The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac (freenovel24 TXT) 📖
- Author: Honore de Balzac
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received, probably under the Empire, a coat of plain white paint. The
three doors of the study, salon and dining-room, surmounted by oval
panels, are awaiting a restoration that is more than needed. The
wood-work is heavy, but the ornamentation is not without merit. The
salon, panelled throughout, recalls the great century by its tall
mantelpiece of Languedoc marble, its ceiling decorated at the corners,
and by the style of its windows, which still retain their little panes.
The dining-room, communicating with the salon by a double door, is
floored with stone; the wood-work is oak, unpainted, and an atrocious
modern wall-paper has been substituted for the tapestries of the olden
time. The ceiling is of chestnut; and the study, modernized by
Thuillier, adds its quota to these discordances.
The white and gold mouldings of the salon are so effaced that nothing
remains of the gilding but reddish lines, while the white enamelling
is yellow, cracked, and peeling off. Never did the Latin saying "Otium
cum dignitate" have a greater commentary to the mind of a poet than in
this noble building. The iron-work of the staircase baluster is worthy
of the artist and the magistrate; but to find other traces of their
taste to-day in this majestic relic, the eyes of an artistic observer
are needed.
The Thuilliers and their predecessors have frequently degraded this
jewel of the upper bourgeoisie by the habits and inventions of the
lesser bourgeoisie. Look at those walnut chairs covered with
horse-hair, that mahogany table with its oilcloth cover, that
sideboard, also of mahogany, that carpet, bought at a bargain, beneath
the table, those metal lamps, that wretched paper with its red border,
those execrable engravings, and the calico curtains with red fringes,
in a dining-room, where the friends of Petitot once feasted! Do you
notice the effect produced in the salon by those portraits of Monsieur
and Madame and Mademoiselle Thuillier by Pierre Grassou, the artist
par excellence of the modern bourgeoisie. Have you remarked the
card-tables and the consoles of the Empire, the tea-table supported by
a lyre, and that species of sofa, of gnarled mahogany, covered in
painted velvet of a chocolate tone? On the chimney-piece, with the
clock (representing the Bellona of the Empire), are candelabra with
fluted columns. Curtains of woollen damask, with under-curtains of
embroidered muslin held back by stamped brass holders, drape the
windows. On the floor a cheap carpet. The handsome vestibule has
wooden benches, covered with velvet, and the panelled walls with their
fine carvings are mostly hidden by wardrobes, brought there from time
to time from the bedrooms occupied by the Thuilliers. Fear, that
hideous divinity, has caused the family to add sheet-iron doors on the
garden side and on the courtyard side, which are folded back against
the walls in the daytime, and are closed at night.
It is easy to explain the deplorable profanation practised on this
monument of the private life of the bourgeoisie of the seventeenth
century, by the private life of the bourgeoisie of the nineteenth. At
the beginning of the Consulate, let us say, some master-mason having
bought the ancient building, took the idea of turning to account the
ground which lay between it and the street. He probably pulled down
the fine porte-cochere or entrance gate, flanked by little lodges
which guarded the charming "sejour" (to use a word of the olden time),
and proceeded, with the industry of a Parisian proprietor, to impress
his withering mark on the elegance of the old building. What a curious
study might be made of the successive title-deeds of property in
Paris! A private lunatic asylum performs its functions in the rue des
Batailles in the former dwelling of the Chevalier Pierre Bayard du
Terrail, once without fear and without reproach; a street has now been
built by the present bourgeois administration through the site of the
hotel Necker. Old Paris is departing, following its kings who
abandoned it. For one masterpiece of architecture saved from
destruction by a Polish princess (the hotel Lambert, Ile Saint-Louis,
bought and occupied by the Princess Czartoriska) how many little
palaces have fallen, like this dwelling of Petitot, into the hands of
such as Thuillier.
Here follows the causes which made Mademoiselle Thuillier the owner of
the house.
CHAPTER II (THE HISTORY OF A TYRANNY)At the fall of the Villele ministry, Monsieur Louis-Jerome Thuillier,
who had then seen twenty-six years' service as a clerk in the ministry
of finance, became sub-director of a department thereof; but scarcely
had he enjoyed the subaltern authority of a position formerly his
lowest hope, when the events of July, 1830, forced him to resign it.
He calculated, shrewdly enough, that his pension would be honorably
and readily given by the new-comers, glad to have another office at
their disposal. He was right; for a pension of seventeen hundred
francs was paid to him immediately.
When the prudent sub-director first talked of resigning, his sister,
who was far more the companion of his life than his wife, trembled for
his future.
"What will become of Thuillier?" was a question which Madame and
Mademoiselle Thuillier put to each other with mutual terror in their
little lodging on a third floor of the rue d'Argenteuil.
"Securing his pension will occupy him for a time," Mademoiselle
Thuillier said one day; "but I am thinking of investing my savings in
a way that will cut out work for him. Yes; it will be something like
administrating the finances to manage a piece of property."
"Oh, sister! you will save his life," cried Madame Thuillier.
"I have always looked for a crisis of this kind in Jerome's life,"
replied the old maid, with a protecting air.
