The Lesser Bourgeoisie Part 8

When la Peyrade presented himself, the family were all together. Madame Barniol was just telling her mother about one of her babies, which was slightly indisposed. They were dressed in their Sunday clothes, and were sitting before the fireplace of the wainscoted salon on chairs bought at a bargain; and they all felt an emotion when Genevieve, the cook and portress, announced the personage of whom they were just then speaking in connection with Celeste, whom, we must here state, Felix Ph.e.l.lion loved, to the extent of going to ma.s.s to behold her. The learned mathematician had made that effort in the morning, and the family were joking him about it in a pleasant way, hoping in their hearts that Celeste and her parents might understand the treasure that was thus offered to them.

"Alas! the Thuilliers seem to me infatuated with a very dangerous man,"

said Madame Ph.e.l.lion. "He took Madame Colleville by the arm this morning after church, and they went together to the Luxembourg."

"There is something about that lawyer," remarked Felix Ph.e.l.lion, "that strikes me as sinister. He might be found to have committed some crime and I shouldn't be surprised."

"That's going too far," said old Ph.e.l.lion. "He is cousin-germain to Tartuffe, that immortal figure cast in bronze by our honest Moliere; for Moliere, my children, had honesty and patriotism for the basis of his genius."

It was at that instant that Genevieve came in to say, "There's a Monsieur de la Peyrade out there, who wants to see monsieur."

"To see me!" exclaimed Ph.e.l.lion. "Ask him to come in," he added, with that solemnity in little things which gave him even now a touch of absurdity, though it always impressed his family, which accepted him as king.

Ph.e.l.lion, his two sons, and his wife and daughter, rose and received the circular bow made by the lawyer.

"To what do we owe the honor of your visit, monsieur?" asked Ph.e.l.lion, stiffly.

"To your importance in this arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, my dear Monsieur Ph.e.l.lion, and to public interests," replied Theodose.

"Then let us go into my study," said Ph.e.l.lion.

"No, no, my friend," said the rigid Madame Ph.e.l.lion, a small woman, flat as a flounder, who retained upon her features the grim severity with which she taught music in boarding-schools for young ladies; "we will leave you."

An upright Erard piano, placed between the two windows and opposite to the fireplace, showed the constant occupation of a proficient.

"Am I so unfortunate as to put you to flight?" said Theodose, smiling in a kindly way at the mother and daughter. "You have a delightful retreat here," he continued. "You only lack a pretty daughter-in-law to pa.s.s the rest of your days in this 'aurea mediocritas,' the wish of the Latin poet, surrounded by family joys. Your antecedents, my dear Monsieur Ph.e.l.lion, ought surely to win you such rewards, for I am told that you are not only a patriot but a good citizen."

"Monsieur," said Ph.e.l.lion, embarra.s.sed, "monsieur, I have only done my duty." At the word "daughter-in-law," uttered by Theodose, Madame Barniol, who resembled her mother as much as one drop of water is like another, looked at Madame Ph.e.l.lion and at Felix as if she would say, "Were we mistaken?"

The desire to talk this incident over carried all four personages into the garden, for, in March, 1840, the weather was spring-like, at least in Paris.

"Commander," said Theodose, as soon as he was alone with Ph.e.l.lion, who was always flattered by that t.i.tle, "I have come to speak to you about the election--"

"Yes, true; we are about to nominate a munic.i.p.al councillor," said Ph.e.l.lion, interrupting him.

"And it is apropos of that candidacy that I have come to disturb your Sunday joys; but perhaps in so doing we shall not go beyond the limits of the family circle."

It would be impossible for Ph.e.l.lion to be more Ph.e.l.lion than Theodose was Ph.e.l.lion at that moment.

"I shall not let you say another word," replied the commander, profiting by the pause made by Theodose, who watched for the effect of his speech.

"My choice is made."

"We have had the same idea!" exclaimed Theodose; "men of the same character agree as well as men of the same mind."

"In this case I do not believe in that phenomenon," replied Ph.e.l.lion.

