand-painfed p^o^t^gravure after the .painting -^y Micquet. 
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ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 Marie Stuart and Chastelard Frontispiece 
 
 Hand-painted photogravure after the painting by Micquet 
 
 The Girondins 247 
 
 Photogravure after the painting by Delaroche 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 WHEN we pause to think of a particular nation, or 
 literature, we see that it stands for, or typifies, 
 certain qualities. In Greece, beauty and art were 
 dominant ; in Rome, dominion and written law. In France 
 came very early a certain flowerage of culture, the direct 
 product of intelligence and art, so that it has long had 
 supremacy for the finest things that engage the human 
 mind. 
 
 There are writers who say that when you go to Paris 
 you feel at once its seductive atmosphere and thrill. You 
 seem to be in an entrancing world where pleasure, gayety, 
 wit and intelligence abound, and where art permeates and 
 inspires everything. Only there could it be said of a con- 
 spirator against the life of the nation's ruler that his throw- 
 ing of a bomb, execrable as it is, was a " beautiful gesture." 
 This may be an extravagant illustration, but it will serve 
 to show how beauty almost condones crime, and how it 
 lifts up to honor all that is well shaped and well said with 
 the people who use the flexible French language. 
 
 This tongue is a wonderful instrument, indeed, in the 
 hands of its masters. Who would not give up his days 
 and nights to attain the art of Flaubert and Maupassant 
 rather than to spend them upon Addison — exemplar though 
 Addison was for those of his generation in respect to 
 style ? 
 
 In the French feuilletonists even we see that style is the 
 watchword. A recent writer remarks that the eighty daily 
 papers of the French metropolis disseminate ideas rather 
 than concrete news, and that their journalism is not a prov- 
 ince outside of literature, but it is literature. And all this 
 
 signifies much. 
 
 (ix) 
 
X SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 The French writer of essays and poems may not invari- 
 ably have much to say, but what constitutes his message 
 he says well. He holds to verity rather than to mysticism. 
 He deplores lumbering and awkward expression. Poetic 
 and fruitful of thought as Richter, the German, and Car- 
 lyle, the Englishman, are, they are too nebulous to suit the 
 French taste ; and in spite of Taine's acuteness as a critic, 
 Carlyle remained an unsolved riddle to him. For lucidity 
 and not obscurity is the French author's primary trait. 
 
 It has been said that " it is impossible to be at once correct 
 and obscure in French." The language perhaps lends itself 
 to clarity and proportion. Such critics as Scherer and St. 
 Beuve rank among the very first in the world, for their 
 keen perception, their balanced judgment, and their fluid, 
 captivating style. Vivacity, or esprit, lightness of touch, 
 and a fine aerial delicacy in the French essay or poem 
 never fail to confront the reader, and lead him on. 
 
 Sometimes the flippant, staccato style of as great a writer 
 as Victor Hugo may seem to the English mind too thin, 
 too much a pose or an attitude to be nutrient, but with 
 his best thoughts this form produces magical influence. 
 If we cannot all credit the supremacy that Swinburne al- 
 lots him, few there are who venture to deny his masterly 
 literary force. A quatrain of Emerson's, to be sure, has a 
 depth of thought enfolded in it that might furnish forth 
 the substance for a long lyric in the Hugo manner. Yet 
 the majority of readers in any country would most likely 
 better enjoy the diluted lyric than the compressed quatrain. 
 
 It is noticeable that, with Villon and Verlaine, the aspir- 
 ing translator stands baffled. Their delicacy of word- 
 structure has no equivalent outside of the French tongue. 
 I^amartine and Beranger deal with themes that are more 
 cosmopolitan than these frailer and daintier writers, and, 
 therefore, are better known to us through translations. 
 
 Of the poets which French literature has to show — Ro- 
 mantic, Parnassian, and Symbolist or Decadent — reams 
 have been from time to time written. I^anson says, in a 
 recent exhaustive essay on the latest French poets, that 
 "when Victor Hugo took leave of the world in 1885 it 
 seemed as if he had carried French poetry with him. " But 
 
SPECIAL INTRODUCTION xi 
 
 the work of Banville, Leconte de I^isle, Sully-Prudliomme, 
 Coppde and others was left. There are indeed too many 
 names to note and to put in fair perspective in a small 
 space, for an opportunity here to consider well the wonder- 
 ful body of French verse, early and late. 
 
 The Decadent school of which we have heard so much, 
 with their whims of syntax and color, their dismissal of 
 concrete fact for atmosphere and spirit, and their "polymor- 
 phous " forms, do not show now their *^ violent zeal. " 
 They were not to bring an end to French poetry. Lanson 
 says they were merely to modify its development. Their 
 first flavor perhaps will change, if it has not already done 
 so, for better forms to follow. 
 
 But it must be said here that a great literature, so 
 massive and multi-colored as the French, cannot be known 
 thoroughly by any one (if I may borrow Professor 
 Dowden's idea). Many great and minor authors must be 
 left out of any brief synopsis of it. Of such varying 
 names as Renan, De Musset, Gautier, Daudet, La Fontaine, 
 and Joubert alone there is enough to be said for separate 
 monographs. Saintsbury affirms that * of all European 
 I/iterature the French is by general consent that which 
 possesses the most uniformly fertile, brilliant, and unbroken 
 history." It took nearly a thousand years to develop it, 
 and, though of Latin origin, it has differentiated itself 
 widely from that which is to be found in any one of the 
 other Latin-born tongues. Indeed, its early dominance in 
 Europe has overflowed to the equipment of authors not 
 natives of France. Can it be doubted that Arnold and 
 Pater of England, for instances easily recognized, would 
 not have written as they have had they not been influenced 
 by French models. 
 
 The French are said to write in jest what they feel in 
 earnest. In Rivarol's phrase, the French language has a 
 probiti attachet cL son ginie. Along with these, and 
 other traits, it cannot be said that the French have much 
 to show that comes up to the altitude of ^schylus and 
 Shakespeare, and their kind. But French writers are great 
 in lesser fields than the epic or the tragedy. They are 
 masters of mirth and lightness, and especially of the short 
 
xii SPECIAL INTRODUCTION 
 
 story. They excel in opalescent grace, in charm of narra- 
 tive; and, if authorship has for its purpose the delight of 
 the reader through the spell of sorcery, by the magic 
 mating of words to ideas, then there is no literature in the 
 world which can make that of the French tongue seem 
 subsident or secondary. 
 
 ^yojL^^^^ 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 HUMOR 
 
 The Strolling Players 5 
 
 by Paul Scarron 
 SENTIMENT 
 
 The Ruins of Empires 95 
 
 by Count Volney 
 Letters to Anonyma 145 
 
 by Prosper M6rim6e 
 Twenty-five Years of My Life 247 
 
 by Alphonse de Lamartine 
 ROMANCE 
 
 Salammbo 327 
 
 by Gustave Flaubert 
 
 (xiii) 
 
HUMOR 
 
 SCARRON 
 
 The Strolling Players 
 
HUMOR 
 
 PAUL SCARRON 
 
 IN THE shadow of Madame de Maintenon's personality the 
 literary brilliance of her first husband has been somewhat 
 obscured. Paul Scarron was bom in 1610, the son of a 
 parliament man. He was put into the church but soon de- 
 veloped capacities better fitted to a secular career. As the 
 consequence of reckless roistering he contracted a disease of 
 a rheumatic nature with complications that baffled the doc- 
 tors and made a distorted cripple of him for the last twenty 
 years of his life. Like Heine, he existed in physical torment 
 which left his brain undimmed, and, strangely enough, it was 
 while in this state of pain and poverty that the Maintenon 
 girl of sixteen became his faithful wife. For eight years she 
 was the light of his life and shared the admiration of his 
 crowd of friends who were regaled with their feasts of wit 
 and philosophic art of making the best of bad luck. 
 
 He earned something as a ready writer for the booksellers 
 and for a time he enjoyed pensions from the queen and Car- 
 dinal Mazarin'. He lost them by rash radicalism. His lively 
 plays, Jodelet and Don Japhet d' Arm^nie, are the best known 
 of his dramatic works, and he is credited with having gfiven 
 direct inspiration to Moliere. The poems and novels are to 
 be judged in the light of the times. They abound in racy 
 touches and pungent wit, each point having its aim and pur- 
 pose. 
 
 The happiest legacy of Scarron's caustic pen is the Roman 
 Comique. It tells the adventures of a troop of strolling play- 
 ers in the days when the drama was content to go a gipsy- 
 ing in wayside tents and its merriest performances were in 
 the old tavern yards. As the tale unfolds it shows a fine', 
 perspective of unconventional life and manners. This comic ■ 
 romance illustrates French humor as well as national charac- 
 teristics with a vivacity unrivaled up to its period. The ex- 
 traordinary mixture of the romantic and tragic in his own 
 career lends a peculiar interest to Paul Scarron and his work. 
 He died at fifty. 
 (4) 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 
 
 A COMPANY OF STROI^IvERS COME TO THE TOWN 
 
 OF MANS 
 
 BRIGHT Phoebus had already performed above half his 
 career ; and his chariot having passed the meridian, 
 and got on the declivity of the sky, rolled on swifter 
 than he desired. Had his horses been willing to have made 
 use of the slopingness of the way, they might have finished 
 the remainder of the day in less than half a quarter of an 
 hour ; but instead of pulling amain, they curveted about, 
 snuffing a briny air, which set them a-neighing, and made 
 them sensible that they were near the sea, where their father 
 is said to take his rest every night. To speak more like a 
 man, and in plainer terms, it was betwixt five and six of 
 the clock, when a cart came into the market-place of Mans. 
 This cart was drawn by two yoke of lean oxen, led by a 
 breeding mare, who had a colt that skipped to and fro like 
 a silly creature as he was. The cart was laden with trunks, 
 portmanteaus, and great packs of painted clothes, that made 
 a sort of pyramid, on the top of which sat a damsel, in a 
 half-city, half-country dress. A young man, as poor in 
 clothes as rich in mien, walked by the side of the cart: he 
 had a great patch on his face (which covered one of his eyes 
 and half of one cheek), and carried a long birding-piece on 
 his shoulder, wherewith he had murdered several magpies, 
 jays, and crows, which having strung together made him a 
 sort of bandoleer ; at the bottom of which hung a hen and 
 goose, that looked as if they had been taken from the 
 enemy by way of plunder. Instead of a hat he wore a 
 nightcap, tied about his head with garters of several col- 
 ors, and which was without doubt a kind of unfinished 
 turban. His doublet was a griset-coat, girt about with a 
 
 (5) 
 
6 SCARRON 
 
 leather thong, which served likewise to support a rapier so 
 very long, that it could not be used dexterously without the 
 help of a rest. He wore a pair of breeches tucked up to 
 above the middle of his thighs, like those that players have 
 when they represent an ancient hero. Instead of shoes he 
 wore tragic buskins, bespattered with dirt up to the ankles. 
 An old man, something more regular in his dress, though 
 in very ordinary habit, walked by his side. He carried a 
 bass viol on his shoulders ; and because he stooped a little 
 as he went, one might have taken him at a distance for a 
 great tortoise walking upon his hind feet. Some critic or 
 other will perhaps find fault with the comparison, by rea- 
 son of the disproportion between that creature and a man ; 
 but I speak of those great tortoises that are to be found 
 in the Indies ; and besides, I make bold to use the simile 
 upon my own authority. Let us return to our strolling 
 company. They passed by the tennis-court at the " Hind, * 
 before which were then assembled several of the chief 
 men of the town. The novelty of our strollers' equipage, 
 and the noise of the mob, who by this time had 
 gathered about the cart, drew the eyes of all those 
 honorable burgomasters upon our unknown travelers. 
 Among the rest, an under-sheriff, I^a Rappini&re by 
 name, made up to them, and with the authority of a 
 magistrate, asked them who they were. The young 
 man, whom I described before, without offering to 
 pull off his turban (because with one hand he held his 
 gun, and with the other the hilt of his sword, lest it 
 should beat against his legs), answered him that they were 
 Frenchmen by birth, and players by profession : that his 
 stage name was Destiny ; his old comrade's Rancour ; and 
 the gentlewoman (who sat roosting like a hen on the top 
 of their baggage) Cave. This odd name set some of the 
 company a laughing ; whereupon the young stroller added 
 that the name of Cave ought not to seem more strange to 
 men of wit than those of I^a Montagne, Valley, Rose, or 
 Thorn. The conversation ended with the noise of blows, 
 cursing, and swearing, that was heard before the cart. The 
 squabble had been occasioned by the servant of the tennis- 
 court falling foul upon the carter, without saying why or 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 7 
 
 wherefore ; yet the reason was because his oxen and mare 
 had been a little too free with a truss of hay that lay before 
 the door. However, the combatants were at length parted ; 
 and the mistress of the tennis-court, who loved to hear a 
 play more than a sermon or vespers, out of unheard of 
 generosity in a keeper of a tennis-court, bid the carter let 
 his cattle eat their bellies full. He took her at her word ; 
 and while the hungry beasts were feeding, the author 
 rested a while, and bethought himself what he should say 
 in the next chapter. 
 
 WHAT SORT OF MAN LA RAPPINIE^RE WAS 
 
 THB Sieur la Rappiniere was at that time the droll or 
 jester of Mans ; for you must know there is not 
 a town in France, though never so small, but has 
 such an animal belonging to it. The city of Paris has 
 several in each ward, and I myself might have been the 
 jester of mine, had I been willing to undertake it; but 
 everybody knows, it is a long time since I have forsaken 
 all the vanities of this world. To return to Monsieur la 
 Rappiniere. He soon renewed the conversation which 
 the squabble had interrupted, and asked the young player 
 whether their company consisted only of Mrs. Cave, Mon- 
 sieur Rancour, and himself. "Our company," answered 
 he, "is as complete as that of the Prince of Orange or of 
 his Grace the Duke of Epernon ; but through a misfortune 
 that befell us at Tours, where our rattle-headed doorkeeper 
 happened to kill one of the Fusiliers of the intendant of 
 the province, we were forced to fly in a hurry, and in the 
 sad pickle you see us." "Those FusiUers of the inten- 
 dants," said La Rappiniere, <'have been as troublesome to 
 you strollers as La Fleche." "Ay, devil take them," said 
 the mistress of the tennis-court, "if they could help it we 
 should have no plays." "Nay," answered the old stroller, 
 "had we but the keys of our trunks, we might entertain 
 the town for four or five days, for all them, before we 
 reach Alenfon, where the rest of our company are to ren- 
 
8 SCARRON 
 
 dezvous.* This player's answer made everybody to prick 
 up their ears. I^a Rappinifere offered an old gown of his 
 wife's to Cave, and the tennis woman two or three suits 
 of clothes, which had been left with her in pawn, to Des- 
 tiny and Rancour. "But,* added some of the standers-by. 
 "there are but three of you." "No matter for that," re- 
 plied Rancour, "for I once acted a whole play myself, and 
 represented the king, queen, and the ambassador with my 
 single person. I made use of a false treble tone when I 
 personated the queen ; I spoke through the nose for the 
 ambassador, an'd addressed myself to the crown which I 
 placed upon a chair; and as for the king, I resumed my 
 seat, crown, and gravity, and lowered the key of my voice 
 to a bass. Now to convince you of this, if you will satisfy 
 our carter, defray our charges in the inn, and lend us 
 what clothes you can spare, we will act still before night ; 
 otherwise we must beg leave to go to drink, or rest our- 
 selves, for we are come a great way." The company liked 
 the proposal, but that devil La Rappinifere, who was ever 
 hatching some mischief or other, said there was no occa- 
 sion for any other clothes than those of two young men of 
 the town, who were then playing a set at tennis, and that 
 Mrs. Cave in her ordinary dress might pass for anything 
 in a play. No sooner said but done ; in less than half a 
 quarter of an hour the strollers drank three or four glasses 
 of wine apiece ; shifted themselves ; and the company, who 
 by this time had increased to a full audience, having taken 
 their places in an upper room, a dirty cloth, instead of a 
 painted curtain, was drawn up, which discovered Destiny 
 lying on a quilt, with a strawberry basket on his head in 
 the room of a crown, rubbing his eyes like one who had 
 waked out of his sleep, and mouthing in the tone of 
 Mondori the part of Herod, which begins thus: — 
 
 "Injurious phantom, that disturbs my rest.» 
 
 The patch which almost covered one half of his face did 
 not hinder him from showing himself an excellent player. 
 Madam Cave acted to admiration the parts of Mariamne 
 and Salome ; Rancour pleased everybody with his action ; 
 and the play was carrying on to a happy conclusion, when 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 9 
 
 the devil, who never sleeps, interposed, and made the 
 tragedy end, not with the death of Mariamne and Herod's 
 despair, but with a thousand cuffs and boxes on the ears, 
 as many kicks, numberless oaths, and, last of all, a verbal 
 process and information, which was taken out by I^a Rap- 
 pini^re, the most skillful of all men in those matters. 
 
 WHAT DEPI.ORABI.E SUCCESS THE PLAY HAD 
 
 IN ALL the inferior towns of the kingdom, there is gener- 
 ally a tennis-court, whither all the idle people are used 
 to resort, some to play, others only to look on. It is 
 in those places where cursing and swearing passes for a rhe- 
 torical flourish, and where the absent are murdered with the 
 tongues of backbiters and bullies ; no man escapes scot-free ; 
 there all live in open defiance, and everybody is admitted to 
 rail according to his talent. It was in one of these tennis- 
 courts, if my memory fails me not, that I left three comical 
 persons reciting Mariamne before an honorable company, at 
 which presided Monsieur la Rappiniere. Now while Herod 
 and Mariamne were telling each other their faults, the two 
 young men, whose clothes they had so freely borrowed, 
 came into the room in their drawers, each of them with 
 his racket in his hand, having neglected to get themselves 
 rubbed, that they might come and hear the play. They 
 were not long in the room before they perceived that Herod 
 and Pherores had their clothes on ; when the most passion- 
 ate of the two, addressing himself to the waiter of the tennis- 
 court : " Thou son of a dog, " said he to him ; " why didst 
 thou give my clothes to that mountebank?" The innocent 
 waiter, who knew him to be a brutish sort of a man, told 
 him with great humility that he had no hand in it. " Who, 
 then, scoundrel ? " added he. The poor fellow durst not ac- 
 cuse I,a Rappiniere in his presence ; but he himself, the 
 most insolent of all men, rising from his seat, told him, 
 "It was I ; what have you to say to it?" "That you are 
 a rascal," replied the other ; and at the same time gave 
 him a plaguy blow over the pate with his racket. I^a Rap- 
 
lo SCARRON 
 
 piniere was so surprised to be struck first, whereas he used 
 to be beforehand with all men, that he stood motionless, 
 either through amazement, or because he was not yet angry 
 enough, and that it was not a small provocation that could 
 make him resolve to fight, though it were but at fisticuffs. 
 Nay, perhaps the quarrel had gone no farther, had not his 
 man, who was more choleric than he, fallen foul upon the 
 aggressor, and dealt him a sound cuff on the chops, and 
 in the middle of his face, and afterward in a great many 
 other places where he could find room to imprint his fury, 
 lya Rappinifere charged him behind, and worked on him like 
 one that had received the first provocation : a relation of 
 his adversaries invested La Rappiniere after the same man- 
 ner. This relation was attacked by one of La Rappiniere's 
 friends, in order to make a diversion : this combatant was 
 assaulted by another, and this last again by another. In 
 short, the whole audience divided into parties ; some cursed 
 and swore ; others called names ; all beat one another. The 
 tennis woman, who saw her goods broken to pieces, rent the 
 air with doleful cries. In all probability they had murdered 
 one another with stools, kicks, and cuffs, had not some of the 
 magistrates of the town (who happened at that time to be 
 walking in the piazza of the market-place, with Des Essars, 
 seneschal of Mayne) ran with all speed to the squabble. 
 Some proposed to throw two or three pails full of water on 
 the combatants ; which perhaps might have been successful : 
 however, they at length gave over fighting through weari- 
 ness. Beside two Capuchins, who out of charity flung 
 themselves into the field of battle, procured, though not a 
 firm peace betwixt the contending parties, yet a sort of 
 truce ; during which a negotiation was set on foot, without 
 derogating from the informations that were taken on both 
 sides, in order to a trial in due course of law. Destiny, one 
 of the strollers, performed wonders at boxing ; whose great 
 actions are talked of to this very day in the town of Mans, 
 according to the. faithful account delivered by the two young 
 men that raised the squabble, whom he particularly en- 
 gaged, and almost cuffed to death, besides a great many 
 others of the enemy, whom he disabled with the first blow. 
 Having lost his patch in the scuffle, people took notice his 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS ii 
 
 face was as fine as his shape. The bloody noses were hand- 
 somely washed with clean water : those that had their bands 
 torn, put on others instead of them, cataplasms were applied 
 where need required ; some few stitches served to darn many 
 a torn doublet ; and the household goods were set in their 
 proper places though not so sound and whole as they were 
 before. In short, a moment after there remained nothing 
 of the fight but a great spite and animosity, which appeared 
 in the faces of those of both parties. The poor strollers went 
 out a long while after the combat with La Rappiniere, who 
 was still for making speeches. In their way from the ten- 
 nis-court to the market-place, they were invested by seven 
 or eight bullies with swords in their hands. I,a Rappiniere 
 according to custom, was in a great fright, and indeed not 
 without cause, had not Destiny generously thrust himself 
 between him and a sword which was about to run him 
 through ; however, he could not so well parry the thrust, 
 but that he received a small wound in the arm. There- 
 upon he drew his rapier, and in the twinkling of an eye 
 beat two swords out of the hands of the enemy, broke two 
 or three skulls, battered and slashed as many faces, and 
 discomfited so dexterously the gentlemen of the ambuscade, 
 that all the bystanders unanimously confessed they never 
 had seen so valiant a champion. This abortive plot had 
 been laid against La Rappiniere by two squires, whereof 
 one married the sister of him who began the fight with a 
 great blow with a racket, by which in all likelihood. La 
 Rappiniere had been spoiled forever, but for the valiant 
 protector, whom Providence had raised for him in the per- 
 son of our stout player. This benefit melted his heart of 
 flint, insomuch, that he would not suffer the miserable re- 
 mains of a scattered company of strollers to lodge in an inn ; 
 but brought them to his own house, where the carter hav- 
 ing laid down the strolling furniture, returned home to his 
 village. 
 
SCARRON 
 
 HEREIN FARTHER MENTION IS MADE OF MON- 
 SIEUR IvA RAPPINi:&RE ; AND OF WHAT 
 HAPPENED THAT NIGHT AT 
 HIS HOUSE 
 
 MADAM la Rappiniere received the company with a great 
 deal of civility, as being the most submissive of 
 wives; she was indifferently handsome, though so 
 very lean and dry, that she never snuffed a candle with her 
 fingers but they presently caught fire. I could relate a 
 thousand curious stories about her, which I pass by for 
 fear of being tedious. The first compliments were scarce 
 over when the two ladies grew so well acquainted that they 
 began with my dear and my dearest. I^a Rappiniere, who 
 was as great a braggadocio as any in the world, was no 
 sooner come into the room, that he bid somebody go to the 
 kitchen and larder, and hasten supper. This was a mere 
 rodomontade ; for besides his valet, who likewise dressed 
 his horses, there was nobody in his house but a young 
 maid and an old lame woman, as crazy as a mangy dog. 
 His vanity was punished by an accident that filled him 
 with confusion. He was used to diet at the tavern, at the 
 expense of fools and bubbles, while his wife and his orderly 
 family were reduced to feed on soup and cabbage, accord- 
 ing to the custom of that country. Now, being willing to 
 make a show before his guests, and treat them nobly, he 
 was going to slip behind his back some money into the 
 hands of his man, to fetch something for supper ; but 
 through the awkwardness either of the servant or the mas- 
 ter, the pence fell on the chair he sat on, and from thence 
 to the ground. I,a Rappiniere looked blue upon it ; his wife 
 blushed ; the man cursed. Cave was uneasy ; Rancour per- 
 haps did not mind it ; and as for Destiny, I could not well 
 learn what effect it had upon his mind. However, the 
 money was taken up, and while supper was getting ready 
 they engaged in conversation. I^a Rappiniere asked Destiny 
 why he disguised his face with a patch. He answered, he 
 had great reason to do it, and as he had other clothes' on 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 13 
 
 by accident, so he likewise designed to make his face un- 
 known to some enemies he had. At last supper came in, 
 good or bad. I^a Rappinifere drank so much, that he felt 
 himself fuddled ; Rancour had his load ; Destiny supped 
 liked a sober, well-bred man ; Cave like a famished player ; 
 and Madam la Rappiniere like one who had a mind to lay 
 hold of the opportunity ; that is to say, so very greedily, 
 that she got a surfeit. While the servants were at supper, 
 and the beds making, I^a Rappiniere teased his guests with 
 a thousand stories full of vanity. Destiny lay in a little 
 room by himself ; Cave in a closet with the chamber-maid ; 
 and Rancour with the valet I know not where. They all 
 had a great mind to sleep, some through weariness, others 
 for having supped too plentifully, and yet they slept but 
 little ; so true it is, that there is nothing certain in this 
 world. After her first sleep. Madam la Rappiniere had an 
 inclination to go where kings are forced to go themselves 
 in person ; her husband waked at the same time, and though 
 he had not recovered his drunkenness, yet he found him- 
 self alone. He called his wife, nobody answered : where- 
 upon he grew jealous, fell in a passion, and instantly rose 
 out of his bed in a fury. As soon as he was got out of 
 the chamber, he heard a stamping of feet before him, and 
 for some time followed the noise through a little gallery 
 that led to Destiny's room. He found himself so near 
 what he pursued, that he trod upon its heels, and thinking 
 it to be his wife he was going to lay hold on her, but his 
 hands could catch • nothing, and his feet stumbling at the 
 same time, he fell down upon his nose, and felt some- 
 thing that was pointed running into his breast. Thereupon 
 he cried out after a most hideous manner, " Murder ! mur- 
 der ! I am stabbed," without letting go his wife, whom he 
 thought he held by the hair, and was struggling under 
 him. His cries and oaths set all the house in an uproar, 
 and everybody ran to his assistance : the maid with a 
 candle ; Rancour and the valet in their dirty shirts ; Cave 
 in a tattered petticoat ; Destiny with a sword in his hand, 
 and Madam la Rappiniere last of all, who, like all the rest, 
 was not a little surprised to see her furious husband grap- 
 pling with a she-goat, which was kept in the house to 
 
14 SCARRON 
 
 suckle some young puppies, whose dam happened to die- 
 No man was ever so much out of countenance as La Rap- 
 piniere. His wife, who presently suspected the truth of 
 the matter, asked him if he was mad. He answered, with- 
 out knowing well what he said, that he had taken the goat 
 for a thief; Destiny guessed the business, every one re- 
 turned to his bed, and made what constructions he thought 
 fit upon the adventure ; as for the goat, she was shut up 
 again with her puppies. 
 
 HEREIN ARE CONTAINED MANY THINGS NEC- 
 ESSARY TO BE KNOWN FOR THE UNDER- 
 STANDING OF THIS TRUE HISTORY 
 
 THE strolling company consisted of Destiny, Olive, and 
 Rancour, who had each of them a servant, who all 
 expected to be one day actors-in-chief. Of those serv- 
 ants, some began to speak without blushing, or being dashed 
 out of countenance. But among the rest. Destiny's man acted 
 indifferently well, understood what he said, and did not want 
 wit. Mrs. Star and Mrs. Cave's daughter played the principal 
 parts. Mrs. Cave acted the queen and the mother, and some- 
 times Merry Andrew's wife in a farce. Besides all these they 
 had a poet, or an author with them, for all the grocers' shops 
 in the kingdom were stored with his works, both in verse 
 and prose. This great wit followed the company almost 
 against their will ; but because he was no sharer, and that 
 he spent his own money with them, they suffered him to 
 act under-parts, which he nevertheless generally murdered. 
 They all perceived well enough that he was in love with 
 one of the two she-players ; but however he was so dis- 
 creet, though a little crack-brained, that it was not yet 
 discovered which of the two he designed to wheedle into 
 compliance, with the fair hopes of making her immortal. 
 He threatened the company with a great many plays of 
 his own writing, but till then had spared them, and they 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 15 
 
 only knew by conjecture that lie was about one called 
 "Martin Luther,* of which they found the first act, which 
 however he disowned, although it was written with his own 
 hand. When our strollers first arrived, the women's cham- 
 ber was continually crowded with the most impertinent fops 
 and beaux of the town, whose eagerness notwithstanding 
 was frequently cooled by the indifferent reception they met 
 with. They talked all together about plays, poetry, poets, 
 and romances, and there could not possibly have been more 
 noise unless they had been fighting. The poet, among the 
 rest, surrounded by three or four, who without doubt were 
 the top wits of the town, labored to persuade them that 
 he had seen Corneille, cracked many a bottle with St. 
 Amant and Beys, and lost a good friend when Rotrou died. 
 Madam Cave and her daughter Angelica set their goods in 
 order with as great tranquillity as if there had been nobody 
 in the room. It is true Angelica's fair hands were now 
 and then squeezed or kissed ; for these country gentlemen 
 are ever pulling and hauling ; but a kick on the shins, a 
 box on the ear, or a biting, according as occasion required, 
 soon rid her of those hot-spurred lovers, nor was she rude 
 and impudent neither, but her free and gay humor would 
 not suffer her to use much ceremony : as for her other 
 qualities, she had wit and was very honest. Mrs. Star was of 
 a quite different temper ; for there never was a more modest, 
 gentle, and good-natured woman in the world, and besides, 
 she at that time strained her complaisance so far, that she 
 could not find it in her heart to turn these ogling fops out 
 of her chamber, though she felt a great pain in her sprained 
 foot and had therefore occasion for rest. She lay in her 
 clothes on a bed, surrounded by four or five of these whin- 
 ing, sighing coxcombs, stunned by abundance of puns and 
 clinches, which pass for good jests in the country, and 
 often forcing a smile upon hearing things she did not like. 
 But this is one of the greatest plagues of that profession, 
 which together with their being obliged to laugh or weep, 
 whether they have a mind to it or no, takes very much from 
 their pleasure of being sometimes emperors and empresses, and 
 of being styled as fine as angels, though they be little 
 handsomer than devils, or addressed to as young beauties, 
 
1 6 SCARRON 
 
 though their hair and teeth be part of their furniture. 
 There are a great many more things to be said upon this 
 subject, but we must use them sparingly, and place them 
 in several stations, for variety's sake. lyCt us return to 
 Madam Star, beset with country squires, the most trouble- 
 some of men, all great talkers, most of them very imperti- 
 nent, and among them some newly returned from the 
 university. Among the rest appeared a little man, who 
 was a widower, a lawyer by profession, and an ofiBcer in a 
 small court of judicature in the neighborhood. Since the 
 death of his little wife, he sometimes threatened the women 
 to marry again, and sometimes the clergy of the province 
 to turn priest, nay even a preaching prelate. He was the 
 greatest little fool that ever ran madding about since Or- 
 lando Furioso. He had studied books all his lifetime ; but 
 though the chief end of scholarship be the knowledge of 
 truth yet was he as great a liar as a page, proud and ob- 
 stinate as a pedant, and so bad a poet as to deserve drown- 
 ing, if the government would but have taken care to rid 
 the kingdom of such a troublesome race of rhyming fools. 
 As soon as Destiny and his comrades came into the room, 
 without giving them the time to know who he was, he 
 offered to read to them a poem of his own making, called 
 "The Deeds and Achievements of Charlemagne," in four 
 and twenty books. This proposal put all the company into 
 such a fright as made their hair stand on end ; but Des- 
 tiny, who in this general terror preserved a little judgment, 
 told him smiling, that it was not possible for them to give 
 him the hearing before supper. "Well," quoth he, "I will 
 however read you a story taken out of a Spanish book, 
 which was sent me from Paris, and of which I design to 
 make a regular play." They shifted the discourse three or 
 four times on purpose to avoid hearing what they supposed 
 to be in imitation of " Guy of Warwick," or "Tom Thumb." 
 But though they often interrupted him, yet did our little 
 man not lose courage ; insomuch that with often beginning 
 his story he at last forced them to hear him out ; which 
 however they did not repent, because the tale proved to be 
 a good one, and caused them to alter the ill-opinion they 
 had of all that came from Ragotin, for so was our Jack-in- 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 17 
 
 the-Box called. You will find the said story in the follow- 
 ing chapter, not such as Ragotin told it, but such as I had 
 it from one of the hearers. Therefore you must know that 
 it is not Ragotin now speaks, but myself. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF THE INVISIBI^E MISTRESS 
 
 DON Cari,os of Arragon was a young gentleman of the 
 family that bore that name. He performed wonJers 
 at the public games, which the viceroy of Naples en- 
 tertained the people with, upon the marriage of Philip the 
 second, third, or fourth, for I have forgot whether. The 
 next day, after a running at the ring, where he bore away 
 the prize, the viceroy gave liberty to the ladies to go about 
 the city in disguise, and to wear masks after the French 
 mode, for the conveniency of strangers, whom the public 
 rejoicings had invited thither. Upon that very day Don 
 Carlos put on his finest clothes, and with many other con- 
 querors of hearts repaired to the church of gallantry. 
 Churches are profaned in these countries as well as in 
 ours ; and the house of God serves for an assembMe to the 
 beaux and coquets, to the eternal shame of those who have 
 the cursed ambition of drawing customers from other 
 churches to their own. These abuses ought to be re- 
 formed, and there should be persons appointed to turn 
 beaux and coquets out of churches, as well as to drive 
 away dogs and bitches. I may be asked, what makes me 
 concern myself about this? Truly you will see more anon. 
 However, let the fool who is offended at it be satisfied, that 
 all men of this world are fools as well as liars, some more, 
 some less ; and I myself am perhaps a greater f doI than the 
 rest, though I have more frankness in owning it : and 
 moreover my book being but a heap of follies, I hope 
 every fool will find his own character in it, unless he be 
 blinded by self-love. To return to my story. Don Carlos 
 being in a church, with several other Italian and Spanish 
 gentlemen, priding themselves in their fine feathers like 
 proud peacocks three ladies in masks accosted him amid all 
 
1 8 SCARRON 
 
 these fierce and gay Cupids, one of whom spoke to him thus, 
 or to the same effect : " Signior Don Carlos, there is a lady in 
 this city to whom you are very much obliged, for at all 
 the jousts and tournaments her wishes went still along with 
 you in those exercises wherein you carried the prize." 
 "What I find most advantageous in this you tell me," 
 answered Don Carlos, "is to have it from the mouth of a 
 lady who seems to be a person of merit ; yet had I so 
 much as hoped that any of the fair sex had been on my 
 side, I would have taken more care to deserve her appro- 
 bation." The unknown lady replied he had given all the 
 proofs imaginable of his being a most dexterous and accom- 
 plished gentleman, and that by his black and white liveries 
 he had shown he was not in love. "I never was well 
 acquainted with the meaning of colors," answered Don 
 Carlos; "but this I know, that if I am not in love it is 
 not so much on account of my being indifEerent, as because 
 I am sensible I do not deserve to be beloved." They said 
 to one another a thousand fine things more which I shall 
 not relate, because I know nothing of them, and would be 
 loath to compose fictions, lest I should wrong Don Carlos 
 and the unknown lady, who had a great deal more wit 
 than I can pretend to, as I was lately informed by a young 
 Neapolitan who knew them both. In short, the lady in 
 the mask declared to Don Carlos that it was she who had 
 an inclination for him. He desired to see her face, which 
 she refused, and told him that he must not expect it yet ; 
 that she would look for a more proper opportunity; and 
 that, to let him know she feared not to trust herself alone 
 with him, she would gr»re him a token. At these words 
 she pulled off her glove, and having showed the Spaniard the 
 finest hand in the world, presented him with a ring ; which 
 he received with so great a surprise at the adventure, that 
 he almost forgot to make a bow and thank her upon her 
 going from him. The other gentlemen, who out of civility 
 had left him, being come to him again, he told them what 
 had happened, and showed them the ring, which was of 
 considerable value. Every one spoke his thoughts upon 
 this adventure ; and Don Carlos was upon this as deep in 
 love with the unknown lady as if he had seen her face, so 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 19 
 
 great is the power of wit on those who have their share of 
 it. He was eight long days without hearing from this 
 lady ; but whether or no he was uneasy at it I could never 
 be well informed. In the meantime he went every day to 
 divert himself at the house of a captain of foot, where 
 several men of qualitj' met to play. One night having not 
 been at play, and going home sooner than ordinary, he was 
 called by his name out of a parlor in a great house. He 
 went near the window, which was latticed, and knew by 
 the voice that called him that it was his invisible mistress, 
 who said to him, " Come near, Don Carlos ; I expect you 
 here to decide our controversy.* *You are but a bragga- 
 docio," said Don Carlos; "you challenge with insolence, 
 and yet hide yourself for eight days together, and then, 
 alas, appear only through a lattice window." "We shall 
 see one another nearer in time," answered she. "It is not 
 for want of courage I have delayed being with you all this 
 while, but I had a mind to know you better before I dis- 
 covered myself. You know that in duels the com- 
 batants ought to fight with arms alike. Now if your 
 heart be not as free as mine, you would fight 
 with advantage, and therefore I have made inquiries after 
 you." "And what information have you got," answered 
 Don Carlos. "That we are much upon the square," re- 
 turned the invisible lady. "But," said Don Carlos, "there's 
 yet a great inequality betwixt us ; for," added he, " you both 
 see and know who I am, whereas I neither see nor know 
 who you are. Now consider, pray, what I can judge of 
 your concealing yourself, since people seldom do so when 
 they have a good design. It is an easy matter to impose 
 at first upon a man that mistrusts nothing, but he is not 
 to be cheated twice ; if you make use of me only to give an- 
 other jealousy, I must freely tell you that I am the most unfit 
 person for it in the world, and that I am good for nothing 
 else besides loving you." "Have you done with your rash 
 suspicions?" said the invisible lady. "You may call them 
 rash if you please," replied Don Carlos; "however^ they are 
 not really so." "I would have you to know," said she, "I 
 am sincere ; you will find me such in all our intercourse ; 
 and I expect you should be so too." "That's but reason- 
 
20 SCARRON 
 
 able,» answered Don Carlos; "but it is just likewise that I 
 should see you, and know who you are." "You shall be 
 satisfied in that ere it be long," said the invisible lady ; 
 « and in the meantime hope with patience ; for that's the 
 only way for you to obtain what you expect from me. 
 Now, that you may justify your love to your discretion, I 
 am willing to let you know that my birth is not inferior to 
 yours; that I have a fortune sufiScient to make you live 
 with as great magnificence as any prince in the kingdom ; 
 that I am rather handsome than ill-favored; and as for 
 wit, you have too much of that yourself not to discover 
 whether I have any or no." She had no sooner made an 
 end of her speech but she withdrew, leaving Don Carlos 
 with his mouth open, ready to answer her ; so very much 
 in love with a person he never saw, and so perplexed about 
 this odd way of proceeding, which might prove at last a 
 cheat, that he stood on the same place for above a quarter of 
 an hour, not knowing what to think of this extraordinary 
 adventure. He was not ignorant that there were a great 
 many princesses and ladies of quality in Naples ; but knew 
 likewise that there were abundance of greedy courtesans in 
 that city, eager after strangers, great jilts, and the more 
 dangerous as they were handsome. I cannot positively tell 
 whether he had supped at this time or whether he went to 
 bed without a supper. 
 
 Neither do I care to imitate the writers of romances, who 
 mark with great exactness all the hours of the day, and 
 make their heroes rise betimes, relate their adventures by 
 dinner-time, eat but little at dinner, then resume the story 
 after dinner, or retire into the thickest part of a wood, 
 in order to entertain their own selves, unless when they 
 have something to say to the rocks and trees. At supper- 
 time they make them repair at the usual hour to the 
 place where they diet ; there they sigh and look pensive, 
 instead of eating ; and thence go to build castles in the 
 air on some terrace-walk that looks toward the sea, while 
 the trusty squire reveals that his master is such a one, son 
 to such a king ; that he is the best prince alive, and 
 though he be still the handsomest of all mortals, that he 
 was quite another man before love had disfigured him. 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 21 
 
 To return to my story, Don Carlos repaired the next day to 
 his post, where the invisible lady waited his coming. She 
 asked him if he had not been much perplexed about their 
 last conversation, and if he had not doubted the truth of 
 what she told him. Don Carlos, without answering her 
 question, desired her to tell him what danger she feared in 
 discovering herself, since they were upon even terms ; and 
 that the end of their amours being honorable, it would 
 have the approbation of everybody. "The danger is very 
 great, and you will have it in time," said the invisible lady. 
 " Once more, be satisfied that I am true, and that in the 
 account I gave you of myself I was rather modest than 
 vain. "" Don Carlos did not press her any farther ; their con- 
 versation, which continued some time longer, increased the 
 mutual love they had for each other ; and so they parted 
 with promises to meet every day at the appointed hour 
 and place. The next day after there was a great ball at 
 the viceroy's, where Don Carlos hoped to know his 
 invisible charmer. In the meantime, he endeavored to 
 learn at whose house she gave him those favorable audi- 
 ences, and was told by the neighbors that it belonged to 
 an old lady, widow to a Spanish captain, who had neither 
 daughters nor nieces, and lived very retired. He desired 
 to wait on her, but she sent him word' that since her 
 husband died she admitted of no visits, which still per- 
 plexed him more and more. Don Carlos went in the even- 
 ing to the viceroy's, where you may imagine there was a 
 very fine and numerous assembly, and nicely observed all 
 the ladies in hopes to find out his unknown mistress. 
 He engaged in conversation with several, but was disap- 
 pointed in his search. At last he kept close to the 
 daughter of a marquis of I know not what marquisate, 
 for it was the most difficult thing to know in the world, 
 especially at that juncture, when everybody set up for that 
 quality. She was young and handsome, and had a voice 
 not unlike that of the person he looked after. But at the 
 long run, he found such great disproportion betwixt her 
 wit and that of his invisible, that he was sorry that in 
 so little time he had made such progress with this fine 
 lady, that, without any flattery to himself, he had reason to 
 
22 SCARRON 
 
 believe she did not hate him. They danced several times 
 together, and the ball being over, to the great satisfaction 
 of Don Carlos he took his leave of his captive, whom he 
 left full of pride for having had to herself in so fine an 
 assembly a cavalier who was envied by all the men and 
 esteemed by all the women. As soon as he came out of 
 the ball he went in great haste to his house, and from 
 thence to the fatal grate, which was not far off. His lady, ' 
 who was there already, asked him news of the ball, ^ 
 although she had been there herself. He told her very 
 ingenuously that he had danced with a very beautiful per- 
 son, and entertained her all the time the ball lasted. She 
 asked him several questions in relation to her, which 
 discovered her jealousy. As for Don Carlos, he let her 
 understand that he began to suspect her quality by reason 
 she had not been at the ball. She having taken notice of 
 it, used all the charms of her wit to remove his suspicions, 
 and favored him as far as was possible in a conversation 
 that passed with a grate between ; adding withal, that in a 
 short time she would become visible. Hereupon they 
 parted, Don Carlos very much in doubt whether he ought 
 to believe her, and she somewhat jealous of the fine person 
 he had entertained during the ball. The next day Don 
 Carlos going to hear mass at a certain church, the name of 
 which I have forgot, offered holy water to two veiled ladies 
 who went to take some at the same time with him. She 
 who appeared in the better clothes of the two told him she 
 never accepted of any civility from one with whom she 
 had a quarrel to decide. * If you are not too much in haste," 
 answered Don Carlos, "you may have satisfaction in that 
 this very moment." « Well," said the unknown lady, « follow 
 me then into the next chapel." She led the way, and Don, 
 Carlos followed, very much in doubt whether she was his 
 unknown mistress or not ; for though her shape was the 
 same, yet he found some difference between their voices, 
 this new lady speaking somewhat thick. This is the sub- 
 stance of what she told him after she had shut herself up 
 with him in the chapel. "All the city of Naples, Signior 
 Don Carlos, talks of the high reputation you have gained 
 during the little time you have been here ; and everybody 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 23 
 
 looks upon you as the most accomplished gentleman 
 in the world. The only thing that people wonder at is 
 your not taking notice that there are in this city some 
 ladies of quality and merit who have a particular esteem 
 for you ; they have discovered it to you as far as decency 
 would allow, and though it is their eager desires to make 
 you sensible of it, yet they had rather you had not taken 
 notice of it through insensibility, than that you should 
 have despised their favors through indifference. Among 
 the rest, there's one of my acquaintance who has so much 
 value for you, as to hazard her own reputation by telling 
 you that your night adventures are discovered; that you 
 rashly engage in an amour with one you do not know, and 
 that since your mistress conceals herself, she must either 
 be ashamed of her lover or conscious of not deserving to be 
 beloved herself. I question not but the object of your con- 
 templative love is a lady of great quality and wit, and that 
 your fancy has framed such a mistress as is worthy of ado- 
 ration upon all accounts. But, Signior Don Carlos, believe 
 not your imagination at the expense of your judgment ; 
 trust not a person who conceals herself, and engage no more 
 in these night conversations. But why should I disguise 
 myself any longer ? I myself am jealous of this phantom of 
 yours. I cannot bear you should speak with her ; and since 
 I have declared my mind so far, I will so thwart all her 
 designs, that I do not much question but I shall carry away 
 the prize, to which I have as much right as she, since I 
 am not inferior to her either in beauty, riches, quality, or 
 anything else that can bespeak love. If you are wise, you 
 will make use of this my advice." When she had spoke 
 these last words she went away without giving Don Carlos 
 time to answer her. He was going to follow her, but met 
 at the church gate a man of quality, who engaged him in 
 a tedious conversation, from which he could not rid him- 
 self. He reflected the remainder of the day upon this ad- 
 venture, and suspected at first the lady at the ball to be 
 the veiled person that had appeared to him. But then call- 
 ing to mind that she had showed abundance more wit than 
 he had found in this, he was at a loss what to think, and 
 wished almost not to have been engaged with his unknown mis- 
 
24 SCARRON 
 
 tress, that he might give himself entirely up to this. But 
 then again, considering that he knew her no better than 
 his invisible, whose wit had charmed him in all the 
 conversations he had had with her, he firmly resolved to be 
 constant to his first choice, without minding in the least 
 the threats of the last lady ; for he was not to be wrought 
 upon by fear or compulsion. That very night he failed not 
 to return to the grated window at the usual hour, where in 
 the height of his conversation with his mistress he was seized 
 by four strong men in masks, who, having disarmed him, 
 hurried him by force into a coach that waited for them at 
 the end of the street. I leave the reader to think how 
 many abusive names he gave those men in disguise, and 
 how he reproached them for attacking him so to disadvan- 
 tage. Nay, he endeavored to win them by promises, but 
 instead of persuading them he only made them to take more 
 care of him, and put himself out of hope of be- 
 ing able to show either his strength or courage. In the 
 meantime the coach and six horses drove on at full trot, 
 and having got out of the city, after an hour's traveling, 
 came into a great yard, the gate of which was kept open 
 to receive it. The four maskers alighted with Don Carlos 
 holding him under the arms like an ambassador introduced 
 to salute the grand signior. He was carried up one pair 
 of stairs in the same manner, where two gentlewomen in 
 masks came to receive him at the door of a large room, 
 each with a candlestick in her hand, when the four men in dis- 
 guise took their leave of him with a profound reverence. 
 It is probable they left him neither sword nor pistol, and 
 that he did not forget to thank them for their extraordi- 
 nary care of his person ; and yet perhaps he never thought 
 of it ; not but that he was a man of good breeding, but 
 upon a surprise a slip in point of civility ought to be 
 forgiven. Neither will I tell you whether the candlesticks 
 the gentlewomen had in their hands were silver, or only 
 silver-gilt and engraven. As for the room, it was the most 
 magnificent in the world, and if you would know it as well 
 furnished' as some apartments in our romances ; namely the 
 ship of Zelman in « Polexander » the palace of Ibra- 
 him in the *< Illustrious Bassa," or the room wherein the 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 25 
 
 king of Assyria received Mandoan in "Cyrus," which 
 together with the others I named before, is certainly 
 a book that has the best furniture in the world. 
 Now imagine what surprise our Spaniard was in to find 
 himself in this stately apartment with two speechless gen- 
 tlewomen in masks, who having conducted him into an- 
 other chamber, still better furnished than the great room, 
 left him there all alone. Had he been of Don Quixote's 
 humor, he would have found sufi&cient matter to please his 
 fancy, and imagined himself to be no less than Bsplandian 
 or Amadis. But our Spaniard was no more concerned than 
 if he had been in his inn, save only that he had a great 
 regret for his invisible lady ; and as he kept his thoughts 
 continually employed upon her, he found that chamber 
 more melancholy than a prison, which never looks pleasant 
 but on the outside. He was easily persuaded that these 
 who had provided him so fair a lodging were none of his 
 enemies ; and doubted not but the lady who spoke to him 
 the day before in the church was the conjurer that had 
 raised all these enchantments. He admired with himself 
 the fancies of women, and how soon they put their designs 
 in execution ; as for his part, he resolved to wait patiently 
 the end of this adventure, and be faithful to his invisible 
 mistress in spite of all the threats and promises he might 
 receive in this new lodging. A little while after several 
 servants in masks, and in very good clothes, came to lay 
 the cloth, and then served up supper. Everything belong- 
 ing to it was magnificent ; music and perfumes were not 
 forgotten ; and Don Carlos not only gratified his smelling 
 and hearing, but his taste also ; for he eat and drank 
 more than I thought a man in his condition could have 
 done. But what's impossible to so great a courage ! I 
 forgot to tell you that he washed his mouth, for I am in- 
 formed he took great care of his teeth. The music played 
 a while after supper, but all being withdrawn, Don Carlos 
 fetched many a turn about the room, reflecting on all these 
 enchantments, or perhaps on something else. Then came 
 in two gentlewomen and a dwarf all in masks, who, with- 
 out asking him whether he had a mind to go to bed or 
 not. spread a magnificent toilet in order to undress him. 
 
26 SCARRON 
 
 He complied with them in everything. The gentlewomen 
 turned down the bed-clothes and then withdrew. The 
 dwarf pulled ofE his shoes, stockings, or boots, and then 
 his other clothes; all which being done without exchang- 
 ing a word, Don Carlos went to bed and slept pretty well 
 for a man in love. At break of day he was waked by the 
 singing of birds that fluttered about in an aviary; the 
 dwarf came to wait upon him, and brought him the finest 
 linen in the world, and the best washed and perfumed. 
 If you think fit, I shall not mention what he did till 
 dinner (which was at least as good as his supper had 
 been), but pass to the first breaking of that profound 
 silence which had been observed to that very hour. A 
 gentlewoman in a mask began to speak by asking him if 
 he would be pleased to see the mistress of that enchanted 
 palace. Don Carlos said she should be welcome. And a 
 little while after she came in, attended by four gentle- 
 women very richly dressed. 
 
 «Such were not Cythera's charms, 
 
 When drest in gay and loose attire, 
 She flew to a new lover's arms, 
 Upon the wings of soft desire." 
 
 Never had our Spaniard seen a person of more mkjes- 
 tic mien than this unknown Urganda. He was so trans- 
 ported and surprised at the same time, that he stumbled 
 at every bow and step he made, as he led her into the 
 next room, whither she directed him. 
 
 All the fine things he had seen in the other rooms I 
 mentioned before were nothing in comparison to what he 
 found in this last, which still received a new brightness 
 from the lady in a mask. They walked on the finest foot- 
 carpet that ever was seen since foot-carpets have been in 
 fashion. There the Spaniard was placed in an arm-chair 
 in spite of himself, and the lady sitting by herself, on I 
 know not how many fine cushions over against him, she 
 ravished his ears with a voice as sweet as a harpsichord, 
 speaking to him to this effect: " I doubt not, Signior Don 
 Carlos, but you are much surprised at what has happened 
 to you in my house since yesterday ; but if all that is not 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 27 
 
 able to move you, yet by it you may see I am as good as 
 my word ; and from what I have done, you may guess 
 what I am able to do. Perhaps my rival, both by her 
 artifice and the advantage she has of having attacked you 
 first, has made herself absolute mistress of that heart which 
 I nevertheless pretend to dispute my right to with her ; 
 but a woman is not to be discouraged by the 'first disap- 
 pointment ; and if my fortune, which is not to be despised, 
 with all that goes along with iny person, cannot persuade 
 you to love me, yet shall I have the satisfaction of not 
 concealing myself out of shame or deceit, and choose to be 
 despised through my defects, rather than be beloved 
 through my artifice.'* As she spoke these last words she 
 pulled off her mask, and showed Don Carlos the heavens 
 with all their glories, or if you please, a heavenly minia- 
 ture : the finest head in the world, supported by the best 
 shape he ever admired before ; in short, a person all over 
 divine. By the freshness of her complexion one would not 
 have thought her to have been above sixteen years of age ; 
 but by a certain free and majestic air, which young per- 
 sons generally want, she appeared to be near twenty. Don 
 Carlos paused a while before he answered her, being almost 
 angry with his invisible lady, who hindered him from sur- 
 rendering himself entirely to the finest person he ever saw, 
 and dubious what he should say or do. At last, after an 
 inward conflict, which lasted so long as to make the mis- 
 tress of the enchanted palace uneasy, he took a firm reso- 
 lution not to conceal from her his inmost thoughts ; which, 
 without any manner of question, was the best thing he 
 ever did in his life. This is the answer he gave her, which 
 some have found a little too blunt. "Madam, I could not 
 but own myself extremely happy in your esteem, if my 
 stars would but suffer me to love you. I see well enough 
 that I leave the finest person in the universe for one who 
 perhaps is only such in my fancy ; but, madam, would 
 you think me worth your affection if you found me capa- 
 ble of infidelity? and how can I be faithful if I love you? 
 Therefore, madam, pity me, but blame me not ; or rather 
 let us pity each other and complain both ; you of not ob- 
 taining what you desire, and I of not seeing what I love." 
 
28 SCARRON 
 
 He uttered these words with such a melancholy air that 
 the lady might easily perceive he spoke his true senti- 
 ments. She used all the arguments she could think of to 
 persuade him to alter his mind, but he was deaf to her 
 prayers and unconcerned at her tears. She renewed the 
 attack several times, but met still with a stout resistance. 
 At last she began to revile and reproach him, and told 
 
 him, 
 
 «What rage and jealousy suggest, 
 When they possess a lovesick breast," 
 
 and then she left him, not to pick straws, but to curse a 
 hundred times his misfortune, which proceeded only from 
 being too happy. A gentlewoman came a little while after 
 to acquaint him that he had the liberty to walk in the 
 garden. He traversed all these fine apartments without 
 meeting with anybody, till he came to the staircase, at the 
 foot of which he saw ten men in masks, who kept the 
 door, armed with partisans and carbines. As he was cross- 
 ing the court to go into the garden, one of the gentlemen 
 of the guard accosted him without looking him in the face, 
 and told him, as though he feared to be overheard, that 
 an old gentleman had trusted him with a letter which he 
 had promised to deliver into his own hands, though his 
 life must answer for it if he should be discovered ; but 
 that a present of twenty pistoles, and a promise of as many 
 more, made him to run all hazards. Don Carlos promised 
 him secrecy, and went straight into the garden, where he 
 read the letter which was as follows : 
 
 " You may judge what pains I have felt since I lost you, 
 by those you ought to feel yourself, if you love me as 
 much as I do you. However, my uneasiness is something 
 abated by being informed of the place where you are. It 
 is the Princess Porcia who stole you away ; she is a 
 woman that sticks at nothing to please herself, and you 
 are not the first Rinaldo of that dangerous Armida. But I 
 will soon break all her enchantments and disengage you 
 from her arms, to receive you into mine, which favor you 
 will deserve, if you are as constant as I wish you to be. 
 
 "ThB InVISIBI<B lyADY.* 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 29 
 
 Don Carlos was so transported with joy to receive this 
 news from his lady, with whom he was reall}' in love, that 
 he kissed the letter a hundred times over, and came back 
 to the garden door to recompense the messenger with a 
 fine diamond ring he had on his finger. He walked a little 
 longer in the garden, still wondering at the Princess Por- 
 cia, whom, he often heard people report to be a young 
 rich lady of the best family in the kingdom ; but as he 
 was a person of strict virtue, he conceived such an aver- 
 sion for her, that he resolved to break out of his prison 
 even at the hazard of his life. As he came out of the 
 garden, he met a gentlewoman unmasked (for from that 
 time forward everybody went barefaced in the palace), who 
 came to ask if he would be pleased to have her mistress 
 eat with him ; and I leave you to think whether he 
 answered, she should be welcome. A little while after 
 they served up supper, or dinner for I have forgot which 
 of the two it ought to have been. Porcia appeared more 
 bright and handsome, I said just now, than Venus Citherea, 
 and it will not be amiss if, for variety sake, I now say, 
 than an angel : she was charming in every respect, and 
 during the time they were at table the Spaniard discovered 
 so much wit in her, that he was in a manner sorry to find 
 so many excellent qualities so ill-bestowed on a person of 
 so high a degree. He did all he could to appear in 
 good humor and force a pleasing countenance, although 
 he was continually thinking upon his unknown mistress, 
 and burned with impatience to return to the lattice-window. 
 As soon as the table was cleared they were left by 
 themselves, and because Don Carlos spoke not a word, 
 either out of respect or only to oblige the lady to 
 speak first, she broke silence in these words : " I know not 
 whether I ought to hope something from the gayety I fancy 
 I have discovered in your face ; and whether mine, which 
 you have seen already, does seem handsome enough to make 
 you doubt whether that of your invisible mistress has more 
 charms to captivate your heart. I do not conceal what I 
 designed to present you with, because I would not have 
 you repent the accepting my present ; and though a person 
 who has been used to be instructed by others be apt to be 
 
30 SCARRON 
 
 offended at a denial, yet will I forgive you, provided you 
 repair your past offense by giving me what I have more 
 right to than your invisible : therefore tell me your last 
 resolution, that if in case it be not in my behalf, I may at 
 least find out new reasons strong enough to combat those 
 which I think I had to love you." Don Carlos thought she 
 would have gone on with her speech ; but observing she 
 spoke no more, and that with eyes fixed on the ground 
 she expected her doom from his mouth, he resumed his 
 former resolution of telling her frankly that he could never 
 be hers, which he did in these words. " Madam, before I 
 answer what you would know of me, I must desire you, 
 that with the same frankness you expect from me, you 
 would be pleased to tell me your sentiments about what I 
 am going to propose to you. Suppose," added he, "you 
 had engaged a man to love you, and that by all the favors 
 a lady can grant without wronging her virtue you had 
 obliged him to swear an inviolable fidelity ; would you not 
 account him the basest and most treacherous of mankind 
 if he should fail in his promise ? and were I not that villain, 
 and that traitor, if I should leave for you a person who has 
 reason to think I love her ? " He was going to frame abun- 
 dance of logical arguments in order to convince her ; but 
 she did not give him time, and rising abruptly from her 
 seat, told him that she plainly saw the drift of his dis- 
 course ; that she could not but admire his constancy, though 
 so much opposite to her own quiet that she would set him 
 at liberty, and that she only desired him to stay till night 
 to go back in the same manner he came. While she was 
 speaking, she held her handkerchief to her eyes as though 
 she designed to conceal her tears, and afterward left the 
 Spaniard a little concerned ; yet so transported with 
 joy that he was to be again at liberty, that he had not 
 been able to conceal it had he been the greatest hyprocrite 
 in the world ; and I verily believe, that had the lady taken 
 notice of it, she would certainly have scolded at him for 
 it. I know not whether it was long before night came, for 
 as I told you before, I don't trouble myself about marking 
 the time or hours. You must be contented to know that 
 night came at last, and that he went into a close coach, 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 31 
 
 and was set down at his lodgings after a pretty long jour- 
 ney. As he was the best master in the world, so his serv- 
 ants were like to die with joy at the sight of him, and 
 almost stifled him with their embraces ; but they did not 
 enjoy him long ; for having provided himself with arms, 
 and taken two of his stoutest men along with him, he 
 presently went to the grated window in such great haste, 
 that those who accompanied him had much ado to keep 
 pace with him. He had no sooner given the usual signal 
 but his invisible deity communicated herself to him ; when 
 they exchanged such soft and tender expressions, that I 
 cannot forbear weeping whenever I think of them. At last 
 the lady told him she had been lately affronted in that 
 house, and therefore had sent for a coach in order to leave 
 it ; but because it might be a long while a coming, she de- 
 sired him to send for his, which might be sooner got 
 ready ; and that she would carry him to a place where she 
 would no longer conceal her face from him. The Spaniard 
 needed no farther entreaty, but ran like a madman to his 
 men, whom he had left at the end of the street, and sent for 
 his coach in all haste. The coach being come, the invisible 
 lady kept her word, and went into it with Don Carlos. 
 She directed the coachman which way he should drive, and 
 bid him stop at a great house, into the courtyard of which 
 the coach went by the light of several flambeaus, which 
 were lighted at their arrival. The cavalier leading his lady, 
 went up stairs into a very large room, where he was a 
 little uneasy because she did not pull off her mask. At 
 last several gentlewomen being come to receive them, with 
 each a candlestick in their hands, the lady was invisible no 
 longer ; but pulling off her mask, let Don Carlos see that 
 the lady at the grated window and the Princess Porcia 
 were but one person. I will not endeavor to describe the 
 pleasant surprise of the Spaniard. The fair Neapolitan told 
 him she had stolen him away a second time to know his 
 last resolution ; that the lady at the lattice had made over 
 to her all her pretensions, and added a thousand expres- 
 sions no less obliging than ingenious. Don Carlos threw 
 himself at her feet, embraced her knees, and devoured, as 
 one may say, her hands with kisses ; by that means avoid- 
 
32 SCARRON 
 
 ing all the impertinence and nonsense which people gener- 
 ally speak when they are transported with joy. The 
 raptures of his passion being over, he used all his wit and 
 eloquence to extol the agreeable caprice of his mistress, 
 and expressed himself so well to her advantage, that he 
 confirmed her she was not mistaken in her choice. She 
 told him she had been unwilling to trust anybody but herself 
 in a thing, without which she could never have loved him ; 
 and that she would never have bestowed herself upon a 
 man less constant than himself. Thereupon the Princess 
 Porcia's relations came in, having had notice given them of 
 her design. And as they were the chief men in the king- 
 dom, they easily obtained a dispensation from the arch- 
 bishop for their marriage. The same night the ceremony 
 was performed by the parson of the parish, who was an 
 honest priest and a good preacher ; and so ' twere needless 
 to ask whether he made a fine exhortation upon the sub- 
 ject. It is said they got up late the next day, which I 
 am inclined to believe. The news was soon spread about, 
 at which the viceroy, a near relation of Don Carlos' s was 
 so overjoyed, that the public rejoicings began anew in 
 Naples, where to this day they talk of Don Carlos of Arra- 
 gon and his invisible mistress. 
 
 HOW RAGOTIN RECEIVED A BLOW ON THE FIN- 
 GERS WITH A BUSK 
 
 Ragotin's story had a general applause, and he valued 
 himself as much upon it as if it had been his own ; 
 which swelling his natural pride, he began to treat 
 the men players with contempt, and afterward accosting 
 the women, squeezed their hands without their consent, 
 and offered to feel their breasts ; a piece of country gal- 
 lantry which favors more of the satyr than gentleman. 
 Mistress Star contented herself to force her soft, fair hands 
 from his dirty rough clutches ; but Mrs. Angelica, her com- 
 panion, gave him, withal smiling, a rap on the fingers with 
 her busk. He left them abruptly, without so much as 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 33 
 
 Speaking a word, glowing with rage and confusion, and re- 
 turned to the men's company, where everyone spoke as 
 fast as he could without minding what the rest said. 
 Ragotin silenced most of them by demanding of them, with 
 a superior voice, what they thought of his novel. A young 
 man, whose name I have forgot, answered him bluntly, it 
 was no more his than anybody else's in the company, since 
 he had it out of a book ; whereupon seeing one stick out 
 of Ragotin's pocket he pulled it out, which the little man 
 perceiving, scratched his hands to get it from him ; but in 
 spite of Ragotin he put it in another man's hands, from 
 whom Ragotin endeavored to snatch it, to as little purpose 
 as before. The book having got by this time into a third 
 man's hands after the same manner, passed to five or six 
 different hands more ; which Ragotin however could not 
 reach, because he was the shortest man in the company. 
 At last, having stretched himself five or six times in vain, 
 torn half a dozen pairs of cuffs, scratched as many hands, 
 and the book still traveling about through the middle region 
 of the chamber, poor Ragotin, who saw everybody laugh 
 at his expense, rushed like a madman upon the first author 
 of his confusion, and dealt him several blows on his belly 
 and thighs, not being able to reach higher. The hands of 
 liis adversary, who had the advantage of the place, fell five 
 or six times so perpendicular and heavy on the top of his 
 head, that the crown of his hat sunk down to his very 
 chin ; which so shook the seat of his reason, that the poor 
 little man did not for some time know where he was. To 
 complete his defeat, his antagonist at parting gave him a 
 sound kick on the head, which after a very sudden retro- 
 gradation, made him fall on his breech, at the women 
 players' feet. Now, if possible, I would have you to con- 
 ceive the rage and fury of a little man, more proud than 
 all the sieurs in the kingdom, at a time when he was cock- 
 a-hoop about his story ; and that too before players to 
 whom he designed to make love, as you shall see anon, 
 though he was yet ignorant which of them had the 
 greater title to his heart. To speak the truth, his little 
 body thus tumbled on his breech, did so lively represent 
 the fury of his soul by the different motions of his arms 
 3 
 
34 SCARRON 
 
 and legs, that though his face could not be seen, because 
 his whole head was encased into his hat, yet all the com- 
 pany though fit to join and form as it were a barrier be- 
 twixt Ragotin and his adversary ; who by this means got 
 away, while the charitable women players raised the poor 
 little man, roaring like a lion in his hat, which stopped his 
 eyes and mouth, and almost hindered him from fetching 
 his breath. Now the difficulty was, how to pull off this 
 hat of his ; for its crown being in the form of a butter-pot, 
 and the mouth of it narrower than the bottom, God knows 
 whether a head that got inself into it by force, and whose 
 nose was so excessively large, was able to get out the same 
 way. This misfortune had a good effect ; for his anger be- 
 ing now at the highest, without doubt its eflfects had been 
 answerable, had not his hat, which suffocated him, made 
 him to consult his own preservation rather than contrive 
 the destruction of another. He did not cry out for help, 
 because he had not the use of his tongue; but when the 
 company perceived he lifted up in vain his trembling hands 
 to his head in order to set it at liberty, and stamped on 
 the floor with rage and indignation, biting his nails to no 
 purpose, they all bent their thoughts on his relief. The 
 first efforts they used to pull off his hat were so violent, 
 that he thought they had been going to pluck off his head 
 from his shoulders. At last, being almost spent, he made 
 signs with his fingers to have it cut with a pair of scissors. 
 Mistress Cave unclasped those she wore on her girdle ; and 
 Rancour, who was to perform the operation, having made 
 a show of making the incision over against his face (which 
 did not a little fright him), at last he slit his hat behind 
 his head from top to bottom. As soon as he had given 
 vent to his face, all the company fell a laughing to see it 
 bloated, as if it had been ready to burst, upon account of 
 the vast quantity of spirits that had flushed to it ; and be- 
 sides, his nose was a little excoriated. However the jest 
 had gone no father, had not a bungling tailor advised him 
 to get his hat fine-drawn. This unseasonable advice so 
 revived his anger, which was not entirely extinguished, that 
 he laid hold of one of the andirons, and threatened to throw 
 it at the company ; which put the stoutest of them all into 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 35 
 
 such a fright, that every one ran to the door in order to 
 avoid the impending blow. They pressed so far upon one 
 another that not above one was able to get out ; and he 
 too by a fall, his sparred legs having entangled themselves 
 with those of the rest. Ragotin fell a laughing in his turn, 
 which gave all the company fresh courage ; they returned 
 him his book, and the players lent him an old hat. He 
 fell into a violent passion against the man who used him 
 so scurvily ; but being somewhat more vain than revenge- 
 ful, he told the players, with the air of one that was going 
 to promise some extraordinary thing, that he had a mind 
 to make a play out of this story of his, and would contrive 
 it so well, that he was sure to get as much reputation by 
 that single piece as other poets had in all their lives gained 
 by several. Destiny told him the story he had related was 
 very entertaining, but would by no means fit the stage. 
 "Sure,'' said Ragotin, "you won't pretend to teach me? I 
 would have you to know that my mother was seamstress to 
 the poet Garnier, and I myself have one of his ink-horns at 
 home." Destiny replied that even Garnier would get no 
 reputation by it, if he was to do it himself. "But what 
 difficulty do you find in it ? " asked Ragotin. " The diffi- 
 culty," answered Destiny, "is in that it cannot be brought 
 into a regular play without committing a great many faults, 
 both in point of decorum and judgment." "As for that," 
 said Ragotin, " a man of my parts may make new rules 
 whenever he pleases. Pray consider," added he, "what a 
 new and magnificent thing it would be to represent a great 
 church-gate in front of the stage, before which twenty beaux, 
 more or less, with as many ladies, should appear and speak 
 a thousand fine things to one another ; would it not ravish 
 all the spectators with admiration, think you? I am so far 
 of your opinion," continued he, "that one ought to observe 
 decorum and good manners, and therefore would not make 
 my actors talk in the church." Destiny interrupted, to ask 
 him where they could get so many gentlemen and ladies. 
 "And how do they in colleges," said Ragotin, "where 
 they fight pitched battles? I myself played at I^a Fl^che 
 the overthrow at the Bridge of C6," added he; "above a 
 hundred soldiers of the queen-mother's party appeared on 
 
36 SCARRON 
 
 the stage, besides those of the king's army, which was more 
 numerous ; and I remember, that by reason of a great shower 
 that fell that day and spoiled the sport, it was reported 
 that all the feathers of the country gentry, which had been 
 borrowed on this occasion, would never come to themselves 
 again. » Destiny, who took great delight in hearing him 
 utter all these judicious things, replied that colleges had 
 scholars enough for that purpose, whereas their company 
 did never consist in all of above seven or eight persons. 
 Rancour, who, you know, had ever been a malicious dog, 
 sided with Ragotin in this matter, the better to help to 
 make him ridiculous, and told his comrade he was not of 
 his opinion ; that he had been a player before him ; that a 
 church-gate would be the finest scene that ever was seen ; 
 and as for the necessary number of gentlemen and ladies, 
 that they might have some flesh and blood, and represent 
 the rest with pasteboard. This fine expedient of paste- 
 board, invented by Rancour, set all the company a laughing. 
 Ragotin laughed with the rest, and swore he knew that 
 contrivance well enough, but had a mind to keep it to him- 
 self. * As for coaches," added he, "will it not be a novelty 
 in a play ? I formerly personated Toby's dog, and did it so 
 to the life, that the whole audience was highly pleased with 
 my performance, taking me to be a real dog. As for my 
 part,* continued he, "if we may judge of things by the 
 effects they work upon our minds, I never saw * Pyramus 
 and Thisbe' acted in my life, but I was less concerned at 
 Pyramus' s death than frightened by the roaring of the lion." 
 Rancour backed Ragotin' s reasons with others as ridiculous, 
 and by that means ingratiated himself so far into him, that 
 Ragotin took him to supper. All the other impertinents 
 left likewise the players at liberty ; who it is probable had 
 much rather go to supper than entertain these idle cox- 
 combs of the town. 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 37 
 
 THIS CONTAINS WHAT YOU' LI. FIND, IF YOU'LIy 
 BUT TAKE THE PAINS TO READ IT 
 
 RAGOTiN carried Rancour to a tavern, where he called 
 for the best things the house could afford. It is 
 thought he would not carry him to his own house, 
 because his commons were but indifferent ; but I will say- 
 nothing about that, for fear of passing rash judgment ; 
 neither did I care to inquire much into the truth of the 
 business, because I did not think it worth my while, es- 
 pecially having matters of far greater importance to relate. 
 Rancour, who was a person of great discernment and knew 
 his men at first sight, no sooner saw a brace of partridges 
 and a capon served up for two people, then he began to 
 think that Ragotin had some design or other, and did not 
 treat him so well, either upon account of his own merit, 
 or to repay the civility he had received from him in main- 
 taining his story to be a good subject for a play. He 
 therefore expected to hear some new extravagance from 
 Ragotin, who, however, did not discover his thoughts at 
 first, but continued talking about his novel. Notwith- 
 standing he at length repeated several lampoons he had 
 made upon most of his neighbors, some cuckolds that were 
 nameless, and other women. He sang drunken catches, and 
 showed Rancour abundance of acrostics and anagrams, 
 which are generally the first things with which your pal- 
 try rhymers begin to plague men of sense. Rancour made 
 him a complete coxcomb by crying up all he heard, with 
 eyes lifted to heaven, and swore like a losing game- 
 ster, that he never heard anything so fine in his life : nay, 
 he was so transported, that he made a show of pulling off 
 his hair in an ecstasy of pleasure. He told him now and 
 then, " It is a great misfortune both for you and us, that 
 you do not leave off all other business and write for the 
 stage ; for in such case, in two or three years time, Corneille 
 would be no more talked of than Alexander Hardy is now. 
 I am," added he, "an absolute stranger to flattery; but to 
 encourage you, must needs own I no sooner saw you but 
 
38 SCARRON 
 
 I read in your face that you were a great poet; and you 
 may be satisfied by my comrades what I told them about 
 it. I am seldom mistaken ; I can smell a poet at two 
 miles' distance ; and therefore as soon as ever I cast my 
 eyes on you, I was acquainted with your genius as well as 
 if I had brought you up. " All this fulsome stuff went down 
 with Ragotin as glib as several glasses of wine, which he 
 drank at the same time, and which intoxicated his brain as 
 much as Rancour's commendations swelled his vanity. As 
 for Rancour, he eat and drank very heartily, crying out now 
 and then, " For God's sake, Monsieur Ragotin, improve your 
 talent. Once more let me tell you, you are much to blame 
 not to make your fortune and ours. For my part, I scrawl 
 a little paper sometimes as well as other people, but if I 
 could make verses half so good as those you have been 
 reading to me, I should not have been so hard put to it to 
 keep life and soul together, but would live upon my income 
 as well as Mondori. Therefore, Monsieur Ragotin, once more 
 pray write ; and if this next winter we do not eclipse the 
 companies of the H&tel de Bourgogne and des Marez, may 
 I never tread the stage more without breaking one of my 
 arms or legs. I will say no more, and so let's drink." He 
 was as good as his word ; for having put a double quantum 
 into a glass, he drank Monsieur Ragotin's health to Monsieur 
 Ragotin himself, who pledged him after the same manner, 
 and returned his civility with drinking the health of the 
 women players. This he drank cap in hand, and in such 
 a rapture, that as he set the glass down on the table he 
 broke its foot, without taking notice of it ; however, he 
 afterward attempted three or four times to set it upright, 
 but finding it impossible, he at last flung it over his head; 
 when pulling Rancour by the sleeve, he let him know 
 he had had the honor of breaking a glass in drinking 
 the players' health. It vexed him a little that Rancour 
 did not laugh at it ; but, as I said before, he was 
 rather an envious than a risible animal. Rancour asked 
 
 him what he thought of their women. The little man 
 
 blushed without giving an answer. But Rancour putting 
 the same question to him again, at last, what by his 
 stuttering, blushing, and broken speech, he gave Rancour 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 39 
 
 to understand that he liked one of the players extremely. 
 " But which of them ? " quoth Rancour. The little man 
 was so disordered for having said so much, that he an- 
 swered, "I don't know." "Nor I neither," said Rancour. 
 This reply cast him into greater disorder ; insomuch that 
 with a bewildered look he said, "It is, it is" He re- 
 peated the same words five or six times over again; at 
 which the stroller growing impatient, cried, " I like your 
 choice, she is a very beautiful person." This put him 
 quite out of countenance, insomuch that he could never 
 tell which he loved most ; though it may be he knew 
 nothing of the matter himself, or that his passion was 
 rather lust than love. At last Rancour naming Mrs. Star, 
 he said it was she with whom he was in love. For my 
 part, I verily believe that had he named either Angelica 
 or her mother Cave, he would have forgot the blow he had 
 received with a busk from the one, and the age of the 
 other, and given himself body and soul to the very first 
 that Rancour had named, so great was the confusion of 
 goatish Ragotin. The stroller however made him drink a 
 good bumper, which carrying o£E part of it, pledged him 
 with another ; which done, looking about the room, he 
 whispered, as though it were a great secret he was about 
 to tell, though there were nobody. "Well, your wound is 
 not mortal," quoth Rancour; "and you have addressed 
 yourself to one who is able to cure you, provided you will 
 be but ruled by him and keep counsel ; not but your en- 
 terprise is a little difficult, for Mrs. Star is a very tigress, 
 and her brother Destiny a lion. But still, she does not 
 see men every day like you, and I know not what ;I can 
 do. I/Ct's drink out our liquor, and to-morrow will be 
 day." They drank each a glass of wine, which interrupted 
 their conversation for a while. After this Ragotin re- 
 counted all his accomplishments and riches, and told Ran- 
 cour that a nephew of his was clerk to a financier ; that 
 this nephew had contracted great friendship with the Par- 
 tisan de Ralliere during the time he was at Mans to settle 
 an excise office there, by the means of which nephew's 
 interest he endeavored to give him hopes that he would pro- 
 cure him such a pension from the king as his players in 
 
40 SCARRON 
 
 ordinary had. He told him likewise, that if any of his re- 
 lations had children, he could prefer them in the Church, 
 by reason his niece had married the brother of a certain 
 miss, kept by the steward of an abbot of that province, 
 who had good livings in his gift. While Ragotin was 
 thus relating what great interest he had, Rancour, who 
 the more he drank the more thirsty he grew, was still fill- 
 ing both the glasses, which were emptied in an instant, 
 Ragotin not daring to refuse anything from the hands of a 
 man from whom he expected such a great piece of service. 
 In short, they swilled it about till they had both their 
 fill. Rancour, according to his custom, grew more serious, 
 but Ragotin became So dull and heavy, that he laid down 
 his head on the table and fell asleep. Rancour called one 
 of the maids to make a bed ready for him, because 
 nobody was up at his inn. The maid told him she 
 had as good make two, for she was sure Monsieur 
 Ragotin wanted one as well as he. In the meantime, he 
 slept and snored as heartily as ever he had done in 
 his life, for all the noise they made while they were 
 putting clean sheets on two of the three beds that were in 
 the room. But when the maid came /to wake him, and 
 acquaint him his bed was ready, he^called her a thousand 
 flirts, and threatened to beat her. At last Rancour, 
 having turned him in his chair toward the fire, at which 
 the sheets were aired, he rubbed and opened his eyes, and 
 suffered himself to be undressed without repining. They 
 got him into his bed as well as they could ; and Rancour, 
 having first made the chamber-door fast, went into his. 
 About an hour after Ragotin got up, to what purpose I 
 never yet could learn. He rambled a long time about the 
 room, not knowing where he was ; and having overturned 
 all the chairs and tables he met in his way, and tumbled 
 himself down several times, without being able to find his 
 bed again, he went at last to Rancour's and pulling his 
 bed-clothes, made him to start out of his sleep. Rancour 
 asked him what he would have. " I am looking for my 
 bed," said Ragotin. «It is on the left-hand of mine," 
 replied Rancour. The little drunken man, however, took to 
 the right, and thrust himself betwixt the rug and mattress 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 41 
 
 of the third bed, which had neither feather-bed, quilt, nor 
 sheets, and there he slept all night very quietly. Rancour 
 got up and dressed himself before Ragotiu waked ; when 
 he asked him whether it was to do penance that he had 
 left his bed to sleep on straw. Ragotin was positive that 
 he never got up, and that the room must be haunted. 
 The innkeeper hearing this, stood up for the reputation of 
 his house, and picking a quarrel with Ragotin, threatened 
 to sue him for giving it an ill name. But I have suf- 
 ficiently exercised your patience with this tedious story of 
 Ragotin 's debauch, and therefore let us return to the 
 strollers' inn. 
 
 A COMBAT IN THE NIGHT 
 
 I AM too much a man of honor not to advertise the 
 courteous reader, that if he be offended at all the silly 
 trifles he has already found in this book, he will do 
 well not to go on with the reading of it ; for, upon my 
 conscience, he must expect nothing else, although the vol- 
 ume should swell to the bigness of that of the Grand 
 Cyrus : and if from what he has read he doubts what will 
 follow, perhaps I am in the same quandary as well as he. 
 For one chapter draws on another, and I do with my book 
 as some do with their horses, putting the bridle on their 
 necks, and trusting to their good conduct. But perhaps I 
 have a fixed design, and without filling my chapters with 
 examples for imitation, shall instruct with delight after the 
 same manner as a drunken man creates in us an aversion 
 for drunkenness, and yet may sometimes divert us with 
 his merry impertinence. Let us end this moral reflection, 
 and return to our strollers, whom we left in the inn. 
 As soon as their room was cleared, and Rancour had 
 got thither with Ragotin, the doorkeeper they left at 
 Tours came into the inn with a horseload of goods, 
 and sat down to supper with them. By this person, 
 and what they had learned from one another, they under- 
 stood how the intendant of the province could do them 
 
42 SCARRON 
 
 no harm, having had much ado to escape the hands 
 of the boisterous mob, with his fusiliers. Destiny told 
 his comrades how he had got away in his Turkish 
 habit, with which he designed to represent Mairet's "Soli- 
 man " ; and that being informed that the plague was at 
 Alencon, he was come to Mans with Cave and Rancour, 
 with the same equipage we have described in the beginning 
 of these most true, though little heroical adventures. Mrs. 
 Star acquainted them also with the good offices she had re- 
 ceived from a lady at Tours, whose name never came to 
 my knowledge, and how by her means she had been 
 conducted as far as a village near Bonnestable, where she 
 sprained her foot as she alighted off her horse. She added 
 that hearing the company was gone to Mans, she got her- 
 self carried thither in a litter, which the lady of that vil- 
 lage had lent her with a great deal of civility. After 
 supper, Destiny alone stayed in the lady's chamber. Cave 
 loved him as if he had been her own son ; Mrs. Star 
 was no less dear to her ; and her daughter and only heiress, 
 Angelica, loved Destiny and Star like a brother and sister. 
 She did not yet exactly know who they were, nor upon 
 what account they had turned players; but she had taken 
 notice, that though they called one another brother and 
 sister, yet were they better friends than near relations ; that 
 Destiny paid to Star the greatest respect imaginable ; that 
 she was extremely modest and virtuous : and as Destiny 
 had a great deal of wit, and seemed to have a liberal ed- 
 ucation, so Mrs. Star looked more like a young lady of 
 quality than a stroller. Now Destiny and Star were be- 
 loved by Cave and her daughter, because they really de- 
 served their love both by their good qualities and the 
 mutual friendship which they naturally had for two play- 
 ers, who had as much merit as any in France, though they 
 never had the good fortune to tread either of the two 
 theatres in Paris, which are the non plus ultra of French 
 players. Those who do not understand these three little 
 Latin words (which come so pat in my way, that I could 
 not refuse to place them here) may be pleased to ask some 
 Latinist of their acquaintance the meaning of them. To 
 end this digression ; Destiny and Star did not scruple to 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 43 
 
 express their mutual fondness before Cave and Angelica, 
 and show the extreme joy they had to see each other after 
 so long an absence. They related, as pathetically as ever 
 they could, how uneasy they were about each other ; and 
 Destiny acquainted Mrs. Star, that the last time they acted at 
 Tours, he thought he had spied their inveterate persecutor 
 among the crowd of their auditors, although he had his cloak 
 about his face : and that as he went out of the city, not finding 
 himself able to resist him if he should have offered to attack him, 
 he had disguised himself by putting a great patch on his 
 face. While Destiny was speaking, poor Mrs. Star could 
 not forbear shedding some few tears : Destiny was sensibly 
 touched with them ; and having comforted her as well as 
 he could, added, that if she would but suffer him to use 
 the same endeavors in seeking out their enemy as he had 
 used till then in avoiding him, he would soon free her from 
 his persecutions, or lose his life in the attempt. These last 
 words redoubled her grief : Destiny had not courage enough 
 to forbear grieving likewise ; and Cave and her daughter, who 
 were of a tender and compassionate temper, grieved also, 
 either out of complaisance or through contagion. I cannot 
 tell whether Destiny wept, but this I know, the women and 
 he were silent a long while ; and in the meantime every one 
 wept as they thought fit. At last Cave renewed the con- 
 versation which tears had interrupted, and reproached Destiny 
 and Star, that though during the time they had lived together 
 they might have been convinced how much she was their 
 friend, yet they reposed so little confidence in her and her 
 daughter, that they were still unacquainted with their birth and 
 quality ; adding, she had not met with crosses enough in 
 her life to enable her to advise unfortunate persons such 
 as they two seemed to be. To which Destiny answered, 
 that their not discovering themselves to her was not out of 
 any distrust, but because he thought the recital of their 
 misfortunes could not but be very tedious ; telling her 
 withal, that he would be ready to entertain her with the 
 story of their adventures whenever she was willing to throw 
 any time away upon the hearing of it. Cave was glad of 
 this opportunity to satisfy her curiosity ; and her daughter, 
 who had the same inclination, being sat near her on Star's 
 
44 SCARRON 
 
 bed, Destiny was about to begin his story, when they heard 
 a great noise in the next chamber. Destiny stood listening 
 a while; but the noise and squabble increasing, and some- 
 body crying out, " Murder ! help ! murder ! " — he with three 
 leaps got out of the chamber at the expense of his doublet, 
 which Cave and Angelica had torn as they were going to 
 stop him. He went into the chamber from whence the 
 noise came, which was so dark that he could not see his 
 own nose ; and where the fisticuffs, boxes on the ears, and 
 several confused voices of fighting men and women, 
 together with the hollow noise of naked feet stamping on 
 the floor, made a hideous and frightful uproar. He ran 
 very rashly among the combatants, and in one moment 
 received a cuff on one side, and a box on the ear on the 
 other ; which changed his good intention of parting those 
 hobgoblins into a violent thirst for revenge. He began to 
 set his hands agoing, and made a flourish with his two 
 arms, by which many a maimed chops were belabored, as 
 it afterward appeared by his bloody fists. The scuffle 
 lasted so long that he received twenty cuffs more, which he 
 however returned with double the number. In the heat of 
 the fight he felt himself bit on the calf of the leg, when 
 clapping his hands to the place, he met with something 
 hairy, which he for that reason took to be a dog ; but Cave 
 and her daughter, who appeared at the chamber door at 
 that interim with a candle, like the fire of St. Helmo after 
 a storm, discovered to Destiny that he was amid seven 
 persons in their shirts, who having been in close conflict 
 before, began to let one another go as soon as the light 
 appeared. This tranquillity however did not last long. 
 The innkeeper, who was one of the naked combatants, 
 grappled the poet anew ; Olive, who was also among 
 them, was attacked by the innkeeper's man, another of the 
 combatants ; Destiny went to part them ; whereupon the 
 hostess, who was the animal that had bit him, and whom 
 he had taken for a dog by reason she was bare-headed and 
 had short hair, flew at his face, assisted by two maids, as 
 naked and bare-headed as herself. The shrieks and cries 
 filled the air once more, the cuffs and boxes made the room 
 to ring again, and the fight grew still warmer and warmer. 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 45 
 
 At last several persons who waked at the noise came into 
 the field of battle, parted the combatants, and procured a 
 second suspension of arms. Now the question was to 
 know the occasion of the quarrel, and what fatal accident 
 had brought seven naked persons into one room. Olive, 
 who seemed the least concerned, said that the poet being 
 gone out of the room, he saw him come running back as 
 fast as he could, followed by the innkeeper, who seemed to 
 have a mind to beat him ; that the hostess followed her 
 husband, fell foul of the poet ; that as he was going to part 
 them, a servant and two maids fell upon him ; and that the 
 light happening to go out at the same time, made the fight 
 last longer than it would otherwise have done. Now it 
 was the poet's turn to speak for himself. He said that 
 having made two of the finest stanzas that ever was written 
 since stanzas were in fashion, and fearing to lose them, he 
 went to the maid of the inn for a candle, which she scorn- 
 fully refused to give him ; whereupon the innkeeper called 
 him rope-dancer, which he returned by calling him 
 cuckold. He had no sooner spoke this last word but the 
 host, who was within reach, gave him a good slap on the 
 chops ; you would have thought they had made a fighting 
 concert together ; for as soon as the box on the ear was 
 given, the innkeeper's wife, his man, and his maids rushed 
 upon the strollers altogether, who received them with 
 sound cuffs. This last encounter was more fierce and ob- 
 stinate than either of the other two. Destiny having 
 closed with a lusty wench and tucked up her skirts, gave 
 her a thousand slaps ; Olive, who saw the company pleased 
 with it, did the same to the other maids. The innkeeper 
 was busy with the poet ; and the hostess, the most furious 
 of all the combatants, was seized by some of the specta- 
 tors ; which made her to fly into such a passion, that she 
 cried out " Thieves ! thieves ! " Her cries woke I/a Rap- 
 piniere, who lived over against the inn. He caused the 
 door to be broken open, and judging by the noise he 
 heard that there could be no less than seven or eight peo- 
 ple killed, he parted the fray in the king's name ; and 
 having learned the cause of all the disturbance, exhorted 
 the poet not to make any more verses in the night-time. 
 
