Page 12 of Popular Tales

  POOR JOSE.

  On the 15th of May, 1801, an honest, but wretched woman breathed herlast, in a garret of one of the highest houses in the Rue Saint-Honore.She was still young; but misery more than sickness had rendered hercondition hopeless. Stretched, since the morning, without food, upon abed of straw, her strength was nearly exhausted; and she already wasspeechless, when the cries of her only child, a boy of about six yearsof age, attracted the neighbours, as well as the portress of the house.Their assistance, however, was of no avail. The poor creature expiredwithout having the power to utter a single word, and her eyes closed indeath while still fixed upon her child, whose tears had already ceasedto flow on beholding himself thus surrounded. The portress took him inher arms, and kissed him. "Poor little Jose!" she said. "Poor Jose!"repeated the neighbours, and taking the child, they left the garret,to go and consult with Dame Robert, a shoemaker, and owner of a shopsix feet square, attached to the same house. She was the friend andadviser of all who lived near her: the most trifling circumstances werereferred to her superior judgment, and, in the present embarrassment,it was to her that the neighbours turned to decide on the fate ofthe unfortunate orphan. Before revealing the result of this noisyconference, we will relate in a few words the melancholy, but toocommon history, of the parents of poor Jose.

  His father, a native of Annecy, in Savoy, was named Joseph Berr,or Jose, according to the _patois_ of the province. The name, thuscorrupted, is so common in that part of the country, that, if ignorantof a man's name, one may call him Jose, without being often wrong; and,under all circumstances, the appellation is received with pleasure.Jose Berr, then, possessed the usual qualities of his countrymen; hewas honest, intelligent, and energetic. He had lately married, and notfinding sufficient work to maintain his little family in comfort, he,like many other ignorant people, committed the folly of going to settlein Paris, after having expended in a long and wearisome journey, onehalf of his little store. The simple-hearted Berr firmly believed thathe should make his fortune; but he soon found that, if a large citydoes offer great resources, there are also obstacles to be met with onall sides. He wished to station himself at the corner of a street, todo porter's work, but he found the ground already occupied by rivals,who determined to beat him off the field. They would have nothing tosay to the new comer, and it was not until he had expended what wasto him a considerable sum, in treating the whole party at a tavern,that he obtained the honour of being admitted into their fraternity.But as, at the corner of almost every street, companies of portersare to be met with, similar to the one into which Berr was received,the profits, consequently, were very trifling, while living in Parisis very dear. His wife, on her side, endeavoured to work, but havingneither acquaintances nor patrons, and obliged, moreover, to take careof little Jose, who was just born, she earned still less than herhusband. For some years, this unfortunate family thus struggled againstpoverty, Berr often repenting that he had left his native town, where,if he did not earn much, he was at least sure of being employed andassisted. Finally, at the close of a severe winter, during which he hadmade redoubled efforts to obtain a subsistence for his wife and child,Berr was seized with inflammation of the chest, and died in four days'time for want of proper care. From that moment, his wife languished,and unable to endure this loss, and the privations of all kinds whichwere hourly increasing, she terminated her miserable existence, as wehave already seen.

  In the meantime, the council of neighbours, assembled at Dame Robert's,deliberated, without coming to any conclusion, upon the fate of littleJose, who, without troubling himself as to the future, was quietlysleeping in the shoemaker's shop. The charity and the means of mostof these women were about sufficient to make them willing to keep thechild for a week, but not longer. One had a large family, another wasin service. A moment's silence ensued; then a voice uttered the word"Workhouse." "The workhouse!" exclaimed Dame Robert, with indignation."Send this poor little innocent, the only child of these worthy peopleto the workhouse! No, you shall not go to the workhouse, my littlecherub," she continued, taking up the sleeping Jose; "I have fivechildren of my own, but you shall share their bread, even if I have towork an hour more morning and evening, I will take care of you untilyou can provide for yourself; and God will help me."

  The idea of the workhouse, so distressing to the poor, had greatlyexcited Dame Robert, but the kindness of her heart soon confirmed hergenerous promise. Left alone with the child, after being overwhelmedwith praise by her neighbours, who envied her the good action, whichthey had not themselves courage to perform, she laid the little orphanin the same bed with her own boys, and retired to rest with thesatisfaction of having done her duty.

  The good done by the poor is more meritorious, and requires moreself-denial, than that done by others; for their charity is always atthe expense of necessaries, while that of the rich takes from nothingbut their superfluity. Dame Robert had recently become a widow. Hersmall business was tolerably flourishing; but to suffice for themaintenance of a sixth child, she made it a rule to work, as she hadsaid, an hour longer morning and evening. This was a great deal forher, who, with the care of her six children, her work and her business,could only obtain these two additional hours by taking them from hertime of rest.

  The produce of this surplus labour was amply sufficient for themaintenance of a child so young as Jose; besides, Dame Robert was nota woman to spoil him any more than the rest, for all her kindness ofheart did not prevent her from displaying the roughness of mannerso common to her class; his share of potatoes was the same as thoseof the two younger children; he occupied the small space left inthe poor bed provided for them; and when the six little rogues madetoo much noise, broke anything, or drank the milk of Dame Robert'sfavourite cat, the reproofs and thumps which followed these misdeedswere equally distributed between Jose and his adopted brothers. Asto the rest, Providence seemed willing to reward the good shoemakerfor her humanity. The labour of the two additional hours was scarcelysufficient to satisfy her numerous customers; and, as she herselfobserved to her neighbours, who were astonished at her constantcheerfulness, "I laugh to see the people passing and repassing in sucha hurry, little thinking that by wearing out their shoes they arehelping to make my pot boil."

  Jose was beloved by all his little comrades on account of his gentleand obliging disposition; but he was more especially the friend ofPhilip, the youngest of Dame Robert's children. Somewhat older thanJose, Philip protected him in their quarrels, gave him the best ofeverything, and became seriously angry whenever any one called him thelittle Savoyard, this appellation appearing to him insulting, withouthis very well knowing why. However, as the children grew older, Philiphad no longer any need of exerting his influence for the protectionof Jose. The intelligence of the latter had developed so much, andrendered him so far superior to his young friends, that he assumedover them that kind of ascendancy which the grossest minds cannotrefuse to superior intellect, when it does not interfere with their ownself-respect.

  Jose had just attained his eighth year; he was small for his age, butstrong and active. Dame Robert had neither the means nor the capacityto bestow upon him any education beyond some notions of religion,rather limited, it is true, but still sufficient for his age. The wholemoral code of this worthy woman was contained in these four sentences,which she was incessantly repeating to her children, and which theyalways beheld her put in practice:--

  "Be thankful to God for the bread he gives you.

  "Never tell a lie, even to gain your bread.

  "Earn your bread honestly, otherwise it will profit you nothing.

  "When you are grown up, return to your father and mother the bread theyhave given to you."

  It may be seen, that if Dame Robert was not possessed of mucheloquence, the principles which guided her conduct were just andsolid, and that their correct application was sufficient to direct herchildren in the narrow path they were destined to tread.

  "Now, my boy!" she said, one Sunday morning, taking Jose upon herknee
s, "we have something besides sport to think about to-day; you arenow eight years old, and you may, in your turn, begin to assist me as Ihave assisted you. There are no idlers with Dame Robert. My eldest boyshave begun their apprenticeship; Philip goes of my errands; and of youI intend to make a little shoe-black, who will bring home every nightthe pence he has earned in the day. See! here is the little box I havebought for you."

  Jose was enchanted at these words. How delightful to be able, at hisage, to earn money, to be useful to his kind mother; for the tendernessof his little heart made him already feel this joy. It must also beowned, that the seductive idea of being almost his own master, and ofbeing able to go through a few streets when executing commissions,delighted him beyond measure, and made him eagerly accept Dame Robert'splan; and he immediately ran to admire his little shoe-cleaningapparatus. Nothing had been forgotten; the box, two hard brushes,two soft brushes, a little knife, some blacking, some spirit for thetops of the boots, a supply of rags, and a vessel to contain water;these articles comprised the whole of Jose's new possessions. Theywere looked at, touched, and turned about, not only by himself, but bythe other children also; while Jose, impatient to make use of them atonce, wanted to clean all the dirty shoes in the house, and Dame Robertdecided, if he succeeded in this his first attempt, that he shouldthe next day be established sole master of his brushes, on the grandPlace du Musee. Jose, full of zeal, immediately set to work, aidedby the advice of his brothers and sisters. The first pair turned outbadly: Jose cut the strings; at the second attempt he gave his hand agreat scratch, but this only proved that his knife was good, so he didnot cry. Finally, he succeeded very well with the third pair, betterwith the next, and still better with the succeeding one; so that,when he came to Philip's shoes, which he intentionally reserved tillthe last, the young novice executed what the apprentices term their_masterpiece_, and it was therefore decided that he might exercise histalents in public.

  It was with difficulty that Jose closed his eyes that night, and whenhe did sleep he beheld in his dreams more than one passer-by stopbefore him to require the exercise of his skill. As I have alreadysaid, Dame Robert lived in the Rue Saint-Honore, near the corner ofthe Rue Froidmanteau; and, although but a short time has elapsed sincethe period at which little Jose commenced his labours, this part ofParis then bore no resemblance to what it is at the present day. Thewide and handsome street leading from the Carrousel to the Place duMusee did not then exist, and the Place du Musee itself terminatedin a rapid descent at the end of the Rue Froidmanteau, while thisnarrow, low, and always dirty street was almost the only thoroughfareleading to the Louvre in this direction. Nevertheless it was the oneusually taken by the artists who were attracted either by business orpleasure to the Palace of the Louvre, in which at that time, as now,the exhibition of pictures was held, and in which, moreover, weresituated the free academy for drawing, the rooms for the exhibition ofprize pictures, both of which have been removed elsewhere, as well asthe studios of a great number of painters then situated in the immensewing which extends from the Pont-des-Arts to the Pont-Royal. DameRobert, in her tender solicitude for Jose, and wishing also to justifyher reputation for prudence, had carefully examined all the localitiesI have mentioned; the inevitable mud which every foot-passenger mustnecessarily collect in crossing the Rue Froidmanteau, first suggestedto her the idea of the useful establishment, of which Jose was to bethe founder, and having with joy discovered that no rival in thisdepartment had yet thought of taking advantage of so favourable a site,she hastened, as we have already seen, to inform her adopted son of hisnew destination.

  On the Monday morning, therefore, Jose commenced his new career. Thewhole of the little family was awake at an early hour, anxious toaccompany and install Jose in the situation indicated by Dame Robert,who herself carried the neat little box, while each of the childrentook possession of one of the utensils. Jose alone, as the hero ofthe day, carried nothing; he marched proudly at the head of the merrytroop, and never did conqueror take possession of a kingdom withgreater satisfaction than was experienced by the little Savoyard, whenhe established his apparatus in a hollow, some feet in depth, faced bytwo enormous posts, between which Jose appeared as in a fortress. DameRobert, after having strongly cautioned him not to leave his post, andnot to eat up at once his provisions for the day, which she had givento him in a little basket, at length made up her mind to leave him,and went away, accompanied by the other children, though not withoutoften looking back. Having reached the end of the Place du Musee, sheonce more turned round, and saw, with infinite satisfaction, that Josewas already engaged in cleaning some boots, which a lazy servant hadbrought to him, in order to save himself the trouble of doing them.With a contented heart, the good woman then redoubled her speed, andreturned home to resume her ordinary occupations; but the image of Josefrequently presented itself to her imagination, and interrupted herlabours. The day seemed to her very long, and she had to exercise herself-denial, in order to resist the temptation she felt to go and takea distant peep at him, to ascertain how he was getting on; but not togive her more credit than she deserved, it must be told that she turnedaway her eyes when, at lunch-time, Philip, stealing by the side of thehouses, bent his steps towards the Place du Musee. When he returnedempty-handed, and with a smiling countenance, the kind soul becamequite easy, and resumed her needle with more activity than ever.

  At the close of this day, so memorable to the little family, the momentJose was perceived in the distance, dragging along his new possessions,all the children ran to his assistance; Jose, throwing himself intothe arms of Dame Robert, commenced a confused recital of his wonderfuladventures; then, suddenly interrupting himself, he drew from hispocket and presented to her, with inexpressible pride, twelve sous,carefully tied up in a bit of rag. This was the result of his day'slabour, and Jose, encouraged by this first attempt, and having almostcompletely overcome the timidity natural to his age, like all childrenwho are compelled by necessity to work while very young, he devotedhimself with so much assiduity and intelligence to his new calling,that he soon became the most skilful, as well as the smartest littleshoeblack in the whole neighbourhood. As he grew older, his earningsincreased; he sometimes went of errands, called hackney coaches, &c.,&c., while his gentle disposition and pleasing manners gained for himthe esteem of all who lived in the neighbourhood of his ambulatoryestablishment. Besides, Jose was industrious and docile, and not givento mischief, neither was he greedy, as is sometimes the case withchildren even better brought up than he could have been, and his goodconduct was all the more remarkable from his being entirely his ownmaster during the whole of the day, while fate, as if for the verypurpose of trying him, had placed objects of temptation in almost everystreet through which he had to pass on his way backward and forward.One of these objects was an attractive gingerbread shop, another, atroop of little urchins, who endeavoured to entice every child thatpassed by to join in their follies. It really required strength ofmind, and even what at Jose's age may be termed virtue, to withstandthese terrible rocks, but he was always triumphant, and if he didsometimes cast a longing look towards the somersets and tricks of theselittle vagabonds, or upon the delicious piles of Madame Legris' crispgingerbread, his daily treasure was always faithfully carried home toDame Robert, and never had the mud-soiled pedestrian to complain ofhaving to wait a single minute for the services of the useful shoeblack.

