Brother Jacques Part 1

Brother Jacques.

by Charles Paul de k.o.c.k.

I

A WEDDING PARTY AT THE CADRAN-BLEU.--THE MURVILLE FAMILY

It is midnight; whence come these joyful shouts, these bursts of laughter, these outcries, this music, this singing, this uproar? Pause a moment on the boulevard, in front of the Cadran-Bleu; follow the example of those folk who look on at all the wedding parties, all the banquets, which take place at the restaurants on Boulevard du Temple, by walking in front of the windows, or in the roadway, and who enjoy comfortably the spectacle of a ladies' chain, a waltz, or a chocolate cream,--at the risk, however, of being jostled by pa.s.sers-by, splashed by carriages and insulted by drivers. But at midnight the idlers, the loiterers, or the loungers--whichever you may choose to call them--have returned home; nothing remains in front of the door of the Cadran-Bleu except cabs or private carriages, according as the guests choose to a.s.sume an air of greater or less importance; but that is the hour at which the tableau becomes more interesting, more varied, more animated; for not until then do the guests begin to become really acquainted.

But, you will ask me, what is the occasion of this a.s.semblage at the Cadran-Bleu? Is it a birthday party, an anniversary, or a banquet of some society? Better than any of these; it is a wedding party.

A wedding party! What a world of reflections those words arouse! To how many thoughts, hopes, and memories they give rise! How fast they make the young girl's heart beat, who sighs for the moment to come when she will be the heroine of that great day, when she will carry that pretty white bouquet, that wreath of orange blossoms, the symbols of modesty and of maidenhood, which have unhappily lied to more than one husband who has never boasted about it, and for a good reason! But how the thought of that ceremony saddens the young wife, but a few years married, who already has ceased to know happiness except in her memory!

She trembles for the lot of the poor child who is pledging herself! She remembers the day of her own wedding, the ardor and zealous attentions of her husband; she compares that day with those that have followed, and realizes how much confidence can be placed in the vows of man.

But let us leave such reflections. Let us enter the Cadran-Bleu, and make the acquaintance of the princ.i.p.al persons at this function, whom, probably, we shall have occasion to see more than once in the course of this narrative, unless it happens that this chapter has no connection with the plot, which is quite possible; we read many chapters of that sort.

Edouard Murville was twenty-five years of age; he was of medium stature but well-proportioned; his face was attractive, his voice soft, his manners distinguished. He had all the social talents, played moderately well on the violin, sang with expression, and danced gracefully; his language was well-chosen, he was accustomed to society, and he knew how to enter and leave a salon, which, be it said in pa.s.sing, is not so easy as one might think. What! I hear my readers say, does this fellow suppose that we do not know how to walk, to enter a room, and to bow gracefully? G.o.d forbid that I should express such a judgment upon the nation which dances best! But there are degrees in everything, and it is upon those degrees that I base my judgment. A very clever, but slightly sarcastic woman, beside whom I was sitting not long ago, in the salon of a banker, favored me with some of her observations, which in general are very just.

"Come," she said, "let us examine together the people who come into this salon; I will wager that I can guess their dispositions, their humor, by the way in which they enter.--See that tall lady pa.s.sing through the crowd, not deigning to notice anybody with even so much as a nod! Now she is sitting down in front of the fireplace, she places her feet upon the screen, and installs herself in the best place, without looking to see whether she is in the way of the people behind her or not. What do you think of that woman?"

"That she is very pretentious and desires to display her fine dress."

"That is not all,--add that she is a fool. A clever woman has a thousand ways of attracting attention without a.s.suming ridiculous airs; and when she desires to create a sensation, she goes about it skilfully at least, and does not look with disdain upon people who are dressed in an old-fas.h.i.+oned way, or whose toilet is slightly careless.--But what is that noise in the reception room? Has some virtuoso arrived? Has a sideboard been knocked over? The master of the house is hurrying in that direction, and we shall soon know what the matter is. Ah! I recognize that voice. It is Monsieur J----. Listen; you can easily hear him from here."

"Ah! my dear friend! I am terribly distressed to arrive so late! Upon my honor, I am covered with confusion! I don't know whether I ought to come in! I am dressed like a thief! I must hide in some corner!"

"Well," said my neighbor to me, "what do you think of this gentleman, who does not want to be seen, and who so declares in such a loud voice that he makes everybody in the salon turn his head?--Ah! he has made up his mind to come in, nevertheless."

I expected to see a young dandy, but I saw a man of between forty and fifty, with a light wig, come forward with a mincing step, bowing to right and to left and smiling almost agreeably.

"Who on earth is this man?" I asked my neighbor.

"Monsieur J---- is the universal man; he knows all Paris, he belongs to all the clubs, especially those where they have music. He plays three or four instruments; there is no amateur concert where he does not take part; nor is there an artiste who does not know him. You have had an opportunity of judging, by his method of entering this room, that his happiness consists in making a sensation; I do not draw from that fact a very favorable augury of his talents; for, as you know, merit is not in the habit of seeking a brilliant light. Mediocrity, on the contrary, makes a great deal of noise, thrusts itself forward, insists upon pervading everything, and always succeeds in dazzling fools.