46 SCARRON 
 
 and was like to have beaten the innkeeper and his wife for 
 giving a hundred abusive names to the players, whom they 
 called jack-puddings and tumblers, swearing, withal, to 
 turn them out of doors the next day ; but La Rappiniere, 
 to whom the innkeeper owed money, threatening to arrest 
 him, his mouth was soon stopped. I<a Rappinifere after 
 the fray went home, the rest returned to their chambers, 
 and Destiny to that of the players, where Cave desired 
 him not to defer any longer relating the history of his and 
 his sister's adventures. He told her he was ready to sat- 
 isfy her curiosity, and began his relation after the manner 
 you shall find in the following chapter. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF DESTINY AND MRS. STAR 
 
 I WAS born in a village near Paris, and might make you 
 believe I came of a very illustrious family, since nobody 
 can disprove what a stranger says of himself ; but I am 
 too generous, and too much a lover of truth, to deny the 
 meanness of my extraction. My father was one of the 
 topping and most substantial men in his village, whom I 
 have often heard to say that he was a poor gentleman's 
 son ; that he had spent his youth in the wars, where hav- 
 ing got nothing but dry blows and empty pockets, he be- 
 took himself to the service of a rich Parisian lady in the 
 quality of her gentleman usher ; and that having scraped 
 together a sum of money in this place (because he was 
 also the steward and caterer of the house, and had the 
 knack of emptying his mistress's purse to fill his own 
 pockets) he married an old waiting-woman of the family, 
 who died soon after, and left him all she had got 
 in her service. Being soon weary of the condition of 
 a widower, and no less of that of a servant, he mar- 
 ried a country-woman, who furnished his lady's house 
 with bread. And it is to this last marriage that I owe 
 my birth. My father was called Gariquet ; what coun- 
 try he was of I could never yet learn ; and as for my 
 mother's name, it signifies nothing to my story. I>t it 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 47 
 
 suffice that she was more covetous than my father, and 
 my father more covetous than she, and that they had both 
 a pretty large conscience. My father had the honor of 
 being the inventor of the piece of flesh tied with a string 
 to the pot-handle, which having boiled a considerable time, 
 may be taken out again, and serve several times to make 
 soup. I could tell a hundred more particulars of his good 
 husbandry, which gained him, with justice, the reputation 
 of a man of wit and invention ; but for fear of being too 
 tedious, I will content myself with relating only two, 
 which may seem incredible, though they are most certainly 
 true. He had bought up a great quantity of corn, with 
 design to sell it very dear in case the year should prove 
 bad ; but the harvest being plentiful, and corn falling in 
 its price, he was so possessed with despair and the devil, 
 that he had an inclination to hang himself. One of the 
 neighbors who happened to be in the room when he en- 
 tered upon that noble design, and had hid herself for fear 
 of being seen (for what reason I know not), was not a 
 little surprised when she saw him hang dangling on one of 
 the joists of the ceiling. She immediately ran to him, 
 crying out " Help ! help ! " and began to cut the rope ; and 
 by the help of my mother, who came in at the noise, got 
 it from his neck. Perhaps they repented the doing of so 
 good an action, for he beat them both to mummy, and 
 made that poor woman pay for the rope she had cut, by 
 stopping some money he owed her. His other prank is no 
 less strange. He grudged himself whatever he ate, and his 
 wife being brought to bed of a boy, the fancy took him in 
 the crown that she had milk enough to nourish both his 
 son and himself ; and hoped that by sucking his wife he 
 should save bread and live upon a food of easy digestion. 
 My mother's wit was much inferior to his, though her 
 avarice was as great ; but though she did not invent things 
 as my father did, yet having once conceived them she put 
 them in execution with more exactness than he could. She 
 therefore tried to nourish both her son and her husband 
 with her own milk, and ventured also to feed upon it her- 
 self, with so much obstinacy, that the little innocent crea- 
 ture was soon starved to death ; and my father and mother 
 
48 SCARRON 
 
 were so weakened and famished, that when they returned 
 to meat they surfeited themselves, and fell both sick upon 
 it. Sometime after my mother went with child with 
 me, and having happily brought forth a most unhappy 
 creature, my father went to Paris to desire his mistress to 
 stand godmother to his son, together with an honest 
 churchman, residing at his village, where he had a bene- 
 fice. As he was returning home in the evening to avoid 
 the heat of the day, and passed through a great street in 
 the suburbs, the houses whereof were for the most part 
 a-building, he saw afar off by the moonshine somewhat 
 that glittered in his eyes, as he was crossing the street. 
 He did not think it worth while to inquire what it was; 
 but hearing the groans of one in pain at the same place 
 where what he had seen vanished out of his sight, he 
 boldly entered one of those unfinished buildings, where he 
 found a woman sitting alone on the ground. The place 
 she was in received sufficient light from the moon to let 
 my father perceive that she was very young and very 
 richly clad, having on a gown of silver tissue, which was 
 the glittering thing my father saw the moment before. 
 You must not question that my father, who did not want 
 resolution, was less surprised than the young lady ; for she 
 was in a condition that nothing worse could happen to her. 
 This consideration gave her the assurance to speak first 
 and tell my father that if he was a Christian he would 
 take pity on her; that she was in labor ready to be 
 brought to bed, and that the maid she had sent for a 
 trusty midwife not returning, she had slipped away from 
 her house without waking anybody, her maid having left 
 the door open that she might come in again without mak- 
 ing any noise. She had scarce made an end of this short re- 
 lation but she was delivered of a child, which my father 
 received into the lappet of his cloak. He acted the midwife 
 as well as he could, and the young lady conjured him to 
 carry away the creature with all speed, to take care of it, 
 and not to fail two days after to go to an old churchman 
 she named to him, who would give him money and all 
 necessary orders for nursing of the child. At this word 
 money my father, who had a penurious soul, was going to 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 49 
 
 display all the eloquence of a gentleman usher, but she 
 would not give him time ; she put into his hands a ring 
 for a token to the priest he was to go to from her ; caused 
 him to swaddle the young creature in her neck-handker- 
 chief, and sent him away in haste, notwithstanding his un- 
 willingness to leave her in the condition she was in. I am 
 inclined to believe she had much ado to get home again ; 
 as for my father, he returned to his village, gave the child 
 to his wife, and did not fail two days after to go to the 
 old priest and show him the ring. He learned from him 
 that the child's mother was a young lady of a very good 
 family, and very rich ; that she had had this child by a 
 Scotch lord, who was gone into Ireland to raise soldiers 
 for the king's service ; and that this foreign nobleman had 
 promised her marriage. Moreover the priest told him that 
 by reason of her precipitate delivery she was fallen des- 
 perately sick, and being in that extremity had confessed 
 all to her father and mother, who instead of chiding her 
 endeavored to comfort her, by reason she was an only 
 child ; that the thing was yet a secret in the house, and 
 therefore assured my father that if he would but take care 
 of the child and keep counsel, his fortune should be made. 
 Thereupon he gave him fifty crowns and a bundle of all 
 sorts of things necessary for a child. My father returned 
 home after he had well dined with the priest. I was put 
 out to nurse, and the stranger kept at home in my stead. 
 A month after the Scotch lord came back, and having 
 found his mistress so very ill that she could not live much 
 longer, he married her one day before she died, and so was 
 no sooner a husband than a widower. He came two or 
 three days after to our town with the parents of his wife. 
 There they began to weep afresh, and were like to stifle 
 the child with kisses. My father had reason to be thankful 
 to the Scotch lord for his generosity, and the relations of 
 the child did not forget him besides. They returned to 
 Paris very much satisfied with the care my father and 
 mother took of the boy, whom they would not yet take 
 home with them because the marriage was still kept secret, 
 for some reasons which never came to my knowledge. As 
 soon as I was able to walk, my father took me home to 
 4 
 
so SCARRON 
 
 keep the young Earl of Glaris company (for so he was 
 called by his father's name). The natural antipathy said 
 to have been between Jacob and Esau in the very womb 
 of their mother was never greater than that which was 
 between the young earl and me. My father and mother 
 loved him tenderly, and had an aversion for me, though I 
 was the more hopeful boy of the two. There appeared 
 nothing but what was mean in him. As for me, I seemed 
 to be what I was not, and rather an earl's son than 
 Gariquet's ; and if I am at last no more than a wretched 
 player, it is undoubtedly because fortune had a mind to be 
 revenged upon nature for designing to make me something 
 without her help ; or, if you please, because nature is some- 
 times willing to favor those whom fortune is unkind to. 
 I shall pass over in silence the infancy of two young 
 clowns (for Glaris was such by education as well as myself) , 
 since our most memorable adventures were nothing but 
 abundance of fisticuffs. In all the quarrels we had I 
 always got the better of him, except when my father and 
 mother sided with him, which they did so often and with 
 so much heat that my godfather. Monsieur Saint Sauveur 
 by name, was highly offended at it, and demanded me of 
 my father. He made him a present of me with great joy, 
 and my mother had yet less regret than he to part with 
 me. Thus I was at my godfather's well clad, well fed, 
 much caressed, and never beaten. He spared no costs to 
 make me read and write; and as soon as I was fit to 
 learn I^atin, he obtained of the lord of our village, who 
 was a very civil gentleman and very rich, that I should 
 study with two of his sons under a learned man he had 
 from Paris, and to whom he gave a very good salary. 
 This gentleman, the Baron d'Arques by name, took great 
 care to have his sons well educated. The eldest, called 
 Saint Far, was a handsome gentleman, but as untractably 
 rough and brutish in his nature as ever man was ; to make 
 amends, the younger brother was both handsomer than 
 Saint Far, and had a vivacity of mind and greatness of 
 soul equal to the beauty of his body. In short, I do not 
 think there ever was a more hopeful young gentleman than 
 Vervelle, for this was the younger brother's name. He 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 51 
 
 honored me with his friendship, and as for me, I loved 
 him like a brother and ever respected him as a master. 
 As for Saint Far, he had none but ill-inclinations, and I 
 cannot better express the sentiments he had both for his 
 brother and me, than by telling you that he loved not his 
 brother more than me, for whom he had a great indif- 
 ference ; and that he hated me no more than he did his 
 brother, whom he loved but little. His diversions were 
 difierent from ours, for he loved nothing but hunting, and 
 hated books of morality ; whereas Vervelle seldom went 
 out a hunting, and took great delight in reading ; wherein 
 I agreed wonderfully with him, as I did in everything else, 
 without being put to the trouble of doing anything out of 
 complaisance, as in duty I ought. The Baron d'Arques 
 had a large library of romances. Our tutor who had never 
 read any in his college, and who at first forbade us the 
 reading of them, having condemned them a hundred times 
 before the Baron d'Arques to render them as odious to 
 him as he found them delightful, grew at last so much in 
 love with them himself, that having devoured both the old 
 and the new ones, he confessed that the reading of good 
 romances was as instructive as pleasant, and no less proper 
 to inspire young people with noble sentiments than the 
 reading of Plutarch. He therefore encouraged us to read 
 them as earnestly as he had discouraged us before, and 
 first of all advised us to peruse the modern ; but these 
 were not yet suitable to our palates ; and till we were 
 fifteen we were much more delighted with reading Amadis 
 de Gaul than Astrea, and other fine romances that have 
 been made since, by which the French have shown to the 
 world, as they have by a thousand things besides, that if 
 they do not invent so much as other nations, yet do they 
 nevertheless bring the inventions of others to a far greater 
 perfection. We therefore bestowed upon the reading of 
 romances the greatest part of the time we had allowed us 
 for diversion. As for Saint Far, he called us the Ruyters, 
 and went abroad every day either to hunt or to beat the 
 poor country fellows, which he did with wonderful success. 
 The inclination I had to do well gained me the favor of 
 the Baron d'Arques, who loved me no less than if I had 
 
52 SCARRON 
 
 been his near relation. He would not suffer me to leave 
 his sons when he sent them to the academy, but sent me 
 thither along with them, and that rather as a companion 
 than a servant. There we stayed about two years to learn 
 our exercises, at the end of which a man of quality, related 
 to the Baron d'Arques, raising soldiers for the Venetians, 
 Saint Far and Vervelle persuaded their father to let them 
 go to Venice with their kinsman. The good old gentleman 
 desired I would still accompany them, and Monsieur de 
 Saint Sauveur, my godfather, who loved me extremely, gave 
 me very generously bills of exchange for a considerable 
 sum, to make use of in case those I had the honor to 
 accompany should be unwilling to bear my charges. We 
 went the longest way about on purpose to see Rome and 
 the other fine cities of Italy, in each of which we stayed 
 a considerable time, excepting those which are in the 
 Spaniards' hands. I fell sick at Rome, and the two 
 brothers went on their journey ; the gentleman under 
 whose conduct they were being willing to lay hold of the 
 opportunity of the pope's galleys, which were putting out 
 to sea to join the Venetian army near the Straits of the 
 Dardanelles, where they waited for the Turks. Vervelle 
 was extraordinarily sorry to leave me, and I almost mad to 
 part from him, at a time when by my services I might in 
 some measure have deserved the love he had for me. As 
 for Saint Far, I believe he left me with as much indif- 
 ference as if he had never seen me ; and I never thought 
 of him, but only because he was brother to Vervelle, who 
 left me as much money as he could spare ; but whether 
 Saint Far was consenting I cannot tell. Thus I was left 
 sick at Rome, having no other acquaintance besides my 
 landlord, a Fleming apothecary, who took extraordinary 
 care of me during my illness, and who, as far as I can 
 judge, had more skill in physic than the Italian doctor 
 who looked after me. At last I recovered, and gathered 
 strength enough to go and view the most remarkable 
 places in Rome, where strangers find abundantly where- 
 withal to entertain their curiosity. I took a singular 
 delight in viewing the vines (thus are called several 
 gardens, finer than the Tuileries in Paris, which cardinals 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 53 
 
 and other persons of quality keep with much cost in Rotae, 
 rather out of vanity than for their own entertainment, 
 since they never, or at least very seldom, go there them- 
 selves). One day, as I was walking in one of the finest, I 
 saw at the turning of the wall two women very genteelly 
 dressed, whom two young Frenchmen stopped and would 
 not let go, unless the youngest of them unveiled her face. 
 One of those two Frenchmen, who looked like the master 
 of the other, had even the insolence to offer to unveil her 
 by force, while his man held the other, who was bare-faced. 
 I was not long debating what I should do on this occasion, 
 but presently told those rude men that I was resolved not 
 to suffer them to offer violence to those ladies. They were 
 both very much surprised, for I spoke with such a resolu- 
 tion as would have daunted them had they had their 
 swords as well as myself. The two ladies came over to me, 
 and the young Frenchman choosing rather to be baulked 
 than beaten, told me as he went off : " Sir, for all your 
 hectoring we shall meet you in some other place, where our 
 swords shall not hang all one side." I answered I would 
 not hide myself. His man followed him, and so I stayed 
 with the two women. She that had no veil on looked to 
 be about five and thirty : she returned me thanks in good 
 French, without any mixture of Italian, and told me 
 among other things, that if all Frenchmen were like me 
 the Italian women would not scruple to live after the 
 French fashion. After that, to reward the service I had 
 done them, she added, that since I hindered that rude 
 Frenchman from seeing her daughter against her will, it 
 was reasonable I should see her of her own accord. " There- 
 fore, " said she, " l/conora, lift up your veil, and let the gentle- 
 man see that we are not altogether unworthy of the honor 
 of being under his protection." She had scarce done speak- 
 ing but her daughter put aside her veil, or rather discovered 
 a sun which dazzled my eyes. I never beheld so beautiful 
 an object in my whole life. She cast three or four times her 
 eyes on me, as it were by stealth, and as they still met with 
 mine, the innocent blushes which overspread her face made 
 her to look as handsome as an angel. I perceived the mother 
 was very fond of her, for she seemed to share the pleasure 
 
54 SCARRON 
 
 I had in gazing upon her. Now by reason I was little used 
 to these adventures, and that young people are easily 
 dashed out of countenance in strange company, I made 
 them but indifferent compliments when they went away, 
 and gave them perhaps but an indifferent opinion of my 
 wit. I was angry with myself for not asking their habi- 
 tation, and that I did not offer to wait upon them thither; 
 but it was preposterous to run after them. I went to the 
 doorkeeper to inquire whether he knew them ; but we were 
 a long while before we could understand one another, 
 because he spoke no better French than I did Italian. At 
 last, rather by signs than otherwise, he gave me to under- 
 stand that they were unknown to him, at least he would 
 not own he knew them. I returned to my Fleming apothe- 
 cary in a very different disposition of mind from what I 
 was in when I came out ; that is to say, very amorous, and 
 very much in pain to know whether that beautiful I^eonora 
 was a courtesan or an honest woman, and if she had as 
 much wit as her mother, who seemed to have a great deal. 
 I abandoned myself to thought, and flattered myself with a 
 thousand fair hopes which entertained me awhile, but dis- 
 quieted me much more when I considered the impossibility 
 of my wishes. Having framed a thousand frivolous designs, 
 I resolved at last to seek them out, not thinking it possible 
 for them to remain long invisible in Rome (which is not a 
 populous city), especially to a man so much in love as I 
 was. That very day I looked for them wherever I thought 
 it most likely to find them, and returned home at night 
 more tired and uneasy than I was when I went out. 
 The next day I sought them still with more diligence, yet 
 did nothing but tire and disquiet myself. By my peeping 
 through the lattice-windows, and my hasty running after all 
 the women that bore the least resemblance of my I^eonora, 
 I was taken a hundred times, both in the streets and in 
 the churches, for the greatest fool among those Frenchmen 
 who have contributed most to their disparaging their nation 
 at Rome. It is a matter of wonder how I could gather 
 .■strength at a time when I suffered like one in hell. How- 
 ever my body recovered, while my sick mind remained so 
 divided betwixt honor and love, which kept me at Rome, 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS S5 
 
 that I often doubted whether I should obey the frequent 
 letters I received from Vervelle, who conjured me by the 
 ties of friendship to come to him, without using the right 
 he had to command me. At last all my endeavors to find 
 out my unknown lady proving ineffectual, I paid my landlord, 
 and got my little equipage ready in order to depart. The 
 day before I was set out, Signior Stephano Vanberge (for 
 so was my landlord called) told me he designed to give me 
 a dinner at a mistress's house of his, and at the same time 
 make me confess that he had not made an ill-choice for a 
 Fleming ; adding, withal, that he would not carry me to 
 her before I was to go away, because he was a little jealous. 
 I promised to wait on him rather out of complaisance than 
 inclination ; and accordingly we went about dinner-time. 
 The house we went into had neither the appearance nor 
 furniture of an apothecary's mistress. Having traversed a 
 very fine parlor, we entered a magnificent room, where 
 we were received by Leonora and her mother. You may 
 imagine how much I was agreeably surprised. The mother 
 of that beautiful daughter came toward me to be saluted 
 after the French way ; and I must needs own that she 
 kissed me rather than I her. I was so amazed that I 
 scarce could see anything, neither did I hear one word of 
 the compliment she made me. At last I recovered both my 
 senses and sight, and saw Leonora more beautiful and 
 charming than before, but had not the assurance to salute 
 her. I was sensible of my fault as soon as I had commit- 
 ted it ; but instead of repairing it, blushed as much out of 
 shame as she did out of modesty. Her mother told me she 
 designed to return me thanks before I went away for the 
 pains I had taken to find out their habitation ; and this 
 still increased my confusion. She pulled me into an alcove 
 adorned after the French fashion, where her daughter did 
 not follow us, because, I suppose, she did not think it worth 
 her while to join conversation with so dull a fellow as I 
 seemed to be. She stayed with Signior Stephano, while 
 with her mother I acted the part of a clown to the life. 
 She was so civil to find matter to keep up the conversation 
 herself, which she did very ingeniously, though nothing 
 can be more difficult than to show one's wit with those that 
 
S6 SCARRON 
 
 have none. For my part I never was such a blockhead in 
 my life ; and if she was not tired with me then, she never 
 could be with anybody. Among other things, to which I 
 scarce answered yes or no, she told me she was a French- 
 woman born, and that Signior Stephano would inform me 
 of the reasons which kept her in Rome. By this time, 
 dinner being ready, she was fain to pull me along to the 
 table as she had pulled me before to the alcove ; for I was 
 so disordered that I did not know how to set one foot be- 
 fore the other. I was the same dull loggerhead both before 
 and after dinner, during which the only thing I did with 
 assurance was to stare upon Ivconora. I fancy she was 
 uneasy at it, and therefore to punish me for it never lifted 
 up her eyes all the while. Had the mother been silent 
 the dinner had been like a Carthusian meal ; but she 
 discoursed with Signior Stephano about the affairs of 
 Rome, at least I fancy so, for I am not very sure of it. 
 At last we rose from table, to the great comfort of every- 
 body, except myself, whose distemper grew worse and 
 worse every moment. When we went to take our leave 
 they said a thousand obliging things to me, which I only 
 answered with the ordinary compliments used at the 
 bottom of a letter. However I did something more at 
 parting than I did when I came in ; for I saluted I^onora, 
 and by that means completed my ruin. Stephano was not 
 able to get one single word from me all the way home. I 
 locked myself up in my room without pulling off either 
 my cloak or sword. There I revolved in my mind what- 
 ever had happened to me. Leonora presented herself to 
 my fancy more beautiful than ever she had appeared to 
 my sight. I remembered how dull and silly I was before 
 the mother and the daughter ; and as often as I thought 
 of it was so ashamed, that I could not forbear blushing. 
 I wished to be rich, cursed my mean extraction, and then 
 fancied to myself a thousand lucky adventures, advan- 
 tageous both to my fortune and love. At last, having 
 nothing in my thoughts but how to frame a plausible pre- 
 tense to stay, and not finding any to my liking, I grew so 
 desperate as to wish to fall sick again, to which I had 
 already no small disposition. I designed to write to 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 57 
 
 I^onora; but all my pen could produce did not please 
 me, and so I put into my pocket the beginning of a letter, 
 which perhaps I had not dared to send had it been 
 finished. Thus having disquieted myself to little purpose, 
 and not being able to banish Leonora from my thoughts, 
 I resolved to go by the vine where she appeared to me 
 first, to abandon myself entirely to my passion, and pass 
 by her door once for all. This vine was well situated in 
 one of the remotest parts of the city, and in the midst of 
 several old uninhabited buildings. As I passed along, 
 pensive and melancholy, under the ruins of a portico, I 
 heard somebody stalk behind me, and at the same time 
 felt myself run through under the reins. I presently faced 
 about, and instantly drew my sword ; and finding I had to 
 do with the servant of the young Frenchman I mentioned 
 before, I was like to return him at least as good a pass as 
 he had made at me by treachery : but as I pushed at him 
 without being able to close with him, because he main- 
 tained a running fight, and endeavored to parry, his mas- 
 ter came out from among the ruins of the portico, and 
 attacking me behind, dealt me such a stunning blow on 
 the head, and a great thrust in the thigh, as made me to 
 fall down. There was no likelihood of my escaping at so 
 cheap a rate ; but because in an ill action people seldom 
 preserve a presence of mind, the servant wounded his mas- 
 ter in the right hand ; and at the same time two Minime 
 friars of the Trinity of the Mount passing by, and seeing 
 me treacherously assaulted, ran to my assistance ; where- 
 upon my assassins made their escape, and left me wounded 
 in three several places. Those good friars happened to 
 be Frenchmen, to my great comfort ; for in so remote a 
 place, had an Italian seen me in the condition I was in, 
 he would rather have avoided than succored me, lest 
 being found doing me a good office he were suspected 
 of being himself my murderer. While one of these 
 charitable friars received my confession, the other ran to 
 my lodging to acquaint my landlord with my disaster. 
 He came instantly to me, and caused me to be carried, 
 half-dead, to my bed. "With so many wounds, and so 
 much love, it was no wonder if I soon fell into a most 
 
S8 SCARRON 
 
 violent fever. My life was despaired of by all, and I had 
 no reason to hope better than the rest. In the meantime 
 my passion for I^eonora was so far from abating that it 
 was rather increased, though my strength grew still 
 weaker and weaker. Wherefore, not being able to support 
 so heavy a burden, without easing myself of it, nor re- 
 solved to die without letting Leonora know that it was 
 for her sake only that I wished to live, I called for a pen 
 and ink. They thought I was light-headed ; but I was so 
 earnest in protesting that they would drive me into despair 
 in case they .should deny me what I requested, that Signior 
 Stephano, who had taken notice of my passion, and was so 
 clear-sighted as to guess at my design, gave orders that I 
 should have all things necessary to write ; and as he knew 
 my intention, he sta5'^ed all alone in the room. I perused 
 what I had scribbled a little before, with design to make 
 use of some thoughts which came then into my head upon 
 the same subject, and then wrote thus to I,eonora : 
 
 " I no sooner saw you, but it was out of my power to 
 forbear loving you ; my reason did not oppose my passion, 
 but told me, as well as my eyes, that you were the most 
 lovely person in the world ; whereas it should have repre- 
 sented to me how unworthy I was of your heart. How- 
 ever, that would have served only to exasperate my disease 
 with unprofitable remedies, and after having struggled a 
 while, I must at last have yielded to the irresistible 
 necessity of loving you, which you impose on all that see 
 you. Well, I love you, my charming Leonora, but with so 
 much respect, that you ought not to hate me for it, 
 although I have the boldness to discover it to you. But 
 how is it possible to die for you without boasting of it? 
 And how can you refuse to pardon a crime with which 
 you can not reproach me long? I own your being the 
 cause of a man's death is recompense not to be merited but 
 by a great number of services, and you will perhaps envy 
 me a happiness which you procure me without design. 
 But do not grudge it me, lovely Leonora, since it is 
 no more in your power to make me lose it, and that it 
 is the only favor I ever received from fortune, who will 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 59 
 
 never sufficiently reward your merit, but by procuring you 
 adorers as much above me as all other beauties in the 
 world are below yours. Therefore I am not so vain as to 
 think that you will bestow the least sentiment of pity 
 on » 
 
 I was not able to make an end of my letter ; my strength 
 failed me on the sudden ; the pen fell from my band, for 
 my mind went so fast, that my body could not keep pace 
 with it ; else that long beginning you have heard had been 
 but a small part of my letter ; so much was my imagination 
 warmed by my fever and my love. I was a long time in a 
 fainting fit without giving the least sign of life, which 
 Signior Stephano perceiving, he opened the chamber-door 
 to send for a priest. At that very moment Iveonora and 
 her mother came to visit me, having, it seems, been 
 informed of my being wounded. Now as they thought 
 this accident befell me upon their account, and for 
 that reason that they were the innocent cause of my death, 
 they did not scruple to come to see me in the condition 
 I was in. My trance lasted so long that they went away 
 before I was come to myself, very much afflicted, as 
 one may imagine, and fully persuaded that I would never 
 recover. They read what I had been writing ; and 
 the mother being more curious than the daughter, 
 perused also the papers I had left on the bed ; among 
 which there was a letter from my father. I was a 
 long time struggling betwixt life and death ; but at length 
 youth getting the upper hand, in a fortnight's time I was 
 out of danger : and in five weeks' time began to walk about 
 the room. My landlord entertained me often about 
 Leonora. He acquainted me with the charitable visit she 
 and her mother had made me, at which I was overjoyed : 
 and if I was a little troubled at their reading my father's 
 letter, I was highly pleased that my own had been read 
 also. As often as I happened to be alone with Stephano 
 I could talk of nothing but I,eonora. One day calling to 
 mind what her mother told me, that he could inform me 
 who she was, and what reasons obliged her to stay in Rome, 
 I desired him to acquaint me with what he knew of the 
 
6o SCARRON 
 
 matter. He acquainted me that she came to Rome with 
 the French ambassador's lady ; that a man of quality, a near 
 relation of the ambassador's, had fallen in love with her; 
 that in time she loved him too, and that, being married 
 clandestinely, she had the beautiful Leonora by him. He 
 informed me likewise that that nobleman had fallen out with 
 all his relations upon this account, which obliged him to 
 leave Rome and go to Venice with Madame la Boissifere (for 
 this was her name) till the time of the embassy should be 
 expired ; that having brought her back to Rome, he fur- 
 nished her a house, and gave her all necessaries to live like 
 a person of quality while he stayed in France, whither his 
 father had called him back, and whither he durst not carry 
 his mistress, or, if you please, his wife, well knowing that 
 none of his relations would approve his match. I must 
 confess I could not sometimes forbear wishing that Leonora 
 were not the legitimate daughter of a person of quality, that 
 the blemish of her birth might excuse the meanness of mine ; 
 but however I soon repented so criminal a thought, and 
 wished her fortune answerable to her merit. This last 
 thought cast me into despair ; for as I loved her more than 
 my life, I plainly foresaw that I could never be happy 
 without enjoying her, nor enjoy her without making her 
 unhappy. When I began to recover, and that there was no 
 other remains of my distemper than a great paleness in my 
 cheeks, occasioned by the vast quantity of blood I had lost, 
 my young masters returned from the Venetian army, the 
 plague which infected all the Levant not suffering them to 
 signalize their courage there any longer. Vervelle had still 
 the same affection he ever had for me, and Saint Far did not 
 yet show he hated me, as he has done since. I recounted 
 to them all my adventures except my falling in love with 
 Leonora ; both expressed a great desire of being acquainted 
 with her, which my exaggerating the merit both of the 
 mother and the daughter increased. A man ought never 
 to commend the person he loves before those who may love 
 her also, since love enters at the ears as well as the eyes. 
 This folly has often been pernicious to those who have been 
 guilty of it, which my own experience will justify, as you 
 shall see anon. Saint Far asked me every day when I 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 6i 
 
 designed to carry him to Madame la Boissiere. One day, when 
 he was more pressing than ordinary, I answered I could not 
 tell whether she would admit of his visit or not, because 
 she lived very retired. "Nay," replied he, "I now plainly 
 see you are in love with her daughter ; " and adding he 
 knew how to go see her without me, after a very blunt man- 
 ner. I was so daunted, that he then firmly believed what 
 he barely suspected before. Afterward he passed a hun- 
 dred silly jests upon me, and dashed me so out of coun- 
 tenance, that Vervelle pitied me. He took me away from 
 his unmannerly brother, and carried me to the boulevard, 
 where I was extremely melancholy, though Vervelle, out 
 of a kindness extraordinary in a person of his age, and so 
 much above me by his quality, used all possible means to 
 divert me. In the meantime, the ill-natured Saint Far en- 
 deavored to satisfy himself, or rather to ruin me. He went 
 straight to Madame la Boissiere, where they took him at 
 first for me, because he had my landlord's servant with him, 
 who had often accompanied me thither ; but had it not been 
 for that, I believe he never had been admitted. Madame 
 la Bossi^re was very much surprised to see a man she did 
 not know. She told Saint Far she could not imagine upon 
 what score a stranger did her the honor of a visit. Saint 
 Far replied very humbly that he was the master of a young 
 fellow who was so happy as to be wounded in her service. 
 Having begun his compliment with an account, which, 
 as I was informed since, pleased neither the mother nor the 
 daughter, and these two ingenuous persons being unwilling 
 to hazard the reputation of their wit with a person who at 
 first dash discovered he had little, the rude impertinent was 
 meanly diverted by them, and they very much tired with 
 him. But what made him almost mad was his being de- 
 nied the satisfaction of seeing I^eonora's face, though he 
 had begged her a thousand times to lift up the veil she 
 commonly wore, as all unmarried ladies do at Rome. At 
 last this accomplished courtier, being tired with tiring of 
 them, rid them of his troublesome visit, and returned to 
 Signior Stephano's with little advantage from the ill office 
 he had done me. Ever since that time, as it is ordinary 
 with ill-natured people to hate those whom they have 
 
62 SCARRON 
 
 injured, he despised me to that degree, and disobliged me so 
 often, that I had a hundred times forgot the respect I owed 
 to his quality if Vervelle, by his constant friendship and 
 repeated kindnesses, had not made me amends for his 
 brother's brutality. I was not yet acquainted with the ill 
 ofl&ce he had done me, though I often felt the effects of it. 
 I found indeed, Madame la Boissiere more reserved to me 
 than when we were first acquainted ; but being still as civil 
 as before, I did not take notice of my being troublesome. 
 As for I^eonora, she appeared very thoughtful before her 
 mother ; but when not observed by her, methought she was 
 not so melancholy, and cast on me more favorable looks 
 than I could have expected. 
 
 Destiny was thus relating his story, and the actresses 
 listening very attentively, without showing the least incli- 
 nation to sleep, when they heard the clock strike two (in 
 the morning). Mrs. Cave put Destiny in mind that the 
 iiext day he was to accompany Monsieur la Rappiniere to 
 a house about two or three leagues out of town, where 
 he promised to give them the diversion of hunting. This 
 made Destiny take his leave of the players and retire to his 
 own chamber, where in all probability he went to bed. 
 The other players did the same, and the remaining part of 
 the night was spent in quiet : the poet, as luck would have 
 it, having made no new stanzas to disturb the general 
 repose. 
 
 SOME REFI^ECTIONS WHICH ARE NOT AMISS. 
 
 RAGOTIN'S NEW DISGRACE, AND 
 
 OTHER THINGS 
 
 LovB, which makes the young to undertake anything and 
 the old to forget everything ; love, which occasioned the 
 wars of Troy, and many others besides, which I do not 
 think worth while to mention here, would needs make it 
 known in the city of Mans that he is as much to be 
 dreaded in a pitiful inn as in the brightest palace whatso- 
 ever. He was not therefore contented with depriving the 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 63 
 
 amorous Ragotin of his appetite, but likewise inspired La 
 RappiniSre with a thousand irregular desires, a man very 
 susceptible of them, and made Roquebrune likewise to 
 languish for the operator's wife, adding a fourth folly to his 
 vanity, bravery, and poetry ; or rather obliging him to 
 commit a double infidelity ; for he had made his amorous 
 addresses a long while before, both to Star and Angelica, 
 who often advised him to desist, and not throw away his 
 courtship. But all this is nothing to what I shall now 
 relate ; love triumphed likewise over the insensibility and 
 misanthropy of Rancour, who became enamored of the 
 operator's wife too, and by consequence a rival to the poet 
 Roquebrune, a punishment for his sins, and an atonement 
 for the cursed writings he had published. This woman's 
 name was Donna Inezilla del Prado, a native of Malaga, 
 and her husband, or he that was reputed such, Signior 
 Ferdinando Ferdinandi, a gentleman of Venice, born at 
 Caen in Normandy. There were several others in the inn 
 besides the above named, who were infected with the same 
 disease, as dangerously, if not more than those whose 
 secrets I have revealed ; but they shall be discovered too in 
 due time and place. La Rappiniere fell in love with 
 Madam Star when she acted Climene, and intended then to 
 have declared his distemper to Rancour, whom he thought 
 capable of doing anything for money. The heavenly bard 
 Roquebrune designed the conquest of a Spanish lady 
 worthy his courage. But as for Rancour, I cannot im- 
 agine by what potent charms this foreign lady could in- 
 flame the heart of one with love, who hated all the world. 
 This worn-out stroller, being in hell before his time, I 
 mean in love before his death, was still in bed when Rago- 
 tin, troubled with his passion, as it were the bellyache, 
 came to desire him to mind his business and take pity on 
 him. Rancour assured him, that ere that day were over, 
 he would do him a notable piece of service with his 
 mistress. La Rappiniere entered Rancour's chamber at the 
 same time, who was still dressing himself. Having taken 
 him aside, he confessed his infirmity to him, and vowed, 
 that if he could bring him into favor with Madam Star, 
 there was nothing in his power, but he would do for him, 
 
64 SCARRON 
 
 even to the making him one of his assistants, and bestow- 
 ing his niece in marriage on him, whom he designed to 
 make sole heiress after his death, because he had no chil- 
 dren of his own. 
 
 The cheating rogue promised him yet more than he had 
 done Ragotin, which put this hangman's purveyor in good 
 hopes. Roquebrune came likewise to consult the same 
 oracle. He was the most incorrigible, presumptuous cox- 
 comb that ever came from the banks of Garonne, and one 
 who thought everybody believed what he romanced about 
 his good family, riches, poetry, and valor, insomuch that 
 he slighted all the dry jests and bobs that Rancour per- 
 petually cast at him, presuming that what he did was only 
 for conversation's sake ; and besides, he understood raillery 
 as well as any man alive, and bore it like a Christian 
 philosopher, even when it touched to the very quick. He 
 therefore imagined he was admired by all the players, nay, 
 even by Rancour himself, who had experience enough to 
 admire but few things, and was so far from having a good 
 opinion of this poor brother of the quill that he made a 
 full inquiry into his extraction, thereby to discover whether 
 those bishops and great lords, his countrymen, whom he 
 quoted ever and anon for his relations, were the true 
 branches of that genealogic tree, this fool of noble alliances 
 and coats of arms, together with many other things, had 
 caused to be drawn in an old roll of parchment. He was 
 very sorry to find Rancour in company, though he had less 
 need to be troubled at that time than any one besides, it 
 being his ill custom to be ever whispering in people's ears, 
 and to make a secret of everything, sometimes of nothing. 
 However, he took Rancour in a corner, and at first very 
 gravely desired to know whether the operator's wife was a 
 person of a great deal of wit or not, because he had loved 
 women of all nations but Spaniards, and if she were worth 
 his labor he should not be much the poorer if he presented 
 her with a hundred pistoles, which he as often mentioned 
 upon every trifling occasion as the great family from 
 whence he was descended. Rancour told him he was not 
 so well acquainted with Donna Inezilla, as to answer for 
 her wit, though he had often met her husband in the 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 65 
 
 chief est cities of the kingdom, where he sold his antidotes ; 
 but if he desired so much to be informed about it, it was 
 but joining conversation with her, since she began to speak 
 French tolerably well, and he might soon be satisfied. 
 Roquebrune would needs entrust him with his pedigree in 
 parchment, that he might dazzle the Spanish Donna with 
 the splendor of his race ; but Rancour told him his pedi- 
 gree would sooner make him a Knight of Malta than a 
 happy lover. Whereupon Roquebrune with a smiling coun- 
 tenance added, "Well, Sir, you know what I am." 
 
 ** Yes, " replied Rancour, ** I know well enough what you 
 are now, and what you will ever be, to your dying da}'." 
 
 The poet went away as he came, and Rancour, his 
 rival and confidant at the same time, drew near to I<a 
 Rappiniere and Ragotin, who were rivals also, though 
 unknown to each other. As for old Rancour, besides that 
 we naturally hate any one that endeavors to rob us of 
 what we design for ourselves, and the general quarrel he 
 had against all mankind ; besides all this, I say, he ever 
 had a particular aversion to the poet, which this discovery 
 was not likely to abate. Rancour therefore absolutely 
 resolved, from that time forward, to do him all the 
 mischief he possibly could, to which moreover his apish 
 nature prompted him, and fitted him for it. And not to 
 lose time, he began that very day, by basely borrowing 
 money of him, wherewith he new clothed himself from top 
 to toe, and besides stocked himself well with linen. He 
 had before been a sloven all his lifetime ; but love, which 
 works far greater miracles than anything else, now made 
 him more curious of his dress in his declining days. In 
 a word he changed his linen oftener than became a 
 stroller, and began to wash, powder, and color his gray 
 hair, and likewise to trim himself so carefully, that his 
 comrades took notice of it. The players had that day a 
 play bespoke, as one of the chiefest citizens of Mans, who 
 made a great treat, and gave a ball at his niece's wedding, 
 whose guardian he had been. The nuptials were kept at 
 a very fair country-house of his, about a league from the 
 city ; but whether eastward, westward, northward or 
 southward, I cannot tell. The decorator belonging to 
 5 
 
66 SCARRON 
 
 the strollers, and a carpenter were sent in the morning- 
 early to erect a stage. The whole company of players 
 followed in two coaches, about eleven o'clock, that they 
 might get thither by dinner-time. Donna Inezilla, the 
 Spanish lady, made one, at the earnest entreaty of the 
 actresses and Rancour. Ragotin being informed of the 
 business, went to an inn at the end of the suburb, where 
 he waited the coming of the coaches, and tied a very fine 
 steed which he had borrowed, to the grate of the parlor 
 that looked into the street. He was scarce sat down to 
 dinner, when word was brought him, that the coach was 
 in sight. He flew to his horse on the wings of love, with 
 a great sword by his side, and a carabine dangling at his 
 breech like a bandoleer. He would never confess what 
 his fancy was, to go to a wedding with such store of 
 offensive and defensive weapons ; neither could Rancour 
 his confidant ever persuade him to discover it. By that 
 time he had untied his horse's bridle, the coaches were so 
 near, that he had not time to look for a jossing-block, 
 that he might appear in state on his steed like pretty 
 Saint George. And being none of the best horsemen, and 
 unprepared to show his nimble disposition, he did it but 
 very awkwardly ; for his horse's legs were as much too long, 
 as his were too short. However, he stoutly reared himself 
 in the stirrup, and threw his right leg over the saddle ; but 
 the girths being loose, it occasioned a strange disaster ; for 
 this made the saddle to turn round, while he was bestriding 
 the steed. Yet all things went hitherto well enough, but 
 the cursed carabine which hung on a belt about his neck 
 like a collar, got so unfortunately betwixt his legs before 
 he was aware, that his breech could not reach his saddle, 
 which was an old-fashioned one, the carabine lying across 
 from the pummel to the crupper. Thus he sat in a very 
 uneasy posture, as not being able with the tip of his toe so 
 much as to touch the stirrups. Therefore his heels being 
 armed with spurs, he kicked the horse's side in a place he 
 was never used to be pricked in, which made him to start 
 more briskly than was necessary for a little rider in that 
 posture, having nothing but the carabine to rest upon. 
 This made him to cling his legs close to the horse's sides, 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 67 
 
 which made the horse to fling up his hinder legs ; when 
 Ragotin following the nature of all heavy bodies, fell into 
 the horse's neck, whereby he got a bruised nose, the 
 steed lifting up his head suddenly at a jerk he gave him 
 with the bridle very preposterously. Now thinking to re- 
 pair his oversight, he let go the reins ; but giving the 
 horse his head, he at that very instant gave such a great 
 leap, and cast his rider quite over the saddle upon the 
 crupper, with the carabine still between his legs. The 
 horse not being used to carry anything behind makes a 
 croupade, which places Ragotin in the saddle again. The 
 unskilled horseman clapped his heels close to his sides 
 afresh, and then the horse flung up his hinder legs more 
 than at first, which pitched the unfortunate Ragotin just 
 upon the pummel, where we must leave him as on a pin- 
 nacle to rest ourselves a while ; for upon the honor of a 
 gentleman this description has cost me more pains, than all 
 the book besides, and yet I am not well satisfied with it 
 neither. 
 
 RAGOTIN' S FAIyl, OFF HIS HORSE, AND SOME- 
 THING OF THE IvIKE NATURE WHICH 
 HAPPENED TO ROQUEBRUNE 
 
 W^ LEFT Ragotin planted on the pummel of a saddle, 
 not knowing how to behave himself, and much per- 
 plexed how he should get off. I scarce believe the 
 defunct Phaeton, of unhappy memory, was ever more 
 troubled with his father's four fiery steeds, than was at this 
 time our little lawyer, with this one tit, on which he never- 
 theless sat as quiet as a lamb. That it did not cost him his 
 life, as it did Phaeton, he was beholden to Fortune, whose 
 caprices would be a fit subject for me to expatiate on, were 
 I not in conscience obliged to release Ragotin from the im- 
 minent danger he is in, having besides many more things to 
 treat of concerning our strollers, during their residence at 
 Mans. As soon as the disastrous Ragotin felt what an uneasy 
 cushion he had under the two most fleshy parts of his body, 
 
68 SCARRON 
 
 on which he used to sit, as all other rational creatures are 
 won't ; I mean, as soon as he found how narrow his seat was, 
 he quitted the briddle like a man of discretion, and laid hold 
 of the horse's mane, who at the same time ran away full speed. 
 Thereupon the carabine went off. Ragotin thought he had 
 been shot, his horse undoubtedly believed the same, and 
 therefore made such a foul stumble, that the little man lost 
 his seat ; insomuch, that for a time, he hung by the horse's 
 mane, with one foot entangled by his spur in the saddle- 
 cloth, and the other, with the rest of his body, hanging 
 dangling toward the earth in expectation of a fall, as soon 
 as his spur should break loose ; together with his sword, 
 carabine, and bandoleer. At length his foot being disen- 
 gaged, his hands let go the mane, and down he tumbled, 
 though with more grace and skill than he had got up. All 
 this happened in sight of the coaches, that stopped on pur- 
 pose to see what would become of him ; or rather to have 
 the pleasure of laughing at him. He cursed the horse, who 
 stood still, as soon as he had laid down his load. But to 
 comfort him, they took him into one of the coaches in the 
 poet's room, who was willing to ride, that he might flutter 
 about the coach, and court Inezilla, who sat in the boot. 
 Ragotin resigned his sword and fire-arms to him, which he 
 put on as dexterously as any son of Mars could have done. 
 He lengthened his stirrups, fitted the bridle, and without 
 doubt went to get up more methodically than Ragotin had 
 done. But surely there had some spell been cast upon that 
 unlucky horse that day, for the saddle being too loosely 
 girted, as before, turned round with the poet, as it had done 
 with Ragotin ; and the string of his breeches breaking, the 
 horse ran a pretty way with him, while he had but one 
 foot in the stirrup, his other serving the beast as a fifth 
 leg whereby his back -parts became exposed to all the com- 
 pany, his breeches dangling all the way about his heels. 
 None of the spectators laughed much at Ragotin' s mishap, 
 because they were afraid he would hurt himself, but Roque- 
 brune's accident was attended with loud shouts and laughter 
 from the coaches. The coachmen stopped to laugh their 
 bellies full, and altogether halloaed at Roquebrune, which 
 drove him, having disengaged himself, into a house for 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 69 
 
 shelter, leaving the horse to his own discretion, who very 
 wisely trotted back again to town. Ragotin, knowing he 
 was responsible for the beast, alighted out of the coach and 
 went after him ; when the poet having cased up his pos- 
 teriors, returned to the coach much troubled, and no less 
 troublesome to the company by Ragotin' s martial equipage, 
 who had undergone this third disgrace in his mistress's 
 presence. 
 
 A CONTINUATION WHICH PERHAPS WII.L NOT 
 BE FOUND VERY ENTERTAINING 
 
 THE players were very well received by the master of 
 the house, who was a good, honest man, and one of 
 the most considerable in those parts. They had two 
 chambers allotted them to lay their clothes in and make 
 themselves ready for the play, which was put off till after 
 supper. They dined in private, and after dinner, those that 
 had a mind to walk, had the choice of a grove and a fine 
 garden to do it in. A young counselor of the Parliament 
 of Rennes, and near kinsman to the master of the house, 
 accosted our players, having discovered Destiny to be a 
 person of more than vulgar judgment, and the actresses, 
 besides their great beauty, to be such as could say more 
 than just the parts they had learned by heart. They dis- 
 coursed of matters relating to their profession, as plays, 
 dramatic writers, etc. This young counselor said among 
 other things, that there was scarce any remarkable subject 
 for the stage, that had not been blown upon ; that all his- 
 tory was almost exhausted, and that modern authors 
 would at last be constrained to waive those nice rules of 
 unity of time, and stretch it beyond four and twenty hours ; 
 that the generality of people did not apprehend what those 
 severe rules of the stage were good for, being rather pleased 
 with action and representation than recitals ; and therefore 
 such plots might be contrived as would meet with applause, 
 without either falling into the extravagances of the Span- 
 iards, or being tied up to the strict precepts of Aristotle. 
 
^o SCARRON 
 
 From plays, they proceeded to talk of romances. The 
 counselor said that nothing could be more diverting than 
 our modern romances; that the French alone knew how to 
 write good ones ; however, that the Spaniards had a pecul- 
 iar talent to compose little stories, which they called 
 Novelas, which are more useful, and more probable patterns 
 for us to follow, than those imaginary heroes of antiquity, 
 who grow oftentimes tedious and troublesome, by being 
 over-civil, and over- virtuous. In short, that those examples 
 which may be imitated, are at least as beneficial as those 
 that exceed all probability and belief ; from all which he 
 concluded, that, if a man could write as good novels in 
 French, as those of Miguel de Cervantes, they would soon 
 be as much in vogue as ever heroic romances have been. 
 Roquebrune was not of the same opinion. He affirmed 
 very positively that there could be no pleasure in reading 
 romances unless they contained the adventures of princes, 
 nay, and of great princes too, and that for that reason, 
 "Astrea" only pleased him here and there. 
 
 * In what histories can one find kings and emperors enough 
 to make new romances ? " said the counselor. 
 
 " We must feign them, " replied Roquebrune, ** as they 
 usually do in fabulous stories, which have no foundation in 
 history." 
 
 "I perceive, then," returned the counselor, "that 'Don 
 Quixote' is very little in your favor." 
 
 "• It is the silliest book that ever I read, " replied Roque- 
 brune, "though it be cried uo b}' a great many men of 
 wit." 
 
 "Have a care," said Destiny, «it be not rather for want 
 of wit in you, than any defect in the book, that you enter- 
 tain so indifferent an opinion of it." 
 
 Roquebrune would not have failed to answer Destiny, 
 had he but heard what he had spoken. But he was so 
 taken up with telling his fears to some ladies, who were 
 come near the players, that he minded him not, but prom- 
 ised that fair sex he would write a romance in five parts, 
 every part to contain five volumes, which should eclipse all 
 the Cassandras, Cleopatras, and Cyruses in the world, 
 though this last had the surname of Great, as well as the 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 71 
 
 son of Pepin. During this the counselor was telling Des- 
 tiny and the actresses that he had written some novels in 
 imitation of the Spaniards, and promised he would commu- 
 nicate them to them. Thereupon Inezilla told them, in a 
 sort of French that had more of the Gascon than the 
 Spanish in it, that her first husband had the character of 
 a tolerable writer in the court of Spain, having composed 
 several novels that were much esteemed ; some whereof she 
 had in manuscript, which, in her opinion, deserved to be 
 translated into French. The young counselor being ex- 
 tremely curious in such kind of compositions, told the 
 Spanish lady she would do him a great favor in letting 
 him have the perusal of them, which she very civilly 
 consented to do: adding withal, that nobody was better 
 stored with novels than herself ; for as some women in her 
 country would sometimes attempt to write both in verse 
 and prose, so she had made it her pastime, and could en- 
 tertain them with some novels of her own making. Ro- 
 quebrune confidently, according to custom, offered to turn 
 them into French. Inezilla, who was perhaps the sharpest 
 Spaniard that had ever come over the Pyrenees, replied, 
 that to do as he pretended, it was not only requisite he 
 should understand the French tongue well, but be equally 
 acquainted with the Spanish also ; and that therefore 
 she could not give him her novels to translate, till she was 
 so well acquainted with the French, as to be able to judge 
 whether he was qualified for the undertaking. Rancour, 
 who had been silent all the while, said, there was no doubt 
 to be made of his ability, since he had been corrector to a 
 printing-house. He had no sooner popped out these words, 
 but he remembered Roquebrune had lent him money, which 
 made him pursue his jest no farther ; to which the poet, 
 dashed out of countenance at Rancour's words, replied, 
 that he could not deny but that he had corrected some few 
 sheets, but then they were nothing but what he had pub- 
 lished of his own. Madam Star, to shift the discourse, 
 told Donna Inezilla, that since she was mistress of so many 
 fine stories, she could not be angry if she often importuned 
 her to relate some of them. The Spanish lady replied she 
 was ready to give her satisfaction presently. They took 
 
72 SCARRON 
 
 her at her word, and all the company having seated them- 
 selves round her, she began a story, though not in the 
 very same words you will find in the following chapter ; 
 yet so intelligibly, as made them guess she was mistress 
 of a great deal of wit in Spanish, since she discovered so 
 much in a language to whose delicacies she was a perfect 
 stranger. 
 
 THE IMPOSTER OUTWITTED 
 
 A YOUNG lady of the city of Toledo, named Victoria, 
 descended from the ancient family of Portocarrero, 
 had retired to a house she had on the banks of 
 the Tagus, about half a league distant from that city, 
 in the absence of her brother, who was a captain of a 
 troop of horse in the I^ow Countries. She became a 
 widow at seventeen, having been wedded to an old gentle- 
 man that had got a great estate in the Indies, but who six 
 months after his marriage, perished in a storm at sea, 
 leaving much wealth to his wife. This fair widow after 
 the death of her husband, kept house constantly with her 
 brother, where she lived in such repute that at the age of 
 twenty all the mothers proposed her for a pattern for their 
 children, the husbands to their wives, and the lovers to 
 their desires, as a conquest worthy their ambition. But as 
 her retirement had cooled the love of many so, on the 
 other hand, it increased the esteem the whole world had 
 for her. In this country house she enjoyed at liberty all 
 the innocent pleasures of a rural life ; when one morning 
 her shepherds brought to her a couple of men, whom they 
 had found stripped of all their clothes, and bound safe to 
 a tree, to which they had been tied the whole night. They 
 had lent each of them a scurvy shepherd's coat to cover 
 their nakedness ; and in this fine equipage they appeared 
 before the fair Victoria. So mean a habit did not hide 
 from her the noble mien of the younger, who made her a 
 genteel compliment, and told her be was a gentleman of 
 Cordova, Don I^opes de Gongora by name, who traveling 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 73 
 
 from Seville to Madrid about business of great importance, 
 and having overstayed his time at play, about half a day's 
 journey from Toledo, where he had dined the day before, 
 the night surprised them ; and both he and his man fall- 
 ing asleep, expecting a mule driver who stayed behind, 
 some thieves finding them in that condition, tied them to 
 a tree, having first stripped them. Victoria doubted not 
 the truth of his relation, his good mien pleading in his 
 favor ; however thought it would be a great piece of 
 generosity in her to relieve a stranger reduced to this sad 
 extremity. It happened by good luck, that among the 
 clothes her brother had left in her custody, there were 
 some suits, for the Spaniards never part with their old 
 clothes, though they make new ones. They chose the 
 finest, and that which fitted best the master's shape ; and 
 his man was also clothed with what they could find next 
 at hand. Dinner-time being come, this stranger whom 
 Victoria had invited to her table, appeared so accomplished, 
 and entertained her with so much wit, that she thought 
 the relief she had afforded him could never have been 
 better bestowed. They conversed together the remain- 
 ing part of the day, and were so much taken with 
 each other's perfections, that neither of them slept ,so 
 quietly that night as they had done before. The stranger 
 would needs send his man to Madrid, to fetch him 
 money, and buy him some clothes, or at least he pre- 
 tended to do so ; but the fair widow would by no means 
 suffer him, promising to lend him as much as would carry 
 him to his journey's end. He made some overtures of 
 love to her the very same day, and she gave him a favor- 
 able audience. In fine, in a fortnight's time, the op- 
 portunity of the place, the equal merit of these two 
 persons, a great many oaths and vows on one side, too 
 much frankness and credulity on the other, a promise of 
 marriage rendered, and their reciprocal faith plighted in 
 the presence of an old gentleman-usher and waiting-woman, 
 made her to commit a fault she had hitherto been thought 
 incapable of, and put this happy stranger in possession of 
 the most beautiful lady of Toledo. For eight days to- 
 gether it was nothing but love and dear, fire and flames. 
 
74 SCARRON 
 
 and the like, betwixt these two lovers. But now part they 
 must and tears will succeed. Victoria indeed had right to 
 stay him, but the stranger pretended he lost a great deal 
 by not going ; however professed, that since he had been 
 so happy as to win her heart, he would mind no more 
 either his lawsuit at Madrid, or his preferment at court. 
 Hereupon she grew impatient to have him gone; her pas- 
 sion it seems not having blinded her reason so much as to 
 make her prefer the pleasure of his company to that of his 
 advancement. She got new clothes made for him and his 
 man at Toledo, furnished him with as much money as he 
 desired ; and so he set forward on his journey to Madrid, 
 mounted on a good mule and his man on another. The 
 poor lady was full of real grief at his departure, and he 
 was no less afflicted, or at least pretended to be so, with 
 the greatest hypocrisy in the world. The same day he 
 took his journey the chambermaid, making his bed, found 
 a picture-case wrapped in a letter ; she carried them imme- 
 diately to her mistress, who found in the case the portrait- 
 ure of a most beautiful young lady, and reading the letter, 
 it contained these words, or others to the same effect : — 
 
 "Dbar Cousin, 
 
 " Here inclosed I send you the picture of the beautiful 
 Elvira de Sylva, but when you shall see her, you will be 
 apt to confess how infinitely the resemblance falls short of 
 the original ; and how much brighter her beauty is, than 
 that the painter could draw for her. Her father, Don Pe- 
 dro de Sylva, expects you with impatience. The articles 
 of marriage betwixt you and her are already drawn up ac- 
 cording to your wishes, and in my opinion, very much to 
 your advantage. All this, I hope, will be sufficient to 
 hasten your journey. Farewell. 
 
 " Don Antonio de Ribsra. 
 « Madrid, » etc. 
 
 This letter was directed to Ferdinand de Ribera at 
 Seville. Now imagine, I beseech you, Victoria's astonish- 
 ment at the reading of this epistle, which in all probability, 
 could be written to no other than her false Lopes de 
 Gongora. She now perceived, but too late, that this 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 75 
 
 Stranger, whom she had so highly and so hastily obliged, 
 had disguised his name ; and thereby was fully assured of 
 his infidelity and treachery. The beauty of the lady in 
 the picture made her to feel all the torments of jealousy, 
 and the articles of marriage already drawn up, almost 
 distracted her with despair. Never was any mortal 
 creature more sensibly afflicted ; her sighs went near to 
 burst her heart, and she shed such a flood of tears that 
 her head ached most intolerably. ** Miserable, abandoned 
 woman that I am," said she to herself (and sometimes 
 would also bemoan herself before her old gentleman-usher, 
 and waiting-woman, who had both been witnesses of her 
 marriage) " have I thus long been so discreet and reserved 
 to commit at last a most irreparable fault? And have I 
 refused so many men of quality of my acquaintance, who 
 would have thought themselves but too happy in the 
 enjoyment of me, to throw myself away upon a stranger, 
 who perhaps laughs at my easy creduliiy now he has 
 ruined my fame, and made me forever miserable? What 
 will they say of me at Toledo ; nay, what will they say 
 over all Spain? Can a young, base, cheating pretender, 
 be discreet? Why did I let him know I loved him, before 
 I was assured of the sincerity of his heart? Would he 
 have changed his name, if he had meant to keep his 
 flattering promises? Or can I hope, after all this, that he 
 will not reveal his easy conquest over me? What will not 
 my brother be provoked to do to me, for what I have 
 done against myself? And to what purpose is he now 
 courting glory and fame in Flanders, if I must disgrace 
 him thus in Spain? No, no, Victoria, thou must do any- 
 thing to repair this crime. But before I proceed to 
 vengeance and desperate remedies, I must try to regain by 
 craft what I have lost by my imprudence. It will then be 
 time enough to have recourse to desperate methods, when 
 all other means prove ineffectual.* Victoria had, it seems, 
 a great spirit, and presence of mind, since she could fix on 
 so good a resolution at such a plunge. Her old gentle- 
 man-usher, and her waiting-woman, would have both 
 given her advice ; but she told them she knew as much as 
 they could say, and that actions and not words must now 
 
76 SCARRON 
 
 do her business. The very same day, a couple of carts 
 were laden with household stuff and necessaries, Victoria 
 giving out among her domestics that she had pressing 
 occasions concerning her brother, which called her to 
 Court. She took coach with her squire and woman, and 
 hastened to Madrid, whither her goods were appointed to 
 follow. As soon as she arrived there, she inquired for 
 Don Pedro de Sylva's house, and being informed where- 
 abouts it was, hired one for herself in the same street. 
 Her gentleman-usher's name was Roderigo Santillane, who 
 from his youth had been bred by Victoria's father, which 
 made him to love his mistress as if she had been his own 
 sister. Having much acquaintance in Madrid, where he 
 had spent his youthful days, he soon discovered that Don 
 Pedro de Sylva's daughter was to be wedded to a gentle- 
 man of Seville named Ferdinand de Eibera, which match 
 had been made up by a cousin of his of the same name, 
 and was so near a conclusion that Don Pedro was already 
 providing servants for his daughter. The very next day 
 Roderigo Santillane, in a plain, but decent garb, Victoria in 
 the habit of a widow of mean condition, accompanied by 
 Beatrix the waiting-woman, who was to personate her 
 mother-in-law, and Roderigo's wife, went all together to 
 Don Pedro's and desired to speak with him. Don Pedro 
 received them very civilly, whom Roderigo acquainted 
 with much assurance that he was a decayed gentleman of 
 the mountains of Toledo, and having but one only daughter 
 by his first wife, which was Victoria, whose husband died 
 not long since at Seville, and finding his own and his 
 daughter's fortune very low, he had brought her to Court 
 to get some good service ; and moreover, having been 
 informed that he was about settling his daughter's family 
 upon her marriage, he hoped he would not take it un- 
 kindly that he came to proffer the young widow's service 
 to him, she being a person very fit to be a duenna to the 
 bride ; adding, his daughter's merit gave him the greater 
 confidence to present her to him, not doubting but that 
 her breeding and good qualities would procure her a little 
 better title to her mistress's favor than the small stock 
 of beauty she had to recommend her. Before I proceed 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 77 
 
 any further, I must advertise those that are unacquainted 
 with it, that the ladies in Spain keep duennas in their 
 houses, and that those duennas are much the same with 
 our governantes or ladies of honor belonging to persons 
 of quality. I must add to this, that the duennas in 
 Spain are severe and troublesome animals, no less dread- 
 ful than a domineering mother-in-law is esteemed among 
 us. To go on with my story, Roderigo played his part 
 so well, and Victoria, beautiful as she was, appeared so 
 agreeable in her modest and plain attire, and had such a 
 promising look in her face, that Don Pedro de Sylva 
 accepted of her immediately to govern his daughter. He 
 proffered Roderigo and his wife an employment in his 
 house likewise; but he excused himself, and told him 
 he had some reasons not to accept of the honor he in- 
 tended him ; but having a house in the same street, 
 he would be ready to wait on him at any time he should 
 command it. Thus was Victoria entertained in Don 
 Pedro's house, infinitely beloved both by him and his 
 daughter, and no less envied by all the other servants. 
 Don Antonio de Ribera, who had contrived the match 
 between his faithless cousin and Don Pedro de Sylva's 
 daughter, came often to bring Don Pedro news that his 
 kinsman was on his journey, and had written to him of his 
 setting forth from Seville, and yet this cousin did not ap- 
 pear. This very much perplexed him, nor could Don Pedro 
 and Elvira tell what to make of it. But still Victoria was 
 the most concerned. However, Don Ferdinand was not 
 able to come so soon. For the very same day he parted 
 from Victoria, heaven had in some measure punished his 
 treachery ; for as he passed through Illescas, a fierce dog 
 running out of a house unawares, affrighted his mule so 
 terribly that his leg was sorely bruised against a wall, he 
 thrown down, and his knee put out of joint, which pained 
 him so exceedingly that he could not prosecute his jour- 
 ney. He was seven or eight days under the surgeons' 
 hands, who were none of the most skillful ; when his ail- 
 ment growing worse and worse, he at length acquainted his 
 cousin with his misfortune, desiring him withal to send him 
 a horse-litter. The news of his friend's fall afflicted no less 
 
78 SCARRON 
 
 than the knowledge of his being so nigh pleased them. 
 Victoria, who still loved him, was not a little disquieted. 
 Don Antonio sent a litter to convey Don Ferdinand to 
 Madrid, where, being arrived, while they were providing 
 clothes for him and his retinue, which was to be very mag- 
 nificent, he being the eldest son of the family, and wealthy 
 enough, the surgeons of Madrid, more skillful than those 
 at Illescas, cured him perfectly well. Don Pedro de Sylva 
 and his daughter Elvira had notice of the day when Don 
 Antonio de Ribera was to bring his cousin Don Ferdinand 
 to them; It is probable the young Elvira did not neglect 
 herself upon that occasion, nor that Victoria was without 
 concern at this intended interview. She saw her faithless 
 lover enter, tricked up like a bridegroom ; and if he was so 
 charming in a poor naked deshabille, what must he be now 
 in his wedding-clothes? Don Pedro was very well satisfied 
 with him, and his daughter must have been very nice had 
 she not been fully pleased. All the servants of the house 
 stared with all the eyes they had upon their young lady's 
 bridegroom, and every one of the family was overjoyed at 
 the match, except the poor Victoria, whose heart you may 
 imagine was oppressed with grief. Don Ferdinand was 
 charmed with Elvira's beauty, and confessed to his cousin 
 that she was yet more beautiful than her picture, accord- 
 ing to what he had hinted in his letter. His first compli- 
 ments displayed a great deal of wit, and he very skillfully 
 avoided those impertinent fooleries, and starched nonsense, 
 which most men are guilty of in their first addresses to a 
 father-in-law and a mistress. Don Pedro de Sylva locked 
 himself up in a closet with the two kinsmen and a lawyer, 
 to adjust somewhat that was left unfinished in the articles. 
 In the meantime Elvira stayed in her chamber, surrounded 
 by her women, who all expressed their joy at the good 
 mien and noble air of her lover. Only Victoria stood cold 
 and silent, while the rest were in their raptures. Elvira 
 observed this, therefore took her aside to tell her that she 
 admired she said nothing of the happy choice her father 
 made of a son-in-law who seemed so deserving ; adding, that 
 either out of complaisance or civility she ought at least to 
 wish her joy. 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 79 
 
 "Madam," replied Victoria, "your lover's mien speaks so 
 much to his advantage, that it were needless for me to add 
 my commendations ; the coldness you have taken notice of 
 does not proceed from any indifference ; and I were un- 
 worthy of the favors you have vouchsafed me should I not 
 share in everything that concerns you ; and therefore should 
 be no less transported with joy at your marriage, than all 
 the rest about you are, were I not so well acquainted with 
 the gentleman you are about to wed. My own husband was 
 an inhabitant of Seville, whose house was not far off from 
 your lover's. He is, I confess, of a good family, rich, 
 handsome, and, I believe, a man of wit. In fine, he is 
 worthy a lady such as you are. But withal I must tell 
 you, Madam, you desire a man's entire affection, which he 
 cannot bestow on you, because his heart is divided. I 
 could waive a discovery which may perhaps displease you : 
 but I should be wanting in my duty should I not reveal 
 all I know of Don Ferdinand in a business which so nearly 
 concerns the happiness or unhappiness of your whole life." 
 
 Elvira was amazed at her duenna's words, and entreated 
 her not to defer any longer the clearing of those doubts she 
 had started. 
 
 Victoria replied it was neither to be done before her 
 women, nor in few words. Elvira pretended she had some 
 business of privacy in her chamber, when as soon as they 
 were alone, Victoria told her, that Ferdinand de Ribera was 
 in love at Seville with one I/Ucretia de Monsalva, a very 
 beautiful lady, though of a very mean fortune, by whom 
 he had three children, upon promise of marriage ; and that 
 during Ribera 's father's life it was kept secret ; after whose 
 death I^ucretia, having claimed his promise, he grew indif- 
 ferent to her, whereupon she had left the business to the 
 management of two gentlewomen, her relations, who had made 
 so much noise in Seville that Don Ferdinand, through his 
 friend's persuasion, absented himself for a while, to shun the 
 rage of I,ucretia's kindred, who sought for nothing so 
 much as blood and revenge. " In this posture were his af- 
 fairs," added she, "when I left Seville, which is about a 
 month ago, at which time it was also reported that Don 
 Ferdinand was going to Madrid to be married." Elvira could 
 
So SCARRON 
 
 not forbear asking, whether that Lucretia were a great 
 beauty ? Victoria told her she wanted nothing but a for- 
 tune; so left her extremely pensive, and firmly resolved to 
 give her father instantly an account of the discovery. At 
 the same moment, she was called to entertain her lover, the 
 business for which he had retired into the closet with her 
 father being concluded. Elvira went to him, while Victoria 
 stayed in the withdrawing-room, where the same fellow 
 came to her that attended on him when she so generously 
 received them into her house near Toledo. This servant 
 brought a packet of letters for his master, which he had 
 taken up at the post-office from Seville, and not knowing 
 Victoria, so much her widow's weeds disguised her, he de- 
 sired to be admitted to the speech of his master, to deliver 
 him his letters. She told him it would be a good while 
 before he could conveniently speak with him ; but if he 
 durst trust her with his packet, she would be sure to give 
 it him as soon as she possibly could. The fellow made no 
 scruple in the matter, but having left the packet in her 
 custody, went about his business. Victoria, who was re- 
 solved to leave no stone unturned to revenge herself, goes 
 up to her own chamber, opens the packet, and in a mo- 
 ment seals it up again, together with a letter of her own, 
 which she had written in haste. In the meantime, the 
 two kinsmen made an end of their visit, and took their 
 leave. Elvira, espying the packet in her governante's hands, 
 asked what it was? Victoria coldly answered, that Don 
 Ferdinand's servant had left a packet of some letters with 
 her to deliver to his master, which she was going to send 
 after him, not being in the way when he went out. Elvira 
 said it would give them some farther light about the dis- 
 covery she had made, and therefore she would open them. 
 This being what was desired, Victoria breaks open the 
 seal a second time : Elvira looked upon all the letters, and 
 fixing her eye upon one which seemed to be written by a 
 woman, addressed to Don Ferdinand de Ribera at Madrid, she 
 read the following lines : — 
 
 "Your absence, and the news I hear of your marriage at 
 Court, will soon deprive you of a person that valued you 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 8i 
 
 above her own life, unless you suddenly return, and make 
 good your promise ; which you can neither defer any 
 longer, nor deny me without a manifest indifference or 
 breach of faith. If what I hear be true, that you regard 
 your vows and promises so little, which you have made 
 both to me and our children, I advise you to take care of 
 your life ; which my relations are resolved to take for your 
 treachery, whenever your ungrateful usage shall prompt me 
 to call upon them for my just revenge, since you enjoy it 
 now only at my request. I^ucretia d:^ Monsalva. 
 
 « Sevii,i,e,* etc. 
 
 Klvira having read this letter was thoroughly persuaded 
 of the truth of what her governante had told her. More- 
 over she showed it to her father, who could not but ad- 
 mire that a gentleman of his quality could be so base as 
 to be treacherous to a lady of equal birth with him, after 
 he had had so many children by her. Thereupon he went 
 to a gentleman of Seville for farther information, being a 
 friend of his, and one that had before given him an ac- 
 count of Ferdinand's wealth and circumstances. He was 
 scarce gone out of doors, when Don Ferdinand came to in- 
 quire for his packet, attended by his servant, who told him 
 that his mistress's governante had promised to deliver it into 
 his hands. He found Elvira alone in the parlor, and told 
 her that though the engagement which was between her 
 and him might excuse two visits in one day, yet he now 
 only came for the letters his man had told him he had left 
 with her duenna. Elvira freely told him that she had 
 taken them from her, and had had the curiosity to break 
 them open ; not doubting but a man of his years had some 
 amorous engagements in so great a city as Seville ; and 
 though her curiosity afforded her but little satisfaction, yet 
 had she met with this caution in recompense ; that it was 
 dangerous for people to be married together before they 
 were thoroughly acquainted ; adding, she would not debar 
 him any longer of the pleasure of perusing his letters ; and 
 therefore immediately restored him his packet, together 
 with the counterfeit letter : and after making him a shght 
 curtesy, left him without waiting for his answer. Don 
 6 
 
82 SCARRON 
 
 Ferdinand was strangely surprised at his mistress's dis- 
 course. He perused the supposed letter, and quickly per- 
 ceived it was a trick to hinder his marriage. He addressed 
 himself to Victoria, who remained in the outward room, 
 and told her, without taking much notice of her face, that 
 either some rival or malicious person had contrived that 
 letter to abuse him. 
 
 « I a wife in Seville ! " cried he with amazement : " I 
 children ! If this be not the most impudent imposture that 
 ever was set on foot, I'll forfeit my head ! " 
 
 Victoria told him he might possibly be innocent; how- 
 ever, Elvira in common discretion could do no less than 
 make a farther inquiry into the truth ; and that therefore 
 the marriage would certainly be put off till her father, Don 
 Pedro, could be convinced by a gentleman of Seville, a 
 friend of his (whom he was then gone to seek on purpose), 
 that this was only a pretended intrigue. 
 
 " With all my heart, " answered he ; * and if there be but 
 a lady of the name of I/Ucretia de Monsalva in all Seville, 
 let me forfeit the honor and reputation of a gentleman. 
 And let me entreat you, " added he, " to let me know, if 
 you are so far in your lady's favor as I suppose you to 
 be, that I may bespeak your good offices on this occa- 
 sion. " 
 
 " Truly, " answered Victoria, " I believe, without vanity, 
 that she will not do a thing upon anybody's account that 
 she has refused to do on mine. But withal I know her 
 humor to be such that she is not easily appeased when she 
 thinks herself disobliged. And as all the hopes of mending 
 my fortune depend on the kindness she has for me, I shall 
 never offer to contradict her out of complaisance to you, 
 nor hazard her displeasure by endeavoring to work her out 
 of the ill opinion she has of your sincerity. I am but 
 poor, * added she, " and not to get anything were to lose a 
 great deal. If what she has promised to give me in case 
 I marry a second time should fail, I might live a widow 
 all the rest of my days, though I am yet young enough 
 and not so deformed but that somebody or other may like 
 me. But it is an old saying, and a true one, that without 
 money " 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 83 
 
 She was thus going on with a true governante's tedious 
 tale — for to act her part to the life she must talk a great 
 deal — when Don Ferdinand, interrupting her, said: "Do 
 me but one piece of service I shall require of you, and I 
 will put you above the hopes of your mistress's reward. 
 And, " added he, * to convince you that my promises are 
 not empty words, give me but pen, ink, and paper, and you 
 shall immediately have what you will under my hand." 
 
 "Jesu! Signior," said the feigned governante, "a gentle- 
 man's word is as good as his bond, but to obey you, I 
 will fetch you what you desire." She returned again with 
 materials enough to have drawn a bond for a million of 
 gold, and Don Ferdinand was so gallant, or at least had 
 such a month's mind to Elvira, that he signed her a blank, 
 leaving her to fill it up as she pleased, thereby to engage 
 her to serve him with the greater zeal. This raised Vic- 
 toria up to the clouds. She promised wonders to Don 
 Ferdinand, and moreover told him she wished herself the 
 unhappiest of all her sex if she did not act in this busi- 
 ness as if she herself had been a party concerned. In this 
 she spoke a great truth. Don Ferdinand left her full of 
 hopes ; and Roderigo Santillane, who went for her father, 
 being come to visit her, to learn how her intrigue ad- 
 vanced, she gave him an account of all, and showed him 
 the blank paper subscribed ; for which he with her gave 
 thanks to heaven, finding now that all things seemed to 
 contribute to her happiness. To lose no time, he went 
 home to the house that Victoria had hired not far from 
 Don Pedro's, as I have before related, where he filled up 
 the blank Don Ferdinand had given, with a promise of 
 marriage attested by witnesses, and dated about the same 
 time that Victoria received this faithless man into her 
 country-house. He v;as as skillful a penman as any in 
 Spain, and had studied Don Ferdinand's hand so exactly 
 well in a copy of verses of his own writing, that even Don 
 Ferdinand himself would have been mistaken in the forgery, 
 and thought it to have been his own hand. Don Pedro de 
 Sylva could not meet with the gentleman he sought to be 
 informed by about Don Ferdinand's amours, therefore 
 left a note for him, and so came back to his house ; where 
 
84 SCARRON 
 
 that same night Elvira unbosomed her secrets to her gov- 
 emante, and vowed she would sooner disobey her father 
 than ever marry Don Ferdinand, confessing withal that she 
 had been pre-engaged to one Don Diego de Maradas a long 
 while before, and had in all reason complied enough with 
 her father's commands and her own duty, by putting a 
 constraint on her inclinations, to satisfy him ; but since 
 heaven had ordered it so that Ferdinand's treachery was dis- 
 covered, she thought, by refusing him, she obeyed the divine 
 pleasure, which seemed to allot her another husband. You 
 may imagine Victoria fortified Elvira in these good resolutions, 
 and spoke quite contrary to Don Ferdinand's expectations. 
 
 "Don Diego de Maradas," said then Elvira to her, "is 
 much dissatisfied with me for having paid this obedience to 
 my father ; but the least inviting look from me will how- 
 ever be sure to bring him back, were he at as great a 
 distance from me as Don Ferdinand is from his I^ucretia." 
 
 "Write to him, madam," quoth Victoria, "and I will 
 willingly be your messenger." 
 
 Elvira was overjoyed to find her governante so favorable 
 to her designs ; she commanded the coach to be made 
 ready for Victoria, who immediately went away with a 
 billet-doux for Don Diego, and being alighted at her father 
 Santillane's, sent the coach back again, telling the coach- 
 man she would walk the rest of the way whither she 
 designed to go. Honest Santillane showed her the promise 
 of marriage he had drawn up, whereupon she immediately 
 wrote two little notes, one to Don Diego de Maradas, the 
 other to Don Pedro de Sylva, her lady's father, wherein 
 she entreated both of them to repair to her house about 
 business, with the direction where she dwelt, and sub- 
 scribed herself Victoria Portocarrero. While these notes 
 were carrying, Victoria strips ofE her black weeds, puts on 
 very rich clothes, pulls out her locks (which I have been 
 told were of the finest colored hair that could be), and 
 dressed her head as nicely as if she had been going to 
 Court. Don Diego de Maradas came a while after, to 
 know what concern a lady to whom he was a perfect 
 stranger could have with him. She received him verv 
 civilly, and they were scarce set down, when it was told 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 85 
 
 her that Don Pedro de Sylva was come likewise to wait 
 upon her. She entreated Don Diego to conceal himself in 
 her alcove, assuring him it concerned him very much to 
 hear the discourse she should have with Don Pedro. He 
 easily complied with the desire of a lady of so much beauty 
 and so good a mien, and Don Pedro was admitted into 
 Victoria's chamber, not knowing her, so much had her 
 headdress and rich attire changed her face and heightened 
 her majestic air. She desired him to place himself in a 
 chair, whence Don Diego might easily hear all they said, 
 and then she began in these words : — 
 
 "I think, sir, I ought in the first place to inform you 
 who I am, because in all probability you are impatient to 
 know it. I am of the family of the Portocarreros, born in 
 the city of Toledo, where I was married at the age of six- 
 teen, and became a widow about six months after. My 
 father was a knight of the order of St. Jago, and my 
 brother of the order of Callatrava.* 
 
 Don Pedro interrupted her, to let her know her father 
 was his intimate friend. ' 
 
 "What you tell me rejoices me extremely," answered 
 Victoria, "for I shall have occasion for a great many 
 friends in the affair I design to acquaint you with." After 
 this she informed Don Pedro of all that passed between her 
 and Don Ferdinand, and put into his hands the promise of 
 marriage counterfeited by Santillane. He had no sooner 
 read it, but she went on thus : " You know, sir, what 
 honor obliges persons of my quality to do in these cases ; 
 for though justice should be partially denied me, yet have 
 my friends power and credit enough to prosecute my in- 
 terest to the highest. I thought, sir, it became me to let 
 you know my pretensions, that you might put a stop to that 
 match you had designed for your daughter. She deserves 
 better than to be thrown away upon a faithless man ; and 
 I believe you are more discreet than to procure her a hus- 
 band whom another has a right to dispute with her." 
 
 "Were he a grandee of Spain," replied Don Pedro, "I 
 would have nothing to do with him if he were unjust and 
 false as you say he is. I shall therefore not only refuse 
 him my daughter, but likewise forbid him my house. As 
 
86 SCARRON 
 
 for yourself, madam," continued he, "both my friends and 
 interest are at your service. I had notice given me before, 
 that he was a man that pursued his pleasure even to the 
 hazard of his reputation ; and being of that temper, though 
 you had no title to him, yet should he never have my 
 daughter, who, I hope in God, shall not want a husband 
 in the Court of Spain." 
 
 Don Pedro took his leave of Victoria, perceiving she had 
 no more to say to him ; and then she called Don Diego out 
 of the alcove, where he had overheard all the conversation 
 she had with her mistress's father. This spared her the 
 labor of repeating her story to him. She delivered Elvira's 
 letter to him, which transported him with joy ; and lest he 
 should be in pain to know how she came by it, she in- 
 trusted him with her metamorphosis into a duenna, know- 
 ing he was as much concerned as herself to keep it secret. 
 Don Diego, before he left Victoria, wrote an answer to his 
 mistress's letter, wherein the infinite joy he expressed for 
 his revived hopes plainly discovered the real affliction he 
 had been in ever since he thought them quite lost. He 
 parted from the fair widow, who presently put on her gov- 
 ernante's habit, and returned to Don Pedro's. 
 
 In the interim Don Ferdinand de Ribera was come to 
 wait on his mistress, and had taken his cousin Don An- 
 tonio along with him to endeavor to set all to rights 
 again, which had been charged against him by Victoria's 
 feigned letter. Don Pedro found them with his daughter, 
 who knew not what to answer when they both desired no 
 better justification than only a due inquiry whether there 
 ever were in Seville such a lady as I^ucretia de Monsalva. 
 They renewed the same plea to Don Pedro to clear Don 
 Ferdinand; to which he answered that if that engagement 
 with the lady of Seville was a supposition, it was so much 
 the easier to be cleared ; but that he came from a lady of 
 Toledo, named Victoria Portocarrero, to whom Don Ferdi- 
 nand had promised marriage, and to whom he was still 
 more engaged by having been so generously assisted by her 
 when a mere stranger to her ; which he could not deny, 
 since she had under his hand and seal a promise of 
 marriage ; adding withal, that a person of honor ought not 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS 87 
 
 to court a wife at Madrid, while he had one already at 
 Toledo. At these words he showed the two cousins the 
 promise of marriage in due form. Don Antonio knew his 
 cousin's writing, and Don Ferdinand, mistaking it, though 
 he were confident he had never given any such, yet was 
 quite confounded at the sight of it. The father and 
 daughter withdrew, after they had coldly bid them fare- 
 well. Don Antonio quarreled with his cousin for employ- 
 ing him in this treaty when he had another on foot 
 before. They took coach together, where Don Antonio, 
 having made him confess his unhandsome proceeding with 
 Victoria, reproached him a thousand times with the 
 heinousness of the fact, and withal represented to him the 
 evil consequence that was like to attend it. He told him 
 he must not think of getting a wife either at Madrid or in 
 any part of Spain after this rate; and that he were happy 
 if he could get off by marrying Victoria without forfeiting 
 his life with his honor, Victoria's brother being a person 
 not used to put up so foul afEronts without full satisfac- 
 tion. It was Don Ferdinand's part to be silent, while his 
 cousin continued his reproaches. His conscience sufficiently 
 accused him of treachery and falsehood to a lady that had 
 so highly obliged him ; but this promise of marriage how- 
 ever almost distracted him, not knowing by what strange 
 enchantment they had made him to grant it. Victoria, 
 being come back to Don Pedro's in her widow's weeds, 
 delivered Don Diego's letter to Elvira, who told her how 
 the two kinsmen had been there to justify themselves; but 
 that Don Ferdinand had been charged with other-guess prac- 
 tices than his amour with the lady of Seville. She afterward 
 related what Victoria knew better than herself, though she 
 pretended to admire at and detest Don Ferdinand's baseness. 
 The same day Elvira was invited to a play at one of her 
 relations. Victoria, whose thoughts still ran upon her own 
 affairs, hoped, if Elvira would follow her counsel, that this 
 play might prove favorable to her design. She told her 
 young lady that, if she had a mind to meet her lover, Don 
 Diego, there was nothing more easy, her father's house 
 being the most convenient that could be; and that, 
 since the play was not to begin till midnight, she might 
 
88 SCARRON 
 
 go out a little earlier, and liave time enough to speak 
 with Don Diego, and after go to her relation's. Elvira, 
 who really loved Don Diego, and had consented to marry 
 Don Ferdinand merely out of respect to her father's com- 
 mands, showed no reluctance to do what Victoria had pro- 
 pounded. They therefore took coach as soon as ever Don 
 Pedro was gone to bed, and went to Victoria's house. 
 Santillane, as master of the family, and Beatrix, who per- 
 sonated the mother-in-law, welcomed them very kindly. 
 Elvira wrote a billet to Don Diego, which was delivered 
 immediately; while Victoria despatched another privately 
 to Don Ferdinand in Elvira's name, to let him know 
 it was in his power to complete the match, on which 
 his extraordinary merit engaged her to adventure, as 
 not desiring to make herself unhappy forever by losing 
 him, only to please a father's crabbed suspicious hu- 
 mor. In the same note she gave him such particular 
 directions how to find the house, that it was impossible 
 he should miss it. This note was carried a little while 
 after that other from Elvira to Don Diego. Victoria wrote 
 a third likewise, which Santillane carried himself to Don 
 Pedro de Sylva, by which she informed him, as a trusty 
 governante, that his daughter, instead of going to the play, 
 would needs stop at her father's house, and had sent for 
 Don Ferdinand to consummate her nuptials with him ; 
 which she believing to be contrary to his consent, thought 
 herself obliged to give him notice of it, to the end he might 
 be sensible he was not at all mistaken in the good opinion 
 he had entertained of her honesty, when he chose her for 
 his daughter's governante. Santillane likewise told Don 
 Pedro that his daughter had charged him not to come 
 thither by any means without bringing an alguazil with 
 him, which is an officer much like to a commissary in Paris. 
 Don Pedro, then being in bed, hastened to put on his clothes 
 in a great passion. But while he is dressing, and sending 
 for a commissary, let us go back and see what they are 
 doing at Victoria's. By good fortune the notes came safe 
 to the brace of lovers' hands. Don Diego, who had received 
 his first, came first to the assignation. Victoria met him at 
 the door, and conducted him into a chamber, where she 
 
THE STROLLING PLAYERS S9 
 
 left him with Elvira. I will not trouble you with the relation 
 of all the endearments that passed betwixt these two young 
 lovers ; and if I would, Don Ferdinand's knocking at the 
 door will not give me time to do it. Victoria lets him in 
 herself, after having magnified the great service she had 
 done him on this occasion ; for which the amorous spark 
 returned her a thousand thanks, promising he would yet do 
 more for her than all his former promises engaged him to. 
 She leads him into a chamber, where she desired him to 
 stay a while for Elvira, who was coming, and so locked 
 him in without light, telling him his mistress would needs 
 have it so, but that it would not be long before he should 
 be visible again ; adding that a young ladj^'s modesty would 
 not suffer her to bear, without blushing, the sight of a 
 man for whom she had committed so bold an action. This 
 done, Victoria, with all the haste she could, attired herself 
 as well and as nicely as the short time would permit. She 
 goes into the chamber where Don Ferdinand was, who had 
 not the least suspicion but that she was Elvira, being no 
 less young than she, and having such perfumes about her, 
 according to the Spanish fashion, as would have made a 
 chambermaid pass for a woman of quality. 
 
 In this interim Don Pedro, the alguazil, and Santillane 
 arrive. They enter the chamber where Elvira was in private 
 with her lover ; at which they both were not a little sur- 
 prised. Don Pedro, blinded by the first transports of his 
 passion, was ready to run the person through whom he 
 took for Don Ferdinand. The commissary, discovering it 
 was not he, but Don Diego, held his arm, bidding him to 
 have a care what he did, since it was not Don Ferdinand 
 de Ribera that was with his daughter, but Don Diego de 
 Maradas, a person of no less quality and riches. Don Pedro 
 at this behaved himself like a discreet gentleman, and raised 
 his daughter, who had cast herself at his feet. He wisely con- 
 sidered that if he should cross her inclination by opposing this 
 match, he would create both her and himself a great deal of 
 trouble ; and besides could not pitch upon a better son-in- 
 law, though he had the choosing of one himself. Santillane 
 desired Don Pedro, the alguazil, and all that were with 
 them in the room, to follow him, when be led them to 
 
9° 
 
 SCARRON 
 
 the chamber where Don Ferdinand was shut up with Vic- 
 toria. They commanded the door to be opened in the 
 King's name. Don Ferdinand letting them in, and seeing 
 DonPedro, attended by the commissary, told them, with a 
 great deal of confidence, that he was with his wife Elvira 
 de Sylva. Don Pedro answered he was mistaken, his 
 daughter being married to another ; "and as for you," added 
 he, "you cannot deny but that Victoria Portocarrero is 
 your lawful wife." Victoria then discovered herself to her 
 faithless gallant, who remained full of confusion. She ex- 
 postulated his ingratitude with him, to whom his silence, 
 was his only plea, as well as to the commissary, who told 
 him he could do no less than carry him to prison. In 
 short, his remorse of conscience, and fear of imprisonment, 
 together with Don Pedro's exhortations, who minded him 
 of his honor and reputation, joined to Victoria's tears and 
 beauty, nothing inferior to that of Elvira, and, above all 
 the rest, some sparks of generosity still remaining in his 
 heart, notwithstanding his debaucheries and youthful follies, 
 made him at length, with reason and justice, to yield to 
 Victoria's bright charms. He tenderly embraced her, she 
 being likely to swoon in his arms, which no doubt but his 
 warm kisses preserved her from. Don Pedro, Don Diego, and 
 fair Elvira shared in Victoria's happiness, and Santillane 
 and Beatrix were ready to die for joy. Don Pedro very 
 much commended Don Ferdinand for thus nobly repairing 
 the wrongs he had committed. The two young ladies em- 
 braced each other with as great testimonies of love as if 
 they had hugged their own husbands. Don Diego de Ma- 
 radas made a thousand protestations of his obedience to 
 his father-in-law, or he that should be so in a short time. 
 Don Pedro, before he went home with his daughter, made 
 them to promise that they would all come and dine the 
 next day at his house, where for fifteen days together he 
 endeavored, by solemn rejoicings, to dispel the thoughts of 
 their past troubles. The alguazil was invited too, who 
 promised to be there. Don Pedro took him along with him ; 
 and Don Ferdinand remained with Victoria, who now had 
 as much reason to bless her good fortune, as she formerly 
 had to curse her evil. 
 
SENTIMENT 
 
 yOLNEY 
 
 The Ruins of Empires 
 
SENTIMENT 
 
 COUNT VOI.NEY 
 
 Voi<nby's work, here represented, is a thoroughly French 
 inspiration, peculiarly illustrative of the tone and tem- 
 per of the later eighteenth century thought, and of 
 the afEected style of the day. Behind its sounding periods 
 there is nobility of conception and great power of expres- 
 sion. The author was a man of mark in more ways than 
 one. 
 
 Constantin Francois Chassebceuf Volney, born in 1757, 
 •was able to spend several early years in Egypt and Syria, 
 where his studies qualified him for the writing of scholarly 
 books and for active work as a member of the States- 
 General. "The Ruins of Empires" appeared in 1791. 
 The writer finds himself among the ruins of Palmyra, 
 which move him to ponder the rise of nations to greatness 
 and the causes of their decadence and extinction. Biased 
 though he was by the dominant cast of philosophic thought 
 of his time, there is a loftiness of view and utterance in 
 his meditations that cannot but impress the reader with 
 admiration and respect. The theme is as fascinating now 
 as ever and the moral awaits consideration by the wisest 
 in the nations. 
 
 Volney tried the experiment of developing trade in colo- 
 nial products, buying an estate in Corsica for that purpose. 
 His zeal for political reforms landed him in prison, where 
 he spent ten months during the reign of terror. I,ater he 
 became professor of history in the Ecole Normale, and pub- 
 lished his lectures, which had conspicuous merit and cour- 
 age. Then he visited the United States, the only printed 
 outcome being a work on the soil and climate. 
 
 (93) 
 
94 COUNT VOLNEY 
 
 As a scholar, rather than for his political eminence, Na- 
 poleon made Volney a count and senator. Later honors 
 came to him in being made a member of the Institute and 
 Academy and a peer of France. He died in 1825, leaving 
 a fund to insure the publication of his philosophical essays, 
 in which he urged the promotion of the study of Oriental 
 languages as the surest means of bringing the nations into 
 closer, if not fraternal, relations. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 
 
 THE JOURNEY 
 
 IN THS eleventh year of the reign of Abd-ul-Hamid, son 
 of Ahmid, emperor of the Turks ; when the Nogais- 
 Tartars were driven from the Crimea, and a Mussul- 
 man prince of the blood of Gengis-Kahn became the vassal 
 and guard of a Christian woman and queen, I was travel- 
 ing in the Ottoman dominions, and through those prov- 
 inces which were anciently the kingdoms of Egypt and 
 Syria. 
 
 My whole attention bent on whatever concerns the hap- 
 piness of man in a social state, I visited cities, and studied 
 the manners of their inhabitants ; entered palaces, and ob- 
 served the conduct of those who govern ; wandered over 
 fields, and examined the condition of those who cultivated 
 them : and nowhere perceiving aught but robbery and de- 
 vastation, tyranny, and wretchedness, my heart was oppressed 
 with sorrow and indignation. 
 
 I saw daily on my road fields abandoned, villages de- 
 serted, and cities in ruin. Often I met with ancient monu- 
 ments, wrecks of temples, palaces and fortresses, columns, 
 aqueducts, and tombs. This spectacle led me to meditate 
 on times past, and filled my mind with contemplations the 
 most serious and profound. 
 
 Arrived at the city of Hems, on the border of the Oron- 
 tes, and being in the neighborhood of Palmyra of the 
 desert, I resolved to visit its celebrated ruins. After three 
 days journeying through arid deserts, having traversed the 
 Valley of Caves and Sepulchres, on issuing into the plain, 
 
 (95) 
 
96 VOLNEY 
 
 I was suddenly struck with a scene of the most stupend- 
 ous ruins — a countless multitude of superb columns, stretch- 
 ing in avenues beyond the reach of sight. Among them 
 were magnificent edifices, some entire, others in ruins ; the 
 earth every where strewed with fragments of cornices, capi- 
 tals, shafts, entablatures, pilasters, all of white marble, and 
 of the most exquisite workmanship. After a walk of three- 
 quarters of an hour along these ruins, I entered the enclos- 
 ure of a vast edifice, formerly a temple dedicated to the 
 Sun ; and accepting the hospitality of some poor Arabian 
 peasants, who had built their hovels on the area of the 
 temple, I determined to devote some days to contemplate^ at 
 leisure the beauty of these stupendous ruins. 
 
 Daily I visited the monuments which covered the plain ; 
 and one evening, absorbed in reflection, I had advanced to 
 the Valley of Sepulchres. I ascended the heights which 
 surround it from whence the eye commands the whole 
 group of ruins and the immensity of the desert. The sun 
 had sunk below the horizon : a red border of light still 
 marked his track behind the distant mountains of Syria ; 
 the full-orbed moon was rising in the east, on a blue 
 ground, over the plains of the Euphrates; the sky was 
 clear, the air calm and serene ; the dying lamp of day still 
 softened the horrors of approaching darkness : the refresh- 
 ing night breezes attempered the sultry emanations from 
 the heated earth ; the herdsmen had given their camels to 
 repose, the eye perceived no motion on the dusky and uni- 
 form plain ; profound silence rested on the desert ; the 
 bowlings only of the jackal, and the solemn notes of the 
 bird of night, were heard at distant intervals. Darkness 
 now increased, and through the dusk could only be dis- 
 cerned the pale phantasms of columns and walls. The soli- 
 tude of the place, the tranquillity of the hour, the majesty 
 of the scene, impressed on my mind a religious pensiveness. 
 The aspect of a great city deserted, the memory of times 
 past, compared with its present state, all elevated my mind 
 to high contemplations. I sat on the shaft of a column, 
 my elbow reposing on my knee, and head reclining on my 
 hand, my eyes fixed, sometimes on the desert, sometimes 
 on the ruins, and fell into a profound reverie. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 97 
 
 THE REVERIE 
 
 HERB, said I, once flourislied an opulent city ; here was 
 the seat of a powerful empire. Yes ! these places 
 now so wild and desolate, were once animated by a 
 living multitude ; a busy crowd thronged in these streets, 
 now so solitary. Within these walls, where now reigns the 
 silence of death, the noise of the arts, and the shouts of joy 
 and festivity incessantly resounded; these piles of marble 
 were regular palaces ; these fallen columns adorned the 
 majesty of temples ; these ruined galleries surrounded public 
 places. Here assembled a numerous people for the sacred 
 duties of their religion, and the anxious cares of their sub- 
 sistence; here industry, parent of enjoyments, collected the 
 riches of all climes, and the purple of Tyre was exchanged 
 for the precious thread of Serica ; the soft tissues of Cassi- 
 mere for the sumptuous tapestry of I^ydia ; the amber of 
 the Baltic for the pearls and perfumes of Arabia ; the gold 
 of Ophir for the tin of Thule. 
 
 And now behold what remains of this powerful city : a 
 miserable skeleton ! What of its vast domination : a doubt- 
 ful and obscure remembrance ! To the noisy concourse 
 -which thronged under these porticoes, succeeds the solitude 
 of death. The silence of the grave is substituted for the 
 busy hum of public places ; the affluence of a commercial 
 city is changed into wretched poverty ; the palaces of kings 
 have become a den of wild beasts ; flocks repose in the area 
 of temples, and savage reptiles inhabit the sanctuary of the 
 gods. Ah ! how has so much glory been eclipsed ? how 
 have so many labors been annihilated? Do thus perish 
 then the works of men — thus vanish empires and nations? 
 And the history of former times revived in my mind; I 
 remembered those ancient ages when many illustrious na- 
 tions inhabited these countries ; I figured to myself the As- 
 syrian on the banks of the Tigris, the Chaldean on the 
 banks of the Euphrates, the Persian reigning from the In- 
 dus to the Mediterranean. I enumerated the kingdoms of 
 Damascus and Idumea, of Jerusalem and Samaria, the war- 
 7 
 
98 VOLNEY 
 
 like states of the Philistines, and the commercial republics 
 of Phoenicia. This Syria, said I, now so depopulated, then 
 contained a hundred flourishing cities, and abounded with 
 towns, villages, and hamlets. In all parts were seen culti- 
 vated fields, frequented roads, and crowded habitations. 
 Ah ! whither have flown those ages of life and abundance? 
 — whither vanished those brilliant creations of human in- 
 dustry? Where are those ramparts of Nineveh, those walls 
 of Babylon, those palaces of Persepolis, those temples of 
 Balbec and of Jerusalem? Where are those fleets of Tyre, 
 those dock-yards of Arad, those work-shops of Sidon, and 
 that multitude of sailors, of pilots, of merchants, and of 
 soldiers? Where those husbandmen, harvests, flocks, and 
 all the creation of living beings in which the face of the 
 earth rejoiced ? Alas ! I have passed over this desolate 
 land 1 I have visited the palaces, once the scene of so much 
 splendor, and I beheld nothing but solitude and desolation. 
 I sought the ancient inhabitants and their works, and found 
 nothing but a trace, like the foot-prints of a traveler over 
 the sand. The temples are fallen, the palaces overthrown, 
 the ports filled up, the cities destroyed ; and the earth, 
 stripped of inhabitants, has become a place of sepulchres. 
 Great God ! whence proceed such fatal revolutions ? What 
 causes have so changed the fortunes of these countries ? 
 Wherefore are so many cities destroyed ? Why has not this 
 ancient population been reproduced and perpetuated? 
 
 Thus absorbed in meditation, a crowd of new reflections 
 continually poured in upon my mind. Every thing, con- 
 tinued I, bewilders my judgment, and fills my heart with 
 trouble and uncertainty. When these countries enjoyed 
 what constitutes the glory and happiness of man, they were 
 inhabited by infidel nations : It was the Phoenician, offering 
 human sacrifices to Moloch, who gathered into his stores 
 the riches of all climates ; it was the Chaldean, prostrate 
 before his serpent-god, who subjugated opulent cities, laid 
 waste the palaces of kings, and despoiled the temples of 
 the gods ; it was the Persian, worshiper of fire, who re- 
 ceived the tribute of a hundred nations; they were the in- 
 habitants of this very city, adorers of the sun and stars, 
 who erected so many monuments of prosperity and luxury. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 99 
 
 Numerous herds, fertile fields, abundant harvests — what- 
 soever should be the reward of piety — was in the hands of 
 these idolaters. And now, when a people of saints and be- 
 lievers occupy these fields, all is become sterility and soli- 
 tude. The earth, under these holy hands, produces only 
 thorns and briers. Man soweth in anguish, and reapeth 
 tears and cares. War, famine, pestilence, assail him by 
 turns. And yet, are not these the children of the prophets ? 
 The Mussulman, Christian, Jew, are they not the elect 
 children of God, loaded with favors and miracles? Why, 
 then, do these privileged races no longer enjoy the same 
 advantages? Why are these fields, sanctified by the blood 
 of martyrs, deprived of their ancient fertility? Why have 
 those blessings been banished hence, and transferred for so 
 many ages to other nations and different climes? 
 
 At these words, revolving in my mind the vicissitudes 
 which have transmitted the sceptre of the world to people 
 so different in religion and manners from those in ancient 
 Asia to the most recent of Europe, this name of a natal 
 land revived in me the sentiment of my country ; and turn- 
 ing my eyes toward France, I began to reflect on the 
 situation in which I had left her in 1782. 
 
 I recalled her fields so richly cultivated, her roads so ad- 
 mirably constructed, her cities inhabited by a countless 
 people, her fleets spread over every sea, her ports filled 
 with the produce of both the Indies : and then comparing 
 the activity of her commerce, the extent of her navigation, 
 the magnificence of her buildings, the arts and industry of 
 her inhabitants, with what Egypt and Syria had once pos- 
 sessed, I was gratified to find in modern Europe the de- 
 parted splendor of Asia ; but the charm of my reverie was 
 soon dissolved by a last term of comparison. Reflecting 
 that such had once been the activity of the places I was 
 then contemplating, who knows, said I, but such may one 
 day be the abandonment of our countries? Who knows if 
 on the banks of the Seine, the Thames, the Zuyder-Zee, 
 where now, in the tumult of so many enjoyments, the 
 heart and the eye suffice not for the multitude of sensa- 
 tions, — who knows if some traveler, like myself, shall not 
 one day sit on their silent ruins, and weep in solitude over 
 
loo VOLNEY 
 
 the ashes o£ their inhabitants, and the memory of their 
 former greatness. 
 
 At these words, my eyes filled with tears : and covering 
 my head with the fold of my mantle, I sank into gloomy 
 meditations on all human affairs. Ah ! hapless man, said I 
 in my grief, a blind fatality sports with thy destiny ! A 
 fatal necessity rules with the hand of chance the lot of 
 mortals ! But no : it is the justice of heaven fulfilling its 
 decrees ! — a God of mystery exercising his incomprehen- 
 sible judgments ! Doubtless he has pronounced a secret 
 anathema against this land : blasting with maledictions the 
 present, for the sins of past generations. Oh ! who shall 
 dare to fathom the depths of the Omnipotent? 
 
 And sunk in profound melancholy, I remained motionless. 
 
 SOURCES OF THE EVII^ OF SOCIETY 
 
 IN TRUTH, scarcely were the faculties of men developed, 
 when, inveigled by objects which gratify the senses, 
 they gave themselves up to unbridled desires. The 
 sweet sensations which nature had attached to their real 
 wants, to endear to them their existence, no longer satisfied 
 them. Not content with the abundance offered by the 
 earth or, produced by industry, they wished to accumtilate 
 enjoyments, and coveted those possessed by their fellow 
 men. The strong man rose up against the feeble to take 
 from him the fruit of his labor ; the feeble invoked another 
 feeble one to repel the violence. Two strong ones then 
 said : — 
 
 « Why fatigue ourselves to produce enjoyments which we 
 may find in the hands of the weak? I^et us join and de- 
 spoil them ; they shall labor for us, and we will enjoy 
 without labor." 
 
 And the strong associating for oppression, and the weak 
 for resistance, men mutually afflicted each other; and a 
 general and fatal discord spread over the earth, in which 
 the passions, assuming a thousand new forms, have gener- 
 ated a continued chain of misfortunes. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES loi 
 
 Thus the same self-love which, moderate and prudent, 
 was a principle of happiness and perfection, becoming blind 
 and disordered, was transformed into a corrupting poison ; 
 and cupidity, ofEspring and companion of ignorance, became 
 the cause of all the evils that have desolated the earth. 
 
 Yes, ignorance and cupidity ! these are the twin sources 
 of all the torments of man ! Biased by these into false 
 ideas of happiness, he has mistaken or broken the laws of 
 nature in his own relation with external objects; and in- 
 juring his own existence, has violated individual morality ; 
 shutting through these his heart to compassion, and his 
 mind to justice, he has injured and afflicted his equal, and 
 violated social morality. From ignorance and cupidity, 
 man has armed against man, family against family, tribe 
 against tribe ; and the earth is become a theatre of blood, 
 of discord, and of rapine. By ignorance and cupidity, a 
 secret war, fermenting in the bosom of every state, has 
 separated citizen from citizen ; and the same society has 
 divided itself into oppressors and oppressed, into masters 
 and slaves ; by these, the heads of a nation, sometimes in- 
 solent and audacious, have forged its chains within its own 
 bowels; and mercenary avarice has founded political des- 
 potism. Sometimes, hypocritical and cunning, they have 
 called from heaven a lying power, and a sacrilegious yoke; 
 and credulous cupidity has founded religious despotism. 
 By these have been perverted the ideas of good and evil, 
 just and unjust, vice and virtue ; and nations have wan- 
 dered in a labyrinth of errors and calamities. 
 
 The cupidity of man and his ignorance, — these are the 
 evil genii which have wasted the earth ! These are the de- 
 crees of fate which have overthrown empires ! These are 
 the celestial anathemas which have smitten these walls once 
 so glorious, and converted the splendor of a populous city 
 into a solitude of mourning and of ruins ! But as in the 
 bosom of man has sprung all the evils which have afflicted 
 his life, there he also is to seek and to find their remedies. 
 
VOLNEY 
 
 ORIGIN OF GOVERNMENT AND I,AWS 
 
 IN PACT, it soon happened that men, fatigued with the 
 evils they reciprocally inflicted, began to sigh for 
 peace ; and reflecting on their misfortunes and the causes 
 of them, they said : — 
 
 "We are mutually injuring each other by our passions; 
 and, aiming to grasp every thing, we hold nothing. What 
 one seizes to-day, another takes to-morrow, and our cu- 
 pidity reacts upon ourselves. I,et us establish judges, who 
 shall arbitrate our rights, and settle our differences. When 
 the strong shall rise against the weak, the judge shall re- 
 strain him, and dispose of our force to suppress violence ; 
 and the life and property of each shall be under the guar- 
 antee and protection of all ; and all shall enjoy the good 
 things of nature." 
 
 Conventions were thus formed in society, sometimes ex- 
 press, sometimes tacit, which became the rule for the action 
 of individuals, the measure of their rights, the law of their 
 reciprocal relations ; and persons were appointed to super- 
 intend their observance, to whom the people confided the 
 balance to weigh rights, and the sword to punish trans- 
 gressions. 
 
 Thus was established among individuals a happy equilib- 
 rium of force and action, which constituted the common 
 security. The name of equity and of justice was recognized 
 and revered over the earth ; every one, assured of enjoy- 
 ing in peace, the fruits of his toil, pursued with energy 
 the objects of his attention ; and industry, excited and 
 maintained by the reality or the hope of enjoyment, de- 
 veloped all the riches of art and of nature. The fields 
 were covered with harvests, the valleys with flocks, the 
 hills with fruits, the sea with vessels, and man became 
 happy and powerful on the earth. Thus did his own wis- 
 dom repair the disorder which his imprudence had oc- 
 casioned ; and that wisdom was only the effect of his own 
 organization. He respected the enjoyments of others in 
 order to secure his own ; and cupidity found its corrective 
 in the enlightened love of self. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 103 
 
 Thus the love of self, the moving principle of every in- 
 dividual, becomes the necessary foundation of every asso- 
 ciation ; and on the observance of that law of our nature 
 has depended the fate of nations. Have the factitious and 
 conventional laws tended to that object and accomplished 
 that aim? Every one, urged by a powerful instinct, has 
 displayed all the faculties of his being ; and the sum of 
 individual felicities has constituted the general felicity. 
 Have these laws, on the contrary, restrained the effort of 
 man toward his own happiness ? His heart, deprived of 
 its exciting principle, has languished in inactivity, and from 
 the oppression of individuals has resulted the weakness of 
 the state. 
 
 As self-love, impetuous and improvident, is ever urging 
 man against his equal, and consequently tends to dissolve 
 society, the art of legislation and the merit of adminis- 
 trators consists in attempering the conflict of individual 
 cupidities, in maintaining an equilibrium of powers, and 
 securing to every one his happiness, in order that, in the 
 shock of society against society, all the members may have 
 a common interest in the preservation and defense of the 
 public welfare. 
 
 The internal splendor and prosperity of empires then, 
 have had for their efficient cause the equity of their laws 
 and government ; and their respective external powers have 
 been in proportion to the number of persons interested, 
 and their degree of interest in the public welfare. 
 
 On the other hand, the multiplication of men, by com- 
 plicating their relations, having rendered the precise limita- 
 tion of their rights difficult, the perpetual play of the 
 passions having produced incidents not foreseen — their 
 conventions having been vicious, inadequate, or nugatory — 
 in fine, the authors of the laws having sometimes mistaken, 
 sometimes disguised their objects ; and their ministers, 
 instead of restraining the cupidity of others, having given 
 themselves up to their own ; all these causes have in- 
 troduced disorder and trouble into societies; and the 
 viciousness of laws and the injustice of governments, flow- 
 ing from cupidity and ignorance, have become the causes 
 of the misfortunes of nations, and the subversion of states. 
 
104 VOLNEY 
 
 GENERAL CAUSES OF THE PROSPERITY OF 
 ANCIENT STATES 
 
 SUCH, O man who seekest wisdom, such have been the 
 causes of revolution in the ancient states of which 
 thou contemplatest the ruins ! To whatever spot I 
 direct my view, to whatever period my thoughts recur, the 
 same principles of growth or destruction, of rise or fall, 
 present themselves to my mind. Wherever a people is 
 powerful, or an empire prosperous, there the conventional 
 laws are conformable with the laws of nature — the govern- 
 ment there procures for its citizens a free use of their 
 faculties, equal security for their persons and property. If, 
 on the contrary, an empire goes to ruin, or dissolves, it 
 is because its laws have been vicious, or imperfect, or 
 trodden under foot by a corrupt government. If the laws 
 and government, at first wise and just, become afterward 
 depraved, it is because the alternation of good and evil is 
 inherent to the heart of man, to a change in his propen- 
 sities, to his progress in knowledge, to a combination of 
 circumstances and events; as is proved by the history of 
 the species. 
 
 In the infancy of nations, when men yet lived in the for- 
 est, subject to the same wants, endowed with the same 
 faculties, all were nearly equal in strength ; and that equal- 
 ity was a circumstance highly advantageous in the compo- 
 sition of society : as every individual, thus feeling himself 
 sufficiently independent of every other, no one was the 
 slave, none thought of being the master of another. Man, 
 then a novice, knew neither servitude nor tyranny ; fur- 
 nished with resources sufficient for his existence, he thought 
 not of borrowing from others ; owning nothing, requiring 
 nothing, he judged the rights of others by his own, and 
 formed idds of justice sufficiently exact. Ignorant, more- 
 over, in the art of enjoyments, unable to produce more than 
 his necessaries, possessing nothing superfluous, cupidity re- 
 mained dormant ; or if excited, man, attacked in his real wants, 
 resisted it with energy, and the foresight of such resistance 
 ensured a happy balance. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 105 
 
 Thus original equality, in default of compact, maintained 
 freedom of person, security of property, good manners, and 
 order. Every one labored by himself and for himself ; and 
 the mind of man, being occupied, wandered not to culpable 
 desires. He had few enjoyments, but his wants were satis- 
 fied ; and as indulgent nature had made them less than his 
 resources, the labor of his hands soon produced abundance 
 — abundance, population; the arts unfolded, culture ex- 
 tended, and the earth, covered with numerous inhabitants, 
 was divided into different dominions. 
 