  As our reputation commences with ourselves, and is almost alwaysdependent on our own will, Jose, who was truly anxious to do whatwas right, had already obtained for himself a very flattering one,considering his age; and we will now relate the good fortune which thisreputation was the means of procuring for him at the expiration of ayear.

  In addition to Madame Legris', and many other enticing shops, therewas, at that time, upon the Place du Musee, one which kept anexcellent assortment of colours, canvasses, and everything connectedwith painting, and which the artists and students of that period mayremember to have been well acquainted with. M. Barbe,
the owner of thisestablishment, was a kind-hearted and excellent man, very intelligent,and very active in his business. His shop was always filled withartists and young men engaged in painting, the proximity of a greatnumber of studios rendering it convenient for the purchases perpetuallyrequired in this pursuit. Moreover, the length of time it had beenestablished, the confidence inspired by the worthy owner, and theadvantages it offered to the poorer class of students, had renderedit a kind of rendezvous for that little world of its own which weterm artists. Barbe kept in his lumber-rooms those inferior pictureswhich could not obtain a purchaser, and with which, otherwise, theunfortunate authors would not have known what to do; he supplied onewith colours, for a certain time, gratis; lent a palette or an easelto another; had a kind word for all, and took as much interest inthem as if they had been his own children. Madame Barbe seconded himwonderfully, and shared his tastes and occupations with a degree ofskill and intelligence worthy of all praise; but, as there is nothingperfect in this world, Madame Barbe will not be offended if I revealtwo little defects, of which, besides, I have since learned, that shehas corrected herself. She was a little too fond, to use a commonexpression, of _storming_ at those about her; and she possessed suchan amazing volubility of tongue, that it was difficult to keep pacewith her, so that she almost always remained master of the field.Still young and very agreeable, she exercised great influence overher excellent husband, while she possessed sufficient attraction forher numerous customers, who were amused with her eloquence withoutsuffering from her irritability. Her usual victims were her husband,her little girl of four years old, and a man of about forty, namedGabri, M. Barbe's head assistant and confidential clerk. Naturallytaciturn, Gabri had become still more so since the marriage of hispatron with this eloquent dame. He had remarked, with his usualdiscrimination, that when these fits of passion commenced, the verymildest answer was only pouring oil upon the fire; he maintained,therefore, in such cases, the most perfect silence; and Madame Barbe,satisfied with this evidence of the force of her arguments, wentelsewhere to exercise her power. Gabri was nevertheless esteemed byher, as by every one else; and it is even asserted, that in one ofher better moments she acknowledged, that a great portion of theprosperity of their business was due to his intelligence and integrity.He therefore, with a few exceptions, fared pretty well in the house;not to mention, that Barbe himself treated him altogether as a friend.Still, poor Gabri could not overcome the melancholy induced byirreparable misfortunes. In the course of six weeks he had lost histhree children and their mother, by the small-pox; and, even after thelapse of many years, this man, apparently so cold, shed tears wheneverhe spoke of his poor children. "They were three fine boys," he wouldsay, but could not finish. With a heart so sensitive, it was impossiblefor him to behold without interest our amiable little Jose. Hecarefully watched his disposition and conduct for a long time, becamemore and more attached to him, and the fortunate child thus acquired byhis own merits alone a prudent and sincere friend.

  But it was not enough for Gabri that he should love Jose with his wholeheart; he wished also to take measures for his future welfare; andafter repeatedly talking over the matter with Madame Legris, who alsotook a great interest in his young _protege_, they commenced theirinnocent plot in the following manner.

  Madame Barbe entertained some partiality for Madame Legris, who,wishing to maintain a good understanding with her neighbours, listenedmore patiently than others to the long speeches of this chatterbox.Besides, she often gave cakes to the little girl, a generosity whichMadame Barbe could not find it in her heart to blame, notwithstandingher desire to discover faults. The friendly vender of gingerbread went,therefore, one morning, to call upon her at the hour she was sure to bein the best humour, her shop being then filled with purchasers. "Well,neighbour," she said, on entering, "how goes on business this week?"

  "Pretty well, pretty well," replied Madame Barbe, (all the whiledexterously filling and capping some bladders of colour, an occupationwhich she always reserved till the middle of the morning, in order todisplay the grace of her pretty fingers,) "but sit down, neighbour; Iam really very glad to see you.... Ah! good morning, sir; you shall beattended to in a moment.... Pussy, my darling, here is Madame Legris,who has brought you some cracknels.... Be so kind as to take a seat,ladies.... Barbe, bring some canvasses.... Yes, ladies, they areexcellent and very fine, and have been made these twelve months andmore.... Your servant, sir; I know what you want.... Gabri, bring somepencils to this gentleman.... Naples yellow and white? In a moment,my little friend.... Gracious! what a crowd! what confusion! and onlymyself to attend to it all! for as to my husband and Gabri ..." AndMadame Barbe shrugged her shoulders in a most significant manner.

  "Really, friend," resumed Madame Legris, "you seem to me ..."

  "What, sir!" exclaimed Madame Barbe, in a higher tone, "those brushesgood for nothing!... Brushes carefully sorted, and made with brasswire.... Just look at them a second time, sir. Here's a glass of water.Good heavens! those brushes ill made!"

  "Pooh!" exclaimed the discontented purchaser, "I don't want any water;"and putting the brush into his mouth, "I see," he repeated, "that theydivide;" and he threw them on the counter with contempt.

  "You have them, however, from the best makers, my dear friend," saidMadame Legris, wishing to maintain the choleric shopkeeper in goodhumour in order to attain her object; "and doubtless ..."

  "Doubtless!" resumed Madame Barbe, becoming scarlet, and biting herlips; "the gentleman, doubtless, knows nothing about the manufactory ofDagneau; so it's no use talking. Get out of my way, you little stupid,"she said, addressing her daughter, at the same time giving her a slap."Yes, five sous for every dip-cup[2] you bring me to clean, younggentleman, and quite enough, I think; other people only give four.Mercy! Gabri: you bring so many things at a time, that you will letthem all fall." And whether Madame Barbe's quick eye really saw whatwas going to happen, or whether the sharp tones of her voice startledpoor Gabri, certain it is that he let fall the whole of his load in themiddle of the shop. His mistress, greatly irritated, rushed forward,and she might, perhaps, have even ventured to have added acts to wordshad not the entrance of a new comer suddenly changed the expression ofher features.

  This was a distinguished artist, one of M. Barbe's best customers, whoalso affected to be an admirer of his wife, at whose expense he amusedhimself, by deluding her with the hope that he would one day paint herportrait.

  "What's the matter now? Here is truly a fine subject for a picture;"he exclaimed, as he beheld the crayons and other articles floatingin a sea of oil, while Gabri, with folded arms, stood petrified, andMadame Legris was engaged in restraining the infuriated mistress of theestablishment. "It might be called the Broken Cruse. But do not spoilyour pretty face, my charming model. My picture will be completed in aweek, and then we will commence the sketch of our portrait; but reallyyour complexion is so delicate, so transparent, that we shall have touse all the resources of our art, and I have a great fancy to try iton wood. Have you any panels at hand, as, if so, we will choose one atonce."

  Whilst Madame Barbe, now calmed and delighted, resumed her seat withan affected air; the painter, half reclining upon the counter, amusedhimself with sketching a small figure with a piece of white chalk,while he related all the important news of the artistic world. "I toldyou, Madame Barbe, that the number of fools was increasing; pictures often feet are nothing to these gentlemen now. There is G----, whom youknow very well; he has just hired the tennis-court at Versailles, inorder to commence his picture, as no studio would be large enough forit; and this they call painting."

  "Ah! Ah!" said Madame Barbe, smiling, "we shall see that at theExhibition. But what has become of that young man, a pupil of MonsieurV----'s, so talented, and so admired? I never see him here now."

  "Lost! utterly lost!" replied the artist, with a malicious smile. "Hegave the greatest hopes, but his master's false system has ruined him.That man will never turn out a first-rate pupil; I have said so for along time
past.... But, Madame Barbe, they are not bringing me anythingI want. How is it that you have not more attendance for your numerouscustomers? It is very strange, upon my word."

  "Indeed, neighbour!" said Madame Legris, who had been watching foran opportunity of getting in a word, "Your business is getting soextensive that it will be impossible for you to attend to it allyourself, notwithstanding your activity. Were I in your place, I shouldtake an assistant--a child, for instance, that would not be muchexpense."

  "You are right, neighbour," said Barbe, who at that moment joined them."Gabri is overwhelmed with messages and work, and an errand boy wouldbe very useful."

  Madame Barbe looked at her husband, and then at Gabri: but the lattercontinued quietly to grind his colours, and Barbe saying no more, thedesire of contradicting them passed away almost immediately; and thiscapricious woman, turning graciously towards the artist, begged him togive his opinion upon a subject of so much importance.

  "Certainly!" he replied. "It is a good thing; you are quite right;" andhe had already forgotten the matter in question.

  "Since it is decided," resumed Madame Barbe, who now calculated thatshe should have an additional person to exercise her authority over,"tell me, neighbour, whether you happen to know a lad likely to suitus. You know as well as we do what we require."

  "As to that," replied Madame Legris, concealing the pleasure she feltat this question, "it is a difficult matter. I am not sure that I knowany one at this moment who would suit you in every respect.... Yes!stop; I know a poor boy.... But no, it is impossible; his mother wouldnot consent...."

  "His mother would not consent!" exclaimed Madame Barbe, offended atthe supposition. "What! not consent to his entering a house like ours,to be my husband's _pupil_, to live as we do! And for all this, whatdo we ask in return? Almost nothing, in truth! only to be intelligent,faithful, obedient, active, industrious, and not greedy, nor awkward;"and as she named the last of the required qualifications, she glancedtowards Gabri, who bent his head in silence. "In fine, Madame Legris,represent these advantages to the child's parents, and I cannot thinkthat they will hesitate for a moment."

  "They will not be so foolish," replied Madame Legris, "besides, thisboy has only adoptive parents. It is poor little Jose, the prettylittle Savoyard, who is established down yonder, between those twogreat stones. His is a singular history, and when you know it...."

  "You shall relate it to me at our first sitting," interrupted thepainter, taking up his hat; and the hope of being able to relate aninteresting story, increased the desire which Madame Barbe then feltof possessing Jose. The kind-hearted Madame Legris therefore went awayperfectly satisfied with the success of her project, and if Gabri'sconversation was still as laconic as usual, a close observer might haveseen him several times during the day rub his hands and smile, a thingquite extraordinary for him.

  The day after this conversation, Dame Robert, dressed in her Sundayclothes, and holding our little hero by the hand, called upon MadameBarbe. The story was long, and the dialogue which followed it stilllonger: and it may be presumed that Madame Barbe's eloquence was moreflowing and animated than usual; but, as her auditors did not takethe trouble to report it, we can only inform our reader that it wasagreed--firstly, that Jose should serve Madame Barbe during the spaceof seven years, without receiving any remuneration whatever; and that,after that time, if his conduct was good, he should be paid a small summonthly. Secondly, that the said Jose should, during his seven years'apprenticeship, be lodged and boarded by his new masters, and that DameRobert should take charge of his clothing.

  Every thing being arranged to the satisfaction of both parties, Josewas immediately set to work, and from the first moment displayed adegree of intelligence which greatly delighted the kind-hearted Barbeand much astonished his difficult partner. He had a wonderful facultyfor remembering where the different articles were kept, and, if hehappened to hesitate for a moment, Gabri, from the extremity of theback shop, where he was grinding his colours, would quickly make him asign, which the intelligent child immediately understood. Poor Gabridared not display all his joy, for his tormenting mistress would havepunished him by scolding the innocent Jose; but, taking advantage of amoment when the latter came to fetch something from where he was, hewould cast a rapid glance towards the counter, and, clasping the childin his arms, press him with transport to his heart. Madame Barbe wouldturn her head, but Gabri's grindstone was already in motion, whilelittle Jose was at the top of the ladder.

  In the evening, the mistress ordered Gabri to conduct the _apprentice_to his room. Oh! how delightfully did these words fall upon Jose'sears! he who had hitherto possessed only one-third of the dark loftin which the brothers slept! He was going to sleep alone, and in hisown room! After having gaily mounted seven stories, Gabri opened alittle door, and entered a very small room which led to the roof ofthe house, and adjoined M. Barbe's lumber-room. "A window! a window!"exclaimed Jose, on entering; "Monsieur Gabri, I have a window!" and heclapped his hands, and jumped for joy. Gabri showed him his bed, whichwas of fresh straw, covered with a sheet; the little fellow was in sucha state of joyous excitement that it was with difficulty his protectorcould induce him to lie down.

  Jose was roused from his pleasant slumbers by the first rays of themorning sun, when he was gladdened by another agreeable surprise, ondiscovering that the walls of his garret were smooth and perfectlywhite, for it had just undergone repair, and was then in a state ofcleanliness rarely met with in such places; but Jose, little sensibleto this advantage, was very much so to the cheerful appearance of hisroom, and especially to the facilities which those white walls affordedhim for continuing his first attempts in art. For it must be known thatJose, in the leisure moments left by his former occupation, used oftento exercise his talents by daubing with his blacking and clumsy brushesupon stones or bits of wood a thousand figures of his own invention.What pleasure, then, for him to be able to adorn his room with drawingsof soldiers and horses! and he was already on the point of commencingoperations when he heard the voice of Madame Barbe, and hastened toobey the summons.

