LXXIX
IN THE DILIGENCE
"Hydras and apes. Triboulet puts on the mitre, and Bobêche the crown, Crispin plays Lycurgus, and Pasquin parades as Solon. Scapin is heard calling himself Sire, Mascarillo is My Lord … Cheeks made for slaps, are titles for honours. The more they are branded on the shoulder, the more they are bedisened on the back. Trestallion is radiant, and Pancrace resplendent."
CAMILLE LEMONNIERE (Paris-Berlin).
During this time, the diligence for Nancy was carrying away Marcel and Ridoux at full trot. Marcel had appeared to yield to his uncle's exhortations, and said to himself: "Let us go; that does not bind me to anything. In a couple of days at the latest, I shall be on my way back;" and this had made the worthy Ridoux quite happy.
They were alone in the coupé, and could converse at their ease.
—Look at this lovely country, that valley, those little hills, and away there the large woods, and do you not think that I shall feel some regret at leaving this part?
—And that little white house at the foot of the hill?… Is it there?
—Ah! so Veronica has pointed it out to you.
—Reluctantly, my son. But I wanted to know all. She is a cautious and trustworthy person who is entirely devoted to you.
—Not a word more about that cautious woman, uncle, I pray.
—Let us rather talk about your promotion.
—My promotion. I assure you, uncle, that I am no longer ambitious.
—What are you saying there? You are no longer ambitious! You are going perhaps to make me believe that you are happy in your shell. Come, rouse yourself. Has a moral torpor already seized you? You are no longer ambitious. Well, I will be so for you, and I intend, yes, I intend, do you hear, that you should make your way. What happiness for a poor old man, like me, when I hear them say: "Monsieur Ridoux, I have just seen your nephew, Monseigneur Marcel, go by." I shall answer then: "It is I, however, who have made him, who have formed him, his Right-Reverence." You will give me your patronage, will you not?
—Dear uncle, said Marcel softened, pressing the old Curé's hands, you still have those ideas then, you always think then that I shall become a Bishop?
—What? yes I think so; I do more than that, I am sure of it. Are you not of the stuff of which they make them? Why should not you become one as well as another?
—A bishopric is not for the first-comer.
—Don't worry me. Are you the first-comer? See, my dear fellow, you really must get this into your head, that in order to succeed in our profession, evangelical virtues are more detrimental than useful, and that there are two things indispensable: first to have a good outside show, to stir yourself and to know how to intrigue to the utmost. As for talent, that is an accessory which can do no harm, but after all, it is merely an accessory. Now, you have a good outside show; you have more talent than is necessary, there is only one thing in which you are faulty, you are not sufficiently intriguing. Well, I will be so for you, and I will stir myself up for you. Success wholly lies in that.
You say that a bishopric is not for the first-comer. You make me laugh. Look at ours, Monseigneur Collard; what transcendant genius does he possess? Is not his morality somewhat elastic, and his virtues very doubtful? But he has a magnificent head, and that from all time has pleased the world in general and the women in particular. Ah, the women, my dear friend, the women! you do not know what a weight they are in the scales of our destinies, and in the choice of our superiors. I know something about it, and if I had had a smaller nose and a better-made mouth, I should not be now Curé of St. Nicholas. But I am ugly and they despise me. How many I know who owe their cross and their mitre to the way in which they say in the pulpit, "my sisters", and to the amiable manner in which they receive the confessions of influential sheep.
—You confess, uncle, that it is abominable.
—I confess that it is in human nature, that is all I confess. Is it not logical to befriend people whose appearance pleases you, rather than those whose face is disagreeable to you? Good Heavens, it has always been the case since the commencement of the world. All that you could say on the subject would not make the slightest change. Let us therefore profit by our advantages when we have advantages, and leave fruitless jeremiads to the foolish and envious.
—Birth also counts for much in our fortune.
—Often, but not always. Look at Collard again, who is the son of a journeyman baker.
—He has that in common with Pope Benedict XII.
—Yes, but he has that only. Therefore, since it is neither his birth, nor his genius, nor his virtues which have helped him on, it is then something else.
—In fact, ecclesiastical history abounds in similar instances. Men, starting from the most humble condition, have attained the supreme dignity: Benedict XI had tended sheep, the great Sixtus V was a swineherd, Urban VI was the son of a cobbler, Alexander V had been a beggar.
—And a host of others of the same feather. Well, that ought to encourage you who are the son neither of a cobbler, or of a pig-seller.
—Would to heaven that I were a cobbler or a shepherd myself; I could have married according to my taste and have become the worthy father of a family, an honest artisan rather than a bad Curé.
—Yes, but Mademoiselle Durand would not have wanted you.
—Oh, uncle, do not speak of that young person with whom you are not acquainted, and regarding whom you are strangely mistaken, for you see her through the dirty spectacles of my servant. You want to take me away on her account, but are there not young persons everywhere? You know, as well as I, to what dangers young priests are exposed; shall I be safe from those dangers by going away? No. And since it is agreed between us that, no more than others, can we avoid certain necessities of nature….
-Alas, alas, human infirmity!
Omnia vincit amor, et nos cadamus amori.
—Then….
—Then, we choose our company; for instance, that pretty girl there.
And Ridoux leant his head out of the door. They had just reached Vic, where they changed horses.