 The relations of man becoming complicated, the internal 
 order of societies became more difficult to maintain. Time 
 and industry having generated riches, cupidity became more 
 active ; and because equality, practicable among individuals, 
 could not subsist among families, the natural equilibrium 
 was broken ; it became necessary to supply it by a factitious 
 equilibrium ; to set up chiefs, to establish laws ; and in the 
 primitive inexperience, it necessarily happened that these 
 laws, occasioned by cupidity, assumed its character. But 
 different circumstances concurred to correct the disorder, and 
 oblige governments to be just. 
 
 States, in fact, being weak at first, and having foreign 
 enemies to fear, the chiefs found it their interest not to op- 
 press their subjects ; for, by lessening the confidence of the 
 citizens in their government, they would diminish their means 
 of resistance — they would facilitate foreign invasion, and 
 by exercising arbitrary power, have endangered their very 
 existence. 
 
 In the interior, the firmness of the people repelled 
 tyranny ; men had contracted too long habits of independ- 
 ence ; they had too few wants, and too much conscious- 
 ness of their own strength. 
 
 States being of a moderate size, it was difficult to divide 
 their citizens so as to make use of some for the oppression 
 of others. Their communications were too easy, their in- 
 terest too clear and simple : besides, every one being a pro- 
 prietor and cultivator, no one needed to sell himself, and 
 the despot could find no mercenaries. 
 
 If, then dissension arose, they were between family and 
 family, faction and faction, and they interested a great 
 
io6 VOLNEY 
 
 number. The troubles, indeed, were warmer ; but fears from 
 abroad pacified discord at home. If the oppression of a party 
 prevailed, the earth being still unoccupied, and man, still in 
 a state of simplicity, finding every where the same advan- 
 tages, the oppressed party emigrated, and carried elsewhere 
 their independence. 
 
 The ancient states then enjoyed within themselves numerous 
 means of prosperity and power. Every one finding his own 
 well-being in the constitution of his country, took a lively 
 interest in its preservation. If a stranger attacked it, hav- 
 ing to defend his own field, his own house, he carried into 
 combat all the passions of a personal quarrel ; and, devoted 
 to his own interests, he was devoted to his country. 
 
 As every action useful to the public attracted its esteem 
 and gratitude, every one became eager to be useful ; and 
 self-love multiplied talents and civic virtues. 
 
 Every citizen contributing equally by his talents and 
 person, armies and funds were inexhaustible, and nations 
 displayed formidable masses of power. 
 
 The earth being free, and its possession secure and easy, 
 every one was a proprietor ; and the division of property 
 preserved morals, and rendered luxury impossible. 
 
 Every one cultivating for himself, culture was more 
 active, produce more abundant ; and individual riches be- 
 came public wealth. 
 
 The abundance of produce rendering subsistence easy, 
 population was rapid and numerous, and states attained 
 quickly the term of their plentitude. 
 
 Productions increasing beyond consumption, the necessity 
 of commerce arose ; and exchanges took place between 
 people and people ; which augmented their activity and re- 
 ciprocal advantages. 
 
 In fine, certain countries, at certain times, uniting the 
 advantages of good government with a position on the 
 route of the most active circulation, they became empori- 
 ums of flourishing commerce and seats of powerful domina- 
 tion. And on the shores of the Nile and Mediterranean, 
 of the Tigris and Euphrates, the accumulated riches of 
 India and of Europe raised in successive splendor a hun- 
 dred different cities. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 107 
 
 The people, growing rich, applied their superfluity to 
 works of common and public use; and this was in every 
 state, the epoch of those works whose grandeur astonishes 
 the mind ; of those wells of Tyre, of those dykes of the 
 Euphrates, of those subterranean conduits of Media,* of 
 those fortresses of the desert, of those aqueducts of Pal- 
 myra, of those temples, of those porticoes. And such 
 labors might be immense, without oppressing the nations ; 
 
 * From the town or village of SamouSt the course of the Euphrates 
 is accompanied with a double bank, which descends as far as its 
 junction with the Tigris, and from thence to the sea, being a length 
 of about a hundred leagues, French measure. The height of these 
 artificial banks is not uniform, but increases as you advance from 
 the sea; it may be estimated at from twelve to fifteen feet. But for 
 them, the inundation of the river would bury the country around, 
 which is flat, to an extent of twenty or twenty-five leagues ; and 
 even notwithstanding these banks, there has been in modem times 
 an overflow, which has covered the whole triangle formed by the 
 junction of this river to the Tigris, being a space of country of one 
 hundred and thirty square leagues. By the stagnation of these 
 waters an epidemical disease of the most fatal nature was occasioned. 
 It follows from hence, i. That all the flat country bordering upon 
 these rivers, was originally a marsh ; 2. That this marsh could not 
 have been inhabited previously to the construction of the banks in 
 question ; 3. That these banks could not have been the work but of 
 a population prior as to date ; and the elevation of Babylon, there- 
 fore, must have been posterior to that of Nineveh, as I think I have 
 chronologically demonstrated in the memoir above cited. 
 
 The modem Aderbidj&n, which was a part of Medea, the moun- 
 tains of Koulderstan, and those of^Diarbekr, abound with subterra- 
 nean canals, by means of which the ancient inhabitants conveyed 
 water to their parched soil in order to fertilize it. It was regarded 
 as a meritorious act and a religious duty prescribed by Zoroaster, 
 who, instead of preaching celibacy, mortifications, and other pre- 
 tended virtues of the monkish sort, repeats continually in the passages 
 that are preserved respecting him in the Sad-der and the Zendavesta : — 
 
 *That the action most pleasing to God is to plow and cultivate 
 the earth, to water it with running streams, to multiply vegetation 
 and living beings, to have numerous flocks, young and fruitful virgins, 
 a multitude of children," etc., etc. 
 
 Among the aqueducts of Palmyra it appears certain, that, besides 
 those which conducted water from the neighboring hills, there was 
 one which brought it even from the mountains of Syria. It is to be 
 traced a long way into the Desert where it escapes our search by 
 going under ground. 
 
io8 VOLNEY 
 
 because they were the effect of an equal and common con- 
 tribution of the force of individuals animated and free. 
 
 Thus ancient states prospered, because their social insti- 
 tutions conformed to the true laws of nature ; and because 
 men enjoying liberty and security for their persons and their 
 property, might display all the extent of their faculties, — 
 all the energies of their self-love. 
 
 GENERAIv CAUSES OF THE REVOLUTIONS AND 
 RUIN OF ANCIENT STATES 
 
 CUPIDITY had nevertheless excited among men a con- 
 stant and universal conflict, which incessantly prompt- 
 ing individuals and societies to reciprocal invasions, 
 occasioned successive revolutions, and returning agitations. 
 
 And first, in the savage and barbarous state of the first 
 men, this audacious and fierce cupidity produced rapine, 
 violence, and murder, and retarded for a long time the 
 progress of civilization. 
 
 When afterward societies began to be formed, the effect 
 of bad habits, communicated to laws and governments, 
 corrupted their institutions and objects, and established 
 arbitrary and factitious rights, which depraved the ideas of 
 justice, and the morality of the people. 
 
 Thus one man being stronger than another, their ine- 
 quality — an accident of nature — was taken for her law ; * 
 and the strong being able to take the life of the weak, and 
 yet sparing him, arrogated over his person an abusive right 
 of property ; and the slavery of individuals prepared the 
 way for the slavery of nations. 
 
 * Almost all the ancient philosophers and politidans have laid it 
 down as a principle that men are born unequal, that nature has cre- 
 ated some to be free, and others to be slaves. Expressions of this 
 kind are to be found in Aristotle, and even in Plato, called the 
 divine, doubtless in the same sense as the mythological reveries 
 which he promulgated. With all the people of antiquity, the Gauls, 
 the Romans, the Athenians, the right of the strongest was the right 
 of nations ; and from the same principle are derived all the political 
 disorders and public national crimes that at present exist. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 109 
 
 Because the head of a family could be absolute in his 
 house, he made his own affections and desires the rule of 
 his conduct ; he gave or resumed his goods without equal- 
 ity, without justice; and paternal despotism laid the foun- 
 dation of despotism in government.* 
 
 In societies formed on such foundations, when time and 
 labor had developed riches, cupidity restrained by the laws, 
 became more artful, but not less active. Under the mask of 
 union and civil peace, it fomented in the bosom of every 
 state an intestine war, in which the citizens, divided into 
 contending corps of orders, classes, families, unremittingly 
 struggled to appropriate to themselves, under the name of 
 SUPREME POWER, the ability to plunder every thing, and 
 render every thing subservient to the dictates of their 
 passions ; and this spirit of encroachment, disguised under 
 all possible forms, but always the same in its object and 
 motives, has never ceased to torment the nations. 
 
 *Upoii this single expression it would be easy to write a long and 
 important chapter. We might prove in it, beyond contradiction, that 
 all the abuses of national governments, have sprung from those of 
 domestic government, from that government called patriarchal, which 
 superficial minds have extolled without having analyzed it. Number- 
 less facts demonstrate, that with every infant people, in every savage 
 and barbarous state, the father, the chief of the family, is a despot, 
 and a cruel and insolent despot. The wife is his slave, the children 
 his servants. This king sleeps or smokes his pipe, while his wife 
 and daughters perform all the drudgery of the house, and even that 
 of tillage and cultivation, as far as occupations of this nature ate 
 practiced in such societies ; and no sooner have the boys acquired 
 strength than they are allowed to beat the females, and make them 
 serve and wait upon them as they do upon their fathers. Similar to 
 this is the state of our own uncivilized peasants. In proportion as 
 civilization spreads, the manners become milder, and the condition of 
 the women improves, till, by a contrary excess, they arrive at do- 
 minion, and then a nation becomes effeminate and corrupt. It is 
 remarkable that parental authority is great in proportion as the gov- 
 ernment is despotic. China, India, and Turkey are striking examples 
 of this. One would suppose that tyrants gave themselves accomplices 
 and interested subaltern despots to maintain their authority. In op- 
 position to this the Romans will be cited, but it remains to be proved 
 that the Romans were men truly free ; and their quick passage from 
 their repubUcan despotism to their abject servility under the empe- 
 rors, gives room at least for considerable doubt as to that freedom. 
 
no VOLNEY 
 
 Sometimes, opposing itself to all social compact, or break- 
 ing that which already existed, it committed the inhabit- 
 ants of a country to the tumultuous shock of all their 
 discords ; and states thus dissolved, and reduced to the 
 condition of anarchy, were tormented by the passions of all 
 their members. 
 
 Sometimes a nation, jealous of its liberty, having ap- 
 pointed agents to administer its government, these agents 
 appropriated the powers of which they had only the guar- 
 dianship : they employed the public treasures in corrupting 
 elections, gaining partisans, in dividing the people among 
 themselves. By these means, from being temporary they 
 became perpetual ; from elective, hereditary ; and the state, 
 agitated by the intrigues of the ambitious, by largesses 
 from the rich and factious, by the venality of the poor and 
 idle, by the influence of orators, by the boldness of the 
 wicked, and the weakness of the virtuous, was convulsed 
 with all the inconveniences of democracy. 
 
 The chiefs of some countries, equal in strength and 
 mutually fearing each other, formed impious pacts, nefari- 
 ous associations ; and, apportioning among themselves all 
 power, rank, and honor, unjustly arrogated privileges and 
 immunities ; erected themselves into separate orders and 
 distinct classes ; reduced the people to their control ; and, 
 under the name of aristocracy, the state was tormented 
 by the passions of the wealthy and the great. 
 
 Religious impostors, in other countries, tending by other 
 means to the same object, abused the credulity of the igno- 
 rant. In the gloom of their temples, behind the curtain of 
 the altar, they made their gods act and speak ; gave forth 
 oracles, worked miracles, ordered sacrifices, levied offerings, 
 prescribed endowments; and, under the names of theocracy 
 and of religion, the state became tormented by the passions 
 of the priests. 
 
 Sometimes a nation, weary of its dissensions or of its 
 tyrants, to lessen the sources of evil, submitted to a single 
 master; but if it liro.ited his powers, his sole aim was to 
 enlarge them ; if it left them indefinite, he abused the trust 
 confided to him ; and, under the name of monarchy, the 
 state was tormented by the passions of kings and princes. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES iii 
 
 Then the factions, availing themselves of the general dis- 
 content, flattered the people with the hope of a better 
 master; dealt out gifts and promises, deposed the despot to 
 take his place ; and their contests for the succession, or its 
 partition, tormented the state with the disorders and devas- 
 tations of civil war. 
 
 In fine, among these rivals, one more adroit, or more for- 
 tunate, gained the ascendency, and concentrated all power 
 within himself. By a strange phenomenon, a single indivi- 
 dual mastered millions of his equals, against their will and 
 without their consent ; and the art of tyranny sprung also 
 from cupidity, 
 
 In fact observing the spirit of egotism which incessantly 
 divides mankind, the ambitious man fomented it with dex- 
 terity, flattered the vanity of one, excited the jealousy of 
 another, favored the avarice of this, inflamed the resent- 
 ment of that, and irritated the passions of all ; then, placing 
 in opposition their interests and prejudices, he sowed divi- 
 sion and hatreds, promised to the poor the spoils of the 
 rich, to the rich the subjection of the poor ; threatened one 
 man by another, this class by that ; and insulating all by 
 distrust, created his strength out of their weakness, and 
 imposed the yoke of opinion, which they mutually riveted 
 on each other. With the army he levied contributions, and 
 with contributions he disposed of the army : dealing out 
 wealth and office on these principles, he enchained a whole 
 people in indissoluble bonds, and they languished under the 
 slow consumption of despotism. 
 
 Thus the same principle, varying its action under every 
 possible form, was forever attenuating the consistence of 
 states, and an eternal circle of vicissitudes flowed from an 
 eternal circle of passions. 
 
 And this spirit of egotism and usurpation produced two 
 effects equally operative and fatal : the one of division and 
 subdivision of societies into their smallest fractions, inducing 
 a debility which facilitated their dissolution ; the other, a 
 preserving tendency to concentrate power in a single hand,* 
 
 *It is remarkable that this has in all instances been the constant 
 progress of societies ; beginning with a state of anarchy or democracy, 
 that is, with a great division of power they have passed to aristocracy. 
 
112 VOLNEY 
 
 which, engulfing successively societies amd states, was fatal 
 to their peace and social existence. 
 
 Thus, as in a state, a party absorbed the nation, a fam- 
 ily the party, and an individual the family ; so a movement 
 of absorption took place between state and state, and ex- 
 hibited on a larger scale in the political order, all the par- 
 ticular evils of the civil order. Thus a state having subdued 
 a state, held it in subjection in the form of a province ; 
 and two provinces being joined together formed a kingdom ; 
 two kingdoms being united by conquest, gave birth to em- 
 pires of gigantic size ; and in this conglomeration, the in- 
 ternal strength of states, instead of increasing, diminished ; 
 and the condition of the people, instead of ameliorating, 
 became daily more abject and wretched, for causes derived 
 from the nature of things. 
 
 Because, in proportion as states increased in extent, their 
 administration becoming more difficult and complicated, 
 greater energies of power were necessary to move such 
 masses ; and there was no longer any proportion between the 
 -duties of sovereigns and their ability to perform their duties : 
 
 Because despots, feeling their weakness, feared whatever 
 might develop the strength of nations, and studied only 
 how to enfeeble them : 
 
 Because nations, divided by the prejudices of ignorance 
 and hatred, seconded the wickedness of their governments; 
 and availing themselves reciprocally of subordinate agents, 
 aggravated their mutual slavery : 
 
 Because, the balance between states being destroyed, the 
 strong more easily oppressed the weak. 
 
 Finally, because in proportion as states were concentrated, 
 the people, despoiled of their laws, of their usages, and of 
 the government of their choice, lost that spirit of personal 
 identification with their government, which had caused their 
 energy. 
 
 -and from aristocracy to monarchy. Does it not hence follow that 
 those who constitute states under the democratic form, destine them 
 to undergo all the intervening troubles between that and monarchy ; 
 but it should at the same time be proved that social experience is 
 already exhausted for the human race, and that this spontaneous move- 
 ment is not solely the effect of ignorance. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 113 
 
 And despots, considering empires as their private domains, 
 and the people as their property, gave themselves up to 
 depredations, and to all the licentiousness of the most arbi- 
 trary authority. 
 
 And all the strength and wealth of nations were diverted 
 to private expense and personal caprice ; and kings, fatigued 
 with gratification, abandoned themselves to all the extrava- 
 gancies of factitious and depraved taste.* They must have 
 gardens mounted on arcades, rivers raised over mountains, 
 fertile fields converted into haunts for wild beasts ; lakes 
 scooped in dry lands, rocks erected in lakes, palaces built 
 of marble and porphyry, furniture of gold and diamonds. 
 Under the cloak of religion, their pride founded temples, 
 endowed indolent priests, built, for vain skeletons, extrava- 
 gant tombs, mausoleums, and pyramids ;t millions of hands 
 
 •It is eqtially -worthy of remark, that the conduct and manners of 
 princes and kings of every country and every age, are found to be 
 precisely the same at similar periods, whether of the formation or dis- 
 solution of empires. History every where presents the same pictures 
 of luxury and folly ; of parks, gardens, lakes, rocks, palaces, furniture, 
 excess of the table, wine, women, concluding with brutality. 
 
 The absurd rock in the garden of Versailles has alone cost three 
 millions. I have sometimes calculated what might have been done 
 with the expense of the three pyramids of Gizeh, and I have found 
 that it would easily have constructed, from the Red Sea to Alexandria, 
 a canal one hundred and fifty feet wide and thirty deep, completely 
 covered in with cut stones and a parapet, together with a fortified 
 and commercial town, consisting of four hundred houses, furnished 
 with cisterns. What a difference in point of utility between such a 
 canal and these pyramids! 
 
 t The learned Dupuis could not be persuaded that the pyramids were 
 tombs; but besides the positive testimony of historians, read what 
 Diodorus says of the religious and superstitious importance every 
 Egyptian attached to building his dwelling eternal, b. i. 
 
 During twenty years, says Herodotus, a hundred thousand men 
 labored every day to build the p3Tamid of the Egyptian Cheops. 
 Supposing only three hundred days a year, on account of the Sabbath, 
 there will be 30 millions of days' work in a year, and 600 millions in 
 twenty years ; at 15 sous a day, this makes 450 millions of francs lost, 
 without any further benefit. With this sum, if the king had shut the 
 isthmus of Suez by a strong wall, like that of China, the destinies of 
 Egypt might have been entirely changed. Foreign invasions would 
 have been prevented, and the Arabs of the desert would neither have 
 conquered nor harassed that country. Sterile labors ! how many mil- 
 8 
 
114 VOLNEY 
 
 were employed in sterile labors; and the luxury of princes, 
 imitated by their parasites, and transmitted from grade to 
 grade to the lowest ranks, became a general source of cor- 
 ruption and impoverishment. 
 
 And in the insatiable thirst of enjoyment, the ordinary 
 revenues no longer sufficing, they were augmented ; the 
 cultivator, seeing his labors increase without compensation, 
 lost all courage ; the merchant, despoiled, was disgusted 
 with industry ; the multitude, condemned to perpetual pov- 
 erty, restrained their labor to simple necessaries ; and all 
 productive industry vanished. 
 
 The surcharge of taxes rendering lands a burdensome 
 possession, the poor proprietor abandoned his field, or sold 
 it to the powerful ; and fortune became concentrated in a 
 few hands. All the laws and institutions favoring this ac- 
 cumulation, the nation became divided into a group of 
 wealthy drones, and a multitude of mercenary poor ; the 
 people were degraded with indigence, the great with satiety, 
 and the number of those interested in the preservation of 
 the state decreasing, its strength and existence became pro- 
 portionally precarious. 
 
 On the other hand, emulation finding no object, science 
 no encouragement, the mind sunk into profound ignorance. 
 
 The administration being secret and mysterious, there ex- 
 isted no means of reform or amelioration. The chiefs gov- 
 erning by force or fraud, the people viewed them as a 
 faction of public enemies ; and all harmony ceased between 
 the governors and governed. 
 
 And these vices having enervated the states of the 
 wealthy part of Asia, the vagrant and indigent people of 
 the adjacent deserts and mountains coveted the enjoyments 
 of the fertile plains ; and, urged by a cupidity common to 
 all, attacked the polished empires, and overturned the 
 thrones of their despots. These revolutions were rapid and 
 easy ; because the policy of tyrants had enfeebled the sub- 
 jects, razed the fortresses, destroyed the warriors ; and be- 
 
 lions lost in putting one stone upon another, under the forms of 
 temples and churches ! Alchymists convert stones into gold ; but 
 architects change gold into stone. Woe to the kings (as well as sub- 
 jects) who trust their purse to these two classes of empirics ! 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 115 
 
 cause the oppressed subjects remained without personal 
 interest, and the mercenary soldiers without courage. 
 
 And hordes of barbarians having reduced entire nations 
 to slavery, the empires, formed of conquerors and conquered, 
 united in their bosom two classes essentially opposite and 
 hostile. All the principles of society were dissolved : there 
 was no longer any common interest, no longer any public 
 spirit ; and there arose a distinction of castes and races, 
 which reduced to a regular system the maintenance of dis- 
 order ; and he who was born of this or that blood, was 
 born a slave or a tyrant — property or proprietor. 
 
 The oppressors being less numerous than the oppressed, 
 it was necessary to perfect the science of oppression, in 
 order to support this false equilibrium. The art of govern- 
 ing became the art of subjecting the many to the few. To 
 enforce an obedience so contrary to instinct, the severest 
 punishments were established, and the cruelty of the laws 
 rendered manners atrocious. The distinction of persons es- 
 tablishing in the state two codes, two orders of criminal 
 justice, two sets of laws, the people, placed between the 
 propensities of the heart and the oath uttered from the 
 mouth, had two consciences in contradiction with each 
 other ; and the ideas of justice and injustice had no longer 
 any foundation in the understanding. 
 
 Under such a system, the people fell into dejection and 
 despair; and the accidents of nature were added to the 
 other evils which assailed them. Prostrated by so many 
 calamities, they attributed their causes to superior and hid- 
 den powers ; and, because they had tyrants on earth, they 
 fancied others in heaven ; and superstition aggravated the 
 misfortunes of nations. 
 
 Fatal doctrines and gloomy and misanthropic systems of 
 religion arose, which painted their gods, like their despots, 
 wicked and envious. To appease them, man offered up the 
 sacrifice of all his enjoyments. He environed himself in 
 privations, and reversed the order of nature. Conceiving 
 his pleasures to be crimes, his sufferings expiations, he en- 
 deavored to love pain, and to adjure the love of self. He 
 persecuted his senses, hated his life ; and a self-denying and 
 anti-social morality plunged nations into the apathy of death. 
 
ii6 VOLNEY 
 
 But provident nature having endowed the heart of man 
 with hope inexhaustible, when his desires of happiness 
 were baffled on this earth, he pursued it into another world. 
 By a sweet illusion he created for himself another country 
 — an asylum where, far from tyrants, he should recover the 
 rights of nature, and thence resulted new disorders. Smit- 
 ten with an imaginary world, man despised that of nature. 
 For chimerical hopes, he neglected realities. His life be- 
 gan to appear a troublesome journey — a painful dream ; 
 his body a prison, the obstacle to his felicity; and the 
 earth, a place of exile and of pilgrimage, not worthy of 
 culture. Then a holy indolence spread over the political 
 world ; the fields were deserted, empires depopulated, monu- 
 ments neglected, and deserts multiplied ; ignorance, supersti- 
 tion, and fanaticism, combining their operations, overwhelmed 
 the earth with devastation and ruin. 
 
 Thus agitated by their own passions, men, whether col- 
 lectively or individually taken, always greedy and improvi- 
 dent, passing from slavery to tyranny, from pride to 
 baseness, from presumption to despon'dency, have made 
 themselves the perpetual instruments of their own misfor- 
 tunes. 
 
 These, then, are the principles, simple and natural, which 
 regulated the destiny of ancient states. By this regular 
 and connected series of causes and effects, they rose or fell, 
 in proportion as the physical laws of the human heart 
 were respected or violated ; and in the course of their suc- 
 cessive changes, a hundred different nations, a hundred dif- 
 ferent empires, by turns humbled, elevated, conquered, 
 overthrown, have repeated for the earth their instructive 
 lessons. Yet these lessons were lost for the generations 
 which have followed ! The disorders in times past have 
 reappeared in the present age ! The chief of the nations 
 have continued to walk in the paths of falsehood and 
 tyranny — the people to wander in the darkness of super- 
 stition and ignorance ! 
 
 Since then, continued the Genius, with renewed energy, 
 since the experience of past ages is lost for the living — 
 since the errors of progenitors have not instructed their 
 descendants, the ancient examples are about to reappear; 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 117 
 
 the earth will see renewed the tremendous scenes it has 
 forgotten. New revolutions will agitate nations and em- 
 pires; powerful thrones will again be overturned, and 
 terrible catastrophes will again teach mankind that the 
 laws of nature and the precepts of wisdom and truth can- 
 not be infringed with impunity. 
 
 WIIvL THK HUMAN RACE IMPROVE? 
 
 AT THESE words, oppressed with the painful sentiment 
 with which their severity overwhelmed me : Woe to 
 the nations ! cried I, melting in tears ; woe to my- 
 self ! Ah ! now it is that I despair of the happiness of 
 man ! Since his miseries proceed from his heart ; since the 
 remedy is in his own power, woe forever to his exist- 
 ence ! Who, indeed, will ever be able to restrain the lust 
 of wealth in the strong and powerful? Who can enlighten 
 the ignorance of the weak? Who can teach the multitude 
 to know their rights, and force their chiefs to perform 
 their duties? Thus the race of man is always doomed to 
 suffer ! Thus the individual will not cease to oppress the 
 individual, a nation to attack a nation ; and days of pros- 
 perity, of glory, for these regions, shall never return. 
 Alas ! conquerors will come ; they will drive out the op- 
 pressors, and fix themselves in their place; but, inheriting 
 their power, they will inherit their rapacity; and the earth 
 will have changed tyrants, without changing the tyranny. 
 Then, turning to the Genius, I exclaimed : — 
 O Genius, despair hath settled on my soul. Knowing 
 the nature of man, the perversity of those who govern, 
 and the debasement of the governed — this knowledge hath 
 disgusted me with life ; and since there is no choice but to 
 be the accomplice or the victim of oppression, what remains 
 to the man of virtue but to mingle his ashes with those 
 of the tomb? 
 
 The Genius then gave me a look of severity, mingled 
 with compassion ; and after a few moments of silence, he 
 replied ; — 
 
ii8 VOLNEY 
 
 Virtue, then, consists in dying ! The wicked man is in- 
 defatigable in consummating his crime, and the just is 
 discouraged from doing good at the first obstacle he en- 
 counters ! But such is the human heart. A little success 
 intoxicates man with confidence ; a reverse overturns and 
 confounds him. Always given up to the sensation of the 
 moment, he seldom judges things from their nature, but 
 from the impulse of his passion. 
 
 Mortal, who despairest of the human race, on what pro- 
 found combination of facts hast thou established thy con- 
 clusion? Hast thou scrutinized the organization of sentient 
 beings, to determine with precision whether the instinctive 
 force which moves them on to happiness is essentially 
 weaker than that which repels them from it? or, embrac- 
 ing in one glance the history of the species, and judging 
 the future by the past, hast thou shown that all improve- 
 ment is impossible? Say ! hath human society, since its 
 origin, made no progress toward knowledge and a better 
 state? Are men still in their forests, destitute of every- 
 thing, ignorant, stupid, and ferocious? Are all the nations 
 still in that age when nothing was seen upon the globe 
 but brutal robbers and brutal slaves? If at any time, in 
 any place, individuals have ameliorated, why shall not the 
 whole mass ameliorate? If partial societies have made im- 
 provements, what shall hinder the improvement of society 
 in general? And if the first obstacles are overcome, why 
 should the others be insurmountable? 
 
 Art thou disposed to think that the human race degen- 
 erates? Guard against the illusion and paradoxes of the 
 misanthrope. Man, discontented with the present, imagines 
 for the past a perfection which never existed, and which 
 only serves to cover his chagrin. He praises the dead out 
 of hatred to the living, and beats the children with the 
 bones of their ancestors. 
 
 To prove this pretended retrograde progress from per- 
 fection we must contradict the testimony of reason and of 
 fact ; and if the facts of history are in any measure un- 
 certain, we must contradict the living fact of the organiza- 
 tion of man ; we must prove that he is born with the 
 enlightened use of his senses; that, without experience, he 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 119 
 
 can distinguish aliment from poison ; that the child is wiser 
 than the old man ; that the blind walks with more safety 
 than the clear-sighted; that the civilized man is more 
 miserable than the savage ; and, indeed, that there is no 
 ascending scale in experience and instruction. 
 
 Believe, young man, the testimony of monuments, and 
 the voice of the tombs. Some countries have doubtless 
 fallen from what they were at certain epochs ; but if we 
 weigh the wisdom and happiness of their inhabitants, even 
 in those times, we shall find more of splendor than of 
 reality in their glory ; we shall find, in the most celebrated 
 of ancient states, enormous vices and cruel abuses, the true 
 causes of their decay ; we shall find in general that the prin- 
 ciples of government were atrocious ; that insolent robberies, 
 barbarous wars, and implacable hatreds were raging from 
 nation to nation ; that natural right was unknown ; that 
 morality was perverted by senseless fanaticism and deplorable 
 superstition ; that a dream, a vision, an oracle, were con- 
 stantly the causes of vast commotions. Perhaps the nations 
 are not yet entirely cured of all these evils ; but their in- 
 tensity at least is diminished, and the experience of the past 
 has not been wholly lost. For the last three centuries, es- 
 pecially, knowledge has increased and been extended ; civili- 
 zation, favored by happy circumstances, has made a sensible 
 progress ; inconveniences and abuses have even turned to its 
 advantage ; for if states have been too much extended by 
 <:onquest, the people, by uniting under the same yoke, have 
 lost the spirit of estrangement and division which made 
 them all enemies one to the other. If the powers of gov- 
 ernment have been more concentrated, there has been more 
 system and harmony in their exercise. If wars have become 
 more extensive in the mass, they are less bloody in detail. 
 If men have gone to battle with less personality, less en- 
 ergy, their struggles have been less sanguinary and less 
 ferocious ; they have been less free, but less turbulent"; 
 more effeminate, but more pacific. Despotism itself has ren- 
 dered them some service ; for if governments have been 
 more absolute, they have been more quiet and less tempes- 
 tuous. If thrones have become a property and hereditary, 
 they have excited less dissensions, and the people have 
 
I20 VOLNEY 
 
 suffered fewer convulsions ; finally, if the despots, jealous and 
 mysterious, have interdicted all knowledge of their admin- 
 istration, all concurrences in the management of public af- 
 fairs, the passions of men, drawn aside from politics, have 
 fixed upon the arts, and the sciences of nature ; and the 
 sphere of ideas in every direction has been enlarged ; man, 
 devoted to abstract studies, has better understood his place in 
 the system of nature, and his relations in society ; principles 
 have been better discussed, final causes better explained, 
 knowledge more extended, individuals better instructed, 
 manners more social, and life more happy. The species at 
 large, especially in certain countries, has gained consider- 
 ably ; and this amelioration cannot but increase in future, 
 because its two principal obstacles, those even which, till 
 then, had rendered it slow and sometimes retrograde, — the 
 difficulty of transmitting ideas and of communicating them 
 rapidly, — have been at last removed. 
 
 Indeed, among the ancients, each canton, each city, being 
 isolated from all others by the difference of its language, 
 the consequence was favorable to ignorance and anarchy. 
 There was no communication of ideas, no participation of 
 discoveries, no harmony of interests or of wills, no unity of 
 action or design ; besides, the only means of transmitting 
 and of propagating ideas being that of speech, fugitive and 
 limited, and that of writing, tedious of execution, expensive, 
 and scarce, the consequence was a hindrance of present 
 instruction, loss of experience from one generation to an- 
 other, instability, retrogression of knowledge, and a per- 
 petuity of confusion and childhood. 
 
 But in the modern world, especially in Burope, great na- 
 tions having allied themselves in language, and established 
 vast communities of opinions, the minds of men are as- 
 similated, and their affections extended ; there is a sympa- 
 thy of opinion and a unity of action ; then that gift of 
 heavenly Genius, the holy art of printing, having furnished 
 the means of communicating in an instant the same idea to 
 millions of men, and of fixing it in a durable manner, be- 
 yond the power of tyrants to arrest or annihilate, there 
 arose a mass of progressive instruction, an expanding at- 
 mosphere of science, which assures to future ages a solid 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 121 
 
 amelioration. This amelioration is a necessary effect of the 
 laws of nature ; for, by the law of sensibility, man as in- 
 vincibly tends to render himself happy as the flame to 
 mount, the stone to descend, or the water to find its level. 
 His obstacle is his ignorance, which misleads him in the 
 means, and deceives him in causes and effects. He will 
 enlighten himself by experience; he will become right by 
 dint of errors ; he will grow wise and good because it is 
 his interest so to be. Ideas being communicated through 
 the nation, whole classes will gain instruction ; science will 
 become a common possession, and all men will know what 
 are the principles of individual happiness and of public 
 prosperity. They will know the relations they bear to so- 
 ciety, their duties and their rights; they will learn to 
 guard against the illusions of the lust of gain ; they will 
 perceive that the science of morals is a physical science, 
 composed, indeed, of elements complicated in their opera- 
 tion, but simple and invariable in their nature, since they 
 are only the elements of the organization of man. They 
 will see the propriety of being moderate and just, because 
 in that is found the advantage and security of each ; they 
 will perceive that the wish to enjoy at the expense of an- 
 other is a false calculation of ignorance, because it gives 
 rise to reprisal, hatred, and vengeance, and that dishonesty 
 is the never- failing offspring of folly. 
 
 Individuals will feel that private happiness is allied to 
 public good : 
 
 The weak, that instead of dividing their interests, they 
 ought to unite them, because equality constitutes their 
 force : 
 
 The rich, that the measure of enjoyment is bounded by 
 the constitution of the organs, and that lassitude follows 
 satiety : 
 
 The poor, that the employment of time, and the peace 
 of the heart, compose the highest happiness of man. And 
 public opinion, reaching kings on their thrones, will force 
 them to confine themselves to the limits of regular author- 
 ity. 
 
 Kven chance itself, serving the cause of nations, will 
 sometimes give them feeble chiefs, who, through weakness. 
 
122 VOLNEY 
 
 will suffer them to become free ; and sometimes enlightened 
 chiefs, who, from a principle of virtue, will free them. 
 
 And when nations, free and enlightened, shall become 
 like great individuals, the whole species will have the same 
 facilities as particular portions now have ; the communica- 
 tion of knowledge will extend from one to another, and 
 thus reach the whole. By the law of imitation, the exam- 
 ple of one people will be followed by others, who will 
 adopt its spirit and its laws. Even despots, perceiving that 
 they can no longer maintain their authority without justice 
 and beneficence, will soften their sway from necessity 
 from rivalship; and civilization will become universal. 
 
 There will be established among the several nations an 
 equilibrium of force, which, restraining them all within the 
 bounds of the respect due to their reciprocal rights, shall 
 put an end to the barbarous practice of war, and submit 
 their disputes to civil arbitration.* The human race will 
 become one great society, one individual family, governed 
 by the same spirit, by common laws, and enjoying all the 
 happiness of which their nature is susceptible. 
 
 Doubtless this great work will be long accomplishing ; 
 because the same movement must be given to an immense 
 body ; the same leaven must assimilate an enormous mass 
 -of heterogeneous parts. But this movement shall be 
 effected; its presages are already to be seen. Already the 
 great society, assuming in its course the same characters as 
 partial societies have done, is evidently tending to a like 
 result. At first disconnected in all its parts, it saw its 
 members for a long time without cohesion ; and this gen- 
 eral solitude of nations formed its first age of anarchy and 
 childhood ; divided afterward by chance into irregular sec- 
 tions, called states and kingdoms, it has experienced the 
 fatal effects of an extreme inequality of wealth and rank ; 
 and the aristocracy of great empires has formed its second 
 
 *What is a people? An individual of the society at large. What 
 a war? A duel between two individual people. In what manner 
 ought a society to act when two of its members fight? Interfere and 
 reconcile, or repress them. In the days of the Abb6 de Saint Pierre 
 this was treated as a dream, but happily for the human race it be- 
 .gins to be realized. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 123 
 
 age ; then, these lordly states disputing for preeminence, 
 have exhibited the period of the shock of factions. 
 
 At present the contending parties, wearied with discord, 
 feel the want of laws, and sigh for the age of order and of 
 peace. Let but a virtuous chief arise ! a just, a powerful 
 people appear ! and the earth will raise them to supreme 
 power. The world is waiting for a legislative people ; it 
 wishes and demands it ; and my heart attends the cry. 
 
 Then turning toward the west: Yes, continued he, a 
 hollow sound already strikes my ear ; a cry of liberty, pro- 
 ceeding from far distant shores, resounds on the ancient 
 continent. At this cry, a secret murmur against oppression 
 is raised in a powerful nation ; a salutary inquietude alarms 
 her respecting her situation ; she inquires what she is, and 
 what she ought to be ; while, surprised at her own weak- 
 ness, she interrogates her rights, her resources, and what 
 has been the conduct of her chiefs. 
 
 Yet another day — a little more reflection — and an im- 
 mense agitation will begin ; a new-bom age will open ! an 
 age of astonishment to vulgar minds, of terror to tyrants, 
 of freedom to a great nation, and of hope to the human 
 race! 
 
 THE GREAT OBSTACI^E TO IMPROVEMENT 
 
 THE Genius ceased. But preoccupied with melancholy 
 thoughts, my mind resisted persuasion ; fearing, how- 
 ever, to shock him by my resistance, I remained silent. 
 After a while, turning to me with a look which pierced my 
 soul, he said : — 
 
 Thou art silent, and thy heart is agitated with thoughts 
 which it dares not utter. 
 
 At last, troubled and terrified, I replied : — 
 O Genius, pardon my weakness. Doubtless thy mouth 
 can utter nothing but truth ; but thy celestial intelligence 
 can seize its rays, where my gross faculties can discern 
 nothing but clouds. I confess it ; conviction has not pen- 
 etrated my soul, and I feared that my doubts might offend 
 thee. 
 
124 VOLNEY 
 
 And what is doubt, replied he, that it should be a crime ? 
 Can man feel otherwise than as he is affected? If a truth 
 be palpable, and of importance in practice, let us pity him 
 that misconceives it. His punishment will arise from his 
 blindness. If it be uncertain or equivocal, how is he to 
 find in it what it has not ? To believe without evidence or 
 proof, is an act of ignorance and folly. The credulous 
 man loses himself in a labyrinth of contradictions ; the man 
 of sense examines and discusses, that he may be consistent 
 in his opinions. The honest man will bear contradiction; 
 because it gives rise to evidence. Violence is the argument 
 of falsehood ; and to impose a creed by authority is the act 
 and indication of a tyrant. 
 
 O Genius, said I, encouraged by these words, since my 
 reason is free, I strive in vain to entertain the flattering 
 hope with which you endeavor to console me. The sensi- 
 ble and virtuous soul is easily caught with dreams of 
 happiness ; but a cruel reality constantly awakens it to 
 suffering and wretchedness. The more I meditate on the 
 nature of man, the more I examine the present state of 
 societies, the less possible it appears to realize a world of 
 wisdom and felicity. I cast my eye over the whole of our 
 hemisphere ; I perceive in no place the germ, nor do I 
 foresee the instinctive energy of a happy revolution. All 
 Asia lies buried in profound darkness. The Chinese, gov- 
 erned by an insolent despotism,* by strokes of the bamboo 
 and the cast of lots, restrained by an immutable code of 
 gestures, and by the radical vices of an ill-constructed 
 language, t appear to be in their abortive civilization noth- 
 ing but a race of automatons. The Indian, borne down 
 
 * The emperor of China calls himself the son of heaven ; that is, 
 of God : for in the opinion of the Chinese, the material of heaven, 
 the arbiter of fatality, is the Deity himself. «The emperor only 
 shows himself once in ten months, lest the people, accustomed to see 
 him, might lose their respect ; for he holds it as a maxim that power 
 can only be supported by force, that the people have no idea of jus- 
 tice, and are not to be governed but by coercion.* Narrative of 
 two Mahometan travelers in S51 and Sjj, translated by the Abbi 
 Renaudot in lyiS. 
 
 Notwithstanding what is asserted by the missionaries, this situa- 
 tion has undergone no change. The bamboo still reigns in China, and 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 125 
 
 by prejudices, and enchained in the sacred fetters of his 
 castes, vegetates in an incurable apathy. The Tartar, 
 wandering or fixed, always ignorant and ferocious, lives in 
 the savageness of his ancestors. The Arab, endowed with 
 a happy genius, looses its force and the fruits of his virtue 
 in the anarchy of his tribes and the jealousy of his fam- 
 ilies. The African, degraded from the rank of man, seems 
 irrevocably doomed to servitude. In the North I see noth- 
 ing but vilified serfs, herds of men with which landlords 
 stock their estates. Ignorance, tyranny, and wretchedness 
 have everywhere stupified the nations ; and vicious habits, 
 depraving the natural scenes, have destroyed the very in- 
 stinct of happiness and of truth. 
 
 In some parts of Europe, indeed, reason has begun to 
 dawn, but even there, do nations partake of the knowledge 
 of individuals? Are the talents and genius of governors 
 turned to the benefit of the people? And those nations 
 which call themselves polished, are they not the same that 
 for the last three centuries have filled the earth with their 
 injustice? Are they not those who, under the pretext of 
 commerce, have desolated India, depopulated a new conti- 
 nent, and, at present, subject Africa to the most barbarous 
 slavery? Can liberty be bom from the bosom of despots? 
 and shall justice be rendered by the hands of piracy and 
 and avarice ? O Genius, I have seen the civilized countries ; 
 and the mockery of their wisdom has vanished before my 
 sight. I saw wealth accumulated in the hands of a few, 
 and the multitude poor and destitute. I have seen all 
 
 the son of heaven bastinades, for the most trivial fault, the Mandarin, 
 who in his turn bastinades the people. The Jesuits may tell us that 
 this is the best governed country in the worid, and its inhabitants 
 the happiest of men : but a single letter from Amyot has convinced 
 me that China is a truly Turkish government, and the account of 
 Sonnerat confirms it. See Vol. II. of Voyage aux Indes, in 4to. 
 
 t As long as the Chinese shall in writing make use of their present 
 characters, they can be expected to make no progress in civilization. 
 The necessary introductory step must be the giving them an alphabet 
 like our own, or of substituting in the room of their language that of 
 the Tartars. The improvement made in the latter by M. de Lengles, 
 is calculated to introduce this change. See the Mantchou alphabet, 
 the production of a mind truly learned in the formation of language. 
 
126 VOLNEY 
 
 rights, all powers concentred in certain classes, and the 
 mass of the people passive and dependent. I have seen 
 families of princes, but no families of the nation. I have 
 seen government interests, but no public interests or spirit. 
 I have seen that all the science of government was to op- 
 press prudently ; and the refined servitude of polished na- 
 tions appeared to me only the more irremediable. 
 
 One obstacle above all has profoundly struck my mind. 
 On looking over the world, I have seen it divided into 
 twenty different systems of religion. Ever}' nation has re- 
 ceived, or formed, opposite opinions ; and every one ascrib- 
 ing to itself the exclusive possession of the truth, must 
 believe the other to be wrong. Now if, as must be the 
 fact in this discordance of opinion, the greater part are in 
 error, and are honest in it, then it follows that our mind 
 embraces falsehood as it does truth ; and if so, how is 
 it to be enlightened? When prejudice has once seized the 
 mind, how is it to be dissipated? How shall we re- 
 move the bandage from our eyes, when the first article 
 in every creed, the first dogma in all religion, is the ab- 
 solute proscription of doubt, the interdiction of examina- 
 tion, and the rejection of our own judgment? How is 
 truth to make herself known ? — If she resorts to arguments 
 and proofs, the timid man stifles the voice of his own con- 
 science ; if she invokes the authority of celestial powers, he 
 opposes it with another authority of the same origin, with 
 which he is preoccupied ; and he treats all innovation as 
 blasphemy. Thus man in his blindness, has riveted his own 
 chains, and surrendered himself forever, without defense, to 
 the sport of his ignorance and his passions. 
 
 To dissolve such fatal chains, a miraculous concurrence of 
 happy events would be necessary. A whole nation, cured 
 of the delirium of superstition, must be inaccessible to the 
 impulse of fanatacism. Freed from the yoke of false doc- 
 trine, a whole people must impose upon itself that of true 
 morality and reason. This people should be courageous 
 and prudent, wise and docile. Each individual, knowing 
 his rights, should not trangress them. The poor should 
 know how to resist seduction, and the rich the allure- 
 ments of avarice. There should be found leaders disinter- 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 127 
 
 ested and just, and their tyrants should be seized with a 
 spirit of madness and folly. This people, recovering its 
 rights, should feel its inability to exercise them in person, 
 and should name its representatives. Creator of its magis- 
 trates, it should know at once to respect them and to judge 
 them. In the sudden reform of a whole nation, accus- 
 tomed to live by abuses, each individual displaced should 
 bear with patience his privations, and submit to a change 
 of habits. This nation should have the courage to conquer 
 its liberty, the power to defend it, the wisdom to establish 
 it, and the generosity to extend it to others. And can we 
 ever expect the union of so many circumstances ? But sup- 
 pose that chance in its infinite combinations should produce 
 them, shall I see those fortunate days? Will not my ashes 
 long ere then be moldering in the tomb? 
 
 Here, sunk in sorrow, my oppressed heart no longer 
 found utterance. The Genius answered not, but I heard 
 him whisper to himself : — 
 
 I,et us revive the hope of this man ; for if he who loves 
 his fellow creatures be suffered to despair, what will be- 
 come of nations ? The past is perhaps too discouraging ; I 
 must anticipate futurity, and disclose to the eye of virtue 
 the astonishing age that is ready to begin ; that, on view- 
 ing the object she desires, she may be animated with new 
 ardor, and redouble her efforts to attain it. 
 
 THE NEW AGE 
 
 SCARCELY had he finished these words, when a great 
 tumult arose in the west ; and turning to that quar- 
 ter, I perceived, at the extremity of the Mediter- 
 ranean, in one of the nations of Europe, a prodigious 
 movement — such as when a violent sedition arises in a 
 vast city — a numberless people, rushing in all directions, 
 pour through the streets and fluctuate like waves in the 
 public places. My ear, struck with the cries which re- 
 sounded to the heavens, distinguished these words : — 
 
128 VOLNEY 
 
 What is this new prodigy? What cruel and mysterious 
 scourge is this? We are a numerous people and we want 
 hands ! We have an excellent soil, and we are in want of 
 subsistence ! We are active and laborious, and we live in 
 indigence ! We pay enormous tributes, and we are told 
 they are not sufficient ! We are at peace without, and our 
 persons and property are not safe within. Who, then, is 
 the secret enemy that devours us? 
 Some voices from the midst of the multitude replied : — 
 Raise a discriminating standard; and let all those who 
 maintain and nourish mankind by useful labors gather 
 round it ; and you will discover the enemy that preys 
 upon you. 
 
 The standard being raised, this nation divided itself at 
 once into two bodies of unequal magnitude and contrasted 
 appearance. The one, innumerable, and almost total, ex- 
 hibited in the poverty of its clothing, in its emaciated 
 appearance, and sun-burnt faces, the marks of misery and 
 labor ; the other, a little group, an insignificant faction, 
 presented in its rich attire embroidered with gold and sil- 
 ver, and in its sleek and ruddy faces, the signs of leisure 
 and abundance. 
 
 Considering these men more attentively, I found that the 
 great body was composed of farmers, artificers, merchants, 
 all professions useful to society ; and that the little group 
 was made up of priests of every order, of financiers, of 
 nobles, of men in livery, of commanders of armies ; in a 
 word, of the civil, military, and religious agents of gov- 
 ernment. 
 
 These two bodies being assembled face to face, and 
 regarding each other with astonishment, I saw indignation 
 and rage arising in one side, and a sort of panic in the 
 other. And the large body said to the little one : Why are 
 you separated from us? Are you not of our number? 
 
 No, replied the group ; you are the people ; we are a 
 privileged class, who have our laws, customs, and rights, 
 peculiar to ourselves. 
 
 PeoplB. — And what labor do you perform in our society? 
 
 Privileged Class. — None; we are not made to work. 
 
 People. — How, then, have you acquired these riches? 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 139 
 
 Privileged Class. — By taking tlie pains to govern you. 
 
 People. — What! is this what you call governing? We 
 toil and you enjoy ! we produce and you dissipate ! Wealth 
 proceeds from us, and you absorb it ! Privileged men ! 
 class who are not the people ; form a nation apart, and 
 govern yourselves.* 
 
 Then the little group, deliberating on this new state of 
 things, some of the most honorable among them said : We 
 must join the people and partake of their labors and bur- 
 dens, for they are men like us, and our riches come from 
 them ; but others arrogantly exclaimed : It would be a 
 shame, an infamy, for us to mingle with the crowd ; they 
 are born to serve us. Are we not men of another race — 
 the noble and pure descendants of the conquerors of this 
 empire? This multitude must be reminded of our rights 
 and its own origin. 
 
 The Nobles. — People ! know you not that our ancestors 
 conquered this land, and that your race was spared only on 
 condition of serving us? This is our social compact ! this 
 the government constituted by custom and prescribed by 
 time. 
 
 People. — O conquerors, pure of blood! show us your 
 genealogies ! we shall then see if what in an individual is 
 robbery and plunder, can be virtuous in a nation. 
 
 And forthwith, voices were heard in every quarter calling 
 out the nobles by their names ; and relating their origin 
 and parentage, they told how the grandfather, great-grand- 
 father, or even father, born traders and mechanics, after 
 acquiring wealth in every way, had purchased their nobility 
 for money : so that but very few families were really of the 
 
 'This dialogue between the people and the indolent classes, is 
 applicable to every society ; it contains the seeds of all the political 
 vices and disorders that prevail, and which may thus be defined : 
 Men who do nothing, and who devour the substance of others; and 
 men who arrogate to themselves particular rights and exclusive privi- 
 leges of wealth and indolence. Compare the Mamlouks of Egypt, 
 the nobiUty of Burope, the Nairs of India, the Emirs of Arabia, the 
 patricians of Rome, the beneficed clergy, the Imans, the Bramins, the 
 Bonzes, the Lamas, etc., etc., and you will find in all the same char- 
 acteristic feature — Men living in idleness at the expense of those who 
 labor. 
 9 
 
I30 VOLNEY 
 
 original stock. See, said these voices, see these purse-proud 
 commoners who deny their parents ! see these plebeian re- 
 cruits who look upon themselves as illustrious veterans ! 
 and peals of laughter were heard. 
 
 And the civil governors said : these people are mild, and 
 naturally servile ; speak to them of the king and of the law, 
 and they will return to their duty. People ! the king wills, 
 the sovereign ordains ! 
 
 Pbopi,b. — The king can will nothing but the good of 
 the people ; the sovereign can only ordain according to law. 
 
 Civil. Governors. — The law commands you to be sub- 
 missive. 
 
 Peopi,:^. — The law is the general will; and we will a 
 new order of things. 
 
 Civil, Governors. — You are then a rebel people. 
 
 People. — A nation cannot revolt ; tyrants only are 
 rebels. 
 
 Ciwi. Governors. — The king is on our side ; he com- 
 mands you to submit. 
 
 People. — Kings are inseparable from their nations. Our 
 king cannot be with you ; you possess only his phantom. 
 
 And the military governors came forward. The people 
 are timorous, said they ; we must threaten them ; they will 
 submit only to force. Soldiers, chastise this insolent mul- 
 titude. 
 
 People. — Soldiers, you are of our blood! Will you 
 strike your brothers, your relatives? If the people perish 
 who will nourish the army? 
 
 And the soldiers, grounding their arms, said to the chiefs : 
 "We are likewise the people ; show us the enemy ! 
 
 ******* 
 
 And the little group said : We are lost ! the mulitude are 
 enlightened. 
 
 And the people answered : You are safe ; since we are en- 
 lightened we will commit no violence ; we only claim our 
 rights. We feel resentments, but we will forget them. We 
 were slaves, we might command; but we only wish to be 
 free, and liberty is but justice. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 131 
 
 A FREE AND I^EGISIvATlVE PEOPI.E 
 
 CONSIDERING that all public power was now suspended, 
 and that the habitual restraint of the people had 
 suddenly ceased, I shuddered with the apprehension 
 that they would fall into the dissolution of anarchy. But, 
 taking their affairs into immediate deliberation, they said : 
 
 It is not enough that we have freed ourselves from ty- 
 rants and parasites ; we must prevent their return. We are 
 men, and experience has abundantly taught us that every 
 man is fond of power, and wishes to enjoy it at the ex- 
 pense of others. It is necessary, then, to guard against a 
 propensity which is the source of discord ; we must estab- 
 lish certain rules of duty and of right. But the knowledge 
 of our rights, and the estimation of our duties, are so ab- 
 stract and difficult as to require all the time and all the 
 faculties of a man. Occupied in our own affairs, we have 
 not leisure for these studies ; nor can we exercise these 
 functions in our own persons. I<et us choose, then, among 
 ourselves, such persons as are capable of this employment. 
 To them we will delegate our powers to institute our gov- 
 ernment and laws. They shall be the representatives of 
 our wills and of our interests. And in order to attain the 
 fairest representation possible of our wills and our inter- 
 ests, let it be numerous, and composed of men resembling 
 ourselves. 
 
 Having made the election of a numerous body of dele- 
 gates, the people thus addressed them : — 
 
 We have hitherto lived in a society formed by chance, 
 without fixed agreements, without free conventions, without 
 a stipulation of rights, without reciprocal engagements, — 
 and a multitude of disorders and evils have arisen from 
 this precarious state. We are now determined on forming 
 a regular compact ; and we have chosen you to adjust the 
 articles. Examine, then, with care what ought to be its 
 basis and its conditions ; consider what is the end and the 
 principles of every association ; recognize the rights which 
 every member brings, the powers which he delegates, and 
 
132 VOLNEY 
 
 those which he reserves to himself. Point out to us the 
 rules of conduct — the basis of just and equitable laws. 
 Prepare for us a new system of government ; for we real- 
 ize that the one which has hitherto guided us is corrupt. 
 Our fathers have wandered in the paths of ignorance, and 
 habit has taught us to follow in their footsteps. Every- 
 thing has been done by fraud, violence, and delusion ; and 
 the true laws of morality and reason are still obscure. 
 Clear up, then, their chaos ; trace out their connection ; 
 publish their code, and we will adopt it. 
 
 And the people raised a large throne, in the form of a 
 pyramid, and seating on it the men they had chosen, said 
 to them : — 
 
 We raise you to-day above us, that you may better dis- 
 cover the whole of our relations, and be above the reach of 
 our passions. But remember that you are our fellow- 
 citizens ; that the power we confer on you is our own ; 
 that we deposit it with you, but not as a property or a 
 heritage ; that you must be the first to obey the laws you 
 make ; that to-morrow you redescend among us, and that 
 you will have acquired no other right but that of our es- 
 teem and gratitude. And consider what a tribute of glory 
 the world, which reveres so many apostles of error, will 
 bestow on the first assembly of rational men, who shall 
 have declared the unchangeable principles of justice, and 
 consecrated, in the face of tyrants, the rights of nations. 
 
 UNIVERSAL BASIS OF AI,I, RIGHT AND AI,I, LAW 
 
 THB men chosen by the people to investigate the true 
 principles of morals and of reason then proceeded in 
 the sacred object of their mission ; and, after a long 
 examination, having discovered a fundamental and universal 
 principle, a legislator arose and said to the people : — 
 
 Here is the primordial basis, the physical origin of all 
 justice and of all right. 
 
 Whatever be the active power, the moving cause, that 
 governs the universe, since it has given to all men the 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 133 
 
 same organs, the same sensations, and the same wants, it 
 has thereby declared that it has given to all the same 
 right to the use of its treasures, and that all men are 
 equal in the order of nature. 
 
 And, since this power has given to each man the neces- 
 sary means of preserving his own existence, it is evident 
 that it has constituted them all independent one of an- 
 other ; that it has created them free ; that no one is subject 
 to another; that each one is absolute proprietor of his own 
 person. 
 
 Equality and liberty are, therefore, two essential at- 
 tributes of man, two laws of the Divinity, constitutional 
 and unchangeable, like the physical properties of matter. 
 
 Now, every individual being absolute master of his own 
 person, it follows that a full and free consent is a condition 
 indispensable to all contracts and all engagements. 
 
 Again, since each individual is equal to another, it fol- 
 lows that the balance of what is received and of what is 
 given, should be strictly in equilibrium; so that the idea 
 of justice, of equity, necessarily imports that of equality.* 
 
 Equality and liberty are therefore the physical and un- 
 alterable basis of every union of men in society, and of 
 course the necessary and generating principle of every law 
 and of every system of regular government, f 
 
 A disregard of this basis has introduced in your nation, 
 and in every other, those disorders which have finally 
 roused you. It is by returning to this rule that you may 
 reform them, and reorganize a happy order of society. 
 
 *The etymology of the words themselves trace out to us this con- 
 nection : equilibrium, equalitas, eguiias, are all of one family, and 
 the physical idea of equality, in the scales of a balance, is the source 
 and type of all the rest. 
 
 tin the Declaration of Rights, there is an inversion of ideas in 
 the first article, liberty being placed before equality, from which it in 
 reality springs. This defect is not to be wondered at ; the science of 
 the rights of man is a new science : it was invented yesterday by the 
 Americans, to-day the French are perfecting it, but there yet remains 
 a great deal to be done. In the ideas that constitute it there is a 
 genealogical order which, from its basis, physical equality, to the 
 minutest and most remote branches of government, ought to proceed 
 in an uninterrupted series of inferences. 
 
134 VOLNEY 
 
 But observe, this reorganization will occasion a violent 
 shock in your habits, your fortunes, and your prejudices. 
 Vicious contracts and abusive claims must be dissolved, 
 unjust distinctions and ill-founded property renounced ; you 
 must indeed recur for a moment to a state of nature. Con- 
 sider whether you can consent to so many sacrifices. 
 
 Then, reflecting on the cupidity inherent in the heart of 
 man, I thought that this people would renounce all ideas 
 of amelioration. 
 
 But, in a moment, a great number of men, advancing to- 
 ward the pyramid, made a solemn abjuration of all their 
 distinctions and all their riches. 
 
 Establish for us, said they, the laws of equality and 
 liberty; we will possess nothing in future but on the title 
 of justice. 
 
 Equality, liberty, justice, — these shall be our code, and 
 shall be written on our standards. 
 
 And the people immediately raised a great standard, in- 
 scribed with these three words, in three different colors. 
 They displayed it over the pyramid of the legislators, and 
 for the first time the flag of universal justice floated on 
 the face of the earth. 
 
 And the people raised before the pyramid a new altar, 
 on which they placed a golden balance, a sword, and a 
 book with this inscription : — 
 
 TO EQUAL LAW, WHICH JXJDGES AND PROTECTS. 
 
 And having surrounded the pyramid and the altar with 
 a vast amphitheatre, all the people took their seats to hear 
 the publication of the law. And millions of men, raising 
 at once their hands to heaven, took the solemn oath to 
 live equal, free, and just ; to respect their reciprocal proper- 
 ties and rights; to obey the law and its regularly chosen 
 representatives. 
 
 A spectacle so impressive and sublime, so replete with 
 generous emotions, moved me to tears ; and addressing my- 
 self to the Genius, I exclaimed : I<et me now live, for in 
 future I have everything to hope. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 
 
 135 
 
 CONSTKRNATION AND CONSPIRACY OF TYRANTS 
 
 BUT scarcely had the solemn voice of liberty and equality 
 resounded through the earth, when a movement of 
 confusion, of astonishment, arose in different nations. 
 On the one hand, the people, warmed with desire, but 
 wavering between hope and fear, between the sentiment of 
 right and the habit of obedience, began to be in motion. 
 The kings, on the other hand, suddenly awakened from the 
 sleep of indolence and despotism, were alarmed for the safety 
 of their thrones ; while, on all sides, those clans of civil 
 and religious tyrants, who deceive kings and oppress the 
 people, where seized with rage and consternation ; and, con- 
 certing their perfidious plans, they said : Woe to us, if 
 this fatal cry of liberty comes to the ears of the multi- 
 tude ! Woe to us, if this pernicious spirit of justice be 
 propagated ! 
 
 And, pointing to the floating banner, they continued : — 
 Consider what a swarm of evils are included in these three 
 words ! If all men are equal, where is our exclusive right 
 to honors and to power? If all men are to be free, what 
 becomes of our slaves, our vassals, our property ? If all 
 are equal in the civil state, where is our prerogative of 
 birth, of inheritance? and what becomes of nobility? If 
 they are all equal in the sight of God, what need of media- 
 tors? — where is the priesthood? I<et us hasten, then, to 
 destroy a germ so prolific, and so contagious. We must 
 employ all our cunning against this innovation. We must 
 frighten the kings, that they may join us in the cause. 
 We must divide the people by national jealousies, and oc- 
 cupy them with commotions, wars, and conquests. They 
 must be alarmed at the power of this free nation. I^et us 
 form a league against the common enemy, demolish that 
 sacrilegious standard, overturn that throne of rebellion, and 
 stifle in its birth the flame of revolution. 
 
 And, indeed, the civil and religious tyrants of nations 
 formed a general combination ; and, multiplying their fol- 
 lowers by force and seduction, they marched in hostile 
 
136 VOLNEY 
 
 array against the free nation ; and surrounding the altar 
 and the pyramid of natural law, they demanded with loud 
 cries : — = 
 
 What is this new and heretical doctrine? what this im- 
 pious altar, this sacrilegious worship ? True believers and 
 loyal subjects ! can you suppose that truth has been first 
 discovered to-day, and that hitherto you have been walking 
 in error ? that those men, more fortunate than you have the 
 sole privilege of wisdom? And you, rebel and mis- 
 guided nation, perceive you not that your new leaders are 
 misleading you? that they destroy the principles of your 
 faith, and overturn the religion of your ancestors? Ah, 
 tremble ! lest the wrath of heaven should kindle against 
 you; and hasten by speedy repentance to retrieve your 
 error. 
 
 But, inaccessible to seduction as well as to fear, the free 
 nation kept silence, and rising universally in arms, assumed 
 an imposing attitude. 
 
 And the legislator said to the chiefs of nations : — 
 
 If while we walked with a bandage on our eyes the light 
 ' guided our steps, why, since we are no longer blindfold, 
 should it fly from our search ? If guides, who teach man- 
 kind to see for themselves, mislead and deceive them, what 
 can be expected from those who profess to keep them in 
 ; darkness ? 
 
 But hark, ye leaders of nations ! If you possess the truth 
 show it to us, and we will receive it with gratitude, for 
 we seek it with ardor, and have a great interest in finding 
 it. We are men, and liable to be deceived ; but you are 
 also men, and equally fallible. Aid us then in this laby- 
 rinth, where the human race has wandered for so many 
 ages ; help us to dissipate the illusion of so many prejudices 
 and vicious habits. Amid the shock of so many opinions 
 which dispute for our acceptance, assist us in discovering 
 the proper and distinctive character of truth. Let us this 
 day terminate the long combat with error. I,et us estab- 
 lish between it and truth a solemn contest, to which we 
 will invite the opinions of men of all nations. I^et us con- 
 voke a general assembly of the nations. Let them be 
 judges in their own cause ; and in the debate of all systems, 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 137 
 
 let no champion, no argument, be wanting, either on the 
 side of prejudice or of reason ; and let the sentiment of a 
 general and common mass of 'evidence give birth to a uni- 
 versal concord of opinions and of hearts. 
 
 GKNERAL ASSEMBI^Y OF THE NATIONS 
 
 THUS spoke the legislator ; and the multitude, seized with 
 those emotions which a reasonable proposition always 
 inspires, expressed its applause ; while the tyrants, 
 left without support, were overwhelmed with confusion. 
 
 A scene of a new and astonishing nature then opened to 
 my view. All that the earth contains of people and of na- 
 tions ; men of every race and of every region, converging 
 from their various climates, seemed to assemble in one al- 
 lotted place; where, forming an immense congress, distin- 
 guished in groups by the vast variety of their dresses, 
 features, and complexion, the numberless multitude pre- 
 sented a most unusual and affecting sight. 
 
 On one side I saw the European, with his short close 
 coat, pointed triangular hat, smooth chin, and powdered 
 hair ; on the other side the Asiatic, with a flowing robe, 
 long beard, shaved head, and round turban. Here stood 
 the nations of Africa, with their ebony skins, their woolly 
 hair, their body girt with white and blue tissues of bark, 
 adorned with bracelets and necklaces of coral, shells, and 
 glass ; there the tribes of the north, enveloped in their 
 leathern bags ; the I/aplander, with his pointed bonnet and 
 his snow-shoes ; the Samoyede, with his feverish body and 
 strong odor ; the Tongouse, with his horned cap, and carry- 
 ing his idols pendant from his neck ; the Yakoute, with his 
 freckled face ; the Kalmuc, with his flat nose and little re- 
 torted eyes. Farther distant were the Chinese, attired in 
 silk, with their hair hanging in tresses ; the Japanese, of 
 mingled race ; the Malays, with wide-spreading ears, rings 
 in their noses, and palm-leaf hats of vast circumference ; 
 and the tatooed races of the isles of the southern ocean and 
 of the continent of the antipodes. The view of so many 
 varieties of the same species, of so many extravagant inven- 
 
138 VOLNEY 
 
 tions of the same understanding, and of so many modifica- 
 tions of the same organization, affected me with a thousand 
 feelings and a thousand thoughts.* I contemplated with 
 astonishment this gradation of color, which, passing from a 
 bright carnation to a light brown, a deeper brown, dusky, 
 bronze, olive, leaden, copper, ends in the black of ebony 
 and of jet. And finding the Cassimerian, with his rosy 
 cheek, next to the sun-burnt Hindoo, and the Georgian by 
 the side of the Tartar, I reflected on the effects of climate 
 hot or cold, of soil high or low, marshy or dry, open or 
 shaded. I compared the dwarf of the pole with the giant 
 of the temperate zones, the slender body of the Arab with 
 the ample chest of the Hollander; the squat figure of the 
 Samoyede with the elegant form of the Greek and the 
 Sclavonian ; the greasy black wool of the Negro with 
 the bright silken locks of the Dane ; the broad face of the 
 Kalmuc, his little angular eyes and flattened nose, with the 
 oval prominent visage, large blue eyes, and aquiline nose 
 of the Circassian and Abazan. I contrasted the brilliant 
 calicoes of the Indian, the well-wrought stuffs of the Euro- 
 pean, the rich furs of the Siberian, with the tissues of bark, 
 of osiers, leaves, and feathers of savage nations ; and the 
 blue figures of serpents, flowers, and stars, with which they 
 painted their bodies. Sometimes the variegated appearance 
 of this multitude reminded me of the enamelled meadows 
 of the Nile and the Euphrates, when, after rains or inun- 
 dations, millions of flowers are rising on every side. Some- 
 times their murmurs and their motions called to mind the 
 
 *A hall of costumes in one of the galleries of the Louvre would, 
 in every point of view, be an interesting establishment. It would 
 furnish an admirable treat to the curiosity of a great number of per- 
 sons, excellent models to the artist, and useful subjects of meditation 
 to the physician, the philosopher, and the legislator. 
 
 Picture to yourself a collection of the various faces and figures of 
 every country and nation, exhibiting accurately, color, features, and 
 form ; what a field for investigation and inquiry as to the influence of 
 climate, customs, food, etc. It might truly be called the science of 
 man ! Buiion has attempted a chapter of this nature, but it only 
 serves to exhibit more strikingly our actual ignorance. Such a col- 
 lection is said to have been begun at St. Petersburg, but it is also said 
 at the same time to be as imperfect as the vocabulary of the three hun- 
 dred languages. The enterprise would be worthy of the French nation. 
 
THE RUINS OF EMPIRES 139 
 
 numberless swarms of locusts which, issuing from the des- 
 ert, cover in the spring the plains of Hauran. 
 
 At the sight of so many rational beings, considering on 
 the one hand the immensity of thoughts and sensa- 
 tions assembled in this place, and on the other hand, re- 
 flecting on the opposition of so many opinions, and the shock 
 of so many passions of men so capricious, I struggled between 
 astonishment, admiration, and secret dread — when the legis- 
 lator commanded silence, and attracted all my attention. 
 
 Inhabitants of earth ! a free and powerful nation ad- 
 dresses you with words of justice and peace, and she offers 
 you the sure pledges of her intentions in her own convic- 
 tion and experience. I^ong afflicted with the same evils as 
 yourselves, we sought for their source, and found them all 
 derived from violence and injustice, erected into law by the 
 inexperience of past ages, and maintained by the prejudices 
 of the present. Then abolishing our artificial and arbitrary 
 institutions, and recurring to the origin of all right and 
 reason, we have found that there existed in the very order 
 of nature and in the physical constitution of man, eternal 
 and immutable laws, which only waited his observance to 
 render him happy. 
 
 O men ! cast your eyes on the heavens that give you 
 light, and on the earth that gives you bread ! Since they 
 offer the same bounties to you all — since from the power 
 that gives them motion you have all received the same life, 
 the same organs, have you not likewise all received the 
 same right to enjoy its benefits? Has it not hereby de- 
 clared you all equal and free? What mortal shall dare re- 
 fuse to his fellow that which nature gives him ? 
 
 O nations ! let us banish all tyranny and all discord ; let 
 us form but one society, one great family ; and, since hu- 
 man nature has but one constitution, let there exist in 
 future but one law, that of nature — but one code, that of 
 reason — but one throne, that of justice — but one altar, 
 that of union. 
 
 He ceased ; and an immense acclamation resounded to the 
 skies. Ten thousand benedictions announced the transports 
 of the multitude ; and they made the earth re-echo justice, 
 EQUALITY, and union. 
 
I40 VOLNEY 
 
 But different emotions soon succeeded ; soon the doctors 
 and the chiefs of nations exciting a spirit of dispute, there 
 was heard a sullen murmur, which growing louder, and 
 spreading from group to group, became a vast disorder; 
 and each nation setting up exclusive pretensions, claimed a 
 preference for its own code and opinion. 
 
 You are in error, said the parties, pointing one to the 
 other. We alone are in possession of reason and truth. 
 We alone have the true law, the real rule of right and 
 justice, the only means of happiness and perfection. All 
 other men are either blind or rebellious. 
 
 And great agitation prevailed. 
 
 Then the legislator, after enforcing silence, loudly ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 What, O people ! is this passionate emotion ? Whither 
 will this quarrel conduct you? What can you expect from 
 this dissension ? The earth has been for ages a field of 
 disputation, and you have shed torrents of blood in your 
 controversies, What have you gained by so many battles 
 and tears? When the strong has subjected the weak to 
 his opinion, has he thereby aided the cause of truth? 
 
 O nations ! take counsel of your own wisdom. When 
 among yourselves disputes arise between families and indi- 
 viduals, how do you reconcile them? Do you not give 
 them arbitrators? 
 
 Yes, cried the whole multitude. 
 
 Do so then to the authors of your present dissensions. 
 Order those who call themselves your instructors, and who 
 force their creeds upon you, to discuss before you their 
 reasons. Since they appeal to your interests, inform your- 
 selves how they support them. 
 
 And you, chiefs and governors of the people ! before 
 dragging the masses into the quarrels resulting from your 
 diverse opinions, let the reasons for and against your views 
 be given. I^et us establish one solemn controversy, one 
 public scrutiny of truth — not before the tribunal of a cor- 
 ruptible individual, or of a prejudiced party, but in the 
 grand forum of mankind — guarded by all their information 
 and all their interests. l,et the natural sense of the 
 whole human race be our arbiter and judge. 
 
MfeRIMEE 
 
 Letters to Anonyma 
 
PROSPER MtRlUtlS, 
 
 PROSPBR M:gRiMfiB! was born in Paris in 1803 and died 
 in 1870. Though a writer of exceptional gifts and 
 range, he will perhaps be best known to posterity by 
 his Lettres ci Une Inconnue, only published after the 
 author's death. He knew the languages and literatures of 
 England, Spain, Italy, Germany, and Russia, besides the 
 classics, and was an enthusiastic archaeologist. In early life 
 he published translations of plays, and original works in 
 history and fiction. His novel "Columba" is still popu- 
 lar. He became an Academician in 1844 and a Senator in 
 1853. He had cultivated an austere manner which mysti- 
 fied his friends. They believed him incapable of any ten- 
 der emotion. A cynic of cynics, he was supposed to be a 
 stranger to love. The greater, therefore, was the surprise 
 when these "lyCtters" revealed Merimee as the clandestine 
 lover, not the slave of love, indeed, but still entangled in 
 its web, which he did not seriously try to break. Who 
 the Anonyma was we do not know, nor does it matter. 
 Whether a French or English woman, her power is con- 
 fessed in these strangest of genuine love letters. They 
 sparkle with wit and a hundred charms not commonly 
 found in epistles acceptable to the average feminine heart 
 as substitutes for the poetical. The correspondence lasted 
 from 1842 until 1870. 
 
 (143) 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 
 
 PARIS, Thursday. — Everything about you is mysterious; 
 and the causes inducing in others a certain line of 
 conduct, impel you always to opposite action. I am 
 becoming accustomed to your ways, and nothing any longer 
 surprises me. Spare me, I beg of you ; do not put to too 
 harsh a test the unfortunate habit I have contracted of 
 finding good in all that you do. I was perhaps a little too 
 frank in my last letter, in speaking of my character. An 
 old diplomatist, a shrewd man of the world, has often ad- 
 vised me, " Never say any ill of yourself ; your dear friends 
 will say quite enough." Do not, however, take literally my 
 self -depreciation ; believe, rather, that my chief virtue is 
 modesty, which I carry to excess, and I tremble lest it in- 
 jure me in your estimation. I may at another time, when 
 inspired, supply you with an exact catalogue of my quali- 
 ties; for the list will be long, and being to-day slightly in- 
 disposed I dare not project myself into this " progression of 
 the infinite." You cannot guess where I was on Saturday 
 evening, and in what engaged at midnight. I was on the 
 platform of one of the towers of Notre Dame, drinking 
 orangeade and eating ices in the society of four friends and 
 a magnificent moon, with the accompaniment of a great owl 
 flapping his wings. Paris at this hour, and by moonlight, 
 is a superb spectacle, resembling a city of the " Thousand 
 and One Nights," the inhabitants of which have been en- 
 chanted during their sleep ; but Parisians usually go to bed at 
 midnight, and are most stupid in so doing. Our party was 
 a curious one, four nations being represented, each of us 
 with a different way of thinking ; but the bore of it was, 
 that some of us, inspired by the moon and the owl, thought 
 it necessary to assume a poetic tone and indulge in plati- 
 tudes — in fact, little by little every one began to utter 
 nonsense. 
 
 lo (145) 
 
146 MERIMEE 
 
 I do not know by what chain of ideas this semi-poetic 
 evening leads me to think of one that was not in the least 
 so ; a ball given by some young men, to which all the opera 
 dancers were invited. These women are usually very stupid ; 
 but I have observed how superior they are in moral deli- 
 cacy to the men of their class. Only one vice separates 
 them from other women — that of poverty. 
 
 Paris. — Frankness and truth toward women are not de- 
 sirable — indeed quite the reverse; for see, you regard me 
 as a Sardanapalus because I have been to a ball of figur- 
 antes. You reproach me as for a crime, and reprove as a 
 still greater crime my praise of these poor girls. Make 
 them rich, I repeat, and only their good qualities will re- 
 main ; but insurmountable barriers have been raised by the 
 aristocracy between the different classes of society, so that 
 few persons understand how entirely what passes beyond 
 the wall resembles what passes within. I will tell you a 
 story that I heard in this perverse society. In the Rue 
 Saint Honor^ lived a poor woman who never left her mis- 
 erable attic, and who had a little girl twelve years old, neat, 
 reserved, well behaved, who never spoke to any one. Three 
 times a week this child left home in the afternoon, return- 
 ing alone at midnight, being a supernumerary at the opera. 
 One night she came down to ask for a lighted candle, which 
 being given to her, the porter's wife followed her after a 
 while to the garret, where she found the woman dead on 
 her wretched pallet, and the child occupied in burning a 
 quantity of letters which she drew from a battered trunk. 
 She said, " My mother died to-night, and charged me to 
 burn these papers without reading them." The child knows 
 the name neither of father nor mother, is entirely alone in 
 the world, having no other resource than that of personat- 
 ing monkeys, vultures and devils on the stage. Her 
 mother's last counsel to her was, to remain & figurante smA 
 to be very good ; which she certainly is, even very pious, 
 and does not care to relate her history. Will you be good 
 enough to tell me if there is not infinitely greater merit in 
 this child leading such a life, than belongs to you who en- 
 joy the singular happiness of irreproachable surroundings, 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 147 
 
 and are endowed with a nature so refined as to picture for 
 me, in a measure, the bloom of civilization? I will tell 
 you the truth. I can only endure low society at rare in- 
 tervals, and through an inexhaustible curiosity respecting 
 all varieties of the human species, seldom entering that of 
 men, there being to me something inexpressibly repulsive 
 in it, especially with us ; but in Spain, muleteers and bull- 
 fighters were my friends. I have more than once eaten 
 from the platter of people at whom an Englishman would 
 not look for fear of compromising his self-respect ; and I 
 have even drunk from the same leathern bottle with a gal- 
 ley-slave ; there was, however, but one bottle, and one 
 must drink when thirsty. Do not believe that I have a 
 predilection for the canaille. I simply like to study differ- 
 ent manners, different faces, and to hear a different lan- 
 guage. Ideas are the same everywhere, and aside from the 
 merely conventional, I do not find good breeding limited 
 to the Faubourg Saint-Germain. All this is Arabic to you, 
 and I know not why I say it. My mother has been very 
 ill, exciting in me great uneasiness, but is now out of 
 danger, and will be in a few days entirely restored to 
 health. I cannot endure anxiety, and during the period of 
 danger I have been in a state of distraction. (i. 
 
 As a rule, never select a woman for a confidante ; soon 
 or late you would repent of it. Learn also, that there is 
 nothing more common than to do evil for the very pleas- 
 ure of it. Shake off your ideas of optimism, and be con- 
 vinced that we are in this world simply to fight against 
 each other. In this connection, I remember that a learned 
 friend who reads hieroglyphics told me that on the Egyp- 
 tian sarcophagi are often engraved these two words : life, 
 WAR ; which proves that I did not originate the maxim 
 just given you. The characters are represented by one of 
 those vases called canopes, and a shield with an arm hold- 
 ing a lance. 
 
 Paris. — Your reproaches afford me great pleasure. As 
 to your over-moral relative who says so much evil of me, 
 he recalls Thwackum, who asks : Can any virtue; exist 
 WITHOUT RELIGION ? Have you read '•'■ Tom Jones, " a book 
 
148 m£rim£;e 
 
 as immoral as all of mine put together? If it was prohib- 
 ited, of course you read it. What a droll education you 
 receive in England ! And what avails it ! Breath is wasted 
 for years in preaching to a young girl, with the certain result 
 that she will desire to know precisely that immoral per- 
 son for whom it was hoped to inspire her with a holy 
 aversion. What an admirable story is that of the serpent ! 
 
 All that I know of you pleases me prodigiously. I study 
 you with ardent curiosity. I have certain theories respect- 
 ing the veriest trifles, — gloves, boots, buckles, to which I 
 attach much importance, having discovered that a certain 
 relation exists between the character of women and the 
 caprice, — or rather, the connection of ideas and the ratioc- 
 ination, — that dictates the choice of such or such stuffs. 
 I could show, for instance, that a woman who wears blue 
 gowns is a coquette and affects sentiment. 
 
 I went the other day on a boating excursion, a number 
 of sailing vessels being on the river, in one of which were 
 several women of a vulgar class. As the vessels reached 
 the shore, from one of them stepped a man about forty 
 years of age who was persistently beating a drum for his 
 own amusement ; and while I was admiring the musical 
 organization of this animal a young woman approached 
 him, called him a monster, saying that she had followed 
 him from Paris, and if he declined to admit her to his so- 
 ciety he should dearly rue it. The man continued to pound 
 his drum vigorously during this appeal, replying phlegmat- 
 ically that he would not have her in his boat, whereupon 
 she ran to the vessel moored farthest from the shore and 
 within twenty feet of our own, and sprang into the river, 
 splashing us infamously ; but although she had put out my 
 cigar my indignation did not hinder me, aided by my 
 friends, from dragging her out before she had swallowed 
 two glasses of the muddy water. The noble object of such 
 despair had not budged, and grumbled between his teeth : 
 " Why did you pull her out if she wished to drown her- 
 self ? " Why is it that these cold, indifferent men are the 
 most beloved? I asked myself this question as we sailed 
 home; I ask it still, and I beg you to tell me if you 
 know. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 149 
 
 Paris. — Mariquita de mi alma — it is thus I should begin 
 were we at Granada. I believe, notwithstanding my anger, 
 that I love you better in your fits of pouting than I do in 
 any other mood. One sentence of your letter made me 
 laugh like one of the blessed. Without hostile prelimina- 
 ries for the blow, you tell me short and swebt : " My 
 love is promised." You say that you are engaged for life 
 as if it were simply for a quadrille ! Very good ! My time, 
 it seems, has been profitably employed in discussing love, 
 marriage, and the rest of it ! You still say and believe, that 
 when told to "love Monsieur," you at once love. Has 
 your engagement been signed before a notary? When I 
 was a school-boy I received a love-letter with two flaming 
 hearts pierced with a dart, from a seamstress, which pre- 
 cious effusion was captured by the school-master, and I locked 
 up ; and, as a denouement of the drama, the object of this 
 budding passion consoled herself with the cruel school- 
 master. Kngagements are fatal to the happiness of those 
 who subscribe to them. It is a primal law of nature to 
 hold in aversion whatever savors of the obligatory. All 
 bonds are inherently irksome ; and if so trammeled, I 
 seriously believe that you would love mb ; me, to whom 
 you have promised nothing. 
 
 To me you appear very devout, superstitious even. This 
 reminds me of a pretty little girl from Granada, who when 
 mounting her mule to cross the Ronda Pass, a route famous 
 for robbers, devoutly kissed her thumb and struck her 
 breast three times, assured by this pious action that the 
 robbers would not dare to show themselves, provided 
 that the Ingles — that is myself; with these people all 
 travelers are English — would not swear by the Blessed 
 Virgin and the saints : but only this wicked mode of speech 
 will make these horses move among such roads. See 
 "Tristram Shandy." You are weak and jealous, two qual- 
 ities not objectionable in a woman, but defects in a man, 
 and I possess them both. I^et us cease quarreling and be 
 friends. I kiss the hand that you offer me in pledge of peace. 
 
 September. — You allude to special reasons that prevent 
 you from seeking to be with me. I respect secrets and 
 
ISO MERIMEE 
 
 will not pry into your motives. Some kind busybody may 
 have taken me for the text of a sermon that sways you ; 
 nevertheless, in fearing me you would be doing me an in- 
 finite wrong. Be reassured I shall never be in love with 
 you ; I am now too old and have been , too unhappy. I 
 once felt myself falling in love and fled to Spain, one of 
 the finest actions of my life, the cause of the journey never 
 being suspected by the lady. To remain, would have been 
 to commit a great folly — that of offering to a woman in 
 exchange for all that was dear to her, a tenderness that I 
 was conscious of being inadequate to the sacrifice I should 
 have tempted her to make. " lyove excuses all, but we 
 must be quite sure that it is love ; " and this precept, be 
 assured, is more inflexible than those of your Methodistical 
 friends. In me you will acquire a true friend, while I may 
 find a woman with whom I am not in love and in whom I 
 can confide. Should I die this year, you will feel regret 
 at having hardly known me. 
 
 The remembrance of your splendid black eyes is no in- 
 considerable element of my admiration for you. I am old, 
 and nearly insensible to beauty, yet on hearing a fastidious 
 man say that you are very handsome I cotild not repress a 
 feeling of sadness, and for this reason : that I am horribly 
 jealous (I am not the least in love with you) of my 
 friends, and distressed at the thought that your beauty ex- 
 poses you to the attentions of men who only appreciate in 
 you that which attracts me the least. The truth is, I am in 
 a frightful humor ; nothing makes me so melancholy as a 
 marriage. The Turks who buy a woman after examining 
 her like a fat sheep, are more honest than we who cover 
 our shameful bargain with the transparent varnish of 
 hypocrisy. I have often asked myself what I could say to 
 my wife on my wedding day, and have found nothing pos- 
 sible unless it be a compliment to her nightcap. The devil 
 would be very cunning to entrap me to such a fite. The 
 woman's r61e is easier than that of the man. On that day 
 she models herself after the Iphigenia of Racine ; but if 
 she observe at all keenly, what droll things she must see ! 
 Of course at this fite love will be made to you, and you 
 will be regaled with allusions to domestic happiness. When 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 151 
 
 angry, the Andalusians say : « I would stab the sun but 
 for the fear of leaving the world in darkness." 
 
 You jest in saying so charmingly that you are afraid of 
 me. You know that I am ugly, capricious in temper, 
 always abstracted, and often tormenting when suffering. 
 Do you not find all this reassuring ? You are no python- 
 ess ; you will never be in love with me. You are a com- 
 bination of the angel and the devil, but the latter predomi- 
 nates. You call me a tempter ! Dare to say that this 
 word does not apply more strongly to yourself ! Have you 
 not thrown a bait to me, poor little fish that I am? And 
 holding me at the end of your line you keep me dancing 
 between heaven and earth, until weary of the sport it may 
 please you to cut me loose, and I shall swim about with 
 the hook in my gills, but never again to find the angler. 
 Adieu, nina de mi ojos. 
 
 I^ady M announced to me yesterday that you are 
 
 going to be married. This being so, bum my letters : I 
 burn yours, and adieu. You know my principle that does 
 not permit me to maintain an intimacy with a married 
 woman whom I have known as demoiselle, with a widow 
 whom I have known as wife. The change in a woman's 
 legal status affects also her various social relations, and 
 always for the worse. In a word, I cannot bear my female 
 friends to marry, therefore, should you marry, let us for- 
 get each other. I still love you and commend myself to 
 your prayers. 
 
 Paris. — We are becoming very tender. You say to me, 
 Amiga de mi alma, which is very pretty on a woman's lips. 
 It is needless to say that the answer to my question has 
 greatly pleased me. You say, perhaps involuntarily, to my 
 delight, that the husband of a woman who should resemble 
 you would inspire you with true compassion. I believe 
 this readily, and I add that no one would be more un- 
 happy, unless it be the man who should love you. 
 You must be cold and mocking in your fits of ill humor, 
 with an invincible pride that prevents you from saying, *I 
 am in the wrong." Add to this an energy of character 
 causing you to despise complaints and tears. When by the 
 
152 MERIMEE 
 
 lapse of time and force of events we shall become friends, 
 it will be seen which of the two can more skillfully tor- 
 ment the other. The mere thought of it makes my hair 
 stand on end. Cannot we meet without mystery and as 
 good friends? I am ill and terribly weary. Come to Paris, 
 dear Mariquita, and excite my love anew. I shall never 
 be weary then. 
 
 Paris. — What is your malady ? Some heart sorrow ? 
 Some mysterious phrases of yours v/ould seem to imply as 
 much. You both sufEer and enjoy through the head, but 
 entre nous, I do not believe that you are yet in the enjoy- 
 ment of that viscus {visdre) called heart, which is only 
 developed toward twenty-five years of age, in the forty- 
 sixth degree of latitude. Now you are knitting your beau- 
 tiful black eyebrows and saying : " The insolent fellow, 
 to doubt that I have a heart ! " This is, indeed, the great 
 pretension of the day ; since the manufacture of such num- 
 bers of so-called passionate romances and poems, all women 
 pretend to have a heart. Wait yet a while ; when you 
 have a heart in earnest, send me the tidings. You will 
 then regret the happy time in which you only lived by 
 the head, and the ills you now suffer will seem only pin- 
 pricks in comparison with the stabs that will rain upon 
 you with the birth of passion. Your gracious promise to 
 give me your portrait is a double pleasure, as a proof of 
 your increased confidence in me. I am thinking at this 
 moment of the expression of your countenance, which is a 
 little hard : a lioness, Though tamb. I kiss your mys- 
 terious feet a thousand times. Adieu. 
 
 lyONDON, December. — Tell me, in the name of God, if 
 you be of God, querida Mariquita, why have you- not an- 
 swered my letter? Your last one put me into such a flut- 
 ter that my reply, on the impulse of the moment, was 
 hardly common sense. Why will you not see me? Your 
 chief motive appears to be the dread of doing something 
 IMPROPER, as they say here. I do not accept as serious 
 your fear that a more intimate knowledge of me may de- 
 stroy your illusions. Were this indeed your motive, you 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 153 
 
 would be the first woman, the first human being even, the 
 gratification of whose desires or curiosity had been hindered 
 by a similar consideration. The thing can be impropbr 
 only as regards society. You know in advance that I shall 
 not eat you. Note in passing, that this word socibty 
 makes us unhappy from the moment of donning inconve- 
 nient garments at its behests, until the day of our death. A 
 man's discretion, and mine exceptionally, is the greater in 
 proportion that it is trusted. There is, and there will be 
 throughout your life, a conflict between your intuitions 
 and your conventual discipline ; thence arises the whole 
 difficulty. 
 
 The sea always makes me excessively ill, and the glad 
 WATERS OF THE DARK Bi<uE SEA are Only agreeable to me 
 when seen from the shore ; after my first voyage to Eng- 
 land it required a fortnight to restore my usual color, that 
 of the pale horse of the Apocalypse. One day at dinner I 
 was seated opposite to Madame V , who suddenly ex- 
 claimed, " Until to-day I thought you were an Indian ! " 
 
 Paris, March, 1842. — Since you do not refuse my gifts, 
 I send you conserves of rose, bergamot, and jasmine. I 
 offered you Turkish slippers, but have been plundered. 
 Will you have this Turkish mirror in exchange? It may 
 be more acceptable, for you strike me as being even more 
 COQUETTE than in the year of grace 1840. It was in De- 
 cember, and you wore ribbed silk stockings. 
 
 You are now rich — rich, that is to say free. A capital 
 idea this of your friend, who is another Auld Robin Gray. 
 He must have been in love with you, which you will never 
 confess, for you too dearly love mystery. Why not go to 
 Rome and Naples to see the sun ? You are worthy of com- 
 prehending Italy, and would return richer in ideas and 
 sensations. I do not advise Greece ; your skin is not suf- 
 ficiently tough to resist all the villainous insects that de- 
 vour one in that classic land. Speaking of Greece, I send 
 you a blade of grass gathered on the hill of Anthela at 
 Thermopylae, on the spot where fell the last of the "three 
 hundred." It is not improbable that particles of the dead 
 Leonidas mingle with the constituent atoms of this little 
 
154 
 
 MERIMEE 
 
 flower. It was, I remember, at this very spot, while ly- 
 ing on heaped-up straw and talking to my friend Amp&re, 
 that I told him that among the tender memories re- 
 maining to me there was only one unmixed with bitter- 
 ness. I thought of our beautiful youth. Pray kbbp my 
 
 FOOLISH FI^OWER. 
 
 I revisited my dear Spain in 1840, passing two months 
 at Madrid where I saw a droll revolution, admirable bull- 
 fights, and the triumphal entry of Espartero, the most 
 comical show possible. I stayed at the country-house of a 
 friend, who in her devotion to me is a sister, and went 
 every morning to Madrid, returning to dine with six charm- 
 ing women, of whom the eldest was thirty-six years old. 
 Owing to the revolution I was the only man permitted to 
 go and come freely, so these six unfortunates had no other 
 cortejo. They spoiled me prodigiously. I was not in love 
 with any of them, in which perhaps I was wrong ; and 
 though not deceived by these privileges conferred by the 
 revolution, I found it very sweet to be Sultan, even ad 
 honores. On my return I indulged in the innocent pleasure 
 of having a book printed, not published, magnificent in 
 binding and engravings. I would offer you this rarity, but 
 it is historic and pedantic, and so bristling with Greek, 
 Latin, and even Osque (do you know in the least what 
 Osque is ? ) , as to be beyond your mark. Last summer, find- 
 ing myself with money in my pocket, I roved between 
 Malta, Athens, and Constantinople for five months, during 
 which there were not five tedious minutes. I saw the Sul- 
 tan in varnished boots and a black frock coat, afterward, 
 covered with diamonds, in the procession of Bairam ; on 
 which occasion a very handsome dame, on whose slipper 
 I trod inadvertently, gave me a tremendous blow with 
 her fist, calling me a giaour, and this was my sole asso- 
 ciation with Turkish beauties. At Athens and in Asia 
 I saw the finest monuments in the world, and the love- 
 liest landscapes. The drawback consisted in fleas, and 
 gnats the size of larks. With all this I have grown very 
 old. My firman gives me turtle-dove hair, which is a 
 pretty Oriental metaphor for expressing an ugly truth. 
 Imagine your friend quite gray ! Your claim to rival Ionic 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 155 
 
 and Corinthian capitals in my heart, made me laugh. In 
 the first place, I like only the Doric, and there are no 
 capitals, not even those of the Parthenon, which are worth 
 to me the memory of a friendship. 
 
 Paris, May, 1842. — If I must be frank, and you know 
 that I cannot correct myself of this defect, I will confess 
 that you struck me as much improved physically, not at 
 all so morally ; that you have a very fine complexion, and 
 beautiful hair which I looked at more than your cap, 
 which probably was worthy of admiration, as you seem 
 to be provoked that I did not appreciate it ; but I have 
 never been able to distinguish lace from calico. You 
 have still the figure of a sylph, and though rather blas6 
 as to black eyes, I never saw finer ones at Constantinople 
 nor at Smyrna. 
 
 Now for the reverse of the medal. You have continued 
 a child in many things, and have acquired into the bargain 
 a nice little dash of selfishness and hj'pocrisy, which may 
 be serviceable, only it is nothing of which one need boast. 
 You do not know how to conceal your first impulses, but 
 think to make amends by a host of puerile evasions. What 
 do you gain by it? Remember Jonathan Swift's fine 
 maxim : A LIB IS TOO GOOD A Thing to bs wasted. 
 This magnanimous idea of being hard to yourself, will, as- 
 suredly, lead you very far, and a few years hence you will 
 find yourself as happy as the Trappist, who, after having 
 perseveringly scourged himself should one day discover that 
 there is no Paradise. It is your Satanic pride that has 
 hindered you from seeing me. You believe, at least, that 
 you have pride, but it is only a petty vanity well worthy 
 of a devotee. The fashion of the day tends to sermons — 
 do you frequent them ? This alone is lacking in you ! As 
 respects myself, I am not more of a hypocrite, in which 
 perhaps I am wrong : certain it is that I am not therefore 
 the better liked. Ah ! great news ! The first Academician 
 out of the forty who shall die will be the cause of my 
 paying thirty-nine visits. I shall pay them as awkwardly 
 as possible, and shall gain thirty-nine enemies. It would 
 
IS6 MERIMfeE 
 
 be tedious to explain to you this 'fit of ambition. Sufi&ce 
 it that the Academy is now my blue cashmere. Be happy, 
 but remember this maxim : Never to commit other follies 
 than those agreeable to you. Perhaps you, prefer M. de 
 Talleyrand's apothegm, that one must guard against good 
 impulses, because they are nearly always honest. 
 
 Paris, June, 1842. — I have received your purse, which 
 exhales a charmingly aristocratic perfume, and if embroid- 
 ered by yourself does you honor ; in it also I recognize 
 your recent taste for the positive. It would have been 
 poetical to value it at one or two stars ; and I shotdd prize 
 it even more had you deigned to add to it some lines from 
 your white hands. No, I will not accept your pheasants 
 which you offer in a detestable way, saying, moreover, dis- 
 agreeable things about my Turkish sweetmeats. It is you 
 who have the palate of a giaour in not appreciating the 
 food of houris. Your conscience, I am sure, is often less 
 lenient than I, whom you accuse of hardness and indiffer- 
 ence. The hypocrisy that you now cleverly practice, merely 
 as a game, will, in the end, play you a trick — that of be- 
 coming a reality. As to coquetry, the inseparable companion 
 of the deplorable vice that you affect, you have long been 
 duly convicted of it, and it became you when tempered by 
 frankness, by heart and imagination. Is it your friendship 
 that you designate as an essence? a word I like. Since 
 all that you wish for comes to pass, I humbly pray you to 
 intercede with Destiny that I may be an Academician ; but 
 the plague must supervene among these gentlemen to favor 
 my chances, to improve which I must also borrow a little 
 of your talent for hypocrisy. I am too old to reform, and 
 in making the effort I should perhaps become even worse 
 than I am. Formerly I had no high opinion of my pre- 
 cious self, but my self-esteem has increased, simply because 
 the world has degenerated. I pass my evenings in re-read- 
 ing my books which are being republished, and find myself 
 very immoral and sometimes stupid. The question now is 
 to diminish the immorality and stupidity with the least 
 trouble ; but at the cost of bi,ue dbvii,s to myself. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 157 
 
 Chai,on-stjr-Saone, June, 1842. — Thanks for your pray- 
 ers, if they are not a mere rhetorical figure. I am aware 
 of your devoutness, which is now the fashion, like blue 
 cashmeres. Our French devotion displeases me, being a 
 species of shallow philosophy proceeding from the head 
 and not the heart. When you have seen the Italians you 
 will agree with me that their devotion is alone genuine: 
 only one cannot have it at will, and one must be born be- 
 yond the Alps or Pyrenees to possess such faith. You 
 cannot imagine the disgust with which our present society 
 inspires me, and one would say that it had sought by 
 every possible combination to augment the mass of ennui 
 apparently necessary in the order of the world ; while in 
 Italy everything tends to render existence easy and en- 
 durable. 
 
 Avignon, July, 1842. — Since you assume this tone ma 
 foi, I yield. Give me brown bread, which is better than 
 none at all, only permit me to say that it is brown, and 
 write to me again. You see that I am humble and sub- 
 missive. The figure of rhetoric of which you believe your- 
 self to be the inventor has been long in use, and might be 
 clothed with an uncouth Greek name, but in French it is 
 known under the less lofty term of lying. Make use of it 
 with me as little as possible, and do not lavish it on 
 others : it must be kept for great occasions. Do not seek 
 to find the world foolish and ridiculous ; it is only too 
 much so in reality. It is better to cherish illusions, and I 
 hold several which are perhaps rather transparent, but I 
 exert myself to retain them. I am sorry that you read 
 Homer in Pope, and recommend as preferable Dugas-Mont- 
 bel's translation, which is the only readable one. If you 
 had the courage to brave ridicule and the time to spare, 
 you would read Planch^' s "Greek Grammar" a month to 
 make you sleep, which would not fail of this effect ; at 
 the end of two months you would amuse yourself by com- 
 paring M. Montbel's translation with the Greek ; and two 
 months afterward you would easily perceive from the am- 
 biguity of phrase, that the Greek has a meaning other 
 than that given by the translator. At the end of a year 
 
158 MERIMEE 
 
 you would read Homer as you do a melody and the ac- 
 companiment ; the melody being the Greek, the accompani- 
 ment the translation. It is possible that this would incite 
 the wish to study Greek in earnest ; but such assiduity is 
 also to presuppose you with neither dresses to occupy you, 
 nor people to whom they may be displayed. Everything 
 in Homer is remarkable. His epithets, so seemingly 
 strange in French, are singularly appropriate. I remember 
 that he calls the sea "purple," and I never understood its 
 application until last year. I was in a little caique on the 
 Gulf of lycpanto, going to Delphi. The sun was setting, 
 and as it disappeared the sea wore for ten minutes a mag- 
 nificent tint of dark violet — but this requires the air, the 
 sea, the sun of Greece. I hope that you will never become 
 sufficiently an artist to discover that Homer was a great 
 painter. I hope that you find me this time passably re- 
 signed and decorous, Signora Fornarina! 
 
 Paris, August, 1842. — I congratulate you on your Greek 
 studies, and to begin with something that may interest you 
 will tell you the word by which in Greek persons possess- 
 ing like yourself hair of which they are justly proud are 
 described : efplokamos. Ef, much ; plokamos, curl. Homer, 
 somewhere says : — 
 
 '■'■Nimfi e/plokamouga Calypsoy 
 (Curly-tressed nymph Calypso.) 
 
 I am sorry that you should set out so late in the season 
 for Italy, which you will see only through atrocious rains 
 that obscure half the charm of the loveliest mountains in 
 the world, and you will be obliged to accept on faith my 
 eulogies on the exquisite skies of Naples. Moreover, you 
 will have no good fruit, but in compensation, becaficos, so 
 called because they live on grapes. 
 