  For a whole week the house resounded with nothing but the name of Jose.The poor boy, constantly watched and tormented, was subjected to avery severe test; but the natural goodness of his disposition and hisindefatigable zeal, softened by degrees the severity of his mistress.Besides, his kind friend Gabri, by his judicious advice, saved him frommany an act of thoughtlessness, and Madame Barbe scolded so often thather husband never scolded at all. Jose was, therefore, good, beloved,and happy. His taste for painting was increased by the conversationswhich he daily heard in this house; still, perhaps, this taste mightnever have been developed, had it not been for a singular occurrence,and his genius, like the fire shut up in a rude stone, might never haveemitted a spark, had not some one struck upon it.

  Amongst the numerous houses to which Jose was sent with the ordersexecuted by M. Barbe, there was one at which he was received withespecial kindness, and which, notwithstanding all his prudence, hefound great difficulty in leaving when his errand was performed. Thiswas the house of one M. Enguehard, a respectable man, in only moderatecircumstances, who, being passionately fond of art, had exercised histalents in engraving until compelled to discontinue, by weakness ofsight. Married, late in life, to an amiable woman; who made him happy,their constant occupation was the education of their only son, a ladabout two years older than Jose. Francisco, as he was named, had fromhis birth been destined to be a painter, and being brought up with thisidea, he manifested both facility and power; but naturally of a lively,volatile temperament, and still too fond of amusement, he worked butlittle, and his progress was consequently not rapid. Like many otherchildren he did not reflect on the sacrifices which his father'sslender means obliged him to make for his education, and he lost ordestroyed, without scruple, books, maps, mathematical instruments,and other expensive articles, which his parents could only replace bydepriving themselves of some personal comfort.

  Francisco was never
theless of a good disposition, and when he chose tomake an effort, his progress was so astonishing, that his kind parentsforgot his past faults. M. Enguehard was at first inclined to restrainthe liking which his son manifested for Jose, fearing lest this child,whom he naturally supposed had not been very carefully brought up,might lead his son to contract some bad habits; but feeling himselfan interest, which it was indeed difficult not to feel, on seeing theboy's frank and amiable countenance, he made inquiries about him, andwhat he learned was so satisfactory that it removed all apprehensionwith regard to his intimacy with Francisco. The two boys grew dailymore and more attached to each other, and Jose divided all his leisuremoments between Dame Robert and his beloved Francisco. Philip, however,was not forgotten; but Jose, always beyond his years in mental powers,preferred the advantage of being enlightened by the conversation of M.Enguehard and Francisco, to the pleasure of being admired by Philip.His ideas became enlarged and elevated; and, grieved at his ownignorance, he envied Francisco the happiness of an education from whichhe profited so little.

  One day when the latter had thrown aside, in a passion, a book whichwearied him, Jose picked it up, and, turning it round, looked at itwith a sigh.

  "You are very fortunate," said Francisco, "in not knowing how to reador write, for you are not forced to learn lessons."

  "Ah!" replied Jose, "that is my greatest grief: it is you who arefortunate in having the opportunity of learning. Oh, if you would butteach me to draw!"

  "Yes, yes!" cried Francisco, enchanted at the idea: "I will be yourmaster; but take care if you do not do well--upon the knuckles, my lad!"

  Jose smiled at this threat, and M. Enguehard, who entered at themoment, having approved the project, it was decided that Franciscoshould give Jose a lesson every Sunday, and of an evening during theweek whenever Jose could obtain permission to go out; but Franciscothought no more about rapping knuckles. Jose comprehended so readilyand advanced so rapidly, that, in order to maintain the proper distancebetween master and pupil, his friend was obliged to set seriouslyto work, and this little experiment led him to make a few salutaryreflections. M. Enguehard, struck by Jose's astonishing aptitude,neglected no opportunity of maintaining an emulation so advantageousto both the boys. He often talked to them about the celebrated mastersof the old school, and related to them portions of their history."Almost all of them," he said, "displayed their genius from childhood.Lanfranc, one of the most distinguished pupils of the Caracci, beingin the service of Count Scotti, covered all the walls with charcoaldrawings, his paper being insufficient to contain the fertility of hisimagination. Philippe de Champagne, a native of Brussels, but classedamongst the painters of the French school, and who died President ofthe Academy, used, when about eight or nine years of age, to copy everypicture and engraving that came in his way; and Claude Gelee, calledLorraine, a real phenomenon, such as the history of the arts can offerbut few examples of, could learn nothing while at school; his parentstherefore apprenticed him to a confectioner, with whom he succeededstill worse. Not knowing what to do, he went to Rome, and, unable tofind employment, he entered by chance the service of Augustin Tasso togrind his colours and clean his palette. This master, in the hope ofobtaining some advantage from his talents, taught him some of the rulesof perspective; and Lorraine, devoting himself entirely to painting,passed whole days in the fields sketching and painting, and became thecelebrated and almost unique landscape painter, whose works we stilldaily admire in our Museum."

  Jose had listened to this recital with an attention which scarcelypermitted him to breathe. When M. Enguehard had finished speaking,a silence of a few moments ensued, which Jose at length interruptedby rising suddenly and crying out with all his might, "Why not? whynot?"... He then blushed when he beheld Francisco and M. Enguehardlaughing heartily. M. Enguehard sent them to play, and, reflectingupon the words which had escaped from Jose, he felt tempted to directhim into a career to which everything seemed to call him; but thekind-hearted engraver was poor; to charge himself with Jose wasimpossible; and then, was he not wrong in diverting the child's mindfrom the ideas that were suitable to his present position? Again hehesitated. "Good God! what a pity!" he repeated; "but if I shouldrender him unhappy without being able to assist him!" And from thatday M. Enguehard related no more stories, nor gave himself any furtheranxiety about the lessons which Francisco continued to give to Jose.But all precautions were now useless; Jose was born a painter; ClaudeLorraine incessantly recurred to his mind, and for want of fields,which he was denied the privilege of beholding, he sketched horsesand figures in every corner, and sought subjects for composition inthe historical anecdotes which Francisco related to him. Francisco,however, could only teach him the elements and mechanical details ofart, things which Jose's genius rendered almost useless to him. Drawingeven was not enough; he burned with a desire to paint, and found asecret pleasure in touching palettes and colours. Examining withattention the occupations of the various painters on whom he waitedwith parcels, his imagination became excited, and when alone in hisgarret, he grieved at being only able to work with black and white. Hetook good care, however, to keep from Madame Barbe the knowledge ofhis favourite amusement. It was at the expense of his sleep that heexercised his talents; and his friend Gabri, his only confidant, didnot feel tempted to betray his secret.

  But a circumstance occurred, which all his prudence could not haveforeseen, and which, by enlightening Madame Barbe, cost poor Jose manytears.

  We have already spoken of Barbe's kindness in giving room in his house,not only to those pictures, whether good or bad, which their authorshad no convenience for keeping; but also to the colour boxes of theyoung men employed in copying in the Museum; as well as to the studieswhich the pupils were very glad to bring under the notice of the crowdof artists, who were continually congregated in the shop of the honestcolour vender. Before being admitted to compete for the great prizefor painting which annually sends to Rome, and maintains there, atthe expense of the government, the person who has the good fortuneto obtain it, the students have a first trial with a full-lengthfigure, and afterwards with painted sketches; and the six or eightmost successful competitors then take their places, and commencethe pictures for which the prize is to be awarded. It may easily beconceived how great is the importance attached to these competitions bythose young and poor students, who behold in them the termination oftheir elementary course, and the possibility of pursuing their studieson a more extended scale. One of the most promising pupils of that timehad just obtained the prize for the figure. As Barbe had assisted himin various ways, he was anxious to make him a participator in his joy,and place in his hands his triumphant work. He arrived, therefore,followed by a dozen of his companions and rivals, who, the first momentof disappointment over, usually participate cordially in the delight ofthe victor, especially when they happen to study under the same master.Jose was a witness to the transports of these young men, and heard thepraises lavished by the spectators on the fortunate student. Agitatedby a thousand varied emotions, jealous, but with that noble and rarejealousy which made Caesar weep at the feet of Alexander's statue, hewould doubtless in his excitement have drawn upon himself a severereprimand from Madame Barbe, had not Gabri whom nothing could divertfrom his silent watchfulness, led him away, in spite of himself.

  "Ah!" said Jose, with emotion, "Do you see that young man? He is onlyfifteen.... Claude Lorraine was a confectioner.... And I, what am I?...I feel that I, too, have something in me!..."

  Gabri knew nothing about Claude Lorraine, but he exerted himself withso much kindness to pacify Jose, that he at length succeeded, by meansof a positive promise, to satisfy, at least, the most attainable of hiswishes. The Exhibition had just opened, and Jose from his station inMadame Barbe's shop, could see successive crowds of amateurs throngingthe entrance to the Museum; and he was constantly hearing the merits ofthe different paintings discussed. How, then, could he help ardentlylonging to examine for himself those interesting works? He had onceventured timidly to ap
proach the door of the Museum, but the dark scowlof the porter, and a slight movement of his cane, warned him to make aprecipitate retreat; not that working-men of all kinds, and soldiers,cannot without difficulty gain admission into these exhibitions; but itmust be owned that poor Jose, at his age, and in his linen pantaloons,besmeared with every colour in M. Barbe's establishment, and in histattered and scanty jacket, presented an appearance by no meanscalculated to soften the rigour of so proper a gentleman. Having thenconfided his grief, both to his young and his old friend,--to Franciscoand to Gabri,--the affair was settled in the following manner.Francisco, with his father's permission, presented his little companionwith a coat, and a pair of nankeen trousers, which he had laid aside,and which could easily be made to fit Jose. Philip, who had for sometime been working at a tailor's, eagerly offered his services. DameRobert purchased a pretty piece of stuff, which her daughter cut outfor a waistcoat; and Gabri declared that he would take upon himself toprovide the hat. Jose burned with impatience to enjoy the generosity ofhis friends; but the requisite preparations necessarily took some time,for the little workers had more zeal than capacity; and, besides, theycould not neglect their ordinary tasks. It was necessary, therefore,to wait, and Jose, finding himself alone in the shop, and wishing todivert his mind, determined to take another view of the picture whichhad made so deep an impression on him, and which the young painter,according to custom, had left for some time with M. Barbe. It was hungat a considerable height; Jose mounted a ladder, to get it down; but,thinking he heard the voice of the terrible Madame Barbe, he hastilyreplaced it, and, in his precipitation, brushed against the still freshpaint with his sleeve, and rubbed out a portion of the ground andalmost the whole of one leg. Recovering from his fright, and findingno one approach, he again raised his eyes: judge of his dismay, onbeholding what had occurred! What was to be done? What would become ofhim, if the young painter happened to come for his picture? What wouldMadame Barbe say? for, if questioned on the subject, he would not uttera falsehood. Besides, all evasion would be as useless as it would bewicked, as such an act of carelessness could have been committed byno one but him. The poor child was in despair; he already saw himselfignominiously turned out of the house; but time pressed, and he mustdiscover some means of repairing the mischief. He could find but one.He ran to hide the picture in his room, and was presumptuous enough torely upon his own ability to repair the fatal blemish.

  It may be thought, that so daring an idea was but little likely toenter the mind of a child only thirteen years of age; but Jose, aswe have before observed, was born with extraordinary talents forpainting; besides, he knew nothing else; he occupied his thoughtswith nothing else;--all that he had seen and heard from his earliestchildhood had reference to painting. Neither is it without example,that remarkable talents--especially when constantly directed towardsone object--have produced, even in extreme youth, very astonishingresults. Some years ago at Florence, when there happened to be a fallof snow of a few inches thick, a very unusual occurrence in thatclimate, the children of the common people might be seen gathering ittogether into great heaps, forming it into giants in the principalsquare, and in the streets into colonnades and statues, and eveninto groups, in which artists themselves could not but acknowledge aremarkable imitation of the great works in the midst of which they wereborn; so much does the influence of what they hear and see act upon theminds and dispositions of children, and give, as a mere starting-point,to some of those who live in the atmosphere of art, that which toothers less favoured proves almost a goal. It must also be remembered,that the work on which Jose was about to try his skill was that of ayouth of fifteen, and, consequently, far from being faultless.

  He had seen enough of painting to feel at no loss in charging apalette; but he wanted colours, brushes, &c.; and Jose well knew that,though in the midst of everything of this kind, he had no right totouch any. He therefore resolved to have recourse to the friendship ofFrancisco, and to ask him for the money necessary to make his purchasesat a distant shop. It may perhaps appear singular that his friend Gabridid not come to his aid; but the absence of this guardian angel hadbeen the cause of his misfortune as there was no friendly glance orhand to warn, or raise him up. Gabri, for the first time during thewhole fifteen years that he had lived with M. Barbe, had asked leave ofabsence for a few days, in order to visit his native place; his requestwas so reasonable, that it could not be refused, but Madame Barbe'sill-temper was at its height when she beheld him depart without beingable to obtain a single word of explanation relative to the motiveswhich had induced him to undertake this unexpected journey.

