All these turpitudes would be unimportant if our poor nobility were still triumphantly occupying their rightful position; but while they are struggling to recover their prestige what can be done with such representatives? Oh, I hated those little fools who by their culpable folly compromised so noble a cause! Can they not see that each of their silly blunders furnishes an arm against the principles they defend, against their party, against us all? They are at war with a country that distrusts their motives and detests and envies their advantages ... and they amuse themselves by irritating the country by their aggressive hostility and blustering idleness. By thus displaying their ill manners and want of sense, it seems as if they wished to justify all the accusations of their enemies and gain what they really deserve, a worse reputation than they already bear. They are accused of being ignorant ... they are illiterate! They are accused of being impudent ... They are insolent! They are accused of being beasts ... They show themselves to be brutes! And yet not much is exacted of them, because they are known to be degenerate. Only half what is required from others is expected from them. They are not asked for heroism or talent, or genius: they are only expected to behave with dignity, they cannot even assume it! They are not asked to add to the lustre of their names, they are only entreated to respect them—and they drag them in the mire! Ah, these people make me die of shame and indignation.
It is from this nursery of worthless, idle young fops that I, Irene de Chateaudun, will be forced to choose a husband. No, never will I suffer the millions that Providence has bestowed upon me to be squandered upon ballet-dancers and the scum of Paris! If it be absolutely necessary that my fortune should be enjoyed by women, I will bestow it upon a convent, where I will retire for the rest of my life; but I certainly would prefer becoming the wife of a poor, obscure, but noble-minded student, thirsting for glory and ambitious of making illustrious his plebeian name, seeking among the dust of ages for the secret of fame ... than to marry one of the degenerate scions of an old family, who crawl around crushed by the weight of their formidable name; these little burlesque noblemen who retain nothing of their high position but pride and vanity; who can neither think, act, work nor suffer for their country; these disabled knights who wage war against bailiffs and make their names notorious in the police offices and tap-rooms of the Boulevard.
It is glorious to feel flowing in one's veins noble, heroic blood, to be intoxicated with youthful pride when studying the history of one's country, to see one's school-mates forced to commit to memory as a duty, the brilliant record of the heroic deeds of our ancestors! To enter upon a smooth path made easy and pleasant for us by those gone before; to be already armed with the remembrance of noble deeds, laden with generous promises; to have praiseworthy engagements to fulfil, grand hopes to realize; to have in the past powerful protectors, inspiring models that one can invoke in the hour of crisis like exceptional patrons, like saints belonging exclusively to one's own family; to have one's conduct traced out by masters of whom we are proud; to have nothing to imagine—nothing to originate, no good example to set, nothing to do but to nobly continue the work grandly commenced, to keep up the tradition, to follow the old routine—it is especially glorious when the tradition is of honor, when the routine is of glory.
But who comprehends these sentiments now? Who dares utter these noble words without an ironical smile? Only a few helpless believers like myself who still energetically but vainly protest against these degradations. Some go to Algeria to prove their hereditary bravery and obtain the Cross of Honor they are deprived of here; others retire to their châteaux and study the fine arts, thus enjoying the only generous resource of discouraged souls; surrounded by the true and the beautiful, they try to forget an ungrateful and degenerate party. Others, disciples of Sully, temper their strength by hard work in the fruitful study of sacred science, and become enthusiastic, absorbed husbandmen, in order to conceal their misanthropy. But what can they do? Fight all alone for a deserted cause? What can the best officers accomplish without soldiers?
You see, Valentine, I forget my own sorrows in thinking of our common woes; when I reflect upon the sad state of public affairs, I find Roger doubly culpable. Possessing so brilliant a mind, such superb talents, he could by his influence bring these young fools back to the path of honor. How unpardonable it is in him to lead them further astray by his dangerous example?
Oh, Valentine! I feel that I am not fitted to live in times like these. Everything displeases me. The people of past ages seemed unintelligent, impracticable the people of the present day are coarse and hypocritical—the former understand nothing, the latter pervert everything. The former had not the attainments that I require, the latter have not the delicacy that I exact. The world is ugly; I have seen enough of it. It is sad to think of one so young as I, just entering upon life, having my head weighed down by the cares and disappointments of sixty years! For a blonde head this weight is very heavy!
What! in this grand world, not one noble being, not one elevated soul possessed of high aspirations and a holy respect for love!
For a young woman to own millions and be compelled to hoard them because she has no one to bestow them upon! To be rich, young, free, generous, and forced to live alone because no worthy partner can be found!...
Valentine, is not this a sad case?
Now my anger is gone—I am only sad, but I am mortally sad.... I know not what to do.... Would I could fly to your arms! Ah! mother! my mother! why am I left to struggle all alone in this unfeeling world!