 While packing my trunk at Avignon, two venerable figures 
 entered, announcing themselves as members of the Munici- 
 pal Council. I supposed them emissaries from some church, 
 when they informed me with much pomposity and prolixity 
 that they wished to commend to my loyalty and virtue a 
 lady about to travel with me. I replied very crossly that 
 I should be very loyal and virtuous but that I detested 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 159 
 
 traveling with women, whose presence precluded smoking. 
 The mail coach arrived, within which I found a large, 
 handsome woman, simply and coquettishly attired, who de- 
 clared herself to be always very ill in a carriage, and des- 
 paired of reaching Paris alive. Our tite-cL-tite began, and I 
 was as polite and amiable as I find it possible to be while 
 remaining in a cramped position. My companion talked 
 well, without any Marseillaise accent, was an ardent Bona- 
 partist, very enthusiastic, believed in the immortality of the 
 soul, not too much in the Catechism, and saw things gen- 
 erally en beau; nevertheless, I was conscious that she felt 
 a certain fear of me. We were some fifty odd hours alone ; 
 but though we chatted immensely I found it impossible to 
 come to any conclusion respecting my neighbor except that 
 she was married, and a person of good society. On arriv- 
 ing at Paris she precipitated herself into the arms of an 
 excessively ugly man, no doubt her father, and raising my 
 hat I was about entering a cab, when my unknown, leaving 
 the gentleman, said in an agitated voice : '* Monsieur, I am 
 much moved by the respectful consideration shown me by 
 you, for which I cannot sufiB.ciently express my gratitude ; 
 and I shall never forget my good fortune in traveling with 
 so ILLUSTRIOUS a man." And this word explains the Munici- 
 pal Councilors, and the terror of the lady. They had 
 evidently seen my name on the register, and the lady, hav- 
 ing read my books, expected to be swallowed alive, which 
 opinion no doubt is shared by many of my feminine readers. 
 This incident put me into a bad humor for two days. It is 
 a singular thing, that having at one period of my life be- 
 come a very worthless fellow, I lived during two years on 
 my former good reputation ; and since resuming my very 
 moral life, I now am considered a scamp. ... If you 
 are surprised that the goddesses are blondes, you will be 
 still more astonished at Naples at seeing statues whose hair 
 is painted red. It seems that beautiful women formerly 
 used red, even gold powder ; but on the other hand you 
 will see in the pictures of the Studii, a number of goddesses 
 with black hair, descriptive of which there is in Greek a 
 terrible word : milankhitis : the /a being a diabolical aspi- 
 rate. 
 
i6o MERIMfiE 
 
 It distresses me to perceive your rapid progress in Satan- 
 ism, that you are becoming ironical, sarcastic, and even 
 diabolical, all which words are drawn from the Greek, the 
 meaning of the last being calumniator. You jest at my 
 finest quahties, and even your praise is impaired by a reti- 
 cence and cautiousness that deprive the commendation of 
 all merit. As for good company, I have often found it 
 mortally tedious. I am vain enough to believe myself not 
 out of place with unpretending persons whom I have long 
 known, and at a Spanish inn with muleteers and Andalusian 
 peasant women. Write that in my funeral oration and you 
 will have told the truth. And if I speak of this, it is that 
 I believe the time approaches for you to prepare it; for I 
 suffer excessively from confused sight, spasms, and frightful 
 headaches, which would indicate some serious affection of 
 the brain, and I may soon become, as Homer says, a guest 
 of gloomy Proserpine. I should be delighted were it to 
 sadden you for a fortnight. 
 
 I believe the ancients to have been more amusing than 
 ourselves : they had not such paltry aims, were not pre- 
 occupied by such inanities. Julius Caesar at fifty-three was 
 guilty of follies for Cleopatra, and forgot all for her, nearly 
 to the point of drowning himself actually and figuratively. 
 What statesman of our generation is not callous, completely 
 insensible at the age at which he can aspire to be a 
 Deputy ? 
 
 The little that I have seen of Greece has enlarged my 
 comprehension of Homer. Throughout the "Odyssey" one 
 sees the incredible love of the Greeks for their own coun- 
 try. To dwell in a foreign land is to them the greatest of 
 misfortunes; but to die in exile is to them beyond all im- 
 agination frightful. You jest at my gastronomy ; do you 
 appreciate the entrails so greedily devoured by ancient 
 heroes? They are still eaten, and are truly delicious, being 
 composed of spiced and appetizing little crusts skewered by 
 perfumed mastic wood, which at once explains why the 
 priests reserved for themselves this tempting morsel of the 
 victims. 
 
 You ask if there are any Greek novels — there are many, 
 but very tedious in my opinion. "Daphnis and Chloe." 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA i6r 
 
 translated by Courier is pretentionsly naif and not over ex- 
 emplary. An admirable novel, but very immoral, is « I^'Ane 
 de Lucius ; " one does not boast, however, of reading it 
 though a masterpiece. The worst of the Greeks is, that 
 their ideas of morality and decency differ so essentially 
 from our own. If you have the courage to attempt history 
 you will be charmed with Herodotus, who enchants me. 
 Begin with "Anabasis or the Retreat of the Ten Thou- 
 sand ; " take a map of Asia and follow these ten thousand 
 rascals in their journey ; it is Froissard gigantesque. I,u- 
 cian is the Greek with the most wit, or rather our wit : 
 but he is a libertine and I dare not commend him. 
 
 I gratefully appreciate your condecension at the opera in 
 permitting me to look at your face during two hours, and 
 I owe it to truth to say that I admired it greatly, as also 
 your hair, which I had never seen so near. As to your 
 assertion of having refused nothing that I have asked of 
 you, several millions of years in purgatory will be your 
 penance for this fine falsehood. I do not remember com- 
 paring you to Cerberus, but you certainly bear him a re- 
 semblance, not only in your love for cakes, but in possessing 
 three heads, or rather brains — one of a frightful coquette, 
 the other of an old diplomatist ; the third I will not name, 
 as to-day I wish to tell you nothing agreeable. I have re- 
 turned from seeing " Fredegonde," which was excessively 
 tedious, notwithstanding Mademoiselle Rachel, who has very 
 handsome black eyes without white, as it is said has the 
 devil. You tell me amiably that you do not wish to see 
 me for fear of becoming wearied of me. If I am not mis- 
 taken, we have met six or seven times in six years, and 
 adding up the minutes, we may have passed three or four 
 hours together, the half of which was in silence. Admit that 
 it is little flattering to my self-love to be treated thus after 
 an intimacy of six years, and in face of the proofs of re- 
 gard that you have vouchsafed me ; moreover, pardon the 
 word, I think it somewhat silly. If you believe yourself to 
 be doing wrong in meeting me, do you commit no fault 
 in writing to me ? As I am not well versed in your cate- 
 chism, this remains a perplexing question. I speak harshly 
 perhaps, but you wound me, and I cannot imitate you in 
 
i62 MERIMEE 
 
 ridding myself of a weight on the heart by eating cakes. 
 But I will ask nothing more of you, — for you become 
 every day more imperious, and develop a scandalous refine- 
 ment in coquetry. You are careful to recall your eyes to 
 me, which I have not forgotten though so seldom seen. 
 You should see me were it only to escape from the atmos- 
 phere of flattery surrounding you. When I met you at 
 the house of our friend, your extreme elegance greatly sur- 
 prised me, and the quantity of cakes necessary to restore 
 you after the fatigue of the opera astonished me still more ; 
 not that I do not place coquetry and gourmandise in the 
 first rank of your faults, but I thought the form of these 
 defects a moral one ; believing that you bestowed little 
 thought ou your toilette, that you were a woman who eat 
 merely through abstraction, and preferred to make an im- 
 pression on men by your eyes and clever sayings rather 
 than by your dresses. See how deceived I have been. 
 
 December, 1842. — Formerly the absurdities of others 
 amused me, but now I prefer to conceal them from the 
 world. I have also become more humane, and when wit- 
 nessing lately the bull-fights at Madrid, the pleasurable sen- 
 sations of ten years previous were not renewed. I have a 
 horror of all suffering, and for some time past have believed 
 in moral suffering. In short, I strive as much as possible 
 to forget my MB ; and this in a few words is a list of my 
 perfections. No, I have no Vanagloria. I see things too 
 practically, perhaps, having been escarmentado through re- 
 garding them too poetically. I have passed my life in 
 being praised for qualities that I do not possess, and cal- 
 umniated for defects that are not mine. 
 
 Your letter does not surprise me in the least : for I now 
 know you well enough to be certain that when a good 
 thought strikes you it is at once repented of, and you strive 
 to have it speedily forgotten — but this justice I will do 
 you : that you understand admirably how to gild the most 
 bitter pill. You compare me to the devil. I was quite 
 conscious on Tuesday of not thinking enough about my old 
 books and too much of your gloves and bottines. But in 
 spite of all that you say with such diabolical coquetry, I 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 163 
 
 cannot believe that you have the slightest fear of renev/ing 
 at the Museum our former follies. It pleases you to have 
 some vague mark for your coquetry, and you find it in me ; 
 but you do not wish it to be too near, for should you miss 
 the target your vanity would suffer, and perhaps in ap- 
 proaching it closely you would discover it to be not worth 
 your shaft. Have I read you aright? 
 
 I suffer terribly and cough incessantly, nevertheless I shall 
 go to hear Rachel declaim tirades from " Phldre " before 
 several great men, and she will believe my cough to be a 
 cabal against her. This evening I heard Madame Persian! 
 sing, and she has reconciled me to human nature ; were I 
 King Saul I should choose her in place of David. 
 
 I am told that M. de Pongerville, the Academician, is 
 about to die, which throws me into despair, for I shall not 
 be chosen to replace him, and I wish he could wait until 
 my time shall arrive. He has translated into verse a I^atin 
 named lyUcretius, who died at the age of forty-three from 
 having taken a philtre to make himself beloved, previous 
 to which he wrote a great poem, atheistic, impious, abomi- 
 nable, on "The Nature of Things." You appear to me to 
 grow more handsome, which I had thought impossible ; but 
 one always improves in beauty when in good health ; and 
 that comes with a hard heart and good digestion. 
 
 December, 1842. — I have been exceedingly ill with my 
 throat, and all the fires of hell in my breast, and have 
 passed several days in bed meditating on the strangeness of 
 this world. I find myself on the declivity of a mountain 
 whose summit, with much fatigue and little pleasure, I have 
 hardly attained, the descent being so steep and tedious that 
 perhaps it would be rather an advantage to fall into a crev- 
 ice before reaching the bottom ; while the only ray of con- 
 solation along the whole route has been a little distant 
 sunshine, a few months passed in Italy, Spain, or in Greece 
 while forgetting the whole world, the present, and especially 
 the future. All this is far from gay : but some one brings 
 me four volumes by Doctor Strauss, "The I/ife of Jesus," 
 which in Germany is called exegesis, a pure Greek word 
 they have found by which to express discussion on the 
 
1 64 MERIMEE 
 
 point of a needle, but it is very amusing. I have remarked 
 that the more closely a thing is shorn of any useful con- 
 clusion, the more amusing it becomes. 
 
 There are people who buy furniture of a color to suit 
 their taste, but for fear of spoiling it shroud it in linen 
 covers that are only removed when the furniture is worn out. 
 In all that you do and say, you substitute a factitious for 
 a true sentiment — this perhaps is decorum. You say in 
 your letter, " I believe that I have never loved you so well 
 as yesterday" — you should have added, "I love you less 
 to-day." I often repent of being too loyal in my r61e of 
 statue. You gave me your soul yesterday : I would have 
 given you mine in return but you did not wish it. Always 
 the linen cover ! 
 
 Yesterday on returning from a dinner I discovered that 
 I knew by heart the speech of Tecmessa that you admired, 
 and being in a somewhat pensive mood I translated it into 
 English verse, as I abhor French verse. 
 
 Paris, January, 1843. — I heartily forgive your jest 
 about the Academy, of which I think less than you be- 
 lieve. Should I ever be an Academician, I shall not be 
 hard as a rock, though perchance a little case-hardened 
 and mummified ; but rather a good fellow at heart. 
 
 I am reminded of an incident that occurred a fortnight 
 ago at a dinner given by an Academician for the purpose 
 of presenting Beranger to Mademoiselle Rachel. A number 
 of celebrities were assembled. Rachel came late and her 
 manner of entering displeased me; while the men said so 
 many silly things to her, and the women did so many on 
 seeing her, that I remained in my corner ; besides, it is a 
 year since I have spoken to her. After dinner, Beranger 
 with his candor and usual good sense told her that she 
 was wrong to fritter away her talent in salons, there being 
 for her only one true public, that of the Thd&tre Frangais. 
 Rachel appeared to appreciate the advice, and to prove 
 that she benefited by it, at once declaimed the first act of 
 "Esther." Some one was needed to give her the cue, and 
 by her direction a Racine was formally brought to me by 
 an Academician who was officiating as cicisbeo ; but I 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 165 
 
 replied rudely that I knew nothing about verses and that 
 there were persons present who being in that line would 
 scan them much better. Hugo excused himself on account 
 of his eyes ; another for some other reason, the master of 
 the house being finally victimized. Picture to yourself 
 Rachel costumed in black, standing between the piano and 
 tea-table, with a door behind her, assuming a theatrical 
 pose and expression, the transformation being very fine and 
 vastly amusing. This lasted about two minutes, then she 
 began ; — 
 
 '''•Est-ce toi, chire Elise?^'' 
 
 The confidante in the middle of his reply lets fall both 
 book and spectacles, ten minutes passing before he can re- 
 cover his page and his eyes. The audience perceive that 
 Esther is getting into a rage. She resumes. The door 
 behind opens, a servant enters, who is signed to withdraw. 
 He hurriedly retreats but does not succeed in shutting the 
 door, which remaining ajar swings to and fro, accompany- 
 ing Rachel with a melodious and most comical creak. 
 This not ceasing, Rachel puts her hand to her heart and 
 grows faint, but, like a person accustomed to die on the 
 stage, giving one time to come to her assistance. During 
 this interlude Hugo and M. Thiers fall to quarreling on 
 the subject of Racine, Hugo asserting that Racine had a 
 narrow mind {un petit esprit) and Corneille a master intel- 
 lect {un grand). "You say that," replied Thiers * because 
 you are un grand esprit; you are the Corneille" — here 
 Hugo's head assumed an air of great modesty — " of an 
 epoch of which Casimir Delavigne is the Racine." Mean- 
 while the swoon passes off and the act is finished, but 
 fiascheggiando. One of the guests who knows Rachel well, 
 remarked: "How she must have sworn this evening on 
 going away. " This is my story ; do not compromise me 
 with the Academicians. 
 
 I deeply regret having exposed you through my persist- 
 ency to such a frightful drenching. It rarely happens to 
 me to sacrifice others to myself, and when it occurs I am 
 filled with all possible remorse. Happiness only gives me 
 strength, while it diminishes yours. Wer besser liebt ? You 
 Jaughed at me and received as a jest what I said as to the 
 
1 66 MERIMEE 
 
 wish to sleep, or rather the torpor that sometimes steals 
 over one when in a state of happiness so great as to pre- 
 clude its utterance in words. I observed yesterday that 
 you were under the influence of this sleep, which is worth 
 many vigils, and I was too content to wish to disturb my 
 happiness. It is in exaggerating facts by brooding on 
 them that you have succeeded in making a star-chamber 
 matter of what you have yourself termed frivolities ; and 
 allow me to say, that the very obstinacy and rabid ferocity 
 with which you thwart me as to these frivolities render 
 them more dear to me, and endue them with a fresh im- 
 portance. If I must see you only to resist the most inno- 
 cent temptations, it is the r61e of a saint surpassing my 
 strength, and the condition exacted by you that I trans- 
 form myself into a statue, like the king in the "Arabian 
 Nights," is simply insupportable. The only hypocrisy of 
 which I am capable is that of concealing from those whom 
 I love all the ill they do me ; I might sustain the effort 
 for a season ; but forever, no. As to our walk, I am like 
 a cat that continues to lick his moustache after lapping 
 milk. Acknowledge that repose, even the kef, which is 
 superior to all that is best of this nature, is nothing in 
 comparison with the happiness "that is almost a pain." 
 You claim to have spoiled me, but you do not understand 
 the art ; your triumph is to put me in a fury. Adieu, 
 
 DEARBST ! 
 
 Paris, February, 1843. — Since seeing you I have been 
 much in society, committing a multitude of academic mean- 
 nesses which cost me a painful effort, having lost the habit, 
 but doubtless I shall quickly pick it up again. To-day I saw 
 five illustrious poets and writers of prose, and had night 
 not overtaken me the thirty-six visits might possibly have 
 been achieved at a dash. The drollery of it is the meeting 
 one's rivals, several of whom glared as if they wished to 
 eat me alive. Truth to say, I am worn out with this 
 odious drudgery and should be glad to forget it all in an 
 hour with you. 
 
 I have been this evening to the Italians, where, thanks 
 to the claquers, my enemy Madame Viardot had a success. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 167 
 
 I find that I have omitted to attend the Opera House Ball 
 — where, alas! is the happy time in which I so enjoyed it? 
 now it bores me horribly. Do I not seem to you very old ? 
 Theodore Hook is dead. Have you read Bulwer's " Ernest 
 Mai tra vers," and "Alice," which contain charming pictures 
 of old love and young love ? You may reflect with pride 
 on the strange influence you have exercised over my ideas 
 and resolutions ; you have read my thought as quickly as 
 it was conceived — and yet yesterday, on the strength of 
 a Greek verse, I went to Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, full of 
 hope, but fruitlessly. Do you remember when we always 
 divined each other's wishes? The other evening at the 
 opera your rainbow costume inspired me with various fan- 
 cies, but you have no need of coquetry with me. I do 
 not love you better as a rainbow than in black. I have 
 long suspected something diabolical in you, but am some- 
 what reassured in thinking that I have seen your feet, 
 neither of which is cloven ; nevertheless it may be that 
 beneath these bottines you have a little claw concealed. I 
 have passed a wretched night of suffering, and as a diver- 
 sion shall think of your feet and hands. 
 
 I have received the sad news of the death by paralysis 
 of poor Sharp,* one of my most intimate friends whom I 
 was about to visit in I/jndon. I cannot yet accustom my- 
 self to the thought of seeing him no more. 
 
 My fate will be decided at the Academy on the four- 
 teenth, which corresponds with the ides of March, the day 
 of the death of my hero, Caesar. Ominous, is it not? 
 Reason encourages me to hope, but a depressing intuition 
 whispers of failure. Meanwhile I conscientiously pay my 
 visits. I find people very polite, quite accustomed to their 
 parts and enacting them very much in earnest, while I strive 
 to play mine with equal gravity^ though I find it diflScult. 
 Does it not strike you as comical to say to a man, " Mon- 
 sieur, I believe myself to be one of the forty cleverest men 
 of France; I am worthy of you," and similar /«f^/2<r. This 
 must, moreover, be translated into civil and fitting phrase 
 to suit the various persons ; an occupation to weary me 
 beyond endurance if prolonged. I envy the fate of women 
 
 • Mr. Sutton Sharp, a very distinguished English barrister. 
 
i68 MERIMfiE 
 
 who have no employment but to make themselves beautiful^ 
 and to rehearse the effect to be produced on others. I re- 
 turn your cravate, which was found in the anteroom of His 
 Royal Highness the Duke de Nemours, but no one has 
 asked any explanation of its presence in my pocket. 
 
 I am full of remorse for my fury, my only excuse being 
 that the transition from our delicious halt in a strange 
 species of oasis, to our walk, was too abrupt — it was fall- 
 ing from heaven to hell. You reproach me with being in- 
 different to every one ; I suppose you simply mean that I 
 am undemonstrative — when untrue to my nature I suffer. 
 Admit also that it is sad, after becoming all that we are to 
 each other, to find you still distrustful of me. Two per- 
 sonalities exist in you : the one all heart and soul ; the 
 other a beautiful statue, polished by society, draped in silk 
 and cashmere, a charming automaton with most skillfully 
 adjusted springs. We speak to the first, and find only 
 the statue ; but why need it be so lovely ! You ask if I 
 believe in the soul — not over much ; nevertheless, on reflec- 
 tion I find an argument in favor of the hypothesis, namely : 
 how could two inanimate substances give and receive a sen- 
 sation by a union that would be simply insipid but for the 
 idea that we associate with it? This is rather a pedantic 
 mode of saying that when two persons who love, embrace 
 each other, they experience a sensation quite different from 
 that communicated by kissing the softest satin. But the 
 argument has its value, and we will discuss metaphysics at 
 our next meeting — a subject of which I am fond, for it is 
 inexhaustible. 
 
 You shall have your portrait en Turquesse, and I have 
 placed a narghili in your hand to add a local coloring ; but 
 I must have my pay, or prepare for a terrible vengeance. 
 I have been asked to-day to contribute a sketch for an 
 album to be sold for the benefit of sufferers by an earth- 
 quake, and I shall give them your portrait ! 
 
 Paris, April, 1843. — You do well not to speak of Catul- 
 lus. He is not an author to be read during Holy Week, 
 and there are passages in his writings quite impossible to 
 translate into French. We clearly see what love was at 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 169 
 
 Rome toward the year 50 before J. C. ; it was, however, a 
 little better than love at Athens in the time of Pericles. 
 Women were already a recognized force : they made men 
 commit follies. Their power arose, not, as is commonly 
 said, through Christianity, but I think through the influ- 
 ence that the barbarians of the North exercised over Roman 
 society. The Germans were capable of exaltation. They 
 loved the soul ; the Romans loved little save the body. It 
 is true that for a long period women were without souls : 
 they have none as yet in the East, and it is a pity. You 
 comprehend how two souls speak to one another, but yours 
 seldom responds to mine. I am glad that you value the 
 verses of Musset, and you are right in comparing him 
 with Catullus, who, however, wrote his native tongue 
 better, while Musset has the defect of not believing more 
 in the soul than Catullus, whom his time excused. Would 
 you believe that a Roman could say pretty things, and 
 could be tender ? I will show you some verses that will fit 
 in like wax & propos of our usual disputes. You will see 
 that the ancients are worth more than your Wilhelm Meister. 
 Our walks have become a part of my life, and I hardly 
 understand how I previously existed. In what mood shall 
 I find you? Each time that we meet you are mailed in a 
 fresh panoply of ice that only melts at the end of a quarter 
 of an hour. By the time of my return you will have ac- 
 cumulated a veritable iceberg. 
 
 AvAivLON, August, 1843. — I came here to visit an old 
 uncle whom I have seldom seen. I dislike relations ; one 
 is obliged to be familiar with persons whom one has rarely 
 met because they happen to be the son of the same father 
 as one's mother. My uncle, however, is a good fellow, not 
 too provincial, and whom I should find agreeable if we pos- 
 sessed two ideas in common. The women here are as ugly 
 as those of Paris, having, moreover, ankles as thick as 
 posts. In addition to our moral perfections we have the 
 advantage of being the ugliest and most stunted people in 
 Europe. At Vezelay I found myself in a horrible little town 
 perched on a high mountain, bored to death by the coun- 
 try people, and preoccupied by a speech I was to deliver. 
 
I70 MERIMEE 
 
 I am a Representative, and you know me well enough to 
 judge how odious to me is the r61e of a public man. 
 While I sketched, a crowd gathered about me, emulating 
 each other in conjectures as to the nature of my occupation. 
 To console me there was an admirable church which owes 
 to me its escape from demolition, and which I first saw 
 soon after meeting you ; and I asked myself to-day if we 
 were more mad then than now- There was also a natural 
 terrace that a poet might well call a precipice, where I 
 philosophized on the MB, on Providence, in the hypothesis that 
 it exists ; and finished with the despairing thought that you 
 are far away. I send you an owl's feather that I found 
 in the abbatical church, having read in some book of magic 
 that when a woman places it beneath her pillow she dreams 
 of her friend. 
 
 SainT-IvUPICIN, August^ 1843, 600 metres above the level 
 of the sea — in the midst of an ocean of very active and fam- 
 ished fleas. — This village is in the Jura Mountains, is ugly 
 to the last degree, filthy, and populous with fleas. I shall 
 pass a night like those at Ephesus, but at my awaking, 
 unfortunately, I shall find neither laurels nor Greek ruins. 
 There are immense quantities of colossal flowers, a singu- 
 larly keen and pure air, and the human voice can be heard 
 at a league's distance. I have had leaden skies, a broken 
 wheel, and a poulticed eye, all tolerably remedied : but I 
 cannot become habituated to solitude — solitude in motion, 
 than which there is nothing more sad ; and were I in 
 prison, I should be more at my ease than thus roving alone 
 about the country. 
 
 Avignon, 1843. — The district that I am now traversing 
 is very fine, but the natives are stupid beyond measure. 
 No one opens his mouth but to praise the country, and 
 this from the priest to the porter. There is no appearance 
 of that tact constituting the gentleman, which I found 
 among the common people of Spain; but with that excep- 
 tion it is impossible to find a country more nearly resem- 
 bling Spain. There is the same aspect of town and land- 
 scape ; the workmen lie in the shade and drop their cloaks 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 171 
 
 with a tragic air that is Andalusian ; the odor of garlic and 
 oil is mingled with that of oranges and jasmine ; the streets 
 are shaded with linen during the day, and the women have 
 small, well-shod feet ; there is nothing, even to the patois, 
 that has not a flavor of Spain. A still closer relation exists 
 in its abundance of gnats, fleas, and other insects, and I 
 have yet two months of this life to pass before seeing hu- 
 man beings ! 
 
 I have sent my sketches to Paris ; besides, a Roman 
 capital would not interest you, — devils, dragons, and saints 
 forming the decoration. The devils of the first centuries of 
 Christianity are not very seductive, and I am sure that 
 you would not value dragons and saints. I have sketched 
 a Magon costume for you, the only graceful one I have 
 seen, though the sash is so droUy placed as to afford no 
 advantage in a slender over a thick waist, — the dress would 
 seem to require a special physical organization. The cheap- 
 ness of cotton stuffs and the facility of communication with 
 Paris have wrought the disappearance of our national cos- 
 tumes. Avignon is filled with churches and palaces, all 
 provided with battlemented and machicolated towers. The 
 palace of the Pope is a model of a fortification for the 
 Middle Ages, which proves what amiable security reigned 
 toward the fourteenth century. There are subterranean 
 chambers used by the Inquisition, with the remains of an 
 infernal complicated machine, and furnaces for heating the 
 irons with which heretics were tortured. The natives are 
 as proud of their Inquisition as the English of their Magna 
 Charta. "We also," say they, "have had auto-da-fi, and 
 the Spaniards had none until after us ! " 
 
 Toulon, October. — It is impossible to find a place dirtier 
 or prettier than Marseilles ; and these words are especially 
 appropriate to its women. They have expressive counte- 
 nances, fine black eyes, beautiful teeth, very small feet, and 
 imperceptible ankles ; but the pretty feet are shod in thick, 
 cinnamon-colored stockings the color of Marseilles mud, and 
 darned with cotton of twenty different tints. Their dresses 
 are badly made, untidy and covered with stains, while their 
 fine hair owes its lustre mainly to candle-grease. Add to 
 
172 MERIMEE 
 
 this an atmosphere redolent of garlic mixed with fumes of 
 rancid oil, and you have a picture of the Marseilles 
 beauty. What a pity that nothing can be perfect in this 
 world! Yet, in spite of all, they are ravishing — a positive 
 triumph. 
 
 Your letter is admirably diplomatic ; you practice the 
 axiom that language has been given to man to conceal his 
 thought : and yet I see between the lines the tenderest 
 things in the world. I think unceasingly of my return to 
 Paris, and my imagination paints I know not how many 
 delicious moments passed at your side. 
 
 Paris, 1843. — I wbary for you, to make use of an 
 ellipsis that you affect. I did not clearly realize that we 
 were about to part for so long a time. Shall we really see 
 each other no more? We separated without a word, almost 
 without a look. I was sensible of a calm happiness not 
 usual with me, and for a few moments I seemed to wish 
 for nothing more. How ingenious you are in depriving 
 others and yourself of an enchantment that comes so near ! 
 Doubtless I am wrong to use the word enchantment, as 
 marmots probably never experience the sensation, and you 
 were one of those pretty animals before Brahma transferred 
 your soul to the body of a woman. But notwithstanding 
 my ill-humor I love better to see you with your grand air 
 of indifference than not at all. The affection you bear me 
 is merely an emanation of the intellect. You are all mind, 
 one of those chilly women of the North who live only 
 through the head. Our characters are as opposite as our 
 STAMINA, and though you may divine my thoughts, you can 
 never comprehend them. Yet, with all these conflicting 
 characteristics a great affinity exists between us ; it is 
 Goethe's Walverwandschaft. Throw away your faded flowers 
 and come with me to seek fresh ones. You say that 
 sunshine exercises a cheering influence over you, — and for 
 myself, though I love you at all seasons, in all weather, 
 the happiness of seeing you in sunshine is a more exquisite 
 happiness still. Is it possible that you cannot say to me 
 all that you write ? What is this bizarre timidity that 
 hinders frankness, prompts you to wrap your thoughts in 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 173 
 
 words more perplexing than the Apocalypse, and to assert 
 the most extraordinary falsehood rather than allow a word 
 of truth to escape which would give me such pleasure? 
 Do you believe in the devil? In my opinion the pith 
 of the matter lies there. If he terrifies you, contrive 
 that he do not carry you off. I do not guaranty my 
 catechism, which, however, I believe to be the best. I 
 have never sought to make converts, but, up to the 
 present time, neither has my conversion been accomplished 
 by others. 
 
 Yesterday evening I went to the opera, where they pro- 
 posed to close the doors, Ronconi being drunk or in prison 
 for debt; but yielding to our clamor they gave us "ly'Elisir 
 d'Amore " ; after which I corrected proofs until three o'clock 
 in the morning. I do not concern myself so much about 
 the Academy as you suppose. I have hardly a chance of 
 success. Do you think any magic that will conjure my 
 name from the deal-box called Urn? 
 
 Paris, March, 1844.*- — Many thanks for your congratula- 
 tions, but I wish for something better ; to see and walk 
 with you. I think you take the matter too tragically. 
 Why do you weep ? The ** forty chairs " were not worth 
 one little tear. I am very heartily gratified, the more that 
 I expected defeat ; and my mother who was suffering from 
 acute rheumatism was suddenly cured. I am worn out, 
 demoralized, and completely "out of my wits." Then my 
 novel, "Ars&ne Guillot," makes a signal fiasco and rouses 
 the indignation of all the self-styled virtuous people, espe- 
 cially the women of fashion who dance the polka and 
 throng to the sermons of Pere Ravignan, and who go so 
 far as to liken me to a monkey who climbs to the top of 
 the tree and makes grimaces at the world below. I believe 
 that some votes have been lost by this scandal ; on the 
 other hand, some have been gained. Now, to show my 
 greatness of soul, I must rush about thanking friends and 
 €nemies. I had the good fortune to be blackballed seven 
 times by persons whom I detest, yet who tell me that they 
 were my warmest partisans ; but it is a happiness not to 
 
 *His election to the Frencli Academy. 
 
174 MERIMEE 
 
 be burdened with gratitude toward those whom we hold in 
 slight esteem. My Homer deceived me, or rather it was 
 M. Vatout to whom the threatening vaticination was ad- 
 dressed. 
 
 March, 1844. — I fear that the address may have seemed 
 too long. I am still shivering from the cold, and you may 
 have perceived my terrible cough, which might have been 
 mistaken for a cabal. Did you prefer the full dress to the 
 frock coat ? I had some difficulty in discovering you hidden 
 beneath your neighbor's bonnet — another bit of childish- 
 ness. Did you see what I sent you, in full view of the 
 Academy? But of course you never wish to see anything. 
 Why will you dispute on this text : " Which loves the 
 best ? * A desirable preliminary would be to come to an 
 agreement as to the meaning of the verb, and this we shall 
 never do ; we are both too ignorant, and above all too ig- 
 norant of each other. More than once I have fancied you 
 to be clearly revealed, but you always escape me. I was 
 right in calling you Cerberus, "three gentlemen in one." 
 Our mutual concessions only result in making us more un- 
 happy ; and, more clear-sighted than you, I greatly blame 
 myself, for I have made you suffer in prolonging an illusion 
 that I should never have conceived. For you I have no 
 reproaches. You wished to reconcile two incompatible 
 things, but in vain. Should I not be grateful that you 
 essayed the impossible for my sake? On the whole, per- 
 haps you will one day come to regard our folly only in its 
 fairest light, will remember only the happy moments we 
 have passed together. 
 
 Consider if it be not sad for me to find myself always in 
 conflict with your pride, my great enemy, or rather rival 
 in your heart, and which triumphs over your tenderness, 
 in comparison with which it is a Colossus to a pigmy. 
 This premeditated pleasure, or, I prefer to believe, instinct 
 that leads you to excite in me a desire for what you obsti- 
 nately refuse, is in reality a species of selfishness. All that 
 wounds your pride stirs you to rebellion ; and unconsciously 
 this colors the most trivial details. You are happy, you 
 tell me, when I kiss your hand, and you yield yourself to 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 175 
 
 the feeling because your pride is satisfied by this demon- 
 stration of humility. You wish me to be a statue that you 
 may be my life, my soul-awakener ; but you wish for no 
 reciprocity in the happiness to which I aspire, as that 
 would imply an equality that displeases you. I shall never 
 place my pride and happiness in the same scale, therefore 
 if you will kindly suggest new formulas of humility, I will 
 adopt them without hesitation. Is not the friendship which 
 so strangely unites us, a sweeter, more living force than 
 all the victories gained by your demon pride? 
 
 Paris, 1844. — It is decided that I go to Algeria next 
 month ; and while you are learning Greek I am studying 
 Arabic, a diabolical language of which I shall never acquire 
 two words. I passed a day at Strasbourg, exhorting the 
 authorities with sublime eloquence to restore an ancient 
 church ; their reply being that they were in greater need 
 of tobacco than monuments, and that they should convert 
 the church into a storehouse. The cathedral that formerly 
 I liked so much appears absolutely ugly, and even the wise 
 and foolish virgins of Steinbach hardly found grace in my 
 eyes. You are right in liking Paris so well ; it is, after 
 all, the only city in which one can truly live. 
 
 I dined yesterday with General Narvaez — an entertain- 
 ment in honor of his wife's birthday. Few ladies except 
 Spanish were present. One was pointed out to me who is 
 starving herself to death through love, and is gently fading 
 away. This species of suicide must seem very cruel to 
 you. There was another demoiselle, whom General Ser- 
 rano has deserted for her fat Catholic Majesty ; but she is 
 not dying of it, and seems even to be in excellent health. 
 There was also Madame Gonzalez Bravo, sister of the actor 
 Romea, and sister-in-law of the same Majesty, who, it is 
 said, gives herself a large number of sisters-in-law. This 
 one is very pretty and very clever. 
 
 Paris, 1844. — We separated yesterday mutually discon- 
 tented, and both were in the wrong. It is evident that we 
 can no longer meet without quarreling horribly. We both 
 desire the impossible. You — that I should be a statue ; I 
 
176 MERIMEE 
 
 — that you should cease to be one. Every fresh proof of 
 this impossibiUty, which at heart we have never doubted, 
 is cruel for both. For my part I regret all the pain I 
 have caused you. I too often give way to impulses of ab- 
 surd anger ; it would be as reasonable to feel angry against 
 ice for being cold. I hope that you will forgive me; no 
 resentment remains, only a heavy sadness. Adieu, since 
 only at a distance can we be friends. When both shall be 
 old, we may perhaps meet again with pleasure ; meanwhile, 
 in misfortune or in happiness, remember me. Once more, 
 while I have the courage, adieu. 
 
 Paris, 1844. — My occupation at this moment is tedious 
 and low beyond measure ; I am soliciting votes for the Acad- 
 emy of Inscriptions. The most absurd scenes occur, and 
 I am often seized with a wish to laugh, which must be re- 
 pressed for fear of shocking the gravity of the Academi- 
 cians. I embarked somewhat blindly in the affair, but my 
 chances are not bad. You are wrong to be jealous of In- 
 scriptions. I have a little amour propre is the matter ; just 
 as in a game of chess with a skillful adversary, but neither 
 loss nor gain will affect me a quarter so much as one of 
 our quarrels. But what a vile calling is this of solicitor ! 
 Did you ever see dogs enter the hole of a badger? When 
 experienced in the game they have an appalled look on 
 entering, and often come out more quickly than they go in, 
 for it is an ugly brute to visit, is the badger. I always 
 think of the badger when about to ring the bell of an 
 Academician, and " in the mind's eye *' I see myself an 
 exact likeness of that dog. However, I have not yet been 
 bitten. 
 
 PoiTiBRS, 1844. — No doubt you have amused yourself 
 exceedingly, which I cannot but believe to be synonymous 
 with an indulgence in coquetry. Since leaving Paris my 
 life has been unspeakably disagreeable. Like Ulysses, I 
 liave seen much of manners, men, and cities, and find them 
 all very ugly. I have had several attacks of fever that 
 astonished and grieved me as proving that I am growing 
 old. I find the country the flattest and most insignificant 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 177 
 
 in France, but fine forests, great trees, and vast solitudes 
 abound, wherein I should like to meet you. I pass my 
 time in meditating on our walks. I applaud Scribe for 
 having made a virtuous and neo-catholic public laugh with 
 the prizes for virtue ; and I am equally surprised as to 
 what you say of his elocution, as formerly he read abomin- 
 ably. It must be the academic robe that bestows this self- 
 command ; and this restored a little hope for me. 
 
 PBRPIGNAN, 1844. — I have been tormented by an absurd 
 idea which I hardly dare to tell you. While visiting the 
 arena of Nimes with the architect of the department, who 
 was explaining some repairs under his direction, I observed 
 ten paces from me a charming bird a little larger than a 
 titmouse, gray body, with white, red, and black wings, 
 which, perching itself on a cornice, looked fixedly at me. 
 The architect, a great sportsman, had never seen one re- 
 sembling it. As I approached it flew ofE, poising itself 
 again a few steps distant, still regarding me closely ; and 
 wherever I went, in every story of the amphitheatre, it fol- 
 lowed me, its flight being noiseless, like that of a night 
 bird. The next day the scene was repeated. I brought 
 bread, it would not touch it ; I then threw it a grasshop- 
 per, which it equally disregarded, still watching me. The 
 most learned ornithologist of the town tells me that no bird 
 of this species exists in this region. Finally, at my last 
 visit to the amphitheatre, my bird still followed my steps 
 so far as to enter a dark and narrow corridor where a day 
 bird would seldom venture. I then remembered that the 
 Duchess of Buckingham saw her husband under the form 
 of a bird the day of his assassination, and the idea flashed 
 upon me that you were dead and had assumed this shape 
 to visit me. In spite of myself this nonsense distressed 
 me, and I was enchanted to find your letter dated the day 
 on which I first saw my marvelous bird. 
 
 A fair is in progress here, and the town additionally 
 thronged with Spaniards flying from the epidemic, so that 
 I was unable to obtain lodging at an inn, and should have 
 been reduced to a bed in the street but for the commisera- 
 tion of a hatter. I write in a cold little room with a 
 12 
 
178 MERIMEE 
 
 smoking chimney, cursing the rain that dashes against my 
 window ; the woman who serves me speaks Catalan, and 
 only understands me when I speak Spanish ; while, worst 
 of all, the flood threatens to carry away the bridge and de- 
 tain me here, a wretched prisoner. An admirable situation 
 for the expression of ideas. 
 
 I have been to the Fountain of Vaucluse, where I wished 
 to inscribe your name, but there were so many atrocious 
 verses, so many Sophies and Carolines, that I would not 
 profane it by such bad company. Parthenay I found a 
 horrible town of chouans, with an abominable tavern where 
 they made an infernal noise, and mixed so much stable 
 with my dinner as to make it impossible for me to eat. At 
 Saint-Maixent I saw women with headgear of the four- 
 teenth century, and the waist of the dress of nearly the 
 same period, allowing the chemise to be seen, which is of 
 coarse house-cloth, buttoned under the chin, and open like 
 men's shirts ; and in spite of the gingerbread beneath I 
 thought it very pretty. 
 
 Paris, February, 1845. — Everything passed off better 
 than I had hoped.* I was perfectly self-possessed, and am 
 well content with the public, though I know not if it be so 
 with me. All is well since you did not find me ridiculous. 
 I should have lost my confidence had I known you to be 
 present, in view especially of my tarragon-colored coat and 
 my face idem. 
 
 ToTJi,ousE. — Fortunately I find here your letter, for I was 
 furious at your sildnce. You are never so near forgetting 
 me as when persuading me that I am in your thought. 
 You ask me to pet you, but I am in too bad a humor, hav- 
 in been in a continuous rage this past fortnight against 
 you, against myself, the weather, and the architects. I 
 passed four- and- twenty hours at the house of a Deputy and 
 if I were ambitious of being a politician this visit would 
 have completely quenched my aspirations. What a calling ! 
 what people one must see, conciliate, flatter ! I say with 
 
 *His reception at the French Academy. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 179 
 
 Hotspur : " I had rather be a kitten and cry mew. ^' Slav- 
 ery for slavery, I prefer the court of a despot ; at least the 
 greater part of despots wash their hands. In England, no 
 doubt, Lady M will beset you again with her fine theo- 
 ries " about the baseness of being in love. " God knows 
 if you will not return three-quarters English. While you 
 are luxuriating in melting peaches, I am eating yellew, acid 
 ones of a singular but not unpleasant flavor, and figs of 
 every color. I am immeasurably bored in the evening, and 
 begin to wish for the society of bipeds of my own species. I 
 count the provincials as naught, being fatiguing to my eyes 
 and entirely foreign to my circle of thought. 
 
 Barcelona, 1845. — I have reached the goal of my long 
 journey, and have been admirably received by my archivist, 
 who had already prepared my tables and the ancient books 
 in which I shall lose what remains of my sight. To find 
 his despacho, a gothic hall of the fourteenth century must 
 be traversed, and a marble court planted with orange- trees 
 as tall as our lime-trees, and covered with ripe fruit. This 
 is very poetical, and as regards comfort and luxury recalls, 
 as does my chamber, the Asiatic caravanserai. However, it 
 is better than Andalusia, though the natives are inferior 
 and have a fatal defect in my eyes, or rather ears, in that 
 I understand nothing of their gibberish. At Perpignan, I 
 met two gypsies who were cropping mules, and I spoke 
 cal6 to them to the great horror of my companion, a colonel 
 of artillery ; while they, finding me even more skilled than 
 themselves in the patois, offered a striking testimony to my 
 attainments of which I was not a little proud. In summing 
 up the results of my journey, my conviction is, that it was 
 unnecessary to come so far, and that my history could have 
 been satisfactorily accomplished without disturbing the ven- 
 erable dust of Aragonese archives. 
 
 Madrid, November, 1845. — I have been installed here a 
 week in the midst of intense cold, rain, and a climate quite 
 similar to that of Paris ; only, I look on snow-capped 
 mountains and live familiarly with very fine Velasquez. 
 Thanks to the ineffable slowness of these people, I have 
 
t8o MERIMfiE 
 
 only to-day begun to ferret among the manuscripts, as an 
 academic council was necessary to permit me to examine 
 them, and I know not how many intrigues to enable me 
 to obtain information as to their existence. 
 
 I find this country much changed, and less agreeable 
 since my last visit. Persons whom I left friends are now 
 mortal enemies; many of my former acquaintances have 
 become grandees, and very insolent. Every one thinks 
 aloud, with but slight consideration for others, and a 
 frankness prevails that amazes us Frenchmen, and me the 
 more, inasmuch as you have lately accustomed me to some- 
 thing very different. You should make a tour beyond the 
 Pyrenees to take a lesson in frankness. You can form no 
 conception of the expression of the swain's face when the 
 beloved object does not arrive at the appointed hour, nor 
 of the noise of the escaping sighs ; but such scenes are so 
 common as to create no scandal nor tittle-tattle. I see 
 happy lovers, and find that they take advantage of the 
 confidence and intimacy accorded by their innamoratas. 
 The most romantic do not comprehend in the least what 
 we term gallantry : the lovers here, truth to say, are 
 merely husbands non-authorized by the church. They are 
 the souffre douleur of the legal husband, execute commis- 
 sions, and nurse Madame when she takes medicine. Not- 
 withstanding your infernal coquetry, and your aversion for 
 the truth, I love you far more than all these over-frank 
 people. Do not take advantage of this avowal. It is so 
 cold that we shall have no bull-fight ; but a number of 
 balls are announced, the tedium of which is inexpressi- 
 ble. 
 
 August, 184.6, on board a steamboat. — I have been among 
 the mountains seeking some spot remote from electors and 
 candidates, but I found such quantities of flies and fleas 
 that I am not sure if the elections be not preferable. 
 Yesterday evening I spent with peasant men and women, 
 making their hair stand on end with ghost stories. There 
 was a magnificent moon that lighted up their regular fea- 
 tures and showed the fine black eyes of these damsels, 
 while idealizing the condition of their hands and stockings. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A i8i 
 
 I went to bed very proud of my success with this, to me, 
 novel audience ; but in the morning on seeing my Ardi- 
 choises by sunlight con villanos manos y pies, I almost re- 
 gretted my eloquence. 
 
 Paris, 1846. — I find the provinces more stupid and 
 unendurable each year. I could not well describe the 
 tedium and various annoyances of this little tour. It re- 
 calls Clarence's dream : — 
 
 *I would not spend another such a night, 
 Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days." 
 
 Paris is absolutely empty of intelligent inhabitants, only 
 cap-makers and Deputies remaining, which is nearly the 
 same thing. I am even more isolated here than usual, de- 
 pressed by something of the feeling of an emigri who on 
 returning to his country finds a new generation. It will 
 strike you that I have grown horribly old — all of which 
 simply means that I am sad, very cross, and that it is 
 you, our walks, which I need. Perhaps when the sea air 
 shall have tarnished your dresses, or fresh ones arrive from 
 Paris, you will send me a thought. There is nothing on 
 earth half so charming to a woman, it is said, as to dis- 
 play pretty toilets. I can offer you no equivalent for 
 these joys ; but I should suffer too much in believing you 
 to be so constituted. I learn, with pleasure, that you are 
 
 so heartily wearied at , which I predicted. After living 
 
 in Paris, the provinces are insupportable ; one says and 
 does numberless enormities that ate overlooked in Paris, 
 but which in a village are magnified to the size of a 
 house. 
 
 Bonn, 1846. — When once launched on a journey I have 
 the utmost difficulty in coming to a halt ; and very seduct- 
 ive promises will be needed to prevent me from pushing on 
 to Lapland. I have been six days in this admirable coun- 
 try, I mean Rhenish Prussia, where civilization is very 
 advanced, with the exception of the beds, which are still 
 four feet long, the sheets three. I lead an altogether Ger- 
 man life. I rise at five o'clock and go to bed at nine, after 
 
1 82 MERIM^E 
 
 partaking of four meals, which routine suits me quite well ; 
 and I am not yet ill with doing nothing save opening my 
 mouth and eyes. Only, the German women have become 
 horribly ugly since my last visit. 
 
 With respect to monuments, I am by no means satisfied 
 with those I have seen, the German architects appearing 
 to me even worse then our own. They have denuded the 
 Minister at Bonn, and painted the Abbej' at I^ahr in a way 
 to make one grind one's teeth. The scenery of the Moselle 
 is very much overpraised, and I have seen nothing really 
 Striking since passing the Tmolus. My admiration is ex- 
 clusively reserved for the umbrageous foliage and for their 
 fine conception of the cuisine; here the most important 
 occupation is zu speisen. All honest people after dining at 
 one o'clock take tea and cakes at four, go to a garden at 
 six to eat a roll and stuffed tongue, which enables them 
 to sustain nature until eight, when they go to a hotel to 
 have their supper. What becomes of the women during 
 this period I do not know, but it is certain that from eight 
 to ten o'clock not a man remains in the house, each one 
 being at his favorite hotel, eating, drinking, and smoking ; 
 and the reason of this may, I think, be found in the large 
 feet of these ladies and the excellence of Rhenish wine. 
 
 Paris, March, 1848. — I have never been more sadly 
 shocked by the stupidity of the Northern people, and also 
 by their inferiority to those of the South, than during my 
 recent tour, the average native of Picardy striking me as 
 much below the lowest class of Provence ; in addition to 
 which I nearly perished with cold in all the inns to which 
 my evil destiny led me. 
 
 I am tormented by the failure of the firm, in 
 
 which I fear your interests also are at stake ; and each day 
 will bring us fresh disturbance. We must sustain each 
 other and share the little courage remaining to us. You 
 are too much alarmed ; but it is difficult to give advice and 
 to see clearly through the fog that stretches over our 
 future. Many persons believe Paris, all things considered, 
 to be safer than the country, and I am also of this 
 opinion. I have no fear of a street battle, first, because no 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 183 
 
 SuflScient motive exists ; then that strength and audacity 
 are on the one side, while I see only dullness and cow- 
 ardice on the other. If civil war should break out, it 
 will be first declared in the country, as great irritation has 
 been aroused against the dictatorship of the capital, and 
 perhaps measures, now impossible to foresee, may lead to 
 this result in the West. As to the consequence of the 
 riots, contrast those of the first revolution in Paris with 
 the one two years ago at Buzangais, — more deplorable than 
 all those of '93. Everything passed off quietly yesterday, 
 and we shall have numerous similar processions before any 
 shot will be fired, if indeed that should ever happen in this 
 timid country. 
 
 Paris, May, 1848. — All has passed off well, for the 
 reason that they are such fools that the Chamber, notwith- 
 standing all its faults, has proved to be stronger than 
 they. There are neither killed nor wounded, everything is 
 quiet, and an excellent feeling prevails between the people 
 and the National Guard. The leading insurgents have 
 been arrested, and so many troops are under arms that for 
 some time to come there will be nothing to fear. I have 
 witnessed some highly dramatic scenes. I am worn out 
 with a night's service with the Guards, but, after all, 
 fatigue has its advantage at this time. The happiness of 
 seeing you is as great under the Republic as under the 
 Monarchy, and you must not be avaricious in its bestowal. 
 But the most important, pressing thing to tell you is, that 
 each day I love you more and more, and I should be glad 
 could you summon courage to say the same to me. 
 
 June, 1848. — I returned this morning from a little cam- 
 paign of four days, during which I ran no danger and was 
 enabled to see the horrors of the day and of this country. 
 In the midst of my distress I grieve above all for the folly 
 of France : it is unequaled. I cannot see that it will ever 
 be possible to turn her aside from the savage barbarism in 
 which she shows so strong an inclination to wallow. I 
 hope that your brother is safe : I do not think that his 
 legion was seriously in action. I will hastily relate a 
 
1 84 MfiRIM]&E 
 
 curious incident or two before going to bed. The La 
 Force prison was protected for several hours by the Na- 
 tional Guard and surrounded by the insurgents, who said 
 to the soldiers : " Do not fire on us and we will not fire on 
 you — take care of the prisoners." To watch the battle I 
 entered a house that had just been rescued from the rebels 
 and asked the occupants, " Did they take much from 
 you?" "They stole nothing." Add to this, that I led a 
 woman to the abbey who had employed herself in cutting 
 off the heads of the Guards with her kitchen knife; and 
 that I saw a man whose two arms were red with the 
 blood of a dying soldier whose belly he had ripped up, 
 laving his hands in the gaping wound. Do you begin to 
 understand somewhat of this great nation? What is quite 
 certain is, that we are going headlong to the devil. 
 
 July, 1848. — Paris is, and will be quiet for some time to 
 come. I do not think that the civil, or rather the social 
 war is at an end, but another battle so frightful as the 
 recent one seems impossible, the recurrence of the infinity 
 of circumstances necessary to bring it about not being 
 probable. Of its hideous results which your imagination 
 doubtless paints, you will find but few traces, the glazier 
 and house-painter having already effected their removal ; 
 but you will see many long faces. What can one do? the 
 rdgime is de facto, and we must accustom ourselves to it. 
 By and by we shall cease to think of the morrow, and on 
 awaking in the morning shall be happy in the certainty of 
 an undisturbed evening. The days are long and warm, and 
 as tranquil as could be wished, or rather hoped for under 
 the Republic. All the signs foretell a prolonged truce. The 
 disarming is effected with vigor, and produces good results. 
 One curious symptom is remarked ; namely, that in the 
 insurgent faubourgs any number of informers can be found 
 to point out the hiding-places and even the leaders of the 
 barricades. It is a good sign, you know, when wolves fall 
 to fighting among themselves. The 14th of July passed by 
 very quietly, notwithstanding the sinister predictions with 
 which we were favored. The truth — if it can be discov- 
 ered under the government under which we have the good 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 185 
 
 fortune to live — the truth is, that our chances for tran- 
 quillity have been singularly increased. To bring about the 
 events of June, several years of organization and four months 
 of arming were requisite. A second representation of this 
 bloody tragedy appears to me impossible ; nevertheless, some 
 little plot, several assassinations, and a few riots are still prob- 
 able. We shall have perhaps a half century in which to per- 
 fect ourselves, the one party in the construction of barricades, 
 the other in their destruction. Paris is now being filled 
 with mortars and howitzers, both transportable and effica- 
 cious — a novel argument, and said to be excellent. 
 
 I went yesterday to Saint-Germain to order a dinner for 
 the Society of Bibliophiles, where I found a cook not only 
 capable, but eloquent, who comprehended at once the most 
 fantastic dishes that I proposed. This great man resides in 
 the portion of the palace in which Henry IV. was born, 
 which commands one of the loveliest views in the world, 
 while a few steps bring one to a wood with great trees 
 and magnificent undergrowth. And not a soul to enjoy all 
 this! 
 
 You resemble Antaeus, who renewed his strength in touch- 
 ing the earth. You no sooner touch your native soil than 
 you relapse into your old defects. Your letter does not tell 
 me how long I am to suffer the purgatory of your absence. 
 It was redolent of a perfume so much the more delicious 
 from being familiar to me, and which brings to me so many 
 charming associations. I think of you unceasingly ; even 
 while looking at the fighting at the Bastille my thoughts 
 were of you. 
 
 August, 1848. — This evening while my friend M. Mignet 
 was strolling with Mademoiselle Dosne in the little garden 
 fronting the residence of M. Thiers, a ball came down with- 
 out the least noise, struck the house very near Madame 
 Thiers' s window and glancing thence wounded a little girl 
 seated beyond the garden railing. The ball was quickly 
 extracted, and no ill will ensue save a slight scar: but for 
 whom was it intended ? Mignet ? that is impossible. Made- 
 moiselle Dosne? still more so. Neither Madame nor M. 
 Thiers was at home. No one heard the explosion, the ball 
 
1 86 MERIMEE 
 
 was of regulation size, and air-guns are of a much smaller 
 calibre. I believe it to have been a republican attempt at 
 intimidation, as foolish as all else that is done in this our 
 day. Cavaignac says : " They will kill me, I^amorici^re will 
 succeed me, then Bedeau ; after whom will come the Due d'Isly, 
 who will sweep everything clean. * Does this not strike you 
 as prophetic? No one believes in an intervention in Italy. 
 The Republic will be even rather more cowardly than the Mon- 
 archy ; they may, however, make a pretense of allowing 
 it to be supposed that intervention is probable, hoping by 
 this ruse to obtain a congress, protocols, and a compromise. 
 One of my friends, just returned from Italy, was plundered 
 by the Roman volunteers, who find that travelers are made 
 of better stuff than the Croats. He asserts that it is im- 
 possible to make the Italians fight, with the exception 
 of the Piedmontese. Throw aside your Romaic ; it will 
 be love's labor lost. In vainly trying to learn it I forgot 
 my Greek, and it will play you the same trick. I am sur- 
 prised at your facile comprehension of this gibberish, which 
 as a language, morever, will soon disappear, for Greek is 
 already spoken at Athens, and Romaic will only be used by 
 the lower orders. Since 1841, not a single Turkish word, 
 formerly so frequent, has been heard in the Greece of King 
 Otho. 
 
 Yesterday, at the general competition for prizes, one was 
 awarded to an urchin named I/EROY, whereupon his com- 
 rades exclaimed " Vive le roi ! " 
 
 General Cavaignac who assisted at the ceremony laughed 
 with a very good grace : but the same boy receiving yet 
 another prize, the applause became so uproarious that the 
 general lost countenance and twisted his beard as if he 
 -would pluck it out by the roots. 
 
 August, 1848. — We hear rumors of fresh riots; and now 
 the cholera is coming to complicate matters. M. I<edru is 
 thought to be inciting a disturbance by way of protest 
 against the administrative inquiry. The situation closely 
 resembles that of Rome during Catiline's conspiracy, only 
 there is no Cicero. A most grievous symptom is that Citi- 
 zen Proudhon has a great number of adherents, his little 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 187 
 
 sheets being sold in the faubourgs by thousands — all of 
 which is sad, but to me the ennui of the approaching rain 
 and cold is more serious and much more certain than the 
 riot. I suffer much, and should 'be excessively vexed to 
 die before our breakfast at Saint-Germain. 
 
 lyONDON, June, 1850. — The most decided impression re- 
 ceived from this journey is that the English are individually 
 stupid {bStes), but an admirable people en masse. Every- 
 thing that can be done by the aid of money, good sense, 
 and patience, they do ; but of the arts they have no more 
 notion than my cat. 
 
 The Nepaulese princes are here, with whom you would 
 fall in love. They wear flat turbans bordered with enor- 
 mous pear-shaped emeralds, and are a mass of satin, 
 cashmere, and gold. They are of a deep milk and 
 coffee color, have a good air, and appear to be intelli- 
 gent. 
 
 We are going to Hampton Court to avoid the chances for 
 suicide that the I/5Rd's Day in this city would not fail to offer. 
 I dined yesterday with a bishop and a dean, who have made 
 me even still more a socialist. The bishop belongs to what 
 the Germans call the rationalist school ; he does not even be- 
 lieve what he preaches, and on the strength of his black 
 silk apron enjoys five or six thousand pounds a fyear and 
 passes his time in reading Greek. The women all look as 
 if made of wax ; and wear such expansive bustles that the 
 pavement of Regent Street is only wide enough to hold one 
 woman at a time. I passed yesterday morning in the new 
 House of Commons, which is a frightful monstrosity ; I 
 had previously no conception of what could be accomplished 
 with an utter want of taste and two millions sterling. I 
 have strong fears of becoming a thorough socialist by dint 
 of eating admirable dinners from silver gilt plates, and see- 
 ing persons who win forty thousand pounds sterling at the 
 Epsom races. There is as yet no probability of a revolu- 
 tionary outbreak here. The servility of the lower orders, 
 of which we see each day some fresh example, conflicts 
 with our democratic ideas : it is a question of moment to 
 know if they are more happy. 
 
1 88 MERIMEE 
 
 Salisbury, June, 1850. — I begin to have enough of this 
 region. I am worn out with the perpendicular architecture, 
 and the manners, equally perpendicular, of the natives. I 
 have passed two days at Cambridge and Oxford with the 
 reverends, and, all things considered, I prefer the Capuchins. 
 I am especially furious against Oxford. A Fellow had the 
 insolence to invite me to dinner. There was a fish four 
 inches long, in a great silver dish, and a lamb cutlet in 
 another : all this served in magnificent style, with potatoes 
 in a dish of carved wood. But never was I so hungry. 
 This is the result of the hypocrisy of these people. They 
 like to show their abstinence to foreigners, and, eating 
 luncheon, they do not dine. Were it not broad day at 
 eight o'clock in the evening, one might believe it to be 
 December, which does not hinder the women from going 
 out with open parasol. It is impossible to see anything 
 more ridiculous than an Englishwoman in the hoop that is 
 worn here. 
 
 I have just committed a blunder. I gave half a crown 
 to a man in black who showed me over the cathedral, and 
 then I asked him for the address of a gentleman for whom 
 I had a letter from the dean. He proved to be the very 
 person to whom the letter was addressed. He looked very 
 foolish, and so did I : but he kept the money. 
 
 Who is a Miss Jewsbury, rather red-haired, who writes 
 novels? I met her recently and she told me that she 
 had dreamed all her life of a pleasure that she believed 
 impossible, that of seeing me — verbatim. She has writ- 
 ten a novel entitled " Zoe. " Will you, who read so 
 much, tell me who is this person for whom I am a ro- 
 mance ? 
 
 Paris, June, 1851. — Yesterday I accepted an invitation 
 from the Princess Mathilde to see the Spanish dancers, who 
 are very midiocre. The dance at the Mabille has killed the 
 bolero, and these dames wore such a quantity of crinoline 
 as to prove clearly the encroachment of civilization. A 
 girl and her old duenna amused me by their intense sur- 
 prise at finding themselves beyond the tierra of Jesus ; they 
 were as perfect barbarians as could be desired. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 189 
 
 Paris, December, 1 851.— The last battle, I believe, is 
 now being fought; but who will win? Should the Presi- 
 dent lose, it seems to me that the heroic Deputies should 
 give way to Ledru-Rollin. I have returned home horribly 
 fatigued, and have met none but madmen. The look of 
 Paris recalls that of February, except that now the soldiers 
 are very fierce and terrify the citizens. The military 
 are sure of success, but we understand their almanac. 
 However this may be, we have just escaped a reef and are 
 sailing toward the unknown. 
 
 Paris, 1852. — I am threatened with a lawsuit for con- 
 tempt of court and attack upon the final judgment; while 
 the School of Charts is also sharpening its claws to tear 
 me to pieces, I shall be compelled to undergo an examina- 
 tion and to engage in desperate polemics. In case I fail, 
 try to keep well and come to see me in prison. I do not 
 know whether they will hang me, but I am very fidgetty 
 at the thought of a public ceremony in presence of the 
 very cream of the rabble, and three imbeciles in black 
 gowns as stiff as pickets and convinced of their own im- 
 portance, to whom one cannot dream of expressing one's 
 contempt for their gowns, their person, and their mind. 
 
 May, 1851. — Four days in prison and a thousand francs 
 fine? My lawyer argued well, the judges were civil, and I 
 not at all nervous. I shall not appeal. I pass my time in 
 reading Beyle's correspondence. It has rejuvenated me 
 twenty years. It is as if I were making the autopsy of 
 the thoughts of a man whom I have known intimately 
 and whose ideas respecting men and things had grown 
 singularly colorless by the side of my experience. This 
 renders me sad and gay twenty times within the hour, and 
 makes me regret having burned Beyle's letters to me. 
 
 Carabanchei., 1853. — On arriving here I found prepara- 
 tions for a fiie at which a comedy was to be played and a 
 loa (a dithyrambic dialogue) recited in honor of the lady 
 of the house and her daughter. My services were called 
 into requisition to paint skies, repair decorations, and 
 
I90 MERIM^E 
 
 design costumes, not to enumerate the rehearsals of five 
 mythological goddesses, who on the fatal day looked ex- 
 ceedingly pretty but were overcome with terror. The au- 
 dience applauded warmly, without understanding in the 
 least the nonsensical rigmarole of the poet author of the 
 loa. The comedy was better, and I admire the facility 
 with which the young girls of society transform themselves 
 into passable actresses. During supper a protigi of the 
 Countess improvised some pretty verses that moved the 
 heroine to tears and disposed every one else to drink 
 rather too generously. As there are nine ladies here with- 
 out a gentleman, I am called at Madrid, "Apollo." Of 
 the nine Muses five unfortunately are mothers, but the re- 
 maining four are true born Andalusians with little ferocious 
 airs that are ravishing, especially when in their Oljrmpian 
 costume with peplura, which through love of euphony they- 
 persist in calling ieplo. 
 
 Madrid, October, 1853. — I went yesterday to see Cucharls, 
 the best matador since Montes. The bulls were so indiffer- 
 ent that it was necessary to excite them by little fiery 
 darts. Two men were thrown into the air, and for a mo- 
 ment we thought them dead, which imparted some slight 
 interest to the spectacle ; otherwise everything was detest- 
 able. The bulls no longer have any spirit, and the men 
 are not much better than the bulls. The ugly convent of 
 the Escurial is as sad as when I saw it twenty years ago, 
 but civilization has penetrated its walls and one finds iron 
 bedsteads and cutlets, but no longer fleas and monks. The 
 absence of the latter distinctive element renders Herrera's 
 heavy architecture still more ridiculous. 
 
 I will bring you the garters, which I had diflBculty in 
 finding. Civilization makes such rapid progress that on 
 nearly every leg the elastic has replaced the classic ligas 
 of former days ; and when I asked the chamber-maids to 
 show me a shop where they were sold they indignantly 
 crossed themselves, saying that they no longer wore such 
 obsolete fashions, which were only in use by the common 
 people. Mantillas are nearly as rare; they are superseded 
 by bonnets ; and such bonnets ! 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 191 
 
 I^ast week the f^ie of Saint EugSnis was celebrated at 
 
 the French embassy by a ball, at which Madame , wife 
 
 of the United States Minister, appeared in a costume so 
 designed as to make one split with laughter — black velvet 
 bordered with gold lace and tinsel, and a tawdry diadem. 
 Her son, who looks like a boor, made inquiries respecting 
 the position of the persons present and having obtained 
 satisfactory information sent a challenge to a very noble, 
 very rich duke, a great simpleton, and desirous of living 
 yet a long time. The parley still continues, but no one 
 will be killed. 
 
 I am re-reading " Wilhelm Meister, *' a strange book, in 
 which the finest possible things alternate with the most 
 absurd childishness. In all that Goethe wrote there is a 
 singular mingling of genius and German silliness {niaiserie) : 
 was he laughing at others or at himself ? On my return re- 
 mind me to give you "The Elective Affinities," the oddest, 
 most anti-French of all his works. No one reads at Ma- 
 drid. I have asked myself how the women pass their 
 time when not making love, and I find no plausible reply. 
 They are all thinking of being empresses. A demoiselle of 
 Granada was at the play when it was announced in her 
 box that the Countess de Teba was to marry the Emperor. 
 She rose with impetuosity, exclaiming : *^En ese pueblo no 
 hay parvenir. " * 
 
 The absorbing question here is, whether the Ministry will 
 remain in, or whether there will be a coup d'etat. The 
 house in which I reside is neutral ground, where the Min- 
 isters and leaders of the Opposition meet, which is agree- 
 able for lovers of news. What is called here society is 
 composed of so small a number of persons, that to break 
 up into factions would be fatal. In all public places one is 
 sure of meeting the same three hundred faces, from which 
 results a more amusing and infinitely less hypocritical 
 society than elsewhere. 
 
 It is the custom here to offer in return everything that 
 is praised. At a recent dinner I sat next the Prime Min- 
 ister's fair friend, who is as stupid as a cabbage and ex- 
 cessively stout. She displayed somewhat handsome shoulders, 
 
 * In this country there is no chance of rising. 
 
192 MERIMEE 
 
 on which rested a garland with glass or metal acorns, and 
 not knowing what to say to her, I praised both beads 
 and shoulders, to which she replied : " Todo ese a la dispo- 
 sicion de F"." 
 
 Paris, 1854. — You will find the Sydenham Crystal Pal- 
 ace a vast Noah's Ark, marvelous as to its collection of 
 curious objects, but regarded from an artistic standpoint, per- 
 fectly ridiculous ; yet there is something at once so grand 
 and so simple in its construction that one must go to England 
 to form a conception of it. It is a toy costing twenty-five 
 millions ; a cage in which several churches might waltz ; 
 and to you who are gourmande, I recommend its dinners. 
 
 The last days I passed in I/)ndon interested me. I met 
 socially all the eminent politicians, and was present at the 
 debates on the Supplies in the Houses of Lords and Com- 
 mons, in which the most renowned orators spoke, but in 
 my opinion very abominably. I have brought a pair of 
 garters from I/)ndon. I do not know with what English- 
 women keep up their stockings, nor how they procure this 
 indispensable article, but I believe it to be a very diflScult 
 matter and very trying to their virtue. The shopman who 
 gave me these garters blushed up to the eyes. All the 
 charming things you say to me would be a delight if ex- 
 perience had not taught me to distrust you. I dare not 
 hope for what I desire so ardently. There is something 
 very painful in conforming to your protocols, which, in 
 point of contempt of logic and probability, are worthy of 
 Nesselrode. I returned this morning from Caen. On my 
 arrival there I proceeded to the hall of the I^aw School, 
 where I found about two hundred men and a dozen ladies. 
 I delivered my little discourse without the slightest emo- 
 tion, being very civilly applauded. The ceremonies termi- 
 nated with the reading of some rather good verses by a 
 humpbacked dwarf, immediately after which I was con- 
 ducted by the authorities to the h6tel de ville, where a ban- 
 quet was given in my honor, at which excellent fish and 
 delicious lobsters were enjoyed. At last the hoped-for mo- 
 ment of release came, when to my dismay the President of 
 the Antiquaries arose, every one standing, and proposing 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 193 
 
 my health, referred to me as remarkable in the three qual- 
 ities of senator, a man of letters, and a scientist. Only the 
 table separated us, and I was much inclined to throw a 
 dish of rum jelly at his head. When he spoke I was med- 
 itating my reply, with no apparent possibility of finding a 
 word. I returned thanks, however, in a speech of five 
 minutes, with but a slight idea of what I was saying, 
 which, however, I was assured was very eloquent. But my 
 su£Eerings were not over. I was seized by the mayor and 
 led to a concert of the Philharmonic Society, where I was 
 exhibited to a large number of well dressed people, the 
 women very fair and very pretty , attired much like Par- 
 isians except in a less lavish display of shoulders, and in 
 wearing maroon colored half boots with their ball dress. 
 
 Innspruck, August, 1854. — I am intoxicated with mag- 
 nificent landscapes and panoramas. From Basle to Schaff- 
 hausen, on the right hand and left, are enchanting moun- 
 tains, far finer than those of the lower Rhine so much 
 admired by Englishwomen. At Constance we had capital 
 trout and heard Tyroleans play on the ziTTHER. Thence 
 to this place we have traversed a region of forests, lakes, 
 and mountains of increasing beauty and grandeur, but are 
 overcome with fatigue such as one experiences after exam- 
 ining a fine picture gallery. I am recruiting here with de- 
 licious woodcock and extraordinary soups. The drawback 
 of the journey lies in an ignorance of the manners and 
 ideas of the people, far more interesting to me than all the 
 landscapes. In the Tyrol the women seem to be treated 
 according to their merit. They are harnessed to wagons 
 and easily draw heavy loads, are excessively ugly, with 
 enormous feet ; and the ladies whom I met on the railway 
 and boats are not much better. They wear indecent bon- 
 nets, sky-blue boots with apple-green gloves. It is in great 
 part the above peculiarities that constitute what the natives 
 call gemuth, and of which they are exceedingly vain. It 
 strikes me that the radical deficiency in the works of 
 art of this country is that of imagination, upon which, 
 nevertheless, they pique themselves, falling consequently 
 into the most pretentious extravagances. 
 13 
 
194 MERIMEE 
 
 Pragub, September, 1854. — This city is exceedingly pic- 
 turesque and there is admirable music. Yesterday I strolled 
 through several gardens and public concerts, and saw the 
 national dances performed decently and soberly ; while 
 nothing can be more captivating than a Bohemian orchestra. 
 The physique here differs much from that of Germany ; 
 very large heads, broad shoulders, very small hips, and no 
 legs whatever — that is a picture of Bohemian beauty. We 
 have exhausted our knowledge of anatomy in striving to 
 understand how these women walk. They have, however, 
 fine black eyes, very long and fine black hair, but feet of 
 a length, thickness, and breadth to surprise travelers ac- 
 customed to the most extraordinary sights. Crinoline is 
 unknown. At the public gardens in the evening they drink 
 a bottle of beer, after which they take a cup of coffee, 
 which disposes them to partake of three veal cutlets with 
 ham, the interstices being filled up with some light pastr}' 
 cakes resembling our buns. The blanket of my bed of 
 various pretty colors, is one metre long, to which is but- 
 toned a napkin that serves me for sheet, and when I have 
 arranged that in equilibrium, my servant places over the 
 whole an eider down coverlet which I pass the night in 
 throwing down and replacing. 
 
 Vienna, October, 1854. — Really, this good city is an 
 agreeable place of sojourn, and it requires a certain degree 
 of courage to leave it, now that I have learned to enjoy 
 sauntering about its pleasant places, and have made many 
 friends. We are agitated by news from the Crimea. Is 
 Sebastopol taken ? It is believed so here ; and the Austri- 
 ians, with the exception of a few ancient families who are 
 Russian at heart, congratulate us. God grant that the 
 news may not be an invention such as the telegraph de- 
 lights in when at leisure. However it may be, I think it 
 a fine thing that our troops, six days after landing, should 
 have pommeled the Russians so vigorously. We enjoy the 
 looks of the Russians now here. Prince Gortschakoff says 
 that it is an " incident * that will effect no change as to 
 the principles. The Belgian Minister, the wit of Vienna, 
 says that Gortschakoff is right to intrench himself behind 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 195 
 
 principles, because they are never taken with the bayonet. 
 A propos of wit, willing or unwilling, I have been made a 
 LION. Society here being so gemuthlich, everything that a 
 Frenchman says is accepted as wit. I am thought very 
 amiable. I write sublime thoughts in albums, I make draw- 
 ings, in a word I have been perfectly ridiculous. I passed 
 three days at Pesth, where my modesty suffered in being 
 shown a public bath, in which Hungarian men and women 
 were together in the hot mineral water. I saw one beauti- 
 ful Hungarian who hid her face with her hands ; in this 
 unlike the Turkish women, who wear the chemise for that 
 purpose. I have heard Bohemian musicians play very 
 original Hungarian airs that intoxicate the natives. The 
 music begins lugubriously and ends with a mad gayety 
 that quickly spreads to the audience, who stamp, break the 
 glasses, and dance on the table ; but foreigners are not af- 
 fected by these phenomena. Magnificent furs are obtained 
 here for a trifle — the only barga,ins in the country. I am 
 ruined by hack hire and dinner parties. The custom is to 
 pay the domestics who serve the dinner, and the hall por- 
 ter ; in fact one pays at every turn. 
 
 I^ONDON, July, 1856. — I am about to visit a real Scotch 
 chieftain, who has never worn any breeches, has no stair- 
 case in his house, but maintains a bard and a seer. I find 
 the people here so amiable, so pressing, so monopolizing, 
 that my arrival is evidently a relief to their ennui. Yester- 
 day I saw two of my former beauties ; the one has become- 
 asthmatic, the other a Methodist. I have also made the 
 acquaintance of eight or ten poets, who struck me as 
 rather more ridiculous even than our own. 
 
 Edinburgh. — I have passed three days at the Duke of 
 Hamilton's, in an immense castle, and a very fine country. 
 At no great distance is a herd of wild oxen, said to be the 
 only ones now remaining in Europe, but which appeared to 
 me as tame as the deer at Paris. Throughout this castle 
 are pictures by the great masters, magnificent Greek and 
 Chinese vases, and richly bound books from the greatest 
 collections of the last century. All this is arranged without 
 
196 MERIMEE 
 
 taste, and one sees that it affords the proprietor but small 
 enjoyment. I now understand why the French are so much 
 in request in foreign countries ; they take pains to be amused, 
 and in so doing amuse others. I found myself the most 
 entertaining person of the very numerous society assembled, 
 and was at the same time conscious of being rather the re- 
 verse. I find Edinburgh altogether to my taste with the 
 exception of the execrable architecture of the monuments, 
 the claim of which to be Greek is about as well founded 
 as an Englishwoman's pretension to be a Parisian because 
 her toilets are prepared by Madame Vignon. The accent 
 of the natives is odious to me. The women, as a rule, are 
 very ugly. The country necessitates short skirts, and they 
 conform to the fashion and to the exigencies of the climate, 
 by holding up their gown with both hands, a foot above 
 the petticoat, displaying sinewy legs and half-boots of rhi- 
 noceros leather, with feet to match. I am shocked at the 
 proportion of red-haired women whom I meet. 
 
 August, 1856, at a country house near Glasgow. — I lead a 
 pleasant life, going from chdteau to chdteau, and every- 
 where entertained with a hospitality for which I despair of 
 finding adequate expression, and which is only practicable 
 in this aristocratic country. I am contracting bad habits. 
 ■The guest here of poor people who have little more than 
 thirty thousand pounds a year, I have thought myself not 
 sufSciently honored because of dining without wind instru- 
 ments and a piper in grand costume. 
 
 At the Marquis of Breadalbane's I passed three days in 
 driving about the park. There are about two thousand 
 deer, besides eight or ten thousand in his forests not ad- 
 jacent to the castle. There are also, for the sake of singu- 
 larity, at which every one aims here, a herd of American 
 buffaloes, very fierce, inclosed in a peninsula, and which one 
 goes to look at through the palings. Every one there. Mar- 
 quis and buffalo, had the air of being bored. I believe that 
 their pleasure consists in making people envious, and I doubt 
 whether this compensates for the pother of playing innkeeper 
 to all sorts of people. Amid all this luxury, I observe, from 
 time to time, bits of stinginess which amuse me. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 197 
 
 KiNLOCH-IyiNCHARD, August, 1 856. — I begin to be sati- 
 ated with grouse and venison. The truly remarkable 
 scenery has still a charm for me, but my curiosity is satis- 
 fied. What I am not weary of admiring is, the bristling 
 attitude the people here maintain : being chained together at 
 the galleys even would not make them more sociable. This 
 arises from their fear of being "caught in the act of being 
 stupid,* as Beyle says, or rather an organization that in- 
 clines them to prefer selfish pleasures. We arrived here at 
 the same time with two gentlemen and a middle-aged woman 
 accustomed to high society, and who had traveled. At din- 
 ner the thick ice necessarily thawed ; but in the evening 
 the husband took up a newspaper, the wife a book, the 
 other gentleman began to write letters, while I was left to 
 play a single-handed game against my hosts. I am told 
 that the Celtic race (who live in frightful holes near the 
 palace in which I am a guest) know how to talk. The 
 fact is, I fancy, that on market day a continual noise of 
 animated voices, laughter and shouts, is heard. Gaelic is 
 very soft. In England and the Lowlands, complete si- 
 lence. 
 
 CARABACiSL, December, 1856. — I have been besieged by 
 Russian and English cards, and have been ofEered a presen- 
 tation to the Grand Duchess Helen, an honor that I point- 
 edly declined. To furnish us with gossip we have a Countess 
 Apraxine, who smokes, wears round hats, and keeps 
 a goat in her salon, which she has strewn with grass. But 
 the most amusing person is Lady Shelley who commits 
 some fresh drollery every day. Yesterday she wrote to the 
 
 French Consul : « Lady S informs M. P that she 
 
 has a charming dinner party of English people to-day, and 
 she will be delighted to see him afterward, at five minutes 
 past nine o'clock." She wrote to Madame Vigier, ex-Mad- 
 emoiselle Cruvelli : « Lady Shelley would be charmed to see 
 Madame Vigier if she would be good enough to bring her 
 music with her." To which the ex-Cruvelli immediately 
 replied : " Madame Vigier would be charmed to see Lady 
 Shelley, if she would be good enough to come to her house 
 and behave as a lady." 
 
198 MERIMEE 
 
 London, British Museum, 1858. — You can form no con- 
 ception of the beauty of the Museum on Sunday when there 
 is no one present except M. Panizzi and myself; it seems 
 to be permeated by a marvelous atmosphere of thought. 
 Last Wednesday I fell into rather a droll scrape. I was 
 invited to the Literary Fund dinner presided over by Lord 
 Palmerston, and at the moment of setting out was notified 
 that I should be expected to make a speech, as my name 
 would be associated with a toast to the literature of Con- 
 tinental Europe. I was victimized with a satisfaction that 
 you may imagine, and during fifteen minutes uttered non- 
 sense in bad English before an assemblage of three hundred 
 literary men, and a hundred women admitted to the honor 
 of seeing us eat stringy chickens and tough tongue. I have 
 never been so saturated with foolishness, as Pourceaugnac 
 says. 
 
 Yesterday I received a visit from a gentleman and wife 
 who brought me a number of autograph letters from Na- 
 poleon to Josephine, which they wished to sell. They are 
 exceedingly curious in the fact of touching on nothing but 
 love, and are doubtless authentic ; but it is diflScult to 
 understand why Josephine did not burn them as soon as 
 read. 
 
 Pai<ACE of FonTainebleau, May, 1858. — I am excess- 
 ively annoyed and half poisoned from having taken too 
 much laudanum ; in addition to which I have written verses 
 for His Majesty of the Netherlands, played charades, and 
 « made a fool of myself " generally. Shall I describe the 
 life we lead here? Yesterday we took a stag and dined on 
 the grass ; the other day we were all drenched with rain ; 
 every day we eat too much, and I am completely exhausted. 
 Destiny did not fashion me for a courtier. I shall try to 
 snatch a little sleep while awaiting the fatal hour of get- 
 ting under arms, which is to say, donning tights. How 
 much I should prefer to stroll through this fine forest 
 with you, chatting of fairy-land. I am exceedingly vexed 
 with your ridiculous prudery. The book in question has 
 the misfortune to be badly written, that is to say, in an 
 enthusiastic tone that Sainte-Beuve extols as poetic, so 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 199 
 
 much do tastes differ. One does not, when possessed of 
 your taste, exclaim that it is frightful, immoral, but finds all 
 that is good in the volume very good. You allow your 
 prejudice to sway your judgment, and each day you grow 
 more prudish, more in consonance with the affectation of 
 the age. Your crinoline I overlook, but not your prudery. 
 
 Vbnicb, August, 1858. — Venice filled me with sadness. I 
 have been moved to indignation by all the commonplaces 
 uttered of the architecture of the palaces, which is effective, 
 but destitute of taste and imagination. The canals resemble 
 the Bievre, and the gondola an inconvenient hearse. The 
 pictures of the second-rate masters at the Academy pleased 
 me ; but there is not a Paul Veronese worth " The Marriage 
 of Cana," not a Titian to be compared with "Christ with 
 the Tribute Money '' at Dresden, or even " The Crown of 
 Thorns" at Paris. On the other hand, I am pleased with 
 the physiognomy of the people. The streets swarm with 
 charming girls with bare feet and head, who, if bathed and 
 scrubbed, would serve as models for the Venus Anadyo- 
 mene. I was present at an amusing funzione in honor of 
 the Archduke. A serenade was given, six hundred gon- 
 dolas following the colossal boat that carried the music, all 
 bearing lanterns and burning red and blue Bengal lights, 
 which touched the palaces on the grand canal with a magical 
 tint. In passing the Rialto no gondola would draw back, nor 
 give way, so that the mass formed a solid bridge, and at every 
 moment was heard the crash of collision and breaking oars ; 
 but an observable feature was, that amid all the excitement 
 of the throng, which in France would have led to a general 
 battle, no abusive language was heard, not even a cross 
 word. These people are made of milk and maize. To-day I 
 saw a monk, in the middle of St. Mark's Square, fall on 
 his knees before an Austrian corporal about to arrest him. 
 There was never anything more pitiable, and in front of the 
 lion of St. Mark ! 
 
 In a pretty villa on the banks of Lake Como I saw 
 Madame Pasta, whom I had not met since her palmy days 
 at the Italian Opera. She has singularly increased in size, 
 cultivates cabbages, and says that she is as happy as 
 
20O MfiRIM^E 
 
 when crowns and sonnets showered on her. We discussed 
 the theatre, music, and she remarked, justly, that since 
 Rossini, no opera had been composed in which there was 
 unity of thought and treatment. 
 
 Chatbau d:s Compi^gne, November, 1858. — This morn- 
 ing I saw my friend Sandeau in the frame of mind natural 
 to one who has appeared in knee-breeches the first time. 
 He asked me a hundred questions with a naiveti that 
 alarmed me. We have had great men from over the Chan- 
 nel, Russians and the Ministers, but the greater part of the 
 guests took their departure yesterday, and we are left en 
 petit comiti, that is to say, we are but thirty or forty at 
 table. One cannot sleep in this place. The time is passed 
 in being frozen or roasting, and this has given me an irri- 
 tation of the chest that exhausts me. But it is impossible 
 to imagine a more amiable host or a more gracious hostess. 
 When I think that I could have seen you to-day in Paris, 
 I am tempted to fly from here ; and also to hang myself 
 at your resignation : a virtue that I do not possess, and 
 which enrages me in others. Nothing is easier here than 
 to absent one's self from breakfast, or the morning walk, 
 but dinner is the momentous ceremony ; and when I spoke 
 to the old courtiers of my intention to dine in town, they 
 frowned in such evident consternation that I saw it must 
 not be thought of. 
 
 Cannes, January, 1859. — There are great numbers of 
 English here. I dined yesterday with I^ord Brougham and 
 I know not how many Misses freshly arrived from Scot- 
 land, whom the sight of the sun appeared greatly to surprise. 
 Had I the talent to describe costumes, I could amuse you 
 with those of these ladies ; you have never seen anything 
 to parallel it since the invention of crinoline. 
 
 I have just read the " Memoirs of Catherine II. , " which 
 presents a strange picture of the people and courts of that 
 period. Catherine on her marriage with the Grand Duke, 
 afterward Peter III., had a quantity of diamonds and 
 superb brocaded robes, and for her lodgings a chamber that 
 served as a passageway for her women, who, to the num- 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 201 
 
 ber of seventeen, slept in a single room next that of the 
 queen. There is not to-day a grocer's wife who does not 
 live more comfortably than the empresses of a hundred 
 years ago. Catherine gives us sufficient strong reasons for 
 believing Paul I. to be the son of Prince Soltikoff ; and the 
 curious thing is, that the manuscript in which she narrates 
 these fine histories was addressed to her son, this same 
 Paul, an animal for whom strangling was the best mode of 
 suppression. I am glad that my critique on Mr. Prescott 
 has pleased you. I am not altogether satisfied with it as 
 I only expressed half of what I should like to say, acting 
 on the aphorism of Philip II.: that one must say only 
 good of the dead. In fact, the work is only of slight 
 interest, and not above mediocrity. It strikes me that had 
 the author been less Yankee, he could have done some- 
 thing better. We have marvelous moonlight, the sea like 
 glass, and the heat of June. I am more and more con- 
 vinced that heat is my great restorative. When it rains I 
 have horrible spasms : as soon as the sun returns Richard 
 is himself again. Cannes is becoming too civilized : one of 
 the loveliest walks is to be destroyed for the railway ; we 
 shall become the prey of Marseilles, and the picturesque 
 will be lost. 
 
 Paris, April, 1859. — The war in Italy will be sharp, but 
 not long ; the financial state of the world could not allow 
 it ; and after the first shock I hope that England will 
 intervene. Austria has no mone}', and many persons be- 
 lieve her motive to be simply a pretext for declaring her 
 bankruptcy. Our people are warlike and confident, the 
 soldiers gay and sanguine. There is an enthusiasm, a 
 buoyancy in our army, in which the Austrians are totally 
 deficient. I/ittle of an optimist as I may be, I have full 
 faith in our success. Our reputation is so well established 
 that those who fight against us enter into it with little 
 heart. A Russian alliance is still spoken of, in which I have 
 no faith, for Russia has nothing to lose in the quarrel, and 
 however it may terminate she will find it to be to her ad- 
 vantage : meanwhile she amuses herself with panslavist 
 intrigues among the Austrian subjects, who regard the 
 
202 MERIMEE 
 
 Emperor Alexander as their Pope. The Austrians are said to 
 wear a modest, somewhat shamefaced air. The mass of our 
 people are intensely interested and ofEer vows for success. 
 The salons, especially those of the Orleanists, are perfectly 
 anti-French and arch fools, who imagine that they will 
 float back with the tide, and that their burgraves will re- 
 sume the thread of their discourse that was snapped in 
 1848. Poor people ! who do not understand that after this 
 will come division, a republic, and anarchy. Germany is 
 bawling against us ; a mere jet of underlying red liberalism 
 which just now assumes the Teutonic form. Russia is a 
 terrible ally who would devour Germany, but who would 
 gain for us England's ill-will, and perhaps hostility. We 
 have so long led a sybaritic life as to ignore the emotions 
 of our fathers ; but we must now return to their philosophy. 
 Our troops, rest assured, will be well taken care of, and 
 will eat macaroni stupendi while the Austrians will some- 
 times find verdigris in, their soup. Were I a young man, 
 an Italian campaign would be to me the most attractive 
 way of seeing a spectacle always noble — the awaking of an 
 oppressed people. 
 
 Paris, May, 1859. — Germany is still fermenting, which 
 will result, aparently, rather in beer drinking than in blood 
 shedding. Prussia resists to her utmost the pressure of the 
 Franzosenfresser, and proclaims her intention to retake not 
 only Alsace, but also the German provinces of Russia. This 
 last jest would indicate that this Teutonic enthusiasm is nei- 
 ther serious nor well-considered. M. Yvan Tourguenieff, 
 who comes direct from Moscow, says that all Russia is 
 offering prayers for us, and that the army would be de- 
 lighted to have a brush with the Austrians, whom, the 
 priests are preaching, God will punish for their persecution 
 of the orthodox Greeks of Sclavonic race ; and subscriptions 
 are open to send Sclavonic Bibles and tracts to the Croats 
 to preserve them from papal heresy. This looks very like 
 a political propaganda of panslavism. 
 
 A strong attack is now being organized against the Derby 
 Ministry. Lord Palmerston and Lord John would be recon- 
 ciled — rather an improbable event — or still more unlikely 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 203 
 
 would unite for the destruction of the present Cabinet. 
 The radicals will support them. Whatever may be the 
 issue, we shall gain little by the change. I/3rd Pal- 
 merston, though the main promoter of the Italian agitation, 
 would no more uphold it than would Lord Derby, only he 
 would treat Austria with less consideration and would not 
 seek to embarrass us. The wiseacres announce that all 
 Europe will intervene : not improbable ; but after the fa- 
 mous phrase Sin. all ' Adriatico, how can we leave Italy only 
 half-delivered? How hope that a young emperor, suckled 
 and governed by the Jesuits, beaten and in a bad humor, 
 should confess his folly and ask pardon ! Would not the 
 Italians, who until now have been circumspect, be goaded 
 into every imaginable imprudence pending the negotia- 
 tions ? 
 
 Paris, July, 1859. — You alone reconcile me to the Peace. 
 Perhaps it was necessary ; but on the whole what matters 
 to us the liberty of a parcel of smokers and musicians? 
 We heard this evening the Emperor's speech, which was 
 well delivered, with a grand air, an air of frankness and 
 good faith : there is sense and truth in it. The returning 
 officers say that the Italians are brawlers and cowards ; 
 that only the Piedmontese can fight, who, however, pretend 
 that we were in their way, and that without us they could 
 have done better. The Empress asked me in Spanish what 
 I thought of the speech ; to which I replied, combining 
 candor with courtesy : " Muy necesario. " 
 
 Paris, 1859. — I am reading the "Letters of Madame du 
 DefiEand." They are very amusing, giving an excellent 
 picture of the society of her day, which was very amiable 
 and somewhat frivolous. A striking contrast to the present 
 era is manifest in their general and earnest endeavor to 
 please; as also in the sincerity and fidelity of their affec- 
 tions. They were more obliging people than ourselves, and 
 especially than you, whom I no longer love. 
 
 Paris, September, 1859. — The other day I met Edmond 
 About, who is always charming. He resides at Saverne 
 
204 MERIMEE 
 
 and passes his life in the woods, where a month ago he 
 encountered a singular animal walking on all fours, wear- 
 ing a black coat and varnished boots without soles. It 
 proved to be a professor from Angoul^me, who had been 
 driven to the Baden gambling table by conjugal unhappi- 
 ness, where he lost everything. Returning to France through 
 the forests he missed his way and had eaten nothing for 
 eight days. About carried and dragged him to a village 
 where he was supplied with linen and food, but he sur- 
 vived only a short time. When the man-animal lives in 
 solitude for a certain period, and reaches a certain state of 
 physical dilapidation, it appears that he walks on all fours. 
 About assures me that this chef-d' ceuvre makes a very ugly 
 animal. 
 
 You are growing stout and brown with the sun : but 
 however you may be, fat or thin, I shall love you always 
 tenderly. I have frightful spasms, am still ill, and suspect 
 that I am on the great railway leading beyond the tomb. 
 At some moments this thought is painful, at others I find 
 the consolation that one experiences on the railway — the 
 absence of responsibility in the presence of a superior and 
 irresistible power. 
 
 Paris, September 15, 1859. — I was summoned from 
 Tarbes by lettei to Saint-Sauveur to pass the day, my 
 visit being returned by their majesties; which occasioned a 
 great disturbance in M. Fould's household, Madame Fould 
 improvising a dinner and breakfast, taxing to the utmost 
 the resources of the little village. Their majesties were in 
 excellent health and capital spirits at Saint-Sauveur, and I 
 admired the natives, who had the good taste to leave them 
 entirely to themselves. The Emperor has bought a dog 
 rather larger than a donkey, of the ancient Pyrenean breed : 
 a magnificent brute which climbs rocks like a chamois. 
 
 Madrid, October, 1859. — Everything here is changed. 
 The ladies whom I left as thin as spindles have become 
 elephants, the climate of Madrid having a very fattening 
 quality. Not only the manners, but the picturesque aspect 
 of old Spain are notably altered by politics and a parlia- 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 205 
 
 nientary government. At this moment nothing is discussed 
 but war, the question of avenging the national honor ex- 
 citing a general enthusiasm that recalls the Crusades. It 
 is imagined that the Knglish view the African expedition 
 with displeasure and even wish to prevent it, which re- 
 doubles the warlike ardor. The army wish to lay siege to 
 Gibraltar, after taking Tangiers ! 
 
 Cannes, i860. — Baron Bunsen is here with his two 
 daughters, both mounted on crane's feet, with ankles re- 
 sembling the club of Hercules; one of the young ladies, 
 however, sings very well. Bunsen is clever enough and 
 knows the news, of which you keep me but ill-informed. 
 
 I have read the pamphlet by Abb6 , which strikes me 
 
 as even more clumsy than violent. He must be thought 
 an enfant terrible at Rome, where neither good sense nor 
 finesse is lacking, and where the priests are skillful intrigu- 
 ers. Ours have the national blustering instinct, and are 
 devoid of tact. 
 
 Here is a nice little incident characteristic of this region. 
 A farmer in the neighborhood of Grasse is found dead in 
 a ravine where he had fallen or been thrown during the 
 night. Another farmer comes to see a friend and tells him 
 that he has killed tl;e man. "How? and why?" "Be- 
 cause he cast a spell over my sheep; then I asked the 
 advice of my shepherd, who gave me three needles to boil 
 in a pot, over which I pronounced the words he taught 
 me. The same night that I put the pot on the fire the 
 man died." Do not be surprised should my books be 
 burned in the church square at Grasse. 
 
 The recent brochure by my colleague Villemain, is singu- 
 larly vapid. When one has attempted to write a book 
 against the Jesuits, and has boasted of being the defender 
 of liberty of conscience against the omnipotence of the 
 Church, it is droll to hurl forth a recantation and to sup- 
 port it by such feeble argument. I believe that every one 
 lias gone mad, except the Emperor, who reminds one of 
 the shepherds of the Middle Ages wjiose magic flute in- 
 spired the wolves to dance. I am seriously told that the 
 French Academy, which has been markedly Voltairean these 
 
2o6 MERIMEE 
 
 few years past, wishes to nominate Ahh6 Lacordaire as a. 
 protest against the violence to which the Pope is subjected. 
 The matter is really one of perfect indifference to me. So 
 long as I shall not be compelled to listen to their sermons, 
 all the members of the Sacred College may be nominated 
 to the Academy. 
 
 I have been on a little excursion in the region of eternal 
 snow, where I saw fine rocks, cascades, and precipices, and 
 a great subterranean cavern of unknown extent, supposed 
 to be inhabited by all the gnomes and devils of the Alps. 
 In fact, I passed a week in the enjoyment of pure nature 
 and lumbago. We have here a Siberian wind, and this 
 morning some snow-flakes fell before my window ; an un- 
 heard-of scandal in the memory of the oldest inhabitant of 
 Cannes. I am ill, melancholy, wearied. My sight is fail- 
 ing and I can no longer sketch. What a sad thing is this 
 growing old ! Bulwer's novel, "What will He do with It?" 
 appears to me senile to the last degree ; nevertheless it 
 contains some pretty scenes and has a very good moral. 
 As to the hero and heroine, they transcend in silliness 
 the limits of romance. A book that has amused me is a 
 work by M. de Bunsen on the origin of Christianity and 
 on EVERYTHING, to Speak more exactly ; but it styles it- 
 self : "Christianity and Mankind." M. de Bunsen, though 
 calling himself a Christian, has little respect for the Old 
 and New Testaments. 
 
 Paris, May, i860.— The ball at the H6tel d'Albe was 
 superb ; the costumes were very fine, many of the women 
 very pretty, and typifying the audacity of the age being 
 dScolleties in the most outrageous fashion both as to skirt 
 and waist. During the waltz I saw a number of charming 
 feet and many garters. Crinoline is declining. Be assured 
 that within two years dresses will be worn very short, and 
 the natural advantages of those so fortunate as to possess 
 them will be distinguished from artificial charms. Some of 
 the Englishwomen passed belief. The captivating daughter 
 
 of I^ord represented a Dryad, or some mythological 
 
 personage, in a dress that would have left the entire bust 
 exposed but for the semi-veil of a sort of swaddling band. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 207 
 
 It was nearly as conspicuous as the scanty drapery of the 
 Mamma. The ballet of the Elements was danced by six- 
 teen quite pretty women in short petticoats and covered 
 with diamonds. The Naiads were powdered with silver, 
 which, falling on their shoulders, resembled drops of water. 
 
 The Salamanders were powdered with gold; one among 
 them. Mademoiselle Errazu, being wondrously beautiful. 
 The Princess Mathilde, painted a deep bistre, personated a 
 Nubian, and was much too exact in costume. In the midst 
 
 of the ball, a domino embraced Madame S , who uttered 
 
 loud screams. The dining-room with its surrounding gal- 
 lery, the servants in their dresses as pages of the sixteenth 
 century, and the electric light, recalled Martin's picture of 
 Belshazzar's Feast. The Emperor changed his domino in 
 vain ; he would have been recognized at a league distant. 
 The Empress wore a white bournous and black velvet 
 mask, which did not disguise her in the least. There were 
 
 many foolish dominos ; the Due de walking about as 
 
 a tree, — an excellent imitation. At the ball given by M. 
 Aligre, a wife was pinched black and blue by her ferocious 
 husband. The wife screamed and fainted ; general tabeau ! 
 The jealous idiot was not thrown out of the window, which 
 would have been the only sensible thing to do. At a re- 
 cent masked ball a lady had the temerity to appear in a 
 costume of 1806, without crinoline, which produced a great 
 sensation. These are fine commentaries on the times and 
 women. 
 
 An amusing incident occurred lately. M. Boitelle, Pre- 
 fect of Police, who should certainly be the best informed 
 man in Paris, learned through the reports of faithful 
 agents that M. Fould, the Minister of State, had gone to 
 sleep in his newly-built house in the Faubourg Saint- 
 Honor^. Very early in the morning the Prefect appeared, 
 pressed the Minister's hand very demonstratively, explain- 
 ing the important part he had taken in what had just oc- 
 curred. M. Fould thought that he referred to his son, 
 who is committing follies in England. This quid pro quo 
 lasted until the Prefect asked permission to know the name 
 of his successor in the Cabinet, to which M. Fould replied, 
 that he had come to his new residence merely as a house- 
 
2o8 MERIMEE 
 
 warming, and had found it more convenient to sleep there 
 than at the Ministerial palace. 
 
 It appears that lyamorici^re is already somewhat weary of 
 the imbroglio that greets him in the papal territory. Car- 
 dinal Antonelli remarked a short time ago to a foreign 
 minister, that he had never met a man of more compre- 
 hensive mind than Lamoriciere. " I have discussed the 
 intricate situation of affairs with him, for which he imme- 
 diately suggested five or six remedies ; and he talks so 
 well, that within the hour he gave me four different 
 opinions on the same question, all so strongly fortified that 
 I am perplexed as to a choice." Every one here is pre- 
 occupied by Garibaldi's expedition, which will, it is feared, 
 result in a general complication. Should he break his back 
 in Sicily, I think that perhaps M. de Cavour would not be 
 too much distressed, but if he succeed, he will become ten 
 times more dangerous. 
 
 Read Granier de Cassagnac's book on the Girondins. 
 Portions of it are exceedingly curious, and it presents a 
 horrible picture of the massacres and revolutionary atroc- 
 ities: all written with much fire and vigor. Three days 
 ago I received a visit from M. Feydeau, who is a very 
 fine fellow, but artlessly betrays an extreme vanity. He is 
 going to Spain to complement what Cervantes and I^esage 
 have merely outlined ! He has still thirty romances to 
 write, the scene of which will be laid in thirty different 
 countries ; this is why he travels. I think of you inces- 
 santly in spite of your faults. 
 