  Gabri was to return on the Sunday evening, the day following thatwhich had proved so fatal to poor Jose; but to wait for his comingwas impossible, this same Sunday being the only time that the poorboy had at his own disposal. He therefore hastened to M. Enguehard's,and having fortunately found Francisco alone, he confided to him hisembarrassment. Francisco shuddered at his friend's danger, but wasalmost as much terrified at the projected reparation as at the accidentitself; nevertheless, at the urgent entreaty of Jose, who feared lesthis absence should be remarked, he gave him all the money he had,amounting to four francs ten sous. This was sufficient for Jose'spurpose; for, as may be easily imagined, there was no question ofeasel, nor colour box, and he made so much haste, that his purchaseswere completed and hidden before Madame Barbe had once asked for him.

  Jose was tormented during the whole of the day by the idea of hisdaring undertaking; and his preoccupation prevented him from being asmuch delighted as he would otherwise have been with his new clothes,which Philip, with an air of importance, brought home tied up in ahandkerchief, in tailor fashion, under his arm. The poor boy, whoexpected great praise and many thanks, was somewhat disconcerted at theindifference with which Jose examined an _invisible_ seam, which inspite of this qualification was even more easily distinguishable thanany of the others. He therefore went off, persuaded that Jose was ill,for he could never attach an unkind motive to his conduct.

  Jose, awakening with the earliest dawn, at first felt nothing butthe delight of possessing colours and brushes. He prepared his rudepalette with extreme care, and made this important operation last aslong as he could; but when all was ready, the difficulty of commencingvividly presented itself to his mind, and caused him so much anxiety,that he remained motionless, not daring to touch a brush, when all atonce a fortunate inspiration restored his courage. "I have to painthalf a leg," he said to himself. "Well, then, why not copy my own? Thegreatest masters use models, and paint everything from nature; I caneasily place one foot without inconveniencing myself. We shall see ifwith this assistance I cannot manage." And Jose commenced by cutting acaper; then looking at the figure, the legs of which, fortunately forhim, were outstretched, he placed one of his own in nearly the sameposition, and with a trembling hand gave the first touch. By degreesthat fever of enthusiasm, which always fills the mind in every kindof composition, took possession of him; he became excited; he fanciedhimself drawing like Raphael, colouring like Rubens; and his hand, sotimid at first, worked with freedom and facility; he felt no furtherembarrassment, and did not cease until he had completely repaired themischief.

  Poor Jose, p. 264.]

  His task ended, Jose went down, to watch for an opportunity ofreplacing the picture without being observed. It was already late, thewhole of the family were going out for a walk; and Madame Barbe wasin such good humour, on account of a pretty cap which her husband hadjust given her, that Jose had no difficulty in obtaining leave to goto the Exhibition, on the understanding that he was to be back beforedinner-time, to arrange certain things, which Gabri's absence had leftin disorder. Jose, with a light heart, had no sooner lost sight of themthan he hastened to hang up the picture, and smiled, as from beneathhe beheld the fine effect of his work. Having now nothing to think ofbut the delight of possessing his new clothes, and, especially, ofbeing privileged to pass the threshold of that door, so long closedagainst him, he went out, fastening with s
ome pride the metal buttonsof his coat, and entered the Exhibition, eyeing the burly porter, as hepassed, with a confident air.

  At that period, the noble staircase, with its double banister,which we admire at present, was not built; the square saloon of theExhibition was reached by a side door, leading from the Place duMusee, and a staircase, which now only serves as a private entrance.This entrance was neither so convenient nor handsome as the presentone; but still it was princely in its dimensions, and especially soto the unaccustomed eyes of poor Jose, who had never seen anythingmore splendid than the church of Saint Roch. Those wide steps of whitestone; those walls covered with pictures, for they reached almost tothe first landing-place; the tumult of the crowd which pressed forward,carrying him along with it,--all combined to throw Jose into a kindof bewilderment. He looked without seeing, walked without thinking,and, driven onwards by the crowd, at length found himself at the doorof the great gallery of the Museum, which is left open during theExhibition, but which at that time contained only the works of theold masters. At the sight of this immense gallery, magnificent evento those who are familiar with magnificence, Jose stood struck withastonishment, while an involuntary feeling of respect caused him totake off his hat. There were but few visitors in that part of theMuseum; Jose breathed more freely, and being able to examine withoutbeing jostled, began deliciously to taste the pleasure he had sooften longed for. Various pictures attracted his attention; but tooignorant to divine their subjects, there was something wanting to hisenjoyment. But when, at last, he came to that picture of Raphael's,known by the name of _La Vierge a la chaise_, the figures could easilybe recognised, and Jose found himself, so to speak, in the midst ofhis habitual acquaintances; he was able to make comparisons, havingseen other church paintings; and his natural taste was so pure, andhe had so remarkable an instinct for appreciating the master-piecesof art, that at the sight of this admirable production, an emotionhitherto unknown took possession of him. The more he looked, the morecomplete did the illusion become; the face of the divine infant seemedto become animated, and to smile upon him. Jose, leaning against thebalustrade, extended his arms and smiled too, and in the delight ofthese new sensations, forgot everything else, when a noise close byhim made him start and awake from his reverie. He turned his head,and beheld a man attentively examining him; he was still young, andpossessed a countenance remarkable for its expression; his eyes, fullof fire, were fixed with kindness upon Jose, who, notwithstanding hisordinary timidity, replied without embarrassment to the questionsaddressed to him. The stranger wished to know his name, what he thoughtof Raphael's picture, what were his views, his occupations, &c. Jose'sartless statements, through which his precocious genius could readilybe discerned, deeply interested the stranger. "You were born a painter,child," he said, touching Jose's forehead. "You already know what nomaster could teach you, but you must be directed, and this I willundertake to do. Here is my address, my name is G----; call upon me, Iwill make something of you."

  Jose, overwhelmed with joy in recognising the name of one of our mostcelebrated artists, clasped his hands without being able to utter aword. Monsieur G. gave him another kind look, and departed. It was sometime before Jose recovered from the agitation into which this event hadthrown him, and the day was already far advanced when he rememberedthat he was still in the service of Madame Barbe, and that his accidentcaused him to run great risk of not remaining in it. Full of anxiety,he precipitately retraced his steps, and soon reached home. Alas!every one had returned, and the manner in which he was received, was apresage of the storm about to burst over his devoted head.

  Barbe, who was hurriedly pacing the shop, advanced towards him, as ifto question him, then turned away his head with an expression of vividsorrow. Jose, confounded, was beginning to murmur some excuses, whenMadame Barbe, the violence of whose passion had hitherto prevented herfrom speaking, at length recovered the power of pouring forth the abusedestined for the hapless culprit.

  "Here you are, at last, Sir!" she said. "You are certainly verypunctual; however, I can easily imagine, you young rascal, that youwere in no hurry to make your appearance."

  "I am very sorry, Madame....." replied Jose.

  But Madame Barbe would not give him time to finish.

  "Do not interrupt, you shameless liar," she cried; "you little viper,whom we have nourished, and who now stings his benefactors. But I couldpardon you for being idle and ungrateful, if you had not sacrificedthe reputation of my house, by destroying the pictures confided to us.Yes," she continued with more vehemence, seeing Jose turn pale, "youfancied, you hardened, good-for-nothing, that your tricks would not bediscovered; thief, we know all: not content with having irreparablydestroyed a fine work, you have carried your villany so far as to stealfrom us the things necessary for your undertaking." Jose uttered acry of horror, and rushing towards his implacable mistress, who stillcontinued her invectives, he protested his innocence, in so far atleast as related to the second part of the accusation; but neither histears nor his protestations produced any effect upon the prejudicedminds of his employers. It had so happened that when they entered,the light which M. Barbe carried, fell directly upon the unfortunatefigure restored by Jose; and as nature had made him a colorist, aquality which can never be acquired, and one in which the young studentwas deficient, it was an easy matter to perceive the difference.Besides, poor Jose, in his embarrassment, had copied the left foot,which happened to be most convenient for him, without observing whetherit was the proper one, and had so placed it that the great toe was onthe outside. The loft in which the culprit slept was visited, and hisstill moist palette and colours left no doubt of what he had done.Barbe would have pardoned the injury done to the painting, but the ideaof theft revolted his honest nature, and it was difficult to avoidsuspecting Jose, since they were ignorant of Francisco's friendship forhim, and well knew that he had nothing of his own. It was in vain thathe related the simple truth, it only appeared an ingeniously concoctedstory; and Madame Barbe, after a second explosion of invectives, tookhim by the arm, and would have turned him out of doors that veryevening, had not her husband positively declared that he should remainfor that night. His wife, obliged to yield, revenged herself by seekingtwo or three of her neighbours, who hurried with malicious eagernessto see the left foot upon the right leg, and the woful condition ofpoor little Jose, choking with grief in a corner. He was spared none oftheir commentaries, these kind souls taking care to speak very loudlyand very distinctly.

  "Certainly," said one, "his mother did well to die, poor dear woman.She did not deserve such a son."

  "I always expected it," said another, "this is what comes of pickingup vagabonds; but Dame Robert is such an obstinate woman. What is oneto do?" A third added that everything must be locked up, and caretaken that he was never left alone. Finally, their cruelty was carriedto such extremes, that poor Jose was unable any longer to restrainhis sobs, which being heard by M. Barbe in his room, he immediatelyhastened to the poor child and sent him to bed.

  Jose passed a frightful night; a few hours more and he would be sentaway disgraced, and obliged to return to his adopted mother, withoutthe means of support, and with a charge of dishonesty weighing uponhim. One hope alone remained to him, Francisco might attest the truthof what he had said; he therefore determined to entreat M. Barbe, whowas more humane than his wife, to go and question Francisco, who wouldestablish his innocence; but even this resource failed the unfortunatechild. The same idea had occurred to Barbe, who was very fond of him,and early in the morning he had called upon M. Enguehard. Wishing tospare his favourite as much as possible, he merely asked Franciscowhether he had lent Jose any money. But Francisco not having been putupon his guard, and fearing lest he might in some manner injure hisfriend, or be reprimanded by his father, committed a fault too commonamong children, and in order to save Jose he told a falsehood, and byso doing completed his ruin, for he assured M. Barbe that he had notlent his apprentice anything. M. Enguehard knew nothing more, and Barbereturned, convin
ced of Jose's theft, and of the necessity of sendinghim away. He therefore repulsed him angrily when he came to present hisrequest, and told him to pack up his things. But Madame Barbe was not awoman to lose an opportunity of delivering a speech or making a scene,and therefore determined before expelling the unhappy boy, to obligehim to make an apology to the young student whom she had begged tocall at the shop. Jose almost happy at this unexpected respite, placedhis little bundle on the ground, and leaning upon it, cast a sorrowfullook on all the objects around him, and which he was about to leavefor ever. Gabri's vacant place caused his tears to flow afresh; wouldthat faithful friend believe his protestations any more than the rest,whilst proofs were so strong against him? At that moment the postmanplaced a letter in M. Barbe's hand. "Oh!" said the latter, "it is fromNogent-sur-Marne, and from friend Gabri. What can he have to write tous about?" and he read the letter to himself with signs of the greatestsurprise. Madame Barbe, impatient to know what it contained, snatchedit from his hand, and, after reading it, exclaimed, "Heaven be praised,this act of folly will never be committed. Listen to this," she said,calling to Jose, "behold the just punishment of your infamous conduct;"and she read, or rather declaimed the following letter:--

  "From Nogent-sur-Marne, my native place, September the 7th.

  "MONSIEUR BARBE,--Notwithstanding my intention of returning the day after that fixed by you, I write to inform you in a more authentic and convenient manner of my intentions with regard to Joseph Berr, called Jose, your apprentice. Monsieur Barbe, I have lost my wife and three children, three fine boys whom God has taken away from me; but I dare say I have already told you this. I have a nice little property perfectly free from all claims (a good seven thousand francs placed here in honest hands). Therefore, being master of my own will, which is to love and assist the said Jose, I intend that he shall follow the calling which he is so anxious for, viz., that of an artist, and for this I have bound myself, by my signature, which you will see at the end of the deed written by me upon stamped paper, and which accompanies this letter. I beg that it may be read to the said Jose, and never again recurred to, being, notwithstanding, Monsieur Barbe,

  "Your very faithful Servant, "SEBASTIAN GABRI."

  The second paper was as follows:--

  "Joseph Berr, called Jose, requiring, in order to be able to prosecute his studies in painting, during four years, a sum of money, which I possess, I give it to him as a loan which he will return to me when his profession becomes profitable, together with the interests and costs as is just and customary.

  f. c.

  "First. One franc per day for maintenance during the space of four years, making 1460 0

  Item. For entering the studio of a celebrated master, 15 francs per month for four years 720 0

  Item. For indemnifying Madame Barbe, for three years' apprenticeship, still due to her 50 0

  Item. For 25 centimes every Sunday, for child's amusements 52 0

  Item. For my journey hither by coach, expressly on his account 10 0

  Item. For my expenses while here 12 0

  Item. For this sheet of stamped paper 0 30

  Item. For interest during four years 460 6 -------- 2764 36

  "Which sum I undertake to pay, according as required, Provided that the board and lodging be furnished by Dame Robert as heretofore.

  "The said Jose will put his mark at the end of this deed, to which I also cheerfully put my name.

  "SEBASTIAN GABRI."

