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SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION
OR, _THE HISTORY OF A YOUNG MAN_
BY GUSTAVE FLAUBERT
_VOLUME I._
M. WALTER DUNNE
NEW YORK AND LONDON
COPYRIGHT, 1904,
BY M. WALTER DUNNE
PUBLISHER
[Illustration: She wore a wide straw hat with red ribbons, which
fluttered in the wind behind her.]
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I. A PROMISING PUPIL
CHAPTER II. DAMON AND PYTHIAS
CHAPTER III. SENTIMENT AND PASSION
CHAPTER IV. THE INEXPRESSIBLE SHE!
CHAPTER V. "LOVE KNOWETH NO LAWS"
CHAPTER VI. BLIGHTED HOPES
CHAPTER VII. CHANGE OF FORTUNE
CHAPTER VIII. FREDERICK ENTERTAINS
CHAPTER IX. THE FRIEND OF THE FAMILY
CHAPTER X. AT THE RACES
ILLUSTRATIONS
SHE WORE A WIDE STRAW HAT WITH RED RIBBONS, WHICH FLUTTERED IN THE WIND
BEHIND HER
"LAUGH, THEN! SHED NO MORE TEARS--BE HAPPY!"
THEN SHE SEIZED HIM BY THE EARS AND KISSED HIM
SENTIMENTAL EDUCATION
CHAPTER I.
A Promising Pupil.
On the 15th of September, 1840, about six o'clock in the morning, the
_Ville de Montereau_, just on the point of starting, was sending forth
great whirlwinds of smoke, in front of the Quai St. Bernard.
People came rushing on board in breathless haste. The traffic was
obstructed by casks, cables, and baskets of linen. The sailors answered
nobody. People jostled one another. Between the two paddle-boxes was
piled up a heap of parcels; and the uproar was drowned in the loud
hissing of the steam, which, making its way through the plates of
sheet-iron, enveloped everything in a white cloud, while the bell at the
prow kept ringing continuously.
At last, the vessel set out; and the two banks of the river, stocked
with warehouses, timber-yards, and manufactories, opened out like two
huge ribbons being unrolled.
A young man of eighteen, with long hair, holding an album under his arm,
remained near the helm without moving. Through the haze he surveyed
steeples, buildings of which he did not know the names; then, with a
parting glance, he took in the Île St. Louis, the Cité, Nôtre Dame; and
presently, as Paris disappeared from his view, he heaved a deep sigh.
Frederick Moreau, having just taken his Bachelor's degree, was returning
home to Nogent-sur-Seine, where he would have to lead a languishing
existence for two months, before going back to begin his legal studies.
His mother had sent him, with enough to cover his expenses, to Havre to
see an uncle, from whom she had expectations of his receiving an
inheritance. He had returned from that place only yesterday; and he
indemnified himself for not having the opportunity of spending a little
time in the capital by taking the longest possible route to reach his
own part of the country.
The hubbub had subsided. The passengers had all taken their places. Some
of them stood warming themselves around the machinery, and the chimney
spat forth with a slow, rhythmic rattle its plume of black smoke. Little
drops of dew trickled over the copper plates; the deck quivered with the
vibration from within; and the two paddle-wheels, rapidly turning round,
lashed the water. The edges of the river were covered with sand. The
vessel swept past rafts of wood which began to oscillate under the
rippling of the waves, or a boat without sails in which a man sat
fishing. Then the wandering haze cleared off; the sun appeared; the hill
which ran along the course of the Seine to the right subsided by
degrees, and another rose nearer on the opposite bank.
It was crowned with trees, which surrounded low-built houses, covered
with roofs in the Italian style. They had sloping gardens divided by
fresh walls, iron railings, grass-plots, hot-houses, and vases of
geraniums, laid out regularly on the terraces where one could lean
forward on one's elbow. More than one spectator longed, on beholding
those attractive residences which looked so peaceful, to be the owner of
one of them, and to dwell there till the end of his days with a good
billiard-table, a sailing-boat, and a woman or some other object to
dream about. The agreeable novelty of a journey by water made such
outbursts natural. Already the wags on board were beginning their jokes.
Many began to sing. Gaiety prevailed, and glasses of brandy were poured
out.
