Bildungsromans; France -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Villages -- France -- Fiction
To take a parallel from an earlier age, the modesty and integrity which
often gave an air of nobility to the face of our old servant having
spread also to the garments which, as a woman reserved but not humbled,
who knew how to hold her own and to keep her place, she had put on for
the journey so as to be fit to be seen in our company without at the
same time seeming or wishing to make herself conspicuous,--Françoise in
the cherry-coloured cloth, now faded, of her cloak, and the discreet nap
of her fur collar, brought to mind one of those miniatures of Anne of
Brittany painted in Books of Hours by an old master, in which everything
is so exactly in the right place, the sense of the whole is so evenly
distributed throughout the parts that the rich and obsolete singularity
of the costume expresses the same pious gravity as the eyes, lips and
hands.
Of thought, in relation to Françoise, one could hardly speak. She knew
nothing, in that absolute sense in which to know nothing means to
understand nothing, save the rare truths to which the heart is capable
of directly attaining. The vast world of ideas existed not for her. But
when one studied the clearness of her gaze, the lines of nose and lips,
all those signs lacking from so many people of culture in whom they
would else have signified a supreme distinction, the noble detachment of
a chosen spirit, one was disquieted, as one is by the frank, intelligent
eyes of a dog, to which, nevertheless, one knows that all our human
concepts must be alien, and was led to ask oneself whether there might
not be, among those other humble brethren, our peasant countrymen,
creatures who were, like the great ones of the earth, of simple mind, or
rather, doomed by a harsh fate to live among the simple-minded, deprived
of heavenly light, were yet more naturally, more instinctively akin to
the chosen spirits than most educated people, were, so to speak, all
members, though scattered, straying, robbed of their heritage of reason,
of the celestial family, kinsfolk, that have been lost in infancy, of
the loftiest minds to whom--as is apparent from the unmistakable light
in their eyes, although they can concentrate that light on
nothing--there has been lacking, to endow them with talent, knowledge
only.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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