CHAPTER VI

      UNCLEMAURICE

      June7th,FourOclockA.M.

      Iamnotsurprisedathearing,whenIawake,thebirdssingingsojoyfullyoutsidemywindow;itisonlybyliving,astheyandIdo,inatopstory,thatonecomestoknowhowcheerfulthemorningsreallyareupamongtheroofs.Itistherethatthesunsendshisfirstrays,andthebreezecomeswiththefragranceofthegardensandwoods;therethatawanderingbutterflysometimesventuresamongtheflowersoftheattic,andthatthesongsoftheindustriouswork-womanwelcomethedawnofday.

      Thelowerstoriesarestilldeepinsleep,silence,andshadow,whileherelabor,light,andsongalreadyreign.

      Whatlifeisaroundme!Seetheswallowreturningfromhersearchforfood,withherbeakfullofinsectsforheryoungones;thesparrowsshakethedewfromtheirwingswhiletheychaseoneanotherinthesunshine;andmyneighborsthrowopentheirwindows,andwelcomethemorningwiththeirfreshfaces!Delightfulhourofwaking,wheneverythingreturnstofeelingandtomotion;whenthefirstlightofdaystrikesuponcreation,andbringsittolifeagain,asthemagicwandstruckthepalaceoftheSleepingBeautyinthewood!Itisamomentofrestfromeverymisery;thesufferingsofthesickareallayed,andabreathofhopeentersintotheheartsofthedespairing.But,alas!itisbutashortrespite!Everythingwillsoonresumeitswontedcourse:

      thegreathumanmachine,withitslongstrains,itsdeepgasps,itscollisions,anditscrashes,willbeagainputinmotion.

      Thetranquillityofthisfirstmorninghourremindsmeofthatofourfirstyearsoflife.Then,too,thesunshinesbrightly,theairisfragrant,andtheillusionsofyouth-thosebirdsofourlifesmorning-singaroundus.Whydotheyflyawaywhenweareolder?Wheredothissadnessandthissolitude,whichgraduallystealuponus,comefrom?Thecourseseemstobethesamewithindividualsandwithcommunities:atstarting,soreadilymadehappy,soeasilyenchanted;andatthegoal,thebitterdisappointmentorreality!Theroad,whichbeganamonghawthornsandprimroses,endsspeedilyindesertsorinprecipices!Whyistheresomuchconfidenceatfirst,somuchdoubtatlast?Has,then,theknowledgeoflifenootherendbuttomakeitunfitforhappiness?

      Mustwecondemnourselvestoignoranceifwewouldpreservehope?Istheworldandistheindividualmanintended,afterall,tofindrestonlyinaneternalchildhood?

      HowmanytimeshaveIaskedmyselfthesequestions!Solitudehastheadvantageorthedangerofmakinguscontinuallysearchmoredeeplyintothesameideas.Asourdiscourseisonlywithourself,wealwaysgivethesamedirectiontotheconversation;wearenotcalledtoturnittothesubjectwhichoccupiesanothermind,orinterestsanothersfeelings;andsoaninvoluntaryinclinationmakesusreturnforevertoknockatthesamedoors!

      Iinterruptedmyreflectionstoputmyatticinorder.Ihatethelookofdisorder,becauseitshowseitheracontemptfordetailsoranunaptnessforspirituallife.Toarrangethethingsamongwhichwehavetolive,istoestablishtherelationofpropertyandofusebetweenthemandus:itistolaythefoundationofthosehabitswithoutwhichmantendstothesavagestate.What,infact,issocialorganizationbutaseriesofhabits,settledinaccordancewiththedispositionsofournature?

      Idistrustboththeintellectandthemoralityofthosepeopletowhomdisorderisofnoconsequence——whocanliveateaseinanAugeanstable.

      Whatsurroundsus,reflectsmoreorlessthatwhichiswithinus.Themindislikeoneofthosedarklanternswhich,inspiteofeverything,stillthrowsomelightaround.Ifourtastesdidnotrevealourcharacter,theywouldbenolongertastes,butinstincts.

