I
Preparing for Excursions
Monsieur Patissot, born in Paris, having failed in his studies at the Collège Henri IV, obtained employment in a government department through the influence of one of his aunts, who kept a cigar store where a chief clerk of the department bought his supply of tobacco. He advanced very slowly and would perhaps have died a fourth-class clerk, had it not been for the benevolent Providence that watches over us all.
When he was about fifty-two years old, he had only begun to explore, as a tourist, that region of France which lies between the fortifications of Paris and the provinces proper. The history of his promotion may be of use to a great many clerks, just as the description of his outings may help a number of Parisians to plan their own trips, thus being able to avoid certain mishaps which befell him.
In 1854, M. Patissot was making only eighteen hundred francs a year. His peculiar disposition rendered him unpopular with his superiors, who let him linger in an eternal and hopeless expectation of the clerk’s ideal, an increase of salary.
Though he worked conscientiously, he did not know how to push, being, he said, too proud to do it. His pride consisted in refusing to bow and scrape before his superiors, after the manner of some of his fellow-workers whom he declined to name. He used to add that his bluntness embarrassed many persons, for, like all the rest, he criticised injustice and the favoritism that was shown to outsiders, strangers to the department. But his indignant voice never passed the door of the little box in which he worked.
First as a clerk, then as a Frenchman, and finally as a man of order, he adhered from principle to all established forms of the government, having a religious reverence for power when it belonged to others than his own chiefs.
Every time he found the chance, he would stand where he could see the Emperor pass, that he might have the honor of raising his hat, and he would depart very proud at having bowed to the Chief of the State.
After repeatedly contemplating the sovereign, he followed the example of a great many of his fellow-citizens: he copied the cut of his Majesty’s beard, of his coat, his style of wearing his hair, his walk, even his mannerisms—how many men in every country seem reproductions of the reigning sovereign! Indeed, he did resemble Napoleon III slightly, but his own hair was black, so he dyed it. The likeness then was striking, and when he chanced to see in the street a man who also resembled the imperial person, he would feel jealous and eye him disdainfully!
This desire of aping some distinguished person grew to be a mania with him, and having heard an usher of the Tuileries imitate the Emperor’s speech, he, too, gradually adopted the intonation and studied slowness of his Majesty’s voice.
He became so identified with his model that they could easily have been mistaken for each other; many persons in the department, even high officials, began to notice the likeness, and regarded it as unseemly and even vulgar. They spoke of it to the minister, who summoned the clerk before him. But when he laid eyes on the Emperor’s counterpart he burst out laughing and repeated several times: “This is funny, really, very funny!” His words were noised around, and the following day Patissot’s immediate chief proposed his subordinate for an increase in salary of three hundred francs, which was immediately granted. From that time, he was promoted regularly, thanks to his simian faculty of imitation. His chiefs even went so far as to imagine that some high honor would come to him one day, and addressed him with deference.
But when the Republic was proclaimed it brought disaster. He felt absolutely crushed and lost his head; he stopped dyeing his hair, shaved off his imperial and had his hair cropped close, thus acquiring an inoffensive and benevolent expression that was most uncompromising.
Then his chiefs sought revenge for the long time he had imposed on them, and, having become Republicans through the instinct of self-preservation, they persecuted him and delayed his promotion. He, too, changed his political faith, but as the Republic was not a living being to whom one might bear a likeness and as its presidents followed one another in rapid succession, he found himself in a predicament, and felt thwarted in his instinct of imitation, because his attempt to copy his latest ideal, M. Thiers, had utterly failed. His peculiar fancy, however, led him to seek continually a new manifestation. He reflected long and earnestly, and one morning appeared at the office with a new hat, the right side of which was decorated with a tiny tricolor rosette. His colleagues were astonished and laughed over it for days. But the gravity of his bearing finally awed them, and again his chiefs felt worried. What mystery lay behind this rosette? Was it only a manifestation of patriotism, the confirmation of his adherence to the Republic, or was it the secret sign of some powerful association?
As he wore it so persistently, his colleagues thought he must have some occult and powerful protection. They decided that at all events it was wise to be on guard, especially as the unruffled calmness with which he received their pleasantries increased their apprehensions. They treated him with great regard, and thus his sham courage saved him, for on the first day of January, 1880, he was appointed head-clerk.