"But I see a new face, that of a young man; he at least makes no noise; he comes in so softly that one can hardly hear him, he half bows, stands near the door, then creeps along the wall, and finally seizes a chair, upon which he seats himself very quickly, and from which he will not stir throughout the evening, I promise you. Poor fellow, he twists his mouth, winks and blinks, and does not know what to do with his hands. I will wager that he thinks that all the women are looking at him and discussing him. I have noticed, that as a general rule, timidity, yes, even awkwardness, often results from excessive self-consciousness: the fear of seeming ridiculous, or of not wearing a sufficiently fascinating expression, imparts that embarra.s.sment to the bearing, that almost comical expression to the face; if you wish to convince yourself of it, examine on the stage some _jeune premier_ who is rather good-looking, and who would act well, perhaps, if he were not engrossed entirely by his wig, his cravat, his att.i.tude, and the effect which his face is likely to produce in the hall."

My neighbor continued her observations; and I would gladly communicate them to you, reader, were it not that I am beginning to notice that you opened this volume, not to hear me talk with her, but to learn of the adventures of Brother Jacques.--A thousand pardons for taking you to a banker's salon. I return to the Cadran-Bleu.

You know now that the marriage of Edouard Murville is being celebrated there, that the bridegroom is twenty-five years old and a very good-looking fellow. But you do not yet know his wife, and I must hasten to repair my neglect in that respect; for she is lovely, sweet, attractive, and virtuous; it would be impossible to make her acquaintance too soon.

Adeline Germeuil was eighteen years old, and she possessed all those qualities which charm at first sight and attach one thereafter: beautiful eyes, fine teeth, graceful manners, a fresh complexion, wit unsullied by ill-temper, gaiety without coquetry, charm without affectation, modesty without timidity. She knew that she was pretty, but did not think that for that reason all men ought to do homage to her; she loved pleasure but did not make that her sole occupation. In short, she was a woman such as it is very pleasant to meet, especially when one is a bachelor.

Adeline was devoted to Edouard, to whom she had given preference over several much more advantageous offers, for Edouard's only fortune was the place which he occupied in one of the government departments, while Adeline had about fifteen thousand francs a year. But Mademoiselle Germeuil had no ambition, she considered happiness to consist in delights of the heart, and not in more or less wealth. Moreover, with fifteen thousand francs a year, one can live without privation, especially when one is the wife of a man of orderly habits, who knows how to regulate his household expenses. Now Murville seemed such a man, he seemed to have all the estimable qualities, and he carried the day.

Mademoiselle Germeuil had no parent but her mother, a most estimable woman, who adored her daughter and was never willing to thwart her desires. However, it was her duty to look after Adeline's future welfare; and so, as soon as she discovered her daughter's love for Edouard Murville, she made haste to seek information concerning the young man's moral character, and concerning his family.

She found that he was born of well-to-do parents; that his father had followed the profession of the law with honor, but that several successive failures had reduced the family to the strict necessaries of life. Edouard and Jacques were Monsieur Murville's only children.

Jacques was a year younger than Edouard; but Madame Murville had not divided her affections equally between her two sons. Edouard was the favorite. A circ.u.mstance, apparently most trivial, had influenced Madame Murville's sentiments; she had little intellect and a great deal of vanity; so that she was certain to set great store by all the petty, puerile things which are of such great weight in society. When she first became enceinte, she put her mind on the rack, to think what name she should give to her child. Her desire was to find a name which should be at once graceful, pleasant to the ear and distinguished; after long discussions and profound reflections, she decided upon Edouard for a boy, or Celenie for a girl, Monsieur Murville having left her entirely free to decide that question.

The first-born was a boy, and he received the name of Edouard, with all his mother's affection. When she became enceinte again, she did not doubt for an instant that she should bring into the world a pretty little Celenie; the birth of a daughter would have filled her cup to overflowing. But after long suffering, she brought into the world a bouncing boy.

It will be understood that this one was not so warmly received as the first. Moreover, they had not had the slightest expectation of a boy, and they had not decided what name he should bear. But this time any previous deliberation upon that subject would have been wasted, for Monsieur Murville informed his wife that a friend of his desired to be his son's G.o.dfather. This friend was very rich and they were under some obligation to him, so that they could not refuse him as G.o.dfather. So he held the child at the altar, and to the great scandal of Madame Murville, gave him the name of Jacques.

In truth, although Jacques is as good a name as another, it is not very melodious, and it offended the delicate ear of Madame Murville, who maintained that it was a name fit for a footman, a Savoyard, a messenger, and that it was a shame to call her son by it. In vain did her husband try to make her listen to reason, and recite to her again and again the history of Scotland, where the throne had been occupied by many Jacqueses. Madame Murville could never p.r.o.nounce that name without a sigh.

However, there was no way to change it, for the G.o.dfather, who was naturally called Jacques also, and who came often to see his G.o.dson, would have been deeply offended to hear him called by any other name.