  It is easy to imagine the agony of poor Jose while listening to thereading of these papers; what would have overwhelmed him with joy theevening before, now filled him with anguish. Gabri, that tender andgenerous friend, as a reward for his sacrifice, was about to learn thatthe object of his care was unworthy of it. Still Jose was not guilty,and these bitter trials were now on the point of coming to the happiesttermination. Francisco, tormented as one always is by the consciousnessof having done wrong, and rendered uneasy about his friend on accountof M. Barbe's visit, determined to confess all to his father, who hadno difficulty in convincing him of the gravity of his fault, and ofthe inconvenience which might result to the innocent Jose, who mightperhaps be accused of having stolen the colours from his master.Francisco, alarmed at this idea, entreated his father to take himinstantly to M. Barbe's; and there, regardless of the spectators, hehad the courage and the merit to confess his fault, and thus completelyjustify his friend.

  Whilst Madame Barbe stood biting her lips, and saying, "It is verysingular, very strange," and her kind-hearted husband brushed the tearsfrom his eyes, the two boys affectionately embraced each other, andenjoyed the happiest moment of their young lives. A moment afterwards,Jose had another triumph, highly flattering indeed to his self-love,but not to be compared in real worth with the noble friendship ofFrancisco. The young author of the injured painting was with hismaster when Madame Barbe wrote to him her anything but clear accountof the accident, which she was anxious to turn to the disgrace ofpoor Jose. This master was the very Monsieur G---- before mentioned,who, recognising in the hero of the story, the child who had so muchinterested him at the Museum, wished to accompany his pupil to M.Barbe's. For a long time he examined in silence the attempt whichhad cost the poor boy so dear, then turning towards his pupil, "Ifyou don't make haste," he said, "I can tell you he will catch you."This man, distinguished as much by feeling as by genius, was able toappreciate the action of the worthy and generous Gabri; he read hisletter with emotion, and taking a pencil, ran it through the fifteenfrancs per month destined for Jose's instruction. "I cannot hope," hesaid, smiling, to Jose, "to be the _celebrated master_ mentioned byGabri, but he must at least let me teach you all I know."

  It may easily be imagined, that everything was arranged, withoutdifficulty, to the entire delight of the poor boy. Madame Barbe,awed by the presence of Monsieur G---- and Monsieur Enguehard, feltthat she must put some restraint upon her tongue. She unhesitatinglyaccepted, it is true, the indemnification of fifty francs, and onlymurmured on the day that Barbe presented Jose with his first box ofcolours. Dame Robert, who was consulted in all important arrangements,was at first somewhat discontented with Jose's choice; but she couldrefuse nothing to her dear child. "And, after all," she said, "it is atrade, like any other. I am only sorry that the apprenticeship is solong." She was completely consoled, however, when Jose came once moreto live with her.

  To complete Jose's happiness, M. Enguehard, a short time after theseoccurrences, begged M. G---- to receive his son as a pupil. The twofriends, therefore, were again together, following the same career withequal ardour, and although with different success, still without anyinterruption to their mutual friendship.

  Those who are curious to know whether Jose justified the hopes inspiredby his childhood, may have their curiosity gratified by a perusal ofthe Second Part of his history.

  SEQUEL TO THE HISTORY OF POOR JOSE.

  How tranquil and pleasant is the life of the artist! He possesses anadvantage which is denied even to the fortunate of this world,--anoccupation always affording amusement and variety, together with analmost total indifference to everything which does not bear directlyupon painting. The artist sees that all is quiet in the town in whichhe lives; this is enough for him: scarcely does he know the names ofthe ministers in office, and he is the last to learn what is goingon around. Occupied the who
le day with his art, his studio is hisuniverse; and at night, in the midst of a re-union of friends, artistslike himself, he still dwells upon his favourite idea, which is neverabsent from his mind, while he gains instruction, or is inspired withincreased ardour by the conversation of his colleagues or rivals. Thesere-unions are gay, and abound in wit, as well as in mischief. Not afew of those caricatures which attract the loungers of the Boulevardsand the Rue du Coq, have been sketched by a skilful hand during thesemoments of recreation. A few amiable women, authors, distinguishedmusicians, and poets, make a part of these seductive meetings: each oneamuses himself according to his fancy; and if the mirth is sometimes alittle noisy, and the wit a little too free, wit and mirth are at leastalways to be found in them.

  But if the artist is happy, the student is even more so. The former,being no longer at an age in which he can advance much, is keenlyalive to his own deficiencies, and, if it must be owned, often lookswith a jealous eye on the success of his brother artists; while tothe other, on the contrary the horizon of his hopes is unbounded, andemulation but a healthy stimulant, which does not degenerate into envy.The student tries to excel his companions, but he loves them all; heencourages the less skilful, frankly admires those who are superior tohimself, and, while pursuing his laborious occupations, seldom fails tolay the foundation of one of those honourable and lasting friendshipswhich embellish the remainder of his life. Little favoured by fortune,as a general rule, these young men endure privations with cheerfulness,or rather their simple habits prevent them from feeling them as such.The whole of their time and powers, being constantly directed towardsthe one object in view, there is no space left for the minor passions,which so often disturb the mind of youth. The pleasures of the toiletare unknown to him who spends his days in the studio, and publicamusements are too expensive to be thought of more than once or twicea year.

  Francisco and Jose, re-united as we have already said in the studioof a celebrated painter, led a life in every way consonant to theirtastes; but Jose especially felt the happiness of a condition, towhich he had never thought it possible to attain. He was no longerthe hapless child, rescued from the street by the benevolence of akind-hearted woman, but a fine young man, the honour and hope ofMonsieur G----'s studio, and, what was still better, a good young man,always simple and modest, almost ashamed of being distinguished, andredoubling his attentions towards his first protectors, in proportionas his success rendered them less necessary to him. The excellentGabri devoted a portion of the sum which had been destined for hisinstruction to the hire of a room in the house in which Dame Robertlived, where Jose could work without much inconvenience. He rose veryearly, and commenced the labours of the day by making pictures ofeverything that presented itself to his imagination, or copied drawingslent to him by his master. After a hasty breakfast, he repaired to thestudio, worked until five o'clock, when, accompanied by Francisco, andconversing together on their projects and hopes, he quietly returnedhome. M. Enguehard often invited him to dinner, and took great pleasurein extending his knowledge in such a manner as might be useful tohim. Thanks to the kind instruction of Madame Enguehard, and to hisown natural abilities, he soon learned to read and write; while M.Enguehard especially endeavoured to make him acquainted with historyand fable,--acquirements indispensable to a painter, who, in fact,ought not, if it were possible, to remain in ignorance of any branch ofknowledge. Everything can and ought to tend to his advancement in art:travel, reading, science, the habits of different classes of society,solitude, happiness, and misery, all are useful and profitable to himwho seeks to represent, with the utmost possible truth, the acts andpassions of man.

  Francisco and Jose had not yet reached what might be called the moralportion of their studies; but Jose could form some idea of it, andbegan to make, beforehand, his provisions for the future. During thewinter evenings, the two friends used to draw by lamplight, from seventill ten, according to the custom of almost all the students. Each paya trifling sum monthly for the hire of the room, the models, and thelights. The students of the various academies assemble together, andtheir masters often take pleasure in passing an hour with them, andaiding them with their counsel.

  It may, perhaps, be thought that such constant occupation must be veryfatiguing, but there are so many attractions, and so much novelty, inthe study of art, that weariness is seldom felt, especially in the fullvigour of youth; and those who have experienced it, can say whether aweek in the life of a man of the world does not leave behind it morelassitude, more weariness, and more void, than one such as I have justdescribed. Besides, all is not labour in these pursuits: they rest,they chat; ideas are exchanged and corrected; the rich are generoustowards the poor, and never refuse to share with them their experience.The character even is improved in these studious reunions--images inminiature of the great world into which they will have, at a laterperiod, to be thrown; it is no longer the rod and the rule of college,but it is still the salutary influence of companionship; it isemulation, and a something of the honours of renown, without that alloywhich so often spoils it for man. But woe to the sullen and morose!woe to those who cherish absurd or bad propensities! for justice isspeedily rendered either by bitter sarcasm or by force. There, aselsewhere, the most distinguished take the lead, and it can easily beunderstood that studies, whose aim in general is to trace the goodand the beautiful, may tend to elevate the mind, and strengthen everygenerous sentiment of the heart.

  Jose enjoyed, with intense delight, the idea of being somethingof himself, of seeing before him the almost certain prospect ofan honourable subsistence, acquired by a great talent. He may oneday, perhaps, be rich; the name of Berr may one day be uttered withrespect, and his pictures placed with care in the cabinets of the mostfastidious lovers of art; but I may confidently assert, in advance,that nothing will be so dear to him, that nothing will efface from hismemory the remembrance of the time, when, on the Monday, accompanied byFrancisco, each went to purchase his sheet of tinted paper, or when,before retiring to rest, once more turning his canvass to take anotherlook at the morning's work, he ventured to hope for all that he mightthen possess.

  Profoundly impressed with the obligations which he was under to DameRobert and to Gabri, he made it a law to himself never to lose asingle day during the whole four years of his pupilage. Always thefirst at the studio, he never left before the time of the lessons,as is sometimes done by those idlers who, having gossiped or wastedin play the whole of the morning, hide themselves at the arrival ofthe master, who supposes them absent. Still, Jose was not always inan equally favourable disposition; the games and boyish tricks of hiscompanions possessed some attraction for him; but he rarely yielded tothe temptation, and did all he could to prevent his too volatile friendFrancisco from doing so. "What matters," said the latter, "losinga few hours? We have time enough!" and Francisco wasted his timewithout scruple. Nevertheless, his natural ability, and a few weeks'steadiness, always kept him pretty nearly in the second rank among hiscompanions.

  At the expiration of a year, Jose began to paint sufficiently wellfrom nature to attempt some portraits; and he eagerly availed himselfof this means of being less burdensome to his friend Gabri. At hisexpress desire, Dame Robert persuaded one of her relations _to haveher face drawn in colours_; at the same time assuring her, that herboy _was well skilled in his business_. Jose would certainly have beensadly distressed could he have heard her thus torture the language ofart; but, happily, he was not present, and the good woman, with two orthree phrases of this kind, persuaded her cousin, who merely stipulatedthat she should be painted with two eyes, and with her lace cap andcoral ear-rings. This portrait was to be finished for her husband'sbirthday. Jose therefore left the studio a little earlier every day;and, as the likeness was very striking, and had but little shade, whilethe eyes looked full at the spectator, and the coral ear-rings seemed_as if they could be taken in the fingers_, the work was universallyapplauded. The young painter received innumerable compliments, twelvefrancs, and several commissions, whic
h, although paid for below theirvalue, so much increased his little store, that he had the satisfactionof being able, at the end of a year, to reimburse Gabri for the hire ofhis room, and Dame Robert for the trifling expense of his board. Thegreater his advancement, the more profitable did his talents become;and he at length followed the example of many other students of slendermeans, who, having the good sense not to be ashamed of employing theirtalents in sign-painting, adorn the shops of Paris with what mightalmost be called handsome pictures.

  All Monsieur G----'s instructions were attentively listened to by Jose,who sometimes even wrote down the most remarkable passages beforehe went to bed. One phrase especially struck him as being the truedefinition of an artist. "Three things," said this clever master tohis pupils, "are requisite for him who devotes his life to the finearts,--genius to conceive, taste to select, and talent to execute."These conditions are equally applicable to the musician and to thepoet; but who can flatter himself with being possessed at once of allthese three qualifications? Jose dare not cherish such a hope; he darenot believe that he had genius; but taste and talent might be acquired,he thought; and, as our sage little friend was still but just emergedfrom childhood, he wrote in large letters, upon his table and upon hiseasel, the words which thus became to him a fundamental law of painting.

  The excellent Gabri experienced the most heartfelt joy at the successof his _protege_; he frequently visited him when at work in his room,and, for fear of disturbing him, would remain in perfect silence behindhis chair, and then, after embracing him, he would go down to listen toDame Robert's chat. As we have already observed, Gabri was no talker;their intercourse, therefore, was rather a monologue than a dialogue;but he was never weary of listening, so long as Jose was the theme;but when Dame Robert went on to any other subject, "Good evening,neighbour," he would say; "Madame Barbe is expecting me, and you knowshe is not one to make light of things."

  One morning, at the class, Monsieur G---- said to his pupils,"Gentlemen, you will to-morrow have a new companion. I recommend him toyour kindness. Not too many experiments or jokes, if you please. He isvery young, and, doubtless, but little experienced in your ways; be,therefore, good boys. He is sent to me by the city of Angers. Berr,my friend, you will place him by you; and I beg that you, Enguehard,will not show off the Parisian too much." Francisco smiled, withoutreplying; but Monsieur G----'s speech produced the ordinary effect,and which he very well knew himself. The desire of tormenting the newcomer immediately seized all these young madcaps, and Francisco inparticular. "Oh!" said he, "a pupil from the provinces! how odd thatwe have had none before. And they think I shall not amuse myself withthis young Raphael from Angers! Stuff! our master very well knows thevalue of his recommendations in this line." And Francisco, encouragedby the laughter of his auditors, began to make a grotesque sketch uponthe wall which he assured them was an exact portrait of the Angevin.

  "Angevin! Yes, that must be his name," said another young rogue, theusual companion of Francisco's follies; "you know how that exasperatesthem."

  "Oh! as to that," replied Francisco, "we have all our nicknames: am Inot the Madcap, and Berr the Phoenix? But listen! I'll tell you whatwe must do;" and hereupon these two giddy brains began whispering in acorner. Jose hazarded a few words in favour of the provincial; but hewas only laughed at, and was at last obliged to end by joining in theirmirth, though he determined, nevertheless, to exert his influence tothe utmost at the proper time, in order to save the new pupil from toomuch annoyance.