"This arrondiss.e.m.e.nt had for its representative in the munic.i.p.al council the most virtuous of men, as he was the n.o.blest of magistrates. I allude to the late Monsieur Popinot, the deceased judge of the Royal courts.

When the question of replacing him came up, his nephew, the heir to his benevolence, did not reside in this quarter. He has since, however, purchased, and now occupies, the house where his uncle lived in the rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Genevieve; he is the physician of the Ecole Polytechnique and that of our hospitals; he does honor to this quarter; for these reasons, and to pay homage in the person of the nephew to the memory of the uncle, we have decided to nominate Doctor Horace Bianchon, member of the Academy of Sciences, as you are aware, and one of the most distinguished young men in the ill.u.s.trious faculty of Paris. A man is not great in our eyes solely because he is celebrated; to my mind the late Councillor Popinot was almost another Saint Vincent de Paul."

"But a doctor is not an administrator," replied Theodose; "and, besides, I have come to ask your vote for a man to whom your dearest interests require that you should sacrifice a predilection, which, after all, is quite unimportant to the public welfare."

"Monsieur!" cried Ph.e.l.lion, rising and striking an att.i.tude like that of Lafon in "Le Glorieux," "Do you despise me sufficiently to suppose that my personal interests could ever influence my political conscience? When a matter concerns the public welfare, I am a citizen--nothing more, and nothing less."

Theodose smiled to himself at the thought of the battle which was now to take place between the father and the citizen.

"Do not bind yourself to your present ideas, I entreat you," he said, "for this matter concerns the happiness of your dear Felix."

"What do you mean by those words?" asked Ph.e.l.lion, stopping short in the middle of the salon and posing, with his hand thrust through the bosom of his waistcoat from right to left, in the well-known att.i.tude of Odilon Barrot.

"I have come in behalf of our mutual friend, the worthy and excellent Monsieur Thuillier, whose influence on the destiny of that beautiful Celeste Colleville must be well known to you. If, as I think, your son, whose merits are incontestable, and of whom both families may well be proud, if, I say, he is courting Celeste with a view to a marriage in which all expediencies may be combined, you cannot do more to promote that end than to obtain Thuillier's eternal grat.i.tude by proposing your worthy friend to the suffrages of your fellow-citizens. As for me, though I have lately come into the quarter, I can, thanks to the influence I enjoy through certain legal benefits done to the poor, materially advance his interests. I might, perhaps, have put myself forward for this position; but serving the poor brings in but little money; and, besides, the modesty of my life is out of keeping with such distinctions. I have devoted myself, monsieur, to the service of the weak, like the late Councillor Popinot,--a sublime man, as you justly remarked. If I had not already chosen a career which is in some sort monastic, and precludes all idea of marriage and public office, my taste, my second vocation, would lead me to the service of G.o.d, to the Church. I do not trumpet what I do, like the philanthropists; I do not write about it; I simply act; I am pledged to Christian charity. The ambition of our friend Thuillier becoming known to me, I have wished to contribute to the happiness of two young people who seem to me made for each other, by suggesting to you the means of winning the rather cold heart of Monsieur Thuillier."

Ph.e.l.lion was bewildered by this tirade, admirably delivered; he was dazzled, attracted; but he remained Ph.e.l.lion; he walked up to the lawyer and held out his hand, which la Peyrade took.

"Monsieur," said the commander, with emotion, "I have misjudged you.

What you have done me the honor to confide to me will die _there_,"

laying his hand on his heart. "You are one of the men of whom we have too few,--men who console us for many evils inherent in our social state. Righteousness is seen so seldom that our too feeble natures distrust appearances. You have in me a friend, if you will allow me the honor of a.s.suming that t.i.tle. But you must learn to know me, monsieur.

I should lose my own esteem if I nominated Thuillier. No, my son shall never own his happiness to an evil action on his father's part. I shall not change my candidate because my son's interests demand it. That is civic virtue, monsieur."

