THETULIP.
　　IamtheTulipfromBatavia'sshore;
　　ThethriftyFlemingformybeautyrarePaysaking'sransom,whenthatIamfair,Andtall,andstraight,andpuremypetal'score.
　　And,likesomeYolandeofthedaysofyore,MylongandamplyfoldedskirtsIwear,O'er-paintedwiththeblazonthatIbear——Gules,afessazure;purpure,fretty,or.
　　ThefingersoftheGardenerdivineHavewovenformemyvesturefairandfine,Ofthreadsofsunlightandofpurplestain;
　　Noflowersogloriousinthegardenbed,ButNature,woeisme,nofragranceshedWithinmycupofOrientporcelain.
　　"Well?"askedLucienafterapause,immeasurablylong,asitseemedtohim.
　　"Mydearfellow,"Etiennesaid,gravelysurveyingthetipsofLucien'sbootshehadbroughtthepairfromAngouleme,andwaswearingthemout."Mydearfellow,Istronglyrecommendyoutoputyourinkonyourbootstosaveblacking,andtotakeyourpensfortoothpicks,sothatwhenyoucomeawayfromFlicoteaux'syoucanswaggeralongthispicturesquealleylookingasifyouhaddined.Getasituationofanysortordescription.Runerrandsforabailiffifyouhavetheheart,beashopmanifyourbackisstrongenough,enlistifyouhappentohaveatasteformilitarymusic.Youhavethestuffofthreepoetsinyou;butbeforeyoucanreachyourpublic,youwillhavetimetodieofstarvationsixtimesover,ifyouintendtoliveontheproceedsofyourpoetry,thatis.Andfromyourtoounsophisticateddiscourse,itwouldseemtobeyourintentiontocoinmoneyoutofyourinkstand.
　　"Isaynothingastoyourverses;theyareagooddealbetterthanallthepoeticalwaresthatarecumberingthegroundinbooksellers'
　　backshopsjustnow.Elegant'nightingales'ofthatsortcostalittlemorethantheothers,becausetheyareprintedonhand-madepaper,buttheynearlyallofthemcomedownatlasttothebanksoftheSeine.
　　YoumaystudytheirrangeofnotesthereanydayifyoucaretomakeaninstructivepilgrimagealongtheQuaisfromoldJerome'sstallbythePontNotreDametothePontRoyal.Youwillfindthemallthere——
　　alltheEssaysinVerse,theInspirations,theloftyflights,thehymns,andsongs,andballads,andodes;allthenestfulshatchedduringthelastsevenyears,infact.Therelietheirmuses,thickwithdust,bespatteredbyeverypassingcab,atthemercyofeveryprofanehandthatturnsthemovertolookatthevignetteonthetitle-page.
　　"Youknownobody;youhaveaccesstononewspaper,soyourMargueriteswillremaindemurelyfoldedasyouholdthemnow.TheywillneveropenouttothesunofpublicityinfairfieldswithbroadmarginsenameledwiththefloretswhichDauriattheillustrious,thekingoftheWoodenGalleries,scatterswithalavishhandforpoetsknowntofame.IcametoParisasyoucame,poorboy,withaplentifulstockofillusions,impelledbyirrepressiblelongingsforglory——andIfoundtherealitiesofthecraft,thepracticaldifficultiesofthetrade,thehardfactsofpoverty.Inmyenthusiasmitiskeptwellundercontrolnow,myfirstebullitionofyouthfulspirits,Ididnotseethesocialmachineryatwork;soIhadtolearntoseeitbybumpingagainstthewheelsandbruisingmyselfagainsttheshafts,andchains.
　　Nowyouareabouttolearn,asIlearned,thatbetweenyouandallthesefairdreamed-ofthingsliesthestrifeofmen,andpassions,andnecessities.
　　"Willy-nilly,youmusttakepartinaterriblebattle;bookagainstbook,managainstman,partyagainstparty;makewaryoumust,andthatsystematically,oryouwillbeabandonedbyyourownparty.Andtheyaremeancontests;struggleswhichleaveyoudisenchanted,andwearied,anddepraved,andallinpurewaste;foritoftenhappensthatyouputforthallyourstrengthtowinlaurelsforamanwhomyoudespise,andmaintain,inspiteofyourself,thatsomesecond-ratewriterisagenius.
　　"Thereisaworldbehindthescenesinthetheatreofliterature.Thepublicinfrontseesunexpectedorwell-deservedsuccess,andapplauds;thepublicdoesNOTseethepreparations,uglyastheyalwaysare,thepaintedsupers,theclaqueurshiredtoapplaud,thestagecarpenters,andallthatliesbehindthescenes.Youarestillamongtheaudience.Abdicate,thereisstilltime,beforeyousetyourfootontheloweststepofthethroneforwhichsomanyambitiousspiritsarecontending,anddonotsellyourhonor,asIdo,foralivelihood."Etienne'seyesfilledwithtearsashespoke.
