The Wandering Jew — Complete
the worst passions seemed to forbode the most deplorable consequences.
Holding each other arm-in-arm, and walking four or five together, the
Wolves gave vent to their excitement in war-songs, which closed with the
following verse:
"Forward! full of assurance! Let us try our vigorous arms! They have
wearied out our prudence; Let us show we've no alarms. Sprung from a
monarch glorious,(28) To-day we'll not grow pale, Whether we win the
fight, or fail, Whether we die, or are victorious! Children of Solomon,
mighty king, All your efforts together bring, Till in triumph we shall
sing!"
Morok and Jacques had disappeared whilst the tumultuous troop were
leaving the tavern to hasten to the factory.
(27) Let it be noted, to the working-man's credit, that such outrageous
scenes become more and more rare as he is enlightened to the full
consciousness of his worth. Such better tendencies are to be attributed
to the just influence of an excellent tract on trades' union written
by M. Agricole Perdignier, and published in 1841, Paris. This author, a
joiner, founded at his own expense an establishment in the Faubourg St.
Antoine, where some forty or fifty of his trade lodged, and were given,
after the day's work, a course of geometry, etc., applied to wood
carving. We went to one of the lectures, and found as much clearness
in the professor as attention and intelligence in the audience. At ten,
after reading selections, all the lodgers retire, forced by their scanty
wages to sleep, perhaps, four in a room. M. Perdignier informed us that
study and instruction were such powerful ameliorators, that, during
six years, he had only one of his lodgers to expel. "In a few days,"
he remarked, "the bad eggs find out, this is no place for them to addle
sound ones!" We are happy to hear, reader, public homage to a learned
and upright man, devoted to his fellow-workmen.
(28) The Wolves (among others) ascribe the institution of their company
to King Solomon. See the curious work by M. Agricole Perdignier, from
which the war-song is extracted.
CHAPTER L. THE COMMON DWELLING-HOUSE
Whilst the Wolves, as we have just seen, prepared a savage attack on
the Devourers, the factory of M. Hardy had that morning a festal air,
perfectly in accordance with the serenity of the sky; for the wind was
from the north, and pretty sharp for a fine day in March. The clock had
just struck nine in the Common Dwelling-house of the workmen, separated
from the workshops by a broad path planted with trees. The rising sun
bathed in light this imposing mass of buildings, situated a league from
Paris, in a gay and salubrious locality, from which were visible the
woody and picturesque hills, that on this side overlook the great city.
Nothing could be plainer, and yet more cheerful than the aspect of the
Common Dwelling-house of the workmen. Its slanting roof of red tiles
projected over white walls, divided here and there by broad rows of
bricks, which contrasted agreeably with the green color of the blinds on
the first and second stories.
These buildings, open to the south and east, were surrounded by a large
garden of about ten acres, partly planted with trees, and partly laid
out in fruit and kitchen-garden. Before continuing this description,
which perhaps will appear a little like a fairy-tale, let us begin by
saying, that the wonders, of which we are about to present the sketch,
must not to be considered Utopian dreams; nothing, on the contrary,
could be of a more positive character, and we are able to assert, and
even to prove (what in our time is of great weight and interest),
that these wonders were the result of an excellent speculation, and
represented an investment as lucrative as it was secure. To undertake
a vast, noble, and most useful enterprise; to bestow on a considerable
number of human creatures an ideal prosperity, compared with the
frightful, almost homicidal doom, to which they are generally condemned;
to instruct them, and elevate them in their own esteem; to make them
prefer to the coarse pleasures of the tavern, or rather to the fatal
oblivion which they find there, as an escape from the consciousness
of their deplorable destiny, the pleasures, of the intellect and the
enjoyments of art; in a word, to make men moral by making them happy,
and finally, thanks to this generous example, so easy of imitation, to
take a place amongst the benefactors of humanity--and yet, at the same
time to do, as it were, without knowing it, an excellent stroke of
business--may appear fabulous. And yet this was the secret of the
wonders of which we speak.
Let us enter the interior of the factory. Ignorant of Mother Bunch's
cruel disappearance, Agricola gave himself up to the most happy,
thoughts as he recalled Angela's image, and, having finished dressing
with unusual care, went in search of his betrothed.
Let us say two words on the subject of the lodging, which the smith
occupied in the Common Dwelling-house, at the incredibly low rate
of seventy-five francs per annum like the other bachelors on the
establishment. This lodging, situated on the second story, was comprised
of a capital chamber and bedroom, with a southern aspect, and looking
on the garden; the pine floor was perfectly white and clean; the iron
bedstead was supplied with a good mattress and warm coverings; a gas
burner and a warm-air pipe were also introduced into the rooms, to
furnish light and heat as required; the walls were hung with pretty
fancy papering, and had curtains to match; a chest of drawers, a walnut
table, a few chairs, a small library, comprised Agricola's furniture.
Finally, in the large and light closet, was a place for his clothes, a
dressing table, and large zinc basin, with an ample supply of water.
