by Eugène Sue
CHAPTER XXIX. THE DEN.
Rodin's countenance, when he entered Mother Arsene's shop, wasexpressive of the most simple candor. He leaned his hands on the knob ofhis umbrella, and said: "I much regret, my good lady, that I roused youso early this morning."
"You do not come often enough, my dear sir, for me to find fault withyou."
"How can I help it, my good lady? I live in the country, and only comehither from time to time to settle my little affairs."
"Talking of that sir, the letter you expected yesterday has arrivedthis morning. It is large, and comes from far. Here it is," said thegreengrocer, drawing it from her pocket; "it cost nothing for postage."
"Thank you, my dear lady," said Rodin, taking the letter with apparentindifference, and putting it into the side-pocket of his great-coat,which he carefully buttoned over.
"Are you going up to your rooms, sir?"
"Yes, my good, lady."
"Then I will get ready your little provisions," said Mother Arsene; "asusual, I suppose, my dear sir?"
"Just as usual."
"It shall be ready in the twinkling of an eye, sir."
So saying, the greengrocer took down an old basket; after throwinginto it three or four pieces of turf, a little bundle of wood, and somecharcoal, she covered all this fuel with a cabbage leaf; then, going tothe further end of the shop, she took from a chest a large round loaf,cut off a slice, and selecting a magnificent radish with the eye of aconnoisseur, divided it in two, made a hole in it, which she filled withgray salt joined the two pieces together again, and placed it carefullyby the side of the bread, on the cabbage leaf which separated theeatables from the combustibles. Finally, taking some embers from thestove, she put them into a little earthen pot, containing ashes, whichshe placed also in the basket.
Then, reascending to her top step, Mother Arsene said to Rodin: "Here isyour basket, sir."
"A thousand thanks, my good lady," answered Rodin, and plunging hishand into the pocket of his trousers, he drew forth eight sous, which hecounted out only one by one to the greengrocer, and said to her, as hecarried off his store: "Presently, when I come down again, I will returnyour basket as usual."
"Quite at your service, my dear sir, quite at your service," said MotherArsene.
Rodin tucked his umbrella under his left arm, took up the greengrocer'sbasket with his right hand, entered the dark passage, crossed the littlecourt and mounted with light step to the second story of a dilapidatedbuilding; there, drawing a key from his pocket, he opened a door, whichhe locked carefully after him. The first of the two rooms which heoccupied was completely unfurnished, as for the second, it is impossibleto imagine a more gloomy and miserable den. Papering so much worn, tornand faded, that no one could recognize its primitive color, bedeckedthe walls. A wretched flock-bed, covered with a moth-fretted blanket; astool, and a little table of worm-eaten wood; an earthenware stove, ascracked as old china; a trunk with a padlock, placed under the bed--suchwas the furniture of this desolate hole. A narrow window, with dirtypanes, hardly gave any light to this room, which was almost deprivedof air by the height of the building in front; two old cotton pockethandkerchiefs, fastened together with pins, and made to slide upon astring stretched across the window, served for curtains. The plasterof the roof, coming through the broken and disjointed tiles, showed theextreme neglect of the inhabitant of this abode. After locking his door,Rodin threw his hat and umbrella on the bed, placed his basket on theground, set the radish and bread on the table, and kneeling down beforehis stove, stuffed it with fuel, and lighted it by blowing with vigorouslungs on the embers contained in his earthen pot.
When, to use the consecrated expression, the stove began to draw, Rodinspread out the handkerchiefs, which served him for curtains; then,thinking himself quite safe from every eye, he took from the side-pocketof his great-coat the letter that Mother Arsene had given him. In doingso, he brought out several papers and different articles; one of thesepapers, folded into a thick and rumpled packet, fell upon the table,and flew open. It contained a silver cross of the Legion of Honor, blackwith time. The red ribbon of this cross had almost entirely lost itsoriginal color. At sight of this cross, which he replaced in his pocketwith the medal of which Faringhea had despoiled Djalma, Rodin shruggedhis shoulders with a contemptuous and sardonic air; then, producing hislarge silver watch, he laid it on the table by the side of the letterfrom Rome. He looked at this letter with a singular mixture of suspicionand hope, of fear, and impatient curiosity. After a moment's reflection,he prepared to unseal the envelope; but suddenly he threw it down againupon the table, as if, by a strange caprice, he had wished to prolongfor a few minutes that agony of uncertainty, as poignant and irritatingas the emotion of the gambler.