Frederick was thinking about the apartment which he would occupy over
there, on the plan of a drama, on subjects for pictures, on future
passions. He found that the happiness merited by the excellence of his
soul was slow in arriving. He declaimed some melancholy verses. He
walked with rapid step along the deck. He went on till he reached the
end at which the bell was; and, in the centre of a group of passengers
and sailors, he saw a gentleman talking soft nothings to a
country-woman, while fingering the gold cross which she wore over her
breast. He was a jovial blade of forty with frizzled hair. His robust
form was encased in a jacket of black velvet, two emeralds sparkled in
his cambric shirt, and his wide, white trousers fell over odd-looking
red boots of Russian leather set off with blue designs.
The presence of Frederick did not discompose him. He turned round and
glanced several times at the young man with winks of enquiry. He next
offered cigars to all who were standing around him. But getting tired,
no doubt, of their society, he moved away from them and took a seat
further up. Frederick followed him.
The conversation, at first, turned on the various kinds of tobacco, then
quite naturally it glided into a discussion about women. The gentleman
in the red boots gave the young man advice; he put forward theories,
related anecdotes, referred to himself by way of illustration, and he
gave utterance to all these things in a paternal tone, with the
ingenuousness of entertaining depravity.
He was republican in his opinions. He had travelled; he was familiar
with the inner life of theatres, restaurants, and newspapers, and knew
all the theatrical celebrities, whom he called by their Christian names.
Frederick told him confidentially about his projects; and the elder man
took an encouraging view of them.
But he stopped talking to take a look at the funnel, then he went
mumbling rapidly through a long calculation in order to ascertain "how
much each stroke of the piston at so many times per minute would come
to," etc., and having found the number, he spoke about the scenery,
which he admired immensely. Then he gave expression to his delight at
having got away from business.
Frederick regarded him with a certain amount of respect, and politely
manifested a strong desire to know his name. The stranger, without a
moment's hesitation, replied:
"Jacques Arnoux, proprietor of _L'Art Industriel_, Boulevard
Montmartre."
A man-servant in a gold-laced cap came up and said:
"Would Monsieur have the kindness to go below? Mademoiselle is crying."
_L'Art Industriel_ was a hybrid establishment, wherein the functions of
an art-journal and a picture-shop were combined. Frederick had seen this
title several times in the bookseller's window in his native place on
big prospectuses, on which the name of Jacques Arnoux displayed itself
magisterially.
The sun's rays fell perpendicularly, shedding a glittering light on the
iron hoops around the masts, the plates of the barricades, and the
surface of the water, which, at the prow, was cut into two furrows that
spread out as far as the borders of the meadows. At each winding of the
river, a screen of pale poplars presented itself with the utmost
uniformity. The surrounding country at this point had an empty look. In
the sky there were little white clouds which remained motionless, and
the sense of weariness, which vaguely diffused itself over everything,
seemed to retard the progress of the steamboat and to add to the
insignificant appearance of the passengers. Putting aside a few persons
of good position who were travelling first class, they were artisans or
shopmen with their wives and children. As it was customary at that time
to wear old clothes when travelling, they nearly all had their heads
covered with shabby Greek caps or discoloured hats, thin black coats
that had become quite threadbare from constant rubbing against
writing-desks, or frock-coats with the casings of their buttons loose
from continual service in the shop. Here and there some roll-collar
waistcoat afforded a glimpse of a calico shirt stained with coffee.
Pinchbeck pins were stuck into cravats that were all torn. List shoes
were kept up by stitched straps. Two or three roughs who held in their
hands bamboo canes with leathern loops, kept looking askance at their
fellow-passengers; and fathers of families opened their eyes wide while
making enquiries. People chatted either standing up or squatting over
their luggage; some went to sleep in various corners of the vessel;
several occupied themselves with eating. The deck was soiled with walnut
shells, butt-ends of cigars, peelings of pears, and the droppings of
pork-butchers' meat, which had been carried wrapped up in paper. Three
cabinet-makers in blouses took their stand in front of the bottle case;
a harp-player in rags was resting with his elbows on his instrument. At
intervals could be heard the sound of falling coals in the furnace, a
shout, or a laugh; and the captain kept walking on the bridge from one
paddle-box to the other without stopping for a moment.
Frederick, to get back to his place, pushed forward the grating leading
into the part of the vessel reserved for first-class passengers, and in
so doing disturbed two sportsmen with their dogs.
What he then saw was like an apparition. She was seated in the middle of
a bench all alone, or, at any rate, he could see no one, dazzled as he
was by her eyes. At the moment when he was passing, she raised her head;
his shoulders bent involuntarily; and, when he had seated himself, some
distance away, on the same side, he glanced towards her.
