Complete Works of Emile Zola (1789 page)

As I have told you, she attained the age of discretion early in life. What with her had at first been the instinct of the heart, soon became judgment and line of conduct. It was no longer her innate kindness only that prompted her to love the brute creation; that common sense which we display to hold dominion, had in her case the rare result of increasing her affection by helping her to realise how dumb creatures need to be loved. When she walked through the lanes with girls of her own age, she sometimes preached her mission, and it was a charming sight to see this rosy-lipped doctor, explaining with earnest simplicity to her disciples, the new religion which teaches us to extend a helping hand to the most unfortunate of the earth. She often said that she had formerly felt great pity, when thinking of creatures deprived of speech, and thus unable to make their wants known to us; she dreaded in her early years to pass by them when they were hungry or athirst, and to go on her way without having relieved them, giving them a hateful impression of the wicked heart of a little girl ignoring charity. It was from this, she said, that all the misunderstanding between God’s children from man to worm came; they do not understand their different languages, and despise one another, because they cannot comprehend each other sufficiently, to give mutual assistance in a brotherly way.

Many a time when facing a huge ox, who fixed his mournful eyes on her for hours together, she had anxiously sought to ascertain what the poor creature that was looking at her so sadly, wanted. But now, as far as she was concerned, she no longer dreaded being thought unkind. She knew the language of each beast; she owed this language to the affection of dear unfortunate ones, who had taught it her during a long association. And when one asked her how to acquire those thousand languages to put an end to the misunderstandings which render creation wicked, she replied with a sweet smile: “Love animals and you will understand them.”

Her logic, moreover, was not very profound; she judged by her own heart, without troubling herself about philosophical ideas she was unacquainted with. Her view of things possessed this peculiarity, in our era of pride: she did not consider man alone in God’s work. She loved life in all its forms; she beheld creatures, from the humblest to the highest, crushed beneath the same law of suffering. In this brotherhood of tears she could make no distinction between those who possess a soul and those to whom we do not allow one. Stones alone left her unmoved, and yet during the hard frosts of January she would think of those poor stones which must have felt so cold on the highways. She had become attached to animals as we become attached to the blind and dumb, because they can neither see nor hear. She sought out the most miserable creatures to satisfy her great craving to love.

She certainly was not so foolish as to believe that a man was concealed under the skin of a donkey or a wolf; those are ridiculous inventions which might occur to a philosopher, but are not intended for the fair head of a little girl. The wise man who has declared that he loves beasts because they are men in disguise, is a perfect egotist As for her, thank God, she looked on animals as mere animals. She loved them simply, believing they live, and experience joys and sorrows just as we do. She treated them as sisters, whilst realising the difference existing between their being and ours, but at the same time telling herself that God, having given them life, has created them to be comforted When the charming Primrose ascended the throne, seeing that she could not perform a deed of charity in working for the welfare of her people, she determined to labour for the happiness of the animals in her kingdom. As the men declared themselves to be perfectly satisfied, she devoted herself to the well-being of insects and lions. She thus appeased her craving to love.

It must be admitted that if peace reigned in the cities it was not the same in the forests. Primrose had at all times experienced sad surprise at seeing the perpetual warfare which raged amongst the brute creation. She could not understand the spider sucking the fly’s blood, the bird feeding on the spider. One of her most oppressive nightmares consisted in seeing, on rough winter nights, a kind of terrible round dance, an immense circle filling the heavens; it was formed of all creatures in single file devouring one another; it revolved unceasingly, borne along in the fury of the horrible feast. Fear brought a cold sweat to the child’s brow, when she realised that this feast could have no end, that the creatures would eternally whirl round thus amidst agonising yells.

But this to her mind was a dream; the dear child was ignorant of the fatal law of life which cannot be without death. She believed in the sovereign power of her tears.

This is the fine plan which she had formed, in her simplicity and kindness of heart, for the greater happiness of the animals of her kingdom.

