Lost Illusions Ève and David by Honoré de Balzac Chapter 6

VI. As the storm of misfortune grew, Eve's courage redoubled. The greatness of her husband's nature, his inventor's simplicity, the tears that now and again she saw in the eyes of this dreamer of dreams with the tender heart—all these things aroused in her an unsuspected energy of resistance. Once again she tried the plan that had succeeded so well already. She wrote to M. Métivier, reminding him that the printing office was for sale, offered to pay him out of the proceeds, and begged him not to ruin David with needless costs. Métivier received the heroic letter and shammed dead. His head clerk replied that in the absence of M. Métivier he could not take it upon himself to stay proceedings, for his employer had made it a rule to let the law take its course. Eve wrote again, offering this time to renew the bills and pay all the costs hitherto incurred. To this the clerk consented, provided that Seychard, Sr. guaranteed payment. So Eve walked over to Marsac, taking Kolbe and her mother with her. She braved the old fine-dresser, and so charming was she, that the old man's face relaxed and the puckers smoothed out at the sight of her. But when, with inward quakings, she came to speak of a guarantee, she beheld a sudden and complete change of the typolographic countenance. If I allowed my son to put his hand to the lips of my cash-box whenever he had a mind, he would plunge it deep into the vitals, he would take all I have," cried old Seychard. That is the way with children, they eat up their parents' purse. What did I do myself, eh? I never cost my parents a farthing. Your printing-office is standing idle, the rats and the mice do all the printing that is done in it. You have a pretty face, I am very fond of you. You are a careful, hard-working woman, but that's son of mine. Do you know what David is? I'll tell you. He is a scholar that will never do a stroke of work. If I had reared him as I was reared myself, without knowing his letters, and if I had made a bear of him, like his father before him, he would have money saved and put out to interest by now. Oh, he is my cross, that fellow is, look you, and unluckily he is all the family I have, for there is never like to be a later addition. And when he makes you unhappy—Eve protested with a vehement gesture of denial—yes, he does, affirmed old Seychard. You had to find a wet-nurse for the child. Come, come, I know all about it. You are in the county court, and the whole town is talking about you. I was only a bear, I have no book-learning, I was not foreman at the Didot's, the first printers in the world. But yet I never set eyes on a bit of stamped paper. Do you know what I say to myself as I go to and fro among my vines, looking after them and getting in my vintage and doing my bits of business? I say to myself, you are taking a lot of trouble, poor old chap, working to pile one silver crown on another. You will leave a fine property behind you, and the bailiffs and the lawyers will get it all, or else it will go in nonsensical notions and crotchets. Look you here, child, you are the mother of yonder little lad. It seemed to me as I held him at the font with Madame Chardin that I could see his old grandfather's copper nose on his face. Very well, think less of Seychard and more of that little rascal. I can trust no one but you. You will prevent him from squandering my property, my poor property. But dear Papa Seychard, your son will be a credit to you, you will see. He will make money and be a rich man one of these days, and wear the cross of the Legion of Honor at his buttonhole. What is he going to do to get it? You will see. But meanwhile, would a thousand crowns ruin you? A thousand crowns would put an end to the proceedings. Well, if you cannot trust him, lend the money to me, I will pay it back. You could make it a charge on my portion, on my earnings." Then has someone brought David into a court of law? cried the vinedresser, amazed to find that the gossip was really true. See what comes of knowing how to write your name! And how about my rent? Oh, little girl, I must go to Angoulême at once and ask Cachon's advice, and see that I am straight. You did right well to come over, forewarned is forearmed. After two hours of argument Eve was fain to go, defeated by the unanswerable dictum, Women never understand business. She had come with a faint hope. She went back again almost heart-broken, and reached home just in time to receive notice of judgment. Seychard must pay me TVA in full. The appearance of a bailiff at a house-door is an event in a country town, and Dublon had come far too often of late. The whole neighborhood was talking about the Seychards. Eve dared not leave her house. She