 Paris, July, i860. — The funeral of Prince Jerome was a 
 terrible ceremony. I do not know how many vacancies it 
 has created in our ranks, but fear that only the under- 
 takers have profited by it. More than thirty thousand 
 persons came to sprinkle holy water, which shows the 
 flunkyism of this high-minded nation ! It is even more 
 senseless than is supposed, and that is saying much. You 
 lost a fine spectacle, that of seeing me in fiocchi and black 
 gloves, pass through the Rue de Rivoli amid the admiring 
 populace. We were one hour and three quarters in defil- 
 ing between the Palais Royal and the Invalides, then came 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 209 
 
 the mass, then the funeral oration by Abb6 Coeur, who 
 praised the principles of '89, while declaring our soldiers to 
 be ready to die in defense of the Pope. He also said that 
 the first Napoleon had no love for war, but was always 
 forced to the defensive. The finest part of the ceremony 
 was a De profundis chanted in the vault, and which we 
 heard through black crape that separated us from the 
 grave. Were I a musician I would profit in opera by the 
 admirable effect of this crape in modifying sound. 
 
 The Orleanists pretend that M. Br^nier has been knocked 
 in the head by an uncivil husband ; but the more credible 
 rumor is that the lazzaroni have thus sought to avenge the 
 violence offered to their king. The liberals, in retaliation, 
 have assassinated the police, which has been of much 
 benefit to M. Br6nier. The northern Italians have not the 
 quick sensibility of the Neapolitans. They have logic and 
 common sense, as Stendhal said, while the Neapolitans are 
 merely badly trained children. 
 
 In the evening every one goes to the Champs-Elys6es to 
 hear Musard's music ; fine ladies and lorettes mingled pell- 
 mell, and are difficult to distinguish one from the other. 
 And people go to the circus to see the learned dogs roll a 
 ball up an inclined plane by leaping on it ! This genera- 
 tion is losing all taste for intellectual pleasures. 
 
 South Paradb, Bath, August, i860. — Such a life as 
 mine here would make a thorough-bred horse broken- 
 winded : in the morning, walks, shopping, and visiting ; in 
 the evening, dinners with the aristocrats, where I always 
 find the same dishes and nearly the same faces. I could 
 hardly remember the names of my hosts, for in their white 
 cravats and black coats, all Englishmen look very much 
 alike. We are extremely detested here, and still more 
 dreaded. Nothing is more droll than the fear they have of 
 us, which they are at no pains to disguise. The volunteers 
 are even more stupid than the National Guard was with us 
 in 1830 ; for in this country everything is invested with an 
 air of gravity not to be seen elsewhere. I know a very 
 honest fellow sixty years of age, who drills every day in 
 Zouave breeches. The Ministry is very weak and does 
 14 
 
2IO MERIMEE 
 
 not know its own mind, and the Opposition is not more 
 wise. But great and small agree in believing that we covet 
 general annexation. At the same time, there is no one 
 who supposes a war to be possible, unless the question of 
 annexing the three kingdoms should be agitated. I am not 
 very well pleased with the Emperor's letter to M. de Per- 
 signy. It would have been much better in my opinion, to 
 say nothing at all, or simply to tell them what I repeat 
 every evening : that they are great fools. 
 
 London, i8 Arlington Street, i860. — Only after some 
 time in London do I accustom myself to its singular light, 
 which seems to pass through brown gauze, the effect being 
 that of an eclipse. This atmospheric peculiarity and the 
 curtainless windows will annoy me for some days to come ; 
 but on the other hand I am regaling on all manner of 
 good things, breakfasting and dining like an ogre. 
 
 It is evident that the affairs of the East are becoming 
 more complicated every moment. The disembarking of the 
 French in Syria would be followed by a general explosion 
 of massacre and pillage throughout the East ; very probably, 
 also, the Turkish provinces of Greece — that is to say, 
 Thessaly, Macedonia, and Christian Albania — would be ex- 
 cited to retaliation. Everything will be on fire this winter 
 in the East, and to visit Algeria at such a moment seems 
 to me perfect madness. The " Times " to-day announces 
 four feet of snow at Inverness. Shall I find enough char- 
 coal and plaids in Scotland to remedy this evil? 
 
 Glenquoich, August, i860. — The weather here is always 
 detestable, but it does not hinder people from going out. 
 They are so accustomed to rain, that unless it be of ex- 
 traordinary violence they are not deterred from walking. 
 The paths are sometimes torrents, and the mountains are 
 invisible within a hundred paces ; but these people return, 
 saying "Beautiful walk." One of the greatest annoyances 
 of this region is a little fly called midge, which is exceed- 
 ingly venomous ; and though there are two young ladies 
 here, the one blonde, the other red-haired, and both with 
 skin of satin, these horrible insects prefer to attack me. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 211 
 
 Our chief amusement is fishing, and fortunately the insects 
 do not venture on the lake. There are fourteen persons 
 here. During the day each one goes his own way ; in 
 the evening, after dinner, each one takes a book or 
 writes letters. To chat and seek to amuse each other is a 
 thing unknown to the English. The Highland air has 
 benefited me, and I breathe more easily. Our hunters kill 
 deer and grouse ; and every day we have excellent birds ; 
 but I cannot eat, the main pleasure amid this rain and 
 fog ; and I sigh for a soupe maigre, or for a solitary dinner 
 at home, or with you at Saint-Cheron : this last wish will 
 never be realized, I fear. 
 
 Paris, September, i860. — Panizzi has been with me for 
 ten days, and I am acting cicerone, showing him every- 
 thing, from cedar to hyssop. I understand nothing of the 
 disorders that have begun. My guest thinks that the Pope 
 and the Austrians will be driven out. For the first, ap- 
 pearances are unfavorable ; as to the others, I believe that 
 if Garibaldi meddles with them he will burn his fingers. 
 From Naples comes a royal philosophical witticism. Pre- 
 vious to embarking, His Majesty received, every five min- 
 utes, the resignation of a general or an admiral : "• Now 
 they are too thoroughly Italians to fight against Garibaldi ; 
 a month hence they will be too much of royalists to fight 
 against the Austrians." It would be impossible for you to 
 imagine the fury of the Orleanists and Carlists. A rather 
 sensible Italian tells me that M. de Cavour caused the Sar- 
 dinian army to enter the States of the Church, because 
 Mazzini was about to incite a revolution there. 
 
 I hear that the fites at Marseilles in the Imperial honor 
 were very fine : that the enthusiasm was at once deliberate 
 and clamorous, and that perfect order was maintained not- 
 withstanding the immense, overexcited Southern multitude. 
 The spectacle of the Marseillaise, in their ordinary state, is 
 always sufiSciently amusing, but, when under excitement, 
 they must be still more absurd. But they not only lost 
 their heads on the occasion of the Emperor's visit, but also 
 two barrels of Spanish wine that I have been expecting. 
 The merchant who should have received them writes to me 
 
212 MERIMEE 
 
 very naively, that he was too much occupied with the fites 
 to think of my wine, and could only attend to it after 
 taking a little rest. 
 
 I lately passed a few days at Saintonge, where I found 
 every one discomfited, weeping their eyes away for the mis- 
 fortunes of the Holy Father and General lyamorici&re. It 
 is said that General Changarnier is writing a narrative of 
 his colleague's campaign, in which, after bestowing the 
 highest eulogies, he proves that Lamoricifere committed the 
 most enormous follies. In my opinion, the only one of 
 the martyr heroes at whom one cannot laugh, is Pimodan, 
 -who died like a brave soldier. Those who exclaim against 
 the martyrs because they have been taken, move me to no 
 pity. Moreover, the present time is perfectly comic ; and 
 it is comfortable to learn every morning, through one's 
 paper, of a catastrophe, to read Cavour's notes and the 
 encyclicals. I see that they have shot Walker, in America, 
 which surprises me, for his case is precisely that of Gari- 
 baldi whom we all admire. 
 
 Two evenings ago, wishing for some music, I went to 
 the Italians, where they gave the "Barber of Seville." This 
 music, the gayest ever written, was executed by people 
 with the air of having just returned from a funeral. 
 Alboni, who played Rosina, sang admirably, with the ex- 
 pression of a bird organ. Gardoni sang like a gentleman 
 who fears to be mistaken for an actor. Had I been 
 Rossini I should have beaten them every one. Only Ba- 
 silio, whose name I do not recall, sang as if he understood 
 the words. 
 
 I am told that the ^Smpress, whom I have not yet seen, 
 is still terribly afflicted. She sent me a fine photograph of 
 the Duchesse d'Albe, taken twenty-four hours after death, 
 which was very calm ; she looks as if in a quiet sleep. 
 Five minutes before her death she laughed at her waiting- 
 maid's Valencian patois. I have no direct news of Madame 
 de Montijo since her departure, but I fear that the poor 
 lady will not bear up under this dreadful blow. 
 
 I am in the midst of academical intrigues ; the question 
 not one touching the French Academy, but that of the 
 fine arts. An intimate friend of mine is the favored candi- 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 213 
 
 date, but he has received an intimation from His Majesty 
 to give place to M. Haussmann, the Prefect. The Academy 
 is annoyed, and wishes to nominate my friend in spite of 
 himself, which I encourage to the utmost ; and I should 
 like to tell the Emperor the wrong he does himself in min- 
 gling with matters that do not concern him. I hope for 
 success, and that the Colossus will be finely blackballed. 
 
 Italian affairs are very amusing, and what is said of 
 them by the few honest people here is still more droll. 
 The martyrs of Castelfidardo are beginning to arrive, 
 among them a young man of eighteen years who allowed 
 himself to be taken, and whose aunt I saw a few days 
 ago. She said : "■ The Piedmontese behaved in an atro- 
 cious manner to my nephew." I awaited some appalling 
 revelation. *' Only imagine, Monsieur, five minutes after 
 being made prisoner the poor fellow's watch was gone. A 
 gold hunting watch that I had given him ! " 
 
 October, i860. — I quite understand that the first view of 
 Oriental life should dazzle you. One sees things both droll 
 and to be admired at every step ; in fact, there is always some- 
 thing droll in Orientals as in certain strange, pompous 
 beasts that we formerly saw at the Jardin des Plantes. 
 Decamps has caught this ludicrous phase, but not the very 
 fine, noble side of their character. 
 
 Thanks to your sex you are privileged to enter the 
 harems and chat with the women. Do they in Algeria, as 
 in Turkey, make a display of their charms? Tell me how 
 they dress, what they say, and what they think of you. 
 What is the character of the dances that you saw ? Were 
 they modest, and did you comprehend their sentiment? I 
 imagine that they are more interesting than those of Pari- 
 sian balls ; and they probably resemble the dances of the 
 gypsy women of Granada. I do not doubt that an Arab, 
 from Sahara, in witnessing a waltz in Paris, would con- 
 clude, and naturally, that the French women were enacting 
 pantomime. In going to the root of things we always find 
 the same primal ideas. Have you seen the women at the 
 Moorish baths? I am inclined to believe that the habit of 
 living with crossed legs must give them horrible knees. I 
 
214 MERIMEE 
 
 suppose you will adopt kohl for your eyes, which is very 
 pretty, being also, it is said, an excellent preservative 
 against ophthalmia, an affection common and dangerous for 
 European eyes in hot climates. I grant you my permission 
 to try the effect. You give me sketches ; I wish for de- 
 tails. There is nothing that you cannot say to me, and 
 besides, you are renowned for your euphuisms. You have 
 the art of academical expression. I congratulate you on your 
 courage in learning Arabic. I once glanced through M. de 
 Sacy's grammar and recoiled in terror, but I remember 
 that there are lunar and solar letters, and I know not how 
 many conjugations. My cousin, one of the most learned 
 Arabists, who had passed twenty-five years at Djeddah, told 
 me that he never opened a book without learning some 
 new word, of which there were, for instance, five hundred 
 for the one word lion. 
 
 Paris, October, i860. — I went to Saint-Cloud yesterday, 
 where I breakfasted almost tite-cL-tHe with the Emperor, the 
 Empress, and * Monsieur fils, " as they say at I,yons. I 
 talked a long while with the Emperor, principally of ancient 
 history and Caesar. He surprises me by the ease with which 
 he comprehends erudite subjects, for which he has only re- 
 •cently acquired the taste. The Empress related some curious 
 .anecdotes of her journey in Corsica. The Bishop spoke to 
 her of a bandit named Bosio, a thoroughly honest youth, 
 ■whom the counsels of a woman had driven to commit sev- 
 eral little murders. He is pursued for some months, but 
 uselessly ; women and children suspected of carrying him 
 food are thrown into prison, but to lay hands on him is 
 impossible. Her Majesty, who has read a certain romance,* 
 became interested in this man, and said she should be very 
 glad if he could be enabled to leave the island and go to 
 Africa or elsewhere, where he might become a good soldier 
 and an honest man. "Ah! Madame," said the Bishop, 
 *'will you allow me to have this told to him?" "How, 
 Monseigneur, you know where he is ? " General rule : the 
 most worthless fellow in Corsica is always related to the 
 most honest man. It greatly surprised the Imperial party 
 
 * M^rimde's novel of Colomba. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 215 
 
 that they should have been asked for a prodigious number 
 of favors (^grd-ces), but not for a sou; so the Empress re- 
 turns full of enthusiasm. 
 
 The meeting at Warsaw is a failure. The Emperor of 
 Austria invited himself, and was received with the polite- 
 ness that is accorded to the indiscreet. Nothing of im- 
 portance was accomplished. The Emperor of Austria es- 
 sayed to prove that if Hungary was a source of danger to 
 Austria, Russia had Poland ; to which GortschakofE replies : 
 " You have eleven millions of Hungarians, and you are 
 three millions of Germans. We are forty millions of Rus- 
 sians, and have no need of assistance in bringing six thou- 
 sand Poles to their senses. Consequently, there is no 
 necessity for mutual guaranties. " England is calming down, 
 and it is possible that she may make us overtures to adopt 
 a joint policy with regard to Italy. In that event war 
 would be impossible unless Garibaldi should attack Venice. 
 They write me from Naples that the muddle is at its 
 height, and the Piedmontese are expected there with the 
 same impatience with which we in Paris in 1848 looked for 
 the arrival of the troops of the line. They sigh for order 
 and rest their hopes for its restoration on Victor Emmanuel 
 alone. Moreover, Garibaldi and Alexandre Dumas have 
 prepared their minds for peace, much in the same way as 
 a freezing rain disposes one to a hot dinner. 
 
 Paris, November, i860. — Affairs are still complicated by 
 the condition of the East, which is such that our Ambassa- 
 dor at Constantinople expects the old machine to crack from 
 top to bottom at any moment. The Sultan is selling his 
 cashmeres, and does not know if he will be able to buy a 
 dinner next month. Do you know the Emperor Francis 
 Joseph's greeting to the Emperor Alexander ? " I bring you 
 my guilty head ! " The serf's formula on approaching his 
 master in the fear of being beaten. This he said in good 
 Russian, for he knows all languages. His servile meanness 
 did not profit him much ; Alexander preserved a most dis- 
 couraging coldness, and the Prince Regent of Prussia, fol- 
 lowing his example, put on airs. After the departure of 
 the Emperor Alexander, the Austrian emperor remained 
 four hours alone at Warsaw, where there was no great 
 
2i6 MERIMEE 
 
 Russian or Polish noblemen so poor to do him reverence. 
 All this has been a great triumph to the old Russians, who 
 detest the Austrians still more than the English or our- 
 selves. 
 
 You have heard of our victory over these poor Chinese. 
 What an absurdity to go so far for the purpose of killing 
 people who have done us no harm. True, being a species 
 of ourang-outang, the Grammont law alone can be invoked 
 in their favor. I am preparing for our Chinese conquests by 
 reading a new romance just translated by Stanislas Julien. 
 It is the story of Mademoiselle C&n and Mademoiselle I/ing 
 who are very witty, making verses and crambo on every 
 occasion. They meet with two students possessing the same 
 poetic facility, and a never-ending combat of quatrains en- 
 sues, the prominent idea of which is the blue lotus and 
 white doves. It is impossible to conceive of any imagina- 
 tive effort more uncouth and more barren of passion. The 
 people who can be amused by this style of literature are 
 evidently abominable pedants, who well deserve to be beaten 
 and conquered by us, who are disciples of the noble 
 Greek literature. 
 
 I dined to-day with Prince Napoleon. The Princess Clo- 
 tilde admired my wrist buttons, and asked the address of 
 my jeweler. 
 
 MarseihES, November, i860. — My friend Mr. Kllice, of 
 Glenquoich, will be my neighbor this winter. He has just 
 purchased a Scotch estate next his own ; or rather lakes, 
 rocks, and heaths several leagues in extent. I cannot con- 
 ceive what it will produce, unless it be grouse and deer. 
 
 I have brought with me a new edition of Pouschkine's 
 works, and have promised to write a notice of him. I find 
 magnificent things in his lyric poems, entirely after my own 
 heart; that is to say, Greek in their truth and simplicity. 
 I should like to translate several that are marked by great 
 sprightliness, in which, as in precision and clearness, he 
 strikes me as pre-eminent. One in the style of Sappho's 
 ode reminds me that I am writing in the chamber of an 
 inn, dreaming of happy moments in the past. I am ill and 
 suffering ; but of all petty miseries the worst for me is 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 217 
 
 sleeplessness, when thoughts are gloomy, land one takes a 
 dislike to one's self. The journey of the Empress to Scot- 
 land creates much gossip, and every one is mystified. 
 
 Cannes, December, i860. — The political disturbance has 
 somewhat agitated me, however unprejudiced in the prem- 
 ises I may be. You know how intimate I have been with 
 the chief victim, M. Fould. As yet I know nothing posi- 
 tive respecting the reasons for his disgrace. It is evident, 
 however, that a beautiful woman is somewhat implicated, 
 who is anxious to dislodge him, and who has long sought to 
 accomplish this end. M. Fould is less philosophical than I 
 should have thought, or than I should have been in his 
 place ; but he has been wounded by certain proceedings. 
 As to the liberal measures, we must wait to see the result. 
 As a principle, it is better to take the initiative in giving 
 than to grant what has been long and impatiently demanded. 
 On the other hand, the Emperor may be seeking support 
 in the Chambers to enable him to withdraw from our false 
 position in Italy, — protecting a Pope who excommunicated 
 us in petto, while we risk a quarrel with our friends out of 
 tenderness for the vanity of a puppet (the Emperor of 
 Austria) who has never wished us well. Here, throughout 
 France, the people who wear black coats and claim to be 
 powerful are in favor of the Pope and the King of Naples, 
 as if they had incited no ''revolution in France, but their 
 love for the papacy and legitimacy does not stretch to the 
 point of expending a crown for them. What will be the 
 effect of the recrudescent eloquence with which the new 
 concessions threaten us ? The old Parliamentarians begin to 
 prick up their ears. M. Thiers, it is said, will enter the 
 lists as a candidate for the Deputies, and this example will 
 be followed by many others. I can hardly imagine what 
 will become of the Ministers without portfolio commissioned 
 to represent the eloquence of the I^egislative Body and the 
 Senate ; but it will be diverting to see orators like Mes- 
 sieurs Magne and Billault, with the Jules Favres and tutti 
 quanti. 
 
 My friend Mr. Ellice is at Nice, whence he occasionally 
 comes to visit me ; he complains of finding no intellectual 
 
2i8 MERIMEE 
 
 associates. I see that you have had a visit from Mr. Cob- 
 den, a man of talent and very interesting, the opposite of 
 an Englishman, in that he never utters commonplaces and 
 has few prejudices. I can give you no political news, for 
 my correspondents tell me nothing, except that nothing is 
 done. It is a characteristic of our generation to set out 
 with a great hubbub that ends in loitering and amusing 
 ourselves on the road. 
 
 CannBS, February, 1861. — I have been to Nice on a 
 visit to my friend Mr. EUice who is cruelly tortured by the 
 gout. I confess to an involuntary sentiment of satisfaction 
 in passing the bridge of the Var free from custom-house 
 ofiBcers, gensdarmes, and passports. It is a fine annexation 
 and makes one feel several millimetres taller. 
 
 M. Fould has been on a visit to me, and related many 
 curious stories touching both men and women who inter- 
 meddled in his affairs. I doubt if he will have the cour- 
 age to persevere in sulking. It appears that when one has 
 carried a red portfolio under the arm for some time, the 
 loss of it reduces him to the state of an Englishman with- 
 out his umbrella. 
 
 If you find some pretty silk stuff that washes, and not 
 too much like a woman's gown, order me a robe de chambre 
 the longest possible, and buttoned down the left side, and 
 in the Oriental fashion. Bring it with you, for I have no 
 wish to wear silk gowns when the ice of the Seine is two 
 feet thick. The cold reported at Paris makes my hair stand 
 on end ; nevertheless I am summoned there by the President. 
 Do not be alarmed to' see my illness announced. A dignity 
 has been conferred on me which I could very well have 
 dispensed with, but which compels me to be punctual ; and 
 they also write me that our Senate is papistical and legiti- 
 mist, and that my vote will not be one too many for the 
 ballot. 
 
 The poor Duchess of Malakof is an excellent person, not 
 very bright, especially as to French. She appears to be 
 entirely domineered over by her frightful monster of a hus- 
 band, who is rough by habit and perhaps through policy. 
 It is said, however, that she accommodates herself to the 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYM A 219 
 
 inevitable. Should you see her, speak of me and of our 
 theatrical performances in Spain. I am told that her brother 
 is an amiable fellow, very handsome, and a poet into 
 the bargain. Thanks for the tobacco pouch, the gold and 
 colored embroidery of which is exquisite. Only barbarians 
 can do these things, our workmen having too much ac- 
 quired art and not enough sentiment to equal them. Thanks 
 also for the bananas, to my taste the most delicious fruit 
 in the world. 
 
 Paris, March, 1861. — Since my return to Paris I have 
 been in a condition of utter stultification ; first, as regards 
 our exhibition at the Senate, where, I may say with M. 
 Jourdain, I have been surfeited with nonsense. Every one 
 had a speech prepared, that it was necessary to display, 
 and so contagious was the example of dullness that I de- 
 livered my own like an idiot. I was cruelly frightened, 
 but overcame it by reminding myself that I was in the 
 presence of two hundred imbeciles, and with no reason for 
 agitation. The joke of it was that M. Walewski, for 
 whom I wished to obtain a satisfactory budget, was of- 
 fended by my praise of his predecessor, and honestly de- 
 clared that he would vote against my resolution. M. 
 Troplong, near whom in virtue of my office as Secretary I 
 was seated, condoled with me in a low tone; to which I 
 replied that it was impossible to make a Minister drink who 
 was not thirsty. This was repeated piping hot to M. 
 Walewski, who took it for an epigram, and has frowned at 
 me ever since. 
 
 The second ennui of the day is the official and private 
 dinners, where one sees the same turbot, fillet, and lobster, 
 and the same tiresome persons as on the preceding occa- 
 sion. But the most irksome of all is Catholicism. You 
 can hardly imagine the degree of exasperation to which 
 Catholics are moved, flying in one's face for a mere 
 nothing; for example, if one does not show the whites of 
 one's eyes in hearing them discourse of the sainted 
 martyr; and still more if one innocently inquires, as I 
 have done, who has been martyrized. I have also got into 
 a scrape in expressing astonishment that the Queen of 
 
220 MERIMEE 
 
 Naples should be photograplied in boots ! — an exaggeration 
 of my words and a surpassing stupidity. The other even- 
 ing a lady asked me if I had seen the Empress of Austria. 
 I said that I thought her very pretty. " Ah ! she is 
 ideal ! " — No, it is an irregular face, more agreeable per- 
 haps than if perfectly classical. — * Ah ! Monsieur, she is beauty 
 itself ! Tears of admiration come to one's eyes ! " And this 
 is the society of to-day ! I fly from it as from the plague. 
 What has become of the French society of former years ! 
 
 The latest, but a colossal bore, has been " Tannhauser. " 
 Some persons say that its representation at Paris was one 
 of the secret clauses of the treaty of Villafranca ; others, 
 that Wagner has been given to us to compel our admira- 
 tion of Berlioz. The fact is, it is prodigious. I am con- 
 vinced that I could write something similar if inspired by 
 the scampering of my cat over the piano keys. The Prin- 
 cess de Metternich bestirred herself enormously in feigning 
 to understand it and to lead the applause, which, however, 
 never came. Every one yawned ; but at first the audience 
 assumed the air of comprehending this keyless enigma. 
 Beneath Madame de Metternich's box, it was said by the 
 wits that the Austrians were taking their revenge for 
 Solferino. It was also said that one wearies of the recita- 
 tives, and tires of the airs {se tanne aux airs). Try to 
 catch the pun. Your Arabic music, I fancy, would be a 
 capital preparation for this infernal uproar. The failure is 
 stupendous ! Auber says that it is Berlioz without melody. 
 
 I am satisfied that within two months the Pope will 
 either be off, or that we shall leave him to his own de- 
 vices, or that he will come to some arrangement with 
 Piedmont ; but matters cannot remain in their present 
 status. The bigots are raising a horrible outcry, but the 
 Gallic bourgeois and the people are anti-papists. 
 
 You tell me nothing of your health, which appears to be 
 good, nor of your complexion, which must be, I fear, some- 
 what browned. 
 
 Paris, May, 1861. — You must have been sadly im- 
 pressed with the aspect of winter in Central France, com- 
 ing as you do from Africa. Whenever I return from 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 221 
 
 Cannes I am horrified at the sight of the leafless trees and 
 damp, dead earth. 
 
 The Catholics have rendered our salons insupportable. 
 Not only have the former devotees become acid as ver- 
 juice, but all of the ex-Voltaireans of the political oppo- 
 sition have turned papists. What consoles me, is, that 
 some among them believe themselves obliged to attend 
 mass, which must bore them sufficiently. My old Profes- 
 sor, M. Cousin, who formerly never spoke of the Pope 
 but as the Bishop of Rome, is converted and never misses 
 a mass. It is even said that M. Thiers is becoming de- 
 vout, but I find some diflSculty in believing it, for I have 
 always had a weakness for him. 
 
 I am, at this very moment, a prey to the herrings that 
 the sea-calves of Boulogne have raised up to torment us, 
 and I await the Maronites as a finishing stroke — that is to 
 say, we are disputing in the Senate, and very sharply, (J 
 propos to herrings, and we are menaced with daily sittings. 
 Is it true that all the Boulogne herring fishers are thieves 
 who buy the herrings taken by the English, and which 
 they pretend to have caught themselves ? Is it also true that 
 the herrings have been seduced by the English, and pass 
 no more along our coasts ? 
 
 Chatbau de FontainEbleau, June, 1861. — I am rest- 
 ing under the trees with great happiness after my tribula- 
 tions. Never have I seen men so enraged, so out of their 
 senses as the magistrates. I console myself in thinking that 
 if twenty years hence some antiquary shall burrow in the 
 " Moniteur " of this week, he will say that one philosopher of 
 moderation and calmness was found among an assembly of 
 lunatics. This philosopher, without vanity, is myself. In 
 this country magistrates are selected from men too stupid to 
 gain their living as lawyers ; they are badly paid, and are 
 allowed to be crabbed and insolent. I have done my duty, 
 and all is at an end. I was well received here, with no 
 raillery on my defeat. I very clearly gave my opinion of 
 the matter, and they do not appear to think me in the 
 wrong. It is magnificent weather and the air of the forest 
 is delicious. There are rocks and heather which would 
 
222 MERIMEE 
 
 have their charms could I walk with you among them, 
 chatting of all manner of things ; but we go in a long file 
 of chars h bancs, where one is not always well matched in 
 point of capacity for amusing. There is not a republic, 
 however, where one can have more freedom or find a host 
 and hostess more amiable and kind to their guests. There 
 are few people here. We have the Princess de Metternich, 
 who is very animated after the German fashion, that is to 
 say, she affects a species of originality composed of two parts 
 lorette, one part great lady. I suspect that in reality there is 
 not too much wit to sustain the r61e that she has adopted. 
 One accomplishes nothing here. Sometimes I am summoned 
 for a stroll in the woods ; sometimes to make verses ; but time 
 is especially wasted in waiting. The great philosophy of 
 the day is to know how to wait, and I have some difiSculty 
 in educating myself in the art. Thanks to Caesar, doubt- 
 less, I shall be here until the end of the month. I am 
 working for the bourgeois (the Emperor), with whom I am 
 more pleased every day. I went last week to Alise with 
 the Emperor, who is becoming an accomplished archaeolo- 
 gist. He passed three hours and a half on the mountain, 
 under the most terrific sun, examining the vestiges of 
 Caesar's siege, and reading the "Commentaries." We re- 
 turned with the skin pealed from our ears, and the color 
 of chimney-sweeps. 
 
 Chateau db Fontaineb^eau, June, 1861. — We have 
 had a capital ceremony here, reminding me of that in the 
 "Bourgeois Gentilhomme. " It was the most diverting spec- 
 tacle possible, that of twenty black men exceedingly like 
 monkeys, dressed in gold brocade with white stockings and 
 varnished shoes, and swords at their side, all fiat on their 
 face and crawling on hands and knees the whole length of 
 the Henri II. gallery, each one with his nose level with 
 the back of the crawler preceding him. The hardest task 
 fell to the first ambassador, who wore a felt hat embroid- 
 ered in gold that danced on his head with each motion, 
 and who held a bowl of gold filagree work within which 
 were two boxes containing each a letter from their Siamese 
 Majesties. The letters were inclosed in purses of gold- 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 223 
 
 woven silk, the whole being very pretty. After delivering 
 the letters to the Emperor, it became necessary to retire 
 backward, and confusion fell upon the embassy. A suc- 
 cession of blows on the face of those behind them by the 
 first rank, whose swords pierced the eyes of the second 
 rank, who in turn made blind of one eye the third rank, 
 was the result of this masterly retreat. They presented 
 the appearance of a swarm of black beetles on the carpet. 
 The Minister of Foreign Affairs had arranged the ceremony 
 and exacted that the ambassadors should crawl, the effect 
 of which moreover failed for the Emperor at length lost all 
 patience, rose, made the beetles rise, and spoke in English 
 with one of them. The Empress kissed a little monkey whom 
 they had brought, said to be the son of one of the ambas- 
 sadors, who ran about on all fours like a little rat, but had 
 an intelligent expression. The temporal king of Siam sent 
 his portrait to the Emperor, and that of his wife, who is 
 hideously ugly. You would be charmed by the beauty 
 and variety of the stuffs they brought ; gold and silver tis- 
 sues so light and transparent as to resemble the clouds of 
 a fine sunset. They gave the Emperor trowsers embroid- 
 ered with ornaments in enamel and gold, and a vest of 
 gold brocade as flexible as foulard, the designs, gold on 
 gold, being really exquisite ; while the buttons are of a 
 filagree gold, diamonds, and emeralds. They have a red 
 gold and a white gold which produce an admirable effect 
 when blended. In short, I have never seen anything at 
 once so bewitching and splendid. The tastes of these sav- 
 ages is singular, in that their fabrics are not glaring, al- 
 though they use only brilliant silks, gold, and silver. All 
 this is marvelously combined, producing on the whole a 
 quiet and harmonious effect. 
 
 lyONDON, British Museum, July, 1861. — You know, or you 
 do not know, that there is a new lyord Chancellor, lyord 
 
 B , who is old, but his morals by no means so. A 
 
 lawyer named Stevens sends his clerk with a card for the 
 Chancellor ; the clerk makes inquiries, and is told that my 
 lord has no house in London, but that he often comes 
 from the country to Oxford Terrace, where he has a tem- 
 
224 MERIMEE 
 
 porary lodging. Thither the clerk proceeds and asks for 
 my lord. " He is not here. " " Do you think he will re- 
 turn for dinner ? *' " No, but to sleep, certainly ; he sleeps 
 here every Monday." The clerk leaves the letter, and Mr. 
 Stevens is greatly astonished that the Chancellor should 
 look frightfully black at him. The gist of the story is, 
 that my lord maintains a clandestine manage. 
 
 I have not had a moment's rest since my arrival ; dinner 
 parties, balls, and concerts without cessation. Yesterday I 
 attended a concert at the Marquis of I/ansdowne's where 
 there was not a single pretty woman, a remarkable circum- 
 stance here ; but, on the other hand, they were all dressed 
 as if the first modiste of Brionde had composed their 
 toilet. I have never seen anything to parallel their head- 
 dresses ; one ancient dame, who wore a diamond crown 
 composed of small stars with a huge sun in the centre, be- 
 ing an absolute counterpart of the wax figures that one 
 sees at fairs. 
 
 Yesterday I dined at Greenwich with some great person- 
 ages who exerted themselves to be lively, not like the Ger- 
 mans by throwing themselves from the windows, but by 
 making an excessive noise. The dinner was abominably 
 long, but the white bait excellent. We have unpacked two 
 cases of antiquities just arrived from Cyrene. There are 
 two statues and several remarkable busts, one of a good 
 period and quite Greek ; a Bacchus, that is especially cap- 
 tivating though with rather a mincing expression, the head 
 being in an extraordinary state of preservation. 
 
 M. de Vidil is committed and will be tried at the next 
 assizes. He is not admitted to bail, and the worst that can 
 happen to him will be a sentence of imprisonment for two 
 years ; for where death does not supervene the English law 
 does not recognize murder. 
 
 lyord Ivyndhurst said to me that one must be extremely 
 MALADROIT to be hung in England. I went the other even- 
 ing to the House of Commons and heard the debate on 
 Sardinia. Anything more verbose, more pointless {gobe- 
 mouche), and fuller of braggadocio than the majority of the 
 speakers it is impossible to imagine, and notably so I^ord 
 John Russell, now Earl Russell. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 225 
 
 I have been interrupted by a visit to the bank. They 
 placed in my hand four small packages amounting to four 
 million pounds sterling, but I was not allowed to bring 
 them away. They showed me a very pretty machine that 
 counts and weighs three thousand sovereigns per day. It 
 hesitates a moment, and after a short deliberation throws 
 the good sovereign to the right and the bad to the left. 
 There is another that takes a bank bill, stoops and gives 
 it, as it were, two little kisses, impressing on it marks that 
 forgers have not as yet been able to imitate. Finally, I 
 was conducted to the vaults, where I might have imagined 
 myself in a grotto of the " Arabian Nights " ; all filled with 
 sacks of gold and ingots sparkling in the gaslight. 
 
 Paris, August, 1861. — I do not know whether in conse- 
 quence of too much turtle soup, or exposure to the sun, 
 but I have again suffered from my former agonizing pains, 
 which must resemble those of hanging, and which create in 
 me no desire to be suspended. After six weeks of dinner 
 parties I find it very comfortable not to don a white cravat. 
 I passed a week in Suffolk County in a fine chdteau, almost 
 in solitude. It is a flat country, but covered with magnifi- 
 cent timber, with much water ; it is very near the fens 
 whence Cromwell came. The quantity of game is astonish- 
 ing, and at every step one runs the risk of crushing 
 partridges or pheasants. 
 
 Should Madame de Montijo go to Biarritz I shall join 
 her and pass some days with her. She is inconsolable, and 
 I find her even more sad than last year when her daugh- 
 ter died. 
 
 I see by your letter that you are as much occupied as a 
 general-in-chief on the eve of battle. I remember reading 
 in "Tristram Shandy," that in the house with a newly 
 born babe all the women believe themselves entitled to tyr- 
 annize over the men ; and I feared to be treated with the 
 disdain inseparable from your present height of grandeur. 
 For myself, I am but slightly inclined to love children ; 
 nevertheless, I can imagine that one may be attached to a 
 little girl as to a kitten, an animal to which your sex bear 
 a strong resemblance. There is perfect solitude here, by 
 15 
 
226 MERIMEE 
 
 which I profit in preparing something promised to my mas- 
 ter, and which I wish to take to Biarritz. I read little ex- 
 cept Roman history ; nevertheless, I have read M. Thiers's 
 nineteenth volume with great pleasure. It strikes me as 
 being written with greater negligence than its predecessors, 
 but full of curious matter. In spite of his desire to speak 
 ill of his hero, he is continually carried away by his invol- 
 untary love. He gives exceedingly amusing stories of 
 Montrond, to whom I only regret not having related them 
 while he was living. M. Thiers paints him correctly as an 
 adventurer in love with his trade, and honest toward his 
 employers during the period of his service, much the same 
 as Dalgetty in the " Legend of Montrose. " 
 
 Biarritz, September, 1861. — I am still here, dear friend, 
 like a bird on a branch. It is not the custom here to 
 make plans in advance, indeed they are resolved on only 
 at the last moment. It is excessively cold after dinner, it 
 being impossible to keep warm with the system of doors 
 and windows that has been contrived here. The sea air is 
 of service, and I breathe more easily, but sleep badly, as 
 I am immediately on the shore, for the slightest wind 
 rouses the waves to a terrific uproar. Time passes here as 
 in all imperial residences — in doing nothing and in wait- 
 ing that something may be done. I work a little, sketch 
 from my window, and walk a great deal. There are but 
 few persons at the Villa Eugenie, and all agreeable. Yes- 
 terday we took a charming walk along the Pyrenees, suf- 
 ficiently near the mountains to see them in all their beauty 
 and escaping the discomfort of constant ascents and de- 
 scents. We lost our way and found only people who were 
 ignorant of our fine French tongue: and this happens as 
 soon as one quits the suburbs of Bayonne. 
 
 Yesterday the Prince Imperial gave a dinner party to a 
 troupe of his young friends. The Emperor himself mixed 
 the champagne with seltzer-water, but the effect was the 
 same as if they had drunk the pure wine. They were all 
 tipsy a quarter of an hour afterward, and my ears still 
 ache with the noise they made. I boldly undertook to 
 translate a Spanish memoir respecting the site of Munda 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 227 
 
 for His Majesty, which I begin to perceive is terribly difficult 
 reading. I am working like a negro for my master, whom 
 I shall go to see in a few days. 
 
 CoMPiBGNE, November, 1861. — Our anticipated yefe.? have 
 been postponed by the death of His Majesty of Portugal. 
 As lions we have four Highlanders in kilts, the Duke of 
 Athol, I/Ord James Murray, with the son and nephew of 
 the Duke. It is droll enough to see these eight bare knees 
 in a drawing-room where all the men are in knee breeches or 
 pantaloons. Yesterday His Grace's piper was introduced, 
 and they all four danced in a way to alarm the company 
 when they whirled about. But there are some ladies here 
 whose crinoline is still more alarming as they enter a car- 
 riage. As lady guests are not obliged to wear mourning, 
 legs of every color are seen, the red stockings having a 
 very good effect. In spite of walks through damp, icy 
 woods, and red-hot drawing-rooms, I have escaped a cold ; 
 but I am oppressed and do not sleep. 
 
 I was present at the great ministerial comedy, where we 
 were in expectation of several additional victims. The 
 faces were a study, the speeches still more so ; inasmuch as 
 M. Walewski, the tottering Excellency, paraded his griefs 
 indiscriminately to friends and enemies. An inveterate prej- 
 udice is the strongest provocation to the utterance of non- 
 sense, especially when one is in the habit of it. Oh human 
 platitude ! His wife, on the contrary, was wonderfully cool 
 and self-possessed. What is said of the Emperor's letter? 
 He has a way peculiar to himself of saying things, and 
 where he speaks as a sovereign contrives to convey the 
 impression that he is of a finer porcelain. I believe it to 
 be precisely what is needed by our high-toned nation which 
 has no love for common clay. 
 
 Yesterday the Princess of , when taking tea, asked a 
 
 footman, in her German accent, * De lui aborder ti sel bour 
 le bain.^ After a quarter of an hour the man returned 
 with thirty pounds of bay salt, supposing that she wished 
 to take a salt bath. 
 
 A picture by Miiller, representing Queen Marie Antoi- 
 nette in prison, was lately brought to the Empress. The 
 
228 MERIMEE 
 
 Prince Imperial asked who this lady was and why she 
 was not in a palace. They explained to him that it was a 
 Queen of France, and told him the meaning of a prison. 
 He immediately ran off to ask the Emperor to be pleased 
 to pardon this Queen whom he kept in prison. He is an 
 odd child, and sometimes terrible. He says that he al- 
 ways bows to the people because they drove away Louis 
 Philippe who was not on good terms with them. He is a 
 charming child. 
 
 Cannes, January, 1862. — I have here as neighbor and 
 companion M. Cousin, who has come to be cured of laryn- 
 gitis, and who talks like a one-eyed magpie, eats like an 
 ogre, and is surprised he does not get well under this beau- 
 tiful sky, which he sees for the first time. He is, more- 
 over, very amusing, for he has the tact to draw out 
 every one around him. I believe that when he is alone 
 with his servant he talks with him as with the most co- 
 quettish Orleanist or Legitimist Duchess. The Cannites, 
 pur sang, cannot get over their astonishment, and you 
 may fancy their look on being told that this man, who 
 talks on every subject, and talks well, has translated 
 Plato and is the lover of Madame de Longueville. The 
 inconvenient part of it is that he does not know when to 
 stop talking. For an eclectic philosopher it is a misfortune 
 not to have adopted the conspicuous virtue of the sect of 
 peripatetics. 
 
 How do you govern the little children who absorb you 
 so much? It appears to be an interesting occupation. The 
 worst thing about children is their tardy development which 
 leaves us so long uncertain if they have mind or power of 
 reasoning ; it is vexatious that their struggling intelligence 
 cannot be demonstrated by themselves. The main question 
 is to know whether we shall talk sense or nonsense to 
 them ; each system has its pros and cons. I have made 
 the acquaintance of a poor cat that lives in a cabin 
 ~ deep in the woods ; I carry it bread and meat every day, 
 and it runs a quarter of a league to meet me. I re- 
 gret not being able to carry it off, for it has marvelous 
 instincts. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 229 
 
 London, British Museum, May, 1862. — Frankly, the Ex- 
 hibition is something of a failure. True, everything is not 
 yet unpacked, but the building is horrible; although very 
 large it does not impress one with its size, and one must 
 walk and be lost in it to appreciate its extent. The Eng- 
 lish have made great progress in taste and the art of ar- 
 rangement ; we make furniture and painted paper assuredly 
 better than they, but we are in a deplorable path, and if 
 this continue we shall be distanced. Our jury is presided 
 over by a German who speaks English that is nearly in- 
 comprehensible, and nothing can be more absurd than our 
 conferences ; no one even understands what subject is under 
 discussion. Nevertheless, we vote. The worst of it is, that 
 in our division there are some English manufacturers, and 
 medals must necessarily be given to these gentlemen, who 
 do not merit them. I am bombarded by speeches and routs. 
 Two days ago I dined with lyord Granville. There were 
 three small tables in a long gallery, which arrangement was 
 expected to promote general conversation, but as the guests 
 were but slightly known to each other nearly a general 
 silence prevailed. In the evening I went to Lord Palmers- 
 ton's, where the Japanese Embassy wore great swords 
 which kept getting caught in all the women's dresses. 
 I saw some women who were very beautiful and others 
 who were very ugly ; both making a complete exhibition of 
 their personal charms ; some attractive, others quite the re- 
 verse ; but each one displaying the same assurance. 
 
 London, June, 1862. — I read my report yesterday to the 
 International Jury, in the purest Anglo-Saxon, not a word 
 drawn from the French. In vain do the Commissioners appeal 
 and beat the drum, they cannot attract a crowd. Since the 
 price has been reduced to a shilling fashionable people no 
 longer go, and the lower class seem to find little pleasure 
 in it. The restaurants are detestable, the American res- 
 taurant being the amusing feature, where may be found 
 more or less diabolical beverages that one drinks through a 
 straw: mint julep or "raise; thb dead." All of these 
 drinks are disguised gin. I am tired out with British hos- 
 pitality and dinners which give the idea of all being pre- 
 
230 MERIMEE 
 
 pared by the same inexpert cook. You cannot imagine how 
 I long for a plate of soup from my own pot-au-feu. 
 
 I do not know which of two recent important events has 
 produced the greatest effect, — one, the defeat of the two 
 Derby favorites by an unknown horse ; the other, the defeat 
 of the Tories in the House of Commons. The number of 
 mournful faces in London was really ludicrous. A young 
 married lady at the races fainted on learning that Marquis 
 was beaten a head's length by a rustic without pedigree. 
 Mr. Disraeli puts a better face on the matter and shows 
 himself at every ball. 
 
 Paris, July, 1862. — Madame de Montijo arrived last 
 week, so changed that it is distressing to see her. Nothing 
 consoles her for the death of her daughter, and I find her 
 less resigned even than on the day of her death. I dined 
 last week at Saint-Cloud with a small circle quite agreeably, 
 and where the feeling struck me as being less papistic 
 than is generally supposed. I was permitted to scandalize 
 matters without being called to order. The little prince is 
 charming. He has grown two inches and is the prettiest 
 child I have seen. 
 
 BagnSrES-db-Bigorre, The Upper Pyrinies, 1862. — I 
 have arrived here with M. Panizzi after a little tour beneath 
 a terrible sun, and find weather worthy of London : fogs 
 and an imperceptible rain that penetrates to one's bones. 
 The physician of this watering-place is an old comrade of 
 mine who has auscultated me and punched my chest and 
 back, discovering two mortal ailments of which he under- 
 takes to cure me, provided that I drink daily two glasses 
 from the hot mineral spring, which is not ill-tasting ; and 
 that I bathe in a warm spring that is very agreeable to the 
 skin.- Already I am better. There are not many persons 
 here, the English and the grapes having failed this season. 
 
 In point of beauty we have Mademoiselle A. D , who 
 
 formerly captivated Prince . I have only seen her 
 
 back, and she wears the vastest crinoline to be found in all 
 the country. Balls are given twice a week, which I shall 
 not attend, and amateur concerts, which I shall religiously 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 231 
 
 avoid. Yesterday I was compelled to undergo a musical 
 mass, to which I was conducted by gensdarmes; but the 
 soirie given by the Sub-Prefect I declined, not to accumu- 
 late too many catastrophes in a single day. I should like to 
 show you the incomparable verdure of this region, to talk 
 with you beneath the shade of the great beech-trees, and 
 make you drink the bright water for which crystal would 
 be no fitting comparison. The petty quarrels and occupa- 
 tions of which you complain are lamentably incidental to a 
 provincial place, and one can only deplore the fate of per- 
 sons condemned to live there. Nevertheless it is certain 
 that in the course of a few months one sinks to the level 
 of the natives, and becomes interested in provincial inan- 
 ities. The confession is sad, but human intelligence accepts 
 the aliment offered and with satisfaction. 
 
 Last week I made a mountain excursion to see a farm 
 belonging to M. Fould. It is on the shore of a small 
 lake, facing one of the finest panoramas imaginable, sur- 
 rounded by great trees, a rare thing in France; and one 
 breakfasts there most capitally. He has many magnifi- 
 cent horses and oxen, the whole managed with English 
 order. 
 
 Have you read " Les Mis^rables, " and heard what is said 
 of it? This is another of the subjects in respect to which 
 I find the human species below that of the gorilla. The 
 world becomes more stupid every day. 
 
 Biarritz, Villa Euginie, September, 1862. — Dear friend, 
 I am here on the sea-shore, breathing more easily than for 
 a long time. The waters of Bagnlres made me ill, a 
 proof, it was said, of their beneficial action ; but on leaving 
 them I began to revive, and now the sea-air and perhaps 
 also the superb cuisine have perfected my cure. There 
 are but few guests at the Villa, and only amiable persons 
 whom I have long known. There is no crowd in the 
 town, not many French, the Spaniards and Americans pre- 
 dominating. At the Thursday receptions at the Villa the 
 Northern and Southern Americans have to be placed on 
 different sides of the salon, lest they should eat each 
 other. 
 
232 MERIMEE 
 
 On these occasions there is full dress, but usually there 
 is not the least toilet ; the ladies dine in high dresses, 
 and we of the ugly sex in morning coats. There is not a 
 chAteau in France or England where one is so free and 
 without etiquette, nor where the chatelaine is so good and 
 so gracious to her guests. We take beautiful walks in the 
 valleys skirting the Pyr^ndes, returning with prodigious 
 appetites. The lady bathers are, as usual, very odd in the 
 
 matter of costume. There is a Madame , the color of 
 
 a turnip, who arrays herself in blue and pow^ders her hair, 
 — the powder, however, is said to be ashes, with which she 
 sprinkles her head because of her country's misfortunes. 
 
 Have you seen Victor Hugo's speech at a dinner of Bel- 
 gian booksellers and other swindlers at Brussels? What a 
 pity that this good fellow, who has such fine imagery at 
 his command, should not possess an iota of common sense, 
 nor the discretion to refrain from uttering plaudits un- 
 worthy of so clever a man ! I find more poetry in his 
 comparison of the tunnel and railway than I have met with 
 in any book these five years. But they are, after all, merely 
 metaphors, containing nothing of depth, solidity, or judg- 
 ment. He is a man who intoxicates himself with his own 
 words and does not take the trouble to think. The 
 twentieth volume by Thiers pleases me, as it does you. I 
 have read it a second time with renewed pleasure, and 
 shall do so again. It was immensely difficult, in my 
 opinion, to extract anything from the confused rubbish of 
 the St. Helena conversations as reported by Las Cases, and 
 Thiers has come out of it wonderfully well. I am also 
 pleased with his comparison of Napoleon with other great 
 men, although he is somewhat severe upon Alexander and 
 Caesar ; nevertheless, there is much truth in what he says 
 as to the absence of virtue on the part of Csesar. It at- 
 tracts great interest, here, and I fear that there is not 
 overmuch love for the hero ; for instance, they will not 
 concede the anecdote of Nicomedes, nor you either, I fancy. 
 Adieu — keep well, and do not sacrifice yourself too much 
 for others ; they will come to accept it as a habit, and 
 what is now a pleasure to you, will perhaps some day be- 
 come an irksome duty. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 233 
 
 Paris, October, 1862. — I returned from Biarritz with my 
 Sovereigns. We were all quite doleful, having been 
 poisoned, as I believe, by verdigris. The cooks swear 
 that they scoured their saucepans, but I do not credit their 
 oaths. The fact is, fourteen persons at the Villa were 
 seized with vomiting and cramps, and having been formerly 
 poisoned with verdigris, I know the symptoms and hold to 
 my opinion. What with the poisoning and the political 
 stir, I have led an agitated life. I have been divided be- 
 tween the desire that M. Fould should remain in the Min- 
 istry, in the interest of our master, and the wish that he 
 should resign for the sake of his own dignity and personal 
 advantage. It has ended by concessions which have bene- 
 fited no one, while, in my opinion, they have lowered the 
 dramatis personoe. The joke of the matter is that Persigny, 
 whom the non-papist Ministers cannot endure, has become 
 their standard bearer, and that he shall continue in ofiBce 
 they have made the condition on which they retain their 
 portfolios. So, Thouvenel, an intelligent, very good fellow, 
 has been dismissed, while Persigny, who is crazy and 
 understands nothing of business, remains. Here we are 
 then, in the clutches of the clergy, and you know where 
 they lead their friends. 
 
 I am now reading a book that may entertain you : the 
 history of the " Revolt of the Netherlands, " by Motley. 
 There are not less than five thick volumes ; but although 
 not over and above well written, it is smooth in style and 
 interesting. He yields too much to anti-Catholic and anti- 
 Monarchical prejudice, but he has made immense re- 
 searches, and though an American, is a man of talent. 
 
 I am suffering with my lungs. You will learn some day 
 that I have ceased to breathe for want of this organ, which 
 should induce you to be very amiable to me before this 
 misfortune shall occur. 
 
 Cannbs, January, 1863. — I have received the last novel 
 by M. Gustave Flaubert, the author of * Madame Bovary, " 
 which I believe you have read, though you will not con- 
 fess it. The new romance is "Salammb6," a crazy produc- 
 tion ; but the writer has talent which he fritters away 
 
234 MERIMEE 
 
 under the pretext of realism. One obtains an amusing idea 
 of the author, and a still more ludicrous one of his ad- 
 mirers, the bourgeois, who discuss such things with decent 
 people. I recommend you to read a romance by M. de 
 Tourguenieff, the proofs of which I am expecting for 
 the Revue des Deux Mondes, and which I have read in 
 Russian. It is called Les Pires et les En/ants. It of- 
 fers a contrast between the passing and coming generation. 
 The hero, the representative of the new generation, is a 
 socialist, materialist, and realist, nevertheless a sensible and 
 interesting man. This novel has produced a great sensa- 
 tion in Russia, and a great outcry against the writer, who 
 is accused of immorality and impiety. When a work ex- 
 cites such public exasperation, it is, in my opinion, a 
 signal proof of success. 
 
 Before leaving Paris I consulted an eminent physician, 
 wishing to ascertain how long a time would be allowed to 
 prepare for my funeral ceremonies. I was satisfied with 
 the consultation, first, because the ceremony would not take 
 place so soon as apprehended ; secondly, because he ex- 
 plained clearly and anatomically the seat of my malady — 
 not the heart, but the lungs. True, I can never be cured, 
 but there are alleviations for my suffering. I have been in 
 bed a week from an attack of spasms and suffocation, hav- 
 ing contracted a painful lumbago, the effect of this fine 
 climate, where, so long as the sun remains above the 
 horizon one may fancy it to be summer ; but as soon as it 
 disappears we have a quarter of an hour of damp cold that 
 penetrates to one's very marrow. 
 
 It appears that they are becoming more and more reli- 
 gious in Paris. I receive sermons from people from whom 
 I should have expected something quite different. I am 
 told that M. de Persigny has shown himself ultra papist 
 on the Senate's committee of address. I do not believe 
 that there was ever a period when the world was more 
 senseless {bite) than now. I^ast as long as it may, the 
 end is ominous. 
 
 Paris, April, 1863. — Of all the Italian cities, Florence 
 appears to me to have best preserved her characteristics of 
 the Middle Ages. As to Rome let me give you two bits 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 235 
 
 of advice: first, never to be a moment in the air at night- 
 fall, for fear of the Roman fever ; but a quarter of an hour 
 before the Angelas go to St. Peter's and wait until the 
 strange, damp precipitate in the air shall pass by. There 
 is nothing finer for meditation that this great church 
 at that hour, the indistinctness of its vast proportions 
 makes it truly sublime. Think of me when there. My 
 second recommendation is to employ a rainy day in seeing 
 the Catacombs. When there, turn into one of the narrow 
 corridors debouching from the subterranean streets, extin- 
 guish your taper and remain alone for a few moments. 
 You will tell me your sensations. I should have great 
 pleasure in the experience with you, but perhaps our sensa- 
 tions would not be the same. I never succeeded in Rome in 
 carrying out my programme of sight-seeing, for at each 
 street corner one is drawn off by something unforeseen, and 
 the great charm is to yield to impulse. As regards objects 
 of art, study the frescoes, and the views as to nature and 
 art combined. At the Capitol make them show you the 
 wolf of the Republic, which bears trace of the thunderbolt 
 that struck it in the time of Cicero. It is not a thing of 
 yesterday. Try to understand that you cannot see the 
 hundredth part of all that is interesting, and do not regret 
 it ; there will remain one great, harmonious memory worth 
 more than a crowd of souvenirs in detail. Do not forget 
 to see Pompey's statue, at the foot of which Caesar was as- 
 sassinated. Rome is pervaded with a gentle, agreeable 
 melancholy which one recalls with pleasure; for a vivid 
 comparison with which it would be well to pass a week at 
 Naples. Of all transitions it is the most abrupt and amus- 
 ing ; it is comedy succeeding tragedy ; and sends one to bed 
 the mind filled with ludicrous images. 
 
 I do not know whether the cuisine has made any prog- 
 ress in the States of the Holy Father, but in my time it 
 was the " abomination of desolation, * while in Naples it 
 was possible to subsist. 
 
 Society here is astir with the actual or reputed eccentrici- 
 ties of Madame de . Certain it is that she is crazy 
 
 enough to be placed under restraint. She beats her servants, 
 cuffs, boxes the ears, and makes love to her favorites in 
 
236 MERIMEE 
 
 the same breath. She carries her Anglo-mania so far as to 
 drink brandy and water, that is to say, much of the former 
 with little of the latter. The other evening she presented 
 one of her friends to M. Troplong, saying : " Monsieur le 
 President, I bring you my darling. " To which M. Trop- 
 long politely replies, that he is happy to make the ac- 
 quaintance of M. Darling. If all that is told me of the 
 manners of the liounes be true, it is to be feared that the 
 end of the world is near. I dare not tell you all that takes 
 place in Paris among the young representatives of the gen- 
 eration that is to bury us. 
 
 Chateau de Fontainebleau, July, 1863. — No one has 
 time here for anything, and the days pass one knows not 
 how. The chief occupation is eating, drinking, sleeping : I 
 succeed in the first two, in the last very badly, after pass- 
 ing several hours in knee-breeches, in rowing on the lake 
 and getting a frightful cough. There are many well- 
 assorted guests here, fewer officials than usual, which does 
 not, however, detract from the prevailing entente cor- 
 diale. Sometimes v/e walk in the woods, after having 
 picnicked on the grass like tradesmen from the Rue St. 
 Denis. 
 
 Two days ago some very large chests arrived from his 
 Majesty Tu-Duc, Emperor of Cochin China. They were 
 opened in one of the court-yards. Within the large cases 
 were smaller ones painted in red and gold, containing two 
 very yellow elephant's teeth, two rhinoceros' horns, and a 
 package of moldy cinnamon, the whole exhaling incon- 
 ceivable odors. There was also a large quantity of narrow 
 gauze-like stuffs, of every ugly color, more or less soiled, 
 and all musty. Medals, that were among the expected 
 gifts, were absent, and probably remained in Cochin China ; 
 from which it appears that the great Tu-Duc is a swindler. 
 Yesterday we attended the manoeuvres of two regiments of 
 cavalry, and were all cooked by the heat ; all the ladies 
 had a sun-stroke. To-day we are to have a Spanish dinner 
 in the Forest, and I am intrusted with the gaspacho, that 
 is to say, imposing raw onions on the ladies, who would 
 swoon at the mere mention of the vegetable. I have for- 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 237 
 
 bidden that they be warned, and after they have eaten it, 
 I shall make my confession to them in the style of At- 
 reus. 
 
 I/ONDON, August, 1863. — I expected to find London 
 empty, and in fact such was my first impression ; but at 
 the end of two days I discovered the great ant-hill to be 
 still swarming, and, alas ! that they dined quite as often 
 and as interminably as last year. Is not the slowness of 
 the dinners inhuman in this country ! It really deprives 
 me of appetite. We are never less than two hours and a 
 half at table, and if the half hour during which the men 
 leave the women to speak ill of them be added, it is always 
 eleven o'clock when we return to the drawing-room. This 
 would be but a demi-evil could one eat all the time ; but, 
 with the exception of the roast mutton, I find nothing to 
 my taste. 
 
 The great men seem to me to have grown somewhat old 
 since my last visit. Lord Palmerston has given up his 
 false teeth, which changes him very much ; but has 
 preserved his whiskers, and has the air of a gay 
 gorilla. Lord Russell looks less good-humored. The 
 great beauties of the season have left town, but they are 
 not very enthusiastically lauded. The toilets, as usual, 
 struck me as very inferior and crumpled ; but nothing can 
 resist this climate, of which my throat is also a proof. I 
 am hoarse as a wolf, and sufier from suffocation. On my 
 return to Paris, Panizzi will join me, and we are to be 
 carried off to Biarritz by my gracious Sovereign I<ady, who 
 will lodge us for some time on the sea-shore. 
 
 Have you read Renan' s " Life of Jesus " ? It is the 
 stroke of an ax to the edifice of Catholicism. The Bishop 
 of Tulle has issued an order that all the nuns of his dio- 
 cese shall recite Aves in M. Renan's honor, or rather to 
 hinder the devil from flying off with everybody because of 
 this same Renan's book. The author is so frightened at 
 his own audacity in denying the Divinity, that he loses 
 himself in hymns of admiration and adoration, to the dis- 
 paragement of the philosophical intelligence by which alone 
 the doctrine is to be judged. 
 
238 MERIMEE 
 
 Chateau de CompiJ;gne, November, 1863. — Since my 
 arrival here I have led the perturbed life of a manager, 
 having been author, actor, and director. We have played 
 with success a rather immoral piece, of which I will tell 
 you the story on my return. We have had very fine fireworks, 
 though a woman who examined the fusees too closely was 
 killed outright. You do not tell me what has become of 
 the charming child in whom you are interested. Train her, 
 I beg of you, so that she be not a fool like the majority 
 of women of the present day. If those in the Provinces 
 are worse than in Paris, I do not know in what desert we 
 shall seek refuge. We have here a fine slip of a girl, five 
 feet four inches tall, with the pretty ways of a grisette, 
 and a mixture of ease and honest timidity sometimes very 
 amusing. Some fear was entertained lest the second part 
 of a charade should not correspond with the beginning — 
 (a beginning of which I was the author) : * It will go off 
 very well," said she: "We shall show our legs in the bal- 
 let, and that will make up for all." — N. B. Her legs are 
 like flageolets and her feet are far from aristocratic. 
 
 Cannes, yawwary, 1864. — I am charmed that Aristophanes 
 is so fortunate as to please you. There are doubtless many 
 things that shock your prudery, but which will interest you 
 now that you have learned from Cicero something of 
 ancient morals. You ask if the Athenian ladies attended 
 the theatre. I,earned men are divided in opinion on this 
 point. It is probable that tolerance and intolerance pre- 
 vailed at different periods in the same country, but it is 
 certain that women never appeared on the stage, their r61es 
 being enacted by men, which was the more easy from the 
 custom of wearing masks during the performance. In 
 Algeria you would have found, doubtless, women at the 
 play. In the East, they have not now, and never had in 
 ancient times, the prudery that prevails with women at the 
 present day. An extraordinary point about Aristophanes is 
 the unrestrained way in which he speaks of the gods, even 
 on the occasion of their festival, for it was at the Dionysia 
 that "The Frogs" was represented, in which Bacchus plays 
 so singular a part. The same thing took place in the first 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 239 
 
 ages of Christianity. Comedies were played in church. 
 There was the mass "des sots," and the mass "del'Ane/' 
 the text of which still remains in a very curious manu- 
 script. Apart from the nonsense that Aristophanes threw 
 into his comedies as a seasoning of coarse salt, there are 
 choruses of the finest poetry. My venerated master, M. 
 Boissonade, was of opinion that no Greek had surpassed 
 them. I recommend you to read "The Clouds," the mas- 
 terpiece of Aristophanes. There is in it a dialogue between 
 the Just and the Unjust, of the most elevated style. I 
 think there is truth in his reproaches against Socrates ; 
 even after listening to him in Plato, one is tempted to for- 
 give the hemlock. A man is a pest who, like Socrates, 
 proves every one to be only a fool. 
 
 Paris, April, 1864. — I rarely go into society, but I 
 wished to pay my respects to my masters, whom I found 
 in excellent health ; which gave me also an opportunity of 
 seeing the new fashions, which I admire but indifferently. 
 It is a sign of old age. I cannot become accustomed to 
 the mode of dressing the hair. Not a woman adopts the 
 style suited to her own face ; but all model themselves 
 after the barber's blocks. One of my friends presented me 
 to his wife, a young and pretty person, who was whitened, 
 daubed with rouge, and her eyelashes painted. I was 
 horrified. 
 
 Have you read About's book, Le Progr&s? I do not 
 know if it is successful, but it is very witty. Perhaps the 
 clericals have had the good sense to withhold the ex- 
 communication that never fails to insure wide circulation to 
 a work. It was their fulmination that secured Renan great 
 pecuniary profit ; his idyl having brought him one hundred 
 and seven thousand francs. I keep subject to your order 
 Taine's three thick volumes on the history of English 
 lyiterature. The style is of a somewhat studied elegance, 
 but very pleasant reading. 
 
 I^ONDON, British Museum, July, 1864. — From eight 
 o'clock in the evening until midnight my life is passed at 
 dinner parties, and the morning in looking at books and 
 
240 MfiRIMEE 
 
 statues : or I work at my great article on the son of Peter 
 the Great, which I am strongly inclined to entitle, "The 
 Danger of being a FooP'; for the moral drawn from the 
 work is that intellect is a necessity. You may find here 
 and there something to interest you ; notably, how Peter 
 the Great — a detestable man and surrounded by detestable 
 canaille — was deceived by his wife. I have carefully, and 
 with some difficulty, translated his wife's love letters to 
 her lover, who was impaled for his pains. These letters 
 are really better than could be expected from the age and 
 the country in which they were written ; but love works 
 wonders. The misfortune is that she knows nothing of 
 orthography, thereby rendering her meaning somewhat ob- 
 scure to a grammarian like myself. 
 
 Nothing is talked of here but the marriage of I,ady 
 Florence Paget, the beauty of I/ondon, the last two sea- 
 sons. It would be impossible to find a prettier face on a 
 more delicate figure, too slight and small for my special 
 taste. She was noted for her flirtations. Mr. Ellice's 
 nephew, Mr. Chaplin, of whom you have often heard me 
 speak, a tall young fellow of twenty-five, and with twenty- 
 five thousand pounds per annum, fell in love with her. She 
 trifled with him a long time, finally became engaged to him, 
 and, it is said, accepted from him jewels and six thousand 
 pounds with which to pay her mantuamaker's bills. The 
 wedding day was arranged, and last Friday they went to- 
 gether to the park and the opera. On Saturday morning 
 she left home alone, and proceeding to St. George's 
 Church was married to I^ord Hastings, a young man of her 
 own age, very ugly, and possessed of a slight fault — a 
 passion for cards and wine. After the ceremony they 
 started for the country, and at the first station she wrote 
 to her father, the Marquis of Anglesey: "Dear Papa — As 
 I knew you would never consent to my marriage with 
 Lord Hastings, I was wedded to him to-day. I remain 
 yours, etc. '* She also wrote to Mr. Chaplin : « Dear 
 Harry — When you receive this I shall be the wife of lyord 
 Hastings. Forget yours, very truly, Florence." Poor Mr. 
 Chaplin, who is six feet high and has yellow hair, is in 
 despair. 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 241 
 
 Madrid, October, 1864.— It is terribly cold and damp, and 
 every one is ill, the bad weather having come upon us with 
 excessive violence, according to the custom of this country, 
 where gentle transitions, of whatsoever nature, are un- 
 known. Imagine the misery of people who live on an 
 elevated plateau exposed to every wind of heaven, their 
 only stove being a brasero, a very primitive contrivance, 
 giving one the choice of being frozen or asphyxiated. 
 Civilization has made great progress here, but without a 
 corresponding improvement. The women have adopted your 
 absurd hats and wear them in the most uncouth fashion. 
 The bulls are worthless, and the men who kill them are 
 stupid and cowardly. 
 
 Cannes, January, 1865. — What do you think of the 
 Pope's encyclical? I delight in reading the letters from 
 the Bishops. There is a Bishop here, a man of wit and 
 good sense, who veils his face. There are few attorneys 
 more subtle than these gentlemen ; but the most ingenious 
 
 is M. D , who makes the Pope say precisely the contrary 
 
 of his encyclical and he may possibly be excommunicated 
 at Rome. It is vexatious to serve in an army the general 
 of which exposes one to defeat. Do they hope at Rome 
 that the Marches, the I^egations, and the County of Avignon 
 will be restored to them by a miracle? Tlie misfortune is, 
 that the world is so stupid that to escape the Jesuits it 
 may be necessary to throw ourselves into the arms of mere 
 blusterers. 
 
 The number of English here becomes more alarming every 
 day. A hotel as large as that of the lyouvre has been built 
 on the sea-shore, which is always filled with these Island- 
 ers. One can no longer walk without meeting young 
 Misses in Garibaldi caracos and hats with impossible feathers, 
 making a pretense of sketching. There are croquet and 
 archery parties of a hundred and twenty persons. I regret 
 the good old times when one never met a soul. 
 
 Do you know that I received compliments from every 
 
 quarter on my appointment as successor to M. Mocquard? 
 
 I believed nothing of it, but by dint of seeing my name in 
 
 the newspapers of various countries I began to be uneasy. 
 
 16 
 
242 M^RIMfiE 
 
 With my disposition you may believe how well the position 
 and I should agree ! 
 
 Imagine my reading I^amartine's " Entretiens, " in which 
 I fell on a life of Aristotle, wherein he states that the re- 
 treat of the ten thousand took place after the death of 
 Alexander. Would it not really be better worth while to 
 sell steel pens at the gate of the Tuileries than to utter 
 such enormities? 
 
 Cannes, April, 1865. — Your friend Paradol is Academi- 
 cian through the will of the burgraves, who for this pur- 
 pose obliged the poor Due de Broglie to return to Paris in 
 spite of his gout and eighty years. It will be a curious 
 sitting. Ampere once wrote a very bad history of Caesar, 
 and you may imagine all the allusions that M. Paradol vnll 
 take occasion to make to this work, now forgotten by every 
 one save the burgraves. Jules Janin remains outside of the 
 door, as also my friend Autran from Marseilles, who, as- 
 suming the clerical, was abandoned by his religious friends. 
 
 You have heard, perhaps, that Mr. William Brougham, 
 brother of I^ord Brougham, and his successor in the peer- 
 age, has been caught in the fact in a very ugly matter of 
 cheating. It causes great scandal here among the English 
 colony. Old I^ord Brougham puts a good face on it, and 
 is, of course, a perfect stranger to all such villainy. 
 
 To teach myself patience, and to woo sleep, I am reading 
 a book by Mr. Charles Lambert, who demolishes holy King 
 David and the Bible. I find it very ingenious and rather 
 amusing. Serious and pedantic books at which ten years 
 ago no one would have dreamed of glancing, have now, 
 thanks to the clergy, become popular and widely read. 
 Renan has gone to Palestine to make new studies of land- 
 scape ; Peyrat and this Charles I/ambert are writing books 
 still more serious and learned which sell like bread, my 
 bookseller tells me. 
 
 London, British Museum, August, 1865. — I have been 
 here about six weeks, catching a few days of "the season," 
 and have undergone some terrible dinners and two or three 
 of the last routs. Lord Palmerston strikes me as having 
 
LETTERS TO ANONYMA 243 
 
 grown singularly old, notwithstanding the success of his 
 elections, and it seems to me more than doubtful if he be 
 equal to the approaching campaign. His retirement will 
 insure a fine crisis. I have just passed three days with 
 his probable successor, Mr. Gladstone, who did not amuse, 
 but interested me, for I still find great pleasure in observ- 
 ing varieties of human nature, and here they are so differ- 
 ent from our own as to excite an inexplicable wonder 
 that within ten hours' distance bipeds without feathers 
 should so little resemble those of Paris. In some respects 
 Mr. Gladstone appears to me a man of genius, in others a 
 child. There is in him something of the child, the states- 
 man, and the fou. Five or six deans were at his house, 
 and every morning the guests regaled themselves with a 
 little prayer in common. I did not attend that of Sunday 
 which must be something very curious. What surpassed 
 everything was a sort of half-cooked roll that is taken hot 
 from the oven for breakfast, the digestion of which gives 
 one infinite trouble the rest of the day. In addition to 
 this we had hard dvm, that is to say, Welsh ale, which 
 is very celebrated. You doubtless know that only red hair 
 is worn. Nothing could be easier in this country, and I 
 am quite sure it is not dyed. Not a single horse is to be 
 seen in Rotten Row; but I rather like a great city in this 
 state of semi-death. I profit by it to see the lions. Yes- 
 terday I passed an hour at the Crystal Palace watching a 
 chimpanzee nearly as large as a child ten years old, and 
 whom it so strongly resembled in its actions as to humili- 
 ate me by the incontestable relationship. I begin to tire 
 of I^ondon, and thought for a moment of going to Scot- 
 land, but I should have fallen among sportsmen, a race I 
 abhor. 
 
LAMARTINE 
 
 Twenty-Five Years of My Life 
 
THE GIRONDJNS 
 Photogravure after the painting by Delaroche. 
 
AIvPHONSE DE IvAMARTiNK 
 
 THE public career of Alphonse Marie Louis de Prat de 
 Lamartine was a varied one and is generally familiar. 
 He was born in 1790 and died in 1869. He began 
 his political life as a legitimist, then he leaned to the 
 royalist cause. I^ater on he was a constitutionalist and a 
 republican. The times were stormy for stronger men than 
 Lamartine ever was. His chief work, the "History of the 
 Girondists," paved the way for the revolution of 1848. Its 
 author was at once hoisted into public office. The task of 
 sailing the ship of State was beyond his strength and not 
 wholly to his taste. In less than a year his political star 
 had risen and had set forever. 
 
 As poet and descriptive writer I<amartine will live, 
 though his verse had become moribund before he died. 
 He wrote his histories and memoirs as a poet, which gives 
 their pages the graceful charm that perpetuates them. 
 These passages from his youthful career were not pub- 
 lished until after his death. 
 
 (247) 
 
TWENTY-FIVE YEARS OF MY LIFE 
 
 As To the interest which these memoirs will have in a 
 literary or political sense, I do not exaggerate it one 
 way or the other ; but the following are the reasons 
 which make me think I shall at least be forgiven for their 
 publication. 
 
 I was born in the very midst of the French Revolution — a 
 time of passion, folly, and fury of parties on all sides. My first 
 recollections are of a father in prison ; of a mother a captive 
 on parole in her own house, under a revolutionary guard; 
 of the songs of the "Marseillaise" and the "Qaira," sung 
 in the streets, and echoing, as it were, the anguish in the 
 bosom of the families around us ; of the dull Thuds which 
 followed the stroke of the guillotine in our public squares ; 
 of the march of half-scared troops all day long on the high- 
 way. I used to sing myself the songs I heard others sing 
 — poor, little, unintelligent echo that I was of a world into 
 which I had just entered amid smiles and tears ! My poor 
 mother used to look at me sadly enough. One day a 
 change came : the soldiers overpowered the demagogues ; 
 the guillotine was swept away, and my own family could 
 breathe freely again. We went to seek a humble shelter 
 among our faithful peasants in the country. I,ittle by little 
 we obtained the kind of security granted to proscribed per- 
 sons. Year after year my sisters came to brighten the 
 home, which our devoted servants always maintained on the 
 most comfortable footing ; and here I grew and throve in 
 the midst of our people. 
 
 My mother taught me the existence of that mysterious 
 and Divine Being who is Justice, Power, and what we call 
 Providence. This was to me a great joy : my little mind 
 had been always working ; how I had found a key to the 
 problem of life — the only real and true foundation — in a 
 word, I believed, and prayed. My heart opened to these 
 
 (249) 
 
2SO LAMARTINE 
 
 pious influences ; the spirit of a man began to develop it- 
 self in me ; in a word, the child was being matured. 
 Then came my school and college life, when rude hands 
 fashioned me, in sad contrast to the gentle, loving training 
 of my home. I passed through this ordeal, and came out 
 of it transformed, but not improved. I was an excitable 
 lad, like a will-' o- the- wisp, with no very fixed ideas, and willing 
 enough to float down the flowery stream of life. The Rev- 
 olution broke out again, and I looked upon it as solving 
 for me the mystery of the future. I went into the army : 
 I loved the Bourbons, and thought I would die to serve 
 them. But when peace came I was soon sick of a military 
 life. Napoleon returned, and there was an end of my 
 dreams of glory. I accompanied the Bourbon princes to 
 the frontiers of France, but I did not go beyond — I felt 
 that I belonged to my country above all else. Then came 
 the bloody field of Waterloo : the 20th of March was 
 avenged, and the Bourbons were reinstated. I again took 
 my place in their guard, both from a feeling of honor and 
 of fidelity. But I did not remain there long : I could not 
 stand a life of inactivity and of discipline without glory ; 
 so I again became a vagabond and a wanderer on the face 
 of the earth. Traveling not only dispels our ennui, but in- 
 terests and fills the heart. I led a life of pleasure and of 
 love for several years ; then followed sadness, dissatisfac- 
 tion, and remorse. I resolved at last to do something, and 
 went into diplomacy, for which I felt I was well qualified. 
 Not long after I married a good and accomplished woman 
 who brought me back to all virtuous and domestic habits, 
 and I became once more satisfied, calm, and happy. 
 
 The Revolution of 1830, which drove the elder branch of 
 the Bourbons into exile, induced me to share their fate, in 
 spite of the wishes of the Orleans princes, whom I was 
 very willing to respect, but whom I could not serve. I 
 started for the East, and for two years diverted my mind 
 by traveling in Turkey, the Archipelago, the Holy Land, 
 Syria, and the I<ebanon. I came home. My reputation had 
 grown during my absence. I found myself elected a mem- 
 ber of the Senate. I resolved to abstain from party votes 
 or passions, and to devote myself entirely to the good of 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 251 
 
 my conntry ; thus giving up any chance of promotion or 
 public employment, but preserving my own principles and 
 self-respect. I conquered at last a certain position for my- 
 self, but with difl&culty. Certain literary successes at this 
 time added slightly to my reputation. After ten years, 
 party strife and passions got the upper hand. The very 
 men who had brought about the Revolution of 1830, and 
 the Government of the Orleanists, turned against their own 
 work. I opposed them vigorously ; but I refused every- 
 thing save the pleasure of defeating and overthrowing them. 
 I could not bear that my indignation should be attributed 
 to any other feeling than one of right. I repudiated all 
 idea of intrigues and revolutionary banquets. I struggled 
 at one and the same time against the coalition and the roy- 
 alists of 1830. I had the happiness of being understood by 
 the country and the King, who sent for me and begged me 
 to take oiEce. I refused, though with respectful firmness. 
 I chose to have no r61e but that of a volunteer : all for my 
 country, nothing for myself. The crisis became imminent: 
 there were risings in various places ; the Ministers lost their 
 heads ; the coalition disbanded itself ; the King lost his 
 presence of mind ; the people were in a ferment. At last 
 the Revolution, with which I had nothing on earth to do, 
 was declared. I was only mixed up in it during the last 
 few hours, after the flight of the King. I appeared like 
 Fate, to repress, and, if possible, keep it within bounds. 
 It has been said and written that such and such a faction 
 or secret society brought it about. This is not true. I can 
 appeal to the ocular testimony of thousands — not in defense 
 of myself, but to bear witness to the fact that, finding the 
 Revolution inevitable, it was I who organized it ; and unless 
 we had been content with utter anarchy, what else was 
 there to be done? I asked it of the whole of France. It 
 was a bold step ; but it was a necessary one. The alterna- 
 tive was only a continued and aggravated anarchy. Felix 
 culpa ! The Republic once proclaimed, I found the means 
 of moderating its action. France behaved admirably. For 
 four months we governed in the midst of the storm, with- 
 out what one may call a government at all. Afterward 
 everything was changed. I refused what was offered to me, 
 
252 LAMARTINE 
 
 and returned into obscurity. I had not the vanity to pre- 
 tend to that to which neither my birth nor my talents en- 
 titled me. I bore without complaint fifteen years of unjust 
 reproaches and of continued misfortunes, under which I am 
 now sinking. I worked on courageously, however : I am 
 working still. These events may interest my readers — I 
 write them in good faith. May God be my helper ! 
 
 I was just beginning to see and understand something 
 of outside things when my father and mother carried us 
 off — a whole tribe of children, in a long file of bullock 
 wagons — to establish us and all our worldly goods at 
 Milly. Our dear mother was in the first carriage with two 
 of my sisters on her knees, and another at her breast ; a 
 quantity of loose packages filled up the lumbering vehicle. 
 My father went on foot as a sportsman, carrying his gun, 
 cheering my mother, and helping the carriage when it got 
 into any bad ruts. Two dogs in a leash followed him, and 
 then two more wagons full of maids and nurses and house- 
 hold goods of every description, going at a foot's pace. 
 Then came a carriage containing Mile, de Monceau and her 
 maid. All this formed a regular procession of old-fashioned 
 equipages rolling and tumbling about in the mud, for the 
 public roads in those days were execrable. The cries of 
 the drivers, the lowing of the bullocks, the clamor and 
 fright of the women servants, and the hearty laughter of 
 the children at each fresh misfortune, made up a pictur- 
 esque scene, which was partly amusing and partly touch- 
 ing. We did not arrive at Milly for five or six hours, 
 although it was hardly more than twelve miles. 
 
 Milly was then a poor little village built on the ridge of 
 a hill planted with vines, at some distance from St. Sorlin, 
 which was the rural capital of the country. 
 
 Ever since the spring, my father had come to Milly from 
 time to time to prepare the house for his family. The 
 revolutionists had, to a certain degree, spared the old place, 
 and contented themselves with turning the drawing-room 
 into a dancing saloon on Sundays for the benefit of the 
 neighboring peasantry. The sabots of the dancers had 
 broken the old encaustic tiles into a thousand bits ; not 
 from pure mischief, but simply from a sort of pleasure at 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 253 
 
 profaning a nobleman's house. We stumbled among the 
 broken fragments of pavement until a workman had clums- 
 ily repaired it with large square common bricks. There 
 was not much more damage done. The vines continued to 
 bear and the fruit trees to blossom, so that the traces of 
 the Revolution in Milly might be said to be restricted to 
 the ball-room. Every one — father, mother, aunt, children, 
 and servants — had soon found his or her place in the 
 house. Our only furniture were a few beds, tables, and 
 chairs. The kitchen, soon filled by the peasant women, 
 once more sent up the cheerful smoke from its wide, ingle- 
 nooked chimney. The nurse and children walked and 
 played in the corridor. My father spent his days in hunt- 
 ing or shooting on the mountains. My mother was occu- 
 pied in writing, in the care and superintendence of the 
 house, or in visiting the sick and suffering, with whom 
 she at once made friends, and was beloved as readily as 
 she herself loved all around her. 
 
 Do you wish for a description of these my first happy 
 days at Milly? The account of one day will serve for all 
 the rest. 
 
 No sooner had the first rays of the sun lit up my 
 mother's room, than my father, who was a very early 
 riser, went out walking. A maid used to fetch me and 
 put me into my father's place, by the side of my darling, 
 gentle mother, who used to kiss and pet me, and then 
 teach me to lisp my little prayers. I did not know very 
 well the meaning of the words, or understand what that In- 
 visible and Omnipotent Power was, called God ; but I knew 
 I was doing like mamma, and that was more than enough 
 for me. Most good things are done from imitation. To try 
 and be like what one loves, that is the first instinct of man. 
 At any rate, it was mine. Reasoning one may dispute, but 
 not that which has become a habit. My father was not 
 a very religious, but he was an honest and an honorable 
 man. The love and respect of his wife, whom he adored, 
 made him pious almost in spite of himself. 
 
 After prayers we went to breakfast, I on my nurse's knee, 
 off the vinedresser's soup, which I used to think the best in 
 the world. Then I trotted off into the vineyards to play 
 
254 LAMARTINE 
 
 with my companions (the children of our peasants), or 
 else, like them, to keep the goats and sheep in the moun- 
 tain forests. We used to return when the bell of the old 
 steeple rung the midday Angelus. Then a fuming hot 
 soup with bacon and vegetables awaited us round the 
 homely wooden table ; a repast which I infinitely preferred 
 to the pure white tablecloth and more delicate dishes 
 served to my parents. I remember even now with appetite 
 the little two-pronged, two-penny forks which doubled into 
 our pocket clasped-knives, and with which we used to pick 
 out and eat the boulli of our soup, in little bright red or 
 green varnished earthenware bowls ! Soup has ever since 
 appeared a luxury to me. A cabbage or celery leaf, with 
 a radish, just stirred in what is called "tea-kettle broth," 
 with a bit of black bread, this is the true food of the 
 country peasant. My simple life made me relish the 
 homely fare of the cottager as much as a child who had 
 known nothing else. When I grew older, and was no 
 longer allowed to run wild, and the age of lessons and 
 schools came, I was obliged to give up this simple food of 
 goat's cheese, cabbage, onions, and the like, and made to 
 eat meat, which disagreed with me so much that I had a 
 regular illness in consequence; and, ever since, I have 
 never lost the early tastes contracted at that time. Even 
 when we dined up-stairs, my mother never could persuade 
 us to eat anything but vegetables. 
 
 After dinner, my father used to go back to his shooting 
 on the mountains, sometimes alone, at other times in com- 
 pany with one of his head vinedressers, of whom he had 
 made both a guide and friend. This man, who was in 
 every way superior to his class, was called Claude Chanut, 
 and became quite a favorite with us all. 
 
 Sometimes it happened that we passed the whole winter 
 at Milly, as in a kind of domestic convent, completely 
 snowed up, but visited from time to time by certain old 
 friends of my father's, who were living in hiding, as it 
 were, in the neighboring villages. First, there was the 
 doctor of the canton, who lived with his wife at St. 
 Sorlin, with a son, who became my great friend, and a 
 daughter, whom I should have fallen in love with, if I 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 255 
 
 had been of the right age. Then there was the Chevalier 
 de I,a Cense, a retired officer in the Guards, living with 
 his sister, Mademoiselle de Moleron, in the same village, a 
 cheery, jovial, good-natured man, whose arrival brightened 
 the whole house. Then there was M. de Vaudran, of the 
 Bruys family (one of twenty children, all distinguished in 
 their different careers), living at Bussi^res, in the parish 
 of Milly. M. de Vaudran, who was an old friend of my 
 father's, had been secretary to M. de Villedeuil before the 
 Revolution, and initiated into all the political secrets of the 
 highest society in Paris. He was a Royalist of the good 
 old school — moderate, impartial, and just toward every 
 one, even toward the men who had mingled in the Revo- 
 lution, without having [imbrued their hands in crime and 
 blood. He took pity on my somewhat neglected education, 
 and gave me my first writing-lessons on a little table in 
 the dining-room, for which I have remained eternally 
 grateful to him. His three sisters — simple, gentle, loving, 
 agreeable women, and great friends of my mother's — often 
 accompanied him to Milly. Although obliged, from 
 political circumstances, to live continually in the country, 
 and only associate with people of a humbler class, the 
 natural distinction of their manners, and the companion- 
 ship of their brother, who always spent part of the year 
 with them, gave them a high-bred tone which could not be 
 mistaken; and their entire absence of affectation made their 
 reception of friends in their own home most pleasant ; 
 while their natural grace and dignity gave a special charm 
 to their conversation. 
 
 The Cur6 de Bussi^res their near neighbor, young, hand- 
 some, mundane, amiable, and of elegant and refined habits, 
 was full of respect and deference for these ladies, and he 
 was also a favorite shooting companion of my father's. 
 
 At a quarter of a league from our house, buried in the 
 wooded gorges of the mountains of St. Point, was a site 
 which has enshrined itself in my memory and imagination 
 forever. I mean the village and chdteau of Pierreclos — 
 the habitation of the old Count de Pierreclos, whom I have 
 before mentioned. Walter Scott has nothing more romantic 
 or original in his descriptions of the nature, habits, and 
 
256 LAMARTINE 
 
 dwelling-places of the Scotch lairds. Now for a descrip- 
 tion of the ckdteau itself, its inmates, and the life they led 
 there. 
 
 We used to go and dine there every Sunday after high 
 mass; that is, at a quarter before twelve. After having 
 clambered on foot to the summit of the Csaz mountain, 
 which threw a long gray shadow over the Milly valley be- 
 hind my father's garden, a steep and rapid descent to the 
 right brought us into the Pierreclos valley. A rough path, 
 full of rolling stones, but shaded by old walnut-trees, led 
 us by several barren hamlets to the head of the valley. 
 There the aspect of the scenery changes; the hills, covered 
 with vineyards, slope down toward the rich meadows, irri- 
 gated by bright and rushing streams, and shaded by pop- 
 lars cutting the sky-line, like the cypresses of the South. 
 Very soon the valley widens, and the eye is lost in a dis- 
 tant vapory forest of pines and beech. The background is 
 formed of dark mountains, covered here and there with 
 snow, which lies in deep patches in the hollows. After 
 having walked on a little way on the high-road, we used 
 to perceive a mass of smoke and vapor coming out of the 
 mouths of the village furnaces, which blackened even the 
 walls of the old steeple of Pierreclos. But it was church 
 time, and we hurried into the chapel, where the priest 
 was saying mass. The old lord and his family occupied a 
 bench to the right of the altar. The family consisted of 
 the master of the chdteau, a gouty old man, but with a 
 proud and determined countenance, who looked down with 
 a sort of insolence on his old vassals ; his brother, M. de 
 Berz^, who bore the name of the old Gothic ch&teau of 
 which we spoke just now, between Milly and Cluny; his 
 five daughters, all very pleasing-looking, both in face and 
 figure; and a young son, of about the same age as myself, 
 with whom hereafter I was to be bound in the ties of a 
 warm friendship. As soon as we appeared they made room 
 for us in the church, and we were soon kneeling in our 
 proper seats. The mass being over, the peasants separated. 
 The old lord mounted his horse (with the help of his serv- 
 ants), and rode up to the castle by a steep paved road. 
 We followed on foot with the rest of the family, and wind- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 257 
 
 ing through the vineyards, soon arrived at the iron gates of 
 the chdieau. Nothing could be more imposing than its ap- 
 pearance as you entered. A vast courtyard, which led you 
 through a high subterranean passage, or covered way, to 
 the keep, from which you suddenly emerged into an open 
 sunny space brilliant with flowers, growing up to the very 
 foot of the steeple of the old chapel, which was built on a 
 high terrace to the extreme left of the castle. Then the 
 ground suddenly fell, like a drop-scene in the opera, and 
 revealed to you a mass of towers and pinnacles and quaint 
 Gothic windows and ornaments, the whole lit up and 
 illuminated, as it were, by the setting sun. 
 
 On first entering the large courtyard, I was struck at 
 the sight of a new building not yet finished, on the win- 
 dows of which the workmen, in fact, were still at work. 
 It was evidently intended to replace the old Gothic castle, 
 which, being mainly composed of keeps and square towers, 
 circular staircases, irregular turrets, and pointed roofs, was 
 more picturesque than comfortable, and rather gave one the 
 idea of an aerial village. This old fortress, in reality, had 
 been built on the edge of a promontory, and followed the 
 sinuosities of the rock both above and below, from the 
 summit to the valley. The upper part formed an oval 
 terrace, upon which all the doors opened, whether of the 
 kitchens or drawing-rooms. 
 
 The apartments with the exception of a great stove in an 
 angle of the dining-room, and a magnificent fire-place of 
 black marble in the drawing-room, large enough to burn 
 whole trees at a time, had the appearance of rooms recently 
 restored after a fire the day before. The mortar scarcely 
 filled up the spaces between the stones ; and the walls, 
 guiltless of whitewash, seemed never to have been smoothed 
 by the mason's trowel. The flames had licked the paint 
 off the ceilings, which bore the traces of an incendiary fire, 
 seemingly scarcely put out. 
 
 " Look ! " exclaimed the old Count, showing me the marks 
 of the above-mentioned destruction ; " look at the traces of 
 the passage of those brigands ! Here was the torch of one, 
 there the hatchet of another, a pickaxe was the tool of the 
 third. Ah ! the rascals ! I know them well ; and never in 
 17 
 
258 LAMARTINE 
 
 my lifetime will I suffer the remembrance of these horrors 
 to be effaced." 
 
 In truth in 1790, in the famous and inexplicable day 
 called du Brigandage, this grand old castle had been com- 
 pletely ravaged, and nearly burnt to the ground, by the 
 peasants from the mountains, who had determined to avenge 
 the supposed wrongs of the villagers, and took advantage 
 of the unpopularity of the owner, who was hated by the 
 people, to carry out their nefarious designs. The pillage 
 and devastation were indeed complete. 
 
 His wife and daughters were saved by the fidelity of two 
 or three of their tenant farmers, and concealed in the neigh- 
 boring forest. The Count and his son escaped by a mir- 
 acle, and swore to be avenged. His eldest son emigrated 
 the next day. As to the .old Count himself, he returned 
 after a time to his ruined home, and went on living there 
 till the day when they came to carry off the cannons of his 
 terrace to M&con, at the same time that his whole family were 
 thrown into prison by the agents of the Revolutionary gov- 
 ernment. My father, who in 1790 was on leave at Monceau, 
 armed and moimted the young men of M&con, and pursued 
 the incendiaries to the Chdteau of Cormatin, killing several 
 in an engagement in the neighborhood of Cluny, and hang- 
 ing others on the trees by the roadside, — a service never 
 forgotten in the grateful memory of the old Count. The 
 insurrection was at an end, and order was everywhere re- 
 stored, until the day when the Government, in its turn, 
 had given the signal for persecution, and imprisoned, as we 
 have said, the whole family as Royalists. 
 
 The head of the family had been formerly captain of 
 cavalry during the Seven Years' War. He had been taken 
 prisoner by the Prussians, and used to tell us how the 
 Queen of Prussia, delighted with his good looks and clever- 
 ness, used to knock every morning at his door in the cor- 
 ridor, calling out, * Count Pierreclos ! get up and follow 
 the King's hunting party ! Your horses are waiting. ** 
 "At these words," he added, "I gladly rose, and started 
 for Sans Souci, where we used to eat delicious sour-krout." 
 The Queen of Prussia was always brought into the con- 
 versation. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 259 
 
 On returning from Potsdam, he sent in his resignation, 
 and married a young girl of good family from the neigh- 
 borhood of lyyons. She bore him five or six children, and 
 they lived constantly in the Chateau of Pierreclos, the 
 old Count being the object of the timid fear of the peas- 
 antry, and the ridicule of the middle classes. He was not 
 a bad man at all but absurdly vain and boastful, with a 
 good heart at bottom, though often violent and rough in 
 his manners. His wife had died during their imprisonment. 
 The eldest of his sons had emigrated ; the youngest who 
 was called the Chevalier de Pierreclos, was a boy of my own 
 age, brave, clever, and intelligent, left to nature and with 
 scarcely any education ; but giving promise of what he 
 afterward became — a brilliant adventurer, like the Cheva- 
 lier de Grammont, a hero of the civil wars, of romantic love 
 affairs, of duels, horses, and all that is comprehended in the 
 old term of a " free lance. " We were intimate from chil- 
 dren, and shared in all boyish sports. 
 
 His sisters, older than himself, were handsome, piquante, 
 and original. As they had no mother, they had conse- 
 quently little or no education, properly so called ; they, in 
 fact, brought up one another. There was certainly in the 
 chdteau an old aunt, the only sister of the Count, a clever 
 woman, and as strange as himself ; but who could only 
 have taught cards to her pretty nieces, that being the one 
 occupation of Madame de Moirode from morning till night. 
 She used to come into the drawing-room at eight o'clock 
 in the morning, and sit on a curtained seat, like Madame 
 du Defiant! Then lowering the curtains round her on three 
 sides, to keep out the draught, she would offer cards to all 
 comers : brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, friends — no matter 
 who I playing without a moment's intermission from one meal 
 to another ; resting for a few minutes, perhaps, in the middle 
 of the day, and beginning again with any new-comers till 
 supper-time. 
 
 The Chevalier de Berze, an old cavalry ofl&cer like his 
 brother, the Count de Pierreclos, ran through his whole 
 fortune very early in life, and now had accepted the posts 
 of agent and gardener to the family. In the drawing-room 
 his only functions seemed to be to provide fresh cards, and 
 
26o LAMARTINE 
 
 to bring in fresh logs for the fire. He was a thoroughly 
 good-natured, " serviceable " fellow, ready to do a kind turn 
 to everybody, and universally beloved. I saw him live, 
 grow old, and die, like a living piece of furniture, having 
 no idea in life but that of saying " Yes " to everything 
 proposed by his brother; of bringing the finest melons 
 from the garden to the dining-room, the most beautiful 
 flowers to his nieces, and fresh faggots for the inexhaustible 
 fire-places in both apartments. 
 
 But when the time of the vintage drew near, everything 
 assumed an aspect of work and life and gayety, which 
 metamorphosed the whole country. The peasants loaded 
 their carts with water thoroughly to cleanse the deep wine- 
 presses which were to hold the grapes. The bullocks, 
 coupled together and harnessed at dawn, lifted their intel- 
 ligent heads and velvety eyes under the heavy yoke ; or 
 else ruminated, by the side of the pole, the armfuls of hay 
 which the children gave them. The women, lifting us up 
 in their arms, would help us to scramble up by the axle of 
 the wheels into the vat. This was a large, oval kind of 
 bath, in which the vine-dresser goes to the vineyard, and 
 which he there fills with great bunches of cut grapes to 
 bring them back to the wine-press. Then we were lifted 
 out by the workmen, and our places filled by the contents 
 of their baskets. A quantity of sticky flies and wasps, 
 drunk with the juice of the grape which had already begun 
 to ferment, fell with the fruit into the vat, but either 
 instinct or satiety prevented their stinging us. 
 
 Thus we went joyfully from one vine to the other, help- 
 ing to cut the rich bunches and fill the baskets or bins of 
 one set of reapers after the other. The cleverest and handi- 
 est girls from the neighboring villages formed themselves 
 into bands, slept in the barn at Milly, and were hired as 
 cutters by the owners of the vineyards. They used to walk 
 singing, their pails on their heads, or their baskets on their 
 arms, behind the one who served as guide in the narrow 
 paths between the vines ; and then placing themselves by 
 twenties or thirties, each at the foot of a vine stock, would 
 quickly clear the whole stem with careful, skillful hands, 
 of its rich white or blue burden, squash them in their 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 261 
 
 fingers, and throw them into the bins, which the boys 
 would then carry off to the carts. The very vineyards 
 seemed to sing as their rich produce fell under the scissors ; 
 the earth, as it were, rejoiced at her spoil. We, children, 
 used to follow the carts dripping with their juicy burden ; 
 our little pinafores all stained with the blood of the grape, 
 and meeting with joyous cries each fresh band of workers. 
 The joy ran like the wine from hill to hill. Then we 
 helped to empty the grapes from the vat to the wine-press ; 
 or gathered bunches of fresh grapes to refresh the tired bul- 
 locks, whose carts creaked under their heavy load. Then 
 we would count the number of bins, and run to tell our 
 father, who would calculate the numbers of tuns of wine 
 which would be the final result, and which, in reality, 
 formed our whole income for the year. A few days after, 
 the same work was begun again, until the leaves of the 
 vine, all yellow and seared, had no more fruit to conceal ; 
 until, in fact, the vintage being over and the barrels filled 
 to the brim with wine, the vines were left desolate, the 
 goats picked off the few remaining leaves, and the once 
 busy paths were still as death. 
 
 Then began the spinning of the flax and hemp in the 
 evenings at home ; or else the cracking of the walnuts, 
 which was the last gay work of the season for the villagers. 
 The mistress of the house, by the light of a rustic lamp 
 called a creuse-yeux, gathered round the large kitchen table, 
 children, servants, visitors, and neighbors. The men went 
 to the cellar and brought out huge sacks of nuts, of which 
 the husk, already half rotten, was easily detached from the 
 shell, and threw them on the floor. Every one, armed with 
 a hammer, set to work on a heap of this rich fruit before 
 him, to crack the nuts carefully, and take out the ker- 
 nel (if possible entire) and put them in little heaps, either 
 for sale or for the oil mill. Gay laughter and innocent 
 conversation echoed from one end of the room to the 
 other, and made the work seem like play. When all 
 was done, dancing began, and generally continued till mid- 
 night. 
 
 It was the same with the weaving of the hemp and flax, 
 which used to occupy the winter evenings in the great barn 
 
262 LAMARTINE 
 
 until the tow merchant came round and bargained for the 
 long hanks of yarn and vegetable silk, the produce of which 
 was the gain of the wives and daughters and women- 
 servants of the house, and often served to keep them 
 in clothes altogether. We used to take our share in all 
 these works with our servants and peasants, as was the cus- 
 tom in those primitive days. The presence of our gentle 
 mother was a check on any light or improper word or 
 action ; for she had won the respect and love of the whole 
 neighborhood. 
 
 Our conversations at these gatherings was generally on 
 the subject of the good or bad crops ; the price of wine 
 or wheat; the marriage of this or that village lad or girl; 
 the wages of the women-servants, which generally consisted 
 of ten crowns (thirty francs) a year, six yards of un- 
 bleached linen for shifts, two pairs of sabots, a few yards 
 of stuff for petticoats, and five francs as a present on New 
 Year's Day. These were the current wages of servants in 
 those days. They are now at least ten times as much ; 
 but I doubt if the people themselves are one whit richer or 
 happier. Money only represents, under one denomination 
 or other, a certain amount of wants. All is equal, except 
 in the mind of man. 
 
 Very often, on coming out of some sanguinary revolution- 
 ary crisis, very terrible at the time, perhaps, but quickly 
 forgotten, the talk among the elder men became political — 
 that is to say, militarj'. Itinerant hawkers used to come 
 round to our doors, crying out, " Great battle between the 
 French, under command of General Bonaparte, in Italy, 
 and the English or Germans" (or else it was "Moreau on 
 the Rhine," or "Massena in Switzerland," or « Macdonald 
 in Suabia," or " Hoche in the Palatinate," or « Marceau in 
 Germany" ). Then the peasant would rush out of his cabin, 
 while the hawker unrolled to his admiring eyes highly- 
 colored portraits of heroes, and he listened with all his ears 
 to the startling tale of battles won, and heroic escapes, or 
 glorious death-scenes; and bought for a penny the true(?) 
 history of all these feats of arms. He would then nail 
 them up on his wall, or get his wife to sew them on the 
 serge curtains of his bed, where they remained for himself 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 263 
 
 and his family as a true history of France and of her 
 doughty deeds to all time. 
 