So the little fellow remained Jacques, to the great distress of Madame Murville. As for Edouard, whether from a spirit of mischief on his part, or because the name pleased him, he called Brother Jacques every moment during the day; and when he had done anything naughty, he always s.h.i.+fted it to Brother Jacques's shoulders.

The two brothers were entirely different in disposition; Edouard placid, well-behaved, obliging, was glad to pa.s.s his day by his mother's side; Jacques, noisy, boisterous, quick-tempered, could not keep still, and never went anywhere without turning everything upside down.

Edouard learned readily what was told him; Jacques would throw his books and pens into the fire, and make a hoop or a wooden sword.

Finally, at sixteen, Edouard went into company with his parents; he had already learned to listen to conversation and to smile pleasantly at a pretty woman. At fifteen, Jacques left his parents' roof, and disappeared, leaving no letter behind, nothing to indicate his plans, or the purpose of his departure. They made all possible investigation and search; they put his description in the newspapers, but they never learned what had become of him; they waited for news of him, but none ever came.

Monsieur Murville was deeply grieved at the flight of the hare-brained young man; even Madame Murville herself realized that she was a mother, and that a boy might be named Jacques and still be her son; she repented of her unjust prejudice, she reproached herself for it, but it was too late. The unfortunate name had had its effect; it had closed to Jacques his mother's heart; it drew upon him the mockery of his brother; and perhaps all these causes combined had driven the young man from the home of his parents. Who knows? There is so much tossing to and fro in life!

"I caught the measles recently," said a young man to me yesterday, "because a man who makes shoes for a young lady friend of mine broke his spectacles."

"What connection is there?" said I, "between your measles and a shoemaker's spectacles?"

"It was like this, my dear fellow; the lady in question had given me her word to sing with me that evening at the house of one of our acquaintances. But she expected some pretty cherry slippers in the morning, to wear with a dress of that color; the shoemaker in question had broken his spectacles on the day that he took her measure, so that he brought her some slippers, which, though they were lovely, were too small. However, she could not resist the desire to try them on; they hurt a great deal, but the shoemaker a.s.sured her that they would be all right after she had worn them a while. Ladies think a great deal about having a small foot. She limped a little when she left the house; when she was on the boulevard, in the presence of some of her acquaintances, she did not wish to seem to be limping, so she exerted herself to walk lightly; but the foot became inflamed and swollen; she suffered horribly, and was obliged to return home. There she threw the infernal slippers aside, and examined her feet; they were raw and swollen, and she could not hope to go out for a week. I, knowing nothing about this, went to our rendezvous, expecting to employ my evening singing. I did not find the lady; the mistress of the house was alone; she is very agreeable, but she is forty years old. The time dragged terribly, I became impatient, and after waiting for an hour, I went out, having no idea where I should go. I pa.s.sed a theatre, went in mechanically, and solely to kill time, for I knew the plays by heart. I saw a pretty face, and instinctively took a seat beside it; I said a few words and she answered; she seemed fond of talking, and I was very glad to find an opportunity to amuse myself. At last the play came to an end and I offered my pretty talker my arm. After some slight parley she accepted; I escorted my fair conquest to her home and did not leave her until I had obtained permission to call upon her. I did not fail to do so the next day. In a word, I soon became an intimate friend, and in one of my visits I caught the measles, which the lady had, unknown to me. So you see, if the shoemaker hadn't broken his spectacles, it wouldn't have happened."

My young friend was right: the most important events are often caused by the most simple distractions, the most trivial circ.u.mstances. As for my hero, there is no doubt that his baptismal name exerted an influence over his whole destiny. How many men have owed to the splendors of a famous name, which their ancestors have transmitted to them, a degree of consideration which would never have been accorded their individuality!

Happy is the man who is able to make his own name famous, and to transmit it to posterity with glory. But happier perhaps is he who lives unknown, and whose name will never arouse hatred or envy!

Now you know the Murville family; it remains for me to tell you of the death of Edouard's father and mother, who followed each other to the tomb after a short interval, carrying with them their regret as to the fate of their son Jacques; and they enjoined upon Edouard to forgive him his escapade in their name, if he should ever find him.

Edouard was left master of his actions. He was twenty-two years old, and had a place worth two thousand francs a year; he could live respectably by behaving himself. He loved pleasure; but society, music, the theatre, offered him pleasures which cost him little; it never occurred to him to gamble. He was fond of ladies' society; but he was not bad-looking and had no reason to complain of their severity. He allowed himself to be led astray easily, and had not sufficient strength of character; but luckily for him, he was not intimate with men of dissolute habits. In a word, he could not be cited as a model to be followed, but on the other hand, he had no very great faults.

So that Madame Germeuil readily decided to give her Adeline to Edouard Murville.

"This young man will make my daughter happy," she said to herself; "he has not much strength of character; very good! then my dear child will be the mistress, and households where the wives rule are often the best conducted."

And that is why there was a wedding party at the Cadran-Bleu.

II

GREAT EVENTS CAUSED BY A JIG AND A SNUFF BOX

"How pretty she is! What a fine figure she has! What charm and freshness!" said the young men, and even the fathers, to one another, as they watched the bride and followed her every motion when she danced.

"Ah! what a lucky fellow that Edouard is!"