dreaded to hear the whispers as she passed. Oh, my brother, my brother! cried poor Eve, as she hurried into the passage and up the stairs. I can never forgive you, unless it was— Alas! it was that, or suicide, said David, who had followed her. Let us say no more about it, she said quietly. The woman who dragged him down into the depths of Paris has much to answer for, and your father, my David, is quite inexorable. Let us bear it in silence. A discreet rapping at the door cut short some word of love on David's lips. Marion appeared, towing the big burly Kolb after her across the outer room. Madame, said Marion, we have known, Kolb and I, that you and the master were very much put about, and as we have eleven hundred francs of savings between us, we thought we could not do better than put them in the mistress's hands. The mistress echoed Kolb fervently. Kolb, cried David, you and I will never part. Pay a thousand francs on account to Maitre Cachon, and take a receipt for it. We will keep the rest. And Kolb, no power on earth must extract a word from you as to my work, or my absences from home, or the things you may see me bring back. And if I send you to look for plants for me, you know, no human being must set eyes on you. They will try to corrupt you, my good Kolb. They will offer you thousands, perhaps tens of thousands of francs, to tell. They may offer me millions, cried Kolb, but not a word from me shall they draw. Have I not been in their army, and know my orders? Well, you are warned. March and ask M. Petitclos to go with you as witness." Yes, said the Alsatian. Some day I hope to be rich enough to dust a jacket of that man of law. I don't like his countenance. Kolb is a good man, madame, said big Marion. He is as strong as a Turk and as meek as a lamb. Just the one that would make a woman happy. It was his notion, too, to invest our savings this way—safings, as he calls them. Poor man, if he doesn't speak right, he thinks right, and I understand him all the same. He has a notion of working for somebody else so as to save us his keep. Surely we shall be rich, if it is only to repay these good folk, said David, looking at his wife. Love thought it quite simple. It was no surprise to her to find other natures on a level with her own. The dullest, nay, the most indifferent observer could have seen all the beauty of her nature in her way of receiving this service. You will be rich some day, dear master, said Marion. Your bread is ready baked. Your father has just bought another farm. He is putting by money for you that he is. And under the circumstances did not Marion show an exquisite delicacy of feeling by belittling, as it were, her kindness in this way. French procedure, like all things human, has its defects. Nevertheless, the sword of justice, being a two-edged weapon, is excellently adapted alike for attack or defense. Procedure, moreover, has its amusing side. For when opposed, lawyers arrive at an understanding, as they well may do, without exchanging a word. Through their manner of conducting their case, a suit becomes a kind of war waged on the lines laid down by the first Marshal Biron, who, at the siege of Rouen, it may be remembered, received his son's project for taking the city in two days, with the remark, You must be in a great hurry to go and plant cabbages. Let two commanders-in-chief spare their troops as much as possible. Let them imitate the Austrian generals, who give the men time to eat their soup, though they fail to affect a juncture, and escape reprimand from the Aulic council. Let them avoid all decisive measures, and they shall carry on a war for ever. Maitre Cachon, Petit Clos, and Dublan did better than the Austrian generals. They took for their example Quintus Fabius Conctator, the Austrian of antiquity. Petit Clos, malignant as a mule, was not long in finding out all the advantages of his position. No sooner had Boniface Cointe guaranteed his costs, than he vowed to lead Cachon a dance, and to dazzle the paper-manufacturer with a brilliant display of genius in the creation of items to be charged to Métivier. Unluckily for the fame of the young forensic figaro, the writer of this history is obliged to pass over the scene of his exploits in as great a hurry as if he trod on burning coals. But a single bill of costs, in the shape of the specimen sent from Paris, will no doubt suffice for the student of contemporary manners. Let us follow the example set us by the bulletins of the Grande Armée, and give a summary of Petit Clos's valiant feats and exploits in the province of pure law. They will be the better appreciated for concise treatment. David Seychard was summoned before the Tribunal of Commerce at Angoulême for the 3rd of July, made default, and notice of