Here Jacques’ master got up, took Jacques by the lapels and said gravely: ‘Go downstairs.’
Jacques replied coldly: ‘I will not go downstairs.’
His master shook him hard and said: ‘Go down, you scoundrel, obey me.’
‘Scoundrel if you wish, but the scoundrel will not go downstairs. Listen, Monsieur, what I have in my head, as they say, I have in my heels. You are losing your temper for nothing. Jacques is staying where he is and will not go downstairs.’
And then Jacques and his master, who had been restrained up to this point, both lost control at the same time and started shouting.
‘You will go down!’
‘I will not go down!’
‘You will go down!’
‘I will not go down!’
At this noise their hostess came up to see what it was all about but she didn’t get an answer straight away since they carried on shouting.
‘You will go down.’
‘I will not go down.’
Then the master, with heavy heart, stalked up and down the room grumbling: ‘Have you ever seen anything like it?’
The hostess, who was standing there in amazement, said: ‘Messieurs, what’s going on?’
Jacques did not move but said to the hostess: ‘It’s my master. He’s gone off his head. He’s mad.’
MASTER: Soft, you mean.
JACQUES: If you say so.
MASTER (to hostess): Did you hear that?
HOSTESS: He’s wrong, but peace, peace. Speak, one of you or the other, and let me know what it’s all about.
MASTER (to Jacques): Speak, you scoundrel.
JACQUES (to master): Speak yourself.
HOSTESS (to Jacques): Come along, Monsieur Jacques, speak. Your master has ordered you to and after all a master is a master.
Jacques explained the thing to their hostess. When she had heard it the hostess said: ‘Messieurs, do you agree to accept me as arbitrator?’
JACQUES AND HIS MASTER (at the same time): Willingly, willingly, Madame.
‘And will you promise me on your word of honour to carry out my sentence?’
JACQUES AND HIS MASTER: On our word of honour.
Then the hostess sat down at table and taking on the grave manner of a magistrate she said: ‘Having heard the declaration of Monsieur Jacques and having considered the facts which would tend to prove that his master is a good, indeed a very good, in fact too good a master, and that Jacques is not a bad servant although sometimes subject to confound absolute and irrecoverable possession with passing and gratuitous concession, I hereby annul the equality which has been established between them by virtue of lapse of time and hereby recreate it simultaneously. Jacques will go downstairs and when he shall have gone downstairs he shall come back up again and there shall revert to him all the prerogatives he has exercised up to this date. His master shall tender his hand to him and shall say to him in friendship: “Hello, Jacques, I am pleased to see you again”, and Jacques will reply: “And I, Monsieur, am delighted to return.” And I forbid this business ever to be discussed by them or the prerogative of master and servant ever to be re-examined by them again. It is our wish that the one shall order and the other obey, each as best he can, and that there be left between that which the one can and that which the other must the same obscurity as heretofore.’
In finishing this judgement, which she had lifted from some work of that time published on the occasion of a similar quarrel when from one end of the kingdom to the other the entire country could hear the master crying to his servant: ‘You will go down!’, and the servant from his side shouting: ‘I will not go down!’,45 ‘Come along,’ she said to Jacques, ‘give me your arm without any more argument.’
Jacques cried out plaintively: ‘It must have been written up above that I would go downstairs.’
The hostess said to Jacques: ‘It is written up above that at the moment when any man takes a master he will go down, rise up, go forward, go backward or stay where he is without his feet ever being free to refuse the orders of his head. Give me your arm and let my order be fulfilled.’
Jacques gave his arm to their hostess but they had hardly passed the threshold of the room when the master threw himself on to Jacques and embraced him. Then he let go of Jacques to embrace the hostess and then both of them together saying: ‘It is written up above that I shall never get rid of that character there and so long as I live he shall be my master and I shall be his servant.’
The hostess added: ‘And as far as one can tell neither of you will be any the worse off.’
After the hostess had calmed their quarrel, which she took for the first of its kind when there had been more than a hundred like it, and reinstated Jacques in his former position, she carried on about her business and the master said to Jacques: ‘Now that we have calmed down and are in a state where we can make clear judgements, will you not acknowledge it?’
JACQUES: I will admit that when one has given one’s word of honour one must keep it, and since we gave our judge our word of honour not to come back to this business we must speak no more of it.
MASTER: You are right.
JACQUES: But without coming back on this dispute, could we not prevent a hundred more like it by means of some reasonable arrangement?
MASTER: I agree to that.
JACQUES: Whereas it is agreed: Firstly, considering that it is written up above that I am essential to you, that I know it, and that I know that you cannot do without me, I will abuse this advantage each and every time the occasion presents itself.
MASTER: But Jacques, no such agreement was ever made.
JACQUES: Made or not, that’s how it has been for all time, is now, and ever shall be. Do you imagine that other men have not looked for a way to escape from this decree or that you are cleverer than them? Rid yourself of that idea and submit yourself to the rule of a necessity from which you cannot escape.
