CHAPTER IV. THE EDUCATION OF A PHILOSOPHER.
The installation of the adopted stable-boy was thus happily effected, andthe wheels of life continued to run smoothly in the Doctor's house. Jean-Marie did his horse and carriage duty in the morning; sometimes helped inthe housework; sometimes walked abroad with the Doctor, to drink wisdomfrom the fountain-head; and was introduced at night to the sciences andthe dead tongues. He retained his singular placidity of mind and manner;he was rarely in fault; but he made only a very partial progress in hisstudies, and remained much of a stranger in the family.
The Doctor was a pattern of regularity. All forenoon he worked on hisgreat book, the 'Comparative Pharmacopoeia, or Historical Dictionary ofall Medicines,' which as yet consisted principally of slips of paper andpins. When finished, it was to fill many personable volumes, and tocombine antiquarian interest with professional utility. But the Doctorwas studious of literary graces and the picturesque; an anecdote, a touchof manners, a moral qualification, or a sounding epithet was sure to bepreferred before a piece of science; a little more, and he would havewritten the 'Comparative Pharmacopoeia' in verse! The article 'Mummia,'for instance, was already complete, though the remainder of the work hadnot progressed beyond the letter A. It was exceedingly copious andentertaining, written with quaintness and colour, exact, erudite, aliterary article; but it would hardly have afforded guidance to apractising physician of to-day. The feminine good sense of his wife hadled her to point this out with uncompromising sincerity; for theDictionary was duly read aloud to her, betwixt sleep and waning, as itproceeded towards an infinitely distant completion; and the Doctor was alittle sore on the subject of mummies, and sometimes resented an allusionwith asperity.
After the midday meal and a proper period of digestion, he walked,sometimes alone, sometimes accompanied by Jean-Marie; for madame wouldhave preferred any hardship rather than walk.
She was, as I have said, a very busy person, continually occupied aboutmaterial comforts, and ready to drop asleep over a novel the instant shewas disengaged. This was the less objectionable, as she never snored orgrew distempered in complexion when she slept. On the contrary, shelooked the very picture of luxurious and appetising ease, and wokewithout a start to the perfect possession of her faculties. I am afraidshe was greatly an animal, but she was a very nice animal to have about.In this way, she had little to do with Jean-Marie; but the sympathy whichhad been established between them on the first night remained unbroken;they held occasional conversations, mostly on household matters; to theextreme disappointment of the Doctor, they occasionally sallied offtogether to that temple of debasing superstition, the village church;madame and he, both in their Sunday's best, drove twice a month toFontainebleau and returned laden with purchases; and in short, althoughthe Doctor still continued to regard them as irreconcilablyanti-pathetic, their relation was as intimate, friendly, and confidentialas their natures suffered.
I fear, however, that in her heart of hearts, madame kindly despised andpitied the boy. She had no admiration for his class of virtues; sheliked a smart, polite, forward, roguish sort of boy, cap in hand, lightof foot, meeting the eye; she liked volubility, charm, a little vice--thepromise of a second Doctor Desprez. And it was her indefeasible beliefthat Jean-Marie was dull. 'Poor dear boy,' she had said once, 'how sadit is that he should be so stupid!' She had never repeated that remark,for the Doctor had raged like a wild bull, denouncing the brutalbluntness of her mind, bemoaning his own fate to be so unequally matedwith an ass, and, what touched Anastasie more nearly, menacing the tablechina by the fury of his gesticulations. But she adhered silently to heropinion; and when Jean-Marie was sitting, stolid, blank, but not unhappy,over his unfinished tasks, she would snatch her opportunity in theDoctor's absence, go over to him, put her arms about his neck, lay hercheek to his, and communicate her sympathy with his distress. 'Do notmind,' she would say; 'I, too, am not at all clever, and I can assure youthat it makes no difference in life.'
