Two adventures put an end to this first part of my story, and produced a noteworthy change in the system upon which my education was conducted. We were one Sunday on the beach, in the "fan" of the Porte Saint-Thomas and along the Sillon, where great stakes sunk into the sand protect the walls against the swell of the sea. We would generally climb to the top of these stakes to watch the first waves of the rising tide flow beneath us. We had taken our places as usual; several little girls were among us small boys. I was the furthest out at sea, having none in front of me save a pretty little thing called Hervine Magon, who was laughing with pleasure and crying with fear. Gesril was at the further end inland.
The tide rose; it was blowing; already the nurses and footmen were crying: "Come down, miss! Come down, sir!" Gesril waited for a big wave, and as it dashed between the stakes, he pushed the child seated next to him. This one fell against another, that against a third; the whole row fell flat like "friars" of cards, but each was saved by his neighbour; the only exception was the little girl at the extreme end of the row, against whom I was upset, with the result that, having no one to support her, she fell off. She was dragged away by the reflux; a thousand cries arose; all the nurses tucked up their skirts and waded into the sea, each catching hold of her brat and giving it a smack. Hervine was fished out, and declared that François had thrown her down. The nurses made a rush for me; I escaped from them, and ran and shut myself in the cellar at home, whither the army of females pursued me. Fortunately my father and mother had gone out Villeneuve valiantly defended the door, and boxed the ears of the enemy's van-guard. The real author of the mischief, Gesril, lent me his aid: climbing to his own floor, with his two sisters he threw pots of water and baked apples at my assailants from the windows. They raised the siege at nightfall; but the news spread through the town, and the nine-year-old Chevalier de Chateaubriand was reputed a monster of iniquity, a survival of those pirates whom St. Aaron had driven from his rock.
The other adventure was this: I went with Gesril to Saint-Servan, the suburb divided from Saint-Malo by the merchant harbor. In order to reach it at low water, you cross certain currents by means of low and narrow stepping-stones, which are covered when the sea rises. The footmen who escorted us had loitered some way behind. At the end of one of these bridges of stones we saw two ship's lads coming in our direction. Gesril said to me: "Are we to let those beggars pass?" and shouted to them: "Into the water, ducks!" Like true salts, refusing to take chaff, they came on; Gesril retreated; and stationing ourselves at one end of the bridge, we caught up some pebbles and threw them at the ship-boys' heads. They rushed upon us, forced us to fall back, armed themselves with pebbles in their turn, and drove us back, fighting, upon our reserves, in other words, our servants. I was not, like Horatius, hit in the eye; but a stone caught me so violently that my left ear was cut in two and hung down upon my shoulder.
Our dangerous pastimes.
I did not think of my hurt, but of my return home. When my friend came back from his excursions with a black eye and a torn coat, he was pitied, pampered, coddled, dressed up again; while I, under similar circumstances, was promptly punished. The wound I had received was dangerous, but La France was unable to persuade me to come indoors, such was my fright. I went and hid on the second floor with Gesril, who bound up my head in a napkin. This napkin set him going: it suggested a mitre to him; he turned me into a bishop and made me sing High Mass with him and his sisters until supper-time. The dignitary of the Church was at last obliged to go downstairs: my heart beat. Taken aback by my face disordered and smeared with blood, my father said not a word; my mother screamed; La France told my piteous case, and tried to excuse me; I was nevertheless rated for it. They dressed my ear, and Monsieur and Madame de Chateaubriand resolved to separate me from Gesril as soon as possible[73].
I am not sure that it was not in this year that the Comte d'Artois[74] visited Saint-Malo: a sham fight was arranged for him in the roads. From the top of the bastion of the powder-magazine I watched the young Prince standing among the crowd on the beach: in his splendour and in my obscurity how many unknown destinies lay hidden! Thus, if my memory do not fail me, Saint-Malo has seen two Kings of France only: Charles IX. and Charles X.
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There you have the picture of my early childhood. I do not know whether the harsh education I received be sound in principle, but it was adopted by my relations without purpose and as the natural outcome of their temperament. What is certain is that it imbued me with ideas different from those of other men; what is still more certain is that it impressed upon my sentiments a character of melancholy which arose from the habit of suffering acquired in the age of weakness, improvidence and mirth.
Is it suggested that the manner of my bringing-up might have led me to abhor the authors of my being? Not at all: the remembrance of their sternness is almost pleasant to me; I value and honour their great good qualities. When my father died, my comrades in the Navarre Regiment witnessed my regret. From my mother I derive the consolation of my life, since it was she who taught me my religion; I gathered the Christian verities that issued from her mouth, as Pierre de Langres studied at night in church, by the light of the lamp burning before the Blessed Sacrament. Would my intelligence have received a greater development had I been set earlier to my studies? I doubt it: the waves, the winds, the solitude which were my first masters were probably better suited to my native disposition; possibly I owe to those wild tutors virtues which might have remained unknown to me. The truth is that no system of education is in itself to be preferred to any other system: do children love their parents better nowadays when they say tu and toi to them and no longer fear them? Gesril was spoilt in the same house in which I was scolded: we have both been honest men and loving and respectful sons. This thing which you think bad brings out your child's gifts; that other which you think good would stifle those same gifts. What God does is well done: it is Providence that guides us, when it destines us to play a part upon the world's stage.