  Many of the provincial towns had then, and still have, academies ofpainting, destined for the artistic education of children in humblecircumstances; and the pupil who displayed the greatest amount oftalent was sent to Paris, to continue his studies under a better masterthan could generally be obtained in a small town, the expenses ofthose studies being defrayed by the establishment which elected him.The youth, from whom Francisco and his mischievous companions expectedso much diversion, had been chosen by the professors of the Academyof Angers as the most promising of its pupils. This, however, wasnot saying much; and it did not unfrequently happen, that those whooccupied the first rank in the Departmental Schools, were, on enteringthose of Paris, immediately placed in the lowest; still, however,fortunate that the principles inculcated by their professors werenot those of the time of Jouvenet and Boucher. The young student had,unhappily, been directed by an old master--an admirer of that age ofabsurdity and bad taste. He made his pupils copy figures in red chalk,portraits in pastel, and showed them with pride his prize picture--forhe, too, had been to Rome. But we may judge of the merits of hisrivals, and of the advantage he derived from his journey, when we learnthat this picture, regarded by him thirty years afterwards as hisbest production, represented Cleobis and Biton; and that the Greciancharacters wore Roman armour, and draperies of gauze and silk. To crownhis misfortune, the poor candidate, small, ill-made, and more thanplainly attired, not so much in conformity with the fashions of hisprovince as with the length of his purse, presented an appearance notaltogether unlike the caricature sketched by Francisco upon the wall;and it may, therefore, be easily imagined, that these young satiristsdid not lose so favourable an opportunity of exercising their humour.

  Scarcely had the young man entered, than he was received with noisyacclamations; and two of the pupils, eagerly pressing forward toreceive him, overwhelmed him with ironical and _outre_ compliments.

  "Sir!" they exclaimed, "your reputation has preceded you; theadmiration of your native city was insufficient for such distinguishedmerit. You are about to receive the homage of Paris, while you haveours already...."

  "The name of the Angevin is already celebrated," added another; "and itwill be handed down to posterity like that of Josepin."

  "But, gentlemen," said the unfortunate victim,--speaking as if allthe A's and E's had circumflex accents over them, according to theagreeable custom of his province,--"Gentlemen, I am not calledthe Angevin. My father's, as well as my own name, is Valentin laGrimaudiere."[3]

  This name, and especially the tone in which it was pronounced, a kindof sing-song, difficult of imitation to those unacquainted with thefair province of Anjou, excited fresh bursts of laughter; and Franciscoagain taking the word, "You must be aware, Sir," he said, gravely, andat the same time endeavouring to imitate the accent of the stranger,"that the great painters are rarely known by their true names. Thus wespeak of Dominichino and Guercino, instead of Dominico Zampieri, andBarbieri da Cento. Assuredly then it is not surprising that you shouldbe called the Angevin."

  "But, gentlemen," replied the simple youth, "you are indeed too good; Ido not deserve...."

  "You deserve our most profound respect, illustrious companion,"interrupted Francisco. "Gentlemen, I present to you the glory of theAngevin Academy, the hero of Pasticcio,[4] the conqueror of Stipling,and the favourite of the Rococos.[5] And to you, noble Angevin, Ipresent my especial friends, Landort, Galvaudeur (the Disturber), LaPicoterie (the Torment), Rubens the Younger, and myself, Le Braque (theMadcap), your very humble servant. Now, my worthy friend, you know usperfectly, so away with ceremony; take your place, my Gringalet, andlet us see what you can do. At the first rest, you shall be made toread, to write, and to sing, and, after the model, you shall pay yourwelcome."

  The unfortunate Angevin, bewildered by this torrent of bad jokes,dared neither reply nor resist. He had arrived early, in the hopeof finding his future companions less numerous; but his precautionhad proved a failure. Francisco, and the merry participators in hisfollies, had divined his intention, and their diligence surpassed hisown. The more sober pupils had not yet arrived; and Jose, detained bya portrait which he had to finish that morning, did not arrive untillate, so that the innocent victim remained unprotected in the midst ofhis persecutors. Although he had announced himself as having painted,Monsieur G---- made him commence by drawing, in order to judge of hispower.

  "Sit there," said Francisco, pointing to an empty seat between twoof his companions; "the call has been made, but that is t
he place ofhonour, the best for the light, and the one always chosen by the firston the master's list;" and he pushed the poor lad towards the placewhich his mischief had destined for him.

  As studios in repute are usually well attended, and as space is notalways in proportion to the number of the pupils, they are oftenmuch inconvenienced, and press round the model in three or four rowsof different elevations. Those of the first row are seated uponlow wooden benches; those of the second upon chairs; others againupon high stools; while, behind these, upon still higher stools, orstanding, come those who paint, with scarcely room for themselvesand their light easels. The place pointed out by Francisco to theunfortunate competitor, was upon one of the little benches, so thatabove him were seated two pupils who amused themselves by restingtheir drawing-boards upon his head, and obliged him to hold it bentdown, in a position by no means convenient, especially for lookingat the model, which was placed upon a table two or three feet high.Besides, the disagreeable person above him, pretending to be obliged totouch and retouch his work again and again, crumbled up large piecesof bread, which he afterwards shook over the work of the patientAngevin. More than one bullet of bread was aimed at his nose, too,and by such well-practised hands, that their occupation seemed in noway interrupted. Conversation, however, flowed on as usual, whilethe elder students, busied with their work, thought no more of thestranger. He, poor fellow, tormented, crushed, with heavy drops ofperspiration standing on his brow, and not daring to utter a syllable,smudged his paper at random, while tears rolled down his cheeks whenhe thought of the opinion Monsieur G---- would form of his talents.Summoning up his courage, however, he at length ventured to addresshis right-hand neighbour, and said gently, "Would you be so kind as tolend me your penknife, Sir?" No reply. "Sir;" he resumed in a somewhatlouder tone, and gently touching him, "if you have a penknife...."The young man looked at him with astonishment, and pointing to hisear, gave him to understand that he was deaf. The Angevin sighed,not wishing to speak louder, for fear of again becoming an object ofridicule, and turning towards his left-hand neighbour, he again said,"Oblige me with a penknife, Sir, if you please." The student raised hishead, and replied gravely, "_Non intelligo, domine; non sum Gallus._""But, Sir, it is a penknife I want," continued the Angevin, at the sametime making a movement with his fingers, as if cutting a pencil. Hismischievous companion pretended not to understand him, and affectingto believe that he was making game of him, he pretended to be angry,and gave him so rude a push that he almost fell from his by no meanssteady seat. His portfolio escaped from his hold, and all the drawingsand papers contained in it flew into the middle of the room. TheAngevin, in despair, crept as softly as possible to pick them up, buthis persecutors were not yet weary of the sport. "Get away from themodel! Silence!" exclaimed those of the last row, who were disturbed bythis commotion. "To the hunt! dog! hunt!" cried the others. At lengththe poor boy succeeded in returning to his place; but he found himselfso much pressed, and so ill at ease, his companions having designedlydrawn closer together, that, urged to extremes, his anger was on thepoint of triumphing over his timidity, when the door opened, and Joseappeared.

  "Ah! Phoenix, Phoenix!" exclaimed the young students. "Good morning,my brave Phoenix," said Francisco; "you are late for a Monday morning,and will get no place for painting."--"I shall not paint this week,"replied Jose, advancing towards the fire-place; then looking roundhim he said, "Who will give me his place, and I will give him mystudy?"--"I! I!" exclaimed several voices.

  "Come, then!" said Jose, who had immediately observed the uncomfortableposition of the Angevin, "it shall be you, Maurice;" and he pointed tothe pupil seated beside the stranger, who had pretended to be deaf."Bravo!" exclaimed Maurice, rising, "I shall have your study. Besides,I am not very industriously disposed. I shall do nothing this week.I'll be a gentleman at large!"

  Jose took his place, and by a glance caused the drawing-boards whichcrushed his unfortunate _protege_ to be removed: then, as if he hadforgotten to bring paper with him, he asked him for a sheet. TheAngevin hastened to comply with the request, and Jose having kindlyaddressed some questions to him, he began to feel a little more athis ease. At the hour of recreation, these mischief-loving urchinsagain met to decide whether some grand joke could not be played offupon their victim; but Jose, stepping into the midst of the group,exclaimed, "No! no! gentlemen, enough of this; let us leave the poorfellow in peace; he is not a Paris boy, and I demand an exception inhis favour. I was far more of a foreigner among you than he is, yethave I found in you most excellent comrades."

  Jose was so much beloved, and possessed so much influence over hiscompanions, that their sport had no longer any interest for them themoment he disapproved of it; so the Angevin was abandoned to his youngprotector. The nickname alone adhered to him, and it was not longbefore they discovered in him so much kindness and good-nature, thatthey soon ceased to have any desire of tormenting him. He obtained thegood opinion of all his fellow-students; but Jose was his friend, andto serve him he would have gone through fire and water.

  Solon has, I think, said: "No praise before death;" and he saidwisely, for one moment of forgetfulness might tarnish even the mostirreproachable life. Who can boast of being infallible, especiallyin youth? Jose, the prudent Jose, learned this to his cost; for,unhappily, these reflections apply to him. It was his first fault; butit was a serious one, as we shall show.

  Occasionally, during the summer, Jose's companions formed themselvesinto little parties, and spent the day in the country in an inexpensivemanner; for they had both good legs and a good appetite, and requiredonly simple fare. They went into the environs of Paris, and returnedhome in the evening, after spending a pleasant day. But Jose, thoughkeenly alive to the pleasure of these parties, often refused to jointhem, as they occasioned a loss of time which to him was very precious.However, the fete of Saint Cloud was approaching, and Franciscoproposed going to see the fountains play. This proposition was eagerlyacceded to, and Jose felt a strong desire to accompany them. He hadnever seen the fountains play, and this sight possesses powerfulattractions to a Parisian, and especially to a young man like Jose,who was ignorant of almost everything foreign to his studies. It was,therefore, decided that they should form a party of twelve, dine atSaint Cloud, and share the expenses between them. Jose communicatedhis project to Dame Robert, and this excellent woman loved him tootenderly to oppose what appeared likely to afford him so much pleasure;nevertheless, at the moment of his departure, she followed him to thedoor, recommending him not to lose his purse in the crowd, and not getinto any quarrel with the boothkeepers at the fair. Jose smiled at herfears, and hastened to rejoin his friends, who were to meet him at theTuileries.

  The young people merrily pursued their way, already amused withthe procession of carriages, horses, carts, and pedestrians, likethemselves, all taking the same direction. On arriving at Saint Cloud,they commenced with a simple breakfast, the greater part of theirlittle treasure being reserved for their evening meal. They then tooka survey of the booths, admired the cascades, listened to the bands,marvelled at the conjurors, and even laughed at Punch's buffoonery, asthe numerous spectators of this fete are annually accustomed to do atthe same season of the year. They several times fell in with a troopof young men, pupils of a different master, and their rivals in gloryand talent. These two studios were jealous and inimical, as well fromparty spirit as from a sentiment of attachment to their masters; andthis animosity had been manifested in more than one encounter of classagainst class, for there existed between them no individual aversion.On this occasion, they looked at each other with an expression of irony.

  "Oh, oh!" cried Jose's companions, "here are the Princes of _Babocheux_and _Flou-flou_."[6]

  "Yes, gentlemen," replied the others, "ready to admire your _Croutesaux epinards_."[7]

  Each made a grimace; but they separated without saying anything more.

  Returned to the inn, after having wandered about for a considerabletime, Jose and his companions were prepared to
enjoy a repast, daintyto them, from their simple habits; and they contemplated it with adegree of satisfaction, which would have made many young people,spoiled either by fortune or by their parents, shrug their shoulderswith contempt. Their table was laid in what was called the garden,a small enclosure surrounded by walls, and covered with a trelliswork, ornamented with honey-suckle and vine. This spot was capable ofcontaining five or six tables, separated by partitions, also of trelliswork, and though very warm, still there was a little more air therethan in the house; besides the circumstances of the guests permittedthem no choice, and our young students were therefore very wellsatisfied at being so comfortably located.

  As may be imagined, there was no lack of conversation; this turned atfirst upon their good cheer, which they had time enough to enjoy, asthe waiters were so much occupied, that they allowed full half an hourto intervene between each course.

  "Well! Angevin, my friend," said Francisco,--for Jose's protection hadcaused him to be received into the party,--"what do you think of thisMarinade?[8] something better than your usual fare, hey!"

  "I should think so," replied the Angevin, holding out his plate forthe third or fourth time. "Plague take the stew, I shan't touch itto-morrow."

  "What!" cried the young folks, laughing; "what do you mean by the stew?"

  "Oh! nothing, nothing," replied the Angevin, already regretting hisindiscretion; but his companions insisting, and Jose joining in theirrequest, he told them, laughingly, that, finding it impossible to livein Paris in any other than the most economical manner, he had ended,after trying various plans, by purchasing a large stew-pan and anearthen stove. He filled it once a week with turnips, potatoes, and afew slices of bacon, which he boiled altogether, and this _ragout_,which was hot only for the first time, served him for dinner during thewhole week. He was so much accustomed to call it his stew, that theword had inadvertently escaped him in the presence of his companions.

  "My poor fellow!" said Jose, holding out his hand to him. "PoorAngevin!" repeated the others; and, so far from laughing, a momentarysilence pervaded the whole party.