　　"DoyouknowhowImakealiving?"hecontinuedpassionately."Thelittlestockofmoneytheygavemeathomewassooneatenup.ApieceofminewasacceptedattheTheatre-FrancaisjustasIcametoanendofit.AttheTheatre-Francaistheinfluenceofafirstgentlemanofthebedchamber,orofaprinceoftheblood,wouldnotbeenoughtosecureaturnoffavor;theactorsonlymakeconcessionstothosewhothreatentheirself-love.Ifitisinyourpowertospreadareportthatthejeunepremierhastheasthma,theleadingladyafistulawhereyouplease,andthesoubrettehasfoulbreath,thenyourpiecewouldbeplayedto-morrow.Idonotknowwhetherintwoyears'time,I
　　whospeaktoyounow,shallbeinapositiontoexercisesuchpower.
　　Youneedsomanytobackyou.AndwhereandhowamItogainmybreadmeanwhile?
　　"Itriedlotsofthings;Iwroteanovel,anonymously;oldDoguereaugavemetwohundredfrancsforit,andhedidnotmakeverymuchoutofithimself.Thenitgrewplaintomethatjournalismalonecouldgivemealiving.Thenextthingwastofindmywayintothoseshops.
　　IwillnottellyoualltheadvancesImade,norhowoftenIbeggedinvain.IwillsaynothingofthesixmonthsIspentasextrahandonapaper,andwastoldthatIscaredsubscribersaway,whenasafactI
　　attractedthem.PassovertheinsultsIputupwith.AtthismomentI
　　amdoingtheplaysattheBoulevardtheatres,almostgratis,forapaperbelongingtoFinot,thatstoutyoungfellowwhobreakfaststwoorthreetimesamonth,evennow,attheCafeVoltairebutyoudon'tgothere.Ilivebysellingticketsthatmanagersgivemetobribeagoodwordinthepaper,andreviewers'copiesofbooks.Inshort,Finotoncesatisfied,Iamallowedtowriteforandagainstvariouscommercialarticles,andItrafficintributepaidinkindbyvarioustradesmen.AfacetiousnoticeofaCarminativeToiletLotion,PatedesSultanes,CephalicOil,orBrazilianMixturebringsmeintwentyorthirtyfrancs.
　　"Iamobligedtodunthepublisherswhentheydon'tsendinasufficientnumberofreviewers'copies;Finot,aseditor,appropriatestwoandsellsthem,andImusthavetwotosell.Ifabookofcapitalimportancecomesout,andthepublisherisstingywithcopies,hislifeismadeaburdentohim.Thecraftisvile,butIlivebyit,andsodoscoresofothers.Donotimaginethatthingsareanybetterinpubliclife.Thereiscorruptioneverywhereinbothregions;everymaniscorruptorcorruptsothers.Ifthereisanypublishingenterprisesomewhatlargerthanusualafoot,thetradewillpaymesomethingtobuyneutrality.Theamountofmyincomevaries,therefore,directlywiththeprospectuses.Whenprospectusesbreakoutlikearash,moneypoursintomypockets;Istandtreatallround.Whentradeisdull,I
　　dineatFlicoteaux's.
　　"Actresseswillpayyoulikewiseforpraise,butthewiseramongthempayforcriticism.Tobepassedoverinsilenceiswhattheydreadthemost;andtheverybestthingofall,fromtheirpointofview,iscriticismwhichdrawsdownareply;itisfarmoreeffectualthanbaldpraise,forgottenassoonasread,anditcostsmoreinconsequence.
　　Celebrity,mydearfellow,isbaseduponcontroversy.Iamahiredbravo;Iplymytradeamongideasandreputations,commercial,literary,anddramatic;Imakesomefiftycrownsamonth;Icansellanovelforfivehundredfrancs;andIambeginningtobelookeduponasamantobefeared.Someday,insteadoflivingwithFlorineattheexpenseofadruggistwhogiveshimselftheairsofalord,Ishallbeinahouseofmyown;Ishallbeonthestaffofaleadingnewspaper,Ishallhaveafeuilleton;andonthatday,mydearfellow,Florinewillbecomeagreatactress.Asforme,IamnotsurewhatIshallbewhenthattimecomes,aministeroranhonestman——allthingsarestillpossible."
　　Heraisedhishumiliatedhead,andlookedoutatthegreenleaves,withanexpressionofdespairingself-condemnationdreadfultosee.
　　"AndIhadagreattragedyaccepted!"hewenton."Andamongmypapersthereisapoem,whichwilldie.AndIwasagoodfellow,andmyheartwasclean!Iusedtodreamloftydreamsofloveforgreatladies,queensinthegreatworld;and——mymistressisanactressatthePanorama-Dramatique.Andlastly,ifabooksellerdeclinestosendacopyofabooktomypaper,Iwillrundownworkwhichisgood,asI
　　know."
　　Lucienwasmovedtotears,andhegraspedEtienne'shandinhis.Thejournalistrosetohisfeet,andthepairwentupanddownthebroadAvenuedel'Observatoire,asiftheirlungscravedamplerbreathingspace.