She wore a wide straw hat with red ribbons which fluttered in the wind
behind her. Her black tresses, twining around the edges of her large
brows, descended very low, and seemed amorously to press the oval of her
face. Her robe of light muslin spotted with green spread out in numerous
folds. She was in the act of embroidering something; and her straight
nose, her chin, her entire person was cut out on the background of the
luminous air and the blue sky.
As she remained in the same attitude, he took several turns to the right
and to the left to hide from her his change of position; then he placed
himself close to her parasol which lay against the bench, and pretended
to be looking at a sloop on the river.
Never before had he seen more lustrous dark skin, a more seductive
figure, or more delicately shaped fingers than those through which the
sunlight gleamed. He stared with amazement at her work-basket, as if it
were something extraordinary. What was her name, her place of residence,
her life, her past? He longed to become familiar with the furniture of
her apartment, all the dresses that she had worn, the people whom she
visited; and the desire of physical possession yielded to a deeper
yearning, a painful curiosity that knew no bounds.
A negress, wearing a silk handkerchief tied round her head, made her
appearance, holding by the hand a little girl already tall for her age.
The child, whose eyes were swimming with tears, had just awakened. The
lady took the little one on her knees. "Mademoiselle was not good,
though she would soon be seven; her mother would not love her any more.
She was too often pardoned for being naughty." And Frederick heard those
things with delight, as if he had made a discovery, an acquisition.
He assumed that she must be of Andalusian descent, perhaps a Creole: had
she brought this negress across with her from the West Indian Islands?
Meanwhile his attention was directed to a long shawl with violet stripes
thrown behind her back over the copper support of the bench. She must
have, many a time, wrapped it around her waist, as the vessel sped
through the midst of the waves; drawn it over her feet, gone to sleep in
it!
Frederick suddenly noticed that with the sweep of its fringes it was
slipping off, and it was on the point of falling into the water when,
with a bound, he secured it. She said to him:
"Thanks, Monsieur."
Their eyes met.
"Are you ready, my dear?" cried my lord Arnoux, presenting himself at
the hood of the companion-ladder.
Mademoiselle Marthe ran over to him, and, clinging to his neck, she
began pulling at his moustache. The strains of a harp were heard--she
wanted to see the music played; and presently the performer on the
instrument, led forward by the negress, entered the place reserved for
saloon passengers. Arnoux recognized in him a man who had formerly been
a model, and "thou'd" him, to the astonishment of the bystanders. At
length the harpist, flinging back his long hair over his shoulders,
stretched out his hands and began playing.
It was an Oriental ballad all about poniards, flowers, and stars. The
man in rags sang it in a sharp voice; the twanging of the harp strings
broke the harmony of the tune with false notes. He played more
vigorously: the chords vibrated, and their metallic sounds seemed to
send forth sobs, and, as it were, the plaint of a proud and vanquished
love. On both sides of the river, woods extended as far as the edge of
the water. A current of fresh air swept past them, and Madame Arnoux
gazed vaguely into the distance. When the music stopped, she moved her
eyes several times as if she were starting out of a dream.
The harpist approached them with an air of humility. While Arnoux was
searching his pockets for money, Frederick stretched out towards the cap
his closed hand, and then, opening it in a shamefaced manner, he
deposited in it a louis d'or. It was not vanity that had prompted him to
bestow this alms in her presence, but the idea of a blessing in which he
thought she might share--an almost religious impulse of the heart.
Arnoux, pointing out the way, cordially invited him to go below.
Frederick declared that he had just lunched; on the contrary, he was
nearly dying of hunger; and he had not a single centime in his purse.
After that, it occurred to him that he had a perfect right, as well as
anyone else, to remain in the cabin.
Ladies and gentlemen were seated before round tables, lunching, while an
attendant went about serving out coffee. Monsieur and Madame Arnoux were
in the far corner to the right. He took a seat on the long bench covered
with velvet, having picked up a newspaper which he found there.
They would have to take the diligence at Montereau for Châlons. Their
tour in Switzerland would last a month. Madame Arnoux blamed her husband
for his weakness in dealing with his child. He whispered in her ear
something agreeable, no doubt, for she smiled. Then, he got up to draw
down the window curtain at her back. Under the low, white ceiling, a
crude light filled the cabin. Frederick, sitting opposite to the place
where she sat, could distinguish the shade of her eyelashes. She just
moistened her lips with her glass and broke a little piece of crust
between her fingers. The lapis-lazuli locket fastened by a little gold
chain to her wrist made a ringing sound, every now and then, as it
touched her plate. Those present, however, did not appear to notice it.