Mademoiselle Thuillier had too often heard her brother remark: "Such a
one is dead; he only survived his retirement two years"; she had too
often heard Colleville, her brother's intimate friend, a government
employee like himself, say, jesting on this climacteric of
bureaucrats, "We shall all come to it, ourselves," not to appreciate
the danger her brother was running. The change from activity to
leisure is, in truth, the critical period for government employees of
all kinds.
Those of them who know not how to substitute, or perhaps cannot
substitute other occupations for the work to which they have been
accustomed, change in a singular manner; some die outright; others
take to fishing, the vacancy of that amusement resembling that of
their late employment under government; others, who are smarter men,
dabble in stocks, lose their savings, and are thankful to obtain a
place in some enterprise that is likely to succeed, after a first
disaster and liquidation, in the hands of an abler management. The
late clerk then rubs his hands, now empty, and says to himself, "I
always did foresee the success of the business." But nearly all these
retired bureaucrats have to fight against their former habits.
"Some," Colleville used to say, "are victims to a sort of 'spleen'
peculiar to the government clerk; they die of a checked circulation; a
red-tapeworm is in their vitals. That little Poiret couldn't see the
well-known white carton without changing color at the beloved sight;
he used to turn from green to yellow."
Mademoiselle Thuillier was considered the moving spirit of her
brother's household; she was not without decision and force of
character, as the following history will show. This superiority over
those who immediately surrounded her enabled her to judge her brother,
although she adored him. After witnessing the failure of the hopes she
had set upon her idol, she had too much real maternity in her feeling
for him to let herself be mistaken as to his social value.
Thuillier and his sister were children of the head porter at the
ministry of finance. Jerome had escaped, thanks to his
near-sightedness, all drafts and conscriptions. The father's ambition
was to make his son a government clerk. At the beginning of this
century the army presented too many posts not to leave various
vacancies in the government offices. A deficiency of minor officials
enabled old Pere Thuillier to hoist his son upon the lowest step of the
bureaucratic hierarchy. The old man died in 1814, leaving Jerome on
the point of becoming sub-director, but with no other fortune than
that prospect. The worthy Thuillier and his wife (who died in 1810)
had retired from active service in 1806, with a pension as their only
means of support; having spent what property they had in giving Jerome
the education required in these days, and in supporting both him and
his sister.
The influence of the Restoration on the bureaucracy is well known.
From the forty and one suppressed departments a crowd of honorable
employees returned to Paris with nothing to do, and clamorous for
places inferior to those they had lately occupied. To these acquired
rights were added those of exiled families ruined by the Revolution.
Pressed between the two floods, Jerome thought himself lucky not to
have been dismissed under some frivolous pretext. He trembled until
the day when, becoming by mere chance sub-director, he saw himself
secure of a retiring pension. This cursory view of matters will serve
to explain Monsieur Thuillier's very limited scope and knowledge. He
had learned the Latin, mathematics, history, and geography that are
taught in schools, but he never got beyond what is called the second
class; his father having preferred to take advantage of a sudden
opportunity to place him at the ministry. So, while the young
Thuillier was making his first records on the Grand-Livre, he ought to
have been studying his rhetoric and philosophy.
While grinding the ministerial machine, he had no leisure to cultivate
letters, still less the arts; but he acquired a routine knowledge of
his business, and when he had an opportunity to rise, under the
Empire, to the sphere of superior employees, he assumed a superficial
air of competence which concealed the son of a porter, though none of
it rubbed into his mind. His ignorance, however, taught him to keep
silence, and silence served him well. He accustomed himself to
practise, under the imperial regime, a passive obedience which pleased
his superiors; and it was to this quality that he owed at a later
period his promotion to the rank of sub-director. His routine habits
then became great experience; his manners and his silence concealed
his lack of education, and his absolute nullity was a recommendation,
for a cipher was needed. The government was afraid of displeasing both
parties in the Chamber by selecting a man from either side; it
therefore got out of the difficulty by resorting to the rule of
seniority. That is how Thuillier became sub-director. Mademoiselle
Thuillier, knowing that her brother abhorred reading, and could
substitute no business for the bustle of a public office, had wisely
resolved to plunge him into the cares of property, into the culture of
a garden, in short, into all the infinitely petty concerns and
neighborhood intrigues which make up the life of the bourgeoisie.
The transplanting of the Thuillier household from the rue d'Argenteuil
to the rue Saint-Dominique d'Enfer, the business of making the
purchase, of finding a suitable porter, and then of obtaining tenants
occupied Thuillier from 1831 to 1832. When the phenomenon of the
change was accomplished, and the sister saw that Jerome had borne it
fairly well, she found him other cares and occupations (about which we
shall hear later), all based upon the character of the man himself, as
to which it will now be useful to give information.
Though the son of a ministerial porter, Thuillier was what is called a
fine man, slender in figure, above middle height, and possessing a
face that was rather agreeable if wearing his spectacles, but
frightful without them; which is frequently the case with near-sighted
persons; for the habit of looking through glasses has covered the
pupils of his eyes with a sort of film.
Between the ages of eighteen and thirty, young Thuillier had much
success among women, in a sphere which began with the lesser bourgeois
and ended in that of the heads of departments. Under the Empire, war
left Parisian society rather denuded of men of energy, who were mostly
on the battlefield; and perhaps, as a great physician has suggested,
this may account
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