　　"Outsidetheworldofletters,"EtienneLousteaucontinued,"notasinglecreaturesuspectsthateveryonewhosucceedsinthatworld——
　　whohasacertainvogue,thatistosay,orcomesintofashion,orgainsreputation,orrenown,orfame,orfavorwiththepublicforbythesenamesweknowtherungsoftheladderbywhichweclimbtothehigherheightsaboveandbeyondthem,——everyonewhocomeseventhusfaristheheroofadreadfulOdyssey.Brilliantportentsriseabovethementalhorizonthroughacombinationofathousandaccidents;
　　conditionschangesoswiftlythatnotwomenhavebeenknowntoreachsuccessbythesameroad.CanalisandNathanaretwodissimilarcases;
　　thingsneverfalloutinthesamewaytwice.Thereisd'Arthez,whoknockshimselftopieceswithwork——hewillmakeafamousnamebysomeotherchance.
　　"Thissomuchdesiredreputationisnearlyalwayscrownedprostitution.Yes;thepoorestkindofliteratureisthehaplesscreaturefreezingatthestreetcorner;second-rateliteratureisthekept-mistresspickedoutofthebrothelsofjournalism,andIamherbully;lastly,thereisluckyliterature,theflaunting,insolentcourtesanwhohasahouseofherownandpaystaxes,whoreceivesgreatlords,treatingorill-treatingthemasshepleases,whohasliveriedservantsandacarriage,andcanaffordtokeepgreedycreditorswaiting.Ah!andforyetothers,formenotsoverylongago,foryouto-day——sheisawhite-robedangelwithmany-coloredwings,bearingagreenpalmbranchintheonehand,andintheotheraflamingsword.Anangel,somethingakintothemythologicalabstractionwhichlivesatthebottomofawell,andtothepoorandhonestgirlwholivesalifeofexileintheoutskirtsofthegreatcity,earningeverypennywithanoblefortitudeandinthefulllightofvirtue,returningtoheaveninviolateofbodyandsoul;unless,indeed,shecomestolieatthelast,soiled,despoiled,polluted,andforgotten,onapauper'sbier.Asforthemenwhosebrainsareencompassedwithbronze,whoseheartsarestillwarmunderthesnowsofexperience,theyarefoundbutseldominthecountrythatliesatourfeet,"headded,pointingtothegreatcityseethinginthelateafternoonlight.
　　Avisionofd'ArthezandhisfriendsflasheduponLucien'ssight,andmadeappealtohimforamoment;butLousteau'sappallinglamentationcarriedhimaway.
　　"Theyareveryfewandfarbetweeninthatgreatfermentingvat;rareasloveinlove-making,rareasfortuneshonestlymadeinbusiness,rareasthejournalistwhosehandsareclean.TheexperienceofthefirstmanwhotoldmeallthatIamtellingyouwasthrownawayuponme,andminenodoubtwillbewasteduponyou.Itisalwaysthesameoldstoryyearafteryear;thesameeagerrushtoParisfromtheprovinces;thesame,nottosayagrowing,numberofbeardless,ambitiousboys,whoadvance,headerect,andtheheartthatPrincessTourandocteoftheMilleetunJours——eachoneofthemfaintobeherPrinceCalaf.Butneveraoneofthemreadstheriddle.Onebyonetheydrop,someintothetrenchwherefailureslie,someintothemireofjournalism,someagainintothequagmiresofthebook-trade.
　　"Theypickupaliving,thesebeggars,whatwithbiographicalnotices,penny-a-lining,andscrapsofnewsforthepapers.Theybecomebooksellers'hacksfortheclear-headeddealersinprintedpaper,whowouldsoonertaketherubbishthatgoesoffinafortnightthanamasterpiecewhichrequirestimetosell.Thelifeiscrushedoutofthegrubsbeforetheyreachthebutterflystage.Theylivebyshameanddishonor.TheyarereadytowritedownarisinggeniusortopraisehimtotheskiesatawordfromthepashaoftheConstitutionnel,theQuotidienne,ortheDebats,atasignfromapublisher,attherequestofajealouscomrade,orasnotseldomhappenssimplyforadinner.Somesurmounttheobstacles,andtheseforgetthemiseryoftheirearlydays.I,whoamtellingyouthis,havebeenputtingthebestthatisinmeintonewspaperarticlesforsixmonthspastforablackguardwhogivesthemoutashisownandhassecuredafeuilletoninanotherpaperonthestrengthofthem.Hehasnottakenmeonashiscollaborator,hehasnotgivemesomuchasafive-francpiece,butIholdoutahandtograsphiswhenwemeet;I
　　cannothelpmyself."
　　"Andwhy?"Lucien,asked,indignantly.