judgment was served on the 8th. On the 10th, Dublon obtained an execution warrant, and attempted to put in an execution on the 12th. On this, Petit Clos applied for an interpleader summons, and served notice on Métivier for that day fortnight. Métivier made application for a hearing without delay, and on the 19th, Seychard's application was dismissed. Hard upon this followed notice of judgment, authorizing the issue of an execution warrant on the 22nd, a warrant of arrest on the 23rd, and bailiff's inventory previous to the execution on the 24th. Métivier, Dublon, Cachon, and company were proceeding at this furious pace, when Petit Clos suddenly pulled them up, and stayed execution, by lodging notice of appeal on the court royal. Notice of appeal, duly reiterated on the 25th of July, drew Métivier off to Poitiers. Come, said Petit Clos to himself, there we are likely to stop for some time to come. No sooner was the storm passed over to Poitiers, and an attorney practicing in the court royal instructed to defend the case, than Petit Clos, a champion facing both ways, made application in Madame Seychard's name for the immediate separation of her estate from her husband's, using all diligence in legal language to such purpose, that he obtained an order from the court on the 28th, and inserted notice at once in the Charente Courrier. Now David, the lover, had settled 10,000 francs upon his wife in the marriage contract, making over to her as security the fixtures of the printing office and the household furniture, and Petit Clos, therefore, constituted Madame Seychard her husband's creditor for that small amount, drawing up a statement of her claims on the estate in the presence of a notary on the 1st of August. While Petit Clos was busy securing the household property of his clients, he gained the day at Poitiers on the point of law on which the demurrer and appeals were based. He held that, as the court of the Seine had ordered the plaintiff to pay costs of proceedings in the Paris commercial court, David was so much the less liable for expenses of litigation incurred upon Lucien's account. The court royal took this view of the case, and judgment was entered accordingly. David Seychard was ordered to pay the amount in dispute in the Angoulême court, lest the law expenses incurred in Paris. These Métiviers must pay, and each side must bear its own costs in appeal to the court royal. David Seychard was duly notified of the result on the 17th of August. On the 18th, the judgment took the practical shape of an order to pay capital interests and costs, followed up by notice of an execution for the moro. On this, Petitclo intervened and put in a claim for the furniture as the wife's property, duly separated from her husband's. And what was more, Petitclo produced Seychard senior upon the scene of action. The old vine-grower had become his client on this wise. He came to Angoulême on the day after Eve's visit, and went to Maitre Cachon for advice. His son owed him arrears of rent. How could he come by this rent in the scrimmage in which his son was engaged? I am engaged by the other side, pronounced Cachon, and I cannot appear for the father when I am suing the son. But go to Petitclo. He is very clever. He may perhaps do even better for you than I should do. Cachon and Petitclo met at the court. I have sent you Seychard senior, said Cachon. Take the case for me in exchange. Brothers do each other services of this kind in country towns as well as in Paris. The day after Seychard senior gave Petitclo his confidence, the tall quantet paid a visit to his confederate. Try to give old Seychard a lesson, he said. He is the kind of man that will never forgive his son for costing him a thousand francs or so. The outlay will dry up any generous thoughts in his mind, if he ever has any. Go back to your vines, said Petitclo to his new client. Your son is not very well off. Do not eat him out of house and home. I will send for you when the time comes. On behalf of Seychard senior, therefore, Petitclo claimed that the presses, being fixtures, were so much the more to be regarded as tools and implements of trade, and the less liable to seizure, in that the house had been a printing office since the reign of Louis XIV. Cachon, on Métivier's account, waxed indignant at this. In Paris, Lucien's furniture had belonged to Coralie, and here again, in Angoulême, David's goods and chattels all belonged to his wife or his father. Pretty things were said in court. Father and son were summoned. Such claims could not be allowed to stand. We mean to unmask the frauds entrenched behind bad faith of the most formidable kind. Here is the defense of dishonesty, bristling with the plainest and most innocent articles of the Code, and why, to