His whole life had been spent indoors. He had remained single for love of tranquillity, as he hated noise and motion. He spent his Sundays reading tales of adventure and ruling blotters, which he used to present to his colleagues. In his whole life he had taken but three vacations of a week each, in order to move to new quarters. Once in a while, on a holiday, he would take an excursion-train to Havre or to Dieppe, to expand and elevate his soul by contemplation of the ocean.
He was full of that common sense which borders on stupidity. For a long time he had been living quietly and economically, temperate out of prudence, continent by temperament, when suddenly he was seized with a sickening apprehension. One evening in the street he had an attack of dizziness that made him fear a stroke of apoplexy. He betook himself to a doctor, and received for five francs the following diagnosis:
“Mr. Patissot, fifty-two years old, a clerk, single. Full-blooded temperament, threatened with apoplexy. Appications of cold water, a moderate diet, plenty of exercise.
Patissot almost collapsed, and during the whole of the following month he worked in his office with a wet towel wrapped around his head like a turban, from which drops of water fell frequently on his work, compelling him to begin it all over again. Every little while he would read over the prescription in the hope of discovering some hidden meaning, and tried to fix upon the kind of exercise that would insure him against apoplexy.
He consulted his friends, to whom he showed the fatal paper. One of them suggested boxing. He at once hunted up an instructor, and received the very first day an uppercut which disgusted him forever with this healthful form of exercise. Fencing stiffened him so that he could not sleep for two nights, and the exertion of singlestick almost killed him. Suddenly he had an inspiration. It was to take long walks on Sundays in the suburbs of Paris and in those parts of the city that were unknown to him.
The thought of the means of procuring a proper outfit for these trips filled his mind during a whole week. And on Sunday, the last day of May, he began his preparations. After reading all the queer advertisements that are distributed in the streets by a lot of poor, half-blind, or limping creatures, he went to various shops just to look around, intending to purchase some time later. He first entered a so-called American shoe-shop and asked to see some thick walking shoes. The clerk brought out some contrivances that looked like ironclad battleships, bristling all over with nails, and explained that they were manufactured from the hide of the Rocky Mountain bisons. He was so carried away with them that he would gladly have bought two pairs. But one sufficed and he laid down the money and departed, carrying the bundle under his arm, which grew lame from the exertion.
He bought a pair of corduroy trousers such as carpenters wear, and also heavy linen gaiters that reached to his knees. He still needed a knapsack in which to carry his provisions, a field glass to reconnoiter distant villages perched on the slope of the hills, and an ordnance map for reference, so that he would not have to question the peasants working in the fields.
Then, to be able to endure the heat, he resolved to buy a light alpaca coat, advertised by the well-known firm of Raminau, at the bargain price of six francs fifty.
He went to the shop, and a tall young man with rosy fingernails, bushy hair, and a pleasant smile, showed him the desired garment. It did not conform to the statements of the advertisement. Patissot inquired hesitatingly: “Will it really wear well?”
The young man simulated perfectly the embarrassment of an honest salesman who does not wish to deceive a customer and, lowering his voice in a confidential manner, he said: “Dear me! Monsieur, you must understand that for six francs and a half we are unable to furnish an article like this, for instance,” and he held up a coat very much better than the other.
After looking it over, Patissot asked the price: Twelve francs fifty. It was a temptation. But before making up his mind, he again questioned the clerk, who was watching him narrowly: “Then you guarantee this one? Is it really good?” “Yes, it’s quite good, but of course it mustn’t get wet! If you want good quality you have it right here, but, there are coats and coats. It is first-rate for the price. Twelve francs fifty, of course, is very little. Naturally, a coat for twenty-five francs would be much better. For this amount you get a very superior article, just as strong as cloth and more durable. After a wetting, a little pressing will make it come out like new; it never fades and is warmer yet lighter than cloth.” And he held up the goods, crumpling, shaking, and stretching it, to show its excellent quality. He spoke convincingly, dispelling the customer’s doubts with word and gesture. Patissot bought the coat, and the pleasant salesman tied the bundle, still lauding the value of the acquisition. When the package was paid for he suddenly stopped talking, and with a superior smile, bowing pleasantly while holding the door, he watched his customer depart, Monsieur Patissot, laden with bundles, trying in vain to raise his hat.
At home Patissot studied his map and tried on his ironclad boots which felt as heavy as skates. He slipped and fell, and vowed he would be more careful in the future. Then he laid out his purchases on a chair and contemplated them a long while, finally retiring to his bed, pondering: “How strange I never thought of taking outings before!”