　　"Imaywanttoputadozenlinesintohisfeuilletonsomeday,"
　　Lousteauansweredcoolly."Inshort,mydearfellow,inliteratureyouwillnotmakemoneybyhardwork,thatisnotthesecretofsuccess;
　　thepointistoexploittheworkofsomebodyelse.Anewspaperproprietorisacontractor,wearethebricklayers.Themoremediocretheman,thebetterhischanceofgettingonamongmediocrities;hecanplaythetoad-eater,putupwithanytreatment,andflatterallthelittlebasepassionsofthesultansofliterature.ThereisHectorMerlin,whocamefromLimogesashorttimeago;heiswritingpoliticalarticlesalreadyforaRightCentredaily,andheisatworkonourlittlepaperaswell.IhaveseenaneditordrophishatandMerlinpickitup.Thefellowwascarefulnevertogiveoffence,andslippedintothethickofthefightbetweenrivalambitions.Iamsorryforyou.ItisasifIsawinyoutheselfthatIusedtobe,andsureamIthatinoneortwoyears'timeyouwillbewhatIamnow——Youwillthinkthatthereissomelurkingjealousyorpersonalmotiveinthisbittercounsel,butitispromptedbythedespairofadamnedsoulthatcanneverleavehell——Nooneventurestouttersuchthingsasthese.Youhearthegroansofanguishfromamanwoundedtotheheart,cryinglikeasecondJobfromtheashes,'Beholdmysores!'"
　　"ButwhetherIfightuponthisfieldorelsewhere,fightImust,"saidLucien.
　　"Then,besureofthis,"returnedLousteau,"ifyouhaveanythinginyou,thewarwillknownotruce,thebestchanceofsuccessliesinanemptyhead.Theausterityofyourconscience,clearasyet,willrelaxwhenyouseethatamanholdsyourfutureinhistwohands,whenawordfromsuchamanmeanslifetoyou,andhewillnotsaythatword.
　　For,believeme,themostbrutalbooksellerinthetradeisnotsoinsolent,sohard-heartedtoanewcomerasthecelebrityoftheday.
　　Thebooksellerseesapossiblelossofmoney,whilethewriterofbooksdreadsapossiblerival;thefirstshowsyouthedoor,thesecondcrushesthelifeoutofyou.Todoreallygoodwork,myboy,meansthatyouwilldrawouttheenergy,sap,andtendernessofyournatureateverydipofthepenintheink,tosetitforthfortheworldinpassionandsentimentandphrases.Yes;insteadofacting,youwillwrite;youwillsingsongsinsteadoffighting;youwillloveandhateandliveinyourbooks;andthen,afterall,whenyoushallhavereservedyourrichesforyourstyle,yourgoldandpurpleforyourcharacters,andyouyourselfarewalkingthestreetsofParisinrags,rejoicinginthat,rivalingtheStateRegister,youhaveauthorizedtheexistenceofbeingsstyledAdolphe,CorinneorClarissa,ReneorManon;whenyoushallhavespoiledyourlifeandyourdigestiontogivelifetothatcreation,thenyoushallseeitslandered,betrayed,sold,sweptawayintothebackwatersofoblivionbyjournalists,andburiedoutofsightbyyourbestfriends.Howcanyouaffordtowaituntilthedaywhenyourcreationshallriseagain,raisedfromthedead——how?when?andbywhom?Takeamagnificentbook,thepiantoofunbelief;Obermannisasolitarywandererinthedesertplacesofbooksellers'warehouses,hehasbeena'nightingale,'
　　ironicallysocalled,fromtheverybeginning:whenwillhisEastercome?Whoknows?Try,tobeginwith,tofindsomebodyboldenoughtoprinttheMarguerites;nottopayforthem,butsimplytoprintthem;
　　andyouwillseesomequeerthings."
　　Thefiercetirade,deliveredineverytoneofthepassionatefeelingwhichitexpressed,felluponLucien'sspiritlikeanavalanche,andleftasenseofglacialcold.Foronemomenthestoodsilent;then,ashefelttheterriblestimulatingcharmofdifficultybeginningtoworkuponhim,hiscourageblazedup.HegraspedLousteau'shand.
　　"Iwilltriumph!"hecriedaloud.
　　"Good!"saidtheother,"onemoreChristiangivenovertothewildbeastsinthearena——Thereisafirst-nightperformanceatthePanorama-Dramatique,mydearfellow;itdoesn'tbegintilleight,soyoucanchangeyourcoat,comeproperlydressedinfact,andcallforme.IamlivingonthefourthfloorabovetheCafeServel,RuedelaHarpe.WewillgotoDauriat'sfirstofall.Youstillmeantogoon,doyounot?Verywell,Iwillintroduceyoutooneofthekingsofthetradeto-night,andtooneortwojournalists.Wewillsupwithmymistressandseveralfriendsaftertheplay,foryoucannotcountthatdinnerasameal.Finotwillbethere,editorandproprietorofmypaper.AsMinettesaysintheVaudevilledoyouremember?,'Timeisagreatleancreature.'Well,forthelikeofus,Chanceisagreatleancreature,andmustbetempted."
　　"IshallrememberthisdayaslongasIlive,"saidLucien.
　　"Bringyourmanuscriptwithyou,andbecarefulofyourdress,notonFlorine'saccount,butforthebooksellers'benefit."