  "Gentlemen," said Francisco, who blushed at the remembrance of themurmurs which often escaped him on account of what he called hisfather's unnecessary economy; "I am going to propose a toast: to thesuccess of our worthy comrade! May he gain the prize, even though Ishould myself have to be left behind him."

  The young friends rose, and eagerly touched their glasses, while theAngevin, deeply moved, repeated, in a tone of emotion, "Oh! Berr, Berr,it is to you that I owe all this!"

  Their conversation then turned upon painting, and upon the hopesentertained by Francisco and Jose, who flattered themselves with beingthis year permitted to compete for the prize, not, however, with thepresumptuous hope of obtaining it, for they were both very young,especially Jose; but the mere fact of being admitted to the competitioncounted for much, and they might perhaps deserve honourable mention.Francisco had, moreover, an additional motive for desiring, as soon aspossible, to distinguish himself. Glory was not the only passion whichagitated his breast; for some time past he had grieved at being withoutfortune or reputation, which prevented him from aspiring to an alliancewhich would have crowned his fondest wishes. But this prospect was sodistant and so uncertain that he had never spoken of it, even to Jose,except once, and then very vaguely.

  Whilst, then, they were conversing upon art, with an enthusiasmworthy of the subject, they were interrupted by a loud noise, whichproceeded from a room on the first-floor, immediately above thespot where they were dining. As the window was open, it was easy tooverhear what passed, and, by a natural feeling of curiosity, the youngguests checked their conversation, in order to listen to their joyousneighbours.

  "By the powers!" cried one, "here's a splendid _charge_[9] it ought tobe hung up in Barbe's shop; the veriest _rapin_[10] would recognise it!"

  "Yes," said another, "it is his very self, with his vagabond air! Ah!ah! my gentlemen of the green and yellow school! you fancy you aregoing to carry off the next prizes from us, do you? We shall see, mylads! we shall see!"

  Our young friends looked at each other with indignation, and softlyapproached the window, in order to hear more, for they recognised theirantagonists, who doubtless little imagined they were so near.

  "For my part," said one of the rival students, "I fear neither Rivolnor Enguehard, nor even the famous Berr, about whom they make such afuss; he is ready enough, and up to the tricks of the art, and that'sall. Enguehard is an idle dog, who does no good, while Rivol is toowell off ever to be anything more than an amateur and a dauber. So downwith the Purists, and long life to the Colourists!"

  "Long life to the Colourists!" shouted his companions, and theyadded many other jests so bitter and so personal, that Jose and hisfriends, already animated by a few glasses of wine, to which they wereunaccustomed, could no longer restrain their indignation, and commencedthe attack by throwing into the room plates, knives, and anythingelse which happened to come in their way. The enemy hastened to thewindow, and recognising their adversaries, uttered shouts of laughter,which completely exasperated the others. A decanter, thrown by Jose,struck the forehead of one of the Colourists, who in their turn becamefurious, and began to make a descent, by means of the trellis-workplaced beneath the window, for the purpose of crushing theirantagonists. A battle then ensued, amidst bitter insults. Fragmentsof broken chairs flew about in all directions, the women at theneighbouring tables screamed, the children cried, and the men rushedforward to separate the combatants, without being in the least able tounderstand the invectives with which they overwhelmed each other, underthe names of Purists and Colourists. The landlord of the inn, attractedby the noise, ran towards the scene of action, followed by his waiters,and they succeeded, without much difficulty, in calming those who wereonly _soldiers_--for they fought solely for the honour of their corps.But the chiefs did not so readily listen to reason; Enguehard wasstretched upon the ground, his arms pinioned by the two stout hands ofa Colourist, and Jose, absolutely out of his senses, was stifling, withthe weight of his knee, the young man who had spoken of him with somuch contempt, and who had just been conquered by his impetuosity.

  These four madmen would listen to nothing, and were at length obligedto be separated by main force; but Jose, while still struggling,slipped over some pieces of the broken plates, and gave himself soviolent a twist that he was unable to rise, and was obliged to remainseated on the ground, suffering excruciating pain.

  It being proved by the testimony of eye-witnesses, that the youngpeople in the garden had commenced this memorable battle, by throwingplates into the room, and that the Colourists had only broken thetrellis-work in descending, the landlord contented himself with aslight sum as indemnification, and allowed them to depart; but Joseand his friends had done considerable damage, and had been the firstto commence the disturbance; they had only sufficient money to defraythe expenses of their dinner, and the innkeeper declared that he wouldbe paid, and that he should send for the police. Francisco increasedthe man's anger, by the rage into which he put himself; the poorAngevin employed prayers and tears, to soften the innkeeper; whileJose, ashamed, and in despair, maintained a gloomy silence, abandoninghimself to the most melancholy reflections, when his name, pronouncedby a severe and well-known voice, made him utter a cry, and hide hisface in his hands.

  The voice was that of the good and vigilant Gabri, who had been inducedby his active friendship for Jose to follow him to the fete, and towatch over the inexperience which he very justly attributed to him. Hehad watched the young men from a distance, and determined not to makehis appearance, except in case of accident; finally, having been ableto find accommodation only at the farther end of the place occupied bythem at the inn, he had been the last to arrive at the scene of action.

  "Sir," he said coldly to the innkeeper, "estimate the damage done, andmake out your account; I will discharge the debts of these madcaps, whoare of my acquaintance, and we will afterwards settle matters together." r />
  The host, who was no cheat, and who was, moreover, too happy to be paidwithout any further trouble, made out a tolerably reasonable account,which Gabri immediately discharged. Then telling Francisco and theAngevin to support Jose, who was unable to walk, he placed him in acarriage, and drove off with him, after having saluted the troop ofstudents, who were still too much bewildered by what had taken placeeven to think of thanking him.

  Gabri had placed Jose in the cabriolet in as convenient a positionas possible for his injured leg, while he went upon the box himself,and during the whole of their way home never once addressed a singleword to the poor sufferer, nor even turned his head towards him,notwithstanding the complaints which the constant jolting of the rudevehicle drew from the culprit. The well-paid coachman took them asfar as Dame Robert's door. "There, there he is," said Gabri to theterrified woman, "and now good evening; I will see him again when hehas recovered, and grown wiser;" and he turned away without listeningto Dame Robert's exclamations, who in her trouble did not perceivethat Jose had almost fainted. He was conveyed to bed, his dislocatedankle set, and his numerous bruises attended to: but the wine whichhe had taken, and the violent excitement which had followed an excessaltogether new to him, brought on a somewhat severe illness, whichlasted for several days; and even when it was subdued he was obligedto remain six weeks with his foot resting upon a chair, without beingable to move. We may judge of his grief and remorse, which manycircumstances contributed to augment. Gabri allowed his heart to betouched by his repentance, and consented to see him; but he was sad,and Dame Robert uneasy; and Jose was one day deeply grieved to see her,while thinking herself unobserved, lock up a bottle of brandy which wasstanding near him.

  Soon afterwards he had to endure a far more bitter trial. The timefor competing for the prizes arrived; Francisco was admitted forthe sketches; while Jose, who was only just beginning to walk, andwhose studies had, moreover, been too much interrupted, was obligedto give up all hope for that year, and endure the mortification offinding himself left behind by companions considerably less advancedthan himself. Francisco, though sincerely grieved at his friend'smisfortune, felt his ardour increased from not having to compete withso formidable a rival. He made astonishing efforts to sustain thehonour of the school, but he only obtained the second prize, which didnot send its possessor to Rome: the first was carried off by that samechief of the Colourists who had spoken of Jose with so much contempt:and thus the poor boy remained with the bitter remembrance of twomonths passed in suffering, of a triumph lost, and of a folly committed.

  However, as it is not considered that a young man must necessarily bedishonoured because he has once been intoxicated and beaten, Jose,after having passed some time in a state of complete apathy, at lengthtook courage. He perceived, that instead of abandoning himself to vainregrets he ought to endeavour to repair his fault, while that intimateconsciousness of power, in which even the most modest cannot helpbelieving, told him, that he _could_ repair everything. It usuallyhappens after a first fault, that a young man either turns from theevil path, or pursues it for the rest of his life. Jose had toomuch superiority of nature not to profit by experience. Redoubling,therefore, both his assiduity and zeal, he made such marked progressduring the course of the current year, that Monsieur G. decided that healso might compete as well as Francisco and Rivol.

  The place in which the young people then worked at their prizepictures, was situated at the top of that same _Pavilion du Musee_,of which we have already spoken. It was divided into several littlecompartments, or cells, called _boxes_, in each of which a studentwas shut up, so as to allow him no communication with his companions,and still less with his master or with strangers. The subject for thepicture was chosen by the professors of painting of the Institution;the programme was distributed to the candidates, and when theirsketches were made, and received, they were all to commence theirpictures at the same time, according to those sketches, withoutchanging anything. Each morning, on arriving, they were rigidlysearched, in order to make sure that they brought with them no drawingsor engravings which could in any manner aid them. Thus left to theirown resources, they passed two months in this manner, _en loge_, asit is termed; and these pictures, the figures in which were one thirdthe size of life, were publicly exhibited during three days before theprizes were awarded. But although it was strictly forbidden for thepupils to see their respective works, in order, doubtless, to preventthe weak from being aided by the strong, or to take care that a happyidea should remain the sole property of its author--notwithstanding, Isay, all these precautions, the students of that time, less sensibleperhaps than those of the present day, found means of visiting eachother without being perceived. The windows of their cells all lookedin the same direction, upon a small, dirty, and almost unfrequentedsquare, in which is now situated one of the gates leading to the quay.These temporary abodes were, as we have already said, situated in theroof, all the windows opening upon wide leads, unprotected by railings.These madcaps, at the imminent risk of breaking their necks by fallingfrom an immense height, glided by this way from one cell to another.The more scrupulous closed their windows, so as to prevent intrusion;but two days before the expiration of the time allowed for thepictures, each student permitted, without difficulty, his work to beinspected by his companions, and the little Areopagus, with remarkablesagacity and impartiality, precisely anticipated the decrees of thegreater one, and awarded the first and second prize in such a manner,that there is scarcely an example of their decisions having turned outerroneous.

  Jose, who took the first rank in the sketches, now prepared to submitto this trial, so severe, but, at the same time, so important to him.Monsieur G. had recommended the reputation of his studio to his pupils.Three times had they competed, without any of them obtaining the firstprize. It was necessary to repair this disgrace, and be avenged forthe late success of the Colourists. In addition to two formidablerivals in the opposition school, Jose had to contend against his twofriends, Francisco and Rivol, who, besides having already competedfor the prize, had, also, the advantage of age--Jose was then onlyfifteen years and a half old; but these considerations by no meansdiscouraged him; and fired by that enthusiastic and true love of artwhich overcomes all difficulties, he commenced, though not withoutemotion, the required picture, the subject of which was the "Death ofHippolytus."

  Dame Robert, as may be imagined, was greatly excited, and her mindwholly absorbed by her darling boy's undertaking. Certainly, had shebeen consulted, Jose would have had nothing to fear; but neither thegood woman's indulgence, nor Gabri's affection, could avail poor Joseanything--they must wait. "If," said Dame Robert, "I could only seewhat they are doing, I should soon find out whether Jose had not leftthem behind; but they are cloistered up like so many monks, and whenthe boy comes home at night, he does not even so much as give us a hintas to how things are going on."

  Gabri, equally anxious, but more discreet than Dame Robert, did notseek to elicit anything from Jose; but he watched him carefully, sighedwhen the poor boy appeared depressed, and rubbed his hands with gleewhen he seemed happy.

  The good-natured Angevin, who was not yet sufficiently advanced tocompete for the prize, was deeply interested in the success of hisfriend; but he felt little uneasiness, for he knew that Jose was veryfar superior to his rivals. He too would have liked to have seen hiswork, but he was obliged to content himself with walking beneath thewindows of the young captives, and see their heads pop out and inoccasionally, like so many marionettes, with now and then a mahl-stickaccompanying them, and serving to complete the resemblance.

  Six weeks had passed away, the pictures were advancing, and as, withthe exception of Jose and his companions, the competitors were ofdifferent schools, he had seen only the work of his friends; and hisown was so far superior to theirs, that a hope which he scarcely daredown, even to himself, made his heart beat high within his breast. Hehad nothing to fear from the other students, as they were all inferiorto Francisco and Rivol. He was standing, the
refore, contemplating witha kind of secret pleasure the group of terrified horses which he hadjust completed, when Francisco tapped at his window, and immediatelyafterwards leaping into the room, told him, with a countenanceexpressive of the utmost concern, that he was in despair, and shouldnever succeed with his figure of Aricia, which was in the programmedistributed for the picture. Subjects are usually selected with but fewfemale figures, these being more difficult for the young artists, asthey cannot have models; and the unfortunate Aricia, which almost allof them had reserved till the last, had completely wrecked both thecourage and talent of Francisco. He looked with admiration on Jose'sAricia, for he had been entirely successful, at least in his sketch.Jose, anxious to soothe the agitation of his friend, accompanied himacross the leads to his cell, in order to examine the figure which somuch distressed him: he found it awkward, ill-drawn, and in bad taste,and could not conceal from his friend that he thought it detestable.This, of course, served only to increase Francisco's despair. Hedashed his palette to the ground, stamped upon it, broke his brushes,and ended by crying with rage. Jose embraced and tried to soothe him,and at length, by dint of kindness and encouragement, succeeded inpersuading him that all was not yet lost, and that he could stillrepaint the figure during the week that yet remained to them. Hepointed out to him what he had to avoid, and raised his courage bydwelling on the merits of the rest of the picture. At last, afterhaving spent two hours in this manner, he left him, if not entirelyconsoled, at least sufficiently recovered to resume his work.