 The first political enthusiasm with which I was myself 
 fired was in the village square adjoining our own courtyard. 
 There was a young man named Janin, a little better edu- 
 cated than his neighbors, who taught the village children 
 the elements of reading and writing. One day he stepped 
 out of the cabin which served as a school, and sounding a 
 drum and a clarionet of which he had somehow become pos- 
 sessed, he quickly attracted all the boys and girls in Milly ; 
 to whom he commenced showing off a quantity of pictures 
 of military heroes, which he had obtained from one of 
 these hawkers, who was standing by his side. "l/ook," 
 he exclaimed, " at this picture of the battle of the 
 Pyramids, gained by General Bonaparte ! He is this little 
 dark, thin man, whom you see here mounted on a horse 
 as yellow as gold, which is rearing and plunging, with 
 his long sabre in his hand, before that mass of cut 
 stone which is called the Pyramids, and who is saying to 
 his soldiers, ' From up there, forty centuries look down 
 upon you. * " 
 
 But his eloquence was rather lost on his audience, who 
 did not understand a word of it, and preferred Augereau 
 galloping on a white charger and crossing the Rhine with 
 one bound, as if he had been carried on the wings of Vic- 
 tory herself ; or Berthier, tearing a swan's quill from his 
 floating plume to write the staff orders with a pensive coun- 
 tenance. But Kldber with his drum-major's figure and 
 size, carried the day, and excited the enthusiasm and plau- 
 dits of the whole hamlet. 
 
 The hawker passed the morning selling these pictures of 
 national glory from house to house, with Janin to explain 
 the subjects of each. His enthusiasm spread the excitement 
 over the whole country, and no one shared in it more viv- 
 idly than myself. It was thus that I first began to under- 
 stand what was meant by military glory. A horse, a plume, 
 a sabre were henceforth to me symbolical of great things. 
 The people were fired with a military ardor, which lasted 
 a long time. All through the winter evenings nothing was 
 talked of but the hawker, and Janin was continually sum- 
 
264 LAMARTINE 
 
 moned to explain again the text of these wonderful, and of 
 course truthful pictures. 
 
 Time went on, and I was eleven years old. My father 
 began to talk seriously of sending me to school ; but it was 
 difficult to decide, because, since the Revolution, no public 
 school existed, if we except certain private houses, more or 
 less famous at Paris or at I^yons, and a College of Jesuits 
 (who were then called Fathers of the Faith), whom the 
 uncle of Bonaparte, Cardinal Fesch, protected on the fron- 
 tiers of Italy, in the little town of Belley, in Bugey. My 
 mother very much wished that my father would decide on 
 sending me to this college, which had a very high reputa- 
 tion for piety and learning. The greater portion of the 
 noble familes of Piemont, I,ombard3', Turin, Alessandria, 
 and Milan, sent their children there. But my mother was 
 opposed by all the rest of the family, who wished me to go 
 to a private house in Lyons, called the house of La Caille, 
 at la Croix Rousse, and which also was well spoken of. 
 My uncle, M. de Lamartine, did not much like the Jesuites ; 
 my father was indifferent, but above all wished to please 
 his brothers and sisters, on whom my future fortune de- 
 pended. So that he ended by saying " Yes, " and my 
 mother rather sorrowfully took me to Lyons. 
 
 How sad was my departure from Milly ! It was the first 
 deep wound my heart had received, and I felt it bitterly. 
 How broken-hearted I was at saying good-by to the old 
 servants, who all loved me, and I them, and especially Ja- 
 nette, a charming and beautiful girl from the mountains, 
 whom I cried terribly at parting with, and whom I left 
 equally bathed in tears ! Janette came to kiss me in my 
 little bed, and I started for Lyons as if it were (as in re- 
 ality it was to me) for the other world. From that hour 
 Milly, its rocks and vineyards, its peasants and servants, 
 and all belonging to it, seemed to be graven in my memory 
 as a warm and living thing which formed a part of my 
 very self. Alas ! I have had to part with it all since, down 
 to the very stones. And when I pass by the road, I turn 
 away my head, that I may not see it, and do not look 
 round till the ruined steeple and vine-covered hills have 
 altogether disappeared from my sight. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 265 
 
 Hardly had I returned to Milly than I felt what a diffi- 
 culty a young man of my age and class must be to my 
 father and mother. What was to be done with a youth 
 too old to remain idle, too distinguished in his studies not 
 to be ambitious, and too aristocratic to serve the new 
 Government? The embarras was great, and helped to 
 strengthen my besetting sins of indolence and indecision. 
 I should not have minded going into the law courts, where 
 many of my companions were learning to become future 
 counselors or judges ; but the pride of my family revolted 
 against the law as a profession. To join the army, which 
 I should have preferred, would have involved me in the 
 service of the present dynasty, which my parents might 
 recognize, but whom they would not allow me to serve. 
 To be auditor of the Council of State (which was offered 
 to me) would result in my being forced to be a flatterer 
 and a tool of the Imperial rigime. Not one of these posi- 
 tions was possible to one of my birth, society, or ante- 
 cedents ; so that there was no alternative but to wait. 
 
 Things remained in this state of indecision during the 
 autumn and winter which followed my leaving college. 
 
 But, at the end of the following year, my father and 
 mother took us to pass the winter at Mdcon, in a large 
 house which they had just bought, and in which we in- 
 stalled ourselves. There I first learned to understand what 
 was meant by a serious passion. It was my first real love. 
 Now, it appears to me to have been only the shadow of 
 it ; but the impression it left on my mind was deep and 
 lasting. The lady who awoke this feeling in my heart 
 died not long ago ; therefore I can speak of her without 
 fear ; and, indeed, there was nothing in the smallest de- 
 gree to throw a shade on her memory in the reciprocal 
 affection of two children, for such we both were. 
 
 There was, then, at that time in MScon, a young girl of 
 fifteen or .sixteen, of whom all the town spoke in raptures, 
 not only on account of her great beauty, but of her sin- 
 gular talents and modest grace. Her name was Mile. P. 
 On her mother's side she was noble : on her father's of the 
 middle class; so that both held her in equal honor, and 
 she was received with the most flattering distinction in 
 
566 LAMARTINE 
 
 both sets of society. She had one brother, a vulgar, com- 
 monplace man, who seemed to have united in his own 
 person all the defects of the father ; while his sister had 
 reproduced all the beauty and refinement of the mother, 
 who, in fact, only cared for her. The father never ap- 
 peared in the drawing-room ; he lived alone in his own 
 apartments. The son mixed with the lowest set in the 
 town. ^Everything was as aristocratic about the wife as it 
 was plebeian about the husband. There were, in fact, two 
 houses under the same roof ; and, in visiting the mother, 
 you were not censi to know the father, although he was a 
 jnan of the strictest probity and honor. These contradic- 
 tions rarely occur but in small country towns. 
 
 Mile. P. wore on her face the signs of this strange 
 destiny. She had the most delicate and beautiful figure 
 which any sculptor ever idealized in a sylph. She danced 
 as the dragon-flies skim over the water, her feet scarcely 
 touching the ground. At every ball at which she was 
 present, when the orchestra struck up a waltz, a circle was 
 sure to be formed round her ; the women to envy, the men 
 to rave about her ; but she never seemed to be conscious of 
 it. This wonderful grace was part of her very nature. 
 Her little oval head resting on her small white neck was 
 beautifully formed. Her eyebrows were finely marked, and 
 her long eyelashes shading her soft downcast eyes, made 
 her look like a statue of Purity. Her half -shut eyes, her 
 little half-open mouth, her delicate features, and her clear 
 and transparent complexion, gave her face an expression 
 which it was impossible to forget. 
 
 It was thus that this beauty suddenly appeared to me, 
 and love first said to my heart, "HERE I am." I felt a 
 longing desire to go out of the ball-room and breathe the 
 cold fresh air on the borders of the Sa6ne. I did so, and 
 came back when the orchestra struck up a second waltz — 
 then went out — then came back again, till my friends 
 burst out laughing at my proceedings, and called out to 
 me, as I was disappearing a third time, " Stop ! Mile. P. 
 is going to dance." She heard them, and cast a grateful 
 glance at me in passing, as much as to say, "I saw you, 
 and I shall think of you even when waltzing with another. " 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 267 
 
 Every time she passed me, she gave me the same kind, 
 fixed look. That is how our acquaintance began. 
 
 When the ball was over, I staggered out like a drunken 
 man. I followed a whole troop of young men who escorted 
 her to her door. I saw that, after having wished them 
 good-by, she still sought some one else. I did not dare 
 advance, or go back. I stopped still. The door, which 
 opened on some turning steps, as is often the case in 
 M^con, was suddenly thrown open, and threw her back 
 <iown the first step. Her mother uttered a cry of fear. I 
 rushed forward and caught her, as she was falling, in my 
 arms. Directly after I wanted to retire, but her mother 
 called me back. " Ah, sir ! " she said, " you must give us 
 leave to express our thanks ; come in ; and as our intro- 
 duction has been so obliging a one on your part, I must 
 insist on making your acquaintance, and my child will 
 promise you the first dance at the next ball." I followed 
 her into the drawing-room where she gave us tea, and I 
 asked permission to come the following day and inquire 
 after the young lady. Her mother granted it with great 
 kindness, her daughter thanked me with a look. I went 
 out of the house mad with joy. For a long time I 
 watched from the angle of the quay, the lights from her 
 window, which gradually went out ; and I felt that that 
 beautiful pure child was dreaming in her little bed. Did 
 she think of me? I wondered. I came home very late and 
 alone ; but I could not sleep ; my heart was too overflowing 
 with happiness. 
 
 The next day, when the salon of Madame P. opened to 
 receive her friends, I was one of the first arrivals. I found 
 Mile. P. alone. She was evidently as much afraid of miss- 
 ing my visit as I was of not finding her. Thus our two 
 hearts understood each other without a word ; the same 
 electric spark of sympathy ran through us both. The 
 mother came in soon after, and received me as if I had 
 been an old friend of the family. She did not visit my 
 mother, for they were not in the same set of society. She 
 knew her, however, by sight, and had that affectionate re- 
 spect for her character which every one felt in the country. 
 But the pride of my uncles and aunts would not have per- 
 
268 LAMARTINE 
 
 mitted the mixture of the old nobility with the new rigime, 
 or allowed them to be invited to our house. We only met, 
 therefore, at the balls of the Prefecture, or at the/^fej oc- 
 casionally given in the Town Hall, when there was, of 
 course, a mixture of classes. 
 
 Madame P. was proud of her daughter. She had given 
 her the education of an artist. She had learned every pos- 
 sible accomplishment, especially dancing ; that silent art 
 which suited the dangerous times in which we lived, when 
 an imprudent or incautious word might have had serious 
 consequences. In those days a good dancer was as much 
 esteemed as a clever orator or writer is now. Mile. P. was 
 really a modern Terpsichore. Her tall and elegant figure, 
 the perfect suppleness and grace of her movements, the 
 beauty of her arms, the delicacy of her feet, the soft lan- 
 guor of her expression, captivated every one even before 
 she moved ; but when she began to dance, her lightness 
 was such that she seemed hardly to touch the ground. 
 
 Her mother never took her eyes off her child. You saw 
 that she was wrapt up in her, and that she was in fact 
 the pride of her life. She had heard people speak of me 
 as having had a brilliant career at college, of which not 
 only my family but all Micon was proud. She was conse- 
 quently flattered that I should have become the admirer of 
 her daughter. She treated me as somebody and something 
 above the rest, and flattered my self-love almost to the ex- 
 tent of compromising her charming child. In the very 
 first conversation we had together she took care to make 
 me understand that there were but two beings among the 
 young people of Micon whom she considered worthy of at- 
 tention — her daughter and myself : the one for her beauty and 
 talents ; the other for my birth, and for the superiority I 
 had shown to all my academical rivals. She thus, as it 
 were, set us apart, in a little world, to ourselves — a po- 
 sition which we were nothing loth to accept. At our very 
 first meeting our eyes had said the same thing to each 
 other, and we did not want even her mother's help to fall 
 in love ! Henceforth there was a sweet mystery between 
 us ; that is, we adored each other, and despised every one 
 else. Her mother was a sort of accomplice, as she had 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 269 
 
 been, from the first, our confidante. I very soon became 
 the friend of both, and the habitue of the house. All the 
 town seemed to me to favor my suit. Every one was full 
 of the passionate affection which had broken out between 
 the queen of the balls, Mile. P., and the young student 
 from Milly, who had so distinguished himself at college, 
 and had fallen in love at first sight. Men smiled and 
 women sympathized in our wooing. My family only either 
 did not or would not see what was going on; and I took 
 care not to enlighten them. 
 
 There was a lady in M^con, Madame I<. , who was noted 
 for her beauty, but of a rather doubtful reputation, and 
 who had married, late in life, an old Knight of St. I^ouis, 
 who was a near relation of my father's. She kept open 
 house, receiving every evening a large and somewhat mixed 
 society, among whom Madame P. and her daughter were 
 always found. When eight o'clock struck, Madame L. used 
 to retire to her own apartments ; but the party went on, 
 and Madame P. and her daughter and a good number of 
 young people stayed chatting till midnight, or else got up 
 some music, with that easy, happy familiarity which is the 
 result of intimate acquaintance on all sides. One heard 
 bright jokes and merry laughter all round ; but the happiest 
 were those who, like me, leaning over the piano, listened 
 breathlessly to the touching voice which spoke words under- 
 stood only by ourselves. Such were our happy evenings ; 
 and, when we parted, it was sadly, perhaps, but full of 
 hope for the morrow. We did not use to say much to each 
 other, but our silence was understood, and without words 
 we knew at what hour we should pass by a certain street 
 the next day, at what precise time we should meet in the 
 green paths of St. Clement, and exchange a look — without 
 stopping to speak, or awakening the suspicion of indifferent 
 people ; sure of one another, and reckoning on making up 
 for our silence by a long talk in the evening. Until then 
 it was joy enough to have seen each other, if but for a 
 moment. When a ball drew near, the consultation as to the 
 dress to be worn, and the color of the bouquets to be chosen, 
 was quite sufficient to satisfy us. Each understood the 
 other, and our hearts needed no further symptoms of a love 
 
^^o LAMARTINE 
 
 which knew no bounds. Her mother did not attempt to 
 interfere with us. I saw, on the contrary, that she enjoyed 
 it. As to the father, he never appeared, either in his own 
 house, or in any other society. He was constantly at mag- 
 istrates' meetings, or in his own quarters; and only saw 
 his child's dress as she crossed the road to go to the ball, 
 of which she was the chief ornament. 
 
 Thus passed this happy and mysterious winter, which 
 appeared to me to last but a day. 
 
 However, spring came, and the first green of the meadows 
 gave a tender shade to the willow leaves by the river side. 
 Walks outside the town, in which we always contrived to 
 meet, had replaced the musical soiries at Madame de I/.'s. 
 A young lady of MScon generally accompanied Mile. P., 
 and by her amiable conversation enabled me to have many 
 a tHe-h-tite talk with her whom I loved. We profited by 
 these moments, which friendship had so good-naturedly con- 
 trived for us ; and it was very rarely that we met any one, 
 or were interrupted. However, once or twice we met a 
 man standing at the corner of the hedge close to the charm- 
 ing village of St. Clement, and he always bowed and looked 
 at us with a certain amount of curiosity. This gentleman, 
 whom I only knew by name, was, however, well-known in 
 the town. He was an old friend of the family of P., and 
 lived, since the Revolution, on a pretty little property in 
 the village of St. Clement, where he was looked upon as a 
 speculative philosopher, given chiefly to agriculture and 
 contemplation. I appeared to be a special object of his at- 
 tention, which rather annoyed me and made me anxious. 
 I fancied that the rumor of my attentions to the young 
 lady had reached him, and that he perhaps wished to judge 
 by my appearance, if I were a man calculated to make her 
 happy. I did not dare own my fears, however, to her who 
 was the cause of them. But, before long, I did not fail to 
 be enlightened on the subject. 
 
 Some days after, Madame P. told me that M. F. C. had 
 the custom of giving a little f^te champitre every spring to 
 her daughter and herself in his orchard at St. C16ment ; 
 that his wife helped him to do the honors with her beauti- 
 ful flowers and her fresh eggs and cream, which were noted 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 371 
 
 all over the country ; that he had written to propose the 
 following Sunday in the afternoon for their visit ; that, hav-, 
 ing seen us together several times, he had ventured to ask 
 me to join them, and had begged her to be the bearer of 
 the invitation. I was delighted to have my share in this^ 
 little family gathering, and concluded, in consequence, that 
 I was not displeasing to their old friend and counselor. I 
 saw that Mile. P. was equally pleased, and prepared myself 
 joyfully for the Sunday's fite. Madame de L. and Madame 
 de X. were also invited ; but I was the only man admitted, 
 which filled me with hope. 
 
 At last the Sunday came, and Madame P., her daughter, 
 her two friends, and I started separately for St. Clement, 
 not to attract the attention of the Micon gossips. We met 
 in the steep and narrow path which led to M. F. C.'s villa, 
 about half a league from the town, and in a few minutes 
 found ourselves at the door. Mons. and Madame F. C. 
 were waiting for us on the threshold, and received us as if 
 we were the only guests they expected in the course of the 
 year. Their first kind words were for me. "Young man,* 
 said the philosopher, * you are welcome to my hermitage ; 
 and, as you are the friend of these ladies, you must look 
 upon us likewise as your friends, for we have none dearer 
 at Mdcon." Then, taking the arm of Mile. P., while his- 
 wife took the other ladies into the house, he led her and 
 me all over the gardens, kiosks, and orchards of his pretty 
 home, and made us eat the strawberries and cherries which 
 grew in his beds in such wonderful profusion. "What a 
 delicious place ! " we exclaimed, " and how one would like 
 to live here forever ! " " Yes, " replied the old man, smil- 
 ing ; " but to be perfectly happy there must be Two, must 
 there not, for nature only seems to grant happiness to man 
 on that condition ? " Mile. P. blushed and looked at me as 
 she hung down her head. I colored too. But our host 
 did not seem to perceive it, and went on gathering some 
 beautiful large gooseberries, and throwing them into her 
 lap, while our talk became more and more intimate, till at 
 last on suddenly turning a corner, we found ourselves op- 
 posite a thatched summer-house, where the luncheon was 
 already prepared. We went in with him, and exclaimed at 
 
272 LAMARTINE 
 
 the beauty of the fruit, the richness and thickness of the 
 cream, the great cheeses of St. Clement, the delicate cakes, 
 so exquisitely light and varied, and all made by bis wife ; 
 and at the good wines, both white and red, which were the 
 produce of his own vineyard. " Let us sit down, dear chil- 
 dren," said the old man, " while we are waiting for those 
 ladies ; let us have a little comfortable chat. Now tell me 
 young man, what do you like best in my country retreat? " 
 he added, with a kind smile. * I can feel nothing but the 
 happiness of being here, sir,* I replied. Mile. P. looked at 
 me again and colored. "But," he continued, "one sees the 
 sun this year everywhere. So you do the running waters, 
 and the shady nut avenues, and the flowers and the fruits. 
 Can you not find all these equally at Macon?" I smiled, 
 and replied, "Yes, certainly one can find these things else- 
 where." "Well, then, it is not this which makes you so 
 happy that you feel that you cannot be more so ! What is 
 it, then? Now to enable you to find out, I am going to 
 leave you for a few moments, and go and seek those ladies. 
 You shall tell me when I come back." And he went out 
 with an air of secret satisfaction, and left us together. 
 
 As for me, I was certainly a thousand times hapjMer than 
 I had ever been in my life, but also a thousand times more 
 timid and embarrassed. My looks, my sighs, and my atten- 
 tions had often told her the state of my feelings ; but I had 
 never ventured on any actual avowal of my passion till this 
 old man, as it were, forced it upon me. Covering my face 
 with my hands, I remained silent. 
 
 " Let me go ! " exclaimed the poor child, her shaking 
 voice betraying her emotion ; and she got up to escape. 
 These words broke the spell, which seemed to enchain my 
 speech. " Oh, no ! " I at last cried, throwing myself at her 
 feet. " You shall not go till my heart has spoken. Do not 
 look at me ; but let me only say that what makes me so 
 intensely happy here is neither the sun, nor the trees, nor 
 the flowers, nor the waters; but simply that I am here 
 with YOU, and that I can at last tell you how I love you." 
 A soft sigh was my answer. "I^et us go," she repeated; 
 " though I have said nothing, you will understand me. " 
 We went out after this double avowal, both of us scarlet 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 273 
 
 with emotion, and soon met the old man, talking in a low 
 voice with Madame P., who was leaning on his arm. We 
 turned away, but he had seen our troubled faces, and under- 
 stood all. 
 
 When we returned to the house, we found the rest of 
 the company. Madame F. C. made us see the inside of 
 her house, the library, the drawing-room, the court-yard, 
 the pigeon and chicken-houses, until our emotion was a little 
 calmed, and then they came to announce that the luncheon 
 was waiting in the summer-house. A silent joy filled both 
 our hearts, which were overflowing with tenderness and 
 trust. At last we felt sure of our mutual love. The old 
 man seemed as happy as we were. He talked to us all the 
 time about the happiness of his country life, alone with the 
 only human being he cared for, and who was his wife. 
 Mile. P. looked at me from time to time with a soft smile. 
 I felt I had nothing more to wish for here below. I came 
 back in the evening, walking before Madame P. and her 
 friends, and telling her daughter all the thoughts of my 
 heart — thoughts which I did not know I possessed till 
 then, and which she alone could have inspired. Everything 
 now was understood and clear between us, and we had 
 only to wait till circumstances should enable us to con- 
 summate the happiness the first germs of which had been 
 revealed to us in the summer-house. 
 
 A few moments later our hopes were rudely dashed to 
 the ground. I had gone home with them, and we were 
 sitting side by side on a sofa, while her mother was dress- 
 ing in an adjoining room, of which the door opened into 
 the drawing-room. We spoke low ; for who likes such con- 
 fidences to be overheard, however innocent? The mother, 
 who thought our silence strange, suddenly and softly opened 
 her door, and while I (who |had my back turned to the 
 door) was whispering my fond hopes into the ear of her 
 daughter, I felt a heavy hand laid upon my head ; while 
 with the other arm, she violently pushed her child away 
 from me. " Is this the riticence which you had promised 
 me, and in which I was such a fool as to confide ? Leave 
 my house this instant, sir ; and you, mademoiselle, take 
 care never to appear without me in a room where this 
 18 
 
274 LAMARTINE 
 
 young man is present. You are both unworthy of my 
 trust ! " I sprung up, humbled and indignant, at this un- 
 expected outburst. Taking my hat, I prepared to leave ; 
 but protesting against this unfair imputation on the purity 
 of her child. The poor girl herself burst into tears, and 
 indignantly repelled her mother's unworthy suspicions. 
 Madame P. saw she had spoken precipitately, and coloring, 
 made some excuse. After a time we made it up. We 
 promised to hold our tongues, and be only to each other as 
 a very dear brother and sister. Our love remained the same 
 as ever — the dream of two young pure hearts, who had 
 nothing to reproach themselves with but love. 
 
 It was, however, impossible to stop the gossip of the 
 town, and the afifair soon came to the ears of my family. 
 My mother spoke to me about it. I answered by asserting 
 that I never could love a more accomplished or charming 
 girl. She was wise, and agreed with me as to the superior- 
 ity of Mile. P. ; but she represented to me, tenderly yet 
 firmly, that we were both too young to think of .settling 
 in life, and that we must wait many years before it would 
 be prudent to think of marriage. This answer calmed and 
 quieted us, without extinguishing our mutual passion. Not 
 to argue or positively refuse, but to counsel hope and pa- 
 tience, is the wisest remedy for the insane desire of extreme 
 youth. I felt that I must have some change of scene and 
 thought. My family were of the same opinion, and ar- 
 ranged it as if by chance. 
 
 The daughter of Madame de Roquemont (that cousin of 
 my mother's of whom I have before spoken) had just mar- 
 ried at I/yons. The honeymoon was to be spent in Italy. 
 Certain business reasons served as a pretext for the young 
 couple to visit Milan and Leghorn, where their parents had 
 correspondents in certain commercial houses. It was settled 
 that I was to accompany them. Three months before they 
 had come to MScon to see my mother, and now they re- 
 turned to arrange about the time of our departure. 
 
 This journey to Italy was an immense joy to me. I left 
 my love, it was true, but only for a few months, with the 
 certainty that she would remain true to me, and with her 
 equally firm persuasion that I should return with a heart 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 275 
 
 as devoted to her as ever. The trial was short; the hap- 
 piness certain. So I gave my whole mind to learning 
 Italian, and devoted myself especially to Tasso, Ariosto, 
 Alfieri, and others. Toward the end of that spring we 
 parted. I had a perfect thirst for traveling. It seemed to 
 me like the passion of the Infinite, which had no limits. 
 Each new country appeared as a new world added to crea- 
 tion. My delighted curiosity seemed to grow at every turn 
 of the wheel. 
 
 At last we got to I^eghorn, on the borders of that 
 exquisite Mediterranean — a visible infinity to infinite 
 thought ! 
 
 My traveling companions having the intention of spending 
 some months here, took a house ; while I went to a hotel 
 in the next street, from whence I came every day to dine 
 with the family. I passed several months in this way, 
 hard at work all day at the I^ingua Toscana ; and all the 
 evenings at the theatre or the opera ; but I found time to 
 write to my mother, and that with all the pride of my 
 newly acquired knowledge. I may say that this time was 
 my honeymoon of thought : my enthusiasm had found a 
 new element on which to feed. I wrote also occasionally 
 to Mile. P.; but, at the risk of shocking my readers, I 
 must own that my passion for her had a good deal cooled, 
 and at last froze, like a globe which is removed from the 
 sun. I had a pleasing remembrance of her, but that was 
 all ; my new passion for traveling had extinguished my 
 rural flame of St. Clement. The remarkable faces of the 
 Italian women had not perhaps more beauty than Mile. P., 
 but of a far more sensational kind. And then they were 
 Tuscans, and their beautiful tongue seemed to me to have 
 the accent of heaven itself. 
 
 The month of October drew near when we were to start 
 for Rome and Naples. But letters from Lyons changed the 
 plans of my companions. It was decided that they should 
 return home at once, without proceeding any farther on 
 that delightful tour which we had planned together! The 
 blow was terrible ; but I soon determined that their plans 
 should not affect mine. I wrote to my father begging his 
 permission to continue my journey, saying that I was only 
 
276 LAMARTINE 
 
 a few steps from Rome, that dream of my youth, and very 
 few more from Naples, the centre of all human delights ; 
 that it would be too cruel to dash the cup from my 
 lips, which I had only just begun to taste; that I had 
 enough money to spend the winter at Rome ; that, in the 
 spring, I should obtain from M. Dareste de la Chavanne 
 (a relation of my mother's living in Italy) the sum neces- 
 sary to go on to Naples ; and that, therefore, I was going to 
 take his permission for granted and start for Rome where 
 his answer would find me. It was a bold step on my part ; 
 but, after all, not an unreasonable one. 
 
 Having written, I waited a few days for a reply ; de- 
 termined, however, that, should it be in the negative, it 
 would arrive too late ; and then started joyfully back to 
 Florence, to make the necessary arrangements for my soli- 
 tary journey to Rome. 
 
 There were only two regular ways of traveling at that 
 time in Italy — by post or vetiutino; but the former was 
 beyond my means, and the latter was too hopelessly slow. 
 Sometimes one had to wait for five or six days before the 
 driver had made up his party ; and then, going on always 
 with the same horses, which had to stop and bait con- 
 tinually on the road, you were an age reaching your desti- 
 nation. 
 
 From time to time, however, you could get a place in 
 the mail-cart; and that I determined to try for. A man 
 named Taglia Vino offered me a place in one of these 
 conveyances; we were to sleep for two or three hours in 
 an osteria in the mountains ; but to reach Rome in four or 
 five days. I agreed to be ready the following evening at 
 night-fall in one of ^htt faubourgs of Florence; and accord- 
 ingly, at the given hour, Taglia Vino and his carriage 
 made their appearance. 
 
 I found four persons already settled inside, but my 
 curiosity as to my fellow-travelers had to wait till daylight, 
 for they all went to sleep soon after we started. 
 
 The first was a young man toward whom every one 
 showed great respect. Taglia Vino knew him and called 
 him «M. Le Due," and was constantly on the watch to do 
 him some little service. This care seemed to me to be 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 277 
 
 needful; for though the weather was excessively cold, and 
 we had to cross the snowy mountains of Camaldoli, he 
 wore the thinnest possible coat, with short breeches, silk 
 stockings, and thin shoes, as if he had just come out of a 
 ball-room. The very sight of him froze me ; but he did 
 not seem to feel it, and continued his journey with great 
 gayety and good humor. The second was a young man 
 with a charming countenance, who appeared to be the son 
 of the actor Davide, an old and well-known singer, who 
 was very famous at that time in Italy. You will very 
 soon see why I said appeared to be the son. This 
 young man had the long hair of a woman hanging over 
 his shoulders; his features were soft and delicate, but his 
 black eyes brilliant and bold. I could not help lowering 
 mine when he looked at me. The third traveler was 
 Davide himself, a cheery, fat, jolly old man, a good and 
 rather comical talker, and reminding one of Lablache. 
 Everything he said began with a joke and ended by a 
 hearty laugh. No one could help liking him. 
 
 We were very soon all four fast friends. The pretended 
 son of Davide seemed to be particularly attracted by me. 
 He always followed me when we got out of the carriage 
 to walk up the hills, and explained the country to me 
 which he knew thoroughly. At Terni he pointed out the 
 remains of the magnificent Roman bridge the arches of 
 which unite the hills of Clitumna to the Roman Campagna. 
 When we first caught sight of the Eternal City on her 
 Seven Hills, the Duke, Davide, and his companion urged 
 me to go and lodge with them in the Via Condotti, at the 
 inn where they generally stayed, and which was the ren- 
 dezvous of the greater portion of the French, German, and 
 Swiss travelers. I accepted their proposal with joy ; it 
 made me feel at once at home, and as if my companions 
 and myself had become one family ; Taglia Vino even was 
 less of a driver than a friend. 
 
 At last, toward evening, we perceived, above the fogs of 
 the Tiber, something immense, which seemed to float in 
 the heavens and which reflected the last rays of the setting 
 sun. It was the dome of St. Peter's. The night was 
 closing in when ^i^e reached the Piazza del Popolo. The 
 
278 LAMARTINE 
 
 Via Condotti was to be our destination; they gave me a 
 very pretty room, and the Duke went to the opera to see 
 his illustrious parents ; Davide and his son were lodged in 
 an adjoining apartment. I could not sleep for thinking of 
 Rome: it was, however, very sad and very desolate just 
 then. There was neither Pope nor Cardinals ; Bonaparte 
 had made a clean sweep of them all. The Pope was at 
 Savona. 
 
 The next morning on going down to breakfast I found 
 the good Davide and his companion, the latter transformed 
 into a beautiful woman. Her name was Camilla ; she was 
 a singer in Davide' s theatre, whom he took about with him 
 from kindness, so that she might be under his care and 
 protection. 
 
 "One's clothes do not change one's heart," said Camilla 
 to me, smiling at my astonishment. "Only you will no 
 longer sleep on my shoulder, and, instead of receiving 
 flowers from me, you must get me some." Davide and his 
 pupil spent several weeks at Rome. Camilla knew the 
 town by heart, and used to take me at the best hours for 
 seeing this beautiful city — the morning under the dome 
 of the stone pines in the Pincio ; the evening under the 
 shade of the grand colonnade of St. Peter's ; by moonlight 
 in the solemn inclosure of the Coliseum ; and in the 
 glorious autumn days to Albano, Frascati, or the Temple 
 of the Sybil, echoing with the foaming cascades of Tivoli. 
 Camilla was bright and gay, like a figure of eternal youth 
 amid.st these vestiges of bygone times; she danced on the 
 tomb of Cecilia Metella ; and while I was sitting dreaming 
 on a funeral mole her beautiful but somewhat theatrical 
 voice echoed through the Palace of Diocletian, 
 
 In the evening we returned to the city, our carriage full 
 of flowers and fragments of marble, and rejoined her old 
 companion Davide, whose affairs kept him at Rome, and 
 who took us to finish our day in his opera box. The fair 
 singer, who was a good deal older than I was, had no other 
 feeling for me than a kind of brotherly liking. I was much 
 too shy to show any other; but, besides, I did not feel 
 any more affection than herself in spite of her beauty and 
 my youth. Her man's dress, her easy familiarity, the male 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 279 
 
 sound of her contralto voice, and the freedom of her man- 
 ners, gave the impression of her being simply a handsome 
 young man, whom I could treat as a companioji and a 
 friend. When Davide left the hotel in the Via Condotti, I 
 went to seek a lodging for the winter elsewhere. 
 
 I had taken an Italian professor, who had been introduced 
 to me by a German of great distinction, the brother of M. 
 de Humboldt and an eminent diplomatist, who dined at the 
 same table d' h6te as myself in the Via Condotti. This old 
 professor was called Giunto Tardi. He was a very hand- 
 some man, and had married a Russian widow lady. He 
 had been named consul at Rome during the short-lived 
 reign of the Republic, which the French soldiers had quickly 
 crushed. Giunto Tardi had gone quietly back to his position 
 as a Roman citizen ; but his moderation and justice, during 
 his short tenure of office, had given him a high place in 
 the esteem and consideration of his countrymen. He lived 
 as a poor man, but much respected in the town which he 
 had governed, and maintained himself by teaching rich 
 strangers his native language. I took him not only to teach 
 me Italian, but as a master of literature, and we became 
 great friends. I shall have occasion later to mention his 
 brother, who bore the same name, but who was a distin- 
 guished painter. I was his guest for a few days, and he 
 set me the example of every Christian virtue. 
 
 M. de Humboldt, the Prussian diplomat, was a man whom 
 I thought far superior to his brother, the author of "A 
 Journey to South America," and "Cosmos," whom I also 
 knew but esteemed less, in spite of his great name and 
 reputation. A clever man he was ; but without much real 
 merit ; it would be difficult to cite anything remarkable in 
 his works, except his adulation of French philosophers and 
 heroes of various shades of opinion, as he had discovered 
 that theirs was the only real European glory. People speak 
 of him as "the friend of Arago," "of Chateaubriand," "of 
 Napoleon," "of Louis XVIII.," etc., etc.; he always, in 
 fact, worshiped the rising sun, and managed to get a re- 
 flection from its rays. This reflection (accumulated during 
 thirty years) made him appear to many as a bright light, 
 while he was in reality only a flashing fire-work. 
 
28o LAMARTINE 
 
 When one considers his extraordinary reputation and the 
 mediocrity of his talents, one is bound to acknowledge that 
 he was a master of savoir /aire. His brother, on the con- 
 trary, was a frank, modest, and clever statesman. He flat- 
 tered none, but won the good-will and esteem of every 
 one. This is the feeling with which he inspired me at 
 eighteen, and I have seen no reason to change my opinion 
 since. The other obtained his reputation by a cheat, which 
 is worse than not having deserved it. 
 
 When Davide, Camilla, and M. de Humboldt were gone, 
 I stayed alone in Rome with no other companions than the 
 monuments and ruins, which Camilla had made familiar to 
 me, and my Italian master. I asked the latter if he would 
 allow me to make acquaintance with his brother, to which 
 he consented. I went daily to see him. His studio was an 
 isolated convent in an obscure corner of Rome. He sold 
 me a charming picture of the Cascades of Tivoli for a few 
 Roman scudi. It is a model of beauty and patient skill. I 
 still have it at St. Point, and look at it whenever I wish to 
 remember those happy, peaceful days. 
 
 Another artist, a lady named Bianca Boni, did a beauti- 
 ful copy of Guido for me which I have never parted with. 
 It is a Virgin, but with an exquisite expression. The fea- 
 tures are angelic, and the forehead, mouth, and neck are 
 positively radiant with light. Her eyes are looking up- 
 ward, as if they could not think of sublunary matters. A 
 large blue veil falls over her head, hides her hair, and 
 falls on her shoulders. Everything in this composition is 
 ideal, chaste, and pure ; it is better than a woman, and 
 more than an angel ; it is the Virgin before the Annuncia- 
 tion. 
 
 I had my picture taken by Bianca for my mother ; and 
 as she was young, gentle, and very attractive, I was fool 
 enough to fall in love with her, and let her see it. She 
 was furious, destroyed the likeness she had taken of me, 
 and sent me back the money she had received for the por- 
 trait. I wrote a humble note of excuse and apology, and 
 left the sum again at her door, telling her that I had been 
 justly punished in being deprived of the work of her 
 hands ; but that it was not just that she should lose the 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 281 
 
 price of her time which was so precious to her ; and so 
 implored her to receive back the money. But she was in- 
 exorable, and made me feel that these great Italian artists 
 are likwise women of high and unimpeachable virtue. I 
 distributed the money she would not accept among the 
 poor. Such was the result of my first adventure in Rome. 
 Bianca Boni inspired me ever after with a respect which 
 was worth a good deal more than my stupid affection. 
 
 The old painter, brother of Giunto Tardi, was another 
 object of my esteem ; I might almost say, of my venera- 
 tion. He rarely left his studio but to go to mass with his 
 wife and daughter, a young girl of sixteen, as virtuous- 
 and good as himself. Their house was a species of monas- 
 tery where work was only interrupted by a frugal repast 
 and by prayer. 
 
 One day, at the table d'kSie of the Via Condotti, I be- 
 came acquainted with a young I^yons merchant, who, after 
 a time, proposed that we should go together to Naples. 
 This young man was gentle, good, and well educated. I 
 accepted his proposal, and had no occasion to repent it. 
 He was a very agreeable companion, and we started in his 
 own carriage. 
 
 We slept at Terracina, the brigands having made night 
 traveling too perilous. We went on the next day, and 
 suddenly heard a succession of shots fired in an olive wood 
 on our left. Soon we came upon a carriage half burned 
 lying in the middle of the road, which was that of the 
 courier from Rome to Naples. The bodies of two travelers 
 were lying dead on the roadside, and a wounded horse lay 
 in the middle. Some soldiers were guarding them, while 
 others were pursuing the assassins, and firing on them as 
 they fled from rock to rock of the mountains above us. 
 We were very much shocked, and continued our journey 
 not a little saddened by the scene we had just witnessed. 
 
 We arrived at Naples as the night fell ; the noise and 
 bustle of the streets and public thoroughfares positively 
 deafened us ; while the sea was lit up by the reflection of 
 the countless lights which burned in the shop windows, or 
 in the niches of the Madonna. We drove through the 
 street of the " Florentines, * which crosses that of " Toledo, " 
 
282 LAMARTINE 
 
 and stopped at an hotel well known to my I/yons friend. 
 After the silence and stillness of Rome we seemed to have 
 passed into a new world. The next morning I was woke 
 by some monks who sang verses in our honor, and brought 
 us magnificent fruits from Castelamare, and other presents 
 from the convent, for which, however, we had to pay 
 handsomely. Then I got into a little carriage and went all 
 over this enchanting town. I was quite delighted. No 
 city had ever produced such a magical effect upon me; 
 Rome was a monastery, Naples the Garden of Eden. 
 
 Nature and man seemed to have combined to produce 
 this most perfect spot. From the moment of my arrival I 
 was scarcely myself ; I was boiling all over with emotion, and 
 could not stay still in one place. I rushed off to the post- 
 office ; they spread out a quantity of letters on a board be- 
 fore me. I found one addressed to myself, which was 
 given to me readily enough when I had paid the postage 
 It was from my old friend M. de Virieu, to whom I had 
 written from Rome. He replied that he was just starting 
 from Grand I^emps with his mother's consent, and with a 
 letter of credit on Rome and Naples, and that he should 
 join me almost as soon as I had received his letter. 
 
 In fact he arrived a very few days after. He met me at 
 the hotel Fiorentino, where I had prepared a room for him, 
 and where we became intimate with a young Calabrian 
 gentleman, who initiated us into the mysteries of gambling. 
 This was the first time that that wonderful temptation had 
 assailed us. At that period in Naples the great game was 
 the trenta e quaranta, played in a public room at the end of 
 the Via di Toledo. This young Calabrian was married, but 
 as inexperienced as ourselves. We used to spend hours in 
 losing or spending a few carlini. 
 
 I had all this time a kind of compunction about certain 
 letters of introduction which my mother had given me to 
 M. de la Chavanne, director of the tobacco manufactory at 
 Naples, and which I had hitherto neglected to deliver. 
 Iviberty without control seemed to me infinitely pleasanter. 
 At last, however, I felt that I could no longer delay mj' 
 visit. I inquired for his house and was directed to a mag- 
 nificent establishment dedicated to St. Pietro Martyro, in 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 283 
 
 the most noisy quarter of the town, it was just midday; 
 I dimed up a magnificent staircase of one hundred and 
 twenty steps till I got to the fifth or sixth story. Below 
 was a large garden surrounded with arcades. These arcades 
 and the lower story of the house were filled with vats, 
 workshops, and other things belonging to the state manu- 
 factory. I took in every detail of this picture, which re- 
 mained indelibly impressed upon my mind, as it led to one 
 of the great events of my life, and in fact was to bring 
 about a decisive change in my existence. 
 
 Arriving out of breath at the top story, I rung at a 
 great door which gave entrance to a large and long cloister, 
 out of which opened different doors to the right and left. 
 At the end of this gallery were three large windows called 
 finestrati, which threw a brilliant light on the cloister it- 
 self. A number of young girls crossed and recro.ssed this 
 place every moment, carrying I knew not what in their 
 aprons. I found afterward that these children were em- 
 ployed in choosing the finest tobacco leaves for the manu- 
 facture of cigarettes. I was far from imagining that one 
 of these very girls would soon become Graziei<IvA, change 
 her occupation, and influence forever my future life. I did 
 not dare own the truth when in 1847 I wrote the novel of 
 '* Graziella," which had such a success because every one 
 recognized that it was true to nature. I had from vanity 
 altered the first few pages, but all the rest was exact. 
 Now I am going to make a full confession of the whole 
 facts, and give you the true history of " Graziella. '^ 
 
 At the end of the cloister to the right, I perceived an 
 open door and a good many servants, going backward and 
 forward, carrying plates and dishes, while inside the room 
 I heard the clatter of knives and forks. I saw I had in- 
 opportunely chosen the time of M. le Directeur's breakfast ; 
 but it was too late to go back ; I had already sent in my 
 card and was announced. 
 
 No sooner had he heard my name, than M. de la Cha- 
 vanne rose and received me with open arms, exclaiming, 
 " He is the very image of his mother ! " He embraced me 
 with the greatest warmth and tenderness, and made me sit 
 down on a sofa under the window which lighted the 
 
284 LAMARTINE 
 
 breakfast-room. I found out that this house had been a 
 monastery, and that we were in the room of the old superior 
 of St. Pietro Martyro. Two other persons were breakfast- 
 ing with M. de la Chavanne : one from twenty to twenty- 
 five years old, named Antoniella — a pleasing person but 
 with nothing very striking about her ; she was evidently 
 on intimate and confidential terms with the director, and 
 had, as I afterward found, the superintendence of the young 
 girls employed in the cigar manufactory ; the other was a 
 most charming girl, but of her I shall speak later. Our 
 conversation, in which neither young lady took a part, 
 turned entirely on my mother and her family. M. de la 
 Chavanne declared that he would never allow me to remain 
 in a hotel at Naples, and that he would g;ive me a charm- 
 ing little room in his house looking on the sea. He got 
 up to show it to me, and I found a most comfortable room 
 with a camp bed and a winding staircase leading up to the 
 fiat roof of this immense convent, from whence there was a 
 glorious view of the sea, with Capri, Sorrento, and Vesuvius. 
 A trellised wall sheltered a portion of this beautiful terrace 
 from the wind ; so that you were at the same time warmed 
 with the genial Italian sun and your head shaded from its 
 rays. I came down quite delighted with my little apart- 
 ment, promising myself the pleasure of occupying it as soon 
 as possible. 
 
 M. de la Chavanne, of whom my mother had often spoken 
 to me, was a man of between forty and fifty years of age, 
 and of remarkable goodness ; his frank, cheery face and 
 cordial manner made one love him at first sight. He was 
 tall and large ; his honest blue eyes looked you straight in 
 the face, and his mouth alone would have told you his 
 character ; it was the very type of benevolence and sweet- 
 ness. It was really impossible not to love him. He had 
 served valiantly with his countrymen against the army 
 of the Convention at the siege of I<yons. This siege had 
 ruined him, and he had sought refuge in Italy. Here Mu- 
 rat, king of Naples, had given him the directorship of the 
 state tobacco manufactory, a lucrative and honorable post. 
 He established himself at Naples, and became rich and 
 happy. He had left his wife and several sons in France, 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 285 
 
 whom she had brought up admirably. From time to time 
 she came to see him ; he loved her devotedly, and was 
 equally loved by her ; the necessity of being so often sep- 
 arated from her was the only thing which ever embittered 
 his life. He lived at Naples as an exile ; but as one who 
 endeavored to forget it by active work for those dear to 
 him. He was adored by all the French in Naples and by 
 the Neapolitans themselves, who knew him by the continual 
 kind services which his position enabled him to render 
 them. He was always kind and generous, fond of young 
 people, and ever ready to contribute to their amusements. 
 Such was the man into whose home I had thus been ad- 
 mitted, and I could have found no one so worthy of my 
 esteem and affection. In taking leave of him, I felt the 
 attraction which he universally inspired, and promised to 
 return in a few days and take advantage of his generous hos- 
 pitality. I had not then scarcely realized the secret and in- 
 vincible charm which strengthened my resolution ; i. e. , the 
 thought of seeing once more the fascinating face I had had 
 a glimpse of at his table. 
 
 On returning to Virieu, to whom I had to break my ap- 
 proaching separation from him in obedience to my mother's 
 wishes, I went to the post and there found a letter directed 
 to me in an unknown writing from Micon, which I 
 opened with a trembling hand. It was from the old man of 
 St. C16ment, the friend of Madame P., and ran as fol- 
 lows : — 
 
 «Sir, — Your age and position made me believe that j-^our 
 affection for Mile. Henriette P. (of which, as an old friend 
 of her family, I had heartily approved), would result in a 
 union which would secnre your joint happiness; your de- 
 parture and prolonged absence have given rise to certain 
 doubts and scruples in my mind. Mile. Henriette is very 
 young, and so are you ; you are not yet your own master, 
 and you cannot answer for the wishes of your parents. I 
 am, therefore, charged to tell you, in her mother's name, that 
 proposals of marriage have been made to her by another 
 person, whose character and fortune promise her that 
 which, I fear, it would not be in your power to give her 
 
286 LAMARTINE 
 
 for many years. Be so good then, as to examine yotir own 
 heart and conscience, and to let me know whether you 
 still have the same feelings for this young lady as when 
 you left Mdcon; and if her family may expect from you 
 as favorable settlements as those which are now offered her 
 elsewhere. We wait for your answer, and remain," etc. 
 
 This letter, which was evidently written with the concur- 
 rence of Madame P. , if not of her daughter, troubled me very 
 much. I took some days to think about it; I certainly was 
 anything but free to choose ; I had nothing, or next to noth- 
 ing, of my own. I could only love her ; but I could not, with- 
 out great imprudence, answer for the consent of my family 
 to a union, which I was not quite sure now of even wish- 
 ing for myself. So I wrote a frank and prudent letter, 
 explaining my position, and virtually leaving the decision 
 in the hands of Mile. P. herself. 
 
 I learned soon after that she was about to marry her 
 other suitor. I regretted her; but I felt that her parents 
 were right not to sacrifice the future of their child to an 
 illusion of seventeen. Thus ended my first love dream, 
 which was only a short but delicious bit of imaginary 
 happiness. 
 
 I did not see her again for thirty years, when we met, 
 with some regret perhaps, but with no bitterness. There 
 are passages of this sort in most men's lives, which seem 
 to be but dreams of our first youth. Mile. P. was one of 
 those fancies. She was very happy in her married life, 
 and was united to one who was far more worthy of her 
 than myself. I was still a child, and scarcely knew my 
 own mind. But I wished to be sincere and loyal. 
 
 After having passed a day or two longer with Virieu in 
 our hotel, I went to live with M. de la Chavanne. It was 
 only a few doors off. I used to part with Virieu at night, 
 sure to meet him early the next day ; so that he became 
 reconciled to our short separation. M. de la Chavanne 
 was not at home when I arrived at his house. I was re- 
 ceived by his old Neapolitan cook, and by that charming 
 child, Graziella. She opened the door of the little room 
 assigned to me, undid my portmanteau, and placed my 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 287 
 
 things in the drawers, even kneeling down to take the 
 creases out of my clothes. Every movement of hers was 
 full of grace ; only she seemed to me more shy and pale 
 than the day I had seen her at breakfast, I scarcely 
 dared raise my eyes to look at her, and felt distressed at 
 her waiting upon me in this manner ; but we scarcely ex- 
 changed two words. I felt as if she were one of my 
 sisters, who had come as usual to do little things for me 
 on my return from a long journey. The simplicity of her 
 manner and dress added to my illusion. 
 
 After settling me in my room, we went back to the 
 drawing-room, where she took up her work, and we began 
 to talk a little. Antoniella came in from the large work- 
 room where she had been superintending "her children," 
 as she called them in the cigarette factory. Then came in 
 the master, and the breakfast. We sat down to it as be- 
 fore. " Now I must introduce you properly to one another," 
 exclaimed M. de la Chavanne, gayly. " This one is An- 
 toniella. She is a good child, and very useful to me in the 
 factory. She chooses, admits, or sends away the novices 
 of my convent, who number some hundreds, and who are 
 employed not exactly in saying their prayers, but in mak- 
 ing cigars and cigarettes. She knows all the poor people 
 and lazzaroni of the place, and finds out which of them 
 have too many children to support, and wish to get work 
 in my establishment. She manages all this quite admirably 
 and lives with me, as you see, like my daughter, to re- 
 ceive and transmit my orders. Everybody is pleased and 
 satisfied with her — employers and employed. My little 
 workwomen are like her own sisters or children. She 
 watches over them like a mother, and reports to their fam- 
 ilies if there be any cause of complaint in the workrooms ; 
 and so she helps me to keep perfect order and peace in the 
 establishment. They call her in Naples * la madre delle 
 cigarette. * " At these words, Antoniella burst out laughing, 
 and M. de la Chavanne, glancing at her with his kind, pa- 
 ternal face, smiled also. " Now, " he continued, " as for 
 this little girl " (pointing to Graziella, who colored up to 
 the eyes), " who is still a child, Antoniella is teaching her 
 French, that she may be some day my interpreter between 
 
288 LAMARTINE 
 
 the administration and the directors, who are our country- 
 men. She is called Graziella, and is the daughter of a poor 
 fisherman in the island of Procida, who has a whole tribe 
 oi children. She only receives the pay of a cigar workwoman, 
 but she transmits it regularly, at the end of the month, to 
 her mother. La Procitana. She does not, however, work 
 with the rest but lives with us, so as to be under the im- 
 mediate care of Antoniella, who is her friend and protec- 
 tress. She superintends the house under her directions, and 
 transmits my orders to the servants, who are Neapolitans, 
 and whose patois she alone understands. She is still a 
 child, as you see; but a good child, and beloved by everybody. 
 I treat her more as a father than as a master. She orders 
 everything here, and is our aide-de-camp, or rather our 
 mouthpiece. Ask for whatever you wish. She is at your 
 orders; only do not look at her dress, which is that of the 
 children of Procitana, of the peasantry of an island from 
 whence Naples obtains her most beautiful and her most use- 
 ful servants. Their costume is, in fact, a mark of servi- 
 tude in Naples, but of nobility in their own island. Go and 
 dress yourself as a Procitana," he added, turning to Gra- 
 ziella; "Antoniella will help you." 
 
 The shy and beautiful child went out with Antoniella, 
 and returned in a few moments entirely transformed. It 
 was like a scene in a play. On her feet she had little yel- 
 low slippers without heels, of which the leather was finely 
 embroidered in red and silver; her blue stockings seemed 
 not to be knitted, but wove in some kind of bright stuff. A 
 woolen petticoat, with a multitude of fine plaited folds, and 
 of a dark yet bright brown shade, fell to her feet ; a bod- 
 ice of green velvet cut square, and made into a point be- 
 fore and behind, revealed her neck and bosom, both of 
 which were modestly covered by a chemisette of fine lace and 
 embroidery, closely buttoned down the front. The sleeves 
 and waistband were trimmed with rich braiding and em- 
 broidery, and are alike for rich and poor. The head-dress, 
 except on a journey, consisted of nothing but a profusion 
 of raven black hair, rolled in a thick cable round the head, 
 like a living turban. Her throat and ears were ornamented 
 with a beautiful necklace and ear-rings of ancient Greek 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 289 
 
 workmanship, and of very fine gold, the pendants of which 
 clicked like the little bells of a horse in a circus. The 
 blushing face of the child revealed a mixture of shame and 
 bashfulness, partly with the consciousness of her own beauty, 
 and partly with the sense of our appreciation of it. We 
 looked at her with mute admiration ; and had she been less 
 of a child, I should not have dared to lift my eyes. In a 
 few seconds she disappeared, and ran ofE to put on her 
 every-day dress. But the effect had been produced and the 
 blow struck. I could not forget it, and henceforth never 
 saw her in her ordinary costume without recalling the Pro- 
 citana, and looking upon her merely as a shadow of her 
 real self. The dress she generally wore was only a com- 
 mon, coarse, brown stuff, fastened close round her throat, 
 without any ornament whatever, and a simple blue handker- 
 chief tied round her neck. Her beautiful little feet were dis- 
 guised in untidy, heavy, black shoes, generally down at the 
 heel. Such was the chrysalis — but what about the butterfly? 
 Virieu came to see me in the course of the day. His 
 father, as I before said, had commanded the cavalry at the 
 siege of I<yons. M. de la Chavanne had followed him in 
 his last charge, and had been all but a witness of his 
 death. They talked a long time of this fatal day. Virieu 
 dined with us, and was as much struck as myself with the 
 marvelous Grecian beauty of la Procitana. That evening 
 Virieu and I went out together, and I accompanied him to 
 his hotel. In passing the Via di Toledo we went in, from 
 curiosity, to the Palazzo Fiorentino, opposite the theatre. 
 This was the public gambling house, permitted but super- 
 intended by the police. Immense tables, surrounded with 
 silent players, filled the rooms : great heaps of gold and 
 silver were piled on the green table by the side of each 
 player. We were soon drawn in to join the game, risked 
 some scudi and lost. That evening, and the next, and the 
 day after, we did the same. We could not understand 
 why the luck was always against us. While we were 
 grumbling about it in the recess of one of the windows, 
 an old Neapolitan came up to us, and told us, that as long 
 as we played in that way, without sense or plan, we MUST 
 lose ; that this game was not one of chance, but of skill 
 J9 
 
ago LAMARTINE 
 
 and science ; that we were not to expect large gains but 
 moderate profits ; that he himself had once been a victim 
 like ourselves ; but that he now lived on what had form- 
 erly been his ruin. We listened to him with astonishment. 
 He saw it, and lowering his voice, proposed to give us 
 lessons at hazard, having been himself a croupier of a 
 gambling table, and having masses of cards with which he 
 could prove his theory to our satisfaction. With the igno- 
 rant and self-confident folly of youth, we accepted his invi- 
 tation, and made an appointment with him the following 
 evening in Virieu's rooms. The old man was punctual, and 
 having thrown on the table a mass of cards, that is, ten 
 or twelve packs, the game began. 
 
 " Play as you will, gentlemen, * he said quietly, " and I 
 will bet you anything you like that, by the end of the 
 evening, I shall have gained and you will have lost." He 
 threw down the cards, we played and lost, his gains were 
 very small, but he always won. 
 
 We tried twenty times and always with the same result. 
 We were confounded, " Why then are you not yourself 
 rich ? " I asked him at last. " Because riches are not the 
 result of even successful gambling, but of honest labor," 
 he replied. " I never promised that I should show you 
 how to get millions, but small sums. Will you try 
 again?" "Yes," we answered. "Well, I am now going 
 to show you my system, and explain on what it is based. 
 Now listen to me. What is trenta e quaranta ? A game 
 in which the player, playing against the bank, gains every 
 time that the color black or red, on which he has betted, 
 approaches nearest to the number forty, without going 
 beyond it, for, if it goes beyond, the player is dead. He 
 must, therefore, calculate, as nearly as he can, which is 
 the color, whether black or red, which offers the best 
 chance of arriving at the winning number, and conform his 
 play to that. Understand, once for all, there is in reality 
 no LUCK in it, only skill and memory." 
 
 The old croupier, without giving us more of his practice 
 and experience, played for another hour, and following out 
 the calculations he had suggested to us, went on winning, 
 while we, trusting to luck, always lost. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 291 
 
 He promised to return at the same hour on the following 
 day. I was anxious to find out if it would always come to 
 the same in the long run ; and if he could always reckon 
 on small but certain sums. The next day, and for twenty 
 days running, we were confirmed in this belief ; he steadily 
 won so many scudi a night, and we lost as many Napo- 
 leons. It was becoming serious, and I asked myself : 
 "• But what is the cause ? for, after all, chance is but an 
 effect of which we do not see the reason ; let us go on and 
 try to find it out." 
 
 All the winter the croupier came, and we devoted our 
 evenings to him, either at Virieu's hotel or at M. de la 
 Chavanne's. One saw nothing but cards. One heard noth- 
 ing but trenta e quaranta. M. de la Chavanne's French 
 friends came and chatted round the braziers, in which the 
 olive wood chips burned without smoke or flame. Antoniella 
 and Graziella worked on the sofa in the corner of the room. 
 From time to time Graziella would look up at me and try 
 to smile; but then her face would suddenly become grave, 
 as if she said, " What a pity that so sensible a young man 
 should have a taste for gambling ! " 
 
 But the croupier cut his cards perseveringly, and we 
 could discover nothing except the fact that he regularly 
 pocketed our carlini. 
 
 In this way our Naples winter passed until the beautiful 
 early spring lit up the waves and mountains of Castela- 
 mare. Vesuvius began to grumble and launch out angry 
 piiffs of smoke and flame, from time to time. Virieu was 
 ill, and did not leave his room. I had met on the staircase 
 of his hotel one day, M. Humboldt, the diplomatist, whom 
 we had left at Rome. He received me like a son, and pro- 
 posed to carry me off with him on a tour he was about to 
 make in Calabria, after he had studied the volcano of 
 which the threatened eruption had become more serious. I 
 accepted his offer with joy ; and yet I was sad at leaving 
 Graziella when I thought of her. But as yet we had come 
 to no explanation. 
 
 M. de Humboldt came to fetch me at M. de Chavanne's. 
 At the moment of getting into his carriage he asked me : 
 "Who was that beautiful child?" and I, looking up at 
 
292 LAMARTINE 
 
 Graziella, saw that her eyes were tuU of tears. "Why did 
 she cry ; and why did she follow the carriage with her eyes 
 till we were out of sight? 
 
 The horses rapidly took us on the road to Pompeii and 
 Torre dell' Annunziata.. a pretty village which you Come to 
 before arriving at Castelamare, and which is built at the foot 
 of the mountain. We put up at a little inn still nearer to 
 Vesuvius, and sent for guides and mules to conduct us to 
 the hermit whose cell was built on the highest habitable 
 cone. After two or three hours of fatiguing march, either 
 upon cooling and slippery lava, or on hot ashes, of which 
 the smoke nearly blinded one, we stopped on one of the 
 lower spurs of the mountain. On turning round we felt 
 as if we were floating in the sky : the sea, the islands, the 
 capes, and Naples, all seemed to spring out of the earth at 
 our feet. We could not resist an exclamation of pleasure. 
 At last we reached the hermitage ; the hermit had ceased 
 to sleep there at night, fearing to be surprised in sleep by 
 a sudden outburst of the volcano. We sat down on the 
 bench at his door, gazing at the wonderful scene beneath 
 us, which the ether seemed to have evoked from the void 
 below. At last the hermit himself arrived on his donkey, 
 which carried besides a quantity of flasks of I^acryma 
 Christi ; the hermit having catered for his guest as well as 
 himself, and making us pay largely for the luxury. He 
 was, however, a thoroughly good fellow, not belonging to 
 any regular religious order, but one of those ambulatory 
 friars who attach themselves to certain localities from whence 
 they draw their means of subsistence. I should say that 
 this monk was of the "Order of Vesuvius," and nothing 
 else. He changed his cell according as the eruption changed 
 its course. The rest of the time he entertained travelers ; 
 his cell was a picturesque and sacred house of refreshment. 
 
 M. de Humboldt and I sat down on each side of his little 
 table, and talked to him about the mountain and the gen- 
 eral prelude to the eruptions. I resolved next day to study 
 it nearer by descending the crater. It was of no sort of 
 use my doing so, for I was neither a savant, nor a natu- 
 ralist. I did not even know the names of the scientific 
 Specimens which I proposed to bring back with me : but I 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 293 
 
 was just at the age when one wishes to be thought rather 
 foolhardy, let it cost what it might ; somewhat of the race 
 of Empedocles, who left his sandals on the borders of Etna, 
 I induced two of our guides to return to Torre dell' An- 
 nunziata to fetch the cords necessary for the perilous de- 
 scent of the crater. M. de Humboldt laughed at my 
 preparations, and endeavored to dissuade me from so rash 
 an act without any possible object. But I was only the 
 more strengthened in my pride and folly, and woke the 
 next morning as determined as ever to carry out my plan. 
 
 Vesuvius had been silent through the night. The sun- 
 rise was magnificent ; one saw nothing but a puff of yellow 
 smoke belching forth at intervals from the pointed cone 
 above our heads. 
 
 We started early, following our guides, who had brought 
 the cords, which I had ordered during the night. It was 
 no longer walking but scrambling. Several times we heard 
 the stones and ashes falling round us, causing a sulphurous 
 smoke which blinded us for a few moments until dispersed 
 by the soft morning air. It would seem as if the spirits of 
 this infernal region disputed every step with the human 
 beings who ventured into their precincts. We often had 
 to throw ourselves flat on the earth to avoid the rebound 
 of the stones and pieces of rock as they fell ; and only 
 when the eruption ceased for a few moments, could we con- 
 tinue our route. 
 
 At last, we arrived at the mouth of the crater and sat 
 down on the edge, measuring with our eyes, as far as we 
 could, the frightful gulf, half in shade and half in lurid 
 light, which yawned beneath our feet. It was the shape of 
 an enormous funnel of which the base and the sides were 
 colored, to windward, by the various streams of lava which 
 recent eruptions had deposited on their course. On one side 
 appeared a kind of crystallized salt, white as newly fallen 
 snow ; on another, fragments of sulphur as yellow as gold 
 in the crucible. Farther on, the sides of the crater had 
 taken the form of pointed, jagged, and still smoking rocks, 
 with here and there bright stalactites which seemed to have 
 frozen as they fell. One portion of this vast ba.sin seemed 
 filled with a brownish substance of which I did not know 
 
294 LAMARTINE 
 
 the name. But, toward the middle of the crater, masses 
 of smoke belched forth, from the midst of which poured 
 out at intervals rivers of flame lighting up the depths of 
 this abyss of wonder and of terror, which might well have 
 served for a picture of the infernal regions. My guides 
 sat down with their cords and said, "What is the use of 
 tempting Providence ? How much more will you see if you 
 do attempt the descent? " " I should actually have touched 
 it," I replied. And rising from the hot sand on which I 
 was sitting, I passed my arms through the knots of the 
 cords, and prepared slowly to descend into the crater. Not 
 one of the guides would consent to follow me ; but they all 
 hung on to the mouth of the basin, striving to direct my 
 perilous course, and to induce me to return. I reached the 
 flat brown surface I have before described in a few minutes ; 
 but the heat increasing in intensity as I neared the burn- 
 ing furnace in the centre, my shoes were at once almost 
 burned off, and scarcely any sole remained to preserve my feet. 
 I strove to stand on such portions of the sulphur as had 
 cooled a little, and springing across one of the rushing tor- 
 rents of liquid fire, tried to rest for a moment on a less 
 burning crust. I felt I was lost if the wind, changing for 
 an instant, had driven back upon me the sulphurous flame 
 and smoke, which fortunately it drove, at present, on the 
 opposite side of the crater. My guides called louder to me 
 than ever to retrace my steps while there was yet time. I 
 hastily knotted together in my handkerchief some speci- 
 mens of the burning metals around me, and at last gave 
 the signal to be drawn up again from this very hell upon 
 earth. My ascent was accomplished in perfect safety, only 
 my clothes and shoes were burned to rags. They hailed my 
 return to terra firma with cries of joy, while M. Humboldt 
 hastened to explain to me the names and characters of the 
 specimens which I had brought up from the abyss. We 
 went back to the hermit's cell, who could not recover his 
 astonishment at my foolhardiness ; and a good breakfast, 
 with the help of the Lacryma Christi, made every one for- 
 get my folly. 
 
 That evening I would have given all the world to have 
 had no part in this ridiculous adventure. If I had under- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 295 
 
 taken it as a man of science, to wrest some hitherto unknown 
 secret from nature, it might have been sublime ; but under- 
 taken by an ignoramus like myself, the attempt was simply 
 ridiculous. My vanity met with its due punishment ; I had 
 been egregiously vain — that was all ; but I reaped what I 
 deserved — that most bitter feeling of a thorough contempt 
 of one's self. 
 
 After our breakfast at the Hermit's we returned to Torre 
 deir Annunziata. The noise in the mountain seemed to 
 increase in proportion as we went farther from it : the earth 
 shook under our mules' feet. All the village had turned 
 out. Every one, in mute despair, lifted their eyes and arms 
 to heaven, and rushed from their houses to see which side 
 of the cone of the crater would open out first and over- 
 whelm with its burning stream of lava, the crops and the 
 vineyards on which their whole existence depended. Every 
 saint in the calendar was invoked in vain by these poor 
 people. All of a sudden, at nightfall, a mighty cry burst 
 forth — the problem had been solved. A great breach had 
 been made in the cone to the south, and streams of liquid 
 fire were pouring down the sides of the mountain with re- 
 sistless speed. What direction would the eruption take 
 during the night ? That was the anxious question. We 
 got back to our little inn and supped, passing the greater 
 part of the night at our windows watching the progress of 
 this terrible devastation. 
 
 As soon as it was light, we ran, like every one else, out 
 of the house to the base of the mountain. The heavy tor- 
 rent of lava had made fearful progress during the night, 
 and had already reached not only the vineyards, but the 
 gardens and houses in the upper part of the village of 
 I/'Annunziata. Some of these cottages, perched on a little 
 rising ground to the left, were already entirely encircled by 
 the fire. The poor inhabitants were flying from their 
 homes, with cries and tears, carrying with them whatever 
 they could most easily save from the flames. It was a heart- 
 breaking sight. Men were dragging great sacks of wheat, 
 or bundles of Indian corn ; women, their cradles full of 
 children, on their shoulders. The animals followed, driven 
 by the boys, and trembling with fear ; the very cocks and 
 
296 LAMARTINE 
 
 hens, with half-burned wings, were fluttering and striving 
 to hide themselves amidst the vines. It was exactly such 
 a scene as Pliny describes at the overthrow of Pompeii. 
 As the lava slowly but surely encircled its prey, you saw 
 the green vine leaves shrivel up, crackle and groan, almost 
 like living human beings ; and then the branches, despoiled 
 of their now yellow leaves, in their turn becoming crisp, 
 taking fire, and spreading the destructive element along the 
 ground, which had become as a furnace. These agonies of 
 nature were slowly repeated, till each vine had fallen a 
 victim to the destroying element. For me the sight had a 
 sort of fascination, and I forgot that I ran a like danger 
 myself. We had certainly legs wherewith to fly ; but if for 
 a moment we were to forget, or that the wind had changed 
 its quarter, the same burning breath would have devoured 
 us like the shrubs, and our calcined bones would have 
 crackled as rapidly as the vine branches. I did forget it 
 several times, and drawing nearer to this bed of fire, the 
 very stick I held in my hand was shriveled up in a mo- 
 ment. We suddenly saw, from the lay of the ground, that 
 the flames had changed their course, and that we were in 
 imminent danger of being encircled by them, unless we 
 rapidly returned to the shelter of the town. At last, the 
 lava torrent chose for its bed a narrow valley which led to 
 the sea, crossing the high-road to Naples, along which both 
 horses and foot passengers were flying at full speed. But 
 anxious to study this phenomenon to the end, which had 
 been the object of M. de Humboldt's visit, we remained on 
 that part of the road which led to Castelamare and 
 Salerno, till the eruption had ceased. The only sights and 
 sounds which met our eyes the following day, however, 
 were the tears and lamentations of the poor ruined inhab- 
 itants. After witnessing this terrible calamity, M. de Hum- 
 boldt returned to Naples, and I started alone for Castelamare. 
 
 After having driven through the picturesque forest of 
 laurels which surround the beautiful villas in the neighbor- 
 hood of Naples, I went to Sorrento, which gleamed on the 
 horizon before me like a dream of Tasso's. 
 
 After some days spent in making expeditions from this 
 lovely place, I hired, sometimes a corricolo, and sometimes 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 297 
 
 a boat, to visit the Temple of Psestum and La Cava, the 
 most beautiful spot along the whole coast. After spending 
 about a fortnight in these solitary excursions, I found 
 that the high-road between Torre dell' Annunziata and 
 Naples was again opened, a certain quantity of earth hav- 
 ing been thrown upon the lava bed ; so that I took a little 
 carriage, and returned to Naples. My heart was still full 
 of Graziella. I felt that all the emotions of which I could 
 neither speak nor write would be shared in and sympathized 
 with by that delicious child. 
 
 On going up-stairs at St. Pietro Martyro, I was startled 
 at not hearing her bright voice as usual at the end of the 
 gallery. Everything in the old convent seemed to be as 
 still as death. M. de la Chavanne was in his counting- 
 house. Antoniella was superintending the cigar-makers. 
 My room was shut up. The only person I could find was 
 the cook, who exclaimed, " Ah ! you will no longer find 
 Mile. Graziella. She is gone back to the islands to her 
 parents. No one has had any tidings of her since. We 
 suppose she was taken to her grandmother's house at 
 Ischia, from whence she will not come back till after the 
 summer. Oh ! by the bye, she left a little note for you, 
 which she told me to give you on your return. Here it is.* 
 
 I took the note, which was written, or rather scribbled, 
 in Neapolitan patois, as follows : Gib, che set partita, non 
 posser pill restar. Non ti rivedrb mai. La damisella ( " From 
 the moment you left, I felt I could no longer stay. I shall 
 never see you again !") Two or three great tears had left 
 their blots on the coarse yellow paper. 
 
 This note explained to me that which her eyes at part- 
 ing had only partially revealed. I went into my room, threw 
 myself on the bed, and burst out crying. Virieu came up 
 a few minutes later, to know if I was returned. He found 
 me in tears, and asked in utter amazement, what was the 
 matter. Without speaking, I showed him the poor little 
 note. "Oh," he exclaimed, "why, here's the beginning of 
 a beautiful romance ! You must go on with it. What a 
 good thing; for I was bored to death!" "Don't joke 
 about such matters," I replied. "Tears at her age are 
 
298 LAMARTINE 
 
 I waited till Antoniella came in, and asked her directly 
 where her little friend was gone. "I do not know,* she 
 replied. " I went to ask her father on the quay of Pausi- 
 lippo. There was no one there. The neighbors told me 
 that he had left oS coming to Naples, and that they be- 
 lieved Graziella was gone back to her grandmother's house 
 at Procida. Since you went off with that clever German, 
 she never spoke or told me any of her little secrets ; only 
 I remarked that she was often crying." 
 
 When M. de Chavanne came in from his counting-house, 
 I asked him the same question. "Well," he answered, 
 laughing ; " it appears that you are at the bottom of the 
 despair and the flight of poor little Graziella. We have 
 tried in vain to find her out, and can only conjecture that 
 to escape a sorrow which she could not conquer, she is 
 gone back to her old grandmother at Procida. Her good 
 common sense will soon make her see the folly of all this, 
 and if you wish to meet her again, you may be sure to do 
 so in the autumn." 
 
 I was destined to see her long before that. I knew 
 where to find her, and I felt that she had left her com- 
 fortable position at M. de Chavanne 's for no other earthly 
 reason than disgust at my going off with M. de Humboldt. 
 I knew that she loved me, and that her flight was nothing 
 but a wild declaration of love. I was torn with grief. I 
 felt I could not remain away from her any longer. I have 
 described in my novel, how I rejoined her at Procida. 
 The little details which I have now given to my readers, 
 form the only difference between the fiction and the reality. 
 It cost my pride too much to own that my first deep love 
 had only a cigarette maker for its object, instead of a 
 coral worker, as she became later. Where will not vanity 
 find a peg on which to hang itself? 
 
 After this confession, I have nothing to add, but that 
 the rest of the story is literally true. Graziella was as 
 young, as naive, as pure, as religious as I represented her 
 in my novel. All the scenes therein described are drawn 
 from life. The scene and the actors are simple daguerreo- 
 types. The trade of the child was less vulgar in the 
 novel, but that is all. Our voyage to Procida, and the pur- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 299 
 
 chase of the new boat as a present to the family, the joj-^ 
 of the grandmother at its reception, the exclamations of 
 delight from the children, all this is not invented but 
 simply related. So it is with our life in the island, and 
 our mingled feelings of intense joy and sorrow, with our 
 nights on the terrace where we had erected a tent, and our 
 days under the shade of the vineyards where we lived the 
 happy and simple life of the lazzaroni. 
 
 Toward the end of the month of May, my family wrote 
 to Virieu for an explanation of the suspicious life I was 
 leading at La Margellina. M. de la Chavanne had evi- 
 dently written to warn my mother. Virieu, in his warm 
 friendship for me, returned posthaste to Naples, and 
 dragged me away almost by main force. I left Graziella 
 drowned in tears, and as I got into the carriage she 
 fainted away. I vowed to return to live and die at 
 Procida. At Milan I halted for a few days after Virieu 
 had gone, being resolved to try the rouge et noif system 
 which he and I had so conscientiously studied at Naples 
 with the old croupier. I faithfully promised Virieu not to 
 retrace my steps to Naples till I had seen my family, but 
 to rejoin them in a fortnight at Milly. 
 
 Milan had a gambling table which opened daily at the 
 theatre of La Scala. It was there that I determined 
 to try my luck. I was extraordinarily successful. I re- 
 solved to reduce the old croupier's theories to practice. I 
 thought, without always arriving at making the number 
 forty, there was more chance with a good many low cards 
 than with five or six higher ones. Experience had shown 
 me that high and low numbers were dealt out, as it were, 
 in sets and not alternately. I therefore concluded that, by 
 watching carefully the dealing of the cards, I could make 
 pretty sure of those which were left. I followed this 
 method steadily, and won as steadily every night. 
 
 I remained a fortnight at Milan, and then started for Lyons 
 with a Swiss merchant from Lausanne and his servant, who 
 took immense care of me on the road, and insisted on my stay- 
 ing a few days at their house, when we reached their home. 
 
 After resting two or three days at Lausanne, I took a 
 little carriage and came back to Mdcon. My father was 
 
300 LAMARTINE 
 
 waiting for me, and received me witli the greatest affection, 
 without saying a word of my follies. I felt that I had come 
 back pardoned, and that few sons had a father like mine. 
 Still I was sad as death, though I did not say why. My 
 poor mother cried for joy at my return, after so long an 
 absence. If the rest of the family were displeased with me, 
 they took care to conceal it. Everything seemed forgotten, 
 except in my own heart and in the sick heart of my poor 
 Graziella. Alas ! I had not long to wait for news. A 
 traveler passing through M&con brought me the tidings of 
 her death, together with her letter of farewell. Her last 
 thought had been for me. 
 
 I have now described my first loves, my happiness and 
 my misery, and my first journey into Italy. Since that 
 time, Italy became my own country, or, at least, the coun- 
 try of my affections. But my life was about to change 
 entirely. We were in the year 1812-13. Bonaparte, like 
 a man chased by the Furies, had returned from Moscow, 
 where he never should have gone, while the other half of 
 his forces were engaged in Spain, to which country he 
 had no right to pretend. Of seven hundred and fifty 
 thousand men whom he had had under arms, only a few 
 thousand remained this side of the Vistula. But in the 
 midst of his reverses he was grand. He never despaired. 
 He gathered together the fragments of his glorious army, 
 and with three hundred thousand men was fighting a 
 brilliant campaign, though he could not recover the lost 
 ground. 
 
 Austria offered him peace and neutrality. She proposed 
 certain concessions not unacceptable to his ambition, or to 
 his former glory. But he preferred fighting on for 
 shadows, and threw the fate of the Empire and of France 
 on one die. At I^eipsic he lost all. He came back to 
 Paris without an army. He brought but his genius, his 
 pride, and his authority ; in some eyes he became a hero 
 once more, but a hero of adverse fortune. He was 
 compelled to lay down his arms and the Empire at Fon- 
 tainebleau, and went to the Isle of Elba to reflect upon 
 his crime toward his country. It was the beginning of the 
 end. St. Helena avenged Paris and France. 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 301 
 
 I had a great friend, who was an old imigrioi Condi's army, 
 living in the mountains of the Jura. I resolved to throw my- 
 self on his hospitality for a few weeks, and spend a little time 
 with him in the heart of the Swiss mountains, from whence I 
 could easily go farther if the state of things became worse. 
 
 This gentleman who was a good deal older than I, was 
 one of those charming people who suit all ages. He was 
 a Royalist, but not a very keen politician, and enjoyed life 
 as he found it. He had that witty and keen sense of 
 humor which rather laughed at enthusiasm or over-zeal, 
 even in the cause of the King. He was a widower ; his 
 beautiful young wife was from Macon, and had died in her 
 first confinement. His name was M. de Maizod. His lit- 
 tle chateau was onlj'- a house dignified with that feudal ti- 
 tle, but which the peasants considered as belonging to the 
 village. His nearest neighbors lived at the little town of 
 Moirans. There was an old middle-class family in Moirans, 
 which was not far from St. Claude, who were immensely 
 looked up to and respected in the country. They were 
 called, like the Scotch clans, the Chav6riats. I^eonard 
 Chaveriat, who belonged to every one of note in Moirans, 
 was looked upon with affectionate admiration by the whole 
 population. He was, in fact, all powerful; being lawyer, 
 sportsman, fisherman, and one who could turn his hand to 
 anything, while his greatest delight was to be of use to 
 everybody. He was a Royalist ; but his opinions were sub- 
 ordinate to his instincts. 
 
 I spent a month in this quite solitude without being troubled 
 by the convulsions which agitated the other provinces. 
 
 Chaveriat told me one day that war had been declared, 
 and that the Emperor had ordered that all the young men 
 who had served in the King's household should be compelled 
 to join the Imperial army. I decided instantly on my course. 
 " I would rather fly or die than fight against the King!" Chave- 
 riat, offered to guide me to the Swiss frontier. I accepted his 
 services. We parted at the frontier line. I cried aloud for 
 joy at my deliverance and walked on to St. Cergues, and found 
 the house of M. Reboul. He was a noble Swiss who had re- 
 ceived Madame de Stael, Montmorency, Benjamin Constant, 
 and many other distinguished persons during their exile. 
 
302 LAMARTINE 
 
 I was welcomed by a young lady of great beauty, in the 
 absence of M. Reboul. This young girl, or rather this an- 
 gel, had nothing either in her face or dress like any woman 
 I had ever seen. Her voice and features fascinated me. But 
 her face, with her blue eyes, and her rose-leaf complexion, 
 had a mingled expression of joy and sorrow, which struck 
 me the moment I saw her. I did not then know that she 
 had only lately lost her mother, and that time had not yet 
 effaced the traces of her grief. She was plaiting a large 
 straw hat with a wide border to defend her neck from the 
 sun, and little bits of straw were scattered on the parquet 
 floor at her feet. 
 
 She ofEered me a glass of wine while I was waiting for 
 her father ; and we began to enter into a quiet kind of con- 
 versation. She, with that calm soft voice, which thrilled me 
 through and through, and I, with a totally new feeling 
 which made my words tremble on my lips. I had a letter 
 of recommendation from I,6onard for her father, so that I had 
 no alternative but to await his return. He came home very 
 late, but by that time I had become accustomed to my hostess, 
 and it was Reboul who appeared to me the only stranger. 
 
 I gave him I,6onard's letter. He read it carefully, and 
 then said we would speak of its contents on the morrow. 
 He told his charming daughter to go and prepare my room 
 for me. She left us at once, but my thoughts followed her. 
 I do not know how it was that recollections of Graziella 
 mingled with this new vision. I could not tell why this an- 
 gelic apparition gave me at once such a feeling of security 
 and such an inclination to cry. 
 
 I supped afterward with Reboul ; his daughter waited on 
 us. Her soft and holy face seemed to me a good omen on 
 the threshold of an unknown future. 
 
 During supper, M. Reboul spoke to me openly of his adven- 
 tures as guide to the many hundred proscribed or voluntary 
 exiles who for the last fifteen years he had concealed and con- 
 veyed from one country to another. He began by Madame 
 de Stael, whose chiteau of Coppet was not far from St. Cer- 
 gues. The wish he felt to save his friends had insensibly led 
 him to make a habit of that which had at first been only 
 the impulse of his kind heart. His reputation was spread 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 303 
 
 throughout France and Switzerland, and he had always been 
 fortunate in his ventures. He attributed his success to the 
 protection of God, which the prayers of his saintly wife and 
 child had obtained for him. At the mention of his wife his 
 eyes filled with tears. His daughter turned her face away, 
 and covered it with her apron to hide her tears. "Do not 
 let us talk of this any more to-night," said her father. " It 
 is time to go to bed. You will stay here till to-morrow," he 
 added, turning to me, " and I will give you the best 
 advice I can after I have heard your story, and have found 
 out what I can do for you. " His charming daughter helped 
 the servant to make my bed, and I went to rest to dream 
 of the future. But the face of the Graziella of the Alps 
 prevented my sleeping for a long time. 
 
 The next day, at day -break, I was up and ready to ac- 
 company her father. She wished me good-by, recommend- 
 ing me tenderly to God's care. "You are very young, " she 
 said, "to be thus thrown by yourself into an unknown fu- 
 ture. Your mother must have many anxieties on your ac- 
 count ! " "Ah," I replied, "I have a mother and sisters 
 also, who pray to God for me. They are younger, but not 
 better or purer than you. " She wrung my hand, and we parted. 
 
 After having walked for some time on the brow of the 
 mountain which the dawn had hardly yet lighted, I sud- 
 denly burst into a cry of admiration. The whole horizon 
 of Switzerland seemed to me to be emerging from the morn- 
 ing mist ; it was like a second creation. At our feet the 
 I,ake Iceman sparkled, half in light and half in shadow. 
 The mountains of Meilleraie and the rocky Tooth de Jaman, 
 so wonderfully described by J. J. Rousseau, formed the 
 barrier on the Italian side. The Valais, a country of inno- 
 cence and of shepherds, seemed nestled in a little hollow to 
 the left. Then Vevay and the Chiteau de Chillon shone 
 like fallen stars in the lake. Never, not even at Naples, 
 had I seen so wonderful and glorious a spectacle. At each 
 rung of the marvelous ladder of terraces which we began 
 to descend, new bays, new ports, new towns, new villas, 
 new gardens opened out on our delighted gaze. It seemed 
 as if we were really assisting at the creation of a new 
 world. After we had walked for about two hours, al- 
 
304 LAMARTINE 
 
 ways bearing toward the left, Reboul suddenly stopped and 
 showed me a large and imposing modern castle, which rose 
 like a fan with its succession of terraces above the village 
 at the head of the lake. 
 
 " I/Ook ! " he said to me. * We will wish one another 
 good-by here. That is the Chateau of Vincy, to which I 
 have led you. I will not go any farther, for you cannot 
 lose your way. This castle, which is one of the most beau- 
 tiful on the borders of the lake, belongs to the illustrious 
 House of Vincy, Lords of Berne — once very rich, now 
 ruined by the vile revolution of 1799. It is now inhabited 
 by the youngest and last brother of those who commanded 
 the Swiss troops in the service of France, and of whom one 
 or two passed into Holland. Some of the other members of 
 the family are married, and have become once more French 
 proprietors. Others have seen long service in the house- 
 hold of the King, while this one spends his winters at Ge- 
 neva, and his summers in this old family mansion. He is 
 the best man I know to give you the information you seek, 
 and to put you in the way of obtaining what you wish. 
 He has, as it were, the kernel of a little French army, 
 composed of men who wish to fight for the cause of the 
 King of France without joining themselves to strangers. 
 He is, in fact, the principal Royalist agent for the French 
 in Switzerland. Go and introduce yourself to him in my 
 name, and ask him to look at your papers. They will tell 
 him all." 
 
 I thanked Reboul, sent many heartfelt good wishes to 
 his daughter, and strolled on alone for the cMteau of M. 
 de Vincy. I was not without some uneasiness as to the 
 manner in which I should be received, for I had only this 
 note from Reboul, and my personal appearance was certainly 
 not in my favor. I went down the hill, therefore, rather 
 reluctantly, and arrived, almost with a feeling of regret, at 
 the iron gates which led to the castle. 
 
 I pushed open the gate for myself. One felt, by the 
 solitude and the absence of any porter or servant, the ruin 
 which had fallen on this noble and Royalist house. I 
 walked on till I came to a magnificent flight of steps, and 
 was admitted by a servant, who took in my card to M. de 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 305 
 
 Vincy. He was a wizened, ill-dressed little man, and every- 
 thing about him indicated a certain degree of poverty. He 
 made me sit down in his own room, and asked me to what 
 circumstance he was indebted for the honor of my visit. 
 I presented M. Reboul's note in answer. 
 
 " I know nothing, " he replied, " at this moment, of the 
 state of affairs in France. The armies gathered against the 
 Emperor are composed of English, Prussian, Russian, Aus- 
 trian, and Italian troops. There are no Frenchmen, I fear, 
 except a handful gathered together by the Prince de Polig- 
 nac in a village near Neufch^tel called I^a Chaux-de-Fond. 
 The Abb6 I,afond, Malet's only accomplice, is at the head 
 of this little troop. I will have your passport visied for 
 Neufch4tel.» 
 
 I thanked him, and stood aside while a multitude of 
 people and farmers came to transact different affairs with 
 him, or to receive his orders. The same servant introduced 
 them one after the other. I saw many of these men leave 
 miserable little sums in copper on his desk, which was 
 evidently their rent, and which he counted with the anxiety 
 of an apparently rich man who did not know where to 
 turn for the necessary expenditure of the house. Every- 
 thing showed the pinching of penury in the midst of ex- 
 ternal opulence. I was filled with pity for him in spite of 
 my admiration for his magnificent home. 
 
 When the farmers had finished their payments M. de 
 Vincy came back to me and gave me my passport visied. 
 I wished him good-by, feeling more and more for his un- 
 happj' position, and took my departure. Scarcely had I 
 taken half a dozen steps toward the iron grille than a car- 
 riage drove up and stopped at the steps. Two ladies and 
 a little child got out of it. They were a mother and 
 daughter, and a pretty boy of ten or twelve years old. I 
 glanced at them and raised my hat as they stopped for an 
 instant on the lower step of the staircase, where M. de 
 Vincy had joined them, and was speaking to them in a 
 low voice. During this conversation I had turned away 
 and had just reached the iron gates when a soft voice re- 
 called me. It was Madame de Vincy. * Sir, " she exclaimed, 
 "be so kind as to come back." 
 20 
 
3o6 LAMARTINE 
 
 I did so, shyly enough. When I drew near them she 
 added, " Sir, forgive me for having called you back with- 
 out having the honor of knowing you. But when M. de 
 Vincy told me the object of your visit, I feared you might 
 not have dined, and as we are just going to sit down to 
 dinner, I venture to ask you to share our humble repast. 
 There is no inn in this village, and it is three hours' march 
 from here to RoUe. Do not refuse us the pleasure of be- 
 ing your hosts to-day." 
 
 1 refused on the plea of my dress; but they insisted 
 more amiably than ever, and I was compelled to yield. 
 The dinner was served immediately ; my hostess was most 
 indulgent and kind. Madame de Vincy, the mother, was 
 one of the most beautiful and imposing women I ever saw. 
 She was born a princess of some sovereign house in the 
 Palatinate, of which I have forgotten the name. The 
 Vincys had noble birth on both sides, but Madame de 
 Vincy did not belie her origin. Her height, which was 
 five feet and seven inches, gave her the majesty of a god- 
 dess without taking away her grace as a mortal, and the 
 blue eyes of a German princess impressed a certain amount 
 of dignity even on her smile. Her face alone revealed the 
 goodness of her heart ; the sound of her voice spoke to the 
 heart even before it charmed the ear. Her civility was in- 
 deed true Christian courtesy. Never had I seen so re- 
 markable a face. One felt that she was a mother, and 
 there was something filial in the emotion with which her 
 beauty inspired me. 
 
 Her daughter, who was infinitely less beautiful but as 
 good and sensible as her mother, was gentle and sympathiz- 
 ing in manner ; I saw that her soul was a reflection of Ma- 
 dame de Vincy's, and that she was a shoot of the same 
 stem. She was about sixteen. The boy of twelve had a 
 fine German countenance. Madame de Vincy had two other 
 sons, one in the Dutch service and one in the household of 
 Louis XVIII., who had followed the King to Ghent. They 
 were fine well-grown lads ; in fact, their mother was made 
 to bring forth noble-looking sons. 
 
 Our conversation became more and more familiar. We 
 had plenty of subjects in common in the political aspect of 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 307 
 
 the times, and in the strangeness of my own position. 
 They insisted on hearing my history, which I related simply 
 and naturally. I saw that it made a great impression on 
 my hostess, and that the iather and son were of the same 
 opinion. The dinner over, I took up my little bundle, and 
 prepared to continue my journey. " But, sir," exclaimed 
 Madame de Vincy, "an idea strikes me. My husband tells 
 me that you are going, at all risks, to join the little gather- 
 ing of French at La Chaux-de-Fond, in the neighborhood of 
 Neufch^tel. I highly approve of your determination not to 
 serve your country with strange troops, who any day may 
 become our enemies. But if you find this French corps 
 dispersed, what do j'ou mean to do ? " 
 
 "I really don't know," I replied. 
 
 "Well, then," she rejoined, *if you can put up with such 
 accommodation as we can offer you here, why should you 
 not stop a few days till we can obtain some information as 
 to the state of things at Neufchdtel, and let us, for a time, 
 replace to you your mother and sisters ? " 
 
 I colored ; but my face showed the pleasure I did not 
 dare express. The ladies understood me at once, and Ma- 
 demoiselle de Vincy, at a sign from her mother, taking my 
 little bundle from my hands, laid it on the table. 
 
 "Well," added Madame de Vincy, smiling, "try and fancy 
 that we are your mother and sister for the moment. You 
 will not refuse to let us shelter you for some weeks till we 
 can see our way a little more clearly ; and will you not be 
 as comfortable here as on the high-roads, or in some bad 
 Swiss inn? Make up your mind to stop with us, for I al- 
 ready feel toward you as to a son." 
 
 " Ah ! madame, " I exclaimed with a broken voice, " how 
 can I resist such kindness, and go against my own heart's 
 leanings?" 
 
 "Well, well, then it's all settled," exclaimed husband and 
 wife at once. " We will go and order your room, and I 
 hope yon will be as comfortable or more so than at the inn 
 of RoUe." 
 
 They gave me a room with a most glorious view over the 
 lake of Geneva, and I found myself treated in all respects 
 as one of the family. 
 
3o8 LAMARTINE 
 
 From that hotir my life became most enjoyable. The 
 mother and daughter took possession of me, while M. de 
 Vincy, busy with his domestic troubles, was painfully col- 
 lecting his rents from the tenants of Vincy. I had almost 
 forgotten the object of my journey. But I soon found that 
 the so-called French army, which had been organized in 
 Switzerland by the Royalist agents of the Pays de Vaud, 
 was reduced to nothing, or contented themselves with some 
 insignificant movements without any result. In the mean- 
 time I reveled in the enjoyment of the confidence which my 
 circumstances and age had inspired in the bosom of a hos- 
 pitable and virtuous family. 
 
 One day during my stay with them I went to dine in the 
 little town of Nyons, to try and glean some news to bring 
 back to my hosts at the Chateau of Vincy. There was at 
 Nyons an inn dear to all old emigrants, kept by a maiden 
 lady, who was well known in the country. Madame de 
 Vincy gave me a line of introduction for her, and I went 
 there for a night. She received me as an old friend. There 
 were about thirty guests at the table d''h6le, at which she 
 presided. Hardly was I seated, without any intention of 
 being remarked by anybody, than an angry squabble arose 
 at the other end of the table between some people who had 
 been quietly occupied in eating their dinner in silence, and 
 a Swiss officer belonging to the canton of Berne. I could 
 not help listening to the quarrel, which seemed to get 
 warmer every moment. 
 
 "• No ! " at last exclaimed the officer, " I am not one of 
 those mean Frenchmen who renounce the great man who 
 has been the origin of all their glory in Europe, and who 
 are at this moment forming wishes for his second fall from 
 the armies of the allies. And if you don't like my .princi- 
 ples, you may, if you please, call me to account for them. 
 I am ready to answer any one who chooses to contradict 
 me." 
 
 Everybody was silent. Some of the company went away. 
 I was the youngest, the most unknown, and the farthest 
 from the speaker, who was at the extreme end of the long 
 table. I therefore held my tongue, when a young man and 
 two very pretty women who were with him, started up 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 309 
 
 close to a side door which led into the dining-room. Their 
 speaking faces, the deep frown on their foreheads, and the 
 eager eye with which they looked up and down the room 
 seeking for one who would answer and avenge their cause, 
 made me instantly resolve to break the silence. 
 
 "Very well, sir," I exclaimed, rising and turning to the 
 oflScer from Berne, " as no one seems disposed to answer 
 your insolent speech, I shall take it upon myself to reply 
 in my quality as a Frenchman. Yes, sir, I am one of 
 those Frenchmen whom you call mean, because they be- 
 lieved in the reality of abdications, and in the sacred nature 
 of treaties ; and did not think that the caprice of a volun- 
 tary exile in the island of Elba could dispose at his will 
 of France and of Europe. They still hold to these opinions ; 
 and if you wish to be answered otherwise than by words, 
 I am ready, and will meet you where you please." 
 
 At these words a low murmur of applause ran through 
 the whole length of the table, which went on increasing 
 till the officer, looking thoroughly ashamed of himself, re- 
 tired, and I remained confused at the praise I had unex- 
 pectedly received. I sat down quickly, rather ashamed of my 
 easy triumph, when the too pretty women, whose presence 
 had inspired me to speak, rushed toward me, and drawing 
 me toward the door I have before mentioned, carried me off 
 through the corridor of the inn to their own room, and 
 congratulated me in the terms which I have since heard in 
 the House of Deputies. 
 
 "We are proud, sir, to be French women,* they said, 
 " and to have by chance heard one of the youngest of our 
 countrymen avenge our country by such words after the 
 insults of that miserable wretch, whose only admiration is 
 for tyranny. As to ourselves, believe that we have never 
 made a pact with those who look upon glory as the one 
 good, and that we hailed the restoration of the Bourbons 
 as the return to right and liberty. Tell us who you are, 
 and pray make use of our little apartment here while you 
 are staying in this hotel." 
 
 They brought some punch, and I drank to the health of 
 my enthusiastic friends ; after which, thanking them warmly 
 for their kindness, I went back to Vincy. A note from 
 
3IO LAMARTINE 
 
 the landlady of the hotel had preceded me : my little ad- 
 venture, colored by her good-nature, seemed heroic. They 
 received me in consequence as a Royalist hero. Fortune 
 had served me. I had defended at the same time the cause 
 of the Bernese aristocracy, and that of the King of France. 
 These two ladies were Mesdames de Bellegarde, doubly 
 famous from the part they had played during the French 
 Revolution of 1792 and 1793, and by their enthusiasm for 
 the restoration on the return of lyouis XVIII. in 1814. 
 Although very different in expression, they were still very 
 beautiful, a beauty which had exposed them in former 
 times to all the snares of human love and admiration. 
 The eldest, the Countess de Bellegarde, had a face like 
 that of Judith by Allori. She was tall, large, dark, with 
 passionate black eyes, a living picture in fact of enthu- 
 siasm. The youngest, also tall and with a beautiful 
 figure, was a great contrast to her sister ; she was fair, 
 delicate, and sensitive, with blue dreamy eyes, which 
 often wore an expression of great sadness. They were 
 natives of Sardinia, the daughters of a Count de Belle- 
 garde, and had been left orphans very young. Their 
 father had been in the service of the House of Austria, 
 and their name had long been distinguished among the 
 generals whom the Emperor was fond of selecting from the 
 Italian states, such as the MontecucuUi and others. Left 
 in the country home of their ancestors during the begin- 
 ning of the French Revolution, they lived in a magnificent 
 chdteau called Des Marches, in the midst of the beautiful 
 valley of Grdsivaudan. After having conquered Savoy and 
 Geneva, the revolutionary general, De Montesquieu (then 
 in the full height of his power, though soon after pro- 
 scribed), had taken refuge in the mountains of Switzer- 
 land, to wait for better times, and the province of Savoy 
 had been given up to the proconsul H^rault de S^chelles. 
 Before the days of the Convention, H^rault had been a 
 magistrate and a philosopher, and a model of honorable 
 and high-principled conduct. His beautiful face and figure 
 resembled that of Antinous; he was the "Barbarossa" of 
 the aristocracy. Elected unanimously by the legislative as- 
 sembly, he had obtained a high position there, not only by 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 311 
 
 his eloquence and the dignity of his bearing, but by his 
 Jacobin enthusiasm. With his great zeal, his voice, and 
 his expressive face, he became the idol of the neophytes of 
 those days ; but, insensibly dragged on by the revolution- 
 ary torrent beyond his own convictions, he had, like I,e 
 Pelletier de St. Fargeau, yielded to the popular tumult, 
 and sacrificed the King to the exigencies and barbaric 
 violence of the republic. Popular favor, however, had re- 
 warded him for this weak compliance as if it had been a 
 virtue. Sent soon after to republican Savoy, he was at 
 the same time a conqueror and conquered: he came to the 
 Chateau of Marches, and saw these two beautiful orphans 
 without a guardian or protector; the one in all the splen- 
 dor of her grown-up beauty, the other with all the tender 
 grace of budding girlhood. A passionate love for the 
 Countess de Bellegarde took possession of his heart ; while 
 his burning eloquence inspired these young girls with an 
 enthusiasm for his own opinions. The two sisters had 
 been introduced by him as models to the fanatical people 
 of those provinces. A little later he became unpopular 
 with his party from his moderation, and H^rault de Sech- 
 elles followed Danton to the scaffold, and died an honest 
 republican, a victim to the crimes of the people. 
 
 The Countess of Bellegarde and her innocent sister 
 wished to share his fate ; but even these brutal judges, 
 dazzled by their youth and beauty, would not condemn 
 them. They had lived ever since that time in the Chateau 
 of Marches, sharing in the society around them, and in the 
 reaction against the Terrorists, of whom they had so 
 nearly been the victims. The events of the 20th of March 
 had revolted them ; they had quitted their ckdieau and 
 come to Nyons to live with the Royalists. It was thus 
 that I first became acquainted with them, and in their en- 
 thusiastic declarations I recognized the pupils of him in 
 whose political .school they had been brought up. 
 
 Two days after, I resolved to profit by my near neigh- 
 borhood to see, at least once before her death, Madame de 
 Stael, who had long been the object of my antipathy on 
 account of her father, and of my enthusiasm as regarded 
 herself. Coppet, which was the abode of M. Necker, had 
 
312 LAMARTINE 
 
 been previously bought by my grandfather, who had kept 
 it a long time without living in it ; but all of a sudden the 
 canton of Berne passed a law refusing the rights of pro- 
 prietorship to any Catholic ; so that he ceded it to I know 
 not whom, and bought in its stead the beautiful castle of 
 Ursy, in Burgundy. I felt that it would hardly be right 
 for me, as a guest of the Vincys, to go and introduce 
 myself at the Chateau of Coppet as a pilgrim at the tomb 
 of M. Necker, whom it was impossible for me to admire or 
 to love. "I should be wanting to two persons," I said: 
 " to Madame de Vincy and to myself. I will not go ! " 
 Only, as the high-road is the property of everybody, I 
 thought a cat might look at a king, and that a glimpse of 
 her would satisfy without compromising me. I knew that 
 Madame de Stael went twice a week to Geneva with cer- 
 tain friends of hers, among whom were two beautiful 
 women, one Madame R^camier, her great friend, exiled, 
 like her, from all countries under the dominion of the Em- 
 peror ; the other, Mile, de Constant, a German, of still 
 wider reputation ; but, at this period of my life, the ad- 
 miration of genius extinguished all other in my heart. 
 