avoid repayment of three thousand francs, obtained how? From poor Métivier's cash box. And yet there are those who dare to say a word against bill discounters. What times we live in! Now I put it to you. What is this but taking your neighbor's money? You will surely not sanction a claim which would bring immorality to the very core of justice. Cachon's eloquence produced an effect on the court. A divided judgment was given, in favor of Madame Seychard, the house furniture being held to be her property, and against Seychard, Sr., who was ordered to pay costs, four hundred and thirty-four francs, sixty-five centimes. It is kind of old Seychard, laughed the lawyers. He would have a finger in the pie, so let him pay. Notice of judgment was given on the twenty-sixth of August. The presses and plant could be seized on the twenty-eighth. Placards were posted. Application was made for an order empowering them to sell on the spot. Announcements of the sale appeared in the papers, and Dublon flattered himself that the inventory should be verified, and the auction take place on the second of September. By this time David Seychard owed Métivier five thousand two hundred and seventy-five francs, twenty-five centimes, to say nothing of interest, by formal judgment confirmed by appeal, the bill of costs having been duly taxed. Likewise, to Petit-Clo, he owed twelve hundred francs, exclusive of the fees which were left to David's generosity, with the generous confidence displayed by the hackney coachman, who has driven you so quickly over the road on which you desire to go. Madame Seychard owed Petit-Clo something like three hundred and fifty francs, and fees besides, and of old Seychard, besides four hundred and thirty-four francs, sixty-five centimes, the little attorney demanded a hundred crowns, by way of fee. Altogether the Seychard family owed about ten thousand francs. This is what is called putting fire into the bed-straw. Apart from the utility of these documents to other nations, who thus may behold the battery of French law in action, the French legislator ought to know the lengths to which the abusive procedure may be carried, always supposing that the said legislator can find time for reading. Surely some sort of regulation might be devised, some way of forbidding lawyers to carry on a case until the sum in dispute is more than eaten up in costs. Is there not something ludicrous in the idea of submitting a square yard of soil, and an estate of thousands of acres, to the same legal formalities? These bare outlines of the history of the various stages of procedure should open the eyes of Frenchmen to the meaning of the words legal formalities, justice, and costs, little as the immense majority of the nations know about them. Five thousand pounds' weight of type in the printing-office were worth two thousand francs as old metal. The three presses were valued at six hundred francs. The rest of the plant would fetch the price of old iron and firewood. The household furniture would have brought in a thousand francs at most. The whole personal property of Seychard, Jr., therefore, represented the sum of four thousand francs, and Cachon and Petitclos made claims for seven thousand francs in costs already incurred, to say nothing of expenses to come, for the blossom gave promise of fine fruits enough, as the reader will shortly see. Surely the lawyers of France and Navarre, nay, even of Normandy herself, will not refuse Petitclos his meat of admiration and respect. Surely too kind hearts will give Marion and Kolb a tear of sympathy. All through the war Kolb sat on a chair in the doorway, acting as watchdog, when David had nothing else for him to do. It was Kolb who received all the notifications, and a clerk of Petitclos kept watch over Kolb. No sooner were the placards announcing the auction put up on the premises than Kolb tore them down. He hurried round the town after the bill-poster, tearing the placards from the walls. Ah, scoundrels, he cried, to dormance so good a man, and they calls it justice. Marion made half a franc a day by working half-time in a paper-mill as a machine-tender, and her wages contributed to the support of the household. Madame Chardin went back uncomplainingly to her old occupation, sitting up night after night, and bringing home her wages at the end of the week. Poor Madame Chardin! Twice already she had made a nine-days prayer for those she loved, wondering that God should be so deaf to her petitions, and blind to the light of the candles on his altar. On the 2nd of September a letter came from Lucien, the first since the letter of the winter which David had kept from his wife's knowledge, the announcement of the three bills which bore David's signature. This time Lucien wrote to