  The following days Francisco repainted his unfortunate figure, butstill without success; he effaced it, recommenced, again effaced it,and at last succeeded in completing it; but in a manner so far inferiorto the other parts of the composition, that it formed a blemish whichdestroyed the general effect. Such was the opinion of his companions,when, according to the rule established among them, they visited eachother to judge of the respective merits of their productions. They hadstill four days to remain at work, and the pictures were not completelyfinished, but it was easy to judge which would obtain the prize; andJose was regarded as the conqueror, provided he completed the figure ofAricia as he had done the group of Hippolytus and his horses. Next tohis, came Francisco's picture, then Rivol's, the others were very farfrom the mark, and need, therefore, cause them no anxiety.

  Francisco, deprived of the last ray of hope by the decision of hiscompanions, as well as by that of his own judgment, shut himself up inhis cell, and would not allow Jose to enter, though he entreated foradmittance. He gave no reply to these friendly solicitations, and theintensity of his annoyance had rendered him so unjust, that to avoidseeing Jose, who lay crouched upon the narrow ledge of the window, hetook a large piece of linen, which served him for a blind, and fastenedit before the window. Jose listened to him for some time pacing up anddown and groaning with despair; but seeing that his perseverance wasuseless and importunate he retired, deeply grieved at his distress.

  He passed a sleepless night, and the next morning no sooner had hereached his own cell than he ran to Francisco's; but he was not there,his picture still rested upon the easel, and for a moment Jose thoughtof retouching the figure of Aricia. But this would have been apalpable fraud, and his honour revolted from its commission. Francisco,moreover, would never have consented to triumph by such disgracefulmeans. Jose, therefore, laid down the brush which he had taken up, andwith a heavy heart returned to his own cell.

  Whilst painting the figure which had proved so fatal to poor Francisco,he vainly sought some method of serving him, and his tender friendshipmade him almost desire that his Aricia might not be better than hiscompanion's. He worked with so little care, that, had any one else beenin the case, his wishes would have been accomplished; but, as it oftenhappens with artists, the very thing that he took the least pains withturned out the best; and, to make use of a familiar expression, thisfigure came so happily, that even an experienced painter would not havebeen ashamed to own it.

  With a mind absorbed in reflection, Jose painted on almost withoutheeding what he did, and it was not until he rose up, when all wascompleted, that he perceived that the last touches seemed to have beengiven by the hand of a master, rather than by that of a pupil. Hisfirst feeling was one of intense joy, but it was soon overshadowed bythe thought of Francisco. He felt that the prize was his, but soon oneof those noble inspirations which elevated minds alone receive in theirhappiest moments, presented itself to his imagination, and showed himthat the safety of his friend depended solely upon him.

  By one of the old rules of the professors, the pupil who presented hispicture with a figure completely erased, or otherwise defaced, was onthis account excluded from the competition; his picture was exhibitedwith the others, but was not taken into account in the awarding of theprizes, even though it were a masterpiece in comparison with the rest.This rule, which it was found rarely necessary to apply, was unknownto most of the students. Jose had become informed of it during hisresidence at M. Barbe's, but he was quite sure that Francisco knewnothing about it. His friend's picture was the best, after his own;and by having the courage to destroy the figure of Aricia, which alonewould have ensured the prize to a work of less merit, Francisco wouldremain without a rival.

  At first Jose seized upon this idea with all the warmth of generousaffection, but, on raising his eyes to his work, he began to thinkthe sacrifice beyond his strength. Pacing his cell with agitation, hethought of the honour of being crowned at the age of sixteen, of thepleasure of going to Italy, and of the advantage his studies wouldderive from the journey.

  "But," said he, turning his back upon his picture, "Francisco needs italmost as much as myself; the means of his parents are almost exhaustedby the efforts they have made for his education; his mother's healthrequires a warmer climate; if Francisco gains the prize his family willfollow him,..." and Jose again approached his easel.

  "Francisco is nearly twenty," he continued; "he has already obtained asecond prize, and thus cannot have it again; his age will soon excludehim from the competition, while I have still two or three years beforeme; moreover, he spoke to me of a vague hope which he entertained of ahappy marriage, to which his want of fortune might one day be the onlyobstacle. If a brilliant success were to overcome this obstacle? If thehappiness of his future life depended upon what I am about to do?..."Jose trembled, opened a box, took out his palette knife, and approachedthe head of the charming Aricia--but again he paused.

  "If I were only to injure it a little," he thought, "alas! it wouldstill be better than my poor friend's!"... and he cast a look ofapprobation upon the canvas. But soon a thought presented itself, whichdispelled his irresolution, and strengthened his wavering heroism. Herecalled that painful moment when, despised, falsely accused, onthe point of being driven from the house by Barbe, and without hopeof justification, Francisco did not fear to own the truth, and tore-establish, at his own cost, the honour of the poor little Savoyard.The honourable career which was now before him commenced from thatmoment; all that he was, all that he hoped to be, sprang, in the firstinstance, from Francisco's generous confession.... Jose no longerhesitated, he resumed his knife, and with a firm hand so erased thefigure that nothing but the sketch remained--and thus nobly repaid thedebt of friendship formerly contracted to his young companion.

  Jose erasing his Figure of Aricia, p. 301.]

  Satisfied with himself, and more calm after this trial of strength--anact of high virtue in a young man of sixteen--Jose gave the lasttouches to the other parts of his picture, and so cleverly managed theerasure, that nothing more could be inferred from it, than one of thosemovements of irritability by no means uncommon among students. He kepthis secret until the day previous to the one on which the pictures wereto be removed. He then called upon Francisco at his father's, and toldhim that his figure of Aricia was unfinished, and indeed in a greatmeasure effaced, and that there was not time to repaint it. Francisco,recovered from his unjust displeasure, grieved for and blamed hisfriend; but, being ignorant of
the rule of exclusion, he assured himthat the prize would still be his, and Jose did not attempt to removehis impression.

  But Jose had still severe trials to encounter: he foresaw the grief ofDame Robert, Gabri's disappointment, and finally a whole year's workbefore he could again reach the desired goal, which he had so nearlyattained; but the most painful moment was past, and he awaited that inwhich Francisco should be triumphant, as the only compensation worthyof him.

  The exhibition of pictures was held, as usual, in a small room on thebasement floor, now appropriated to another use. The artistic crowdarrived, and was constantly renewed during three entire days; and theyoung students, mingling with it, heard alike the censure and praiseunreservedly bestowed, and often even with the knowledge that theyoung authors of the works were present. The universal opinion wasin favour of the pictures of Jose and Francisco; but the spectatorswere constantly heard to exclaim, "A figure erased! what a pity! whatmadness!"

  At length, on the fourth day, after a private conference, theprofessors summoned before them the trembling candidates, and Jose'ssacrifice did not prove unavailing. He heard Francisco Enguehardproclaimed for the first prize, Rivol for the second, and he scarcelyheard the honourable mention made of himself, notwithstanding the fatalfigure which had excluded him from the competition.

  Francisco, surprised and bewildered at such unexpected happiness,scarcely knew what he was about; he did not hear the felicitations ofhis companions, but allowed himself to be led away by Jose, who madehim run until he reached his father's house.

  "He has gained the prize!" cried Jose, at the foot of the stairs,"Francisco has gained the prize!" and seeing his friend in the armsof his parents, who wept while they blessed him, this noble youth wasrewarded by a pleasure more intense and more elevated than any whichhis own triumph could have afforded him.

  Leaving Francisco in the arms of his happy mother, who was never wearyof looking at him, and who even thought him handsomer, now that thelaurel decked his brow, Jose bent his steps homeward, and perceived inthe distance Dame Robert and Gabri anxiously awaiting his return.

  "He walks rapidly," said Dame Robert; "so much the better, he bears usgood news."--"He looks happy," continued Gabri: "Oh, if he has gainedthe prize! at sixteen, too!" and already a smile of joy shone upon thecountenance of this excellent man.

  "Congratulate me, my friends," cried Jose, as he approached them; "I amhappy in my failure; Francisco has gained the prize!"

  "Francisco!" exclaimed Dame Robert, letting fall her arms, alreadyextended to embrace him; "and you? Have you gained nothing? On my wordthere must be some abominable trickery in the affair."

  "No," replied Jose smiling, "but be comforted, my good mother, I amneither depressed nor discouraged, and next year you shall see thelaurels on my brow."

  "But," said Gabri, in a tone of vexation, "who obtained the secondprize?"

  "Rivol," replied Jose; "and I might perhaps have had it if ..." and helooked timidly at Gabri, "if I had not erased my figure of Aricia."

  "Yes!" exclaimed Gabri, as if talking to himself, "I was sure of it, Isuspected as much at the exhibition.... Jose, Jose, embrace me, my son.Gracious Heaven! this is the first day I have passed without regrettingthe loss of my own noble boys."

  Gabri was too familiar with artistic matters not to have divined thesacrifice which Jose's friendship had induced him to make, and hisheart was capable of appreciating and rejoicing in it; but Dame Robert,who understood nothing of the matter, save that her boy was rejected,gave free vent to her dissatisfaction.

  "Indeed, M. Gabri, it is very fine to pet him up after such a failureas that. Who would have thought it? It was well worth while to be shutup for two months without uttering a syllable, to let others walk offwith the prize; still your picture was very fine, my boy, though,to tell you the truth, your female figure was too pale. I told you,however, not to spare your colours, but young people will always havetheir own way."

  Jose smiled, and hastened to tranquillize the good woman. So far asconcerned himself he succeeded without much difficulty; but she was forsome time out of humour with Gabri, whose triumphant air annoyed her,because she did not understand it. Nor did she gain any informationon the subject, for Gabri was discreet, and would not divulge Jose'ssecret; he did not even seek an explanation from the lad himself;but his marks of friendship were increased, and he more frequentlyrepeated, "My son Jose!"

  At the annual meeting of the Academy, when the students publiclyreceive the laurel crown, awarded for the merits of their works, Joseappeared more pleased than Francisco. He was restless, busying himselfwith his friend's toilet, &c.; and, placed in a corner of the roomduring the ceremony, the spectators might have imagined, from hisexcitement and his looks, when Francisco Enguehard was proclaimed, thathe was the happy father of the young laureate, were it not that hisalmost childish features precluded the supposition.

  A month after this great epoch for the two friends, they wereseparated; Francisco and his parents took the route to Italy; andJose having returned to his studies, pursued them with ardour andcontentment in thinking of the happiness which he had been the means ofsecuring to three persons.

  The year passed, and when again about to compete for the prize, Josewrote to his friend, and told him to expect him in three months fromthat date. He felt confidence in himself, and had acquired so muchpower, that notwithstanding the merits of seven competitors, all olderthan himself, his picture was unanimously declared the best. It waseven so superior to anything usually seen at these competitions, thatit was thought proper to allow the exhibition to remain open severaldays longer than usual, in order to gratify the crowd of amateurs whoflocked to see it. Dame Robert fully enjoyed Jose's triumph, and thealmost equal pleasure of relating its history to her neighbours. Gabrirubbed his hands, and bent his head while listening to the praises ofthe young artist, and the honest Barbe exultingly boasted of havingsupplied for this famous picture the finest and the best canvas in hisshop.

  Jose, overwhelmed with honours, and full of joy, set out on his wayto Rome, where he found Francisco, who had still four years remainingof the five granted by the government. Monsieur and Madame Enguehardreceived Jose as a second son; he lived in the same house with them,and enjoyed, in all its fulness, the delights of a life devoted tofriendship and the fine arts, in that beautiful land where these artsso naturally flourish.

  Many years have passed away since these events took place. Monsieurand Madame Barbe, grown rich and old, have retired, and given uptheir business to the excellent Gabri. A new generation of artistsand students frequents the shop, and pursues pretty nearly the samehabits as that which preceded it. But it is not in the same spot;the theatre of Jose's first exploits no longer exists. The two largeposts may still, indeed, be seen; but Barbe's house has been takendown, and in its place monkeys and learned birds, attract by theirvarious tricks, numerous spectators. Francisco Enguehard, steady andtalented, is married, as he wished, to the only daughter of a richantiquary, who desired to have for a son-in-law, a man of genius.Dame Robert has given up her business to her eldest son, and restsher fingers, if not her tongue, for she is never weary of relating toany one who will listen to her, how that Jose was a poor orphan, howshe took him and put him to sleep on her counter, &c., &c. Philip, aworthy fellow, and a passable tailor, is married and settled, as hesays, in his wife's native province, that is to say in the Marais. Thepoor Angevin, still a bad painter, notwithstanding all his efforts andperseverance, has returned to Angers. There, at least, he has talent,and directs in his turn the same school which sent him to Paris. Hewho was called poor Jose is now one of our most distinguished artists.He possesses a respectable fortune, acquired by his talents, and,what is far more valuable to him, the universal esteem granted to themost noble character and the most irreproachable conduct. Faithfulalike to delicacy and friendship, Francisco never knew the sacrificewhich obtained for him his crown. Jose's laurels are suspended in hismagnificent studio, beside his first palette, and his shoeblack'skn
ife. He watches over Gabri, as a son over a father; listens to thelong stories of the good old Dame Robert, without the least sign ofimpatience; and, finally, though young, handsome, and sought after, healways wears clothes made by Philip, and boasting of little elegance,with shoes of the same kind from Dame Robert's shop: and this is notthe least remarkable trait in his history.