The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac (freenovel24 TXT) 📖

the day of my election, should I

consent to allow myself to be presented to the suffrages of my

fellow-citizens" ("You must! you must!"); "for I feel myself much worn

down by thirty years of public service, and, as you may well believe,

a man of honor has need to consult his strength and his capacities

before he takes upon himself the functions of the aedileship."

 

"I expected nothing less of you, Monsieur Thuillier," cried Phellion.

"Pardon me; this is the first time in my life that I have ever

interrupted a superior; but there are circumstances--"

 

"Accept! accept!" cried Zelie. "Bless my soul! what we want are men

like you to govern us."

 

"Resign yourself, my chief!" cried Dutocq, and, "Long live the future

municipal councillor! but we haven't anything to drink--"

 

"Well, the thing is settled," said Minard; "you are to be our

candidate."

 

"You think too much of me," replied Thuillier.

 

"Come, come!" cried Colleville. "A man who has done thirty years in

the galleys of the ministry of finance is a treasure to the town."

 

"You are much too modest," said the younger Minard; "your capacity is

well known to us; it remains a tradition at the ministry of finance."

 

"As you all insist--" began Thuillier.

 

"The King will be pleased with our choice; I can assure you of that,"

said Minard, pompously.

 

"Gentlemen," said la Peyrade, "will you permit a recent dweller in the

faubourg Saint-Jacques to make one little remark, which is not without

importance?"

 

The consciousness that everybody had of the sterling merits of the

advocate of the poor produced the deepest silence.

 

"The influence of Monsieur le maire of an adjoining arrondissement,

which is immense in ours where he has left such excellent memories;

that of Monsieur Phellion, the oracle--yes, let the truth be spoken,"

he exclaimed, noticing a gesture made by Phellion--"the _oracle_ of his

battalion; the influence, no less powerful, which Monsieur Colleville

owes to the frank heartiness of his manner, and to his urbanity; that

of Monsieur Dutocq, the clerk of the justice court, which will not be

less efficacious, I am sure; and the poor efforts which I can offer in

my humble sphere of activity,--are pledges of success, but they are

not success itself. To obtain a rapid triumph we should pledge

ourselves, now and here, to keep the deepest secrecy on the

manifestation of sentiments which has just taken place. Otherwise, we

should excite, without knowing or willing it, envy and all the other

secondary passions, which would create for us later various obstacles

to overcome. The political meaning of the new social organization, its

very basis, its token, and the guarantee for its continuance, are in a

certain sharing of the governing power with the middle classes,

classes who are the true strength of modern societies, the centre of

morality, of all good sentiments and intelligent work. But we cannot

conceal from ourselves that the principle of election, extended now to

almost every function, has brought the interests of ambition, and the

passion for being _something_, excuse the word, into social depths where

they ought never to have penetrated. Some see good in this; others see

evil; it is not my place to judge between them in presence of minds

before whose eminence I bow. I content myself by simply suggesting

this question in order to show the dangers which the banner of our

friend must meet. See for yourselves! the decease of our late

honorable representative in the municipal council dates back scarcely

one week, and already the arrondissement is being canvassed by

inferior ambitions. Such men put themselves forward to be seen at any

price. The writ of convocation will, probably, not take effect for a

month to come. Between now and then, imagine the intrigues! I entreat

you not to expose our friend Thuillier to the blows of his

competitors; let us not deliver him over to public discussion, that

modern harpy which is but the trumpet of envy and calumny, the pretext

seized by malevolence to belittle all that is great, soil all that is

immaculate and dishonor whatever is sacred. Let us, rather, do as the

Third Party is now doing in the Chamber,--keep silence and vote!"

 

"He speaks well," said Phellion to his neighbor Dutocq.

 

"And how strong the statement is!"

 

Envy had turned Minard and his son green and yellow.

 

"That is well said and very true," remarked Minard.

 

"Unanimously adopted!" cried Colleville. "Messieurs, we are men of

honor; it suffices to understand each other on this point."

 

"Whoso desires the end accepts the means," said Phellion,

emphatically.