The Doctor's view was naturally different. That gentleman never weariedof the sound of his own voice, which was, to say the truth, agreeableenough to hear. He now had a listener, who was not so cynicallyindifferent as Anastasie, and who sometimes put him on his mettle by themost relevant objections. Besides, was he not educating the boy? Andeducation, philosophers are agreed, is the most philosophical of duties.What can be more heavenly to poor mankind than to have one's hobby growinto a duty to the State? Then, indeed, do the ways of life become waysof pleasantness. Never had the Doctor seen reason to be more contentwith his endowments. Philosophy flowed smoothly from his lips. He wasso agile a dialectician that he could trace his nonsense, whenchallenged, back to some root in sense, and prove it to be a sort offlower upon his system. He slipped out of antinomies like a fish, andleft his disciple marvelling at the rabbi's depth.
Moreover, deep down in his heart the Doctor was disappointed with the ill-success of his more formal education. A boy, chosen by so acute anobserver for his aptitude, and guided along the path of learning by sophilosophic an instructor, was bound, by the nature of the universe, tomake a more obvious and lasting advance. Now Jean-Marie was slow in allthings, impenetrable in others; and his power of forgetting was fully ona level with his power to learn. Therefore the Doctor cherished hisperipatetic lectures, to which the boy attended, which he generallyappeared to enjoy, and by which he often profited.
Many and many were the talks they had together; and health and moderationproved the subject of the Doctor's divagations. To these he lovinglyreturned.
'I lead you,' he would say, 'by the green pastures. My system, mybeliefs, my medicines, are resumed in one phrase--to avoid excess.Blessed nature, healthy, temperate nature, abhors and exterminatesexcess. Human law, in this matter, imitates at a great distance herprovisions; and we must strive to supplement the efforts of the law. Yes,boy, we must be a law to ourselves and for ourselves and for ourneighbours--lex armata--armed, emphatic, tyrannous law. If you see acrapulous human ruin snuffing, dash from him his box! The judge, thoughin a way an admission of disease, is less offensive to me than either thedoctor or the priest. Above all the doctor--the doctor and the purulenttrash and garbage of his pharmacopoeia! Pure air--from the neighbourhoodof a pinetum for the sake of the turpentine--unadulterated wine, and thereflections of an unsophisticated spirit in the presence of the works ofnature--these, my boy, are the best medical appliances and the bestreligious comforts. Devote yourself to these. Hark! there are the bellsof Bourron (the wind is in the north, it will be fair). How clear andairy is the sound! The nerves are harmonised and quieted; the mindattuned to silence; and observe how easily and regularly beats the heart!Your unenlightened doctor would see nothing in these sensations; and yetyou yourself perceive they are a part of health.--Did you remember yourcinchona this morning? Good. Cinchona also is a work of nature; it is,after all, only the bark of a tree which we might gather for ourselves ifwe lived in the locality.--What a world is this! Though a professedatheist, I delight to bear my testimony to the world. Look at thegratuitous remedies and pleasures that surround our path! The river runsby the garden end, our bath, our fishpond, our natural system ofdrainage. There is a well in the court which sends up sparkling waterfrom the earth's very heart, clean, cool, and, with a little wine, mostwholesome. The district is notorious for its salubrity; rheumatism isthe only prevalent complaint, and I myself have never had a touch of it.I tell you--and my opinion is based upon the coldest, clearest processesof reason--if I, if you, desired to leave this home of pleasures, itwould be the duty, it would be the privilege, of our best friend toprevent us with a pistol bullet.'
One beautiful June day they sat upon the hill outside the village. Theriver, as blue as heaven, shone here and there among the foliage. Theindefatigable birds turned and flickered about Gretz church tower. Ahealthy wind blew from over the forest, and the sound of innumerablethousands of tree-tops and innumerable millions on millions of greenleaves was abroad
in the air, and filled the ear with something betweenwhispered speech and singing. It seemed as if every blade of grass musthide a cigale; and the fields rang merrily with their music, jingling farand near as with the sleigh-bells of the fairy queen. From their stationon the slope the eye embraced a large space of poplar'd plain upon theone hand, the waving hill-tops of the forest on the other, and Gretzitself in the middle, a handful of roofs. Under the bestriding arch ofthe blue heavens, the place seemed dwindled to a toy. It seemedincredible that people dwelt, and could find room to turn or air tobreathe, in such a corner of the world. The thought came home to theboy, perhaps for the first time, and he gave it words.
