France -- Politics and government -- 19th century -- Fiction; French fiction -- Translations into English
BUREAUCRACY
By Honore De Balzac
Translated By Katharine Prescott Wormeley
DEDICATION
To the Comtesse Seraphina San Severino, with the respectful
homage of sincere and deep admiration
De Balzac
BUREAUCRACY
CHAPTER I. THE RABOURDIN HOUSEHOLD
In Paris, where men of thought and study bear a certain likeness to one
another, living as they do in a common centre, you must have met with
several resembling Monsieur Rabourdin, whose acquaintance we are about
to make at a moment when he is head of a bureau in one of our most
important ministries. At this period he was forty years old, with gray
hair of so pleasing a shade that women might at a pinch fall in love
with it for it softened a somewhat melancholy countenance, blue eyes
full of fire, a skin that was still fair, though rather ruddy and
touched here and there with strong red marks; a forehead and nose a la
Louis XV., a serious mouth, a tall figure, thin, or perhaps wasted, like
that of a man just recovering from illness, and finally, a bearing that
was midway between the indolence of a mere idler and the thoughtfulness
of a busy man. If this portrait serves to depict his character, a sketch
of this man’s dress will bring it still further into relief. Rabourdin
wore habitually a blue surcoat, a white cravat, a waistcoat crossed a la
Robespierre, black trousers without straps, gray silk stockings and low
shoes. Well-shaved, and with his stomach warmed by a cup of coffee, he
left home at eight in the morning with the regularity of clock-work,
always passing along the same streets on his way to the ministry: so
neat was he, so formal, so starched that he might have been taken for an
Englishman on the road to his embassy.
From these general signs you will readily discern a family man,
harassed by vexations in his own household, worried by annoyances at the
ministry, yet philosopher enough to take life as he found it; an honest
man, loving his country and serving it, not concealing from himself the
obstacles in the way of those who seek to do right; prudent, because he
knew men; exquisitely courteous with women, of whom he asked nothing,--a
man full of acquirements, affable with his inferiors, holding his equals
at great distance, and dignified towards his superiors. At the epoch of
which we write, you would have noticed in him the coldly resigned air of
one who has buried the illusions of his youth and renounced every secret
ambition; you would have recognized a discouraged, but not disgusted
man, one who still clings to his first projects,--more perhaps to
employ his faculties than in the hope of a doubtful success. He was not
decorated with any order, and always accused himself of weakness
for having worn that of the Fleur-de-lis in the early days of the
Restoration.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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