 

At this moment, Mademoiselle Thuillier reappeared, followed by her two

servants; the key of the cellar was hanging from her belt, and three

bottles of champagne, three of hermitage, and one bottle of malaga

were placed upon the table. She herself was carrying, with almost

respectful care, a smaller bottle, like a fairy Carabosse, which she

placed before her. In the midst of the hilarity caused by this

abundance of excellent things--a fruit of gratitude, which the poor

spinster in the delirium of her joy poured out with a profusion which

put to shame the sparing hospitality of her usual fortnightly dinners

--numerous dessert dishes made their appearance: mounds of almonds,

raisins, figs, and nuts (popularly known as the "four beggars"),

pyramids of oranges, confections, crystallized fruits, brought from

the hidden depths of her cupboards, which would never have figured on

the table-cloth had it not been for the "candidacy."

 

"Celeste, they will bring you a bottle of brandy which my father

obtained in 1802; make an orange-salad!" cried Brigitte to her

sister-in-law. "Monsieur Phellion, open the champagne; that bottle is

for you three. Monsieur Dutocq, take this one. Monsieur Colleville,

you know how to pop corks!"

 

The two maids distributed champagne glasses, also claret glasses, and

wine glasses. Josephine also brought three more bottles of Bordeaux.

 

"The year of the comet!" cried Thuillier, laughing, "Messieurs, you

have turned my sister's head."

 

"And this evening you shall have punch and cakes," she said. "I

have sent to the chemists for some tea. Heavens! if I had only

known the affair concerned an election," she cried, looking at

her sister-in-law, "I'd have served the turkey."

 

A general laugh welcomed this speech.

 

"We have a goose!" said Minard junior.

 

"The carts are unloading!" cried Madame Thuillier, as "marrons glaces"

and "meringues" were placed upon the table.

 

Mademoiselle Thuillier's face was blazing. She was really superb to

behold. Never did sisterly love assume such a frenzied expression.

 

"To those who know her, it is really touching," remarked Madame

Colleville.

 

The glasses were filled. The guests all looked at one another,

evidently expecting a toast, whereupon la Peyrade said:--

 

"Messieurs, let us drink to something sublime."

 

Everybody looked curious.

 

"To Mademoiselle Brigitte!"

 

They all rose, clinked glasses, and cried with one voice,

"Mademoiselle Brigitte!" so much enthusiasm did the exhibition of a

true feeling excite.

 

"Messieurs," said Phellion, reading from a paper written in pencil,

"To work and its splendors, in the person of our former comrade, now

become one of the mayors of Paris,--to Monsieur Minard and his wife!"

 

After five minutes' general conversation Thuillier rose and said:--

 

"Messieurs, To the King and the royal family! I add nothing; the toast

says all."

 

"To the election of my brother!" said Mademoiselle Thuillier a moment

later.

 

"Now I'll make you laugh," whispered la Peyrade in Flavie's ear.

 

And he rose.

 

"To Woman!" he said; "that enchanting sex to whom we owe our

happiness,--not to speak of our mothers, our sisters, and our wives!"

 

This toast excited general hilarity, and Colleville, already somewhat

gay, exclaimed:--

 

"Rascal! you have stolen my speech!"

 

The mayor then rose; profound silence reigned.

 

"Messieurs, our institutions! from which come the strength and

grandeur of dynastic France!"

 

The bottles disappeared amid a chorus of admiration as to the

marvellous goodness and delicacy of their contents.

 

Celeste Colleville here said timidly:--

 

"Mamma, will you permit me to give a toast?"

 

The good girl had noticed the dull, bewildered look of her godmother,

neglected and forgotten,--she, the mistress of that house, wearing

almost the expression of a dog that is doubtful which master to obey,

looking from the face of her terrible sister-in-law to that of

Thuillier, consulting each countenance, and oblivious of herself; but

joy on the face of that poor helot, accustomed to be nothing, to

repress her ideas, her feelings, had the effect of a pale wintry sun

behind a mist; it barely lighted her faded, flabby flesh. The gauze

cap trimmed with dingy flowers, the hair ill-dressed, the gloomy brown

gown, with no ornament but a thick gold chain--all, combined with the

expression of her countenance, stimulated the affection of the young

Celeste, who--alone in the world--knew the value of that woman

condemned to silence but aware of all about her, suffering from all

yet consoling herself in God and in the girl who now was watching her.

