The Lesser Bourgeoisie by Honore de Balzac (freenovel24 TXT) 📖
- Author: Honore de Balzac
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step. A few days hence the Council of the order of barristers will
assemble and will censure, more or less severely, your conduct in the
matter of the property you placed with such candor in Thuillier's
hands. Do not deceive yourself; censure from that quarter (and I
mention only your least danger) is as fatal to a barrister as being
actually disbarred."
"And it is to your kind offices, no doubt," said la Peyrade, "that I
shall owe that precious result?"
"Yes, I may boast of it," replied du Portail, "for, in order to tow
you into port it has been necessary to strip you of your rigging;
unless that were done, you would always have tried to navigate under
your own sails the bourgeois shoals that you are now among."
Seeing that he, undoubtedly, had to do with a strong hand, la Peyrade
thought best to modify his tone; and so, with a more circumspect air,
he said:--
"You will allow me, monsieur, to reserve my acknowledgments until I
receive some fuller explanation."
"Here you are, then," continued du Portail, "at twenty-eight years of
age, without a penny, virtually without a profession; with antecedents
that are very--middling; with associates like Monsieur Dutocq and the
courageous Cerizet; owing to Mademoiselle Thuillier ten thousand
francs, and to Madame Lambert twenty-five thousand, which you are no
doubt extremely desirous to return to her; and finally, this marriage,
your last hope, your sheet-anchor, has just become an utter
impossibility. Between ourselves, if I have something reasonable to
propose to you, do you not think that you had much better place
yourself at my disposal?"
"I have time enough to prove that your opinion is mistaken," returned
la Peyrade; "and I shall not form any resolutions so long as the
designs you choose to have upon me are not more fully explained."
"You were spoken to, at my instigation, about a marriage," resumed du
Portail. "This marriage, as I think, is closely connected with a past
existence from which a certain hereditary or family duty has devolved
upon you. Do you know what that uncle of yours, to whom you applied in
1829, was doing in Paris? In your family he was thought to be a
millionaire; and, dying suddenly, you remember, before you got to him,
he did not leave enough for his burial; a pauper's grave was all that
remained to him."
"Did you know him?" asked la Peyrade.
"He was my oldest and dearest friend," replied du Portail.
"If that is so," said la Peyrade, hastily, "a sum of two thousand
francs, which I received on my arrival in Paris from some unknown
source--"
"Came from me," replied du Portail. "Unfortunately, engaged at the
time in a rush of important affairs, which you shall hear of later, I
could not immediately follow up the benevolent interest I felt in you
for your uncle's sake; this explains why I left you in the straw of a
garret, where you came, like a medlar, to that maturity of ruin which
brought you under the hand of a Dutocq and a Cerizet."
"I am none the less grateful to you, monsieur," said la Peyrade; "and
if I had known you were that generous protector, whom I was never able
to discover, I should have been the first to seek occasion to meet you
and to thank you."
"A truce to compliments," said du Portail; "and, to come at once to
the serious side of our present conference, what should you say if I
told you that this uncle, whose protection and assistance you came to
Paris to obtain, was an agent of that occult power which has always
been the theme of feeble ridicule and the object of silly prejudice?"
"I do not seize your meaning," said la Peyrade, with uneasy curiosity;
"may I ask you to be more precise?"
"For example, I will suppose," continued du Portail, "that your uncle,
if still living, were to say to you to-day: 'You are seeking fortune
and influence, my good nephew; you want to rise above the crowd and to
play your part in all the great events of your time; you want
employment for a keen, active mind, full of resources, and slightly
inclined to intrigue; in short, you long to exert in some upper and
elegant sphere that force of will and subtlety which at present you
are wasting in the silly and useless manipulation of the most barren
and tough-skinned animal on earth, to wit: a bourgeois. Well, then,
lower your head, my fine nephew; enter with me through the little door
which I will open to you; it gives admittance to a great house, often
maligned, but better far than its reputation. That threshold once
crossed, you can rise to the height of your natural genius, whatever
its spark may be. Statesmen, kings even, will admit you to their most
secret thoughts; you will be their occult collaborator, and none of
the joys which money and the highest powers can bestow upon a man will
be lacking to you."
"But, monsieur," objected la Peyrade, "without venturing to understand
you, I must remark that my uncle died so poor, you tell me, that
public charity buried him."
"Your uncle," replied du Portail, "was a man of rare talent, but he
had a certain weak side in his nature which compromised his career. He
was eager for pleasure, a spendthrift, thoughtless for the future; he
wanted also to taste those joys that are meant for the common run of
men, but which for great, exceptional vocations are the worst of
snares and impediments: I mean the joys of family. He had a daughter
whom he madly loved, and it was through her that his terrible enemies
opened a breach in his life, and prepared the horrible catastrophe
that ended it."
"Is that an encouragement to enter this shady path, where, you say, he
might have asked me to follow him?"
"But if I myself," said du Portail, "should offer to guide you in it,
what then?"
"You, monsieur!" said la Peyrade, in stupefaction.