At intervals one could see, through the small portholes, the side of a
boat taking away passengers or putting them on board. Those who sat
round the tables stooped towards the openings, and called out the names
of the various places they passed along the river.
Arnoux complained of the cooking. He grumbled particularly at the amount
of the bill, and got it reduced. Then, he carried off the young man
towards the forecastle to drink a glass of grog with him. But Frederick
speedily came back again to gaze at Madame Arnoux, who had returned to
the awning, beneath which she seated herself. She was reading a thin,
grey-covered volume. From time to time, the corners of her mouth curled
and a gleam of pleasure lighted up her forehead. He felt jealous of the
inventor of those things which appeared to interest her so much. The
more he contemplated her, the more he felt that there were yawning
abysses between them. He was reflecting that he should very soon lose
sight of her irrevocably, without having extracted a few words from her,
without leaving her even a souvenir!
On the right, a plain stretched out. On the left, a strip of
pasture-land rose gently to meet a hillock where one could see
vineyards, groups of walnut-trees, a mill embedded in the grassy slopes,
and, beyond that, little zigzag paths over the white mass of rocks that
reached up towards the clouds. What bliss it would have been to ascend
side by side with her, his arm around her waist, while her gown would
sweep the yellow leaves, listening to her voice and gazing up into her
glowing eyes! The steamboat might stop, and all they would have to do
was to step out of it; and yet this thing, simple as it might be, was
not less difficult than it would have been to move the sun.
A little further on, a château appeared with pointed roof and square
turrets. A flower garden spread out in the foreground; and avenues ran,
like dark archways, under the tall linden trees. He pictured her to
himself passing along by this group of trees. At that moment a young
lady and a young man showed themselves on the steps in front of the
house, between the trunks of the orange trees. Then the entire scene
vanished.
The little girl kept skipping playfully around the place where he had
stationed himself on the deck. Frederick wished to kiss her. She hid
herself behind her nurse. Her mother scolded her for not being nice to
the gentleman who had rescued her own shawl. Was this an indirect
overture?
"Is she going to speak to me?" he asked himself.
Time was flying. How was he to get an invitation to the Arnoux's house?
And he could think of nothing better than to draw her attention to the
autumnal hues, adding:
"We are close to winter--the season of balls and dinner-parties."
But Arnoux was entirely occupied with his luggage. They had arrived at
the point of the river's bank facing Surville. The two bridges drew
nearer. They passed a ropewalk, then a range of low-built houses, inside
which there were pots of tar and splinters of wood; and brats went
along the sand turning head over heels. Frederick recognised a man with
a sleeved waistcoat, and called out to him:
"Make haste!"
They were at the landing-place. He looked around anxiously for Arnoux
amongst the crowd of passengers, and the other came and shook hands with
him, saying:
"A pleasant time, dear Monsieur!"
When he was on the quay, Frederick turned around. She was standing
beside the helm. He cast a look towards her into which he tried to put
his whole soul. She remained motionless, as if he had done nothing.
Then, without paying the slightest attentions to the obeisances of his
man-servant:
"Why didn't you bring the trap down here?"
The man made excuses.
"What a clumsy fellow you are! Give me some money."
And after that he went off to get something to eat at an inn.
A quarter of an hour later, he felt an inclination to turn into the
coachyard, as if by chance. Perhaps he would see her again.
"What's the use of it?" said he to himself.
The vehicle carried him off. The two horses did not belong to his
mother. She had borrowed one of M. Chambrion, the tax-collector, in
order to have it yoked alongside of her own. Isidore, having set forth
the day before, had taken a rest at Bray until evening, and had slept at
Montereau, so that the animals, with restored vigour, were trotting
briskly.
Fields on which the crops had been cut stretched out in apparently
endless succession; and by degrees Villeneuve, St. Georges, Ablon,
Châtillon, Corbeil, and the other places--his entire journey--came back
to his recollection with such vividness that he could now recall to mind
fresh details, more intimate particulars.... Under the lowest flounce of
her gown, her foot showed itself encased in a dainty silk boot of maroon
shade. The awning made of ticking formed a wide canopy over her head,
and the little red tassels of the edging kept perpetually trembling in
the breeze.
She resembled the women of whom he had read in romances. He would have
added nothing to the charms of her person, and would have taken nothing
from them. The universe had suddenly become enlarged. She was the
luminous point towards which all things converged; and, rocked by the
movement of the vehicle, with half-dosed eyelids, and his face turned
towards the clouds, he abandoned himself to a dreamy, infinite joy.
