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

CHAPTER XI (EXPLANATIONS AND WHAT CAME OF THEM)`

On his return to the office after his conference with Brigitte,

Thuillier found la Peyrade at his post as editor-in-chief, and in a

position of much embarrassment, caused by the high hand he had

reserved for himself as the sole selector of articles and

contributors. At this moment, Phellion, instigated by his family, and

deeply conscious of his position on the reading-committee of the

Odeon, had come to offer his services as dramatic critic.

 

"My dear monsieur," he said, continuing his remarks to la Peyrade,

after inquiring of Thuillier about his health, "I was a great student

of the theatre in my youth; the stage and its scenic effects continue

to have for me peculiar attractions; and the white hairs which crown

my brow to-day seem to me no obstacle to my allowing your interesting

publication to profit by the fruit of my studies and my experience. As

member of the reading-committee of the Odeon theatre, I am conversant

with the modern drama, and--if I may be quite sure of your discretion

--I will even confide to you that among my papers it would not be

impossible for me to find a certain tragedy entitled 'Sapor,' which in

my young days won me some fame when read in salons."

 

"Ah!" said la Peyrade, endeavoring to gild the refusal he should be

forced to give, "why not try to have it put upon the stage? We might

be able to help you in that direction."

 

"Certainly," said Thuillier, "the director of any theatre to whom we

should recommend--"

 

"No," replied Phellion. "In the first place, as member of the

reading-committee of the Odeon, having to sit in judgment upon others,

it would not become me to descend into the arena myself. I am an old

athlete, whose business it is to judge of blows he can no longer give.

In this sense, criticism is altogether within my sphere, and all the

more because I have certain views on the proper method of composing

dramatic feuilletons which I think novel. The 'castigat ridendo mores'

ought to be, according to my humble lights, the great law, I may say

the only law of the stage. I should therefore show myself pitiless for

those works, bred of imagination, in which morality has no part, and

to which mothers of families--"

 

"Excuse me," said la Peyrade, "for interrupting you; but before

allowing you to take the trouble to develop your poetical ideas, I

ought to tell you that we have already made arrangements for our

dramatic criticism."

 

"Ah! that's another thing," said Phellion; "an honest man must keep

his word."

 

"Yes," said Thuillier, "we have our dramatic critic, little thinking

that you would offer us your valuable assistance."

 

"Well," said Phellion, suddenly becoming crafty,--for there is

something in the newspaper atmosphere, impossible to say what, which

flies to the head, the bourgeois head especially,--"since you are good

enough to consider my pen capable of doing you some service, perhaps a

series of detached thoughts on different subjects, to which I should

venture to give the name of 'Diversities,' might be of a nature to

interest your readers."

 

"Yes," said la Peyrade, with a maliciousness that was quite lost upon

Phellion, "thoughts, especially in the style of la Rochefoucauld or la

Bruyere, might do. What do you think yourself, Thuillier?"

 

He reserved to himself the right to leave the responsibility of

refusals, as far as he could, to the proprietor of the paper.

 

"But I imagine that thoughts, especially if detached, cannot be very

consecutive," said Thuillier.

 

"Evidently not," replied Phellion; "detached thoughts imply the idea

of a very great number of subjects on which the author lets his pen

stray without the pretension of presenting a whole."

 

"You will of course sign them?" said la Peyrade.

 

"Oh, no!" replied Phellion, alarmed. "I could not put myself on

exhibition in that way."

 

"Your modesty, which by the bye I understand and approve, settles the

matter," said la Peyrade. "Thoughts are a subject altogether

individual, which imperatively require to be personified by a name.

You must be conscious of this yourself. 'Divers Thoughts by Monsieur

Three-Stars' says nothing to the public."

 

Seeing that Phellion was about to make objections, Thuillier, who was

in a hurry to begin his fight with la Peyrade, cut the matter short

rather sharply.

 

"My dear Phellion," he said, "I beg your pardon for not being able to

enjoy the pleasure of your conversation any longer, but we have to

talk, la Peyrade and I, over a matter of much importance, and in

newspaper offices this devilish time runs away so fast. If you are

willing, we will postpone the question to another day. Madame Phellion

is well, I trust?"

 

"Perfectly well," said the great citizen, rising, and not appearing to

resent his dismissal. "When does your first number appear?" he added;

"it is eagerly awaited in the arrondissement."

 

"To-morrow I think our confession of faith will make its appearance,"

replied Thuillier, accompanying him to the door. "You will receive a

copy, my dear friend. We shall meet again soon, I hope. Come and see

us, and bring that manuscript; la Peyrade's point of view may be a

little arbitrary."

 

With this balm shed upon his wound, Phellion departed, and Thuillier

rang the bell for the porter.

 

"Could you recognize the gentlemen who has just gone out the next time

you see him?" asked Thuillier.

 

"Oh, yes, m'sieu, his round ball of a head is too funny to forget;

besides, it is Monsieur Phellion; haven't I opened the door to him

hundreds of times?"

 

"Well, whenever he comes again neither I nor Monsieur de la Peyrade

will be here. Remember that's a positive rule. Now leave us."

 

"The devil!" cried la Peyrade, when the two partners were alone, "how

you manage bores. But take care; among the number there may be

electors. You did right to tell Phellion you would send him a copy of

the paper; he has a certain importance in the quarter."

 

"Well," said Thuillier, "we can't allow our time to be taken up by all

the dull-heads who come and offer their services. But now you and I

have to talk, and talk very seriously. Be seated and listen."

 

"Do you know, my dear fellow," said la Peyrade, laughing, "that

journalism is making you into something very solemn? 'Be seated,

Cinna,'--Caesar Augustus couldn't have said it otherwise."