 I got up, therefore, very early one Saturday, which was 
 the day they told me Madame de Stael made her weekly 
 expedition to Geneva, and putting a piece of bread in my 
 pocket, I hid myself at a turn of the road from Coppet to 
 Geneva, being partly concealed by a great ditch on the 
 high-road, by the side of which her carriage must neces- 
 sarily pass. I remained there from nine o'clock in the 
 morning till two o'clock in the afternoon, hidden by the 
 shrubs at the side of the road ; during which time I 
 amused myself by reading "Corinne* (that beautiful work 
 of that modern Sappho), and listening with a quick ear to 
 the least sound of a carriage coming from Coppet. In 
 spite of the poetic interest of this beautiful book on Italy, 
 the day appeared to me rather long, and I at last deter- 
 mined to quit my hiding-place, when to my great joy I 
 heard the rolling of two carriages, which left me no doubt 
 as to their occupants. They passed like the wind; the first 
 contained only two gentlemen with Mile. Constant ; a beau- 
 tiful person in the flower of her age. I could only, how- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 313 
 
 ever, snatch one look at her, which was followed by an 
 involuntary cry of admiration. The next carriage, which 
 was an open one, contained two women, whom it was im- 
 possible not to recognize. One was Madame Rdcamier, 
 whose angelic face could bear no other name, and of whom 
 it was said that one look sufficed to bind your heart to her 
 forever; but her beauty, although it dazzled, did not dis- 
 tract me. Her companion, who was speaking to her in a 
 loud voice, was, however, the person of whom I was in 
 search. I had time to take in her features thoroughly, for 
 the horses slacked their speed at a little rise there was in 
 the ground. Madame de Stael was, as usual, dressed in 
 an Indian turban, of which the varied and well-assorted 
 colors seemed to be magically reflected upon her forehead. 
 The forehead was large, prominent, and high, as if to give 
 space to a whole world of thought and new ideas ; it 
 shaded to prominent eyes of magnificent shape and bril- 
 liancy ; all her expression, in fact, lay in these eyes ; they 
 spoke more than her mouth. Her nose was short and 
 finely shaped ; her lips thick and open, made for eloquence 
 or for love ; her complexion was pale, but brightened by a 
 look of inspiration. Her arms, which were always in move- 
 ment, and exposed by short, open sleeves, were white and 
 magnificent ; her whole person, though large, was not want- 
 ing in a grace which called forth admiration ; in fact, it 
 commanded it. The little hill had been climbed. The 
 horses started again at a trot, and nothing remained to me 
 but the dust they left behind them. Genius had passed 
 me with its escort of beauty ; but what remained on one's 
 memory was the genius. I could not finish the volume of 
 " Corinne " after having seen its author ! I came back very 
 late and found my friends waiting for me for supper. I 
 was obliged to own to Madame de Vincy what had been 
 the cause of my long absence. "Why did you not tell me 
 of your very natural admiration ? " replied this noble 
 woman ; " in spite of some differences of opinion, we have 
 for Madame de Stael as much enthusiasm as yourself. We 
 would have taken and introduced you to her. It is impos- 
 sible to see without admiring her, or to be her neighbor 
 without loving her. Her faults are those of her training 
 
314 LAMARTINE 
 
 and her wit ; her good qualities belong to her own heart ; 
 the foundation of all her glory is really her goodness." 
 " No, " I replied to my kind hostess. " I would rather 
 have seen her quietly without knowing her ; I have had a 
 glimpse of genius, and it was as rapid and fugitive as 
 itself ; " and then we began to talk of other things. 
 
 I had spent three weeks in this delightful house in a 
 delicious intimacy with the Vincy family ; but I knew the 
 extreme poverty of the house, and I was afraid of being 
 indiscreet, and perhaps burdensome. I settled, therefore, to 
 delay no longer my start for Neufch&tel and La Chaux-de- 
 Fond, to seek the French royalist military gathering. They 
 smiled at my enthusiasm, but they let me go. A gentleman 
 from Lyons, who was a great agriculturist, came in the 
 same way that I had done to present himself to Monsieur 
 de Vincy, and gave me a pretext for departure. I took 
 leave of my kind and generous hosts with a pang; it ap- 
 peared to me as if I were again parting from my own fam- 
 ily. Madame and Mile, de Vincy had tears in their eves 
 at wishing me good-by. I started with my Lyons compan- 
 ion, but promised to return if the gathering at La Chaux- 
 de-Fond disappointed my expectations. At RoUo we char- 
 tered a kind of Swiss car to conduct us to Neufchitel. 
 Our vetturino brought us there in three days, the road 
 winding round the base of the Jura mountains, amidst the 
 most beautiful scenery possible, with the Lakes Leman, 
 Yverdun, and of Neufchitel to the right, and grand rocks 
 and pine forests to the left. We were perfectly charmed 
 with our expedition, and as our opinions were identical, 
 there was nothing in our conversation to mar our enjoy- 
 ment of this magnificent scenery. The first question we 
 asked on arriving at the hotel at Neufchitel was about the 
 French military gathering at La Chaux-de-Fond. No one 
 had an idea of what we meant! 'I began to fear our roy- 
 alist visions would vanish in smoke. My companion was so 
 discouraged that he decided to return to his Lyons prop- 
 ertj'. I, however, was determined to persevere in the search, 
 and next day started on foot for La Chaux-de-Fond. The 
 path led through a beautiful forest of sombre pines and mag- 
 nificent waterfalls, and I did not arrive there till the morning 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 315 
 
 of the following day. I^a Chaux-de-Fond was then a poor little 
 Swiss village, situated on the extreme frontiers of France, 
 and inhabited by peasants who were all clock-makers. Its 
 picturesque wooden houses were scattered here and there 
 over the plain which led to the pine wood. My appear- 
 ance and dress were rather those of a journeyman watch- 
 maker, who was coming to seek employment from one of 
 the clock-makers in the district. I went into the first 
 public-house I came to, and asked for the address of the 
 head of the stafE of the French army. The people looked 
 at one another with surprise, and after having said some- 
 thing in a patois unintelligible to me, concluded with a 
 smile that I was wishing to find a French priest named 
 1,'Abbe I^afond, who had been living in the only decent 
 hotel in the village for one or two months, and to whose 
 lodging they proposed to conduct me. I began to doubt 
 the existence of a staff corps, which thus disappeared like a 
 mirage, and which seemed to be represented by an abbe in 
 a wild village on the side of the Alps ; however, having 
 come so far, I was determined to see, and I saw. What 
 was called the great hotel of lya Chaux-de-Fond was a little 
 house at the end of a long solitary street, on the opposite 
 side to that by which I had come into the village. A 
 young girl, who had volunteered to be my guide, said smil- 
 ing to the innkeeper, '^ Here is a gentleman who is look- 
 ing for the French army ; they told him at our house 
 that its head-quarters were with you, and that its gen- 
 eral was I,' Abbe lyafond ! *' "It's quite true," replied 
 the innkeeper ; " we have got here a gentleman who calls 
 himself the Abbe I/afond, but who says he is a major-general 
 in the Freneh army. If you, sir," he added, turning to 
 me, " wish to speak to him, I will go and ask him to come 
 down-stairs ; in the meantime, here is a little table with 
 some fresh bread and cheese, and beer, to refresh you after 
 your hot walk. " They brought me, accordingly, this primi- 
 tive breakfast, and I sat down to eat it in the best parlor of 
 the little inn. 
 
 I was hardly seated at the table, however, before I saw 
 a little man with a beaming face, between thirty and forty 
 years of age, come rapidly down a little wooden staircase. 
 
3i6 LAMARTINE 
 
 "Oh! there is Monsieur I'Abbd Lafond,'* exclaimed the serv- 
 ant, and she brought him to where I was sitting. He was 
 dressed in a brown great-coat, which was half military, half 
 ecclesiastical. His black stockings carefully drawn up over 
 his well-made calves, reminded one of a priest ; while the 
 black cravat and military collar made me fancy that he was 
 an oflScer. He thus represented a double character, the ec- 
 clesiastic below and the soldier above; he was, in fact, 
 made to suit every taste. I got up and bowed, while he 
 came forward smiling, and asked me, " What had brought 
 me to see him in this out-of-the-way part of the world ? " 
 I begged him to sit down. He said he would breakfast 
 with me, and ordered some eggs, and we entered into con- 
 versation while filling our glasses with beer. " You have 
 come from Monsieur de Viucy," he said to me at last. 
 "Here is a letter from him," I replied. He read it, and 
 then said quietly; ''This is just what I had supposed." I 
 continued : " I am come to join the little army which is 
 being organized, I am told, under your orders, at La Chaux- 
 de-Fond. I will not serve with strangers against France, 
 but I am dying to fight for the King against the Emperor ; 
 where is the army?" "The army!" he exclaimed; "why, 
 it is I ! there is no other. Was not I alone, two years 
 ago, the army of a general, who, with the help of a single 
 man, put a whole ministry in prison, and an empire in his 
 pocket ? Men after all are nothing ; it is the idea which is 
 all in all ; the idea is mine, and if I can persuade every 
 one from here to Besangon (as I have done) that a formida- 
 ble army has been formed on this frontier, ready to act 
 when the time comes, is it not as useful, and as much 
 dreaded by the enemy as if indeed numberless battalions 
 were prepared to enter France by this route, to bear succor 
 to the Royalists? Without money, without pay, without 
 soldiers, without arms, I keep a whole province in check, 
 and paralyze both Besangon and Belfort. You see that you 
 come yourself to join us, and you find only a head instead 
 of arms ; believe me, it is enough ; stay with me, we shall 
 be two instead of one ; and when the Emperor has been 
 defeated in the open fields by the armies of Europe, we 
 shall have been believed to have led a general insurrection, 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 317 
 
 and the East of France will think that their deliverance is 
 owing to us." I fairly burst out laughing. "From this 
 statement, Monsieur I'Abb^, am I to imagine that shadows 
 are as powerful as bodies, and that imagination surpasses 
 reality ? " He replied : " Have I not already clearly proved 
 in 1813, that if General Hulin had consented to allow him- 
 self to be convinced by a ball in his jaw that the Kmperor 
 was dead, the empire would have died in reality ? " " You 
 are right. Monsieur 1' Abb6, " I answered ; " but a surprise 
 is not a revolution. Some man comes, more curious, or per- 
 haps, you will say, more obstinate than others. Instead of 
 a well-appointed army he finds nothing but an ecclesiastic ; 
 and if he does not want to pass for an adventurer, he blows 
 upon the shadow, and its nothingness is made apparent. 
 Let us have our breakfast together in peace, and I will 
 take leave of you afterward. I shall not believe again so 
 lightly in representations from a distance, and shall content 
 myself with waiting; while you must be satisfied with my 
 good wishes." He saw that his army would never arrive 
 at more than one man ; but he comforted himself by giving 
 me all the details of Malet's conspiracy, in which he had 
 played the principal part. Fifteen or twenty innocent Bona- 
 partists had been shot to convince the Emperor of the reality 
 of the conspiracy ; the Abb6 I^afond, who was the only 
 guilty one, escaped. He evidently hoped to play the same 
 game a second time ; but I refused to act as his second. I 
 must do him the justice to say, that he was a man of won- 
 derful genius and resources. When he was the chaplain of 
 a madhouse close to one where General Malet was expiating 
 a previous sentence, he felt that he wanted a soldier to pull 
 the strings of a military conspiracy, and persuaded him to 
 undertake it. He had but one man, it is true, but he very 
 nearly succeeded. He was confident of succeeding again, 
 but miracles do not happen twice in a man's life. It was 
 impossible to hear any one relate a story which one might 
 think little to the credit of an ecclesiastic, with more con- 
 fidence in the purity of his motives. He was really a mas- 
 ter in political intrigue ; but he had not the art of varying 
 his subject ; he always played the same tune. After having 
 studied him for one whole evening, although immensely 
 
3i8 LAMARTINE 
 
 struck by his genius, I left him the next day without 
 regret, and went back to Neufch&tel, my illusory search 
 after military glory being dispelled. I came back by Berne 
 to the Chdteau de Vincy, where I gave them a full account 
 of the puerilities of the Ahh6 I/afond. I always wonder 
 what has become of him since, but I never could find out. 
 He lives, and probably conspires still. I have always been 
 astonished not to hear of him as having been shot in some 
 great conspiracy strangled at the birth; but I believe that 
 there is a special Providence which watches over men of 
 this sort, and that I/'Abb^ l,afond will probably go to his 
 grave in peace. 
 
 At Paris, the Emperor could not live long on the con- 
 spiracy of Elba, and the Royalists and Liberals gave him 
 little time to decide on any line of conduct. He was con- 
 tinually promising reforms ; but his only real hope was in 
 the army. Before he was really ready, he made up his 
 mind to take the field. Waterloo was to cut the knot ; 
 that day, so fatal to military France, was drawing near ! 
 In the meanwhile I resolved to pass into Savoy on the 
 other side of the lake. 
 
 There was a boatman in the Savoyard village of Narnier 
 who spent his time in ferrying over the inhabitants of the 
 two countries, from the Swiss to the Savoyard side of the 
 
 lake. He was known to Mademoiselle , the mistress 
 
 of the hotel where the Mesdames Bellegarde lived. I took 
 leave a second time, therefore, of my kind hostesses at the 
 Chdteau de Vincy, and went to Nyons. I begged the mis- 
 tress of the inn to recommend me to the boatman of Nar- 
 nier as a good Royalist flying from Imperial France, and 
 only wishing to live in peace until the political horizon 
 brightened. The boatman, himself a devoted Royalist, con- 
 sented on these terms to ferry me over. I embarked in 
 his little open felucca, which was loaded with cattle, to- 
 ward the end of June; but it was one of those stormy 
 days which made the Lake Leman as tempestuous as the 
 Archipelago. We had, in consequence, a very dangerous 
 crossing, and the waves increasing in violence as we ap- 
 proached the shores of Savoy, prolonged our voyage till far 
 into the night. Luckily, one billow, larger than the rest, 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 319 
 
 threw us safely on the sand. At Narnier I went to lodge 
 in the house of the boatman himself, who consented to 
 shelter me for some hours. During supper I asked him if 
 there were any lodgings in this place which would receive 
 me at a very low price, for my journey to Neufch&tel and 
 Berne had made a great hole in my fifty pounds ; and if 
 my exile were to be prolonged some time longer, I began 
 to think I must pass over to England or to Russia, and 
 earn my bread by teaching French. The boatman spoke to 
 his daughter (a young woman of about twenty years of 
 age) about a little empty house on the borders of the lake, 
 which had been used as a guard-house by the custom- 
 house officers of the King of Sardinia until the breaking 
 out of the war ; but which he would be very willing to let 
 to me if I could content myself with such humble accom- 
 modation, and if the hay of his poor neighbors, which he 
 yearly deposited there, was no inconvenience to me. *The 
 house," he said, turning to me, '4s about a quarter of an 
 hour's walk from Narnier: if this arrangement should be 
 agreeable to you, I would let you the apartment for two- 
 pence-halfpenny a day, and would feed you for sevenpence- 
 halfpenny a meal ; without meat certainly, but with excellent 
 bread, lake trout, and cheese." That would come to ten- 
 pence a day, and his proposal suited not only my purse, 
 but fully satisfied my love of solitude ; so that the bargain 
 was struck, and the very next day his daughter took me 
 to my new quarters. 
 
 On leaving the village of Narnier, an unfrequented little 
 path leads across some beautiful meadows by the side of the 
 lake. After walking for some minutes in silence with my 
 guide, I heard the regular noise of the waves of the lake 
 grating on the rocky promontories, and dying away softly 
 on the yellow sand of the shore, while the fresh breeze 
 from the lake refreshed my whole frame. At a little dis- 
 tance I perceived a square and solitary building very much 
 like the hull of a shipwrecked vessel ; the walls on the 
 shore-side had only a low door, which was partly hidden 
 by a group of osiers ; on the water-side was a little win- 
 dow, low and narrow, like a loophole, from whence you 
 could watch the lake without being yourself observed. 
 
320 LAMARTINE 
 
 Window and door, all was shut ; there was no sign of life 
 about the place, nor a sound in the house or out of it ; it 
 reminded one of the dwelling of a leper in the Middle 
 Ages, such as Xavier de Maistre described in his " Solitude " 
 some months before ; only there was no leper. " Here is 
 the house, sir," said the young boat-woman to me, not, 
 however, without a look of some anxiety, as if she were 
 afraid that the mournful appearance of everything" would 
 disgust me with the place. 
 
 While speaking she put a great wooden key into the lock, 
 and the heavy door rolled on its hinges. A bat, the only 
 inhabitant of the place, flew in my face, blindly knocking 
 its wings against the wall ; but I was not thereby dismayed, 
 and we went up-stairs to the only room in the house, which 
 had served as the head-quarters of the custom-house officer. 
 The room was not more than eight or ten feet in diameter, 
 with the exception of a window, which remained open to 
 give some air to the forage. Everything was full of hay. 
 " This is the room," said hesitatingly and modestly the girl ; 
 then, as if ashamed to offer so extraordinary a lodging to 
 a stranger, she hastily added, "But of course, it will be 
 emptied and cleaned ; and we shall put a nice bed and 
 table in the place of the hay. " As she spoke she gave un- 
 intentionally a little kick with her sabot to the dried grass 
 before us, and out rushed a whole army of mice, which be- 
 gan racing about the room. " Oh ! what pleasant bed-fel- 
 lows, " I said, laughingly, to the girl : « Bats and rats ! 
 Well," I addeti, after a few minutes, putting my head out 
 of the window and contemplating the beautiful waves which 
 dashed gently against the walls of the cottage, the glorious 
 scenery of the mountains of the Pays de Vaud in front of 
 me, and the two promontories which formed the bay of 
 Narnier, " well, I find the house charming, and I will take 
 it." Her face expanded with pride and satisfaction, while I 
 sat quietly down on the hay. "I don't want any other 
 bed," I continued; "a pair of sheets and a counterpane are 
 all I need ; I shall do very well here. I am used to cam- 
 paigning, and the smell of the hay is rather pleasant to 
 me than otherwise. Are you married mademoiselle ? " " No, 
 sir," she replied; "my father is a widower and old. He 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 321 
 
 would remain quite alone here if I were to leave him ; there 
 would be nobody in the house to make his soup ; no one 
 in the boat to mend his sails ; no one at the helm to 
 guide the rudder. I could not make up my mind to leave 
 my father." "You are a good and noble girl," I answered, 
 "and God will bless you for it.'' I looked at her with an 
 expression which seemed to say, "Any man would have 
 been happy to have won so fair a face." She rowed me 
 quietly back, without speaking, to her father's house. "I 
 will bring you some fresh bread and milk and cheese every 
 morning for your breakfast," she said, as we landed; "and 
 I will fry your fish and make you some coffee at home for 
 your dinner ; that is all I can do, I am afraid as I am not 
 a great * artiste ' ; you will forgive, monsieur, such plain 
 country fare ; it is not like the inn at Nyons, you 
 see ! " 
 
 The boatman was very much pleased to find that his 
 strange little house on the lake would answer my purpose. 
 Everything was arranged that evening to my satisfaction. 
 I dined at Narnier with my host, and in the evening I 
 went and installed myself in my new abode. All my bag- 
 gage went in a pocket-handkerchief, and consisted of some 
 books brought from Nyons and a pair of pocket-pistols, 
 which I placed in front of my window. I slept on the hay 
 as one sleeps at eighteen. The troubled mice ran about all 
 night, trying to find their accustomed holes, and the bats 
 cried out at dawn of day ; but that only showed me that 
 I was not alone. The swallows knocked their wings against 
 my window early in the morning, and were very much aston- 
 ished to find the panes of glass which had been put in the 
 night before by the young boat-woman. I got up and 
 opened the window, and they flew fearlessly about my 
 room ; then I took my pencil, and looking beyond the lake 
 to the little white speck which marked the Chateau of 
 Vincy, I wrote the following verses : — 
 
 Pourquoi me fuir, passagkre hirondelle f 
 Viens reposer ton aile aupris de moi. 
 
 Pourquoi me fuir quand un ami t'appelle f 
 Ne suis-je pas voyageur coinm.e toi ? etc. 
 
322 LAMARTINE 
 
 The daughter of the boatman came to knock at my door 
 at the very moment I was finishing these verses, which I men- 
 tally addressed to Vincy. I gave them to nobody, and I 
 was very much astonished some years after to hear them 
 sung at Paris and attributed to Monsieur de Ch&teaubriand. 
 They were not worth his while to disown, nor mine to 
 claim. We all remember his touching romance, 
 
 Ma sceur, te souviens-tu encore 
 Du chdteau que haignait la Dore, 
 Et de cette tant vielle Tour 
 Du More, 
 
 Ou Vairain sonnait le retour 
 DU jour? 
 
 Chateaubriand was a great poet in prose, and I was noth- 
 ing but the nightingale stammering by chance a plaintive 
 air in my solitude. 
 
 I continued to live alone in my empty dwelling with va ^ 
 dumb companions. Oh ! how happy I should have been if 
 Providence had granted me a dog ! One, at last, came to 
 me from a castle near Narnier, who attached himself to me 
 because I petted him, and he found me alone. Whenever 
 a person is unhappy, God sends him a dog ; I have proved 
 it twenty times, although man does not always perceive it. 
 The moment the dog adopted me, my solitude ceased ; for 
 he never left me. We loved one another, and so we 
 walked, eat, and slept together ; and he understood me as 
 thoroughly as I did him. I had now two friends, the dog 
 and the boatman's daughter, and my days were calm, peace- 
 ful, and delicious. 
 
 The news of the battle of Waterloo came to me one 
 morning in a little boat rowed by a messenger from Ma- 
 dame de Vincy. I watched it at sunrise out of my win- 
 dow like a seagull whose wings are colored by the rays of 
 the morning, never dreaming that this little skiff bore for 
 me a new fate — the fate of the whole world. The boat 
 grounded on the sand ; I put my head out of the window 
 and the messenger asked me if I knew a young French- 
 man who had taken refuge at Narnier? I replied that I 
 was the person of whom he was in search. He gave me 
 directly a long letter from Madame de Vincy, and a quan- 
 
AUTOBIOGRAPHY 323 
 
 tity of newspapers from Geneva. The letter ran thus : 
 " I do not know whether you will be able to rejoice at the 
 misfortunes of your countrymen ; but as far as we are con- 
 cerned we cannot help being delighted at the victory of 
 Europe over tyranny. Bonaparte has been bitterly pun- 
 ished for his rash enterprise ; he has been entirely defeated 
 and put to flight at Quatre Bras. He is already at Paris, 
 and has no longer any army. Oceans of blood have flowed 
 on all sides, — the French are completly beaten ; our own 
 son is badly wounded ; but the world is saved. I send you 
 all the details in the inclosed packet of newspapers ; send 
 them back to us." The boat was moored to the shore ; 
 the morning breeze carried off the letter. I fell eagerly on 
 the papers which were at my feet but I could scarcely sit 
 still and read of our disasters. It was impossible to rejoice 
 at the destruction of the whole French army ; but, if Bonaparte 
 had won, the cause of the King would have been lost. I was si- 
 lent and undecided from conflicting emotions. Finally I burst 
 into tears. Was it from sorrow as a Frenchman, or from joy 
 as a partisan? I could not explain this even to myself. 
 Kvery one will understand this conflict of feeling ; but no 
 one can express it : my tears said what words could not. 
 This is the misfortune of the bad actions into which the 
 ambition of one man drags his country. . . . 
 
ROMANCE 
 
 SALAMMBO 
 GusTAVE Flaubert 
 
GUSTAVE FIvAUBERT 
 
 THE appearance of * Madame Bovary " in 1857 started 
 the realistic movement which ran to the verge of a 
 craze. Its photographic fidelity to life, including 
 trivial details which, in less able hands, would have over- 
 whelmed the dramatic interest, drew public attention to its 
 method and tendency. A prosecution was instituted but 
 failed, and the author was justified in the public eye. 
 
 In 1862 he issued the powerful romance of ancient Carthage 
 which bears the name of " Salammbo, " its heroine. Flau- 
 bert had qualified himself for the writing of this remarkable 
 work by residence in Africa and long studies in archaeology 
 and history. It, too, is realistic in the strongest sense. 
 Once read it remains a fixed picture in the memory. 
 Flaubert was a favorite pupil of Balzac. Nothing is hur- 
 ried or merely sketched. There is at least the genius of 
 infinite painstaking in all his work, and its impressive 
 massiveness will insure its permanence among the master- 
 pieces of the century. Flaubert was born in 182 1 and died 
 in 1880. 
 
SALAMMBO 
 
 THE moon was rising just above the waves, and on the 
 town which was still wrapped in darkness there glit- 
 tered white and luminous specks — the pole of a 
 chariot, a dangling rag of linen, the corner of a wall, or a 
 golden necklace on the bosom of a god. The glass balls 
 on the roofs of the temple beamed like great diamonds here 
 and there. But ill-defined ruins, piles of black earth, and 
 gardens formed deeper masses in the gloom, and below 
 Malqua fishermen's nets stretched from one house to an- 
 other like gigantic bats spreading their wings. The grind- 
 ing of the hydraulic wheels which conveyed water to the 
 highest stories of the palaces, was no longer heard ; and 
 the camels lying ostrich fashion on their stomachs, rested 
 peacefully in the middle of the terraces. The porters were 
 asleep in the streets on the thresholds of the houses ; the 
 shadows of the colossuses stretched across the deserted 
 squares ; occasionally in the distance the smoke of a still 
 burning sacrifice would escape through the bronze tiling, 
 and the heavy breeze would waft the odors of aromatics 
 blended with the scent of the sea and the exhalation from 
 the sun-heated walls. The motionless waves shone around 
 Carthage, for the moon was spreading her light at once 
 upon the mountain-circled gulf and upon the lake of Tunis, 
 where flamingoes formed long rose-colored lines amid the 
 banks of sand, while further on beneath the catacombs the 
 great salt lagoon shimmered like a piece of silver. The 
 blue vault of heaven sank on the horizon in one direction 
 into the dustiness of the plains, and in the other into the 
 mists of the sea, and on the summit of the Acropolis, the 
 pyramidal cypress trees, fringing the temple of Eschmoun, 
 swayed murmuring like the regular waves that beat slowly 
 along the mole beneath the ramparts. 
 
 (329) 
 
330 FLAUBERT 
 
 Salammbo ascended to the terrace of her palace, supported 
 by a female slave who carried an iron dish filled with live coals. 
 
 In the middle of the terrace there was a small ivory bed 
 covered with lynx skins, and cushions made with the 
 feathers of the parrot, a fatidical animal consecrated to the 
 gods, and at the four corners rose four long perfuming- 
 pans filled with nard, incense, cinnamomum, and myrrh. 
 The slave lit the perfumes. Salammbo looked at the polar 
 star ; she slowly saluted the four points of heaven, and 
 knelt down on the ground in the azure dust which was 
 strewn with golden stars in imitation of the firmament. 
 Then with both elbows against her sides, her fore-arms 
 straight and her hands open, she threw back her head 
 beneath the rays of the moon, and said : — 
 
 "O, Rabetna — Baalet — Tanith ! * and her voice was 
 lengthened in a plaintive fashion as though to call some 
 one. " Anaitis ! Astarte ! Derceto ! Astoreth ! Mylitta ! 
 Athara ! Klissa ! Tiratha ! By the hidden symbols — by the 
 resounding sistra — by the furrows of the earth — by the 
 eternal silence and by the eternal fruitfulness — mistress of 
 the gloomy sea and of the azure shores. O ! Queen of the 
 watery world, all hail ! " 
 
 She swayed her whole body twice or thrice, and then 
 cast herself face downward in the dust with both arms 
 outstretched. 
 
 But the slave nimbly raised her, for according to the 
 rites some one must catch the suppliant at the moment of 
 his prostration ; this told him that the gods accepted him, 
 and Salammbo's nurse never failed in this pious duty. 
 
 Some merchants from Darytian Gsetulia had brought her 
 to Carthage when quite young, and after her enfranchise- 
 ment she would not forsake her old masters as was shown 
 by her right ear, which was pierced with a large hole. A 
 petticoat of many-colored stripes fitted closely on her hips, 
 and fell to her ankles, where two tin rings clashed to- 
 gether. Her somewhat flat face was yellow like her tunic. 
 Silver bodkins of great length formed a sun behind her 
 head. She wore a coral button on the nostril, and she 
 stood beside the bed more erect than a Hermes, and with 
 her eyelids cast down. 
 
SALAMMBO 331 
 
 Salammbo walked to the edge of the terrace ; her eyes swept 
 the horizon for an instant, and then were lowered upon 
 the sleeping town, while the sigh that she heaved swelled 
 her bosom, and gave an undulating movement to the whole 
 length of the long white simar which hung without clasp 
 or girdle about her. Her curved and painted sandals were 
 hidden beneath a heap of emeralds, and a net of purple 
 thread was filled with her disordered hair. 
 
 But she raised her bead to gaze upon the moon, and 
 murmured, mingling her speech with fragments of hymns : 
 
 "How lightly turnest thou supported by the impalpable 
 ether ! It brightens about thee, and 'tis the stir of thine 
 agitation that distributes the winds and fruitful dews. Ac- 
 cording as thou dost wax and wane the eyes of cats and 
 spots of panthers lengthen or grow short. Wives shriek 
 thj' name in the pangs of childbirth ! Thou makest the 
 shells to swell, the wine to bubble, and the corpse to 
 putrefy ! Thou formest the pearls at the bottom of the 
 sea ! 
 
 ** And every germ, O Goddess ! ferments in the dark 
 depths of thy moisture. 
 
 " When thou appearest, quietness is spread abroad upon 
 the earth ; the flowers close, the waves are soothed, 
 wearied man stretches his breast toward thee, and the 
 world with its oceans and mountains looks at itself in thy 
 face as in a mirror. Thou art white, gentle, luminous, 
 immaculate, helping, purifying, serene ! " 
 
 The crescent of the moon was then over the mountain 
 of the Hot Springs, in the hollow formed by its two sum- 
 mits, on the other side of the gulf. Below it there was a 
 little star, and all around it a pale circle. Salammbo 
 went on : — 
 
 * But thou art a terrible mistress ! Monsters, terrifying 
 phantoms, and lying dreams come from thee ; thine eyes 
 devour the stones of buildings, and the apes are ever ill 
 each time thou growest young again. 
 
 " Whither goest thou ? Why dost thou change thy forms 
 continually? Now, slender and curved thou glidest through 
 space like a mastless galley; and then, amid the stars, thou 
 art like a shepherd keeping his flock. Shining and round. 
 
332 FLAUBERT 
 
 thou dost graze the mountain-tops like the wheel of a 
 chariot. 
 
 " O, Tanith ! thou dost love me ? I have looked so much 
 on thee ! But no! thou sailest through thine azure, and 
 I — I remain on the motionless earth. 
 
 " Taanach, take your nebal and play softly on the silver 
 string, for my heart is sad ! " 
 
 The slave lifted a sort of harp of ebony wood, taller than 
 herself, and triangular in shape like a delta ; she fixed the 
 point in a crystal globe, and with both arms began to play. 
 
 The sounds followed one another hurried and deep, like 
 the buzzing of bees, and with increasing sonorousness 
 floated away into the night with the complaining of the 
 waves, and the rustling of the great trees on the summit 
 of the Acropolis. 
 
 "Hush!" cried Salammbo. 
 
 " What ails you, mistress ? The blowing of the breeze, 
 the passing of a cloud, everything disquiets you just 
 now ! » 
 
 " I do not know," she said. 
 
 " You are wearied with too long prayers ! " 
 
 " Oh ! Taanach, I would fain be dissolved in them like a 
 flower in wine ! " 
 
 "Perhaps it is the smoke of your perfumes?" 
 
 " No ! " said Salammbo ; " the spirit of the gods dwells in 
 fragrant odors." 
 
 Then the slave spoke to her of her father. It was 
 thought that he had gone toward the amber country, 
 behind the pillars of Melkarth. "But if he does not 
 return," she said, "you must nevertheless, since it was his 
 will, choose a husband among the sons of the Ancients, and 
 then your grief will pass away in a man's arms." 
 
 " Why ? " asked the young girl. All those that she had 
 seen had horrified her with their fallow-deer laughter and 
 their coarse limbs. 
 
 " Sometimes, Taanach, from the depths of my being there 
 exhale as it were hot fumes heavier than the vapors from 
 a volcano. Voices call me, a globe of fire rolls and mounts 
 within my bosom, it stifles me, I am at the point of death ; 
 and then, something sweet, flowing from my brow to my 
 
SALAMMBO 333 
 
 feet, passes through my flesh — it is a caress enfolding me, 
 and I feel myself crushed as though a god were stretched 
 upon me. Oh! would that I could lose myself in the mists 
 of the night, the waters of the fountains, the sap of the 
 trees, that I could issue from my body, and be but a 
 breath, or a ray, and glide, mount up to thee, O, 
 Mother ! » 
 
 She raised her arms to their full length, arching her 
 form, which in its long garment was as pale and light as 
 the moon. Then she fell back, panting on the ivory couch ; 
 but Taanach passed an amber necklace with dolphin's 
 teeth about her neck to banish terrors, and Salammbo 
 said in an almost stifled voice : " Go and bring me Scha- 
 habarim. " 
 
 Her father had not wished her to enter the college 
 of priestesses, nor even to be made at all acquainted with 
 the popular Tanith. He was reserving her for some 
 alliance that might serve his political ends ; so that 
 Salammbo lived alone in the midst of the palace. Her 
 mother was long since dead. 
 
 She had grown up with abstinences, fastings, and purifi- 
 cations, always surrounded by grave and exquisite things, 
 her body saturated with perfumes, and her soul filled with 
 prayers. She had never tasted wine, nor eaten meat, nor 
 touched an unclean animal, nor set her heels in the house 
 of death. 
 
 She knew nothing of obscene images, for as each god 
 was manifested in different forms, the same principle often 
 received the witness of contradictory cults, and Salammbo 
 worshiped the Goddess in her sidereal presentation. An 
 influence had descended upon the maiden from the moon ; 
 when the planet passed diminishing away, Salammbo grew 
 weak. She languished the whole day long, and revived at 
 evening. During an eclipse she had nearly died. 
 
 But Rabetna, in jealousy, revenged herself for the virgin- 
 ity withdrawn from her sacrifices, and she tormented Sa- 
 lammbo with possessions, all the stronger for being vague, 
 which were spread through this belief and excited by it. 
 
 Unceasingly was Hamilcar's daughter disquieted about 
 Tanith. She had learned her adventures, her travels, and 
 
334 FLAUBERT 
 
 all her names, whicli she would repeat without their hav- 
 ing any distinct signification for her. In order to penetrate 
 into the depths of her dogma, she wished to become ac- 
 quainted, in the most secret part of the temple, with the 
 old idol in the magnificent mantle, whereon depended the 
 destinies of Carthage, for the idea of a god did not stand 
 out clearly from his representation, and to hold, or even 
 see the image of one, was to take away part of his virtue, 
 and in a measure to rule him. 
 
 But Salammbo turned round. She had recognized the 
 sound of the golden bells which Schahabarim wore at the 
 hem of his garment. 
 
 He ascended the staircase ; then at the threshold of the 
 terrace he stopped and folded his arms. 
 
 His sunken eyes shone like the lamps of a sepulchre ; 
 his long thin body floated in its linen robe which was 
 weighted by the bells, the latter alternating with balls of 
 emeralds at his heels. He had feeble limbs, an oblique 
 skull, and a pointed chin ; his skin seemed cold to the 
 touch, and his yellow face, which was deeply furrowed with 
 wrinkles, was as though contracted in a longing, in an ever- 
 lasting grief. 
 
 He was the high priest of Tanith, and it was he who had 
 educated Salammbo. 
 
 « Speak! » he said. "What will you?" 
 
 " I hoped — you had almost promised me — " She stam- 
 mered and was confused ; then suddenly : *' Why do you 
 despise me? what have I forgotten in the rites? You are 
 my master, and you told me that no one was so accom- 
 plished in the things pertaining to the Goddess as I ; but 
 there are some of which you will not speak. Is it so, O 
 father?" 
 
 Schahabarim remembered Hamilcar's orders, and replied : 
 
 " No, I have nothing more to teach you ! " 
 
 "A Genius," she resumed, "impels me to this love. I 
 have climbed the steps of Eschmoun, god of the planets 
 and intelligences ; I have slept beneath the golden olive of 
 Melkarth, patron of the Tyrian colonies; I have pushed 
 open the doors of Baal-Khamon, the enlightener and fer- 
 tilizer ; I have sacrificed to the subterranean Zabiri, to the 
 
SALAMMBO 335 
 
 gods of woods, winds, rivers, and mountains ; but, can you 
 understand? they are all too far away, too high, too insen- 
 sible, while she — I feel her mingled in my life ; she fills 
 my soul, and I quiver with inward startings, as though she 
 were leaping in order to escape. Methinks I am about to 
 hear her voice, and see her face, lightnings dazzle me and 
 then I sink again into the darkness." 
 
 Schahabarim was silent. She entreated him with sup- 
 pliant looks. At last he made a sign for the dismissal of 
 the slave, who was not of Chanaanitish race. Taanach dis- 
 appeared and, Schahabarim, raising one arm in the air, 
 began : — 
 
 " Before the gods darkness alone was, and a breathing 
 stirred dull and indistinct as the conscience of a man in a 
 dream. It contracted, creating Desire and Cloud, and from 
 Desire and Cloud there issued primitive Matter. This was 
 a water, muddy, black, icy, and deep. It contained senseless 
 monsters, incoherent portions of the forms to be born, 
 which are painted on the walls of the sanctuaries. 
 
 " Then Matter condensed. It became an egg. It burst. 
 One half formed the earth and the other the firmament. 
 Sun, moon, winds, and clouds appeared, and at the crash of 
 the thunder intelligent creatures awoke. Then Eschmoun 
 spread himself in the starry sphere ; Khamon beamed in 
 the sun ; Melkarth thrust him with his arms behind Gades ; 
 the Kabiri descended beneath the volcanoes, and Rabetna 
 like a nurse bent over the world pouring out her light like 
 milk, and her night like a mantle." 
 
 *And then" she said. 
 
 He had related the secret of the origins to her, to divert 
 her from sublimer prospects ; but the maiden's desire kindled 
 again at his last words, and Schahabarim, half yielding re- 
 sumed : — 
 
 "She inspires and governs the loves of men." 
 
 " The loves of men ! " repeated Salammbo dreamily. 
 
 " She is the soul of Carthage, " continued the priest ; 
 "and although she is everywhere diffused, it is here that 
 she dwells, beneath the sacred veil." 
 
 " O father ! " cried Salammbo, " I shall see her, shall I 
 not ? you will bring me to her ! I had long been hesitating ; 
 
336 FLAUBERT 
 
 I am devoured with curiosity to see her form. Pity ! help 
 me ! let us go ? " 
 
 He repulsed her with a vehement gesture that was full 
 of pride. 
 
 " Never ! Do you not know that it means death ? The 
 hermaphrodite Baals are unveiled to us alone who are men 
 in understanding and women in weakness. Your desire 
 is sacrilege ; be satisfied with the knowledge that you pos- 
 sess ! " 
 
 She fell upon her knees placing two fingers against her 
 ears in token of repentance; and crushed by the priest's 
 words, and filled at once with anger against him, with 
 terror and with humiliation, she burst into sobs. Schaha- 
 barim remained erect, and more insensible than the stones 
 of the terrace. He looked down upon her quivering at his 
 feet, and felt a kind of joy on seeing her suffer for his 
 divinity whom he himself could not wholly embrace. The 
 birds were already singing, a cold wind was blowing, and 
 little clouds were drifting in the paling sky. 
 
 Suddenly he perceived on the horizon, behind Tunis, 
 what looked like slight mists trailing along the ground ; 
 then these became a great curtain of dust extending per- 
 pendicularly, and, amid the whirlwinds of the thronging 
 mass, dromedaries' heads, lances, and shields appeared. It 
 was the army of the Barbarians advancing upon Carthage. 
 
 BATTLE OF THE MACARAS 
 
 THBN Hamilcar grew extraordinarily pale, and those 
 who were leaning over the pit outside saw him rest- 
 ing one hand against the wall to keep himself from 
 falling. 
 
 But the jackal uttered its cry three times in succession. 
 Hamilcar raised his head ; he did not speak a word nor 
 make a gesture. Then when the sun had completely set 
 he disappeared behind the nopal hedge, and in the evening 
 he said as he entered the assembly of the Rich in the 
 temple of Eschmoun : — 
 
SALAMMBO 337 
 
 "lYUminaries of the Baalim, I accept the command of the 
 Punic forces against the army of the Barbarians ! * 
 
 On the following day he drew two hundred and twenty- 
 three thousand kikars of gold from the Syssitia, and de- 
 creed a tax of fourteen shekels upon the Rich. Even the 
 women contributed ; payment was made on behalf of the 
 children, and he compelled the colleges of priests to fur- 
 nish money — a monstrous thing according to Carthaginian 
 customs. 
 
 He demanded all the horses, mules, and arms. A few 
 tried to conceal their wealth, and their property was sold ; 
 and, to intimidate the avarice of the rest, he himself gave 
 sixty suits of armor, and fifteen hundred gomers of meal, 
 which was as much as was given by the Ivory Company. 
 
 He sent into l,iguria to buy soldiers, three thousand 
 mountaineers accustomed to fight with bears ; they were 
 paid for six moons in advance at the rate of four minse a 
 day. 
 
 Nevertheless an army was wanted. But he did not, like 
 Hanno, accept all the citizens. First he rejected those en- 
 gaged in sedentary occupations, and then those who were 
 big-bellied or had a pusillanimous look ; and he admitted 
 those of ill-repute, the scum of Malqua, sons of Barbarians, 
 freedmen. For reward he promised some of the New Car- 
 thaginians complete rights of citizenship. 
 
 His first care was to reform the lyegion. These hand- 
 some young fellows, who regarded themselves as the military 
 majesty of the Republic, governed themselves. He re- 
 duced their officers to the ranks ; he treated them harshly, 
 made them run, leap, ascend the declivity of the Byrsa at 
 a single burst, hurl javelins, wrestle together, and sleep in 
 the squares at night. Their families used to come to see 
 them and pity them. 
 
 He ordered shorter swords and stronger buskins. He 
 fixed the number of serving-men, and reduced the amount 
 of baggage and as there were three hundred Roman pila kept 
 in the temple of Moloch, he took them in spite of the 
 pontiff's protests. 
 
 He organized a phalanx of seventy-two elephants with those 
 who had returned from Utica, and others which were private 
 22 
 
338 FLAUBERT 
 
 property and rendered them formidable. He armed their 
 drivers with mallet and chisel to enable them to split their 
 skulls in the fight if they ran away. 
 
 He would not allow his generals to be nominated by the 
 Grand Council. The Ancients tried to urge the laws in 
 objection, but he set them aside ; no one ventured to mur- 
 mur again, and everything yielded to the violence of his 
 genius. 
 
 He assumed sole charge of the war, the government, and 
 the finances; and as a precaution against accusations, he 
 demanded the Suffet Hanno as examiner of his accounts. 
 
 He set to work upon the ramparts, and had the old and 
 now useless inner walls demolished in order to furnish 
 stones. But difference of fortune, replacing the hier- 
 archy of race, still kept the sons of the vanquished and 
 those of the conquerors apart ; thus the patricians viewed 
 the destruction of these ruins with an angry eye, while the 
 plebeians, scarcely knowing why, rejoiced. 
 
 The troops defiled under arms through the streets from 
 morning till night ; every moment the sound of trumpets 
 was heard ; chariots passed bearing shields, tents, and 
 pikes ; the courts were full of women engaged in tearing 
 up linen ; the enthusiasm spread from one to another, and 
 Hamilcar's soul filled the Republic. 
 
 He had divided his soldiers into even numbers, being 
 careful to place a strong man and a weak one alternately 
 throughout the length of his files, so that he who was less 
 vigorous or more cowardly might be at once led and pushed 
 forward by two others. But with his three thousand lyigu- 
 rians, and the best in Carthage, he could form only a 
 simple phalanx of four thousand and ninety-six hoplites, 
 protected by bronze helmets, and handling ashen sarissse 
 fourteen cubits long. 
 
 There were two thousand young men, each equipped with 
 a sling, a dagger, and sandals. He reinforced them with 
 eight hundred others armed with round shields and Roman 
 swords. 
 
 The heavy cavalry was composed of the nineteen hun- 
 dred remaining guardsmen of the Legion, covered with plates 
 of vermilion bronze, like the Assyrian Clinabarians. He had 
 
SALAMMBO 339 
 
 further four hundred mounted archers, of those that were 
 called Tarentines, with caps of weasel's skin, two-edged 
 axes, and leathern tunics. Finally there were twelve hun- 
 dred Negroes from the quarter of the caravans, who were 
 mingled with the Clinabarians, and were to run beside the 
 stallions with one hand resting on the manes. All was 
 ready, and yet Hamilcar did not start. 
 
 Often at night he would go out of Carthage alone and 
 make his way beyond the lagoon toward the mouths of the 
 Macaras. Did he intend to join the Mercenaries? The 
 I^igurians encamped in the Mappalian district surrounding 
 his house. 
 
 The apprehensions of the Rich appeared justified when, 
 one day, three hundred Barbarians were seen approaching 
 the walls. The SufEet opened the gates to them ; they 
 were deserters ; drawn by fear or by fidelity they were 
 hastening to their master. 
 
 Hamilcar's return had not surprised the Mercenaries ; ac- 
 cording to their ideas the man could not die. He was 
 returning to fulfill his promise ; a hope by no means absurd, 
 so deep was the abyss between Country and Army. More- 
 over they did not believe themselves culpable ; the feast 
 was forgotten. 
 
 The spies whom they surprised undeceived them. It 
 was a triumph for the bitter ; even the lukewarm grew 
 furious. Then the two sieges overwhelmed them with 
 weariness ; no progress was being made ; a battle would be 
 better ! Thus many men had left the ranks and were 
 scouring the country. But at news of the arming they re- 
 turned ; Matho leaped for joy. " At last ! at last ! " he 
 cried. 
 
 Then the resentment which he cherished against Sa- 
 lammbo was turned against Hamilcar. His hate could now 
 perceive a definite prey ; and as his vengeance grew easier 
 of conception he almost believed that he had realized it 
 and he reveled in it already. At the same time he was 
 seized with a loftier tenderness, and consumed by more 
 acrid desire. He saw himself alternately in the midst of 
 the soldiers brandishing the Suffet's head on a pike, and 
 then in the room with the purple bed, clasping the maiden 
 
340 
 
 FLAUBERT 
 
 in his arms, covering lier face with kisses, passing his 
 hands over her long, black hair ; and the imagination of 
 this, which he knew could never be realized, tortured him. 
 He swore to himself that, since his companions had ap- 
 pointed him schalishim, he would conduct the war ; the 
 certainty that he would not return from it urged him to 
 render it a pitiless one : — 
 
 He came to Spendius and said to him : — 
 
 " You will go and get your men ! I will bring mine ! 
 Warn Autaritus ! We are lost if Hamilcar attacks us. Do 
 you understand me ? Rise ! " 
 
 Spendius was stupefied before such an air of authority. 
 Matho usually allowed himself to be led, and his previous 
 transports had quickly passed away. But just now he ap- 
 peared at once calmer and more terrible ; a superb will 
 gleamed in his eyes like the flame of a sacrifice. 
 
 The Greek did not listen to his reasons. He was living 
 in one of the Carthaginian pearl-bordered tents, drinking 
 cool beverages from silver cups, playing at the cottabos, 
 letting his hair grow, and conducting the siege with slack- 
 ness. Moreover, he had entered into communications with 
 some in the town and would not leave, being sure that it 
 would open its gates before many days were over. 
 
 Narr' Havas, who wandered about among the three 
 armies, was at that time with him. He supported his 
 opinion, and even blamed the Libyan for wishing in his 
 excess of courage to abandon their enterprise. 
 
 " Go, if you are afraid ! " exclaimed Matho ; " you prom- 
 ised us pitch, sulphur, elephants, foot-soldiers, horses 1 
 where are they ? " 
 
 Narr' Havas reminded him that he had exterminated 
 Hanno's last cohorts — as to the elephants, they were being 
 hunted in the woods, he was arming the foot-soldiers, the 
 horses were on their way ; and the Numidian rolled his 
 eyes like a woman and smiled in an irritating manner, as 
 he stroked the ostrich feather which fell upon his shoulder. 
 In his presence Matho was at a loss for a reply. 
 
 But a man who was a stranger entered, wet with per- 
 spiration, scared, and with bleeding feet and loosened gir- 
 dle ; his breathing shook his lean sides enough to have burst 
 
SALAMMBO 341 
 
 them, and speaking in an unintelligible dialect he opened 
 his eyes wide as though he were telling of some battle. 
 The king sprang outside and called his horsemen. 
 
 They ranged themselves in the plain before him in the 
 form of a circle. Narr' Havas, who was mounted, bent 
 his head and bit his lips. At last he separated his men 
 into two equal divisions, and told the first to wait ; then 
 with an imperious gesture he carried off the others at a 
 gallop and disappeared on the horizon in the direction of 
 the mountains. 
 
 " Master ! " murmured Spendius, * I do not like these 
 extraordinary chances — the SufEet returning. Narr' Havas 
 going away " 
 
 " Why ! what does it matter ? * said Matho disdainfully. 
 
 It was a reason the more for anticipating Hamilcar by 
 uniting with Autaritus. But if the siege of the towns 
 were raised, the inhabitants would come out and attack 
 them in the rear, while they would have the Carthaginians 
 in front. After much talking the following measures were 
 resolved upon and immediately executed. 
 
 Spendius proceeded with fifteen thousand men as far as 
 the bridge built across the Macaras, three miles from Utica ; 
 the corners of it were fortified with four huge towers pro- 
 vided with catapults ; all the paths and gorges in the moun- 
 tains were stopped up with trunks of trees, pieces of rock, 
 interfacings of thorn, and stone walls ; on the summits 
 heaps of grass were made which might be lighted as signals, 
 and shepherds who were able to see at a distance were 
 posted at intervals. 
 
 No doubt Hamilcar would not, like Hanno, advance by 
 the mountain of the Hot Springs. He would think that 
 Autaritus, being master of the interior, would close the 
 route against him. Moreover, a check at the opening of 
 the campaign would ruin him, while if he gained a victory 
 he would soon have to make a fresh beginning, the Merce- 
 naries being further off. Again, he could disembark at 
 Cape Grapes and march thence upon one of the towns. 
 But he would then find himself between the two armies, an 
 indiscretion which he could not commit with his scanty 
 forces. Accordingly he must proceed along the base of 
 
342 FLAUBERT 
 
 Mount Ariana, then turn to the left to avoid the mouths 
 of the Macaras, and come straight to the bridge. It was 
 there that Matho expected him. 
 
 At night he used to inspect the pioneers by torchlight. 
 He would hasten to Hippo-Zarytus or to the works on the 
 mountains, would come back again, would never rest. 
 Spendius envied his energy ; but in the management of 
 spies, the choice of sentries, the working of the engines 
 and all means of defense, Matho listened docilely to his 
 companion. They spoke no more of Salammbo — one not 
 thinking about her, and the other being prevented by a 
 feeling of shame. 
 
 Often he would go toward Carthage, striving to catch 
 sight of Hamilcar's troops. His eyes would dart along the 
 horizon ; he would lie flat on the ground, and believe that 
 he could hear an army in the throbbing of his arteries. 
 
 He told Spendius that if Hamilcar did not arrive within 
 three days he would go with all his men to meet him and 
 offer him battle. Two further days elapsed. Spendius re- 
 strained him ; but on the morning of the sixth day he 
 departed. 
 
 The Carthaginians were no less impatient for war than 
 the Barbarians. In tents and in houses there was the same 
 longing and the same distress ; all were asking one another 
 what was delaying Hamilcar. 
 
 From time to time he would mount to the cupola of the 
 temple of Eschmoun beside the Announcer of the Moons 
 and take note of the wind. 
 
 One day — it was the third of the month of Tibby — 
 they saw him descending from the Acropolis with hurried 
 steps. A great clamor arose in the Mappalian district. 
 Soon the streets were astir, and the soldiers were every- 
 where beginning to arm surrounded by weeping women who 
 threw themselves upon their breasts ; then they ran quickly 
 to the square of Khamon to take their places in the ranks. 
 No one was allowed to follow them or even to speak to 
 them, or to approach the ramparts ; for some minutes the 
 whole town was as silent as a great tomb. The soldiers as 
 they leaned on their lances were thinking, and the others 
 in the houses were sighing. 
 
SALAMMBO 343 
 
 At sunset the army went out by the western gate ; but 
 instead of taking the road to Tunis or making for the 
 mountains in the direction of Utica, they continued their 
 march along the edge of the sea ; and they soon reached 
 the I^agoon, where round spaces quite whitened with salt 
 glittered like gigantic silver dishes forgotten on the shore. 
 
 Then the pools of water multiplied. The ground gradu- 
 ally became softer, and the feet sank in it. Hamilcar did 
 not turn back. He went on still at their head ; and his 
 horse, which was yellow -spotted like a dragon, advanced 
 into the mire flinging froth around him, and with great 
 straining of the loins. Night — a moonless night — fell. 
 A few cried out that they were going to perish ; he snatched 
 their arms from them, and gave them to the serving-men. 
 Nevertheless the mud became deeper and deeper. Some had 
 to mount the beasts of burden ; others clung to the horses' 
 tails ; the sturdy pulled the weak, and the I,igurian corps 
 drove on the infantry with the points of their pikes. The 
 darkness increased. They had lost their way. All stopped. 
 
 Then some of the Suffet's slaves went on ahead to look 
 for the buoys which had been placed at intervals by his 
 order. They shouted through the darkness, and the army 
 followed them at a distance. 
 
 At last they felt the resistance of the ground. Then a 
 whitish curve became dimly visible, and they found them- 
 selves on the banks of the Macaras. In spite of the cold 
 no fires were lighted. 
 
 In the middle of the night squalls of wind arose. Hamil- 
 car had the soldiers aroused, but not a trumpet was sounded : 
 their captains tapped them softly on the shoulder. 
 
 A man of lofty stature went down into the water. It 
 did not come up to his girdle ; it was possible to cross. 
 
 The SufEet ordered thirty-two of the elephants to be 
 posted in the river a hundred paces further on, while the 
 others, lower down, would check the lines of men that 
 were carried away by the current; and holding their wea- 
 pons above their heads they all crossed the Macaras as 
 though between two walls. He had noticed that the west- 
 ern wind had driven the sand so as to obstruct the river 
 and form a natural causeway across it. 
 
344 FLAUBERT 
 
 He was now on the left bank in front of Utica, and in a 
 vast plain, the latter being advantageous for his elephants, 
 which formed the strength of his army. 
 
 This feat of genius filled the soldiers with enthusiasm. 
 They recovered extraordinary confidence. They wished to 
 hasten immediately against the Barbarians; but the Suffet 
 made them rest for two hours. As soon as the sun ap- 
 peared they moved into the plain in three lines — first came 
 the elephants, and then the light infantry, with the cavalry 
 behind it, the phalanx marching next. 
 
 The Barbarians encamped at Utica, and the fifteen thou- 
 sand about the bridge were surprised to see the ground 
 undulating in the distance. The wind, which was blowing 
 very hard, was driving tornadoes of sand before it ; they 
 rose as though snatched from the soil, ascended in great 
 light-colored strips, then parted asunder and began again, 
 hiding the Punic army the while from the Mercenaries. 
 Owing to the horns which stood up on the edge of the 
 helmets, some thought that they could perceive a herd of 
 oxen ; others, deceived by the motion of the cloaks, pre- 
 tended that they could distinguish wings, and those who 
 had traveled a good deal shrugged their shoulders and 
 explained everything by the illusions of the mirage. Never- 
 theless something of enormous size continued to advance. 
 I,ittle vapors, as subtle as the breath, ran across the sur- 
 face of the desert ; the sun, which was higher now, shone 
 more strongly ; a harsh light, which seemed to vibrate, threw 
 back the depths of the sky, and, permeating objects, ren- 
 dered distance incalculable. The immense plain expanded 
 in every direction beyond the limits of vision ; and the 
 almost insensible undulations of the soil extended to the 
 extreme horizon, which was closed by a great blue line 
 which they knew to be the sea. The two armies, having 
 left their tents, stood gazing; the people of Utica were 
 massing on the ramparts to have a better view. At last 
 they distinguished several tranverse bars bristling with level 
 points. They became thicker, larger ; black hillocks swayed 
 to and fro ; square thickets suddenly appeared ; they were 
 elephants and lances. A single shout went up : * The 
 Carthaginians ! " and without signal or command the sol- 
 
SALAMMBO 345 
 
 diers at Utica and those at the bridge ran pell-mell to fall 
 in a body upon Hamilcar. 
 
 Spendius shuddered at the name. " Hamilcar ! Hamil- 
 car !" he repeated, panting, and Matho was not there ! 
 What was to be done ? No means of flight ! The sudden- 
 ness of the event, his terror of the Suffet, and above all, 
 the urgent need of forming an immediate resolution, dis- 
 tracted him ; he could see himself pierced by a thousand 
 swords, decapitated, dead. Meanwhile he was being called 
 for ; thirty thousand men would follow him ; he was seized 
 with fury against himself ; he fell back upon the hope of 
 victory ; it was full of bliss, and he believed himself more 
 intrepid than Kpaminondas. He smeared his cheeks with 
 vermilion in order to conceal his paleness, then he buckled 
 on his knemids and his cuirass, swallowed a patera of pure 
 wine, and ran after his troops, who were hastening toward 
 those from Utica. 
 
 They united so rapidly that the Suffet had not time to draw 
 up his men in battle array. By degrees he slackened his 
 speed. The elephants stopped ; they rocked their heavy 
 heads with their chargings of ostrich feathers, striking their 
 shoulders the while with their trunks. 
 
 Behind the intervals between them might be seen the 
 cohorts of the velites, and further on the great helmets of 
 the Clinabarians, with steel heads glancing in the sun, 
 cuirasses, plumes, and waving standards. But the Car- 
 thaginian army, which amounted to eleven thousand three 
 hundred and ninety-six men, seemed scarcely to contain 
 them, for it formed an oblong, narrow at the sides and 
 pressed back upon itself. 
 
 Seeing them so weak, the Barbarians, who were thrice as 
 numerous, were seized with extravagant joy. Hamilcar was 
 not to be seen. Perhaps he had remained down yonder? 
 Moreover what did it matter? The disdain which they felt 
 for these traders strengthened their courage ; and before 
 Spendius could command a manoeuver they had all under- 
 stood it, and already executed it. 
 
 They deployed in a long, straight line, overlapping the 
 wings of the Punic army in order to completely encompass 
 it. But when there was an interval of only three hundred 
 
346 FLAUBERT 
 
 paces between the armies, the elephants turned round in- 
 stead of advancing ; then the Clinabarians were seen to face 
 about and follow them ; and the surprise of the Mercenaries 
 increased when they saw the archers running to join them, 
 So the Carthaginians were afraid, they were fleeing ! A 
 tremendous hooting broke out from among the Barbarian 
 troops, and Spendius exclaimed from the top of his drom- 
 edary : " Ah ! I knew it ! Forward ! forward I " 
 
 Then the javelins, darts, and sling-bullets burst forth 
 simultaneously. The elephants feeling their croups stung 
 by the arrows began to gallop more quickly ; a great dust 
 enveloped them, and they vanished like shadows in a 
 cloud. 
 
 But from the distance there came a loud noise of foot- 
 steps dominated by the shrill sound of the trumpets, which 
 were being blown furiously. The space which the Barba- 
 rians had in front of them, and which was full of eddies 
 and tumult, attracted like a whirlpool ; some dashed into 
 it. Cohorts of infantry appeared ; they closed up ; and at 
 the same time all the rest saw the foot-soldiers hastening 
 up with the horsemen at a gallop. 
 
 Hamilcar had, in fact, ordered the phalanx to break its 
 sections, and the elephants, light troops, and cavalry to 
 pass through the intervals so as to bring themselves speed- 
 ily upon the wings, and so well had he calculated the dis- 
 tance from the Barbarians, that at the moment when they 
 reached him, the entire Carthaginian army formed one long 
 straight line. 
 
 In the centre bristled the phalanx, formed of syntagmata 
 or full squares having sixteen men on each side. All the 
 leaders of all the files appeared amid long, sharp lance- 
 heads, which jutted out unevenly around them, for the six 
 first ranks crossed their sarissse, holding them in the 
 middle, and the ten lower ranks rested them upon the 
 shoulders of their companions in succession before them. 
 Their faces were all half hidden beneath the visors of their 
 helmets ; their right legs were all covered with bronze kne- 
 mids ; broad cylindrical shields reached down to their knees ; 
 and the horrible quadrangular mass moved in a single body, 
 and seemed to live like an animal and work like a machine. 
 
SALAMMBO 347 
 
 Two cohorts of elephants flanked it in regular array ; 
 quivering, they shook off the splinters of the arrows that 
 clung to their black skins. The Indians, squatting on their 
 withers among the tufts of white feathers, restrained them 
 with their spoon-headed harpoons, while the men in the 
 towers, who were hidden up to their shoulders, moved 
 about iron distaffs furnished with lighted tow on the edges 
 of their large bended bows. Right and left of the elephants 
 hovered the slingers, each with a sling around his loins, a 
 second on his head, and a third in his right hand. Then 
 came the Clinabarians, each flanked by a negro, and point- 
 ing their lances between the ears of their horses, which, 
 like themselves, were completely covered with gold. After- 
 ward, at intervals, came the light-armed soldiers with 
 shields of lynx skin, beyond which projected the points of 
 the javelins which they held in their left hands ; while the 
 Tarentines, each having two coupled horses, relieved this 
 wall of soldiers at its two extremities. 
 
 The army of the Barbarians, on the contrary had not 
 been able to preserve its line. Undulations and blanks 
 were to be found through its extravagant length ; all were 
 panting and out of breath with their running. The phalanx 
 moved heavily along with thrusts from all its sarissae; and 
 the too slender line of the Mercenaries soon yielded in the 
 centre beneath the enormous weight. 
 
 Then the Carthaginian wings expanded in order to fall 
 upon them, the elephants following. The phalanx, with 
 obliquely pointed lances, cut through the Barbarians ; there 
 were two enormous, struggling bodies ; and the wings with 
 slings and arrows beat them back upon the phalangites. 
 There was no cavalry to get rid of them, except two hun- 
 dred Numidians operating against the right squadron of 
 the Clinabarians. All the rest were hemmed in, and un- 
 able to extricate themselves from the lines. The peril was 
 imminent, and the need of coming to some resolution 
 urgent. 
 
 Spendius ordered attacks to be made simultaneously on 
 both flanks of the phalanx so as to pass clean through it. 
 But the narrower ranks glided below the longer ones 
 and recovered their position, and the phalanx turned upon 
 
348 FLAUBERT 
 
 the Barbarians as terrible in flank as it had just been in 
 front. 
 
 They struck at the staves of the sarissse, but the cavalry 
 in the rear embarrassed their attack ; and the phalanx, sup- 
 ported by the elephants, lengthened and contracted, pre- 
 senting itself in the form of a square, a cone, a rhombus, 
 a trapezium, a pyramid. A twofold internal movement went 
 on continually from its head to its rear ; for those who 
 were at the lowest part of the files hastened up to the first 
 ranks, while the latter, from fatigue, or on account of the 
 wounded, fell further back. The Barbarians found them- 
 selves thronged upon the phalanx. It was impossible 
 for it to advance ; there was, as it were, an ocean wherein 
 leaped red crests and scales of brass, while the bright 
 shields rolled like silver foam. Sometimes broad currents 
 would descend from one extremity to the other, and then 
 go up again, while a heavy mass remained motionless in 
 the centre. The lances dipped and rose alternately. Else- 
 where there was so quick a play of naked swords that only 
 the points were visible, while turmas of cavalry formed wide 
 circles which closed again like whirlwinds behind them. 
 
 Above the voices of the captains, the ringing of clarions 
 and the grating of lyres, bullets of lead and almonds of 
 clay whistled through the air, dashing the sword from the 
 hand or the brain out of the skull. The wounded, shelter- 
 ing themselves with one arm beneath their shields, pointed 
 their swords by resting the pommels upon the ground, 
 while others, lying in pools of blood, would turn and bite 
 the heels of those above them. The multitude was so com- 
 pact, the dust so thick, and the tumult so great that it was 
 impossible to distinguish anything ; the cowards who offered 
 to surrender were not even heard. Those whose hands were 
 empty clasped one another close ; breasts cracked against 
 cuirasses, and corpses hung with head thrown back between 
 a pair of contracted arms. There was a company of sixty 
 Umbrians who, firm on their hams, their pikes before their 
 eyes, immovable and grinding their teeth, forced two syn- 
 tagmata to recoil simultaneously. Some Epirote shepherds 
 ran upon the left squadron of the Clinabarians and, whirl- 
 ing their staves, seized the horses by the mane; the ani- 
 
SALAMMBO 349 
 
 mals threw their riders and fled across the plain. The 
 Punic slingers scattered here and there stood gaping. The 
 phalanx began to waver, the captains run to and fro in 
 distraction, the rearmost in the files were pressing upon 
 the soldiers, and the Barbarians had re-formed ; they were 
 recovering ; the victory was theirs. 
 
 But a cry, a terrible cry broke forth, a roar of pain and 
 wrath : it came from the seventy-two elephants which were 
 rushing on in double line. Hamilcar having waited until the 
 Mercenaries were massed together in one spot to let them 
 loose against them ; the Indians had goaded them so vigor- 
 ously that blood was trickling down their broad ears. Their 
 trunks, which were smeared with minium, were stretched 
 straight out in the air like red serpents ; their breasts were 
 furnished with spears and their backs with cuirasses ; their 
 tusks were lengthened with steel blades curved like sabres 
 — and to make them more ferocious they had been intoxi- 
 cated with a mixture of pepper, wine, and incense. They 
 shook their necklaces of bells and shrieked ; and the ele- 
 phantarchs bent their heads beneath the stream of phala- 
 ricas which was beginning to fly from the tops of the 
 towers. 
 
 In order to resist them the better the Barbarians rushed 
 forward in a compact crowd ; the elephants flung themselves 
 impetuously upon the centre of it. The spurs on their 
 breasts, like ships' prows, clove through the cohorts which 
 flowed surging back. They stifled the men with their 
 trunks, or else snatching them up from the ground delivered 
 them over their heads to the soldiers in the towers ; with 
 their tusks they disemboweled them, and hurled them into 
 the air, and long entrails hung from their ivory fangs like 
 bundles of ropes from a mast. The Barbarians strove to 
 blind them, to hamstring them ; others would slip beneath 
 their bodies, bury a sword in them up to the hilt, and per- 
 ish crushed to death ; the most intrepid clung to their 
 straps; they would go on sawing the leather amid flames, 
 bullets, and arrows, and the wicker tower would fall like a 
 tower of stone. Fourteen of the animals on the extreme 
 right, irritated by their wounds, turned upon the second 
 rank ; the Indians seized mallet and chisel, applied the latter 
 
350 FLAUBERT 
 
 to a joint in the head, and with all their might struck a 
 great blow. 
 
 Down sank the huge beasts, falling one above another. 
 It was like a mountain ; and upon the heap of dead 
 bodies and armor a monstrous elephant, called "The Fury 
 of Baal," which had been caught by the leg in some 
 chains, stood howling until the evening with an arrow in 
 its eye. 
 
 The others, however, like conquerors delighting in exter- 
 mination, overthrew, crushed, stamped, and raged against 
 the corpses and the dSbris. To repel the maniples in ser- 
 ried circles around them, they turned about on their hind 
 feet as they advanced, with a continual rotatory motion. 
 The Carthaginians felt their energy increase, and the battle 
 began again. 
 
 The Barbarians were growing weak ; some Greek hop- 
 lites threw away their arms, and terror seized upon the rest. 
 Spendius was seen stooping upon his dromedary, and spur- 
 ring it on the shoulders with two javelins. Then they all 
 rushed away from the wings and ran toward Utica. 
 
 The Clinabarians, whose horses were exhausted, did not 
 try to overtake them. The Ligurians, who were weakened 
 by thirst, cried out for an advance toward the river. But 
 the Carthaginians, who were posted in the centre of the 
 syntagmata, and had suffered less, stamped their feet with 
 longing for the vengeance which was flying from them ; and 
 they were already darting forward in pursuit of the Mer- 
 cenaries when Hamilcar appeared. 
 
 He held in his spotted and sweat-covered horse with sil- 
 ver reins. The bands fastened to the horns on his helmet 
 flapped in the wind behind him, and he had placed his oval 
 shield beneath his left thigh. With a motion of his triple- 
 pointed pike he checked the army. 
 
 The Tarentines leaped quickly upon their spare horses, 
 and set off right and left toward the river and toward the 
 town. 
 
 The phalanx exterminated all the remaining Barbarians 
 at leisure. When the swords appeared they would stretch 
 out their throats and close their eyelids. Others defended 
 themselves to the last, and were knocked down from a dis- 
 
SALAMMBO 351 
 
 tance with flints like mad dogs. Hamilcar had desired the 
 taking of prisoners, but the Carthaginians obeyed him 
 grudgingly, so much pleasure did they derive from plung- 
 ing their swords into the bodies of the Barbarians. As 
 they were too hot they set about their work with bare 
 arms like mowers ; and when they desisted to take breath 
 they would follow with their eyes a horseman galloping 
 across the country after a fleeing soldier. He would suc- 
 ceed in seizing him by the hair, hold him thus for a while, 
 and then fell him with a blow of his axe. 
 
 Night fell. Carthaginians and Barbarians had disap- 
 peared. The elephants which had taken to flight roamed 
 in the horizon with their fired towers. These burned here 
 and there in the darkness like beacons half lost in the 
 mist ; and no movement could be discerned in the plain 
 save the undulation of the river, which was heaped with 
 corpses and was drifting them away to the sea. 
 
 Two hours afterward Matho arrived. He caught sight in 
 the starlight of long, uneven heaps lying upon the ground. 
 
 They were files of Barbarians. He stooped down ; all 
 were dead. He called into the distance, but no voice 
 replied. 
 
 That very morning he had left Hippo-Zarytus with his 
 soldiers to march upon Carthage. At Utica the army under 
 Spendius had just set out, and the inhabitants were begin- 
 ning to fire the engines. All had fought desperately. But, 
 the tumult which was going on in the direction of the 
 bridge increasing in an incomprehensible fashion. Matho 
 had struck across the mountain by the shortest road, and 
 as the Barbarians were fleeing over the plain he had en- 
 countered nobody. 
 
 Facing him were little pyramidal masses rearing them- 
 selves in the shade, and on this side of the river and closer 
 to him were motionless lights on the surface of the ground. 
 In fact the Carthaginians had fallen back behind the bridge, 
 and to deceive the Barbarians, the Suffet had stationed 
 numerous posts upon the other bank. 
 
 Matho, still advancing, thought that he could distinguish 
 Punic ensigns, for horses' heads which did not stir appeared 
 in the air fixed upon the tops of piles of staves which 
 
352 FLAUBERT 
 
 could not be seen ; and further off he could hear a great 
 clamor, a noise of songs, and clashing of cups. 
 
 Then, not knowing where he was nor how to find Spen- 
 dius, assailed with anguish, scared, and lost in the dark- 
 ness, he returned more impetuously by the same road. 
 The dawn was growing gray when from the top of the 
 mountain he perceived the town with the carcasses of the 
 engines blackened by the flames and looking like giant 
 skeletons leaning against the walls. 
 
 All was peaceful amid extraordinary silence and heaviness. 
 Among his soldiers on the verge of the tents men were 
 sleeping nearly naked, each upon his back, or with his 
 forehead against his arm which was supported by his 
 cuirass. Some were unwinding blood-stained bandages 
 from their legs. Those who were going to die rolled their 
 heads about gently ; others dragged themselves along and 
 brought them drink. The sentries walked up and down 
 along the narrow paths in order to warm themselves, or 
 stood in a fierce attitude with their faces turned toward the 
 horizon, and their pikes on their shoulders. Matho found 
 Spendius sheltered beneath a rag of canvas, supported by 
 two sticks set in the ground, his knee in his hands and 
 his head cast down. 
 
 They remained for a long time without speaking. 
 
 At last Matho murmured : " Conquered ! " 
 
 Spendius rejoined in a gloomy voice : " Yes, conquered ! " 
 
 And to all questions he replied by gestures of despair. 
 
 Meanwhile sighs and death-rattles reached them. Matho 
 partially opened the canvas. Then the sight of the soldiers 
 reminded 'him of another disaster on the same spot, and he 
 ground his teeth : " Wretch ! once already " 
 
 Spendius interrupted him : " You were not there 
 either." 
 
 " It is a curse ! " exclaimed Matho. " Nevertheless, in 
 the end I will get at him ! I will conquer him ! I will 
 
 slay him ! Ah ! if I had been there " The thought of 
 
 having missed the battle rendered him even more desperate 
 than the defeat. He snatched up his sword and threw it 
 upon the ground. " But how did the Carthaginians beat 
 you? " 
 
SALAMMBO 353 
 
 The former slave began to describe the manoeuvers. 
 Matho seemed to see them, and he grew angry. The army 
 from Utica ought to have taken Hamilcar in the rear in- 
 stead of hastening to the bridge. 
 
 « Ah ! I know ! " said Spendius. 
 
 "You ought to have made your ranks twice as deep, 
 avoided exposing the velites against the phalanx, and 
 given free passage to the elephants. Everything might 
 have been recovered at the last moment; there was no 
 necessity to fly." 
 
 Spendius replied : — 
 
 " I saw him pass along in his large red cloak, with up- 
 lifted arms and higher than the dust, like an eagle flying 
 upon the flank of the cohorts ; and at every nod they 
 closed up or darted forward ; the throng carried us toward 
 each other ; he looked at me, and I felt the cold steel, as 
 it were, in my heart." 
 
 " He selected the day, perhaps? " whispered Matho to himself. 
 
 They questioned each other, trying to discover what it 
 was that had brought the Suffet just when circumstances 
 were most unfavorable. They went on to talk over the 
 situation, and Spendius, to extenuate his fault or to re- 
 vive his courage, asserted that some hope still remained. 
 
 "And if there be none, it matters not!" said Matho; 
 " alone, I will carry on the war ! " 
 
 " And I too ! " exclaimed the Greek, leaping up ; he 
 strode to and fro, his eyes sparkling, and a strange smile 
 wrinkling his jackal face. 
 
 " We will make a fresh start ; do not leave me again ! 
 I am not made for battles in the sunlight — the flashing of 
 the swords troubles my sight ; it is a disease, I lived too 
 long in the ergastulum. But give me walls to scale at 
 night, and I will enter the citadels, and the corpses shall 
 be cold before cock-crow I Show me any one, anything, an 
 enemy, a treasure, a woman — a woman, " he repeated, 
 "were she a king's daughter, and I will quickly bring 
 your desire to your feet. You reproach me for having lost 
 the battle against Hanno, nevertheless I won it back again. 
 Confess it ! my herd of swine did more for us than a pha- 
 lanx of Spartans." 
 23 
 
354 FLAUBERT 
 
 And yielding to the need that he felt of exalting himself 
 and taking his revenge, he enumerated all that he had done 
 for the cause of the Mercenaries. " It was I who urged on 
 the Gaul in the Suffet's gardens ! Later on, at Sicca, I mad- 
 dened them all with fear of the Republic ! Gisco was send- 
 ing them back, but I prevented the interpreters speaking. 
 Ah ! how their tongues hung out of their mouths ! do you 
 remember? I brought you into Carthage; I stole the 
 zaimph. I led you to her. I will do more yet : you shall 
 see ! " He burst out laughing like a madman. 
 
 Matho regarded him with gaping eyes. He felt in a 
 measure uncomfortable in the presence of this man, who 
 was at once so cowardly and so terrible. 
 
 The Greek resumed in jovial tones and cracking his 
 fingers : — 
 
 " Evoe ! Sun after rain ! I have worked in the quarries, 
 and I have drunk Massic wine beneath a golden awning in 
 a vessel of my own like a Ptolemaeus. Calamity should 
 help to make us cleverer. By dint of work we may make 
 fortune bend. She loves politicians. She will yield 1 " 
 
 He returned to Matho and took him by the arm. 
 
 " Master, at present the Carthaginians are sure of their 
 victory. You have quite an army which has not fought, 
 and your men obey you. Place them in the front ; mine 
 will follow to avenge themselves. I have still three thou- 
 sand Carians, twelve hundred slingers and archers, whole 
 cohorts ! A phalanx even might be formed ; let us re- 
 turn ! » 
 
 Matho, who had been stunned by the disaster, had 
 hitherto thought of no means of repairing it. He listened 
 with open mouth, and the bronze plates which circled his 
 sides rose with the leapings of his heart. 
 
 He picked up his sword, crying : — 
 
 " Follow me ; forward ! " 
 
 But when the scouts returned, they announced that the 
 Carthaginian dead had been carried off, that the bridge was 
 in ruins, and that Hamilcar had disappeared. 
 
 Hamilcar had thought that the Mercenaries would await 
 him at Utica, or that they would return against him ; and 
 finding his forces insufficient to make or sustain an attack,. 
 
SALAMMBO 
 
 355 
 
 he had struck southward along the right bank of the river, 
 thus protecting himself immediately from a surprise. 
 
 He intended first to wink at the revolt of the tribes and 
 to detach them all from the cause of the Barbarians ; then 
 when they were quite isolated in the midst of the prov- 
 inces he would fall upon them and exterminate them. 
 
 In fourteen days he pacified the region comprised between 
 Thouccaber and Utica, with the towns of Tignicabah, Tes- 
 sourah, Vacca and others further to the west. Zounghar 
 built in the mountains, Assouras celebrated for its temple, 
 Djeraado fertile in junipers, Thapitis, and Hagour sent 
 embassies to him. The country people came with their 
 hands full of provisions, implored his protection, kissed his 
 feet and those of the soldiers, and complained of the Bar- 
 barians. Some came to offer him bags containing heads of 
 Mercenaries slain, so they said, by themselves, but which 
 they had cut off corpses ; for many had lost themselves in 
 their flight, and were found dead here and there beneath 
 the olive trees and among the vines. 
 
 On the morrow of his victory, Hamilcar, to dazzle the 
 people, had sent to Carthage the two thousand captives 
 taken on the battlefield. They arrived in long companies 
 of one hundred men each, all with their arms fastened 
 behind their backs with a bar of bronze which caught 
 them at the nape of the neck, and the wounded, bleeding 
 as they still were, running also along ; horsemen followed 
 them, driving them on with blows of the whip. 
 
 Then there was a delirium of joy! People repeated that 
 there were six thousand Barbarians killed ; the others would 
 not hold out, and the war was finished ; they embraced one 
 another in the streets, and rubbed the faces of the Pataec 
 gods with butter and cinnamomum to thank them. These, 
 with their big eyes, their big bodies, and their arms raised 
 as high as the shoulder, seemed to live beneath their fresh- 
 ened paint, and to participate in the cheerfulness of the 
 people. The Rich left their doors open ; the city resounded 
 with the noise of the timbrels ; the temples were illumi- 
 nated every night, and the servants of the goddess went 
 down to Malqua and set up stages of sycamore-wood at the 
 corners of the cross-ways, and prostituted themselves there. 
 
3S6 FLAUBERT 
 
 I^ands were voted to the conquerors, holocausts to Mel- 
 karth, three hundred gold crowns to the Suffet, and his 
 partisans proposed to decree to him new prerogatives and 
 honors. 
 
 He had begged the Ancients to make overtures to Auta- 
 ritus for exchanging all the Barbarians, if necessary, for 
 the aged Gisco, and the other Carthaginians detained like 
 him. The Libyans and Nomads composing the army under 
 Autaritus knew scarcely anything of these Mercenaries, who 
 were men of Ttaliote or Greek race ; and the ofEer by the 
 Republic of so many Barbarians for so few Carthaginians, 
 showed that the value of the former was nothing and that 
 of the latter considerable. They dreaded a snare. Auta- 
 ritus refused. 
 
 Then the Ancients decreed the execution of the captives, 
 although the SufEet had written to them not to put them 
 to death. He reckoned upon incorporating the best of them 
 with his own troops and of thus instigating defections. But 
 hatred swept away all circumspection. 
 
 The two thousand Barbarians were tied to the stelae of 
 the tombs in the Mappalian quarter ; and traders, scullions, 
 embroiderers, and even women — the widows of the dead 
 with their children — all who would, came to kill them with 
 arrows. They aimed slowly at them, the better to prolong 
 their torture, lowering the weapon and then raising it in 
 turn ; and the multitude pressed forward howling. Paralyt- 
 ics had themselves brought thither in hand-barrows ; many 
 took the precaution of bringing their food, and remained 
 on the spot until the evening ; others passed the night 
 there. Tents had been set up in which drinking went on. 
 Many gained large sums by hiring out bows. 
 
 Then all these- crucified corpses were left upright, looking 
 like so many red statues, on the tombs, and the excitement 
 even spread to the people of Malqua, who were the descen- 
 dants of the aboriginal families, and were usually indifferent 
 to the affairs of their country. Out of gratitude for the 
 pleasure it had been giving them they now interested them- 
 selves in its fortunes, and felt that they were Carthagin- 
 ians, and the Ancients thought it a clever thing to have 
 thus blended the entire people in a single act of vengeance. 
 
SALAMMBO 357 
 
 The sanction of the gods was not wanting; for crows 
 alighted from all quarters of the sky. They wheeled in 
 the air as they flew with loud hoarse cries, and formed a 
 huge cloud rolling continually upon itself. It was seen 
 from Clypea, Rhades, and the promontory of Hermaeum. 
 Sometimes it would suddenly burst asunder, its black 
 spirals extending far away, as an eagle clove the centre of 
 it, and then departed again ; here and there on the ter- 
 races, the domes, the peaks of the obelisks, and the pedi- 
 ments of the temples there were big birds holding human 
 fragments in their reddened beaks. 
 
 Owing to the smell the Carthaginians resigned themselves 
 to unbind the corpses. A few of them were burned ; the 
 rest were thrown into the sea, and the waves, driven by 
 the north wind, deposited them on the shore at the end of 
 the gulf before the camp of Autaritus. 
 
 This punishment had no doubt terrified the Barbarians, 
 for from the top of Eschmoun they could be seen striking 
 their tents, collecting their flocks, and hoisting their bag- 
 gage upon asses, and on the evening of the same day the 
 entire army withdrew. 
 
 It was to march to and fro between the mountains of 
 the Hot Springs and Hippo-Zarytus, and so debar the 
 Suffet from approaching the Tyrian towns, and from the 
 possibility of a return to Carthage. 
 
 Meanwhile the two other armies were to try to overtake 
 him in the south, Spendius in the east, and Matho in the 
 west, in such a way that all three should unite to surprise 
 and entangle him. Then they received a reinforcement 
 which they had not looked for: Narr' Havas reappeared 
 with three hundred camels laden with bitumen, twenty-five 
 elephants, and six thousand horsemen. 
 
 To weaken the Mercenaries the Suffet had judged it 
 prudent to occupy his attention at a distance in his own 
 kingdom. From the heart of Carthage he had come to an 
 understanding with Masgaba, a Gsetulian brigand who was 
 seeking to found an empire. Strengthened by Punic 
 money, the adventurer had raised the Numidian States with 
 promises of freedom. But Narr' Havas, warned by his 
 nurse's son, had dropped into Cirta, poisoned the con- 
 
3S8 FLAUBERT 
 
 querors with the water of the cisterns, struck off a few 
 heads, set all right again, and had just arrived against the 
 Suffet more furious than the Barbarians. 
 
 The chiefs of the four armies concerted the arrangements 
 for the war. It would be a long one, and everything must 
 be foreseen. 
 
 It was agreed first to entreat the assistance of the 
 Romans, and this mission was offered to Spendius, but as 
 a fugitive he dared not undertake it. Twelve men from 
 the Greek colonies embarked at Annaba in a sloop belong- 
 ing to the Numidians. Then the chiefs exacted an oath of 
 complete obedience from all the Barbarians. Every day the 
 captains inspected clothes and boots ; the sentries were even 
 forbidden to use a shield, for they would often lean it 
 against their lance and fall asleep as they stood ; those who 
 had any baggage trailing after them were obliged to get 
 rid of it ; everything was to be carried, in Roman fashion, 
 on the back. As a precaution against the elephants Matho 
 instituted a corps of cataphract cavalry, men and horses 
 being hidden beneath cuirasses of hippopotamus skin brist- 
 ling with nails ; and to protect the horses' hoofs boots of 
 plaited esparto grass were made for them. 
 
 It was forbidden to pillage the villages, or to tyrannize 
 over the inhabitants who were not of Punic race. But as 
 the country was becoming exhausted, Matho ordered the 
 provisions to be served out to the soldiers individually, 
 without troubling about the women. At first the men shared 
 with them. Many grew weak for lack of food. It was the 
 occasion of incessant quarrels and invectives, many drawing 
 away the companions of the rest by the bait or even by 
 the promise of their own portion. Matho commanded them 
 all to be driven away pitilessly. They took refuge in the 
 camp of Autaritus ; but the Gaulish and I^ibyan women 
 forced them by their outrageous treatment to depart. 
 
 At last they came beneath the walls of Carthage to im- 
 plore the protection of Ceres and Proserpine, for in Byrsa 
 there was a temple with priests consecrated to these god- 
 desses in expiation of the horrors formerly committed at 
 the siege of Syracuse. The Syssitia, alleging their right to 
 waifs and strays, claimed the youngest in order to sell 
 
SALAMMBO 359 
 
 them ; and some fair I<acedasmonian women were taken by 
 New Carthaginians in marriage. 
 
 A few persisted in following the armies. They ran on 
 the flank of the syntagmata by the side of the captains. 
 They called to their husbands, pulled them by the cloak, 
 cursed them as they beat their breasts, and held out their 
 little naked and weeping children at arm's length. The 
 sight of them was unmanning the Barbarians ; they were 
 an embarrassment and a peril. Several times they were re- 
 pulsed, but they came back again ; Matho made the horse- 
 men belonging to Narr' Havas charge them with the point 
 of the lance ; and on some Balearians shouting out to him 
 that they must have women, he replied : " / have none ! " 
 
 Just now he was invaded by the Genius of Moloch. In 
 spite of the rebellion of his conscience, he performed terrible 
 deeds, imagining that he was thus obeying the voice of a 
 god. When he could not ravage the fields, Matho would 
 cast stones into them to render them sterile. 
 
 He urged Autaritus and Spendius with repeated messages 
 to make haste. But the Suilet's operations were incompre- 
 hensible. He encamped at Eidous, Monchar, and Tehent 
 successively ; some scouts believed that they saw him in the 
 neighborhood of Ischiil, near the frontiers of Narr' Havas, 
 and it was reported that he had crossed the river a-bove 
 Tebourba as though to return to Carthage. Scarcely was 
 he in one place when he removed to another. The routes 
 that he followed always remained unknown. The SufFet 
 preserved his advantages without offering battle, and while 
 pursued by the Barbarians seemed to be leading them. 
 
 These marches and counter marches were still more fa- 
 tiguing to the Carthaginians; and Hamilcar's forces, receiv- 
 ing no reinforcements, diminished from day to day. The 
 country people were now more backward in bringing him 
 in provisions. In every direction he encountered taciturn 
 hesitation and hatred ; and in spite of his entreaties to the 
 Great Council no succor came from Carthage. 
 
 It was said perhaps it was believed, that he had need of 
 none. It was a trick, or his complaints were unnecessary ; 
 and Hanno's partisans, in order to do him an ill turn, ex- 
 aggerated the importance of his victory. The troops which 
 
36o FLAUBERT 
 
 he commanded he was welcome to ; but they were not going 
 to supply all his demands continually in that way. The 
 war was quite burdensome enough ; it had cost too much, 
 and from pride the patricians belonging to his faction sup- 
 ported him but slackly. 
 
 Then Hamilcar, despairing of the Republic, took by force 
 from the tribes all that he wanted for the war — grain, 
 oil, wood, cattle, and men. But the inhabitants were not 
 long in taking to flight. The villages passed through were 
 empty, and the cabins were ransacked without anything 
 being discerned in them. The Punic army was soon en- 
 compassed by a terrible solitude. 
 
 The Carthaginians, who were furious, began to sack the 
 provinces ; they filled up the cisterns and fired the houses. 
 The sparks, being carried by the wind, were scattered far 
 off, and whole forests were on fire on the mountains ; they 
 bordered the valleys with a crown of flames, and it was 
 often necessary to wait in order to pass beyond them. 
 Then the soldiers resumed their march over the warm ashes 
 in the full glare of the sun. 
 
 Sometimes they would see what looked like the eyes of 
 a tiger cat gleaming in a bush by the side of the road. 
 This was a Barbarian crouching upon his heels, and 
 smeared with dust, that he might not be distinguished 
 from the color of the foliage ; or perhaps when passing 
 along a ravine those on the wings would suddenly hear the 
 rolling of stones, and raising their eyes would perceive a 
 bare-footed man bounding along through the opening of the 
 gorge. 
 
 Meanwhile, Utica and Hippo-Zarytus were free since the 
 Mercenaries were no longer besieging them. Hamilcar com- 
 manded them to come to his assistance. But not caring to 
 compromise themselves, they answered him with vague 
 words, with compliments, and excuses. 
 
 He went up again abruptly into the North, determined to 
 open up one of the Tyrian towns, though he were obliged 
 to lay siege to it. He required a station on the coast, so 
 as to be able to draw supplies and men from the islands 
 or from Cyrene, and he coveted the harbor of Utica as 
 being the nearest to Carthage. 
 
SALAMMBO 361 
 
 The Suffet therefore left Zouitin and turned the lake 
 of Hippo-Zarytus with circumspection. But he was soon 
 obliged to lengthen out his regiments into columns in order 
 to climb the mountain which separates the two valleys. 
 They were descending at sunset into its hollow, funnel- 
 shaped summit, when they perceived on the level of the 
 ground before them bronze she-wolves which seemed to be 
 running across the grass. 
 
 Suddenly large plumes arose and a terrible song burst 
 forth, accompanied by the rhythm of flutes. It was the 
 army under Spendius; for some Campanians and Greeks, 
 in their execration of Carthage, had assumed the ensigns 
 of Rome. At the same time long pikes, shields of 
 leopard's skin, linen cuirasses, and naked shoulders were 
 seen on the left. These were the Iberians under Matho, 
 the l/usitanians, Balearians, and Gsetulians; the horses of 
 Narr' Havas were heard to neigh; they spread around the 
 hill ; then came the loose rabble commanded by Autaritus 
 — Gauls, lyibyans, and Nomads ; while the Katers of Un- 
 cleanness might be recognized among them by the fish 
 bones which they wore in their hair. 
 
 Thus the Barbarians, having contrived their marches 
 with exactness, had come together again. But themselves 
 surprised they remained motionless for some minutes in 
 consultation. 
 
 The Suflfet had collected his men into an orbicular mass, 
 in such a way as to offer an equal resistance in every di- 
 rection. The infantry were surrounded by their tall, pointed 
 shields fixed close to one another in the turf. The Clina- 
 barians were outside and the elephants at intervals further 
 off. The Mercenaries were worn out with fatigue ; it was 
 better to wait till next day ; and the Barbarians, feeling 
 sure of their victory, occupied themselves the whole night 
 in eating. 
 
 They had lit large bright fires, which, while dazzling 
 themselves, left the Punic army below them in the shade. 
 Hamilcar caused a trench fifteen feet broad and ten cubits 
 deep to be dug in Roman fashion round his camp, and the 
 earth thrown out to be raised on the inside into a parapet, 
 on which sharp interlacing stakes were planted ; and at 
 
362 FLAUBERT 
 
 sunrise the Mercenaries were amazed to perceive all the 
 Carthaginians thus entrenched as though in a fortress. 
 
 They could recognize Hamilcar in the midst of the tents 
 walking about and giving orders. His person was clad in 
 a brown cuirass cut in little scales ; he was followed by his 
 horse, and stopped from time to time to point out some- 
 thing with his right arm outstretched. 
 
 Then more than one recalled similar mornings when, 
 amid the din of clarions, he passed slowly before them, and 
 his looks strengthened them like cups of wine. A kind of 
 emotion overcame them. Those, on the contrary, who were 
 not acquainted with Hamilcar, were mad with joy at hav- 
 ing caught him. 
 
 Nevertheless, if all attacked at once they would do one 
 another mutual injury in the insufficiency of space. The 
 Numidians might dash through ; but the Clinabarians, who 
 were protected by cuirasses, would crush them. And then 
 how were the palisades to be crossed ? As to the elephants 
 they were not sufficiently well trained. 
 
 " You are all cowards ! " exclaimed Matho. 
 
 And with the best among them he rushed against the 
 entrenchment. They were repulsed by a volley of stones ; 
 for the Suffet had taken their abandoned catapults on the 
 bridge. 
 
 This want of success produced an abrupt change in the 
 fickle minds of the Barbarians. Their extreme bravery dis- 
 appeared ; they wished to conquer, but with the smallest 
 possible risk. According to Spendius they ought to care- 
 fully maintain the position that they held, and starve out 
 the Punic army. But the Cathaginians began to dig wells, 
 and as there were mountains surrounding the hill, they dis- 
 covered water. 
 
 From the summit of their palisade they launched arrows, 
 earth, dung, and pebbles which they gathered from the 
 ground, while the six catapults rolled incessantly through- 
 out the length of the terrace. 
 
 But the springs would dry up of themselves; the provi- 
 sions would be exhausted, and the catapults worn out ; the 
 Mercenaries, who were ten times as numerous, would 
 triumph in the end. Suffet devised negotiations so as to 
 
SALAMMBO 363 
 
 gaia time, and one morning the Barbarians found a sheep's 
 skin covered with writing within their lines. He justified 
 himself for his victory : the Ancients had forced him into 
 the war, and to show them that he was keeping his word, 
 he offered them the pillaging of Utica or Hippo-Zarytus at 
 their choice ; in conclusion, Hamilcar declared that he did 
 not fear them because he had won over some traitors, and 
 thanks to them would easily manage the rest. 
 
 The Barbarians were disturbed : this proposal of immedi- 
 ate booty made them consider ; they were apprehensive of 
 treachery, not suspecting a snare in the Suffet's boasting, 
 and they began to look upon one another with mistrust. 
 Words and steps were watched ; terrors awaked them in the 
 night. Many forsook their companions and chose their 
 army as fancy dictated, and the Gauls with Autaritus went 
 and joined themselves with the men of Cisalpine Gaul, 
 whose language they understood. 
 
 The four chiefs met together every evening in Matho's 
 tent, and squatting round a shield, attentively moved back- 
 ward and forward the little wooden figures invented by 
 Pyrrhus for the representation of manoeuvers. Spendius 
 would demonstrate Hamilcar's resources, and with oaths by 
 all the gods entreat that the opportunity should not be 
 wasted. Matho would walk about angry and gesticulating. 
 The war against Carthage was his own personal afiair ; he 
 was indignant that the others should interfere in it with- 
 out being willing to obey him. Autaritus would divine his 
 speech from his countenance and applaud. Narr' Havas 
 would elevate his chin to mark his disdain ; there was not 
 a measure that he did not consider fatal ; and he had 
 ceased to smile. Sighs would escape him as though he 
 were thrusting back sorrow for an impossible dream, des- 
 pair for an abortive enterprise. 
 
 "While the Barbarians deliberated in uncertainty, the Suf- 
 fet increased his defenses ; he had a second trench dug 
 within the palisades, a second wall raised, and wooden 
 towers constructed at the corners ; and his slaves went as 
 far as the middle of the outposts to drive caltrops into the 
 ground. But the elephants, whose allowances were les- 
 sened, struggled in their shackles. To economize the grass 
 
364 FLAUBERT 
 
 he ordered the Clinabarians to kill the least strong among 
 the stallions. A few refused to do so and he had them 
 decapitated. The horses were eaten. The recollection of 
 this fresh meat was a source of great sadness to them in 
 the days that followed. 
 
 From the bottom of the amphitheatre in which they were 
 confined they could see the four bustling camps of the 
 Barbarians all around them on the heights. Women moved 
 about with leathern bottles on their heads, goats strayed 
 bleating beneath the piles of pikes ; sentries were being re- 
 lieved, and eating was going on around tripods. In fact, 
 the tribes furnished them abundantly with provisions, and 
 they did not themselves suspect how much their inaction 
 alarmed the Punic army. 
 
 On the second day the Carthaginians had remarked a 
 troop of three hundred men apart from the rest in the 
 camp of the Nomads. These were the Rich who had been 
 kept prisoners since the beginning of the war. Some I,ib- 
 yans ranged them along the edge of the trench, took their 
 station behind them, and hurled javelins, making them- 
 selves a rampart of their bodies. The wretched creatures 
 could scarcely be recognized, so completely were their faces 
 covered with vermin and filth. Their hair had been 
 plucked out in places, leaving bare the ulcers on their 
 heads, and they were so lean and hideous that they were 
 like mummies in tattered shrouds. A few trembled and 
 sobbed with a stupid look ; the rest cried out to their 
 friends to fire upon the Barbarians. There was one who 
 remained quite motionless with face cast down, and with- 
 out speaking ; his long white beard fell to his chain- 
 covered hands; and the Carthaginians, feeling as it were 
 the downfall of the Republic in the bottom of their hearts, 
 recognized Cisco. Although the place was a dangerous 
 one they pressed forward to see him. On his head had 
 been placed a grotesque tiara of hippopotamus leather in- 
 crusted with pebbles. It was Autaritus's idea ; but it was 
 displeasing to Matho. 
 
 Hamilcar in exasperation, and resolved to cut his way 
 through in one way or another, had the palisades opened; 
 and the Carthaginians went at a furious rate half way up 
 
SALAMMBO 365 
 
 the hill or three hundred paces. Such a flood of Barba- 
 rians descended upon them that they were driven back 
 to their lines. One of the guards of the lycgion who 
 had remained outside was stumbling among the stones. 
 Zarxas ran up to him, knocked him down, and plunged a 
 dagger into his throat ; he drew it out, threw himself upon 
 the wound — and gluing his lips to it with mutterings of 
 joy and startings which shook him to the heels, pumped 
 up the blood by breastfuls ; then he quietly sat down upon 
 the corpse, raised his face with his neck thrown back the 
 better to breathe in the air, like a hind that ,has just 
 drunk at a mountain stream, and in a shrill voice be- 
 gan to sing a Balearic song, a vague melody full of 
 prolonged modulations, with interruptions and alternations 
 like echos answering one auother in the mounains ; he 
 called upon his dead brothers and invited them to a feast 
 — then he let his hands fall between his legs, slowly bent 
 his head, and wept. This atrocious occurrence horrified the 
 Barbarians, especially the Greeks. 
 
 From that time forth the Carthaginians did not attempt 
 to make any sally ; and they had no thought of sur- 
 render, certain as they were that they would perish in 
 tortures. 
 
 Nevertheless the provisions, in spite of Hamilcar's care- 
 fulness, diminished frightfully. There was not left per man 
 more than ten k'hommers of wheat, three bins of millet, 
 and twelve betzas of dried fruit. No more meat, no more 
 oil, no more salt food, and not a grain of barley for the 
 horses, which might be seen stretching down their wasted 
 necks fseeking in the dust for blades of trampled straw. 
 Often the sentries on vedette upon the terrace would see 
 in the moonlight a dog belonging to the Barbarians coming 
 to prowl beneath the entrenchment among the heaps of 
 filth ; it would be knocked down with a stone, and then, 
 after a descent had been effected along the palisades by 
 means of the straps of a shield, it would be eaten without 
 a word. Sometimes horrible barkings would be heard and 
 the man would not come up again. Three phalangites, in 
 the fourth dilochia of the twelfth syntagma, killed one 
 another with knives in a dispute about a rat. 
 