 

"Yes, let the dear child give us her little toast," said la Peyrade to

Madame Colleville.

 

"Go on, my daughter," cried Colleville; "here's the hermitage still to

be drunk--and it's hoary with age," he added.

 

"To my kind godmother!" said the girl, lowering her glass respectfully

before Madame Thuillier, and holding it towards her.

 

The poor woman, startled, looked through a veil of tears first at her

husband, and then at Brigitte; but her position in the family was so

well known, and the homage paid by innocence to weakness had something

so beautiful about it, that the emotion was general; the men all rose

and bowed to Madame Thuillier.

 

"Ah! Celeste, I would I had a kingdom to lay at your feet," murmured

Felix Phellion.

 

The worthy Phellion wiped away a tear. Dutocq himself was moved.

 

"Oh! the charming child!" cried Mademoiselle Thuillier, rising, and

going round to kiss her sister-in-law.

 

"My turn now!" said Colleville, posing like an athlete. "Now listen:

To friendship! Empty your glasses; refill your glasses. Good! To the

fine arts,--the flower of social life! Empty your glasses; refill your

glasses. To another such festival on the day after election!"

 

"What is that little bottle you have there?" said Dutocq to

Mademoiselle Thuillier.

 

"That," she said, "is one of my three bottles of Madame Amphoux'

liqueur; the second is for the day of Celeste's marriage; the third

for the day on which her first child is baptized."

 

"My sister is losing her head," remarked Thuillier to Colleville.

 

The dinner ended with a toast, offered by Thuillier, but suggested to

him by Theodose at the moment when the malaga sparkled in the little

glasses like so many rubies.

 

"Colleville, messieurs, has drunk to _friendship_. I now drink, in

this most generous wine, To my friends!"

 

An hurrah, full of heartiness, greeted that fine sentiment, but Dutocq

remarked aside to Theodose:--

 

"It is a shame to pour such wine down the throats of such people."

 

"Ah! if we could only make such wine as that!" cried Zelie, making her

glass ring by the way in which she sucked down the Spanish liquid.

"What fortunes we could get!"

 

Zelie had now reached her highest point of incandescence, and was

really alarming.

 

"Yes," replied Minard, "but ours is made."

 

"Don't you think, sister," said Brigitte to Madame Thuillier, "that we

had better take coffee in the salon?"

 

Madame Thuillier obediently assumed the air of mistress of the house,

and rose.

 

"Ah! you are a great wizard," said Flavie Colleville, accepting la

Peyrade's arm to return to the salon.

 

"And yet I care only to bewitch you," he answered. "I think you more

enchanting than ever this evening."

 

"Thuillier," she said, to evade the subject, "Thuillier made to think

himself a political character! oh! oh!"

 

"But, my dear Flavie, half the absurdities of life are the result of

such conspiracies; and men are not alone in these deceptions. In how

many families one sees the husband, children, and friends persuading a

silly mother that she is a woman of sense, or an old woman of fifty

that she is young and beautiful. Hence, inconceivable contrarieties

for those who go about the world with their eyes shut. One man owes

his ill-savored conceit to the flattery of a mistress; another owes

his versifying vanity to those who are paid to call him a great poet.

Every family has its great man; and the result is, as we see it in the

Chamber, general obscurity of the lights of France. Well, men of real

mind are laughing to themselves about it, that's all. You are the mind

and the beauty of this little circle of the petty bourgeoisie; it is

this superiority which led me in the first instance to worship you. I

have since longed to drag you out of it; for I love you sincerely

--more in friendship than in love; though a great deal of love is

gliding into it," he added, pressing her to his heart under cover of

the recess of a window to which he had taken her.

 

"Madame Phellion will play the piano," cried Colleville. "We must all

dance to-night--bottles and Brigitte's francs and all the little

girls! I'll go and fetch my clarionet."

 

He gave his empty coffee-cup to his wife, smiling to see her so

friendly with la