　　Thecomrade'sgood-nature,followinguponthepoet'spassionateoutcry,ashedescribedthewarofletters,movedLucienquiteasdeeplyasd'Arthez'sgraveandearnestwordsonaformeroccasion.Theprospectofenteringatonceuponthestrifewithmenwarmedhim.Inhisyouthandinexperiencehehadnosuspicionhowrealwerethemoralevilsdenouncedbythejournalist.Nordidheknowthathewasstandingatthepartingoftwodistinctways,betweentwosystems,representedbythebrotherhoodupononehand,andjournalismupontheother.Thefirstwaywaslong,honorable,andsure;thesecondbesetwithhiddendangers,aperilouspath,amongmuddychannelswhereconscienceisinevitablybespattered.ThebentofLucien'scharacterdeterminedfortheshorterway,andtheapparentlypleasanterway,andtosnatchatthequickestandpromptestmeans.Atthismomenthesawnodifferencebetweend'Arthez'snoblefriendshipandLousteau'seasycomaraderie;hisinconstantminddiscernedanewweaponinjournalism;
　　hefeltthathecouldwieldit,sohewishedtotakeit.
　　Hewasdazzledbytheoffersofthisnewfriend,whohadstruckahandinhisinaneasyway,whichcharmedLucien.Howshouldheknowthatwhileeverymaninthearmyofthepressneedsfriends,everyleaderneedsmen.Lousteau,seeingthatLucienwasresolute,enlistedhimasarecruit,andhopedtoattachhimtohimself.Therelativepositionsofthetwoweresimilar——onehopedtobecomeacorporal,theothertoentertheranks.
　　Lucienwentbackgailytohislodgings.HewasascarefuloverhistoiletasonthatformerunluckyoccasionwhenheoccupiedtheMarquised'Espard'sbox;buthehadlearnedbythistimehowtowearhisclotheswithabettergrace.Theylookedasthoughtheybelongedtohim.Heworehisbesttightly-fitting,light-coloredtrousers,andadress-coat.Hisboots,averyelegantpairadornedwithtassels,hadcosthimfortyfrancs.Histhick,fine,goldenhairwasscentedandcrimpedintobright,ripplingcurls.Self-confidenceandbeliefinhisfuturelighteduphisforehead.Hepaidcarefulattentiontohisalmostfemininehands,thefilbertnailswereaspotlesspink,andthewhitecontoursofhischinweredazzlingbycontrastwithablacksatinstock.NeverdidamorebeautifulyouthcomedownfromthehillsoftheLatinQuarter.
　　GloriousasaGreekgod,Lucientookacab,andreachedtheCafeServelataquartertoseven.Theretheportressgavehimsometolerablycomplicateddirectionsfortheascentoffourpairsofstairs.Providedwiththeseinstructions,hediscovered,notwithoutdifficulty,anopendoorattheendofalong,darkpassage,andinanothermomentmadetheacquaintanceofthetraditionalroomoftheLatinQuarter.
　　Ayoungman'spovertyfollowshimwhereverhegoes——intotheRuedelaHarpeasintotheRuedeCluny,intod'Arthez'sroom,intoChrestien'slodging;yeteverywherenolessthepovertyhasitsownpeculiarcharacteristics,duetotheidiosyncrasiesofthesufferer.Povertyinthiscaseworeasinisterlook.
　　Ashabby,cheapcarpetlayinwrinklesatthefootofacurtainlesswalnut-woodbedstead;dingycurtains,begrimedwithcigarsmokeandfumesfromasmokychimney,hunginthewindows;aCarcellamp,Florine'sgift,onthechimney-piece,hadsofarescapedthepawnbroker.Addaforlorn-lookingchestofdrawers,andatablelitteredwithpapersanddisheveledquillpens,andthelistoffurniturewasalmostcomplete.Allthebookshadevidentlyarrivedinthecourseofthelasttwenty-fourhours;andtherewasnotasingleobjectofanyvalueintheroom.Inonecorneryoubeheldacollectionofcrushedandflattenedcigars,coiledpocket-handkerchiefs,shirtswhichhadbeenturnedtododoubleduty,andcravatsthathadreachedathirdedition;whileasordidarrayofoldbootsstoodgapinginanotherangleoftheroomamongagedsockswornintolace.
　　Theroom,inshort,wasajournalist'sbivouac,filledwithoddsandendsofnovalue,andthemostcuriouslybareapartmentimaginable.A
　　scarlettinder-boxglowedamongapileofbooksonthenightstand.A
　　braceofpistols,aboxofcigars,andastrayrazorlayuponthemantel-shelf;apairoffoils,crossedunderawiremask,hungagainstapanel.Threechairsandacoupleofarmchairs,scarcelyfitfortheshabbiestlodging-houseinthestreet,completedtheinventory.
　　Thedirty,cheerlessroomtoldataleofarestlesslifeandawantofself-respect;someonecamehithertosleepandworkathighpressure,stayingnolongerthanhecouldhelp,longing,whileheremained,tobeoutandaway.Whatadifferencebetweenthiscynicaldisorderandd'Arthez'sneatandself-respectingpoverty!Awarningcamewiththethoughtofd'Arthez;butLucienwouldnotheedit,forEtiennemadeajokingremarktocoverthenakednessofarecklesslife.