Looking at his watch, Rodin resolved not to open the letter, until thehand should mark half-past nine, of which it still wanted seven minutes.In one of those whims of puerile fatalism, from which great minds havenot been exempt, Rodin said to himself: "I burn with impatience to openthis letter. If I do not open it till half-past nine, the news will befavorable." To employ these minutes, Rodin took several turns up anddown the room, and stood in admiring contemplation before two oldprints, stained with damp and age, and fastened to the wall by rustynails. The first of these works of art--the only ornaments with whichRodin had decorated this hole--was one of those coarse pictures,illuminated with red, yellow, green, and blue, such as are sold atfairs; an Italian inscription announced that this print had beenmanufactured at Rome. It represented a woman covered with rags, bearinga wallet, and having a little child upon her knees; a horrible hag ofa fortune-teller held in her hands the hand of the little child, andseemed to read there his future fate, for these words in large blueletters issued from her mouth: "Sara Papa" (he shall be Pope).
The second of these works of art, which appeared to inspire Rodin withdeep meditations, was an excellent etching, whose careful finish andbold, correct drawing, contrasted singularly with the coarse coloringof the other picture. This rare and splendid engraving, which had costRodin six louis (an enormous expense for him), represented a young boydressed in rags. The ugliness of his features was compensated by theintellectual expression of his strongly marked countenance. Seated ona stone, surrounded by a herd of swine, that he seemed employed inkeeping, he was seen in front, with his elbow resting on his knee, andhis chin in the palm of his hand. The pensive and reflective attitudeof this young man, dressed as a beggar, the power expressed in his largeforehead, the acuteness of his penetrating glance, and the firm linesof the mouth, seemed to reveal indomitable resolution, combined withsuperior intelligence and ready craft. Beneath this figure, the emblemsof the papacy encircled a medallion, in the centre of which was thehead of an old man, the lines of which, strongly marked, recalled ina striking manner, notwithstanding their look of advanced age, thefeatures of the young swineherd. This engraving was entitled THE YOUTHof SIXTUS V.; the color print was entitled The Prediction.(22)
In contemplating these prints more and more nearly, with ardent andinquiring eye, as though he had asked for hopes or inspirations fromthem, Rodin had come so close that, still standing, with his right armbent behind his head, he rested, as it were, against the wall, whilst,hiding his left hand in the pocket of his black trousers, he thus heldback one of the flaps of his olive great-coat. For some minutes, heremained in this meditative attitude.
Rodin, as we have said, came seldom to this lodging; according to therules of his Order, he had till now lived with Father d'Aigrigny,whom he was specially charged to watch. No member of the Society,particularly in the subaltern position which Rodin had hitherto held,could either shut himself in, or possess an article of furniture madeto lock. By this means nothing interferes with the mutual spy-system,incessantly carried on, which forms one of the most powerful resourcesof the Company of Jesus. It was on account of certain combinations,purely personal to himself, though connected on some points with theinterests of the Order, that Rodin, unknown to all, had taken theserooms
in the Rue Clovis. And it was from the depths of this obscureden that the socius corresponded directly with the most eminent andinfluential personages of the sacred college. On one occasion, whenRodin wrote to Rome, that Father d'Aigrigny, having received orders toquit France without seeing his dying mother, had hesitated to set out,the socius had added, in form of postscriptum, at the bottom of theletter denouncing to the General of the Order the hesitation of Fatherd'Aigrigny:
"Tell the Prince Cardinal that he may rely upon me, but I hope for hisactive aid in return."
This familiar manner of corresponding with the most powerful dignitaryof the Order, the almost patronizing tone of the recommendationthat Rodin addressed to the Prince Cardinal, proved that the socius,notwithstanding his apparently subaltern position, was looked upon, atthat epoch, as a very important personage, by many of the Princes of theChurch, who wrote to him at Paris under a false name, making use of acipher and other customary precautions. After some moments passed incontemplation, before the portrait of Sixtus V., Rodin returned slowlyto the table, on which lay the letter, which, by a sort of superstitiousdelay, he had deferred opening, notwithstanding his extreme curiosity.As it still wanted some minutes of half-past nine, Rodin, in order notto lose time, set about making preparations for his frugal breakfast.He placed on the table, by the side of an inkstand, furnished with pens,the slice of bread and the radish; then seating himself on his stool,with the stove, as it were, between his legs, he drew a horn-handledknife from his pocket, and cutting alternately a morsel of bread and amorsel of radish, with a sharp, well-worn blade, he began his temperaterepast with a vigorous appetite, keeping his eye fixed on the hand ofhis watch. When it reached the momentous hour, he unsealed the envelopewith a trembling hand.