La Peyrade pulled out his handkerchief and rubbed it in his eye so that it drew a tear, as he said, holding out his hand to Ph.e.l.lion, and turning aside his head:--

"Ah! monsieur, how sublime a struggle between public and private duty!

Had I come here only to see this sight, my visit would not have been wasted. You cannot do otherwise! In your place, I should do the same.

You are that n.o.blest thing that G.o.d has made--a righteous man! a citizen of the Jean-Jacques type! With many such citizens, oh France!

my country! what mightest thou become! It is I, monsieur, who solicit, humbly, the honor to be your friend."

"What can be happening?" said Madame Ph.e.l.lion, watching the scene through the window. "Do see your father and that horrid man embracing each other."

Ph.e.l.lion and la Peyrade now came out and joined the family in the garden.

"My dear Felix," said the old man, pointing to la Peyrade, who was bowing to Madame Ph.e.l.lion, "be very grateful to that admirable young man; he will prove most useful to you."

The lawyer walked for about five minutes with Madame Barniol and Madame Ph.e.l.lion beneath the leafless lindens, and gave them (in consequence of the embarra.s.sing circ.u.mstances created by Ph.e.l.lion's political obstinacy) a piece of advice, the effects of which were to bear fruit that evening, while its first result was to make both ladies admire his talents, his frankness, and his inappreciable good qualities. When the lawyer departed the whole family conducted him to the street gate, and all eyes followed him until he had turned the corner of the rue du Faubourg-Saint-Jacques. Madame Ph.e.l.lion then took the arm of her husband to return to the salon, saying:--

"Hey! my friend! what does this mean? You, such a good father, how can you, from excessive delicacy, stand in the way of such a fine marriage for our Felix?"

"My dear," replied Ph.e.l.lion, "the great men of antiquity, Brutus and others, were never fathers when called upon to be citizens. The bourgeoisie has, even more than the aristocracy whose place it has been called upon to take, the obligations of the highest virtues. Monsieur de Saint-Hilaire did not think of his lost arm in presence of the dead Turenne. We must give proof of our worthiness; let us give it at every state of the social hierarchy. Shall I instruct my family in the highest civic principles only to ignore them myself at the moment for applying them? No, my dear; weep, if you must, to-day, but to-morrow you will respect me," he added, seeing tears in the eyes of his starched better half.

These n.o.ble words were said on the sill of the door, above which was written, "Aurea mediocritas."

"I ought to have put, 'et digna,'" added Ph.e.l.lion, pointing to the tablet, "but those two words would imply self-praise."

"Father," said Marie-Theodore Ph.e.l.lion, the future engineer of "ponts et chaussees," when the family were once more seated in the salon, "it seems to me that there is nothing dishonorable in changing one's determination about a choice which is of no real consequence to public welfare."

"No consequence, my son!" cried Ph.e.l.lion. "Between ourselves I will say, and Felix shares my opinion, Monsieur Thuillier is absolutely without capacity; he knows nothing. Monsieur Horace Bianchon is an able man; he will obtain a thousand things for our arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, and Thuillier will obtain none! Remember this, my son; to change a good determination for a bad one from motives of self-interest is one of those infamous actions which escape the control of men but are punished by G.o.d. I am, or I think I am, void of all blame before my conscience, and I owe it to you, my children, to leave my memory unstained among you. Nothing, therefore, can make me change my determination."

"Oh, my good father!" cried the little Barniol woman, flinging herself on a cus.h.i.+on at Ph.e.l.lion's knees, "don't ride your high horse! There are many fools and idiots in the munic.i.p.al council, and France gets along all the same. That old Thuillier will adopt the opinions of those about him. Do reflect that Celeste will probably have five hundred thousand francs."

"She might have millions," said Ph.e.l.lion, "and I might see them there at my feet before I would propose Thuillier, when I owe to the memory of the best of men to nominate, if possible, Horace Bianchon, his nephew.

From the heaven above us Popinot is contemplating and applauding me!"

cried Ph.e.l.lion, with exaltation. "It is by such considerations as you suggest that France is being lowered, and the bourgeoisie are bringing themselves into contempt."