      WhileIwasarrangingeverythinginmyattic,myeyesrestedonthelittlealmanachangingovermychimney-piece.Ilookedforthedayofthemonth,andIsawthesewordswritteninlargeletters:"FETEDIEU!"

      Itisto-day!Inthisgreatcity,wheretherearenolongeranypublicreligioussolemnities,thereisnothingtoremindusofit;butitis,intruth,theperiodsohappilychosenbytheprimitivechurch."ThedaykeptinhonoroftheCreator,"saysChateaubriand,"happensatatimewhentheheavenandtheearthdeclareHispower,whenthewoodsandfieldsarefullofnewlife,andallareunitedbythehappiestties;thereisnotasinglewidowedplantinthefields."

      Whatrecollectionsthesewordshavejustawakened!IleftoffwhatIwasabout,Ileanedmyelbowsonthewindowsill,and,withmyheadbetweenmytwohands,Iwentbackinthoughttothelittletownwherethefirstdaysofmychildhoodwerepassed.

      TheFeteDieuwasthenoneofthegreateventsofmylife!Itwasnecessarytobediligentandobedientalongtimebeforehand,todeservetoshareinit.IstillrecollectwithwhatrapturesofexpectationIgotuponthemorningoftheday.Therewasaholyjoyintheair.Theneighbors,upearlierthanusual,hungclothswithflowersorfigures,workedintapestry,alongthestreets.Iwentfromonetoanother,byturnsadmiringreligiousscenesoftheMiddleAges,mythologicalcompositionsoftheRenaissance,oldbattlesinthestyleofLouisXIV,andtheArcadiasofMadamedePompadour.Allthisworldofphantomsseemedtobecomingforthfromthedustofpastages,toassist——silentandmotionless——attheholyceremony.Ilooked,alternatelyinfearandwonder,atthoseterriblewarriorswiththeirswordsalwaysraised,thosebeautifulhuntressesshootingthearrowwhichneverleftthebow,andthoseshepherdsinsatinbreechesalwaysplayingthefluteatthefeetoftheperpetuallysmilingshepherdess.Sometimes,whenthewindblewbehindthesehangingpictures,itseemedtomethatthefiguresthemselvesmoved,andIwatchedtoseethemdetachthemselvesfromthewall,andtaketheirplacesintheprocession!Buttheseimpressionswerevagueandtransitory.Thefeelingthatpredominatedovereveryotherwasthatofanoverflowingyetquietjoy.Inthemidstofallthefloatingdraperies,thescatteredflowers,thevoicesofthemaidens,andthegladnesswhich,likeaperfume,exhaledfromeverything,youfelttransportedinspiteofyourself.Thejoyfulsoundsofthefestivalwererepeatedinyourheart,inathousandmelodiousechoes.Youweremoreindulgent,moreholy,moreloving!ForGodwasnotonlymanifestinghimselfwithout,butalsowithinus.

      Andthenthealtarsfortheoccasion!thefloweryarbors!thetriumphalarchesmadeofgreenboughs!Whatcompetitionamongthedifferentparishesfortheerectionoftheresting-placeswheretheprocessionwastohalt!Itwaswhoshouldcontributetherarestandthemostbeautifulofhispossessions!

      ItwasthereImademyfirstsacrifice!

      Thewreathsofflowerswerearranged,thecandleslighted,andtheTabernacledressedwithroses;butonewaswantingfittocrownthewhole!Alltheneighboringgardenshadbeenransacked.Ialonepossessedaflowerworthyofsuchaplace.Itwasontherose-treegivenmebymymotheronmybirthday.Ihadwatcheditforseveralmonths,andtherewasnootherbudtoblowonthetree.Thereitwas,halfopen,initsmossynest,theobjectofsuchlongexpectations,andofallachildspride!Ihesitatedforsomemoments.Noonehadaskedmeforit;Imighteasilyavoidlosingit.Ishouldhearnoreproaches,butonerosenoiselesslywithinme.Wheneveryoneelsehadgivenalltheyhad,oughtIalonetokeepbackmytreasure?OughtItogrudgetoGodoneofthegiftswhich,likealltherest,Ihadreceivedfromhim?AtthislastthoughtIpluckedtheflowerfromthestem,andtookittoputatthetopoftheTabernacle.Ah!whydoestherecollectionofthissacrifice,whichwassohardandyetsosweettome,nowmakemesmile?