She had scarcely attained power, before she had it proclaimed with sound of trumpet at the cross-roads of every forest, in the poultry-yards, and on the squares of large cities, that every animal tired of a vagrant life, would find sure shelter at the court of the charming Primrose. The proclamation stated, besides, that the pensioners, once instructed in the difficult science of happiness, according to the laws of heart and reason, would enjoy abundant board and be exempt from tears. As winter was drawing near and food becoming scarce, hungry wolves, chilly insects, all the domestic animals in the country, stray cats and dogs, and some five or six dozen curious wild animals answered the young queen’s summons.

She lodged them commodiously in a spacious shed, giving them a thousand comforts which were new to them. Her system of education was as simple as her mind; it consisted in loving her pupils greatly; preaching mutual affection by example. She had a similar cell built for each, without troubling about their different natures, provided them with comfortable beds of straw and heather, clean troughs at a proper height, coverings in winter time, and leafy branches in summer. She sought as far as possible to lead them to forget their vagrant life with its pungent joys; she had therefore regretfully had the barn surrounded with strong iron railings to assist in the conversion, thus placing a barrier between the revolutionary spirit of the beasts outside and the good disposition of her disciples. Morning and night she visited them, assembled them in a common room, where she petted them according to individual deserts. She did not make them long speeches, but incited them to friendly discussions on delicate points of fraternity and abnegation, encouraging well-thinking orators and kindly rebuking those who raised their voices rather too high. Her aim was to blend them little by little into a same people; she hoped to make each species lose its individual language and customs and to lead them all unconsciously to universal unity, confusing for them, by means of continual contact, their various ways of seeing and hearing. Thus she set the weak under the paws of the strong, she brought the grasshopper with its sharp cry and the bull snorting with all the might of its nostrils, to hold converse together, she placed greyhounds beside hares, and foxes in the very midst of hens. But the step she thought the cleverest was to serve the same food in all the porringers. As this food could not be flesh or fish, the ordinary, for one and all, consisted in a basin of milk a day, which was smaller or larger according to the boarder’s appetite.

Everything being planned in this manner, the charming Primrose awaited results. They could not fail to be good, she thought, as the means employed were excellent The men of her kingdom proclaimed themselves happier and happier, losing their temper if ever a philanthropist sought to point out their misery to them. The animals, on the contrary, admitted their misfortunes and endeavoured to attain perfect happiness. At this period, the charming Primrose found herself to be without doubt the best and most satisfied of queens.

Médéric knew no more concerning the Kingdom of the Happy. His friend the bullfinch had given him to understand that one fine morning he had flown away from the hospitable barn, without explaining the reason for that unaccountable flight.

Candidly, that bullfinch must have been a good-for-nothing scapegrace, who did not like milk, but preferred the sun and briars.

IX

WHEREIN MÉDÉRIC POPULARISES ASTRONOMY, HISTORY, THEOLOGY, PHILOSOPHY, EXACT AND NATURAL SCIENCES, AS WELL AS VARIOUS OTHERS.

The giant and the dwarf travelled across country trifling away their time in the sunshine, anxious to reach their destination, but forgetting themselves at each bend of the path. Médéric had once more taken up his quarters in Sidoine’s ear; he was satisfied with the lodging in every way, and continually discovered fresh comforts in it.

The two brothers walked along at random. Médéric allowed himself to be led according to the fancy of Sidoine’s legs, without troubling as to the way; and as these legs easily covered twenty degrees of longitude at a step, it follows that at the end of the first morning, the travellers had already gone an incalculable number of times round the world. Towards noon, Médéric, tired of being silent, was unable to let seas and continents pass by again, without giving his companion a lesson in geography.

