The Wandering Jew — Complete
"That appears to me more difficult to prove, M. Agricola."
"Yet I will convince you of it in a few minutes."
Thus conversing, Angela and Agricola had reached the garden-gate of the
Common Dwelling-house. An elderly woman, dressed plainly, but with care
and neatness, approached Agricola, and asked him: "Has M. Hardy returned
to the factory, sir?"
"No, madame; but we expect him hourly."
"To-day, perhaps?"
"To-day or to-morrow, madame."
"You cannot tell me at what hour he will be here?"
"I do not think it is known, madame, but the porter of the factory,
who also belongs to M. Hardy's private house, may, perhaps, be able to
inform you."
"I thank you, sir."
"Quite welcome, madame."
"M. Agricola," said Angela, when the woman who had just questioned him
was gone, "did you remark that this lady was very pale and agitated?"
"I noticed it as you did, mademoiselle; I thought I saw tears standing
in her eyes."
"Yes, she seemed to have been crying. Poor woman! perhaps she came to
ask assistance of M. Hardy. But what ails you, M. Agricola? You appear
quite pensive."
Agricola had a vague presentiment that the visit of this elderly woman
with so sad a countenance, had some connection with the adventure of the
young and pretty lady, who, three days before had come all agitated and
in tears to inquire after M. Hardy, and who had learned--perhaps too
late--that she was watched and followed.
"Forgive me, mademoiselle," said Agricola to Angela; "but the presence
of this old lady reminded me of a circumstance, which, unfortunately, I
cannot tell you, for it is a secret that does not belong to me alone."
"Oh! do not trouble yourself, M. Agricola," answered the young girl,
with a smile; "I am not inquisitive, and what we were talking of before
interests me so much, that I do not wish to hear you speak of anything
else."
"Well, then mademoiselle, I will say a few words more, and you will be
as well informed as I am of the secrets of our association."
"I am listening, M. Agricola."
"Let us still keep in view the speculator from mere interest. 'Here are
my workmen, says he, 'in the best possible condition to do a great
deal of work. Now what is to be done to obtain large profits? Produce
cheaply, and sell dear. But there will be no cheapness, without economy
in the use of the raw material, perfection of the manufacturing process,
and celerity of labor. Now, in spite of all my vigilance, how am I to
prevent my workmen from wasting the materials? How am I to induce them,
each in his own province, to seek for the most simple and least irksome
processes?"
"True, M. Agricola; how is that to be done?"
"'And that is not all,' says our man; 'to sell my produce at high
prices, it should be irreproachable, excellent. My workmen do pretty
well; but that is not enough. I want them to produce masterpieces.'"
"But, M. Agricola, when they have once performed the task set them what
interest have workmen to give themselves a great deal of trouble to
produce masterpieces?"
"There it is, Mdlle. Angela; what interest have they? Therefore, our
speculator soon says to himself: 'That my workmen may have an interest
to be economical in the use of the materials, an interest to employ
their time well, an interest to invent new and better manufacturing
processes, an interest to send out of their hands nothing but
masterpieces--I must give them an interest in the profits earned by
their economy, activity, zeal and skill. The better they manufacture,
the better I shall sell, and the larger will be their gain and mine
also.'"
"Oh! now I understand, M. Agricola."
"And our speculator would make a good speculation. Before he was
interested, the workman said: 'What does it matter to me, that I do more
or do better in the course of the day? What shall I gain by it? Nothing.
Well, then, little work for little wages. But now, on the contrary
(he says), I have an interest in displaying zeal and economy. All is
changed. I redouble my activity, and strive to excel the others. If a
comrade is lazy, and likely to do harm to the factory, I have the right
to say to him: 'Mate, we all suffer more or less from your laziness, and
from the injury you are doing the common weal.'"
"And then, M. Agricola, with what ardor, courage, and hope, you must set
to work!"
"That is what our speculator counts on; and he may say to himself,
further: 'Treasures of experience and practical wisdom are often buried
in workshops, for want of goodwill, opportunity, or encouragement.