      Isitsocertainthatthevalueofagiftisinitself,ratherthanintheintention?Ifthecupofcoldwaterinthegospelisrememberedtothepoorman,whyshouldnottheflowerberememberedtothechild?Letusnotlookdownuponthechildssimpleactofgenerosity;itisthesewhichaccustomthesoultoself-denialandtosympathy.Icherishedthismoss-rosealongtimeasasacredtalisman;Ihadreasontocherishitalways,astherecordofthefirstvictorywonovermyself.

      ItisnowmanyyearssinceIwitnessedthecelebrationoftheFeteDieu;butshouldIagainfeelinitthehappysensationsofformerdays?

      Istillrememberhow,whentheprocessionhadpassed,Iwalkedthroughthestreetsstrewedwithflowersandshadedwithgreenboughs.Ifeltintoxicatedbythelingeringperfumesoftheincense,mixedwiththefragranceofsyringas,jessamine,androses,andIseemednolongertotouchthegroundasIwentalong.Ismiledateverything;thewholeworldwasParadiseinmyeyes,anditseemedtomethatGodwasfloatingintheair!

      Moreover,thisfeelingwasnottheexcitementofthemoment:itmightbemoreintenseoncertaindays,butatthesametimeitcontinuedthroughtheordinarycourseofmylife.Manyyearsthuspassedformeinanexpansionofheart,andatrustfulnesswhichpreventedsorrow,ifnotfromcoming,atleastfromstayingwithme.Sureofnotbeingalone,Isoontookheartagain,likethechildwhorecoversitscourage,becauseithearsitsmothersvoicecloseby.WhyhaveIlostthatconfidenceofmychildhood?ShallIneverfeelagainsodeeplythatGodishere?

      Howstrangetheassociationofourthoughts!Adayofthemonthrecallsmyinfancy,andsee,alltherecollectionsofmyformeryearsaregrowinguparoundme!WhywasIsohappythen?Iconsiderwell,andnothingissensiblychangedinmycondition.Ipossess,asIdidthen,healthandmydailybread;theonlydifferenceis,thatIamnowresponsibleformyself!Asachild,Iacceptedlifewhenitcame;anothercaredandprovidedforme.SolongasIfulfilledmypresentdutiesIwasatpeacewithin,andIleftthefuturetotheprudenceofmyfather!Mydestinywasaship,inthedirectingofwhichIhadnoshare,andinwhichIsailedasacommonpassenger.Therewasthewholesecretofchildhoodshappysecurity.Sincethenworldlywisdomhasdeprivedmeofit.Whenmylotwasintrustedtomyownandsolekeeping,Ithoughttomakemyselfmasterofitbymeansofalonginsightintothefuture.Ihavefilledthepresenthourwithanxieties,byoccupyingmythoughtswiththefuture;IhaveputmyjudgmentintheplaceofProvidence,andthehappychildischangedintotheanxiousman.

      Amelancholycourse,yetperhapsanimportantlesson.Whoknowsthat,ifIhadtrustedmoretoHimwhorulestheworld,Ishouldnothavebeensparedallthisanxiety?Itmaybethathappinessisnotpossibleherebelow,exceptonconditionoflivinglikeachild,givingourselvesuptothedutiesofeachdayasitcomes,andtrustinginthegoodnessofourheavenlyFatherforallbesides.

      ThisremindsmeofmyUncleMaurice!WheneverIhaveneedtostrengthenmyselfinallthatisgood,Iturnmythoughtstohim;Iseeagainthegentleexpressionofhishalf-smiling,half-mournfulface;Ihearhisvoice,alwayssoftandsoothingasabreathofsummer!Theremembranceofhimprotectsmylife,andgivesitlight.He,too,wasasaintandmartyrherebelow.Othershavepointedoutthepathofheaven;hehastaughtustoseethoseofeartharight.