Eve. The third since he left us, she said. Poor sister, she was afraid to open the envelope that covered the fatal sheet. She was feeding the little one when the post came in. They could not afford a wet-nurse now, and the child was being brought up by hand. Her state of mind may be imagined, and David's also, when he had been roused to read the letter, for David had been at work all night, and only lay down at daybreak. Lucien to Eve. Paris, August 29. My dear sister, Two days ago, at five o'clock in the morning, one of God's noblest creatures breathed her last in my arms. She was the one woman on earth capable of loving me as you and mother and David love me, giving me besides that unselfish affection something that neither mother nor sister can give, the utmost bliss of love. Poor Coralie, after giving up everything for my sake, may perhaps have died for me. For me, who at this moment have not the wherewithal to bury her. She could have solaced my life. You and you alone, my dear good angels, can console me for her death. God has forgiven her, I think, the innocent girl, for she died like a Christian. Oh, this Paris! Eve, Paris is the glory and the shame of France. Many illusions I have lost here already, and I have others yet to lose, when I begin to beg for the little money needed before I can lay the body of my angel in consecrated earth. Your unhappy brother, Lucien. P.S. I must have given you much trouble by my heedlessness. One day you will know all, and you will forgive me. You must be quite easy now. A worthy merchant, a Monsieur Camusot, to whom I once caused cruel pangs, promised to arrange everything, seeing that Coralie and I were so much distressed. The sheet is still moist with his tears, said Eve, looking at the letter with a heart so full of sympathy that something of the old love for Lucien shone in her eyes. Your fellow, he must have suffered cruelly if he has been loved as he says, exclaimed Eve's husband, happy in his love, and these two forgot all their own troubles at this cry of a supreme sorrow. Just at that moment Marion rushed in. Madame, she panted, here they are, here they are. Who is here? Dublon and his men, bad luck to them, Cobe will not let them come in, they have come to sell us up. No, no, they are not going to sell you up, never fear, cried a voice in the next room, and Petit Clos appeared upon the scene. I have just lodged notice of appeal. We ought not to sit down under a judgment that attaches a stigma of bad faith to us. I did not think it worth while to fight the case here. I let Cachon talk to gain time for you. I am sure of gaining the day at Poitiers. But how much will it cost to win the day, asked Madame Seychard. Fees if you win, one thousand francs if we lose our case. Oh dear, cried poor Eve, why the remedy is worse than the disease. Petit Clos was not a little confused at this cry of innocence, enlightened by the progress of the flames of litigation. It struck him too that Eve was a very beautiful woman. In the middle of the discussion, old Seychard arrived, summoned by Petit Clos. The old man's presence in the chamber, where his little grandson in the cradle lay smiling at misfortune, completed the scene. The young attorney at once addressed the newcomer with, You owe me seven hundred francs for the interpleader, Papa Seychard, but you can charge the amount to your son, in addition to the arrears of rent. The vinedresser felt the sting of the sarcasm conveyed by Petit Clos' tone and manner. It would have cost you less to give security for the debt at first, said Eve, leaving the cradle to greet her father-in-law with a kiss. David, quite overcome by the sight of the crowd outside the house, for Cobb's resistance to Dublon's men had collected a knot of people, could only hold out a hand to his father. He did not say a word. And how, pray, do I come to owe you seven hundred francs? the old man asked, looking at Petit Clos. Why, in the first place, I am engaged by you. Your rent is in question, so, as far as I am concerned, you and our debtor are one and the same person. If your son does not pay my costs in the case, you must pay them yourself. But this is nothing. In a few hours David will be put in prison. Will you allow him to go? What does he owe? Something like five or six thousand francs, besides the amounts owing to you and to his wife. The speech roused all the old man's suspicions at once. He looked round the little blue and white bedroom at the touching scene before his eyes, at a beautiful woman weeping over a cradle, at David bowed down by anxieties, and then again at the lawyer. This was a trap set for him by that lawyer. Perhaps they wanted to work upon his paternal feelings, to get money out of him? That was what it all meant. He took