'How small it looks!' he sighed.
'Ay,' replied the Doctor, 'small enough now. Yet it was once a walledcity; thriving, full of furred burgesses and men in armour, humming withaffairs;--with tall spires, for aught that I know, and portly towersalong the battlements. A thousand chimneys ceased smoking at the curfewbell. There were gibbets at the gate as thick as scarecrows. In time ofwar, the assault swarmed against it with ladders, the arrows fell likeleaves, the defenders sallied hotly over the drawbridge, each sideuttered its cry as they plied their weapons. Do you know that the wallsextended as far as the Commanderie? Tradition so reports. Alas, what along way off is all this confusion--nothing left of it but my quiet wordsspoken in your ear--and the town itself shrunk to the hamlet underneathus! By-and-by came the English wars--you shall hear more of the English,a stupid people, who sometimes blundered into good--and Gretz was taken,sacked, and burned. It is the history of many towns; but Gretz neverrose again; it was never rebuilt; its ruins were a quarry to serve thegrowth of rivals; and the stones of Gretz are now erect along the streetsof Nemours. It gratifies me that our old house was the first to riseafter the calamity; when the town had come to an end, it inaugurated thehamlet.'
'I, too, am glad of that,' said Jean-Marie.
'It should be the temple of the humbler virtues,' responded the Doctorwith a savoury gusto. 'Perhaps one of the reasons why I love my littlehamlet as I do, is that we have a similar history, she and I. Have Itold you that I was once rich?'
'I do not think so,' answered Jean-Marie. 'I do not think I should haveforgotten. I am sorry you should have lost your fortune.'
'Sorry?' cried the Doctor. 'Why, I find I have scarce begun youreducation after all. Listen to me! Would you rather live in the oldGretz or in the new, free from the alarms of war, with the green countryat the door, without noise, passports, the exactions of the soldiery, orthe jangle of the curfew-bell to send us off to bed by sundown?'
'I suppose I should prefer the new,' replied the boy.
'Precisely,' returned the Doctor; 'so do I. And, in the same way, Iprefer my present moderate fortune to my former wealth. Goldenmediocrity! cried the adorable ancients; and I subscribe to theirenthusiasm. Have I not good wine, good food, good air, the fields andthe forest for my walk, a house, an admirable wife, a boy whom I protestI cherish like a son? Now, if I were still rich, I should indubitablymake my residence in Paris--you know Paris--Paris and Paradise are notconvertible terms. This pleasant noise of the wind streaming amongleaves changed into the grinding Babel of the street, the stupid glare ofplaster substituted for this quiet pattern of greens and greys, thenerves shattered, the digestion falsified--picture the fall! Already youperceive the consequences; the mind is stimulated, the heart steps to adifferent measure, and the man is himself no longer. I have passionatelystudied myself--the true business of philosophy. I know my character asthe musician knows the ventages of his flute. Should I return to Paris,I should ruin myself gambling; nay, I go further--I should break theheart of my Anastasie with infidelities.'
This was too much for Jean-Marie. That a place should so transform themost excellent of men transcended his belief. Paris, he protested, waseven an agreeable place of residence. 'Nor when I lived in that city didI feel much difference,' he pleaded.
'What!' cried the Doctor. 'Did you not steal when you were there?'
But the boy could never be brought to see that he had done anything wrongwhen he stole. Nor, indeed, did the Doctor think he had; but thatgentleman was never very scrupulous when in want of a retort.
'And now,' he concluded, 'do you begin to understand? My only friendswere those who ruined me. Gretz has been my academy, my sanatorium, myheaven of innocent pleasures. If millions are offered me, I wave themback: _Retro_, _Sathanas_!--Evil one, begone! Fix your mind on myexample; despise riches, avoid the debasing influence of cities.Hygiene--hygiene and mediocrity of fortune--these be your watchwordsduring life!'