　　"Thisismykennel;IappearinstateintheRuedeBondy,inthenewapartmentswhichourdruggisthastakenforFlorine;weholdthehouse-warmingthisevening."
　　EtienneLousteauworeblacktrousersandbeautifully-varnishedboots;
　　hiscoatwasbuttoneduptohischin;heprobablymeanttochangehislinenatFlorine'shouse,forhisshirtcollarwashiddenbyavelvetstock.Hewastryingtorenovatehishatbyanapplicationofthebrush.
　　"Letusgo,"saidLucien.
　　"Notyet.Iamwaitingforabooksellertobringmesomemoney;Ihavenotafarthing;therewillbeplay,perhaps,andinanycaseImusthavegloves."
　　Ashespoke,thetwonewfriendsheardaman'sstepinthepassageoutside.
　　"Thereheis,"saidLousteau."Nowyouwillsee,mydearfellow,theshapethatProvidencetakeswhenhemanifestshimselftopoets.YouaregoingtobeholdDauriat,thefashionablebookselleroftheQuaidesAugustins,thepawnbroker,themarinestoredealerofthetrade,theNormanex-greengrocer——Comealong,oldTartar!"shoutedLousteau.
　　"HereamI,"saidavoicelikeacrackedbell.
　　"Broughtthemoneywithyou?"
　　"Money?Thereisnomoneynowinthetrade,"retortedtheother,ayoungmanwhoeyedLuciencuriously.
　　"Imprimis,youowemefiftyfrancs,"Lousteaucontinued.
　　"TherearetwocopiesofTravelsinEgypthere,amarvel,sotheysay,swarmingwithwoodcuts,suretosell.FinothasbeenpaidfortworeviewsthatIamtowriteforhim.ITEMtwoworks,justout,byVictorDucange,anovelisthighlythoughtofintheMarais.ITEMacoupleofcopiesofasecondworkbyPauldeKock,abeginnerinthesamestyle.ITEMtwocopiesofYseultofDole,acharmingprovincialwork.Total,onehundredfrancs,mylittleBarbet."
　　Barbetmadeaclosesurveyofedgesandbinding.
　　"Oh!theyareinperfectcondition,"criedLousteau."TheTravelsareuncut,soisthePauldeKock,soistheDucange,soisthatotherthingonthechimney-piece,ConsiderationsonSymbolism.Iwillthrowthatin;mythswearymetothatdegreethatIwillletyouhavethethingtosparemyselfthesightoftheswarmsofmitescomingoutofit."
　　"But,"askedLucien,"howareyougoingtowriteyourreviews?"
　　Barbet,inprofoundastonishment,staredatLucien;thenhelookedatEtienneandchuckled.
　　"Onecanseethatthegentlemanhasnotthemisfortunetobealiteraryman,"saidhe.
　　"No,Barbet——no.Heisapoet,agreatpoet;heisgoingtocutoutCanalis,andBeranger,andDelavigne.Hewillgoalongwayifhedoesnotthrowhimselfintotheriver,andevensohewillgetasfarasthedrag-netsatSaint-Cloud."
　　"IfIhadanyadvicetogivethegentleman,"remarkedBarbet,"itwouldbetogiveuppoetryandtaketoprose.PoetryisnotwantedontheQuaisjustnow."
　　Barbet'sshabbyovercoatwasfastenedbyasinglebutton;hiscollarwasgreasy;hekepthishatonhisheadashespoke;heworelowshoes,anopenwaistcoatgaveglimpsesofahomelyshirtofcoarselinen.Good-naturewasnotwantingintheroundcountenance,withitstwoslitsofcovetouseyes;buttherewaslikewisethevagueuneasinesshabitualtothosewhohavemoneytospendandhearconstantapplicationsforit.Yet,toallappearance,hewasplain-dealingandeasy-natured,hisbusinessshrewdnesswassowellwaddedroundwithfat.HehadbeenanassistantuntilhetookawretchedlittleshopontheQuaidesAugustinstwoyearssince,andissuedthenceonhisroundsamongjournalists,authors,andprinters,buyingupfreecopiescheaply,makinginsuchwayssometenortwentyfrancsdaily.Now,hehadmoneysaved;heknewinstinctivelywhereeverymanwaspressed;hehadakeeneyeforbusiness.Ifanauthorwasindifficulties,hewoulddiscountabillgivenbyapublisheratfifteenortwentypercent;thenthenextdayhewouldgotothepublisher,haggleoverthepriceofsomeworkindemand,andpayhimwithhisownbillsinsteadofcash.Barbetwassomethingofascholar;hehadhadjustenougheducationtomakehimcarefultosteerclearofmodernpoetryandmodernromances.Hehadalikingforsmallspeculations,forbooksofapopularkindwhichmightbeboughtoutrightforathousandfrancsandexploitedatpleasure,suchastheChild'sHistoryofFrance,Book-keepinginTwentyLessons,andBotanyforYoungLadies.Twoorthreetimesalreadyhehadallowedagoodbooktoslipthroughhisfingers;theauthorshadcomeandgoneascoreoftimeswhilehehesitated,andcouldnotmakeuphismindtobuythemanuscript.Whenreproachedforhispusillanimity,hewaswonttoproducetheaccountofanotorioustrialtakenfromthenewspapers;itcosthimnothing,andhadbroughthimintwoorthreethousandfrancs.