alarm. He went over to the cradle and fondled the child, who held out both little arms to him. No heir to an English peerage could be more tenderly cared for than this little one in that house of trouble. His little embroidered cap was lined with pale pink. Ah, let David get out of it as best he may. I am thinking of this child here, cried the old grandfather, and the child's mother will approve of that. David, that knows so much, must know how to pay his debts. Now I will just put your meaning into plain language, said Petit Clos ironically. Look here, Papa Seychard, you are jealous of your son, hear the truth. You put David into his present position by selling the business to him for three times its value. You ruined him to make an extortionate bargain. Yes, don't shake your head. You sold the newspaper to the Comtes and pocketed all the proceeds, and that was as much as the whole business was worth. You bear David a grudge, not merely because you have plundered him, but because also your own son is a man far above yourself. You profess to be prodigiously fond of your grandson, to cloak your want of feeling for your son and his wife, because you ought to pay down money, hick et nunc, for them, while you need only show a posthumous affection for your grandson. You pretend to be fond of the little fellow, lest you should be taxed with want of feeling for your own flesh and blood. That is the bottom of it, Papa Seychard. Did you fetch me over to hear this? asked the old man, glowering at his lawyer, his daughter-in-law and his son, in turn. Monsieur, protested poor Eve, turning to Petitclos, have you vowed to ruin us? My husband had never uttered a word against his father. Here the old man looked cunningly at her. David has told me scores of times that you loved him in your way, she added, looking at her father-in-law and understanding his suspicions. Petitclos was only following out the tall Comtes' instructions. He was widening the breach between the father and son, lest Seychard senior should extricate David from his intolerable position. The day that David Seychard goes to prison shall be the day of your introduction to Madame de Sénanche, the tall Comtes had said, no longer ago than yesterday. Madame Seychard, with the quick insight of love, had divined Petitclos' mercenary hostility. Even as she had once before felt instinctively that Cérisée was a traitor. As for David, his astonishment may be imagined. He could not understand how Petitclos came to know so much of his father's nature and his own history. Upright and honorable as he was, he did not dream of the relations between his lawyer and the Comtes, nor for that matter did he know that the Comtes were at work behind Métivier. Meanwhile, old Seychard took his son's silence as an insult, and Petitclos, taking advantage of his client's bewilderment, beat a retreat. Good-bye, my dear David. You have had warning. Notice of appeal doesn't invalidate the warrant for arrest. It is the only course left open to your creditors, and it will not be long before they take it. So go away at once. Or rather, if you will take my advice, go to the Comtes and see them about it. They have capital. If your invention is perfected and answers the purpose, go into partnership with them. After all, they are very good fellows." Your invention!" broke in old Seychard. Why, do you suppose that your son is fool enough to let his business slip away from him without thinking of something else?" exclaimed the attorney. He is on the brink of the discovery of a way of making paper at a cost of three francs per ream, instead of ten, he tells me. One more dodge for taking me in. You are all as thick as thieves in a fair. If David has found out such a plan, he has no need of me. He is a millionaire. Good-bye, my dears, and a good day to you all." And the old man disappeared down the staircase. Find some way of hiding yourself, was Petitclos' parting word to David, and with that he hurried out to exasperate old Seychard still further. He found the vine-grower growling to himself outside in the Place de Meurier, went with him as far as Limaux, and there left him with a threat of putting in an execution for the costs due to him, unless they were paid before the week was out. I will pay you if you will show me how to disinherit my son without injuring my daughter-in-law or the boy," said old Seychard, and they parted forthwith. How well the tall quantet knows the folk he is dealing with! It is just as he said. Those seven hundred francs will prevent the father from paying seven thousand, the little lawyer thought within himself as he climbed the path to Angoulême. Still, that old sly boots of a paper-maker must not overreach us. It is time to ask him for something besides promises.