      But,excepttheangels,whoarechargedwithnotingdownthesacrificesperformedinsecret,andthevirtueswhichareneverknown,whohaseverheardofmyUncleMaurice?PerhapsIalonerememberhisname,andstillrecallhishistory.

      Well!Iwillwriteit,notforothers,butformyself!Theysaythat,atthesightoftheApollo,thebodyerectsitselfandassumesamoredignifiedattitude:inthesameway,thesoulshouldfeelitselfraisedandennobledbytherecollectionofagoodmanslife!

      ArayoftherisingsunlightsupthelittletableonwhichIwrite;thebreezebringsmeinthescentofthemignonette,andtheswallowswheelaboutmywindowwithjoyfultwitterings.TheimageofmyUncleMauricewillbeinitsproperplaceamidthesongs,thesunshine,andthefragrance.

      Sevenoclock——Itiswithmenslivesaswithdays:somedawnradiantwithathousandcolors,othersdarkwithgloomyclouds.ThatofmyUncleMauricewasoneofthelatter.Hewassosickly,whenhecameintotheworld,thattheythoughthemustdie;butnotwithstandingtheseanticipations,whichmightbecalledhopes,hecontinuedtolive,sufferinganddeformed.

      Hewasdeprivedofalljoysaswellasofalltheattractionsofchildhood.Hewasoppressedbecausehewasweak,andlaughedatforhisdeformity.Invainthelittlehunchbackopenedhisarmstotheworld:

      theworldscoffedathim,andwentitsway.

      However,hestillhadhismother,anditwastoherthatthechilddirectedallthefeelingsofaheartrepelledbyothers.Withherhefoundshelter,andwashappy,tillhereachedtheagewhenamanmusttakehisplaceinlife;andMauricehadtocontenthimselfwiththatwhichothershadrefusedwithcontempt.Hiseducationwouldhavequalifiedhimforanycourseoflife;andhebecameanoctroi-clerk——[Theoctroiisthetaxonprovisionsleviedattheentranceofthetown]——inoneofthelittletoll-housesattheentranceofhisnativetown.

      Hewasalwaysshutupinthisdwellingofafewfeetsquare,withnorelaxationfromtheofficeaccountsbutreadingandhismothersvisits.

      Onfinesummerdaysshecametoworkatthedoorofhishut,undertheshadeofaclematisplantedbyMaurice.And,evenwhenshewassilent,herpresencewasapleasantchangeforthehunchback;heheardtheclinkingofherlongknitting-needles;hesawhermildandmournfulprofile,whichremindedhimofsomanycourageously-bornetrials;hecouldeverynowandthenresthishandaffectionatelyonthatbowedneck,andexchangeasmilewithher!

      Thiscomfortwassoontobetakenfromhim.Hisoldmotherfellsick,andattheendofafewdayshehadtogiveupallhope.Mauricewasovercomeattheideaofaseparationwhichwouldhenceforthleavehimaloneonearth,andabandonedhimselftoboundlessgrief.Hekneltbythebedsideofthedyingwoman,hecalledherbythefondestnames,hepressedherinhisarms,asifhecouldsokeepherinlife.Hismothertriedtoreturnhiscaresses,andtoanswerhim;butherhandswerecold,hervoicewasalreadygone.Shecouldonlypressherlipsagainsttheforeheadofherson,heaveasigh,andclosehereyesforever!

      TheytriedtotakeMauriceaway,butheresistedthemandthrewhimselfonthatnowmotionlessform.

      "Dead!"criedhe;"dead!Shewhohadneverleftme,shewhowastheonlyoneintheworldwholovedme!You,mymother,dead!Whatthenremainsformeherebelow?"

      Astifledvoicereplied:

      "God!"

      Maurice,startled,raisedhimself!Wasthatalastsighfromthedead,orhisownconscience,thathadansweredhim?Hedidnotseektoknow,butheunderstoodtheanswer,andacceptedit.