"Yes, I--I who was your uncle's pupil at first, and later his
protector and providence; I, whose influence the last half-century has
daily increased; I, who am wealthy; I, to whom all governments, as
they fall one on top of the others like houses of cards, come to ask
for safety and for the power to rebuild their future; I, who am the
manager of a great theatre of puppets (where I have Columbines in the
style of Madame de Godollo); I, who to-morrow, if it were necessary to
the success of one of my vaudevilles or one of my dramas, might
present myself to your eyes as the wearer of the grand cordon of the
Legion of honor, of the Order of the Black Eagle, or that of the
Golden Fleece. Do you wish to know why neither you nor I will die a
violent death like your uncle, and also why, more fortunate than
contemporaneous kings, I can transmit my sceptre to the successor whom
I myself may choose? Because, like you, my young friend, in spite of
your Southern appearance, I was cold, profoundly calculating, never
tempted to lose my time on trifles at the outskirts; because heat,
when I was led by force of circumstances to employ it, never went
below the surface. It is more than probable that you have heard of me;
well, for you I will open a window in my cloud; look at me, observe me
well; have I a cloven hoof, or a tail at the end of my spine? On the
contrary, am I not a model of the most inoffensive of householders in
the Saint-Sulpice quarter? In that quarter, where I have enjoyed, I
may say it, universal esteem for the last twenty-five years, I am
called du Portail; but to you, if you will allow me, I shall now name
myself _Corentin_."
"Corentin!" cried la Peyrade, with terrified astonishment.
"Yes, monsieur; and you see that in telling you that secret I lay my
hand upon you, and enlist you. Corentin! 'the greatest man of the
police in modern times,' as the author of an article in the
'Biographies of Living Men' has said of me--as to whom I ought in
justice to remark that he doesn't know a thing about my life."
"Monsieur," said la Peyrade, "I can assure you that I shall keep that
secret; but the place which you offer me near you--in your employ--"
"That frightens you, or, at least, it makes you uneasy," said
Corentin, quickly. "Before you have even considered the thing the word
scares you, does it? The police! _Police_! you are afraid to encounter
the terrible prejudice that brands it on the brow."
"Certainly," said la Peyrade, "it is a necessary institution; but I do
not think that it is always calumniated. If the business of those who
manage it is honorable why do they conceal themselves so carefully?"
"Because all that threatens society, which it is the mission of the
police to repress," replied Corentin, "is plotted and prepared in
hiding. Do thieves and conspirators put upon their hats, 'I am
Guillot, the shepherd of this flock'? And when we are after them must
we ring a bell to let them know we are coming?"
"Monsieur," said la Peyrade, "when a sentiment is universal it ceases
to be a prejudice, it becomes an opinion; and this opinion ought to be
a law to every man who desires to keep his own esteem and that of
others."
"And when you robbed that notary to enrich the Thuilliers for your own
advantage," said Corentin, "did you keep your own esteem and that of
the Council of barristers? And who knows, monsieur, if in your life
there are not still blacker actions than that? I am a more honorable
man than you, because, outside of my functions, I have not one
doubtful act upon my conscience; and when the opportunity for _good_ has
been presented to me I have done it--always and everywhere. Do you
think that the guardianship of that poor insane girl in my home has
been all roses? But she was the daughter of my old friend, your uncle,
and when, feeling the years creep on me, I propose to you, between
sacks of money, to fit yourself to take my place--"
"What!" cried la Peyrade, "is that girl my uncle's daughter?"
"Yes; the girl I wish you to marry is the daughter of your uncle
Peyrade,--for he democratized his name,--or, if you like it better,
she was the daughter of Pere Canquoelle, a name he took from the
little estate on which your father lived and starved with eleven
children. You see, in spite of the secrecy your uncle always kept
about his family, that I know all about it. Do you suppose that before
selecting you as your cousin's husband I had not obtained every
possible information about you? And what I have learned need not make
you quite so supercilious to the police. Besides, as the vulgar saying
is, the best of your nose is made of it. Your uncle belonged to the
police, and, thanks to that, he became the confidant, I might almost
say the friend, of Louis XVIII., who took the greatest pleasure in his
companionship. And you, by nature and by mind, also by the foolish
position into which you have got yourself, in short, by your whole
being, have gravitated steadily to the conclusion I propose to you,
namely, that of succeeding me,--of succeeding Corentin. That is the
question between us, Monsieur. Do you really believe now that I have
not a grasp or a 'seizin,' as you call it, upon you, and that you can
manage to escape me for any foolish considerations of bourgeois
vanity?"
La Peyrade could not have been at heart so violently opposed to this
proposal as he seemed, for the vigorous language of the great master
of the police and the species of appropriation which he made of his
person brought a smile to the young man's lips.
Corentin had risen, and was walking up and down the room, speaking,
apparently, to himself.
"The police!" he cried; "one may say of it, as Basile said of calumny
to Batholo, 'The police, monsieur! you don't know what you despise!'
And, after all," he continued, after a pause, "who are they who
despise it? Imbeciles, who don't know any better than to insult their
protectors. Suppress the police, and you destroy civilization. Do the
police ask for the respect of such people? No, they want to inspire
them with one sentiment only: fear, that great lever with which to
govern mankind,--an impure race whose odious instincts God, hell, the
executioner, and the gendarmes can scarcely restrain!"
Stopping short before la Peyrade, and looking at him with a disdainful
smile, he continued:--
"So you are one of those ninnies who see in the police nothing more
than a horde of spies and informers? Have you never suspected the
statesmen, the diplomats, the Richelieus it
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