It contained two letters. The first appeared to give him littlesatisfaction; for, after some minutes, he shrugged his shoulders, struckthe table impatiently with the handle of his knife, disdainfully pushedaside the letter with the back of his dirty hand, and perused the secondepistle, holding his bread in one hand, and with the other mechanicallydipping a slice of radish into the gray salt spilt on a corner of thetable. Suddenly, Rodin's hand remained motionless. As he progressedin his reading, he appeared more and more interested, surprised, andstruck. Rising abruptly, he ran to the window, as if to assure himself,by a second examination of the cipher, that he was not deceived. Thenews announced to him in the letter seemed to be unexpected. No doubt,Rodin found that he had deciphered correctly, for, letting fall hisarms, not in dejection, but with the stupor of a satisfaction asunforeseen as extraordinary, he remained for some time with his headdown, and his eyes fixed--the only mark of joy that he gave beingmanifested by a loud, frequent, and prolonged respiration. Men who areas audacious in their ambition, as they are patient and obstinate intheir mining and countermining, are surprised at their own success, whenthis latter precedes and surpasses their wise and prudent expectations.Rodin was now in this case. Thanks to prodigies of craft, address, anddissimulation, thanks to mighty promises of corruption, thanks to thesingular mixture of admiration, fear, and confidence, with which hisgenius inspired many influential persons, Rodin now learned from membersof the pontifical government, that, in case of a possible and probableoccurrence, he might, within a given time, aspire, with a good chance ofsuccess, to a position which has too often excited the fear, the hate,or the envy of many sovereigns, and which has in turn, been occupied bygreat, good men, by abominable scoundrels, and by persons risen fromthe lowest grades of society. But for Rodin to attain this end withcertainty, it was absolutely necessary for him to succeed in thatproject, which he had undertaken to accomplish without violence, andonly by the play and the rebound of passions skillfully managed. Theproject was: To secure for the Society of Jesus the fortune of theRennepont family.
This possession would thus have a double and immense result; for Rodin,acting in accordance with his personal views, intended to make of hisOrder (whose chief was at his discretion) a stepping-stone and a meansof intimidation. When his first impression of surprise had passedaway--an impression that was only a sort of modesty of ambition andself diffidence, not uncommon with men of really superior powers--Rodinlooked more coldly and logically on the matter, and almost reproachedhimself for his surprise. But soon after, by a singular contradiction,yielding to one of those puerile and absurd ideas, by which men areoften carried away when they think themselves alone and unobserved,Rodin rose abruptly, took the letter which had caused him such gladsurprise, and went to display it, as it were, before the eyes of theyoung swineherd in the picture: then, shaking his head proudly andtriumphantly, casting his reptile-glance on the portrait, he mutteredbetween his teeth, as he placed his dirty finger on the pontificalemblem: "Eh, brother? and I also--perhaps!"
After this ridiculous interpolation, Rodin returned to his seat, and,as if the happy news he had just received had increased his appetite, heplaced the letter before him, to read it once more, whilst he exercisedhis teeth, with a sort of joyous fury, on his hard bread and radish,chanting an old Litany.
There was something strange, great, and, above all, frightful, in thecontrast afforded by this immense ambition, already almost justifiedby events, and contained, as it were, in so miserable an abode. Fatherd'Aigrigny (who, if not a very superior man, had at least some realvalue, was a person of high birth, very haughty, and placed in the bestsociety) would never have ventured to aspire to what Rodin thus lookedto from the first. The only aim of Father d'Aigrigny, and even thishe thought presumptuous, was to be one day elected General of hisOrder--that Order which embraced the world. The difference of theambitious aptitudes of these two personages is conceivable. When a manof eminent abilities, of a healthy and vivacious nature, concentratesall the strength of his mind and body upon a single point, remaining,like Rodin, obstinately chaste and frugal, and renouncing everygratification of the heart and the senses--the man, who revolts againstthe sacred designs of his Creator, does so almost always in favor ofsome monstrous and devouring passion--some infernal divinity, which,by a sacrilegious pact, asks of him, in return for the bestowal offormidable power, the destruction of every noble sentiment, and of allthose ineffable attractions and tender instincts with which the Maker,in His eternal wisdom and inexhaustible munificence, has so paternallyendowed His creatures.
During the scene that we have just described, Rodin had not perceivedthat the curtain of a window on the third story of the building oppositehad been partially drawn aside, and had half-revealed the sprightly faceof Rose-Pompon, and the Silenus-like countenance of Ninny Moulin.It ensued that Rodin, notwithstanding his barricade of cottonhandkerchiefs, had not been completely sheltered from the indiscreet andcurious examination of the two dancers of the Storm-blown Tulip.
(22) According to the tradition, it was predicted to the mother ofSixtus V., that he would be pope; and, in his youth, he is said to havekept swine.