　　Barbetwasthetypeofbooksellerthatgoesinfearandtrembling;
　　livesonbreadandwalnuts;rarelyputshisnametoabill;filcheslittleprofitsoninvoices;makesdeductions,andhawkshisbooksabouthimself;heavenonlyknowswheretheygo,buthesellsthemsomehow,andgetspaidforthem.Barbetwastheterrorofprinters,whocouldnottellwhattomakeofhim;hepaidcashandtookoffthediscount;henibbledattheirinvoiceswheneverhethoughtheywerepressedformoney;andwhenhehadfleecedamanonce,heneverwentbacktohim——hefearedtobecaughtinhisturn.
　　"Well,"saidLousteau,"shallwegoonwithourbusiness?"
　　"Eh!myboy,"returnedBarbetinafamiliartone;"Ihavesixthousandvolumesofstockonhandatmyplace,andpaperisnotgold,astheoldbooksellersaid.Tradeisdull."
　　"Ifyouwentintohisshop,mydearLucien,"saidEtienne,turningtohisfriend,"youwouldseeanoakcounterfromsomebankruptwinemerchant'ssale,andatallowdip,neversnuffedforfearitshouldburntooquickly,makingdarknessvisible.Bythatanomalouslightyoudescryrowsofemptyshelveswithsomedifficulty.Anurchininablueblousemountsguardovertheemptiness,andblowshisfingers,andshuffleshisfeet,andslapshischest,likeacabmanonthebox.Justlookaboutyou!therearenomorebookstherethanIhavehere.Nobodycouldguesswhatkindofshophekeeps."
　　"Hereisabillatthreemonthsforahundredfrancs,"saidBarbet,andhecouldnothelpsmilingashedrewitoutofhispocket;"Iwilltakeyouroldbooksoffyourhands.Ican'tpaycashanylonger,yousee;salesaretooslow.Ithoughtthatyouwouldbewantingme;Ihadnotapenny,andImadeabillsimplytoobligeyou,forIamnotfondofgivingmysignature."
　　"Soyouwantmythanksandesteemintothebargain,doyou?"
　　"Billsarenotmetwithsentiment,"respondedBarbet;"butIwillacceptyouresteem,allthesame."
　　"ButIwantgloves,andtheperfumerswillbebaseenoughtodeclineyourpaper,"saidLousteau."Stop,thereisasuperbengravinginthetopdrawerofthechestthere,wortheightyfrancs,proofbeforelettersandafterletterpress,forIhavewrittenaprettydrollarticleuponit.TherewassomethingtolayholdofinHippocratesrefusingthePresentsofArtaxerxes.Afineengraving,eh?Justthethingtosuitallthedoctors,whoarerefusingtheextravagantgiftsofParisiansatraps.Youwillfindtwoorthreedozennovelsunderneathit.Come,now,takethelotandgivemefortyfrancs."
　　"FORTYFRANCS!"exclaimedthebookseller,emittingacrylikethesquallofafrightenedfowl."Twentyattheverymost!AndthenImayneverseethemoneyagain,"headded.
　　"Whereareyourtwentyfrancs?"askedLousteau.
　　"Myword,Idon'tknowthatIhavethem,"saidBarbet,fumblinginhispockets."Heretheyare.Youareplunderingme;youhaveanascendencyoverme——"
　　"Come,letusbeoff,"saidLousteau,andtakingupLucien'smanuscript,hedrewalineuponitininkunderthestring.
　　"Haveyouanythingelse?"askedBarbet.
　　"Nothing,youyoungShylock.Iamgoingtoputyouinthewayofabitofverygoodbusiness,"Etiennecontinued"inwhichyoushallloseathousandcrowns,toteachyoutorobmeinthisfashion",headdedforLucien'sear.
　　"Buthowaboutyourreviews?"saidLucien,astheyrolledawaytothePalaisRoyal.
　　"Pooh!youdonotknowhowreviewsareknockedoff.AsfortheTravelsinEgypt,Ilookedintothebookhereandtherewithoutcuttingthepages,andIfoundelevenslipsingrammar.Ishallsaythatthewritermayhavemasteredthedicky-birdlanguageontheflintsthattheycall'obelisks'outthereinEgypt,buthecannotwriteinhisown,asIwillprovetohiminacolumnandahalf.Ishallsaythatinsteadofgivingusthenaturalhistoryandarchaeology,heoughttohaveinterestedhimselfinthefutureofEgypt,intheprogressofcivilization,andthebestmethodofstrengtheningthebondbetweenEgyptandFrance.FrancehaswonandlostEgypt,butshemayyetattachthecountrytoherinterestsbygainingamoralascendencyoverit.Thensomepatrioticpenny-a-lining,interlardedwithdiatribesonMarseilles,theLevantandourtrade."