      ItwasthenthatIfirstknewhim.Ioftenwenttoseehiminhislittletoll-house.Hejoinedinmychildishgames,toldmehisfineststories,andletmegatherhisflowers.Deprivedashewasofallexternalattractiveness,heshowedhimselffullofkindnesstoallwhocametohim,and,thoughheneverwouldputhimselfforward,hehadawelcomeforeveryone.Deserted,despised,hesubmittedtoeverythingwithagentlepatience;andwhilehewasthusstretchedonthecrossoflife,amidtheinsultsofhisexecutioners,herepeatedwithChrist,"Father,forgivethem,fortheyknownotwhattheydo."

      Nootherclerkshowedsomuchhonesty,zeal,andintelligence;butthosewhootherwisemighthavepromotedhimashisservicesdeservedwererepelledbyhisdeformity.Ashehadnopatrons,hefoundhisclaimswerealwaysdisregarded.Theypreferredbeforehimthosewhowerebetterabletomakethemselvesagreeable,andseemedtobegrantinghimafavorwhenlettinghimkeepthehumbleofficewhichenabledhimtolive.UncleMauriceboreinjusticeashehadbornecontempt;unfairlytreatedbymen,heraisedhiseyeshigher,andtrustedinthejusticeofHimwhocannotbedeceived.

      Helivedinanoldhouseinthesuburb,wheremanywork-people,aspoorbutnotasforlornashe,alsolodged.Amongtheseneighborstherewasasinglewoman,wholivedbyherselfinalittlegarret,intowhichcamebothwindandrain.Shewasayounggirl,pale,silent,andwithnothingtorecommendherbutherwretchednessandherresignationtoit.Shewasneverseenspeakingtoanyotherwoman,andnosongcheeredhergarret.

      Sheworkedwithoutinterestandwithoutrelaxation;adepressinggloomseemedtoenvelopherlikeashroud.HerdejectionaffectedMaurice;heattemptedtospeaktoher;sherepliedmildly,butinfewwords.Itwaseasytoseethatshepreferredhersilenceandhersolitudetothelittlehunchbacksgood-will;heperceivedit,andsaidnomore.

      ButToinettesneedlewashardlysufficientforhersupport,andpresentlyworkfailedher!Mauricelearnedthatthepoorgirlwasinwantofeverything,andthatthetradesmenrefusedtogivehercredit.

      HeimmediatelywenttothemprivatelyandengagedtopaythemforwhattheysuppliedToinettewith.

      Thingswentoninthiswayforseveralmonths.Theyoungdressmakercontinuedoutofwork,untilshewasatlastfrightenedatthebillsshehadcontractedwiththeshopkeepers.Whenshecametoanexplanationwiththem,everythingwasdiscovered.HerfirstimpulsewastoruntoUncleMaurice,andthankhimonherknees.Herhabitualreservehadgivenwaytoaburstofdeepestfeeling.Itseemedasifgratitudehadmeltedalltheiceofthatnumbedheart.

      Beingnownolongerembarrassedwithasecret,thelittlehunchbackcouldgivegreaterefficacytohisgoodoffices.Toinettebecametohimasister,forwhosewantshehadarighttoprovide.Itwasthefirsttimesincethedeathofhismotherthathehadbeenabletosharehislifewithanother.Theyoungwomanreceivedhisattentionswithfeeling,butwithreserve.AllMauriceseffortswereinsufficienttodispelhergloom:sheseemedtouchedbyhiskindness,andsometimesexpressedhersenseofitwithwarmth;butthereshestopped.Herheartwasaclosedbook,whichthelittlehunchbackmightbendover,butcouldnotread.Intruthhecaredlittletodoso;hegavehimselfuptothehappinessofbeingnolongeralone,andtookToinettesuchasherlongtrialshadmadeher;helovedherasshewas,andwishedfornothingelsebutstilltoenjoyhercompany.