Whereas it is agreed: Secondly, considering that it is just as impossible for Jacques not to know his ascendancy over his master as it is for his master to be unaware of his own weakness and divest himself of his indulgence, it is therefore necessary that Jacques be insolent, and that for the sake of peace his master not notice. All of this was arranged without our knowledge, all of this was sealed by Fate at the moment when nature created Jacques and his master. It was ordained that you would have the title to the thing and I would have the thing itself. If you wish to oppose yourself to the will of nature you will only make a fool of yourself.
MASTER: But if that is right your lot is worth more than mine.
JACQUES: Who’s arguing with you?
MASTER: Then if that is true I have only to take your place and put you in mine.
JACQUES: Do you know what would happen then? You would lose the title to the thing and still not have it. Let us stay as we are. It suits us both very well, and let the rest of our life be devoted to creating a proverb.
MASTER: What proverb?
JACQUES: Jacques leads his master. It will be said of us first but it will be repeated about a thousand others who are worth more than you or me.
MASTER: That seems to be hard, very hard.
JACQUES: My Master, my dear Master, you are shying away from a needle which will only prick you the harder. That is what has been agreed between us.
MASTER: What relevance has our consent got if it’s a law of necessity?
JACQUES: A lot. Do you not think that it would be useful to know where we stand, clearly and precisely, once and for all? The only reason for all our quarrels up to now is that we had not accepted, for your part, that you would call yourself my master and, for my part, that I would be yours. But now that is all understood and all that remains for us is to carry on our way accordingly.
MASTER: Where the devil did you learn all that?
JACQUES: In the great book. Ah! Master, no matter how much a man may study, reflect and meditate on all the books in the world, he is nothing more than a minor scribe unles
s he has read the great book.
After lunch the sun came out. A few travellers assured them that the stream could now be crossed. Jacques went downstairs. His master paid their hostess very generously. At the door of the inn quite a large number of travellers who had been held back by the bad weather were getting ready to continue on their way. Among these travellers were Jacques and his master, the man who had made the ridiculous marriage and his friend. Those travellers who were on foot had taken their sticks and their bundles, others had got into their wagons or coaches and those with horses were mounted up drinking stirrup cups. Their gracious hostess had a bottle in one hand and was giving out glasses and filling them, not forgetting her own. They all made obliging remarks to her which she replied to with politeness and gaiety. Then they spurred their horses, waved goodbye and went off into the distance.
It so happened that Jacques, his master, the Marquis des Arcis and his young travelling companion were going the same way. Out of these four characters only the last one is unknown to you. He was barely twenty-two or twenty-three. His face showed that he was a person of great timidity. He carried his head a little inclined towards his left shoulder. He was quiet and showed hardly any knowledge of worldly ways. If he bowed he lowered the upper part of his body without moving his legs. When seated he had the peculiar habit of taking the tails of his coat and crossing them on his thighs, keeping his hands in the pockets, and also the peculiar habit of listening to whoever was speaking with his eyes almost shut. From this extraordinary bearing of his, Jacques figured him out, and moving close to his master’s ear he said: ‘I bet you that young man was a monk.’
‘Why is that, Jacques?’
‘You’ll see.’
Our four travellers carried on together, talking about the rain, good weather, their hostess, their host and about the argument the Marquis des Arcis had had about Nicole. This starved and filthy bitch kept wiping herself on his stockings and, after he had chased her away several times with his napkin to no avail, out of impatience he let fly a rather violent kick… And then all of a sudden the conversation turned to this singular attachment women have for animals. Everyone said what they thought. Jacques’ master turned towards Jacques and said: ‘And you, Jacques, what do you think?’
Jacques asked his master if he had ever noticed that no matter what poverty people lived in, even if they hadn’t got enough bread for themselves, they always kept dogs. If he hadn’t noticed that these dogs were always trained to turn circles, walk on their hind legs, dance, retrieve, jump into the air at the name of the king or the queen or play dead, and this training had made them the most unfortunate beasts in the world. From this he concluded that every man wants to command another and that since animals are immediately below the lowest classes of society which are ordered around by all the other classes, these get hold of animals so that they too can order someone around…
‘And so,’ said Jacques, ‘everyone has his dog. The Minister is the King’s dog, the First Secretary is the Minister’s dog, the wife is the husband’s dog, or the husband the wife’s dog. Favori is so-and-so’s dog and Thibault is the man on the corner’s dog.
‘When my master makes me speak when I want to be silent, which in all honesty happens rarely,’ continued Jacques, ‘or when he makes me silent when I want to speak, which is very difficult, or when he asks me to tell the story of my loves when I want to talk about something else, or when I have started the story of my loves and he interrupts me, am I anything other than his dog? Weak men are the dogs of the strong.’
MASTER: But, Jacques, I haven’t noticed this attachment to animals only in the poor. I know many great ladies who are surrounded by packs of dogs, and that’s without counting their cats, parrots and songbirds.