Excellent workmen, instead of making all the improvements in their
power, follow with indifference the old jog-trot. What a pity! for an
intelligent man, occupied all his life with some special employment,
must discover, in the long run, a thousand ways of doing his work better
and quicker. I will form, therefore, a sort of consulting committee; I
will summon to it my foremen and my most skillful workmen. Our interest
is now the same. Light will necessarily spring from this centre of
practical intelligence.' Now, the speculator is not deceived in this,
and soon struck with the incredible resources, the thousand new,
ingenious, perfect inventions suddenly revealed by his workmen, 'Why'
he exclaims, 'if you knew this, did you not tell it before? What for the
last ten years has cost me a hundred francs to make, would have cost
me only fifty, without reckoning an enormous saving of time.' 'Sir,'
answers the workman, who is not more stupid than others, 'what interest
had I, that you should effect a saving of fifty per cent? None. But now
it is different. You give me, besides my wages, a share in your
profits; you raise me in my own esteem, by consulting my experience and
knowledge. Instead of treating me as an inferior being, you enter into
communion with me. It is my interest, it is my duty, to tell you all I
know, and to try to acquire more.' And thus it is, Mdlle. Angela,
that the speculator can organize his establishment, so as to shame
his oppositionists, and provoke their envy. Now if, instead of a cold
hearted calculator, we tape a man who unites with the knowledge of these
facts the tender and generous sympathies of an evangelical heart, and
the elevation of a superior mind, he will extend his ardent solicitude;
not only to the material comfort, but to the moral emancipation, of
his workmen. Seeking everywhere every possible means to develop their
intelligence, to improve their hearts, and strong in the authority
acquired by his beneficence, feeling that he on whom depends the
happiness or the misery of three hundred human creatures has also the
care of souls, he will be the guide of those whom he no longer calls his
workmen, but his brothers, in a straightforward and noble path, and will
try to create in them the taste for knowledge and art, which will render
them happy and proud of a condition of life that is often accepted by
others with tears and curses of despair. Well, Mdlle. Angela, such a man
is--but, see! he could not arrive amongst us except in the middle of a
blessing. There he is--there is M. Hardy!"
"Oh, M. Agricola!" said Angela, deeply moved, and drying her tears; "we
should receive him with our hands clasped in gratitude."
"Look if that mild and noble countenance is not the image of his
admirable soul!"
A carriage with post horses, in which was M. Hardy, with M. de Blessac,
the unworthy friend who was betraying him in so infamous a manner,
entered at this moment the courtyard of the factory.
A little while after, a humble hackney-coach was seen advancing also
towards the factory, from the direction of Paris. In this coach was
Rodin.
(30) The average price of a workman's lodging, composed of two small
rooms and a closet at most, on the third or fourth story.
(31) This calculation is amply sufficient, if not excessive. A similar
building, at one league from Paris, on the side of Montrouge, with all
the necessary offices, kitchen, wash-houses, etc., with gas and water
laid on, apparatus for warming, etc., and a garden of ten acres, cost,
at the period of this narrative, hardly five hundred thousand francs.
An experienced builder less obliged us with an estimate, which confirms
what we advance. It is, therefore, evident, that, even at the same
price which workmen are in the habit of paying, it would be possible to
provide them with perfectly healthy lodgings, and yet invest one's money
at ten per cent.
(32) The fact was proved in the works connected with the Rouen Railway.
Those French workmen who, having no families, were able to live like the
English, did at least as much work as the latter, being strengthened by
wholesome and sufficient nourishment.
(33) Buying penny-worths, like all other purchases at minute retail, are
greatly to the poor man's disadvantage.
CHAPTER LII. REVELATIONS.
During the visit of Angela and Agricola to the Common Dwelling-house,
the band of Wolves, joined upon the road by many of the haunters
of taverns, continued to march towards the factory, which the
hackney-coach, that brought Rodin from Paris, was also fast approaching.
M. Hardy, on getting out of the carriage with his friend, M. de Blessac,
had entered the parlor of the house that he occupied next the factory.
M. Hardy was of middle size, with an elegant and slight figure, which
announced a nature essentially nervous and impressionable. His forehead
was broad and open, his complexion pale, his eyes black, full at once
of mildness and penetration, his countenance honest, intelligent, and
attractive.
One word will paint the character of M. Hardy. His mother had called him
her Sensitive Plant. His was indeed one of those fine and exquisitely
delicate organizations, which are trusting, loving, noble, generous, but
so susceptible, that the least touch makes them shrink into themselves.
If we join to this excessive sensibility a passionate love for art, a
first-rate intellect, tastes essentially refined, and then think of the
thousand deceptions, and numberless infamies of which M. Hardy must have
been the victim in his career as a manufacturer, we shall wonder how
this heart, so delicate and tender, had not been broken a thousand
times, in its incessant struggle with merciless self-interest. M. Hardy
had indeed suffered much. Forced to follow the career of productive
industry, to honor the engagements of his father, a model of uprightness
and probity, who had yet left his affairs somewhat embarrassed, in
consequence of the events of 1815, he had succeeded, by perseverance
and capacity, in attaining one of the most honorable positions in the
commercial world. But, to arrive at this point, what ignoble annoyances
had he to bear with, what perfidious opposition to combat, what hateful
rivalries to tire out!
Sensitive as he was, M. Hardy would a thousand times have fallen a
victim to his emotions of painful indignation against baseness, of
bitter disgust at dishonesty, but for the wise and firm support of his
mother. When he returned to her, after a day of painful struggles
with odious deceptions, he found himself suddenly transported into an
atmosphere of such beneficent purity, of such radiant serenity, that he
lost almost on the instant the remembrance of the base things by which
he had been so cruelly tortured during the day; the pangs of his heart
were appeased at the mere contact of her great and lofty soul; and
therefore his love for her resembled idolatry. When he lost her, he
experienced one of those calm, deep sorrows which have no end--which
become, as it were, part of life, and have even sometimes their days
of melancholy sweetness. A little while after this great misfortune, M.
Hardy became more closely connected with his workmen. He had always been
a just and good master; but, although the place that his mother left