366 FLAUBERT 
 
 All regretted their families, and their houses; the poor 
 their hive-shaped huts, with the shells on the threshold and 
 the hanging net, and the patricians their large halls filled 
 with bluish shadows, where at the most indolent hour of 
 the day, they used to rest listening to the vague noise of 
 the streets mingled with the rustling of the leaves as they 
 stirred in their gardens — to go deeper into the thought of 
 this, and to enjoy it more, they would half close their eye- 
 lids, only to be roused by the shock of a wound. Every 
 minute there was some engagement, some fresh alarm ; the 
 towers were burning, the Eaters of Uncleanness were leap- 
 ing across the palisades ; their hands would be struck off 
 with axes ; others would hasten up ; an iron hail would fall 
 upon the tents. Galleries of rushen hurdles were raised as 
 a protection against the projectiles. The Carthaginians shut 
 themselves up within them and stirred out no more. 
 
 Every day the sun coming over the hill, used after the 
 early hours, to forsake the bottom of the gorge and leave 
 them in the shade. The gray slopes of the ground, cov- 
 ered with flints spotted with scanty lichen, ascended in front 
 and in the rear, and above their summits stretched the sky 
 in its perpetual purity, smoother and colder to the eye than 
 a metal cupola. Hamilcar was so indignant with Carthage 
 that he felt inclined to throw himself among the Barba- 
 rians and lead them against her. Moreover, the porters, sut- 
 lers, and slaves were beginning to murmur, while neither 
 people nor Great Council, or any one sent as much as a 
 hope. The situation was intolerable, especially owing to the 
 thought that it would become worse. 
 
 At the news of tbe disaster Carthage had leaped, as it 
 were, with anger and hate ; the Suffet would have been 
 less execrated if he had allowed himself to be conquered 
 from the first. 
 
 But time and money were lacking for the hire of other 
 Mercenaries. As to a levy of soldiers in the town, how 
 were they to be equipped? Hamilcar had taken all the 
 arms ! and then who was to command them ? The best 
 captains were down yonder with him ! Meanwhile, some 
 men despatched by the Suffet arrived in the streets with 
 shouts. 
 
SALAMMBO 367 
 
 The Great Council were roused by them, and contrived 
 to make them disappear. 
 
 It was an unnecessary precaution ; every one accused 
 Barca of having behaved with slackness. He ought to have 
 annihilated the Mercenaries after his victory. Why had he 
 ravaged the tribes? The sacrifices already imposed had 
 been heavy enough ! and the patricians deplored their con- 
 tributions of fourteen shekels, and the Syssitia their two 
 hundred and twenty-three thousand gold kikars ; those who 
 had given nothing lamented like the rest. The populace 
 was jealous of the New Carthaginians, to whom he had 
 promised full rights of citizenship ; and even the lyigurians, 
 who had fought with such intrepidity, were confounded 
 with the Barbarians and cursed like them; their race be- 
 came a crime, the proof of complicity. The traders on the 
 threshold of their shops, the workmen passing plumb-line 
 in hand, the vendors of pickle rinsing their baskets, the 
 attendants in the vapor baths and the retailers of hot drinks 
 all discussed the operations of the campaign. They would 
 trace battle-plans with their fingers in the dust, and there 
 was not a sorry rascal to be found who could not have cor- 
 rected Hamilcar's mistakes. 
 
 It was a punishment, said the priests, for his long- 
 continued impiety. He had offered no holocausts ; he had 
 not purified his troops ; he had even refused to take augurs 
 with him ; and the scandal of sacrilege strengthened the 
 violence of restrained hate, and the rage of betrayed hopes. 
 People recalled the Sicilian disasters, and all the burden of 
 his pride that they had borne for so long ! The colleges of 
 the pontiffs could not forgive him for having seized their 
 treasure, and they demanded a pledge from the Great Coun- 
 cil to crucify him should he ever return. 
 
 The heats of the month of Eloul, which were excessive 
 in that year, were another calamity. Sickening smells rose 
 from the borders of the lake, and were wafted through 
 the air together with the fumes of the aromatics that eddied 
 at the corners of the streets. The sounds of hymns were 
 constantly heard. Crowds of people occupied the staircases 
 of the temples ; all the walls were covered with black veils ; 
 tapers burned on the brows of the Pataec gods, and the 
 
368 FLAUBERT 
 
 blood of camels slain for sacrifice ran along tlie flights of 
 stairs forming red cascades upon the steps. Carthage was 
 agitated with funereal delirium. From the depths of the 
 narrowest lanes, and the ^blackest dens, there issued pale 
 faces, men with viper-like profiles and grinding their teeth. 
 The houses were filled with the women's piercing shrieks, 
 which, escaping through the gratings, caused those who 
 stood talking in the squares to turn round. Sometimes it 
 was thought that the Barbarians were arriving ; they had 
 been seen behind the mountain of the Hot Springs ; they 
 were encamped at Tunis ; and the voices would multiply 
 and swell, and be blended into one single clamor. Then 
 universal silence would reign, some remaining where they 
 had climbed upon the frontals of the buildings, screening 
 their eyes with their open hand, while the rest lay flat on 
 their faces at the foot of the ramparts straining their ears. 
 When their terror had passed off their anger would begin 
 again. But the conviction of their own impotence would 
 soon sink them into the same sadness as before. 
 
 It increased every evening when all ascended the ter- 
 races, and bowing down nine times uttered a loud cry in 
 salutation of the Sun as it sank slowly behind the lyagoon, 
 and then suddenly disappeared among the mountains in the 
 direction of the Barbarians. 
 
 They were waiting for the thrice holy festival when, 
 from the summit of a funeral pile, an eagle flew heaven- 
 ward as a symbol of the resurrection of the year, and a 
 message from the people to their Baal ; they regarded it as 
 a sort of union, a method connecting themselves with the 
 might of the Sun. Moreover, filled as they now were with 
 hatred, they turned frankly toward Homicidal Moloch, and 
 all forsook Tanith. In fact, Rabetna, having lost her veil, 
 was as though she had been despoiled of part of her virtue. 
 She denied the beneficence of her waters, she had aban- 
 doned Carthage ; she was a deserter, an enemy. Some 
 threw stones at her to insult her. But many pitied her 
 while they inveighed against her ; she was still beloved, and 
 perhaps more deeply than she had been. 
 
 All their misfortunes came, therefore, from the loss of 
 the zaiimph. Salammbo had indirectly participated in it ; 
 
SALAMMBO 369 
 
 she was included in the same ill will ; she must be pun- 
 ished. A vague idea of immolation spread among the peo- 
 ple. To appease the Baalim it was without doubt necessary 
 to offer them something of incalculable worth, a being 
 handsome, young, virgin, of old family, descendant of the 
 gods, a human star. Every day the gardens of Megara 
 were invaded by strange men ; the slaves, trembling on 
 their own account, dared not resist them. Nevertheless, 
 they did not pass beyond the galley staircase. They re- 
 mained below with their eyes raised to the highest terrace ; 
 they were waiting for Salammbo, and they would cry out 
 for hours against her like dogs baying at the moon. 
 
 THE SERPENT 
 
 THSSE clamorings of the populace did not alarm Hamil- 
 car's daughter. 
 
 She was disturbed by loftier anxieties: her great 
 serpent, the black Python, was drooping; and, in the eyes 
 of the Carthaginians, the serpent was at once a national 
 and a private fetish. It was believed to be the offspring 
 of the dust of the earth, since it emerges from its depths 
 and has no need of feet to traverse it; its mode of pro- 
 gression called to mind the undulations of rivers, its tem- 
 perature the ancient viscous and fecund darkness, and the 
 orbit which it describes when biting its tail the harmony of 
 the planets, and the intelligence of Eschmoun. 
 
 Salammbo's serpent had several times already refused the 
 four live sparrows which were offered to it at the full 
 moon and at every new moon. Its handsome skin, 
 covered like the firmament with golden spots upon a per- 
 fectly black ground, was now yellow, relaxed, wrinkled, 
 and too large for its body. A cottony moldiness extended 
 round its head ; and in the corners of its eyelids might be 
 seen little red specks which appeared to move. Salammbo 
 would approach its silver- wire basket from time to time, 
 and would draw aside the purple curtains, the lotus leaves, 
 and the bird's down ; but it was continually rolled up 
 24 
 
370 FLAUBERT 
 
 upon itself, more motioBless than a withered bindweed ; 
 and from looking at it she at last came to feel a kind of 
 spiral within her heart, another serpent, as it were, mount- 
 ing up to her throat by degrees and strangling her. 
 
 She was in despair at having seen the zaimph, and yet 
 she felt a sort of joy, an intimate pride at having done so. 
 A mystery shrank within the splendor of its folds; it was 
 the cloud that enveloped the gods, and the secret of the 
 universal existence, and Salammbo, horror-stricken at her- 
 self, regretted that she had not raised it. 
 
 She was almost always crouching at the back of her 
 apartment, holding her bended left leg in her hands, her 
 mouth half open, her chin sunk, her eye fixed. She recol- 
 lected her father's face with terror ; she wished to go 
 away into the mountains of Phoenicia, on a pilgrimage to 
 the temple of Aphaka, where Tanith descended in the form 
 of a star ; all kinds of imaginings attracted her and terrified 
 her ; moreover, a solitude which every day became greater 
 encompassed her. She did not even know what Hamilcar 
 was about. 
 
 Wearied at last with her thoughts she would rise, and 
 trailing along her little sandals whose soles clacked upon 
 her heels at every step, she would walk at random through 
 the large silent room. The amethysts and topazes of the 
 ceiling made luminous spots quiver here and there, and 
 Salammbo as she walked would turn her head a little to 
 see them. She would go and take the hanging amphoras 
 by the neck ; she would cool her bosom beneath the broad 
 fans, or perhaps amuse herself by burning cinnamomum in 
 hollow pearls. At sunset Taanach would draw back the 
 black felt lozenges that closed the openings in the wall ; then 
 her doves, rubbed with musk like the doves of Tanith, 
 suddenly entered, and their pink feet glided over the glass 
 pavement, amid the grains of barley which she threw to 
 them in handfuls like a sower in a field. But on a sudden 
 she would burst into sobs and lie stretched on the large 
 bed of ox -leather straps without moving, repeating a word 
 that was ever the same, with open eyes, pale as one dead, in- 
 sensible, cold ; and yet she could hear the cries of the apes 
 in the tufts of the palm trees, with the continuous grind- 
 
SALAMMBO 371 
 
 ing of the great wheel which brought a flow of pure water 
 through the stories into the porphyry centre-basin. 
 
 Sometimes for several days she would refuse to eat. She 
 could see in a dream troubled stars wandering beneath her 
 feet. She would call Schahabarim, and when he came she 
 had nothing to say to him. 
 
 She could not live without the relief of his presence. 
 But she rebelled inwardly against this domination ; her 
 feeling toward the priest was at once of terror, jealousy, 
 hatred, and a species of love, in gratitude for the singular 
 voluptuousness which she experienced by his side. 
 
 He had recognized the influence of Rabbet, being skillful 
 to discern the gods who sent diseases ; and to cure 
 Salammbo he had her apartment watered with lotions of 
 vervain, and maiden hair ; she ate mandrakes every morn- 
 ing ; she slept with her head on a cushion filled with 
 aromatics blended by the pontifEs; he had even employed 
 baaras, a fiery-colored root which drives back fatal geniuses 
 into the North ; lastly, turning toward the polar star, he 
 murmured thrice the mysterious name of Tanith ; but 
 Salammbo still suffered and her anguish deepened. 
 
 No one in Carthage was so learned as he. In his youth 
 he had studied at the College of the Mogbeds, at Borsippa, 
 near Babylon ; had then visited Samothrace, Ephesus, 
 Pessinus, Thessaly, Judaea, and the temples of the Nabath^, 
 which are lost in the sands ; and had traveled on foot along 
 the banks of the Nile from the cataracts to the sea. 
 Shaking torches with veil-covered face he had cast a black 
 cock upon a fire of sandarach before the breast of the 
 Sphinx, the Father of Terror. He had descended into 
 the caverns of Proserpine ; he had seen the five hundred 
 pillars of the labyrinth of I^emnos revolve, and the candel- 
 abrum of Tarentum, which bore as many sconces on its 
 shaft as there are days in the year, shine in its splendor; 
 at times he received Greeks by night in order to question 
 them. The constitution of the world disquieted him no less 
 than the nature of the gods; he had observed the equi- 
 noxes with the armils placed in the portico of Alexandria, 
 and accompanied the bematists of Evergetes, who measure 
 the sky by calculating the number of their steps, as far as 
 
372 FLAUBERT 
 
 Cyrene ; so that there was now growing in his thoughts a 
 religion of his own, with no distinct formula, and on that 
 very account full of infatuation and fervor. He no longer 
 believed that the earth was formed like a fir-cone; he 
 believed it to be round, and eternally falling through im- 
 mensity with such prodigious speed that its fall was not 
 perceived. 
 
 From the position of the sun above the moon he inferred 
 the predominance of Baal, of whom the planet itself is but 
 the reflection and figure ; moreover, all that he saw in ter- 
 restrial things compelled him to recognize the male exter- 
 minating principle as supreme. And then he secretly 
 charged Rabbet with the misfortune of his life. Was it not 
 for her that the grand-pontiff had once advanced amid the 
 tumult of cymbals, and with a patera of boiling water, 
 taken from him his future virility. And he followed with 
 a melancholy gaze the men who were disappearing with the 
 priestesses in the depths of the turpentine trees. 
 
 His days were spent in inspecting the censers, the gold 
 vases, the tongs, the rakes for the ashes of the altar, and 
 all the robes of the statues down to the bronze bodkin that 
 served to curl the hair of an old Tanith in the third aedi- 
 cule near the emerald vine. At the same hours he would 
 raise the great hangings of the same swinging doors ; would 
 remain with his arms outspread in the same attitude ; or 
 prayed prostrate on the same flagstones, while around him 
 a people of priests moved barefooted through the passages 
 filled with an eternal twilight. 
 
 But Salammbo was in the barrenness of his life like a 
 flower in the cleft of a sepulchre. Nevertheless he was 
 hard upon her, and spared her neither penances nor bitter 
 words. His condition established, as it were, the equality 
 of a common sex between them, and he was less angry 
 with the young girl for his inability to possess her than 
 for finding her so beautiful, and above all so pure. Often 
 he saw that she grew weary in following his thought. 
 Then he would turn away sadder than before ; he would 
 feel himself more forsaken, more empty, more alone. 
 
 Strange words escaped him sometimes, which passed be- 
 fore Salammbo like broad lightnings illuminating the 
 
SALAMMBO 373 
 
 abysses. This would be at night on the terrace when, both 
 alone, they gazed upon the stars, and Carthage spread be- 
 low under their feet, with the gulf and the open sea dimly 
 lost in the color of the darkness. 
 
 He would set forth to her the theory of the souls that 
 descend upon the earth, following the same route as the 
 sun through the signs of the zodiac. With outstretched 
 arm he showed the gate of human generation in the 
 Ram, and that of the return to the gods in Capricorn; 
 and Salammbo strove to see them, for she took these con- 
 ceptions for realities ; she accepted pure symbols and even 
 manners of speech as being true in themselves, a distinc- 
 tion not always very clear even to the priest. 
 
 "The souls of the dead," said he, "resolve themselves 
 into the moon, as their bodies do into the earth. Their 
 tears compose its humidity ; 'tis a dark abode full of mire, 
 and wreck, and tempest." 
 
 She asked what would become of her there. 
 
 "At first you will languish as light as a vapor hovering 
 upon the waves ; and after more lengthened ordeals and 
 agonies, you will pass into the forces of the sun, the very 
 source of Intelligence ! " 
 
 He did not speak, however, of Rabbet. Salammbo im- 
 agined that it was through shame for his vanquished god- 
 dess, and calling her by a common name which designated 
 the moon she launched into blessings upon the soft and 
 fertile planet. At last he exclaimed : — 
 
 " No ! no ! she draws all her fecundity from the other ! 
 Do you not see her hovering about him like an amorous 
 woman running after a man in a field ? " And he exalted 
 the virtue of light unceasingly. 
 
 Far from depressing her mystic desires, he sought, on the 
 contrary, to excite them, and he even seemed to take joy 
 in grieving her by the revelation of a pitiless doctrine. In 
 spite of the pains of her love Salammbo threw herself upon 
 it with transport. 
 
 But the more that Schahabarim felt himself in doubt 
 about Tanith, the more he wished to believe in her. At 
 the bottom of his soul he was arrested by remorse. He 
 needed some proof, some manifestation from the gods, and 
 
374 FLAUBERT 
 
 in the hope of obtaining it the priest devised an enter- 
 prise which might save at once his country and his belief. 
 Thenceforward he set himself to deplore before Salammbo 
 the sacrilege and the misfortunes which resulted from it 
 even in the regions of the sky. Then he suddenly an- 
 nounced the peril of the Suffet, who was assailed by three 
 armies under the command of Matho — for on account of 
 the veil Matho was, in the eyes of the Carthaginians, the 
 king as it were of the Barbarians — and he added that the 
 safety of the Republic and of her father depended upon her 
 alone. 
 
 " Upon me ! " she exclaimed. " How can I — ? " 
 But the priest with a smile of disdain : — 
 * You will never consent ! " 
 
 She entreated him. At last Schahabarim said to her : — 
 " You must go to the Barbarians and recover the zaimph ! " 
 She sank down upon the ebony stool, and remained with 
 her arms stretched out between her knees and a shivering 
 in all her limbs, like a victim at the altar's foot awaiting 
 the blow of the club. Her temples were ringing, she could 
 see fiery circles revolving, and in her stupor she had lost 
 the understanding of all things save one, that she was cer- 
 tainly going to die soon. 
 
 But if Rabetna triumphed, if the zaimph were restored 
 and Carthage delivered, what mattered a woman's life ! 
 thought Schahabarim. Moreover, she would perhaps obtain 
 the veil and not perish. 
 
 He stayed away for three days ; on the evening of the 
 fourth she sent for him. 
 
 The better to inflame her heart he reported to her all the 
 invectives howled against Hamilcar in open council ; he told 
 her that she had erred, that she owed reparation for her 
 crime, and that Rabetna commanded the sacrifice. 
 
 A great uproar came frequently across the Mappalian dis- 
 trict to Megara. Schahabarim and Salammbo went out 
 quickly, and gazed from the top of the galley staircase. 
 
 There were people in the square of Khamon shouting for 
 arms. The Ancients would not provide them, esteeming 
 such an effort useless; others who had set out without a 
 general had been massacred. At last they were permitted 
 
SALAMMBO 375 
 
 to depart, and as a sort of homage to Moloch or from a 
 vague need of destruction, they tore up tall cypress trees 
 in the woods of the temples, and having kindled them at 
 the torches of the Kabiri, were carrying them through the 
 streets singing. These monstrous flames advanced swaying 
 gently ; they transmitted fires to the glass balls on the 
 crests of the temples, to the ornaments of the colossuses 
 and the beaks of the ships, passed beyond the terraces and 
 formed suns, as it were, which rolled through the town. 
 They descended the Acropolis. The gate of Malqua opened. 
 
 "Are you ready?* exclaimed Schahabarim, "or have you 
 asked them to tell your father that you abandoned him ? " 
 She hid her face in her veils, and the great lights retired, 
 sinking gradually the while to the edge of the waves. 
 
 An indeterminate dread restrained her ; she was afraid of 
 Moloch and of Matho. This man, with his giant stature 
 who was master of the zaimph, ruled Rabetna as much as 
 did Baal, and seemed to her to be surrounded by the same 
 fulgurations ; and then the souls of the gods sometimes 
 visited the bodies of men. Did not Schahabarim in speak- 
 ing of him say that she was to vanquish Moloch? They 
 were mingled with each other ; she confused them together ; 
 both of them were pursuing her. 
 
 She wished to learn the future, and approached the ser- 
 pent, for auguries were drawn from the attitudes of serpents. 
 But the basket was empty ; Salammbo was disturbed. 
 
 She found him with his tail rolled round one of the sil- 
 ver balustrades beside the hanging bed, which he was 
 rubbing in order to free himself from his old yellowish 
 skin, while his body stretched forth gleaming and clear 
 like a sword half out of the sheath. 
 
 Then on the days following, in proportion as she allowed 
 herself to be convinced, and was more disposed to succor 
 Tanith, the python recovered and grew ; he seemed to be 
 reviving. 
 
 The certainty that Schahabarim was giving expression 
 to the will of the gods then became established in her 
 conscience. One morning she awoke resolved, and she 
 asked what was necessarj-^ to make Matho restore the veil. 
 
 "To claim it," said Schahabarim. 
 
376 FLAUBERT 
 
 "But if he refuses?" she rejoined. 
 
 The priest scanned her fixedly with a smile such as she 
 had never seen. 
 
 " Yes, what is to be done ? * repeated Salammbo. 
 
 He rolled between his fingers the extremities of the bands 
 which fell from his tiara upon his shoulders, standing 
 motionless with eyes cast down. At last seeing that she 
 did not understand : — 
 
 "You will be alone with him.* 
 
 "Well?" she said. 
 
 " Alone in his tent. " 
 
 "What then?" 
 
 Schahabarim bit his lips. He sought for some phrase, 
 some circumlocution. 
 
 "If you are to die, that will be later on," he said ; "later 
 on 1 fear nothing ! and whatever he may undertake to do, 
 do not call out ! do not be frightened ! You will be hum- 
 ble, you understand, and submissive to his desire, which is 
 ordained of heaven ! " 
 
 " But the veil ? " 
 
 "The gods will take thought for it," replied Schaha- 
 barim. 
 
 " Suppose you were to accompany me, O father ? " she 
 added. 
 
 « No ! " 
 
 He made her kneel down, and keeping his left hand 
 raised and his right extended, he swore on her behalf to 
 bring back the mantle of Tanith into Carthage. With ter- 
 rible imprecations she devoted herself to the gods, and 
 each time that Schahabarim pronounced a word she falter- 
 ingly repeated it. 
 
 He indicated to her all the purifications and fastings 
 that she was to observe, and how she was to reach Matho. 
 Moreover, a man acquainted with the routes would accom- 
 pany her. 
 
 She felt as though she had been set free. She thought 
 only of the happiness of seeing the zaimph again, and she 
 now blessed Schahabarim for his exhortations. 
 
 It was the period at which the doves of Carthage mi- 
 grated to Sicily to the mountain of Eryx and the temple 
 
SALAMMBO 377 
 
 of Venus. For several days before their departure they 
 sought out and called to one another so as to collect to- 
 gether ; at last one evening they flew away ; the wind blew 
 them along, and the big white cloud glided across the sky 
 high above the sea. 
 
 The horizon was filled with color of blood. They seemed 
 to descend gradually to the waves ; then they disappeared 
 as though swallowed up, and falling of themselves into the 
 jaws of the sun. Salammbo, who watched them retiring, 
 bent her head, and then Taanach, believing that she 
 guessed her sorrow, said gently to her : — 
 
 * But they will come back, Mistress. " 
 
 «Yes! I know.» 
 
 " And you will see them again." 
 
 " Perhaps ! " she said, sighing. 
 
 She had not confided her resolve to any one ; in order 
 to carry it out with the greater discretion she sent Taanach 
 to the suburb of Kinisdo to buy all the things that she 
 required instead of requesting them from the stewards : 
 vermilion, aromatics, a linen girdle, and new garments. 
 The old slave was amazed at these preparations, without 
 daring, however, to ask any questions ; and the day, which 
 had been fixed by Schahabarim, arrived when Salammbo 
 was to set out. 
 
 About the twelfth hour she perceived, in the depths of 
 the sycamore trees, a blind old man with one hand resting 
 on the shoulder of a child, who walked before him, while 
 with the other he carried a kind of cithara of black wood 
 against his hip. The eunuchs, slaves and women had been 
 scrupulously sent away ; no one might know the mystery 
 that was preparing. 
 
 Taanach kindled four tripods filled with strobus and 
 cardamomum in the corners of the apartment ; then she 
 unfolded large Babylonian hangings, and stretched them on 
 cords all around the room, for Salammbo did not wish to 
 be seen even by the walls. The kinnor-player squatted be- 
 hind the door, and the young boy standing upright applied 
 a reed flute to his lips. In the distance the roar of the 
 streets was growing feebler, violent shadows were lengthen- 
 ing before the peristyles of the temples, and on the other 
 
378 FLAUBERT 
 
 side of the gulf the mountain bases, the fields of olive- 
 trees, and the vague yellow lands undulated indefinitely, 
 and were blended together in a bluish haze ; not a sound 
 was to be heard and an unspeakable depression weighed in 
 the air. 
 
 Salammbo crouched down upon the onyx step on the 
 edge of the basin; she raised her ample sleeves, fastening 
 them behind her shoulders, and began her ablutions in 
 methodical fashion, according to the sacred rites. 
 
 Next Taanach brought her something liquid and coagu- 
 lated in an alabaster phial ; it was the blood of a black 
 dog slaughtered by barren women on a winter's night 
 amid the rubbish of a sepulchre. She rubbed it upon her 
 ears, her heels, and the thumb of her right hand, and even 
 her nail remained somewhat red, as though she had crushed 
 a fruit. 
 
 The moon rose ; then the cithara and the flute both be- 
 gan to play together. 
 
 Salammbo unfastened her earrings, her necklace, her 
 bracelets, and her long white simar ; she unknotted the 
 band in her hair, shaking the latter for a few minutes 
 softly over her shoulders to cool herself by thus scattering 
 it. The music went on outside ; it consisted of three notes 
 ever the same, hurried and frenzied ; the strings grated, 
 the flute blew ; Taanach kept time by striking her hands ; 
 Salammbo, with a swaying of her whole body, chanted 
 prayers, and her garments fell one after another around 
 her. 
 
 The heavy tapestry trembled, and the python's head ap- 
 peared above the cord that supported it. The serpent de- 
 scended slowly like a drop of water flowing along a wall, 
 crawled among the scattered stuffs, and then glueing its 
 tail to the ground, rose perfectly erect ; and his eyes more 
 brilliant than carbuncles, darted upon Salammbo. 
 
 A horror of cold, or perhaps a feeling of shame, at first 
 made her hesitate. But she recalled Schahabarim's orders 
 and advanced ; the python turned downward, and resting 
 the centre of its body upon the nape of her neck, allowed 
 its head and tail to hang like a broken necklace with both 
 ends trailing to the ground. Salammbo rolled it around her 
 
SALAMMBO 379 
 
 sides, under her arms, and between her knees ; then taking 
 it by the jaw she brought the little triangular mouth to the 
 edge of her teeth, and half shutting her eyes, threw her- 
 self back beneath the rays of the moon. The white light 
 seemed to envelop her in a silver mist, the prints of her 
 humid steps shone upon the flag-stones, stars quivered in 
 the depth of the water ; it tightened upon her its black 
 rings that were spotted with scales of gold. Salammbo 
 panted beneath the excessive weight, her loins yielded, she 
 felt herself dying, and with the tips of its tail the serpent 
 gently beat her thigh ; then the music becoming still it fell 
 off again. 
 
 Taanach came back to her ; and after arranging two can- 
 delabra, the lights of which burned in crystal balls filled 
 with water, she tinged the inside of her hands with I<aw- 
 sonia, spread vermilion upon her cheeks, and antimony 
 along the edge of her eyelids, and lengthened her eyebrows 
 with a mixture of gum, musk, ebony, and crushed legs of 
 flies. 
 
 Salammbo, seated on a chair with ivory uprights, gave 
 herself up to the attentions of the slave. But the touch- 
 ings, the odor of the aromatics, and the fasts that she had 
 undergone, were enervating her. She became so pale that 
 Taanach stopped. 
 
 " Go on ! " said Salammbo and bearing up against her- 
 self, she suddenly revived. Then she was seized with im- 
 patience ; she urged the Taanach to make haste, and the old 
 slave grumbled : — 
 
 " Well ! well ! Mistress ! Besides, you have no one wait- 
 ing for yon ! " 
 
 "Yes!" said Salammbo, "some one is waiting for me." 
 
 Taanach drew back in surprise, and in order to learn 
 more about it, said : — 
 
 "What orders do you give me, Mistress? for if you are 
 to remain away " 
 
 But Salammbo was sobbing ; the slave exclaimed : — 
 
 "You are suffering! what is the matter? Do not go 
 away ! take me ! When you were quite little and used to 
 cry, I took you to my heart and made you laugh with the 
 points of my breasts ; you have drained them, Mistress ! " 
 
38o FLAUBERT 
 
 She struck herself upon her dried-up bosom. " Now I am 
 old ! I can do nothing for you ! you no longer love me ! 
 you hide your griefs from me, you despise the nurse ! " 
 And tears of tenderness and vexation flowed down her 
 cheeks in the gashes of her tatooing. 
 
 "No," said Salammbo, "no, I love you ! be comforted!" 
 
 With a smile like the grimace of an old ape, Taanach 
 resumed her task. In accordance with Schahabarim's rec- 
 ommendations Salammbo had ordered the slave to make her 
 magnificent ; and she was obeying her mistress with bar- 
 baric taste full at once of refinement and ingenuity. 
 
 Over a first delicate and vinous-colored tunic she passed 
 a second embroidered with birds' feathers. Golden scales 
 clung to her hips, and from this broad girdle descended 
 her blue flowing silver-starred drawers. Next Taanach put 
 upon her a long robe made of the cloth of the country of 
 Seres, white and streaked with green lines. On the edge 
 of her shoulders she fastened a square of purple weighted 
 at the hem with grains of sandrastum ; and above all these 
 garments she placed a black mantle with a flowing train ; 
 then she gazed at her, and proud of her work could not 
 help saying : — 
 
 "You will not be more beautiful on the day of your 
 bridal ! » 
 
 " My bridal ! " repeated Salammbo ; she was musing with 
 her elbow resting upon the ivory chair. 
 
 But Taanach set up before her a copper mirror, which 
 was so broad and high that she could see herself com- 
 pletely in it. Then she rose, and with a light touch of 
 her finger raised a lock of her hair which was falling too 
 low. 
 
 Her hair was covered with gold dust, was crisped in 
 front, and hung down behind over her back in long twists 
 ending in pearls. The brightness of the candelabra height- 
 ened the paint on her cheeks, the gold on her garments, 
 and the whiteness of her skin ; around her waist, and on 
 her arms, hands, and toes, she had such a wealth of gems 
 that the mirror sent back rays upon her like a sun — and 
 Salammbo, standing by the side of Taanach, who leaned 
 over to see her, smiled amid this dazzling display. 
 
SALAMMBO 381 
 
 Then she walked to and fro embarrassed by the time that 
 was still left. 
 
 Suddenly the crow of a cock resounded. She quickly 
 pinned a long yellow veil upon her hair, passed a scarf 
 around her neck, thrust her feet into blue leather boots, 
 and said to Taanach : — 
 
 " Go and see whether there is not a man with two horses 
 beneath the myrtles." 
 
 Taanach had scarcely re-entered when she was descending 
 the galley staircase. 
 
 " Mistress ! " cried the nurse. 
 
 Salammbo turned round with one finger on her mouth as 
 a sign for discretion and immobility. 
 
 Taanach stole softly along the prows to the foot of the 
 terrace, and from a distance she could distinguish by the 
 light of the moon a gigantic shadow walking obliquely in 
 the cypress avenue to the left of Salammbo, a sign which 
 presaged death. 
 
 Taanach went up again into the chamber. She threw 
 herself upon the ground tearing her face with her nails ; 
 she plucked out her hair, and uttered piercing shrieks with 
 all her might. 
 
 It occurred to her that they might be heard ; then she 
 became silent, sobbing quite softly with her head in her 
 hands and her face on the pavement. 
 
 MOLOCH 
 
 THS Barbarians had no need of a circumvallation on the 
 side of Africa, for it was theirs. But to faciltate the 
 approach to the walls, the entrenchments bordering 
 the ditch were thrown down. Matho next divided the army 
 into great semi-circles so as to encompass Carthage the 
 better. The hoplites of the Mercenaries were placed in the 
 first rank, and behind them the slingers and horsemen ; 
 quite at the back were the baggage, chariots, and horses ; 
 and the engines bristled in front of this throng at a dis- 
 tance of three hundred paces from the towers. 
 
382 FLAUBERT 
 
 Amid the infinite variety of their nomenclature (which 
 changed several times in the course of the centuries) these 
 machines might be reduced to two systems : some acted like 
 slings, and the rest like bows. 
 
 The first, which were the catapults, were composed of a 
 square frame with two vertical uprights and a horizontal 
 bar. In its anterior portion was a cylinder, furnished with 
 cables, which held back a great beam bearing a spoon for 
 the reception of projectiles ; its base was caught in a skein 
 of twisted thread, and when the ropes were let go it sprang 
 up and struck against the bar, which, checking it with a 
 shock, multiplied its power. 
 
 The second presented a more complicated mechanism. A 
 cross-bar had its centre fixed on a little pillar, and from 
 this point of junction there branched oflE at right angles a 
 sort of channel ; two caps containing twists of horse-hair 
 stood at the extremities of the cross-bar ; two small beams 
 were fastened to them to hold the extremities of a rope 
 which was brought to the bottom of the channel upon a 
 tablet of bronze. This metal plate was released by a 
 spring, and sliding in grooves impelled the arrows. 
 
 The catapults were likewise called onagers, after the wild 
 asses which fling up stones with their feet, and the bal- 
 listas scorpions, on account of a hook which stood upon 
 the tablet, and being lowered by a blow of the fist, released 
 the spring. 
 
 Their construction required learned calculations ; the 
 wood selected had to be of the hardest substance, and their 
 gearing all of brass ; they were stretched with levers, 
 tackle-blocks, capstans or tympanums ; the direction of the 
 shooting was changed by means of strong pivots ; they 
 were moved forward on cylinders, and the most considera- 
 ble of them, which were brought piece by piece, were set 
 up in front of the enemy. 
 
 Spendius arranged three catapults opposite the three 
 principal angles ; he placed a ram before every gate, a bal- 
 lista before every tower, while carroballistas were to move 
 about in the rear. But it was inecessary to protect them 
 against the fire thrown by the besieged, and first of all to 
 fill up the trench which separated them from the walls. 
 
SALAMMBO 383 
 
 They pushed forward galleries formed of hurdles of green 
 reeds, and oaken semi-circles like enormous shields gliding 
 on three wheels ; the workers were sheltered in little huts 
 covered with raw hides and stuffed with wrack ; the cata- 
 pults and ballistas were protected by rope curtains which 
 had been steeped in vinegar to render them incombustible. 
 The women and children went to procure stones on the 
 strand, and gathered earth with their hands and brought it 
 to the soldiers. 
 
 The Carthaginians also made preparations. 
 
 Hamilcar had speedily reassured them by declaring that 
 there was enough water left in the cisterns for one hundred 
 and twenty-three days. This assertion, together with his 
 presence, and above all that of the zaimph in their midst, 
 gave them good hopes. Carthage recovered from its de- 
 jection ; those who were not of Chanaanitish origin were 
 carried away by the passion of the rest. 
 
 The slaves were armed, the arsenals were emptied, and 
 every citizen had his own post and his own employment. 
 Twelve hundred of the fugitives had survived, and the 
 Suffet made them all captains ; and carpenters, armorers, 
 blacksmiths, and goldsmiths were intrusted with the engines. 
 The Carthaginians had kept a few in spite of the condi- 
 tions of the peace with Rome. These were repaired. They 
 understood such work. 
 
 The two northern and eastern sides, being protected by 
 the sea and the gulf, remained inaccessible. On the wall 
 fronting the Barbarians they collected tree-trunks, mill- 
 stones, vases filled with sulphur, and vats filled with oil, 
 and built furnaces. Stones were heaped up on the plat- 
 forms of the towers, and the houses bordering immediately 
 on the rampart were crammed with sand in order to 
 Strengthen it and increase its thickness. 
 
 The Barbarians grew angry at the sight of these prepara- 
 tions. They wished to fight at once. The weights which 
 they put into the catapults were so extravagantly heavy 
 that the beams broke, and the attack was delayed. 
 
 At last on the thirteenth day of the month of Schabar 
 — at sunrise — a great blow was heard at the gate of Kha- 
 mon. 
 
384 FLAUBERT 
 
 Seventy-five soldiers were pulling at ropes arranged at the 
 base of a gigantic beam wbicli was suspended horizontally 
 by chains hanging from a framework, and which termina- 
 ted in a ram's head of pure brass. It had been swathed in 
 ox-hides ; it was bound at intervals with iron bracelets ; it 
 was thrice as thick as a man's body, one hundred and 
 twenty cubits long, and under the crowd of naked arms 
 pushing it forward and drawing it back, it moved to and 
 fro with a regular oscillation. 
 
 The other rams before the other gates began to be in 
 motion. Men might be seen mounting from step to step in 
 the hollow wheels of the tympanums. The pulleys and 
 caps grated, the rope curtains were lowered, and showers of 
 stones and showers of arrows burst forth simultaneously ; all 
 the scattered slingers ran up. Some approached the ram- 
 parts hiding pots of resin under their shields ; then they 
 would hurl these with all their might. This hail of bullets, 
 darts, and flames passed above the first ranks in the form 
 of a curve which fell behind the walls. But long cranes, used 
 for masting vessels, were reared on the summit of the ram- 
 parts ; and from them there descended some of those enormous 
 pincers which terminated in two semi-circles toothed on the 
 inside. They bit the rams. The soldiers clung to the 
 beam and drew it back. The Carthaginians hauled in order 
 to pull it up ; and the action was prolonged until the evening. 
 
 When the Mercenaries resumed their task on the follow- 
 ing day, the tops of the walls were completely carpeted 
 with bales of cotton, sails, and cushions ; the battlements 
 were stopped up with mats ; and a line of forks and 
 blades, fixed upon sticks, might be distinguished among 
 the cranes on the rampart. A furious resistance immedi- 
 ately began. 
 
 Trunks of trees fastened to cables fell and rose alternately 
 and battered the rams ; cramps hurled by the ballistas tore 
 away the roofs of the huts ; and streams of flints and 
 pebbles poured from the platforms of the towers. 
 
 At last the rams broke the gates of Khamon and Tagaste. 
 But the Carthaginians had piled up such an abundance of 
 materials on the inside that the leaves did not open. They 
 remained standing. 
 
SALAMMBO 385 
 
 Then they drove augers against the walls ; these were 
 applied to the joints of the blocks, so as to detach the 
 latter. The engines were better managed, the men serving 
 them were divided into squads, they were worked from 
 morning till evening without interruption, and with the 
 monotonous precision of a weaver's loom. 
 
 Spendius attended to them untiringly. It was he who 
 stretched the skins of the ballistas. In order that the twin 
 tensions might completely correspond, the ropes as they 
 were tightened were struck on the right and left alternately 
 until both sides gave out an equal sound. Spendius would 
 mount upon the timbers. He would strike the ropes softly 
 with the extremity of his foot, and strain his ears like a 
 musician tuning a lyre. Then when the beam of the catapult 
 rose, when the pillar of the ballista trembled with the shock 
 of the spring, when the stones were shooting in rays, and 
 the darts pouring in streams, he would incline his whole 
 body and fling his arms into the air as though to follow them. 
 
 The soldiers admired his skill and executed his commands. 
 In the gayety of their work they gave utterances to jests 
 on the names of their machines. Thus the plyers for seiz- 
 ing the rams were called "wolves," and the galleries were 
 covered with " vines ; '* they were lambs, or they were going 
 to gather the grapes ; and as they loaded their pieces they 
 would say to the onagers : " Come, pick well ! " and to the 
 scorpions : " Pierce them to the heart ! " These jokes, 
 which were ever the same, kept up their courage. 
 
 Nevertheless the machines did not demolish the rampart. 
 It was formed of two walls and was completely filled with 
 earth. The upper portions were beaten down, but each 
 time the besieged raised them again. Matho ordered the 
 construction of wooden towers which should be as high as 
 the towers of stone. They cast turf, stakes, pebbles, and 
 chariots with their wheels into the trench so as to fill it up 
 the more quickly; but before this was accomplished the 
 immense throng of Barbarians undulated over the plain with 
 a single movement and came beating against the foot of the 
 -walls like an overflowing sea. 
 
 They moved forward the rope ladders, straight ladders, 
 and sambucas, the latter consisting of two poles from which 
 25 
 
386 FLAUBERT 
 
 a series of bamboos terminating in a movable bridge were 
 lowered by means of tackling. They formed numerous 
 straight lines resting against the wall, and the Mercenaries 
 mounted them in files, holding their weapons in their 
 hands. Not a Carthaginian showed himself; already two- 
 thirds of the rampart had been covered. Then the battle- 
 ments opened, vomiting flames and smoke like dragon jaws; 
 the sand scattered and entered the joints of their armor; 
 the petroleum fastened on their garments ; the liquid lead 
 hopped on their helmets and made holes in their flesh ; a rain 
 of sparks splashed against their faces, and eyeless orbits seemed 
 to^weep tears as big as almonds. There were men all yellow 
 with oil, with their hair in flames. They began to run and set 
 fire to the rest. They were extinguished with mantles steeped 
 in blood, which were thrown from a distance over their faces. 
 Some who had no wounds remained motionless, stiffer than 
 stakes, their mouths open and their arms outspread. 
 
 The assault was renewed for several days in succession, the 
 Mercenaries hoping to triumph by extraordinary energy and 
 audacity. 
 
 Sometimes a man raised on the shoulders of another 
 would drive a pin between the stones, and then making use 
 of it as a step to reach further, would place a second and 
 a third ; and, protected by the edge of the battlements, 
 which stood out from the wall, they would gradually raise 
 themselves in this way; but on reaching a certain height 
 they always fell back again. The great trench was full to 
 overflowing; the wounded were massed pell-mell with the 
 dead and dying beneath the footsteps of the living. Cal- 
 cined trunks formed black spots amid opened entrails, scat- 
 tered brains, and pools of blood ; and arms and legs projecting 
 half way out of a heap, would stand straight up like props 
 in a burning vineyard. 
 
 The ladders proving insufficient the tollenos were brought 
 into requisition — instruments consisting of a long beam set 
 transversely upon another, and bearing at its extremity a quad- 
 rangular basket which would hold thirty foot-soldiers with their 
 weapons. 
 
 Matho wished to ascend in the first that was ready. 
 Spendius stopped him. 
 
SALAMMBO 387 
 
 Some men bent over a capstan ; the g^reat beam rose, be- 
 came horizontal, reared itself almost vertically, and being 
 overweighted at the end, bent like a huge reed. The sol- 
 diers, who were crowded together, were hidden up to their 
 chins ; only their helmet-plumes could be seen. At last 
 when it was twenty cubits high in the air it turned several 
 times to the right and to the left, and then was depressed ; 
 and like a giant arm holding a cohort of pigmies in its 
 hand, it laid the basketful of men upon the edge of the 
 wall. They leaped into the crowd and never returned. 
 
 All the other toUenos were speedily made ready. But a 
 hundred times as many would have been needed for the 
 capture of the town. They were utilized in a murderous 
 fashion : Kthiopian archers were placed in the baskets ; 
 then, the cables having been fastened, they remained sus- 
 pended and shot poisoned arrows. The fifty toUenos com- 
 manding the battlements thus surrounded Carthage like 
 monstrous vultures ; and the Negroes laughed to see the 
 guards on the rampart dying in grievous convulsions. 
 
 Hamilcar sent hoplites to these posts, and every morning 
 made them drink the juice of certain herbs which protected 
 them against the poison. 
 
 One evening when it was dark he embarked the best of 
 his soldiers on lighters and planks, and turning to the right 
 of the harbor, disembarked on the Taenia. Then he ad- 
 vanced to the first lines of the Barbarians, and taking them 
 in flank, made a great slaughter. Men hanging to ropes 
 would descend from the top of the wall with torches in 
 their hands, burn the works of the Mercenaries, and then 
 mount up again. 
 
 Matho was exasperated ; every obstacle strengthened his 
 wrath, which led him into terrible extravagances. He men- 
 tally summoned Salammbo to an interview ; then he waited. 
 She did not come ; this seemed to him a fresh piece of 
 treachery — and henceforth he execrated her. If he had 
 seen her corpse he would perhaps have gone away. He 
 doubled the outposts, he planted forks at the foot of the 
 rampart, he drove caltrops into the ground, and he com- 
 manded the Libyans to bring him a whole forest that he 
 might set it on fire and burn Carthage like a den of foxes. 
 
388 FLAUBERT 
 
 Spendius went on obstinately with the siege. He sought 
 to invent terrible machines such as had never before been 
 constructed. 
 
 The other Barbarians, encamped at a distance on the 
 isthmus, were amazed at these delays ; they murmured, and 
 they were let loose. 
 
 Then they rushed with their cutlasses and javelins, and 
 beat against the gates with them. But the nakedness of 
 their bodies facilitating the infliction of wounds, the Car- 
 thaginians massacred them freely ; and the Mercenaries re- 
 joiced at it, no doubt through jealousy about the plunder. 
 Hence there resulted quarrels and combats between them. 
 Then, the country having been ravaged, provisions were 
 soon scarce. They grew disheartened. Numerous hordes 
 went away, but the crowd was so great that the loss was 
 not apparent. 
 
 The best of them tried to dig mines, but the earth, be- 
 ing badly supported, fell in. They began again in other 
 places, but Hamilcar always guessed the direction that they 
 were taking by holding his ear against a bronze shield. 
 He bored counter-mines beneath the path along which the 
 wooden towers were to move, and when they were pushed 
 forward they sank into the holes. 
 
 At last all recognized that the town was impregnable, un- 
 less a long terrace were raised to the same height as the 
 walls, so as to enable them to fight on the same level. 
 The top of it should be paved so that the machines might 
 be rolled along. Then Carthage would find it quite im- 
 possible to resist. 
 
 The town was beginning to suffer from thirst. The 
 water which was worth two kesitahs the bath at the open- 
 ing of the siege was now sold for a shekel of silver ; the 
 stores of meat and com were also becoming exhausted ; 
 there was a dread of famine, and some even began to speak 
 of useless mouths, which terrified every one. 
 
 From the square of Khamou to the temple of Melkarth 
 the streets were cumbered with corpses; and, as it was the 
 end of the summer, the combatants were annoyed by great 
 black flies. Old men carried off the wounded, and the de- 
 vout continued the fictitious funerals of their relatives and 
 
SALAMMBO 389 
 
 friends who had died far away during the war. Waxen 
 statues with clothes and hair were displayed across the 
 gates. They melted in the heat of the tapers burning be- 
 side them ; the paint flowed down upon their shoulders, 
 and tears streamed over the faces of the living, as they 
 chanted mournful songs beside them. The crowd mean- 
 while ran to and fro ; armed bands passed ; captains shouted 
 orders, while the shock of the rams beating against the ram- 
 part was constantly heard. 
 
 The temperature became so heavy that the bodies swelled 
 and would no longer fit into the coffins. They were burned 
 in the centre of the courts. But the fires, being too much 
 confined, kindled the neighboring walls, and long flames 
 suddenly burst from the houses like blood spurting from 
 an artery. Thus, Moloch was in possession of Carthage ; 
 he clasped the ramparts, he rolled through the streets, he 
 devoured the very corpses. 
 
 Men wearing cloaks made of collected rags in token of 
 despair, stationed themselves at the corners of the cross- 
 ways. They declaimed against the Ancients and against 
 Hamilcar, predicted complete ruin to the people, and in- 
 vited them to universal destruction and license. The most 
 dangerous were the henbane-drinkers; in their crisis they 
 believed themselves wild beasts, and leaped upon the 
 passers-by to rend them. Mobs formed around them, and 
 the defense of Carthage was forgotten. The Suffet devised 
 the payment of others to support his policy. 
 
 In order to retain the Genius of the gods within the 
 town their images had been covered with chains. Black 
 veils were placed upon the Pataec gods, and hair cloths 
 around the altars; and attempts were made to excite the 
 pride and jealousy of the Baals by singing in their ears : 
 " Thou art about to suffer thyself to be vanquished ! Are 
 the others perchance more strong ? Show thyself ! aid us ! 
 that the people may not say : ' Where are now their 
 gods ? > » 
 
 The colleges of the pontiffs were agitated by unceasing 
 anxiety. Those of Rabetna were especially afraid — the 
 restoration of the zaimph having been of no avail. They 
 kept themselves shut up in the third inclosure which was 
 
390 FLAUBERT 
 
 as impregnable as a fortress. Only one among them, the 
 high priest Schahabarim, ventured to go out. 
 
 He used to visit Salammbo. But he would either remain 
 perfectly silent, gazing at her with fixed eyeballs, or else 
 would be lavish of words, and the reproaches that he 
 uttered were harder than ever. 
 
 With inconceivable inconsistency he could not forgive the 
 young girl for having followed his commands ; Schahabarim 
 had guessed all, and this haunting thought revived the 
 jealousies of his impotence. He accused her of being the 
 cause of the war. Matho, according to him, was besieging 
 Carthage to recover the zaimph ; and he poured out impre- 
 cations and sarcasms upon this Barbarian who pretended 
 to the possession of holy things. Yet it was not this that 
 the priest wished to say. 
 
 But just now Salammbo felt no terror of him. The an- 
 guish which she used formerly to suffer had left her. A 
 strange peacefulness possessed her. Her gaze was less 
 wandering, and shone with limpid fire. 
 
 Meanwhile the Python had become ill again ; and as 
 Salammbo, on the contrary, appeared to be recovering, old 
 Taanach rejoiced in the conviction that by its decline it 
 was taking away the languor of her mistress. 
 
 One morning she found it coiled up behind the bed of 
 ox-hides, colder than marble, and with its head hidden 
 by a heap of worms. Her cries brought Salammbo 
 to the spot. She turned it over for awhile with the 
 tip of her sandal, and the slave was amazed at her insen- 
 sibility. 
 
 Hamilcar's daughter no longer prolonged her fasts with 
 so much fervor. She passed whole days on the top of her 
 terrace, leaning her elbows against the balustrade, and 
 amusing herself by looking out before her. The summits of 
 the walls at the end of the town cut uneven zigzags upon 
 the sky, and the lances of the sentries formed what was 
 like a border of corn-ears throughout their length. Further 
 away she could see the manoeuvres of the Barbarians be- 
 tween the towers; on days when the siege was interrupted 
 she could even distinguish their occupations. They mended 
 their weapons, greased their hair, and washed their blood- 
 
SALAMMBO 391 
 
 stained arms in the sea ; the tents were closed ; the beasts 
 of burden were feeding ; and in the distance the scythes of 
 the chariots which were all ranged in a semi-circle, looked 
 like a silver scimitar lying at the base of the moun- 
 tains. She was waiting for Narr' Havas, her betrothed. 
 In spite of her hatred she would have liked to have 
 seen Matho again. Of all the Carthaginians she was per- 
 haps the only one who would have spoken to him without 
 fear. 
 
 Her father often came into her room. He would sit 
 down panting on the cushions, and gaze at her with an al- 
 most tender look, as though he found rest from his fatigues 
 in the sight of her. He sometimes questioned her about 
 her journey to the camp of the Mercenaries. He even 
 asked her whether anj-^ one had urged her to it ; and with 
 a shake of the head she answered, No — so proud was 
 Salammbo of having saved the zaimph. 
 
 But the Suffet always came back to Matho under pre- 
 tense of making military inquiries. He could not under- 
 stand how the hours which she had spent in the tent had 
 been employed. Salammbo, in fact, said nothing about 
 Gisco ; for as words had an efEective power in themselves, 
 curses, if reported to any one, might be turned against 
 him ; and she was silent about her wish to assassinate, lest 
 she should be blamed for not having yielded to it. She 
 said that the schalischim appeared furious, that he had 
 shouted a great deal, and that he had then fallen asleep. 
 Salammbo told no more, through shame perhaps, or else 
 because she was led by her extreme ingenuousness to at- 
 tach but little importance to the soldier's kisses. More- 
 over, it all floated through her head in a melancholy and 
 misty fashion, like the recollection of a depressing dream ; 
 and she would not have known in what way or in what 
 words to express it. 
 
 One evening when they were thus face to face with each 
 other, Taanach came in looking quite scared. An old man 
 with a child was yonder in the courts, and wished to see 
 the Suffet. 
 
 Hamilcar turned pale, and then quickly replied : — 
 
 " I<et him come up ! " 
 
392 FLAUBERT 
 
 Iddibal entered without prostrating himself. He held a 
 young boy, covered with a goat's hair cloak, by the hand, 
 and at once raised the hood which screened his face. 
 
 « Here he is, Master ! Take him ! » 
 
 The Suffet and the slave went into a corner of the room. 
 
 The child remained in the centre standing upright, and 
 with a gaze of attention rather than of astonishment he 
 surveyed the ceiling, the furniture, the pearl necklaces 
 trailing on the purple draperies, and the majestic maiden 
 who was bending over toward him. 
 
 He was perhaps ten years old, and was not taller than 
 a Roman sword. His curly hair shaded his swelling fore- 
 head. His eyeballs looked as though they were seeking 
 for space. The nostrils of his delicate nose were broad 
 and palpitating, and upon his whole person was displayed 
 the indefinable splendor of those who are destined to great 
 enterprises. When he had cast aside his extremely heavy 
 cloak, he remained clad in a lynx skin, which was fastened 
 about his waist, and he rested his little naked feet, which 
 were all white with dust, resolutely upon the pavement. 
 But he no doubt divined that important matters were 
 under discussion, for he stood motionless, with one hand 
 behind his back, his chin lowered, and a finger in his 
 mouth. 
 
 At last Hamilcar attracted Salammbo with a sign and 
 said to her in a low voice: — 
 
 " You will keep him with you, you understand ! No one, 
 even though belonging to the house, must know of his ex- 
 istence ! " 
 
 Then, behind the door, he again asked Iddibal whether 
 he was quite sure that they had not been noticed. 
 
 "No!* said the slave, "the streets were empty." 
 
 As the war filled all the provinces he had feared for his 
 master's son. Then, not knowing where to hide him, he 
 had come along the coasts in a sloop, and for three days 
 Iddibal had been tacking about in the gulf and watching 
 the ramparts. At last, that evening, as the environs of 
 Khamon seemed to be deserted, he had passed briskly 
 through the channel and landed near the arsenal, the en- 
 trance to the harbor being free. 
 
SALAMMBO 393 
 
 But soon the Barbarians posted an immense raft in front 
 of it in order to prevent the Carthaginians from coming 
 out. They were again rearing the wooden towers, and the 
 terrace was rising at the same time. 
 
 Outside communications were cut off and an intolerable 
 famine set in. 
 
 The besieged killed all the dogs, all the mules, all the 
 asses, and then the fifteen elephants which the Suffet had 
 brought back. The lions of the temple of Moloch had be- 
 come ferocious, and the hierodules no longer durst approach 
 them. They were fed at first with the wounded Barbarians ; 
 then they were thrown corpses that were still warm ; they 
 refused them, and they all died. People wandered in the 
 twilight along the old enclosures, and gathered grass and 
 flowers among the stones to boil them in wine, wine being 
 cheaper than water. Others crept as far as the enemy's 
 outposts, and entered the tents to steal food, and the stu- 
 pefied Barbarians sometimes allowed them to return. At last 
 a day arrived when the Ancients resolved to slaughter the 
 horses of Eschmoun privately. They were holy animals whose 
 manes were plaited by the pontiffs with gold ribbons, and 
 whose existence denoted the motion of the sun — the idea 
 of fire in its most exalted form. Their flesh was cut into 
 equal portions and buried behind the altar. Then every 
 evening the Ancients, alleging some act of devotion, would 
 go up to the temple and regale themselves in secret, and 
 each would take away a piece beneath his tunic for his 
 children. In the deserted quarters remote from the walls, 
 the inhabitants, whose misery was not so great, had barri- 
 caded themselves through fear of the rest. 
 
 The stones from the catapults, and the demolitions com- 
 manded for purposes of defense, had accumulated heaps of 
 ruins in the middle of the streets. At the quietest times 
 masses of people would suddenly rush along with shouts ; 
 and from the top of the Acropolis the conflagrations were 
 like purple rags scattered upon the terraces and twisted by 
 the wind. 
 
 The three great catapults did not stop in spite of all 
 these works. Their ravages were extraordinary : thus a 
 man's head rebounded from the pediment of the Syssitia ; a 
 
394 FLAUBERT 
 
 woman who was being confined in the street of Kinisdo 
 was crushed by a block of marble, and her child was car- 
 ried with the bed as far as the crossways of Cinasyn, where 
 the coverlet was found. 
 
 The most annoying were the bullets of the slingers. 
 They fell upon the roofs, and in the gardens, and in 
 the middle of the courts, while people were at table before 
 a slender meal with their hearts big with sighs. These 
 cruel projectiles bore engraved letters which stamped them- 
 selves upon the flesh — and insults might be read on corpses, 
 such as "pig," "jackal," "vermin," and sometimes jests: 
 " catch it ! " or " I have well deserved it ! " 
 
 The portion of the rampart which extended from the 
 corners of the harbors to the height of the cisterns was 
 broken down. Then the people of Malqua found them- 
 selves caught between the old inclosure of Byrsa behind, 
 and the Barbarians in front. But there was enough to be 
 done in thickening the wall and making it as high as pos- 
 sible without troubling about them ; they were abandoned ; 
 all perished ; and although they were generally hated, Hamil- 
 car came to be greatly abhorred. 
 
 On the morrow he opened the pits in which he kept 
 stores of corn, and his stewards gave it to the people. 
 For three days they gorged themselves. 
 
 Their thirst, however, only became the more intolerable, 
 and they could constantly see before them the long cascade 
 formed by the clear falling water of the aqueduct. A thin 
 vapor, with a rainbow beside it, went up from its base, 
 beneath the rays of the sun, and a stream curving through 
 the plain fell into the gulf. 
 
 Hamilcar did not give way. He was reckoning upon an 
 event, upon something decisive and extraordinary. 
 
 His own slaves tore off the silver plates from the temple 
 of Melkarth ; four long boats were drawn out of the har- 
 bor, they were brought by means of capstans to the foot of 
 the Mappalian quarter, the wall facing the shore was bored, 
 and they set out for the Gauls to buy Mercenaries there at 
 no matter what price. Nevertheless, Hamilcar was dis- 
 tressed at his inability to communicate with the king of 
 the Numidians, for he knew that he was behind the Bar- 
 
SALAMMBO 395 
 
 barians, and ready to fall upon them. But Narr' Havas, 
 being too weak, was not going to make any venture alone ; 
 and the Suffet had the rampart raised twelve palms higher, 
 all the material in the arsenals piled up in the Acropolis, 
 and the machines repaired once more. 
 
 Sinews taken from bulls' necks, or else stags' ham- 
 strings, were commonly employed for the twists of the cat- 
 apults. However, neither stags nor bulls were in existence 
 in Carthage. Hamilcar asked the Ancients for the hair of 
 their wives ; all sacrificed it, but the quantity was not 
 sufficient. In the buildings of the Syssitia there were 
 twelve hundred marriageable slaves destined for prostitution in 
 Greece and Italy, and their hair, having been rendered elastic 
 by the use of unguents, was wonderfully well adapted for 
 engines of war. But the subsequent loss would be too 
 great. Accordingly it was decided that a choice should be 
 made of the finest heads of hair among the wives of the 
 plebeians. Careless of their country's needs they shrieked 
 in despair when the servants of the Hundred came with 
 scissors to lay hands upon them. 
 
 The Barbarians were animated with increased fury. They 
 could be seen in the distance taking fat from the dead to 
 grease their machines, while others pulled out the nails 
 and stitched them end to end to make cuirasses. They de- 
 vised a plan of putting into the catapults vessels filled with 
 serpents which had been brought by the Negroes; the clay 
 pots broke on the flagstones, the serpents ran about, 
 seemed to multiply, and, so numerous were they, to issue 
 naturally from the walls. Then the Barbarians, not satis- 
 fied with their invention, improved upon it ; they hurled all 
 kinds of filth, human excrements, pieces of carrion, corpses. 
 The plague reappeared. The teeth of the Carthaginians fell 
 out of their mouths, and their gums were discolored like 
 those of camels after too long a journey. 
 
 The machines were set up on the terrace, although the 
 latter did not yet reach everywhere to the height of the 
 rampart. Before the twenty-three towers on the fortifica- 
 tions stood twenty-three others of wood. All the tollenos 
 were mounted again, and in the centre, a little further 
 back, appeared the formidable helepolis of Demetrius Poli- 
 
396 FLAUBERT 
 
 orcetes, which Spendius had at last reconstructed. Of 
 pyramidal shape, like the pharos of Alexandria, it was one 
 hundred and thirty cubits high and twenty-three wide, with 
 nine stories, diminishing as they approached the summit, 
 and protected by scales of brass ; they were pierced with 
 numerous doors and were filled with soldiers, and on the 
 upper platform there stood a catapult flanked by two bal- 
 listas. 
 
 Then Hamilcar planted crosses for those who should 
 speak of surrender, and even the women were brigaded. 
 The people lay in the streets, and waited full of distress. 
 
 Then one morning before sunrise (it was the seventh day 
 of the month of Ns'ssan) they heard a great shout uttered 
 by all the Barbarians simultaneously ; the leaden-tubed 
 trumpets pealed, and the great Paphlagonian horns bellowed 
 like bulls. All rose and ran to the rampart. 
 
 A forest of lances, pikes and swords bristled at its base. 
 It leaped against the walls, the ladders grappled them ; 
 and Barbarians' heads appeared in the intervals of the 
 battlements. 
 
 Beams supported by long files of men were battering at 
 the gates; and, in order to demolish the wall at places 
 where the terrace was wanting, the Mercenaries came up in 
 serried cohorts, the first line crawling, the second bending 
 their hams, and the others rising in succession to the last 
 who stood upright ; while elsewhere, in order to climb up, 
 the tallest advanced in front and the lowest in the rear, 
 and all rested their shields upon their helmets with their 
 left arms, joining them together at the edges so tightly 
 that they might have been taken for an assemblage of 
 large tortoises. The projectiles slid over these oblique 
 masses. 
 
 The Carthaginians threw down mill-stones, pestles, vats, 
 casks, beds, everything that could serve as a weight and 
 could knock down. Some watched at the embrasures with 
 fishermen's nets, and when the Barbarian arrived he found 
 himself caught in the meshes, and struggled like a fish. 
 They demolished their own battlements ; portions of wall 
 fell down raising a great dust; and as the catapults on the 
 terrace were shooting over against one another, the stones 
 
SALAMMBO 397 
 
 would strike together and shiver into a thousand pieces, mak- 
 ing a copious shower upon the combatants. 
 
 Soon the two crowds formed but one great chain of 
 human bodies ; it overflowed into the intervals in the ter- 
 race, and, somewhat looser at the two extremities, swayed 
 perpetually without advancing. They clasped one another, 
 lying flat on the ground like wrestlers. They crushed one 
 another. The women leaned over the battlements and 
 shrieked. They were dragged away by their veils, and 
 the whiteness of their suddenly uncovered sides shone in 
 the arms of the Negroes as the latter buried their daggers 
 in them. Some corpses did not fall, being too much pressed 
 by the crowd, and, supported by the shoulders of their 
 companions, advanced for some minutes quite upright and 
 with staring eyes. Some who had both temples pierced by 
 a javelin swayed their heads about like bears. Mouths, 
 opened to shout, remained gaping ; several hands flew 
 through the air. Mighty blows were dealt, which were 
 long talked of by the survivors. 
 
 Meanwhile arrows darted from the towers of wood and 
 stone. The toUenos moved their long yards rapidly ; and as 
 the Barbarians had sacked the old cemetery of the aborigines 
 beneath the catacombs, they hurled the tombstones against 
 the Carthaginians. Sometimes the cables broke under the 
 weight of too heavy baskets, and masses of men, all with 
 uplifted arms, would fall from the sky. 
 
 Up to the middle of the day the veterans had attacked 
 the Taenia fiercely in order to penetrate into the harbor and 
 destroy the fleet. Hamilcar had a fire of damp straw lit 
 upon the roofing of Khamon, and as the smoke blinded 
 them they fell back to the left, and came to swell the 
 horrible rout which was pressing forward in Malqua. Some 
 syntagmata composed of sturdy men, chosen expressly for 
 the purpose, had broken in three gates. They were checked 
 by lofty barriers made of planks studded with nails, but a 
 fourth yielded easily ; they dashed over it at a run and 
 rolled into a pit in which there were hidden snares. At 
 the south-west angle Autaritus and his men broke down the 
 rampart, the fissure in which had been stopped up with 
 bricks. The ground behind rose, and they climbed it 
 
398 FLAUBERT 
 
 nimbly. But on the top they found a second wall com- 
 posed of stones and long beams lying quite flat and alter- 
 nating like the squares on a chess board. It was a Gaulish 
 fashion, and had been adapted by the Suffet to the require- 
 ments of the situation ; the Gauls imagined themselves be- 
 fore a town in their own country. Their attack was weak, 
 and they were repulsed. 
 
 All the roundway, from the street of Khamon as far as 
 the Green Market, now belonged to the Barbarians, and 
 the Samnites were finishing off the dying with blows of 
 stakes ; or else with one foot on the wall were gazing down 
 at the smoking ruins beneath them, and the battle which 
 was beginning again in the distance. 
 
 The slingers, who were distributed through the rear, were 
 still shooting. But the springs of the Acarnanian slings 
 had broken from use, and many were throwing stones with 
 the hand like shepherds ; the rest hurled leaden bullets 
 with the handle of a whip. Zarxas, his shoulders covered 
 with his long, black hair, went about everywhere, and led 
 on the Barbarians. Two pouches hung at his hips ; he 
 thrust his left hand into them continually, while his right 
 arm whirled round like a chariot-wheel. 
 
 Matho had at first refrained from fighting, the better to 
 command all the Barbarians at once. He had been seen 
 along the gulf with the Mercenaries, near the lagoon with 
 the Numidians, and on the shores of the lake among the 
 Negroes, and from the back part of the plain he urged for- 
 ward masses of soldiers who came ceaselessly against the 
 ramparts. By degrees he had drawn near ; the smell of 
 blood, the sight of carnage, and the tumult of clarions had 
 at last made his heart leap. Then he had gone back into 
 his tent, and throwing off his cuirass had taken his lion's 
 skin as being more convenient for battle. The snout fitted 
 upon his head, bordering his face with a circle of fangs ; 
 the two fore-paws were crossed upon his breast, and the 
 claws of the hinder ones fell beneath his knees. 
 
 He had kept on his strong waist-belt, wherein gleamed a 
 two-edged axe, and with his great sword in both hands he 
 bad dashed impetuously through the breach. l,ike a pruner 
 cutting willow-branches and trying to strike off as much as 
 
SALAMMBO 399 
 
 possible so as to make the more money, he marched along 
 mowing down the Carthaginians around him. Those who 
 tried to seize him in flank he knocked down with blows of 
 the pommel ; when they attacked him in front he ran them 
 through ; if they fled he clove them. Two men leaped to- 
 gether upon his back ; he bounded backward against a gate 
 and crushed them. His sword fell and rose. It shivered 
 on the angle of a wall. Then he took his heavy axe, and 
 front and rear he ripped up the Carthaginians like a flock 
 of sheep. They scattered more and more, and he was 
 quite alone when he reached the second inclosure at the 
 foot of the Acropolis. The materials which had been flung 
 from the summit cumbered the steps and were heaped up 
 higher than the wall. Matho turned back amid the ruins 
 to summon his companions. 
 
 He perceived their crests scattered over the multitude; 
 they were sinking and their wearers were about to perish ; 
 he dashed toward them ; then the vast wreath of red 
 plumes closed in, and they soon rejoined him and surrounded 
 him. But an enormous crowd was discharging from the 
 side streets. He was caught by the hips, lifted up and 
 carried away outside the rampart to a spot where the ter- 
 race was high. 
 
 Matho shouted a command and all the shields sank upon 
 the helmets ; he leaped upon them in order to catch hold 
 somewhere so as to re-enter Carthage ; and, flourishing his 
 terrible axe, ran over the shields, which resembled waves 
 of bronze, like a marine god, with brandished trident, over 
 his billows. 
 
 However, a man in a white robe was walking along the 
 edge of the rampart, impassible, and indifferent to the death 
 which surrounded him. Sometimes he would spread out 
 his right hand above his eyes in order to find out some one. 
 Matho happened to pass beneath him. Suddenly his eye- 
 balls flamed, his livid face contracted ; and raising both his 
 lean arms he shouted out abuse at him. 
 
 Matho did not hear it ; but he felt so furious and cruel a 
 look entering his heart that he uttered a roar. He hurled his 
 long axe at him ; some people threw themselves upon Scha- 
 habarim ; and Matho seeing him no more fell back exhausted. 
 
400 FLAUBERT 
 
 A terrible creaking drew near, mingled with the rhythm 
 of hoarse voices singing together. 
 
 It was the great helepolis surrounded by a crowd of 
 soldiers. They were dragging it with both hands, hauling 
 it with ropes, and pushing it with their shoulders — far the 
 slope rising from the plain to the terrace, though extremely 
 gentle, was found impracticable for machines of such pro- 
 digious weight. However, it had eight wheels banded with 
 iron, and it had been advancing slowly in this way since 
 the morning, like a mountain raised upon another. Then 
 there appeared an immense ram issuing from its base. The 
 doors along the three fronts which faced the town fell down, 
 and cuirassed soldiers appeared in the interior like pillars 
 of iron. Some might be seen climbing and descending the 
 two staircases which crossed the stories. Some were wait- 
 ing to dart out as soon as the cramps of the doors touched 
 the walls ; in the middle of the upper platform the skeins 
 of the ballistas were turning, and the great beam of the 
 catapult was being lowered. 
 
 Hamilcar was at that moment standing upright on the 
 roof of Melkarth. He had calculated that it would come 
 directly toward him, against what was the most invulner- 
 able place in the wall, and was for that very reason de- 
 nuded of sentries. His slaves had for a long time been 
 bringing leathern bottles along the roundway, where they 
 had raised with clay two transverse partitions forming a 
 sort of basin. The water was flowing insensibly along the 
 terrace, and strange to say, it seemed to cause Hamilcar no 
 anxiety. 
 
 But when the helepolis was thirty paces ofiF, he com- 
 manded planks to be placed over the streets between the 
 houses from the cisterns to the rampart ; and a file of peo- 
 ple passed from hand to hand helmets and amphoras, which 
 were emptied continually. The Carthaginians, however, 
 grew indignant at this waste of water. The ram was de- 
 molishing the wall, when suddenly a fountain sprang forth 
 from the disjointed stones. Then the lofty brazen mass, 
 nine stories high, which contained and engaged more than 
 three thousand soldiers, began to rock gently like a ship. 
 In fact, the water, which had penetrated the terrace, had 
 
SALAMMBO 401 
 
 broken up the path before it ; its wheels stuck in the mire ; 
 the head of Spendius, with distended cheeks blowing an 
 ivory cornet, appeared between leathern curtains on the 
 first story. The great machine, as though convulsively 
 upheaved, advanced perhaps ten paces ; but the ground 
 softened more and more, the mire reached to the axles, 
 and the helepolis stopped, leaning over frightfully to one 
 side. The catapult rolled to the edge of the platform, and 
 carried away by the weight of its beam, fell, shattering the 
 lower stories beneath it. The soldiers who were standing 
 on the doors slipped into the abyss, or else held on to the 
 extremities of the long beams, and by their weight in- 
 creased the inclination of the helepolis, which was going to 
 pieces with creakings in all its joints. 
 
 The other Barbarians rushed up to help them, massing 
 themselves into a compact crowd. The Carthaginians de- 
 scended from the rampart, and, assailing them in the rear, 
 killed them at leisure. But the chariots furnished with the 
 sickles hastened up, and galloped round the outskirts of 
 the multitude. The latter ascended the wall again ; night 
 came on ; and the Barbarians gradually retired. 
 
 Nothing could now be seen on the plain but a sort of 
 perfectly black, swarming mass, which extended from the 
 bluish gulf to the purely white lagoon ; and the lake, 
 which had received streams of blood, stretched further 
 away like a great purple pool. 
 
 The terrace was now so laden with corpses that it looked 
 as though it had been constructed of human bodies. In 
 the centre stood the helepolis covered with armor ; and 
 from time to time huge fragments broke off from it, like 
 stones from a crumbling pyramid. Broad tracks made 
 by the streams of lead might be distinguished on the 
 walls. A broken-down wooden tower burned here and 
 there, and the houses showed dimly like the stages of a 
 ruined amphitheatre. Heavy fumes of smoke were ris- 
 ing, and rolling with them sparks which were lost in the 
 dark sky. 
 
 The Carthaginians however, who were consumed by 
 thirst, had rushed to the cisterns. They broke open the 
 doors. A miry swamp stretched at the bottom. 
 36 
 
402 FLAUBERT 
 
 What was to be done now? Moreover, the Barbarians 
 were countless, and when their fatigue was over they would 
 begin again. 
 
 The people deliberated all night in groups at the corners 
 of the streets. Some said that they ought to send away 
 the women, the sick and the old men ; others propo.sed to 
 abandon the town, and found a colony far away. But 
 vessels were lacking, and when the sun appeared no decision 
 had been made. 
 
 There was no fighting that day, all being too much ex- 
 hausted. The sleepers looked like corpses. 
 
 Then the Carthaginians, reflecting upon the cause of 
 their disasters, remembered that they had not dispatched to 
 Phoenicia the annual offering due to Tyrian Melkarth, and 
 a great terror came upon them. The gods were indignant 
 with the Republic, and were, no doubt, going to prosecute 
 their vengeance. 
 
 They were considered as cruel masters, who were ap- 
 peased with supplications and allowed themselves to be 
 bribed with presents. All were feeble in comparison with 
 Moloch the Devourer. The existence, the very flesh of 
 men, belonged to him ; and hence, in order to preserve it, 
 the Carthaginians used to offer up a portion of it to him, 
 which calmed his fury. Children were burned on the fore- 
 head, or on the nape of the neck, with woolen wicks ; 
 and as this mode of satisfying Baal brought in much money 
 to the priests, they failed not to recommend it as being 
 easier and more pleasant. 
 
 This time, however, the Republic itself was at stake. 
 But as every profit must be purchased by some loss, and 
 as every transaction was regulated according to the needs 
 of the weaker and the demands of the stronger, there was 
 no pain great enough for the god, since he delighted in 
 such as was of the most horrible description, and all were 
 now at his mercy. He must accordingly be fully gratified. 
 Precedents showed that in this way the scourge would be 
 made to disappear. Moreover, it was believed that an im- 
 molation by fire would purify Carthage. The ferocity of 
 the people was predisposed toward it. The choice, too, must 
 fall exclusively upon the families of the great. 
 
SALAMMBO 403 
 
 The Ancients assembled. The sitting was a long one. 
 Hanno had come to it. As he was now unable to sit he 
 remained lying down near the door, half hidden among the 
 fringes of the lofty tapestry ; and when the pontiff of 
 Moloch asked them whether they would consent to surren- 
 der their children, his voice suddenly broke forth from the 
 shadow like the roaring of a Genius in the depths of a cavern. 
 He regretted, he said, that he had none of his own blood 
 to give; and he gazed at Hamilcar, who faced him at the 
 other end of the hall. The SufEet was so much discon- 
 certed by this look that it made him lower his eyes. All suc- 
 cessively bent their heads in approval ; and in accordance 
 with the rites he had to reply to the high priest : " Yes ; 
 be it so.* Then the Ancients decreed the sacrifice in tra- 
 ditional circumlocution — because there are things more 
 troublesome to say than to perform. 
 
 The decision was almost immediately known in Carthage, 
 and lamentations resounded. The cries of women might 
 everywhere be heard ; their husbands consoled them, or 
 railed at them with remonstrances. 
 
 But three hours afterward extraordinary tidings were 
 spread abroad : the SufEet had discovered springs at the foot 
 of the cliff. There was a rush to the place. Water might 
 be seen in holes dug in the sand, and some were already 
 lying flat on the ground and drinking. 
 
 Hamilcar did not himself know whether it was by the 
 determination of the gods or through the vague recollec- 
 tion of a revelation which his father had once made to 
 him ; but on leaving the Ancients he had gone down to 
 the shore and had begun to dig the gravel with his 
 slaves. 
 
 He gave clothing, boots, and wine. He gave all the 
 rest of the corn that he was keeping by him. He even 
 let the crowd enter his palace, and he opened kitchens, 
 stores and all the rooms — Salammbo's alone excepted. He 
 announced that six thousand Gaulish Mercenaries were 
 coming, and that the king of Macedonia was sending 
 soldiers. 
 
 But on the second day the springs diminished, and on 
 the evening of the third they were completely dried up. 
 
404 FLAUBERT 
 
 Then the decree of the Ancients passed everywhere from 
 lip to lip, and the priests of Moloch commenced their 
 task. 
 
 Men in black robes presented themselves in the houses. 
 In many instances the owners had deserted them under 
 pretense of some business, or of some dainty that they were 
 going to buy ; and the servants of Moloch came and took 
 the children away. Others themselves surrendered them 
 stupidly. Then they were brought to the temple of Tanith, 
 where the priestesses were charged with their amusement 
 and support until the solemn day. 
 
 They visited Hamilcar suddenly and found him in his 
 gardens. 
 
 ** Barca ! we come for that that you know of — your 
 son ! " They added that some people had met him one 
 evening during the previous moon in the centre of the 
 Mappalian district being led b3' an old man. 
 
 He was as though suffocated, at first. But speedily 
 understanding that any denial would be vain, Hamilcar 
 bowed ; and he brought them into the commercial hou.se. 
 Some slaves who had run up at a sign kept watch round 
 about it. 
 
 He entered Salammbo's room in a state of distraction. 
 He seized Hannibal with one hand, snatched up the cord 
 of a trailing garment with the other, tied his feet and 
 hands with it, thrust the end into his mouth to form a 
 gag, and hid him under the bed of ox -hides by letting an 
 ample drapery fall to the ground. 
 
 Afterward he walked about from right to left, raised his 
 arms, wheeled round, bit his lips. Then he stood still 
 with staring eyeballs, and panted as though he were about 
 to die. 
 
 But he clapped his hands three times. Giddenem ap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Listen I " he said, " go and take from among the slaves 
 a male child from eight to nine years of age, with black 
 hair and swelling forehead ! Bring him here ! make 
 haste ! » 
 
 Giddenem soon entered again, bringing forward a young 
 boy. 
 
SALAMMBO 405 
 
 He was a miserable child, at once lean and bloated ; his 
 skin looked grayish, like the infected rag hanging to his 
 sides; his head was sunk between his shoulders, and with 
 the back of his hand he was rubbing his ,eyes, which were 
 filled with flies. 
 
 How could he ever be confounded with Hannibal ! and 
 there was no time to choose another. Hamilcar looked at 
 Giddenem ; he felt inclined to strangle him. 
 
 " Begone ! " he cried ; and the master of the slaves fled. 
 
 The misfortune which he had so long dreaded was there- 
 fore come, and with extravagant efforts he strove to 
 discover whether there was not some mode, some means to 
 escape it. 
 
 Abdalonim suddenly spoke from behind the door. The 
 Suffet was being asked for. The servants of Moloch were 
 growing impatient. 
 
 Hamilcar repressed a cry as though a red hot iron had 
 burned him ; and he began anew to pace the room like one 
 distraught. Then he sank down beside the balustrade and, 
 with his elbows on his knees, pressed his forehead into his 
 shut fists. 
 
 The porphyry basin still contained a little clear water for 
 Salammbo's ablutions. In spite of his repugnance and all 
 his pride, the Suffet dipped the child into it, and, like a 
 slave merchant, began to wash him and rub him with 
 strigils and red earth. Then he took two purple squares 
 from the receptacles round the wall, placed one on his 
 breast and the other on his back, and joined them together 
 on the collar bones with two diamond clasps. He poured 
 perfume upon his head, passed an electrum necklace around 
 his neck, and put on him sandals with heels of pearls — 
 sandals belonging to his own daughter ! But he stamped 
 with shame and vexation ; Salammbo, who busied herself 
 in helping him, was as pale as he. The child, dazzled by 
 such splendor, smiled, and, growing bold even, was begin- 
 ning to clap his hands and jump, when Hamilcar took him 
 away. 
 
 He held him firmly by the arm as though he were afraid 
 of losing him, and the child, who was hurt, wept a little 
 as he ran beside him. 
 
4o6 FLAUBERT 
 
 When on a level with the ergastulum, under a palm 
 tree, a voice was raised, a mournful and supplicant voice. 
 It murmured : " Master ! oh ! master ! " 
 
 Hamilcar turned and beside him perceived a man of 
 abject appearance, one of the wretches who led a haphazard 
 existence in the household. 
 
 « What do you want ? » said the Suffet. 
 
 The slave, who trembled horribly, stammered : — 
 
 « I am his father ! » 
 
 Hamilcar walked on ; the other followed him with stoop- 
 ing loins, bent hams, and head thrust forward. His face 
 was convulsed with unspeakable anguish, and he was chok- 
 ing with suppressed sobs, so eager was he at once to ques- 
 tion him, and to cry " Mercy ! " 
 
 At last he ventured to touch him lightly with one finger 
 on the elbow. 
 
 " Are you going to ? " He had not strength to finish, 
 
 and Hamilcar stopped quite amazed at such grief. 
 
 He had never thought — so immense was the abyss sep- 
 arating them from each other — that there could be anything 
 in common between them. It even appeared to him a sort 
 of outrage, an encroachment upon his own privileges. He 
 replied with a look colder and heavier than an executioner's 
 axe; the slave swooned and fell in the dust at his feet. 
 Hamilcar strode across him. 
 
 The three black-robed men were waiting in the great 
 hall, and standing against the stone disc. Immediately he 
 tore his garments, and rolled upon the pavement uttering 
 piercing cries. 
 
 " Ah ! poor little Hannibal ! Oh ! my son ! my consola- 
 tion ! my hope ! my life ! Kill me also ! take me away ! 
 Woe ! Woe ! " He plowed his face with his nails, tore 
 out his hair, and shrieked like the women who lament at 
 funerals. " Take him away then ! my sufEering is too 
 great ! begone ! kill me like him ! " The servants of Moloch 
 were astonished that the great Hamilcar was so weak- 
 spirited. They were almost moved by it. 
 
 A noise of naked feet became audible, with a broken 
 throat-rattling like the breathing of a wild beast speeding 
 along, and a man, pale» terrible, and with outspread arms 
 
SALAMMBO 4°/ 
 
 appeared on the threshold of the third gallery, between the 
 ivory posts ; he exclaimed : — 
 
 « My child ! » 
 
 Hamilcar threw himself with a bound upon the slave, 
 and covering the man's mouth with his hand exclaimed 
 Still more loudly : — 
 
 " It is the old man who reared him ! he calls him ' my 
 child ! ' it will make him mad ! enough ! enough ! " And 
 hustling away the three priests and their victim he went 
 out with them and with a great kick shut the door behind him. 
 
 Hamilcar strained his ears for some minutes in constant 
 fear of seeing them return. He then thought of getting 
 rid of the slave in order to be quite sure that he would see 
 nothing ; but the peril had not wholly disappeared, and, if 
 the gods were provoked at the man's death, it might be 
 turned against his son. Then, changing his intention, he 
 sent him by Taanach the best from his kitchens — a quar- 
 ter of a goat, beans, and preserved pomegranates. The 
 slave, who had eaten nothing for a long time, rushed upon 
 them ; his tears fell into the dishes. 
 
 Hamilcar at last returned to Salammbo, and unfastened 
 Hannibal's cords. The child in exasperation bit his hand 
 ■until the blood came. He repelled him with a caress. 
 
 To make him remain quiet, Salammbo tried to frighten 
 him with I^amia, a Cyrenian ogress. 
 
 "But where is she?" he asked. 
 
 He was told that brigands were coming to put him into 
 prison. " l^et them come,* he rejoined, "and I will kill 
 them! » 
 
 Then Hamilcar told him the frightful truth. But he fell 
 into a passion with his father, contending that he was quite 
 able to annihilate the whole people since he was the master 
 of Carthage. 
 
 At last, exhausted by his exertions and anger, he fell 
 into a wild sleep. He spoke in his dreams, his back lean- 
 ing against a scarlet cushion ; his head was thrown back 
 somewhat, and his little arm, outstretched from his body, 
 lay quite straight in an attitude of command. 
 
 When the night had grown dark Hamilcar lifted him up 
 gently, and, without a torch, went down the galley stair- 
 
4o8 FLAUBERT 
 
 case. As he passed through the mercantile house he took 
 up a basket of grapes and a flagon of pure water ; the 
 child awoke before the statue of Aletes in the vault of 
 gems, and he smiled — like the other — on his father's arm 
 at the brilliant lights which surrounded him. 
 
 Hamilcar felt quite sure that his son could not be taken 
 from him. It was an impenetrable spot communicating 
 with the beach by a subterranean passage which he alone 
 knew, and casting his eyes around he inhaled a great 
 draught of air. Then he set him down upon a stool beside 
 some golden shields. 
 
 No one at present could see him ; he had no further need 
 for watching ; and he relieved his feelings. Like a mother 
 finding again her first-born that was lost, he threw himself 
 upon his son ; he clasped him to his breast, he laughed and 
 wept at the same time, he called him by the fondest names 
 and covered him with kisses ; little Hannibal was frightened 
 by this terrible tenderness and was silent now. 
 
 Hamilcar returned with silent steps, feeling the walls 
 around him, and came into the great hall where the moon- 
 light entered through one of the apertures in the dome ; in 
 the centre the slave lay sleeping after his repast, stretched 
 at full length upon the marble pavement. He looked at 
 him and was moved with a sort of pity. With the tip of 
 his cothurn he pushed forward a carpet beneath his head. 
 Then he raised his eyes and gazed at Tanith, whose slen- 
 der crescent was shining in the sky, and felt himself 
 stronger than the Baals and full of contempt for them. 
 
 The arrangements for the sacrifice were already begun. 
 
 Part of a wall in the temple of Moloch was thrown down 
 in order to draw out the brazen god without touching the 
 ashes of the altar. Then as soon as the sun appeared the 
 hierodules pushed it toward the square of Khamon. 
 
 It moved backward sliding upon cylinders ; its shoulders 
 overlapped the walls. No sooner did the Carthaginians 
 perceive it in the distance than they speedily took to flight, 
 for the Baal could be looked upon with impunity only when 
 exercising his wrath. 
 
 A smell of aromatics spread through the streets. All 
 the temples had just been opened simultaneously and from 
 
SALAMMBO 409 
 
 them there came forth tabernacles borne upon chariots, or 
 upon litters carried by the pontiffs. Great plumes swayed 
 at the corners of them, and rays were emitted from their 
 slender pinnacles which terminated in balls of crystal, gold, 
 silver, or copper. 
 
 These were the Chanaanitish Baahm, offshoots of the 
 supreme Baal, who were returning to their first cause to 
 humble themselves before his might and annihilate them- 
 selves in his splendor. 
 
 Melkarth's paviUon, which was of fine purple, sheltered 
 a petroleum flame ; on Khamon's, which was of hyacinth 
 color, there rose an ivory phallus bordered with a circle of 
 gems ; between Eschmoun's curtains, which were blue as 
 the ether, a sleeping python formed a circle with his tail, 
 and the Pataec gods, held in the arms of their priests, 
 looked like great infants in swaddling clothes with their 
 heels touching the ground. 
 
 Then came all the inferior forms of the Divinity : Baal- 
 Samin, god of celestial space ; Baal-Peor, god of the sacred 
 mountains ; Baal-Zeboub, god of corruption, with those of 
 the neighboring countries and congenerous races : the Irabal 
 of Ivibya, the Adrammelech of Chaldsea, the Kijun of the 
 Syrians ; Derceto, with her virgin's face, crept on her fins 
 and the corpse of Tammouz was drawn along in the midst 
 of a catafalque among torches and heads of hair. In order 
 to subdue the kings of the firmament to the Sun, and pre- 
 vent their particular influences from disturbing his, diversely 
 colored metal stars were brandished at the end of long poles ; 
 and all were there, from the dark Nebo, the Genius of 
 Mercury, to the hideous Rahab, which is the constellation 
 of the Crocodile. The Abaddirs, stones which had fallen 
 from the moon, were whirling in slings of silver thread ; 
 little loaves, representing a woman's sex, were borne on 
 baskets by the priests of Ceres ; others brought their fetishes 
 and amulets ; forgotten idols reappeared, while the mystic 
 symbols had been taken from the very ships as though 
 Carthage wished to concentrate herself wholly upon a single 
 thought of death and desolation. 
 
 Before each tabernacle a man balanced a large vase of 
 smoking incense on his head. Clouds hovered here and 
 
4IO FLAUBERT 
 
 there, and the hangings, pendants, and embroideries of the 
 sacred pavilions might be distinguished amid the thick va- 
 pors. These advanced slowly owing to their enormous 
 weight. Sometimes the axles became fast in the streets ; 
 then the pious took advantage of the opportunity to touch 
 the Baalim with their garments which they preserved after- 
 ward as holy things. 
 
 The brazen statue continued to advance toward the square of 
 Khamon. The Rich, carrying sceptres with emerald balls, 
 set out from the bottom of Megara ; the Ancients, with dia- 
 dems on their heads, had assembled in Kinisdo, and mas- 
 ters of the finances, governors of provinces, sailors, and the 
 numerous horde employed at funerals, all with the insignia 
 of their magistracies or the instruments of their calling, 
 were making their way toward the tabernacles which were de- 
 scending from the Acropolis between the colleges of the pontiffs. 
 
 Out of deference to Moloch they had adorned themselves 
 with the most splendid jewels. Diamonds sparkled on their 
 black garments ; but their rings were too large and fell from 
 their wasted hands — nor could there have been anything so 
 mournful as this silent crowd where earrings tapped against 
 pale faces, and gold tiaras clasped brows contracted with 
 stern despair. 
 
 At last the Baal arrived exactly in the centre of the 
 square. His pontiffs arranged an enclosure with trellis- 
 work to keep off the multitude, and remained around him 
 at his feet. 
 
 The priests of Khamon, in tawny woolen robes, formed 
 a line before their temple beneath the columns of the por- 
 tico ; those of Eschmoun, in linen mantles with necklaces of 
 koukouphas' heads and pointed tiaras, posted themselves 
 on the steps of the Acropolis ; the priests of Melkarth, in 
 violet tunics, took the western side ; the priests of the Abad- 
 dirs, clasped with bands of Phrygian stuffs, placed them- 
 selves on the east, while toward the south, with the necro- 
 mancers all covered with tatooings and the shriekers in 
 patched cloaks, were ranged the curates of the Pataec gods, 
 and the Yidonim, who put the bone of a dead man into 
 their mouths to learn the future. The priests Ceres, who 
 -were dressed in blue robes, had prudently stopped in the 
 
SALAMMBO 411 
 
 street of Satheb, and in low tones were chanting a thesmo- 
 phorion in the Megarian dialect. 
 
 From time to time files of men arrived, completely naked, 
 their arms outstretched, and all holding one another by the 
 shoulders. From the depths of their breasts they drew 
 forth a hoarse and cavernous intonation ; their eyes, which 
 were fastened upon the colossus, shone through the 
 dust, and they swayed their bodies simultaneously, and 
 at equal distances, as though they were all affected by a 
 single movement. They were so frenzied that to restore 
 order the hierodules compelled them, with blows of the 
 stick, to lie flat upon the ground, with their faces resting 
 against the brass trellis-work. 
 
 Then it was that a man in a white robe advanced from 
 the back of the square. He penetrated the crowd slowly, 
 and people recognized a priest of Tanith — the high-priest 
 Schahabarim. Hootings were raised, for the tyranny of 
 the male principle prevailed that day in all consciences, 
 and the goddess was actually so completely forgotten that 
 the absence of her pontiffs had not been noticed. But the 
 amazement increased when he was seen to open one of the 
 doors in the trellis-work intended for those who entered to 
 offer up victims. It was an outrage to their god, thought 
 the priests of Moloch, that he had just committed, and 
 they sought with eager gestures to repel him. Fed on the 
 meat of the holocausts, clad in purple like kings, and 
 wearing triple-storied crowns, they despised the pale eunuch, 
 weakened with his macerations, and angry laughter shook 
 their black beards, which were displayed on their breasts in 
 the sun. 
 
 Schahabarim walked on, giving no reply, and, traversing 
 the whole enclosure with deliberation, reached the legs of 
 the colossus ; then, spreading out both arms, he touched it 
 on both sides, which was a solemn form of adoration. For 
 a. long time Rabbet had been torturing him, and in despair, 
 or perhaps for lack of a god that completely satisfied his 
 ideas, he had at last decided for this one. 
 
 The crowd, terrified by this act of apostasy, uttered a 
 lengthened murmur. It was felt that the last tie which 
 bound their souls to a merciful divinity was breaking. 
 
412 FLAUBERT 
 
 But owing to his mutilation Schahabarim could take no 
 part in the cult of the Baal. The men in the red cloaks 
 shut him out from the enclosure ; then, when he was out- 
 side, he went round all the colleges in succession, and the 
 priest, henceforth without a god, disappeared in the crowd. 
 It scattered at his approach. 
 
 Meanwhile a fire of aloes, cedar, and laurel was burning 
 between the legs of the colossus. The tips of its long 
 wings dipped into the flame ; the unguents with which it 
 had been rubbed flowed like sweat over its brazen limbs. 
 Around the circular flagstone on which its feet rested, the 
 children, wrapped in black veils, formed a motionless 
 circle ; and its extravagantly long arms reached down their 
 palms to them as though to seize the crown that they 
 formed and carry it to the sky. 
 
 The Rich, the Ancients, the women, the whole multitude 
 thronged behind the priests and on the terraces of the 
 houses. The large painted stars revolved no longer ; the 
 tabernacles were set upon the ground ; and the fumes from 
 the censers ascended perpendicularly, spreading their bluish 
 branches through the azure like gigantic trees. 
 
 Many fainted ; others became inert and petrified in their 
 ecstasy. Infinite anguish weighed upon the breasts of the 
 beholders. The last shouts died out one by one — and 
 the people of Carthage stood breathless, and absorbed in the 
 longing of their terror. 
 
 At last the high priest of Moloch passed his left hand 
 beneath the children's veils, plucked a lock of hair from 
 their foreheads, and threw it upon the flames. Then the 
 men in the red cloaks chanted the sacred hymn : — 
 
 " Homage to thee. Sun ! king of the two zones, self- 
 generating Creator, Father and Mother, Father and Son, 
 God and Goddess, Goddess and God ! * And their voices 
 were lost in the outburst of instruments sounding simul- 
 taneously to drown the cries of the victims. The eight- 
 stringed scheminiths, the kinnors which had ten strings, 
 and the nebals which had twelve, grated, whistled, and 
 thundered. Knormous leathern bags, bristling with pipes, 
 made a shrill clashing noise ; the tabourines, beaten with 
 all the players' might, resounded with heavy, rapid blows; 
 
SALAMMBO 413 
 
 and, in spite of the fury of the clarions, the salsalim 
 snapped like grasshoppers' wings. 
 
 The hierodules, with a long hook, opened the seven- 
 storied compartments on the body of the Baal. They put 
 meal into the highest, two turtle-doves into the second, an 
 ape into the third, a ram into the fourth, a sheep into the 
 fifth, and as no ox was to be had for the sixth, a tawny 
 hide taken from the sanctuary was thrown into it. The 
 seventh compartment yawned empty still. 
 
 Before undertaking anything it was well to make trial of 
 the arms of the god. Slender chainlets stretched from his 
 fingers up to his shoulders and fell behind, where men by 
 pulling them made the two hands rise to a level with the 
 elbows, and come close together against the belly; they 
 were moved several times in succession with little abrupt 
 jerks. Then the instruments were still. The fire roared. 
 
 The pontiffs of Moloch walked about on the great flag- 
 stones scanning the multitude. 
 
 An individual sacrifice was necessary, a perfectly volun- 
 tary oblation ; which was considered as carrying the others 
 along with it. But no one had appeared up to the pres- 
 ent, and the seven passages leading from the barriers to 
 the colossus were completely empty. Then the priests, to 
 encourage the people, drew bodkins from their girdles and 
 gashed their faces. The Devotees, who were stretched on 
 the ground outside, were brought within the enclosure. 
 They were thrown a bundle of horrible irons, and each 
 chose his own torture. They drove in spits between their 
 breasts ; they split their cheeks ; they put crowns of thorns 
 upon their heads ; then they twined their arms together, 
 and surrounded the children in another large circle which 
 widened and contracted in turns. They reached to the 
 balustrade. They threw themselves back again, and then 
 began once more, attracting the crowd to them by the dizzi- 
 ness of their motion with its accompanying blood and shrieks. 
 
 By degrees people came into the end of the passages ; 
 they flung into the flames pearls, gold vases, cups, torches, 
 all their wealth ; the offerings became constantly more 
 numerous and more splendid. At last a man who tottered, 
 a man pale and hideous with terror, thrust forward a child ; 
 
414 FLAUBERT 
 
 then a little black mass was seen between the hands of the 
 colossus, and sank into the dark opening. The priests 
 bent over the edge of the great flagstone — and a new 
 song burst forth celebrating the joys of death and of new 
 birth into eternity. 
 
 The children ascended slowly, and as the smoke formed 
 lofty eddies as it escaped, they seemed at a distance to 
 disappear in a eloud. Not one stirred. Their wrists and 
 ankles were tied, and the dark drapery prevented them 
 from seeing anything and from being recognized, 
 
 Hamilcar, in a red cloak, like the priests of Moloch, was 
 beside the Baal, standing upright in front of the great toe 
 of its right foot. When the fourteenth child was brought 
 every one could see him make a great gesture of horror. 
 But he soon resumed his former attitude, folded his arms, 
 and looked upon the ground. The high pontifiE stood on 
 the other side of the statue as motionless as he. His head, 
 laden with an Assyrian mitre, was bent, and he was watch- 
 ing the gold plate on his breast ; it was covered with 
 fatidical stones, and the flames mirrored in it formed 
 irisated lights. He grew pale and dismayed. Hamilcar 
 bent his brow ; and they were both so near the funeral- 
 pile that the hems of their cloaks brushed it as they rose 
 from time to time. 
 
 The brazen arms were working more quickly. They 
 paused no longer. Every time that a child was placed in 
 them the priests of Moloch spread out their hands upon 
 him to burden him with the crimes of the people, vociferating : 
 "They are not men, but oxen !" and the multitude round 
 about repeated : * Oxen ! oxen ! " The devout exclaimed : 
 " I^rd ! eat ! " and the priests of Proserpine, complying 
 through terror with the needs of Carthage, muttered the 
 Eleusinian formula : " Pour out rain ! bring forth ! '* 
 
 The victims, when scarcely at the edge of the opening, 
 disappeared like a drop of water on a red-hot plate, and 
 white smoke rose amid the great scarlet color. 
 
 Nevertheless the appetite of the god was not appeased. 
 He ever wished for more. In order to furnish him with a 
 larger supply, the victims were piled up on his hands with 
 a big chain above them which kept them in their place. 
 
SALAMMBO 415 
 
 Some devout persons had at the beginning wished to count 
 them, to see whether their number corresponded with the 
 days of the solar year; but others were brought, and it 
 was impossible to distinguish them in the giddy motion of 
 the horrible arms. This lasted for a long, indefinite time 
 until the evening. Then the partitions inside assumed a 
 darker glow, and burning flesh might be seen. Some even be- 
 lieved that they could descry hair, limbs, and whole bodies. 
 
 Night fell ; clouds accumulated above the Baal. The 
 funeral-pile, which was flameless now, formed a pyramid of 
 coals up to his knees ; completely red like a giant covered 
 with blood, he looked, with his head thrown back, as though 
 he were staggering beneath the weight of his intoxication. 
 
 In proportion as the priests made haste, the frenzy of the 
 people increased ; as the number of the victims was dimin- 
 ishing, some cried out to spare them, others that still more 
 were needful. The walls, with their burden of people, 
 seemed to be giving way beneath the bowlings of terror 
 and mystic voluptuousness. Then the faithful came into 
 the passages, dragging their children, who clung to them ; 
 and they beat them in order to make them let go, and 
 handed them over to the men in red. The instrument-players 
 sometimes stopped through exhaustion ; then the cries of 
 the mothers might be heard, and the frizzling of the fat as 
 it fell upon the coals. The henbane-drinkers crawled on all 
 fours around the colossus, roaring like tigers; the Yidonim 
 vaticinated, the Devotees sang with their cloven lips ; the 
 trellis-work had been broken through, all wished for a 
 share in the sacrifice — and fathers, whose children had 
 died previously, cast their efiigies, their playthings, their 
 presei-ved bones into the fire. Some who had knivts rushed 
 upon the rest. They slaughtered one another. The hiero- 
 dules took the fallen ashes at the edge of the flagstone in 
 bronze fans, and cast them into the air that the sacrifice 
 might be scattered over the town and even to the region 
 of the stars. 
 
 The loud noise and great light had attracted the Barba- 
 rians to the foot of the walls ; they clung to the wreck of 
 the helepolis to have a better view, and gazed open- 
 mouthed in horror.