The Doctor's system of hygiene strikingly coincided with his tastes; andhis picture of the perfect life was a faithful description of the one hewas leading at the time. But it is easy to convince a boy, whom yousupply with all the facts for the discussion. And besides, there was onething admirable in the philosophy, and that was the enthusiasm of thephilosopher. There was never any one more vigorously determined to bepleased; and if he was not a great logician, and so had no right toconvince the intellect, he was certainly something of a poet, and had afascination to seduce the heart. What he could not achieve in hiscustomary humour of a radiant admiration of himself and hiscircumstances, he sometimes effected in his fits of gloom.
'Boy,' he would say, 'avoid me to-day. If I were superstitious, I shouldeven beg for an interest in your prayers. I am in the black fit; theevil spirit of King Saul, the hag of the merchant Abudah, the personaldevil of the mediaeval monk, is with me--is in me,' tapping on hisbreast. 'The vices of my nature are now uppermost; innocent pleasureswoo me in vain; I long for Paris, for my wallowing in the mire. See,' hewould continue, producing a handful of silver, 'I denude myself, I am notto be trusted with the price of a fare. Take it, keep it for me,squander it on deleterious candy, throw it in the deepest of the river--Iwill homologate your action. Save me from that part of myself which Idisown. If you see me falter, do not hesitate; if necessary, wreck thetrain! I speak, of course, by a parable. Any extremity were better thanfor me to reach Paris alive.'
Doubtless the Doctor enjoyed these little scenes, as a variation in hispart; they represented the Byronic element in the somewhat artificialpoetry of his existence; but to the boy, though he was dimly aware oftheir theatricality, they represented more. The Doctor made perhaps toolittle, the boy possibly too much, of the reality and gravity of thesetemptations.
One day a great light shone for Jean-Marie. 'Could not riches be usedwell?' he asked.
'In theory, yes,' replied the Doctor. 'But it is found in experiencethat no one does so. All the world imagine they will be exceptional whenthey grow wealthy; but possession is debasing, new desires spring up; andthe silly taste for ostentation eats out the heart of pleasure.'
'Then you might be better if you had less,' said the boy.
'Certainly not,' replied the Doctor; but his voice quavered as he spoke.
'Why?' demanded pitiless innocence.
Doctor Desprez saw all the colours of the rainbow in a moment; the stableuniverse appeared to be about capsizing with him. 'Because,' saidhe--affecting deliberation after an obvious pause--'because I have formedmy life for my present income. It is not good for men of my years to beviolently dissevered from their habits.'
That was a sharp brush. The Doctor breathed hard, and fell intotaciturnity for the afternoon. As for the boy, he was delighted with theresolution of his doubts; even wondered that he had not foreseen theobvious and conclusive answer. His faith in the Doctor was a stout pieceof goods. Desprez was inclined to be a sheet in the wind's eye afterdinner, especially after Rhone wine, his favourite weakness. He wouldthen remark on the warmth of his feeling for Anastasie, and with inflamedcheeks and a loose, flustered smile, debate upon all sorts of topics, andbe feebly and indiscreetly witty. But the adopted stable-boy would notpermit himself to entertain a doubt that savoured of ingratitude. It isquite true that a man may be a second father to you, and yet t
ake toomuch to drink; but the best natures are ever slow to accept such truths.
The Doctor thoroughly possessed his heart, but perhaps he exaggerated hisinfluence over his mind. Certainly Jean-Marie adopted some of hismaster's opinions, but I have yet to learn that he ever surrendered oneof his own. Convictions existed in him by divine right; they werevirgin, unwrought, the brute metal of decision. He could add othersindeed, but he could not put away; neither did he care if they wereperfectly agreed among themselves; and his spiritual pleasures hadnothing to do with turning them over or justifying them in words. Wordswere with him a mere accomplishment, like dancing. When he was byhimself, his pleasures were almost vegetable. He would slip into thewoods towards Acheres, and sit in the mouth of a cave among grey birches.His soul stared straight out of his eyes; he did not move or think;sunlight, thin shadows moving in the wind, the edge of firs against thesky, occupied and bound his faculties. He was pure unity, a spiritwholly abstracted. A single mood filled him, to which all the objects ofsense contributed, as the colours of the spectrum merge and disappear inwhite light.
So while the Doctor made himself drunk with words, the adopted stable-boybemused himself with silence.