JACQUES: It makes them look ridiculous as well as those around them. They love nobody and nobody loves them and so they throw this emotion which they don’t know what to do with to their dogs.
MARQUIS DES ARCIS: To love animals means to throw one’s heart to the dogs. That is a singular interpretation.
MASTER: What they give to those animals would be enough to feed two or three of the poor.
JACQUES: Does that surprise you now?
MASTER: No.
The Marquis des Arcis turned his eyes on Jacques, smiled at his ideas, and then, speaking to his master, he said: ‘That is a most extraordinary servant you have there.’
MASTER: A servant. You are too kind. It is I who am his. And he almost proved it to me this morning in due and established form.
While they were talking they arrived at the place where they were to spend the night, and took rooms together. Jacques’ master and the Marquis des Arcis had supper together. Jacques and the young man were served separately. The master explained to the Marquis in four words the story of Jacques and his fatalistic turn of mind. The Marquis spoke of the young man who was with him. He had been a Premonstratensian and had left his abbey through a bizarre incident.46 Some friends of the Marquis had recommended him to the Marquis who had made him his secretary while waiting for better things.
‘That’s funny.’
‘What do you find funny about that?’
‘I was speaking of Jacques. Hardly had we gone into the inn we have just left when Jacques whispered to me: “Monsieur, take a good look at that young man. I bet that he was a monk.” ’
‘He guessed correctly, but I don’t know how. Do you normally go to bed early?’
‘Not usually, and this evening I am in even less of a hurry since we have only made half a day’s travel.’
‘If you have nothing more useful or agreeable to do I will tell you the story of my secretary. It’s rather unusual.’
‘I’ll be glad to hear it.’
I can hear you, Reader, you are asking me: ‘What about the story of Jacques’ loves?…’
Do you think that I am not as curious as you? Have you forgotten that Jacques loved to speak, and especially about himself, which is the normal obsession of people of his condition, an obsession which raises them from their debasement, which puts them on a pedestal and suddenly transforms them into interesting people? What do you think is the reason that the populace is attracted to public executions? Inhumanity? Well, you are wrong. The populace is not inhuman but if it could it would tear from the hands of justice the unfortunate man around whose gallows it gathers.
The man in the street goes to the Place de Grève so that he can see something which he can in his turn tell to others in his suburb. Whatever the scene it doesn’t matter, just so long as it gives him a role to play, makes his neighbours gather round him, and makes them listen to him. Put on some exciting festival on the boulevard and you will see that the place of execution will be empty. The populace is hungry for something to look at and goes there because it enjoys seeing it and even more enjoys telling others about it afterwards. The populace is terrible in its fury but that does not last long. Its own poverty has made it compassionate and it turns its eyes away from the spectacle of horror which it has gone to see, is moved to pity and goes home crying.
Everything which I have just told you, Reader, I was told by Jacques. I admit it to you because I do not like to take the credit for the cleverness of others. Jacques knew neither the word vice nor the word virtue. He claimed that we were all born at a good or an evil hour. When he heard the words reward or punishment he used to shrug his shoulders. According to him reward was the encouragement of the good and punishment the fear of the wicked. How could it be otherwise, he used to ask, if we have no freedom and our destiny is written up above? He believed that a man follows his path towards glory or ignominy as ineluctably as a boulder with consciousness of its self might roll down the side of a mountain, and that if the series of causes and effects which form the life of a man, beginning at the first moment of his birth up to his last breath, were known to us, we would remain convinced that he had only ever done the inevitable.
I have often argued the contrary with him but to no avail and witho
ut success. What does one say to somebody who says: ‘Whatever the sum total of the elements I am composed of I am still one entity. Now one cause has only one effect. I have always been one single cause and I have therefore only ever had one effect to produce. My existence in time is therefore nothing more than a series of necessary effects’?
Thus did Jacques reason in the manner of his Captain. The distinction between a physical world and a moral world seemed to him to be devoid of sense. His Captain had crammed into Jacques’ head all these opinions which he had found in his Spinoza, whom he knew by heart. According to this system one might imagine that Jacques neither rejoiced in nor despaired of anything. But that was not, however, quite correct. He acted more or less like you and me. He thanked his benefactor so that he might do him more good and got angry with the unjust man. When people pointed out to him that this was like a dog biting the stone that hurt him, he would say: ‘No, the stone that the dog bites will not correct itself but the unjust man is often corrected by the stick.’
Like you and me he was often inconsistent, and inclined to forget his principles, except, of course, in the moments when his philosophy dominated him and then he would say: ‘That had to be so because it was written up above.’
He tried to anticipate misfortune and while he showed the greatest disdain for prudence he was always prudent. When misfortune struck he came back to his motto and was always consoled by it. Otherwise he was a good man, frank, honest, courageous, loyal, faithful, very stubborn, even more talkative and as upset as you and me at having started the story of his loves with hardly any hope of finishing it.47
Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master Page 20