If we compare this agreeable, salubrious, comfortable lodging, with the
dark, icy, dilapidated garret, for which the worthy fellow paid ninety
francs at his mother's, and to get to which he had more than a league
and a half to go every evening, we shall understand the sacrifice he
made to his affection for that excellent woman.
Agricola, after casting a last glance of tolerable satisfaction at his
looking-glass, while he combed his moustache and imperial, quitted his
chamber, to go and join Angela in the women's workroom. The corridor,
along which he had to pass, was broad, well-lighted from above, floored
with pine, and extremely clean. Notwithstanding some seeds of discord
which had been lately sown by M. Hardy's enemies amongst his workmen,
until now so fraternally united, joyous songs were heard in almost
all the apartments which skirted the corridor, and, as Agricola passed
before several open doors, he exchanged a cordial good-morrow with many
of his comrades. The smith hastily descended the stairs, crossed
the court yard, in which was a grass-plot planted with trees, with a
fountain in the centre, and gained the other wing of the building. There
was the workroom, in which a portion of the wives and daughters of the
associated artisans, who happened not to be employed in the factory,
occupied themselves in making up the linen. This labor, joined to the
enormous saving effected by the purchase of the materials wholesale,
reduced to an incredible extent the price of each article. After
passing through this workroom, a vast apartment looking on the garden,
well-aired in summer,(29) and well-warmed in winter, Agricola knocked at
the door of the rooms occupied by Angela's mother.
If we say a few words with regard to this lodging, situated on the first
story, with an eastern aspect, and also looking on the garden, it is
that we may tape it as a specimen of the habitation of a family in this
association, supplied at the incredibly small price of one hundred and
twenty-five francs per annum.
A small entrance, opening on the corridor, led to a large room, on each
side of which was a smaller chamber, destined for the family, when the
boys and girls were too big to continue to sleep in the two dormitories,
arranged after the fashion of a large school, and reserved for the
children of both sexes. Every night the superintendence of these
dormitories was entrusted to a father and mother of a family, belonging
to the association. The lodging of which we speak, being, like all the
others, disencumbered of the paraphernalia of a kitchen--for the
cooking was done in common, and on a large scale, in another part of the
building--was kept extremely clean. A pretty large piece of carpet,
a comfortable arm-chair, some pretty-looking china on a stand of well
polished wood, some prints hung against the walls, a clock of gilt
bronze, a bed, a chest of drawers, and a mahogany secretary, announced
that the inhabitants of this apartment enjoyed not only the necessaries,
but some of the luxuries of life. Angela, who, from this time, might
be called Agricola's betrothed, justified in every point the flattering
portrait which the smith had drawn of her in his interview with poor
Mother Bunch. The charming girl, seventeen years of age at most, dressed
with as much simplicity as neatness, was seated by the side of her
mother. When Agricola entered, she blushed slightly at seeing him.
"Mademoiselle," said Agricola, "I have come to keep my promise, if your
mother has no objection."
"Certainly, M. Agricola," answered the mother of the young girl
cordially. "She would not go over the Common Dwelling-house with her
father, her brother, or me, because she wished to have that pleasure
with you today. It is quite right that you, who can talk so well, should
do the honors of the house to the new-comer. She has been waiting for
you an hour, and with such impatience!"
"Pray excuse me, mademoiselle," said Agricola, gayly; "in thinking of
the pleasure of seeing you, I forgot the hour. That is my only excuse."
"Oh, mother!" said the young girl, in a tone of mild reproach, and
becoming red as a cherry, "why did you say that?"
"Is it true, yes or no? I do not blame you for it; on the contrary. Go
with M. Agricola, child, and he will tell you, better than I can, what
all the workmen of the factory owe to M, Hardy."
"M. Agricola," said Angela, tying the ribbons of her pretty cap, "what a
pity that your good little adopted sister is not with us."
"Mother Bunch?--yes, you are right, mademoiselle; but that is only a
pleasure put off, and the visit she paid us yesterday will not be the
last."
Having embraced her mother, the girl took Agricola's arm, and they went
out together.
"Dear me, M. Agricola," said Angela; "if you knew how much I was
surprised on entering this fine house, after being accustomed to see so
much misery amongst the poor workmen in our country, and in which I too
have had my share, whilst here everybody seems happy and contented. It
is really like fairy-land; I think I am in a dream, and when I ask my
mother the explanation of these wonders, she tells me, 'M. Agricola will
explain it all to you.'"
"Do you know why I am so happy to undertake that delightful task,
mademoiselle?" said Agricola, with an accent at once grave and tender.
"Nothing could be more in season."
"Why so, M. Agricola?"
"Because, to show you this house, to make you acquainted with all the
resources of our association, is to be able to say to you: 'Here, the
workman, sure of the present, sure of the future, is not, like so many
of his poor brothers, obliged to renounce the sweetest want of the
heart--the desire of choosing a companion for life--in the fear of
uniting misery to misery."'
Angela cast down her eyes, and blushed.
"Here the workman may safely yield to the hope of knowing the sweet joys
of a family, sure of not having his heart torn hereafter by the sight
of the horrible privations of those who are dear to him; here, thanks to