 

"Cinnas, unfortunately, are more plentiful than people think," replied

Thuillier.

 

He was still under the goad of the promise he had made to Brigitte,

and he meant to fulfil it with cutting sarcasm. The top continued the

whirling motion imparted to it by the old maid's lash.

 

La Peyrade took a seat at the round table. As he was puzzled to know

what was coming, he endeavored to seem unconcerned, and picking up the

large scissors used for the loans which all papers make from the

columns of their brethren of the press, he began to snip up a sheet of

paper, on which, in Thuillier's handwriting, was an attempt at a

leading article, never completed.

 

Though la Peyrade was seated and expectant, Thuillier did not begin

immediately; he rose and went toward the door which stood ajar, with

the intention of closing it. But suddenly it was flung wide open, and

Coffinet appeared.

 

"Will monsieur," said Coffinet to la Peyrade, "receive two ladies?

They are very well-dressed, and the young one ain't to be despised."

 

"Shall I let them in?" said la Peyrade to Thuillier.

 

"Yes, since they are here," growled Thuillier; "but get rid of them as

soon as possible."

 

Coffinet's judgment on the toilet of the two visitors needs revision.

A woman is well-dressed, not when she wears rich clothes, but when her

clothes present a certain harmony of shapes and colors which form an

appropriate and graceful envelope to her person. Now a bonnet with a

flaring brim, surmounted by nodding plumes, an immense French cashmere

shawl, worn with the awkward inexperience of a young bride, a plaid

silk gown with enormous checks and a triple tier of flounces with far

too many chains and trinkets (though to be just, the boots and gloves

were irreproachable), constituted the apparel of the younger of these

ladies. As for the other, who seemed to be in the tow of her dressy

companion, she was short, squat, and high-colored, and wore a bonnet,

shawl, and gown which a practised eye would at once have recognized as

second hand. Mothers of actresses are always clothed by this very

economical process. Their garments, condemned to the service of two

generations, reverse the order of things, and go from descendants to

ancestors.

 

Advancing two chairs, la Peyrade inquired, "To whom have I the honor

of speaking?"

 

"Monsieur," said the younger visitor, "I am a dramatic artist, and as

I am about to make my first appearance in this quarter, I allow myself

to hope that a journal of this locality will favor me."

 

"At what theatre?" asked la Peyrade.

 

"The Folies, where I am engaged for the Dejazets."

 

"The Folies?" echoed la Peyrade, in a tone that demanded an

explanation.

 

"Folies-Dramatiques," interposed the agreeable Madame Cardinal, whom

the reader has doubtless recognized.

 

"When do you appear?" asked la Peyrade.

 

"Next week, monsieur,--a fairy piece in which I play five parts."

 

"You'll encourage her, monsieur, won't you?" said Madame Cardinal, in

a coaxing voice; "she's so young, and I can certify she works day and

night."

 

"Mother!" said Olympe, with authority, "the public will judge me; all

I want is that monsieur will kindly promise to notice my debut."

 

"Very good, mademoiselle," said la Peyrade in a tone of dismissal,

beginning to edge the pair to the door.

 

Olympe Cardinal went first, leaving her mother to hurry after her as

best she could.

 

"At home to no one!" cried Thuillier to the office-boy as he closed

the door and slipped the bolt. "Now," he said, addressing la Peyrade,

"we will talk. My dear fellow," he went on, starting with irony, for

he remembered to have heard that nothing was more confusing to an

adversary, "I have heard something that will give you pleasure. I know

now why MY pamphlet was seized."

 

So saying, he looked fixedly at la Peyrade.

 

"Parbleu!" said the latter in a natural tone of voice, "it was seized

because they chose to seize it. They wanted to find, and they found,

because they always find the things they want, what the king's

adherents call 'subversive doctrine.'"

 

"No, you are wrong," said Thuillier; "the seizure was planned,

concocted, and agreed upon before publication."

 

"Between whom?" asked la Peyrade.

 

"Between those who wanted to kill the pamphlet, and the wretches who

were paid to betray it."

 

"Well, in any case, those who paid," said la Peyrade, "got mighty

little for their money; for, persecuted though it was, I don't see

that your pamphlet made much of a stir."

 

"Those who sold may have done better?" said Thuillier with redoubled

irony.

 

"Those who sold," returned la Peyrade, "were the cleverer of the two."

 

"Ah, I know," said Thuillier, "that you think a great deal of

cleverness; but allow me to tell you that the police, whose hand I see

in all this, doesn't usually throw its money away."

 

And again he looked fixedly at la Peyrade.

 

"So," said the barrister, without winking, "you have discovered that

the police had plotted in advance the smothering of your pamphlet?"

 

"Yes, my dear fellow; and what is more, I know the actual sum paid to

the person who agreed to carry out this honorable plot."

 

"The person," said la Peyrade, thinking a moment,--"perhaps I know the

person; but as for the money, I don't know a word about that."

 

"Well, I can tell you the amount. It was twenty-five--thousand

--francs," said Thuillier, dwelling on each word; "that was the sum

paid to Judas."

 

"Oh! excuse me, my dear fellow, but twenty-five thousand francs is a

good deal of money. I don't deny that you have become an important

man; but you are not such a bugbear to the government as to lead it to

make such sacrifices. Twenty-five thousand francs is as much as would

ever be given for the suppression of one of those annoying pamphlets

about the Civil list. But our financial lucubrations didn't annoy in

that way; and such a sum borrowed from the secret-service money for

the mere pleasure of plaguing you, seems to me rather fabulous."

 

"Apparently," said Thuillier, acrimoniously,