      Thisthoughtinsensiblytookpossessionofhismind,totheexclusionofallbesides.Thepoorgirlwasasforlornashimself;shehadbecomeaccustomedtothedeformityofthehunchback,andsheseemedtolookonhimwithanaffectionatesympathy!Whatmorecouldhewishfor?Untilthen,thehopesofmakinghimselfacceptabletoahelpmatehadbeenrepelledbyMauriceasadream;butchanceseemedwillingtomakeitareality.Aftermuchhesitationhetookcourage,anddecidedtospeaktoher.

      Itwasevening;thelittlehunchback,inmuchagitation,directedhisstepstowardthework-womansgarretjustashewasabouttoenter,hethoughtheheardastrangevoicepronouncingthemaidensname.Hequicklypushedopenthedoor,andperceivedToinetteweeping,andleaningontheshoulderofayoungmaninthedressofasailor.

      Atthesightofmyuncle,shedisengagedherselfquickly,andrantohim,cryingout:

      "Ah!comein——comein!ItishethatIthoughtwasdead:itisJulien;itismybetrothed!"

      Mauricetottered,anddrewback.Asinglewordhadtoldhimall!

      Itseemedtohimasifthegroundshookandhisheartwasabouttobreak;butthesamevoicethathehadheardbyhismothersdeathbedagainsoundedinhisears,andhesoonrecoveredhimself.Godwasstillhisfriend!

      Hehimselfaccompaniedthenewly-marriedpairontheroadwhentheyleftthetown,and,afterwishingthemallthehappinesswhichwasdeniedtohim,hereturnedwithresignationtotheoldhouseinthesuburb.

      Itwastherethatheendedhislife,forsakenbymen,butnotashesaidbytheFatherwhichisinheaven.HefeltHispresenceeverywhere;itwastohimintheplaceofallelse.Whenhedied,itwaswithasmile,andlikeanexilesettingoutforhisowncountry.Hewhohadconsoledhiminpovertyandill-health,whenhewassufferingfrominjusticeandforsakenbyall,hadmadedeathagainandblessingtohim.

      Eightoclock——AllIhavejustwrittenhaspainedme!TillnowIhavelookedintolifeforinstructionhowtolive.Isitthentruethathumanmaximsarenotalwayssufficient?thatbeyondgoodness,prudence,moderation,humility,self-sacrificeitself,thereisonegreattruth,whichalonecanfacegreatmisfortunes?andthat,ifmanhasneedofvirtuesforothers,hehasneedofreligionforhimself?

      When,inyouth,wedrinkourwinewithamerryheart,astheScriptureexpressesit,wethinkwearesufficientforourselves;strong,happy,andbeloved,webelieve,likeAjax,weshallbeabletoescapeeverystorminspiteofthegods.Butlaterinlife,whenthebackisbowed,whenhappinessprovesafadingflower,andtheaffectionsgrowchill-then,infearofthevoidandthedarkness,westretchoutourarms,likethechildovertakenbynight,andwecallforhelptoHimwhoiseverywhere.

      Iwasaskingthismorningwhythisgrowingconfusionalikeforsocietyandfortheindividual?Invaindoeshumanreasonfromhourtohourlightsomenewtorchontheroadside:thenightcontinuestogroweverdarker!IsitnotbecausewearecontenttowithdrawfartherandfartherfromGod,theSunofspirits?

      Butwhatdothesehermitsreveriessignifytotheworld?Theinwardturmoilsofmostmenarestifledbytheoutwardones;lifedoesnotgivethemtimetoquestionthemselves.Havetheytimetoknowwhattheyare,andwhattheyshouldbe,whosewholethoughtsareinthenextleaseorthelastpriceofstock?Heavenisveryhigh,andwisemenlookonlyattheearth.

      ButI——poorsavageamidallthiscivilization,whoseekneitherpowernorriches,andwhohavefoundinmyownthoughtsthehomeandshelterofmyspirit——Icangobackwithimpunitytotheserecollectionsofmychildhood;and,ifthisourgreatcitynolongerhonorsthenameofGodwithafestival,IwillstrivestilltokeepthefeasttoHiminmyheart.