At Bray, he did not wait till the horses had got their oats; he walked
on along the road ahead by himself. Arnoux had, when he spoke to her,
addressed her as "Marie." He now loudly repeated the name "Marie!" His
voice pierced the air and was lost in the distance.
The western sky was one great mass of flaming purple. Huge stacks of
wheat, rising up in the midst of the stubble fields, projected giant
shadows. A dog began to bark in a farm-house in the distance. He
shivered, seized with disquietude for which he could assign no cause.
When Isidore had come up with him, he jumped up into the front seat to
drive. His fit of weakness was past. He had thoroughly made up his mind
to effect an introduction into the house of the Arnoux, and to become
intimate with them. Their house should be amusing; besides, he liked
Arnoux; then, who could tell? Thereupon a wave of blood rushed up to his
face; his temples throbbed; he cracked his whip, shook the reins, and
set the horses going at such a pace that the old coachman repeatedly
exclaimed:
"Easy! easy now, or they'll get broken-winded!"
Gradually Frederick calmed down, and he listened to what the man was
saying. Monsieur's return was impatiently awaited. Mademoiselle Louise
had cried in her anxiety to go in the trap to meet him.
"Who, pray, is Mademoiselle Louise?"
"Monsieur Roque's little girl, you know."
"Ah! I had forgotten," rejoined Frederick, carelessly.
Meanwhile, the two horses could keep up the pace no longer. They were
both getting lame; and nine o'clock struck at St. Laurent's when he
arrived at the parade in front of his mother's house.
This house of large dimensions, with a garden looking out on the open
country, added to the social importance of Madame Moreau, who was the
most respected lady in the district.
She came of an old family of nobles, of which the male line was now
extinct. Her husband, a plebeian whom her parents forced her to marry,
met his death by a sword-thrust, during her pregnancy, leaving her an
estate much encumbered. She received visitors three times a week, and
from time to time, gave a fashionable dinner. But the number of wax
candles was calculated beforehand, and she looked forward with some
impatience to the payment of her rents. These pecuniary embarrassments,
concealed as if there were some guilt attached to them, imparted a
certain gravity to her character. Nevertheless, she displayed no
prudery, no sourness, in the practice of her peculiar virtue. Her most
trifling charities seemed munificent alms. She was consulted about the
selection of servants, the education of young girls, and the art of
making preserves, and Monseigneur used to stay at her house on the
occasion of his episcopal visitations.
Madame Moreau cherished a lofty ambition for her son. Through a sort of
prudence grounded on the expectation of favours, she did not care to
hear blame cast on the Government. He would need patronage at the start;
then, with its aid, he might become a councillor of State, an
ambassador, a minister. His triumphs at the college of Sens warranted
this proud anticipation; he had carried off there the prize of honour.
When he entered the drawing-room, all present arose with a great racket;
he was embraced; and the chairs, large and small, were drawn up in a big
semi-circle around the fireplace. M. Gamblin immediately asked him what
was his opinion about Madame Lafarge. This case, the rage of the period,
did not fail to lead to a violent discussion. Madame Moreau stopped it,
to the regret, however, of M. Gamblin. He deemed it serviceable to the
young man in his character of a future lawyer, and, nettled at what had
occurred, he left the drawing-room.
Nothing should have caused surprise on the part of a friend of Père
Roque! The reference to Père Roque led them to talk of M. Dambreuse, who
had just become the owner of the demesne of La Fortelle. But the
tax-collector had drawn Frederick aside to know what he thought of M.
Guizot's latest work. They were all anxious to get some information
about his private affairs, and Madame Benoît went cleverly to work with
that end in view by inquiring about his uncle. How was that worthy
relative? They no longer heard from him. Had he not a distant cousin in
America?
The cook announced that Monsieur's soup was served. The guests
discreetly retired. Then, as soon as they were alone in the dining-room,
his mother said to him in a low tone:
"Well?"
The old man had received him in a very cordial manner, but without
disclosing his intentions.
Madame Moreau sighed.
"Where is she now?" was his thought.
The diligence was rolling along the road, and, wrapped up in the shawl,
no doubt, she was leaning against the cloth of the coupé, her beautiful
head nodding asleep.
He and his mother were just going up to their apartments when a waiter
from the Swan of the Cross brought him a note.
"What is that, pray?"
"It is Deslauriers, who wants me," said he.
"Ha! your chum!" said Madame Moreau, with a contemptuous sneer.
"Certainly it is a nice hour to select!"
Frederick hesitated. But friendship was stronger. He got his hat.
"At any rate, don't be long!" said his mother to him.