“See, my beauty,” he said, “at this present moment there are millions of poor children, shut up in cold rooms, ruining their eyesight and puzzling their brains in studying the world on dirty scraps of paper, coloured blue, green, and red, and covered with lines and strange names like a cabalistic conjuring book. Man is to be pitied for only seeing grand sights when brought down to his own level. Formerly I chanced to glance at one of those books, in which the countries that are known were comprised in some twenty or thirty leaves; it is not an entertaining collection, and is good at the best to stock a child’s memory. Why cannot the sublime work spread out before us, be displayed to them so that they may behold its greatness at a glance? But the children, sons of our mothers, are not of a build to take in the whole page. Angels alone would be capable of true science, should there be some sour-tempered clever old saint up above to give lessons in geography. So as it pleases God to set out this beautiful natural map before us, I wish to take advantage of this rare opportunity to draw your attention to the various manners and customs of the world.”

“Brother Médéric,” interrupted Sidoine, “I am an ignoramus, and greatly fear I shall not understand you. Though talking does not tire you much, it is better for us both that you should keep silent.”

“As usual, my beauty, you speak foolishly. It is just now to my interest to converse with you concerning human knowledge; for, understand, I intend nothing less than to popularise this knowledge. To begin with, do you know the meaning of popularise?”

“No; and even at the risk of again speaking foolishly, I must say that the expression seems to me a barbarous one.”

“To popularise a science, my beauty, means to dilute it, to render it as insipid as possible, that it may be easily understood by the brains of children and persons of small intellect This is what happens: learned men despise truths hidden beneath thick draperies and prefer them in their nakedness; children, concluding rightly that the time for serious study always comes soon enough, continue to play till they reach the age when they can climb the rough road to knowledge without being blindfolded; persons of weak intellect — I allude to those who are not wise enough to stop their ears — hearken as well as they can to the finest diffusion of knowledge, overcram their brains with it, and thus become utter simpletons. So that no one profits by this eminently philanthropical idea which consists in placing science within reach of all, no one, unless it be he who popularises it. He has performed a great feat. You cannot, my beauty, in all conscience, prevent me doing the same if I feel in the least inclined.”

“Talk away, brother Médéric, your speeches do not prevent my walking.”

“Those are wise words. My beauty, pray look attentively at the four points of the horizon. From this height we cannot distinguish our brother men, we can easily mistake their towns for heaps of gray paving-stones, cast into the hollows of the plains or on the slopes of the hills. The world seen thus, presents a spectacle of peculiar grandeur; here long ridges of rocks; there, in the sunken parts, pools of water; then, at distant intervals, some forests forming dark patches on the light-coloured earth. This view possesses the beauty of an immense extent of horizon; but man will always feel more delight in contemplating a hillside cottage with a couple of sweet-briars and a stream of water at its door.”

Sidoine made a wry face on hearing this poetical detail. Médéric resumed:

“It is affirmed that, at distant intervals, frightful earthquakes wreck continents, upheave the seas, and transform the horizon. A new act begins in the great tragedy of Eternity. At the present moment I can imagine I am looking at one of those anterior worlds, when geographers did not exist. Happy mountains, fortunate streams, calm oceans, you live in peace for thousands of centuries, without, names in the sight of God, transitory shapes of a world that may perhaps change tomorrow. My beauty and I, look down on you from above as your Creator must see you, and we do not trouble ourselves concerning the depths of the waters, the heights of the mountains, nor the various temperatures of the countries. Listen, Sidoine, I am popularising more than ever; I am in the midst of the physical geography of the globe. For the Eternal there must exist as many different worlds as there have been subversions. You can understand that. But man, creature of a moment, can only look on the earth from one point of view. Since the birth of Adam the landscapes have not altered; they are such as the waters of the last flood left them to our forefathers. My task is, therefore, singularly simplified. We have only to study stationary lines, a certain clearly defined configuration. The recollection of what we see will suffice. Look and you will be learned. The map is a fine one, I fancy, and you possess sufficient intelligence to open your eyes.”

“I open them, brother; I see oceans, mountains, rivers, islands, and a thousand other things. Even when I close my eyelids I see these things again in darkness; that is no doubt what you termed the recollection of what we see. But I think it would be well to give me the names of these marvels, and to tell me something of the inhabitants after describing the house.”