　　"Butsupposethathehadtakenthatview,whatwouldyoudo?"
　　"Ohwell,Ishouldsaythatinsteadofboringuswithpolitics,heshouldhavewrittenaboutart,anddescribedthepicturesqueaspectsofthecountryandthelocalcolor.Thenthecriticbewailshimself.
　　Politicsareintrudedeverywhere;wearewearyofpolitics——politicsonallsides.Ishouldregretthosecharmingbooksoftravelthatdweltuponthedifficultiesofnavigation,thefascinationofsteeringbetweentworocks,thedelightsofcrossingtheline,andallthethingsthatthosewhoneverwilltraveloughttoknow.Minglethisapprovalwithscoffingatthetravelerswhohailtheappearanceofabirdoraflying-fishasagreatevent,whodilateuponfishing,andmaketranscriptsfromthelog.Where,youask,isthatperfectlyunintelligiblescientificinformation,fascinating,likeallthatisprofound,mysterious,andincomprehensible.Thereaderlaughs,thatisallthathewants.Asfornovels,Florineisthegreatestnovelreaderalive;shegivesmeasynopsis,andItakeheropinionandputareviewtogether.Whenanovelistboresherwith'author'sstuff,'asshecallsit,Itreattheworkrespectfully,andaskthepublisherforanothercopy,whichhesendsforthwith,delightedtohaveafavorablereview."
　　"Goodness!andwhatofcriticism,thecritic'ssacredoffice?"criedLucien,rememberingtheideasinstilledintohimbythebrotherhood.
　　"Mydearfellow,"saidLousteau,"criticismisakindofbrushwhichmustnotbeuseduponflimsystuff,oritcarriesitallawaywithit.
　　Thatisenoughofthecraft,nowlisten!Doyouseethatmark?"hecontinued,pointingtothemanuscriptoftheMarguerites."Ihaveputinkonthestringandpaper.IfDauriatreadsyourmanuscript,hecertainlycouldnottiethestringandleaveitjustasitwasbefore.
　　Soyourbookissealed,sotospeak.Thisisnotuselesstoyoufortheexperimentthatyouproposetomake.Andanotherthing:pleasetoobservethatyouarenotarrivingquitealoneandwithoutasponsorintheplace,liketheyoungsterswhomaketheroundofhalf-a-scoreofpublishersbeforetheyfindonethatwillofferthemachair."
　　Lucien'sexperienceconfirmedthetruthofthisparticular.Lousteaupaidthecabman,givinghimthreefrancs——apieceofprodigalityfollowinguponsuchimpecuniosityastonishingLucienmorethanalittle.ThenthetwofriendsenteredtheWoodenGalleries,wherefashionableliterature,asitiscalled,usedtoreigninstate.
　　PARTII
　　TheWoodenGalleriesofthePalaisRoyalusedtobeoneofthemostfamoussightsofParis.Somedescriptionofthesqualidbazarwillnotbeoutofplace;fortherearefewmenoffortywhowillnottakeaninterestinrecollectionsofastateofthingswhichwillseemincredibletoayoungergeneration.
　　Thegreatdreary,spaciousGaleried'Orleans,thatflowerlesshothouse,asyetwasnot;thespaceuponwhichitnowstandswascoveredwithbooths;or,tobemoreprecise,withsmall,woodendens,pervioustotheweather,anddimlyilluminatedonthesideofthecourtandthegardenbyborrowedlightsstyledwindowsbycourtesy,butmorelikethefilthiestarrangementsforobscuringdaylighttobefoundinlittlewineshopsinthesuburbs.
　　TheGalleries,parallelpassagesabouttwelvefeetinheight,wereformedbyatriplerowofshops.Thecentrerow,givingbackandfrontupontheGalleries,wasfilledwiththefetidatmosphereoftheplace,andderivedadubiousdaylightthroughtheinvariablydirtywindowsoftheroof;butsothrongedwerethesehives,thatrentswereexcessivelyhigh,andasmuchasathousandcrownswaspaidforaspacescarcesixfeetbyeight.Theouterrowsgaverespectivelyuponthegardenandthecourt,andwerecoveredonthatsidebyaslighttrellis-workpaintedgreen,toprotectthecrazyplasteredwallsfromcontinualfrictionwiththepassers-by.Inafewsquarefeetofearthatthebackoftheshops,strangefreaksofvegetablelifeunknowntosciencegrewamidtheproductsofvariousnolessflourishingindustries.Youbeheldarosebushcappedwithprintedpaperinsuchasortthattheflowersofrhetoricwereperfumedbythecankeredblossomsofthatill-kept,ill-smellinggarden.Handbillsandribbonstreamersofeveryhueflauntedgailyamongtheleaves;naturalflowerscompetedunsuccessfullyforanexistencewithoddsandendsofmillinery.Youdiscoveredaknotofribbonadorningagreentuft;thedahliaadmiredafarprovedonanearerviewtobeasatinrosette.
　　ThePalaisseenfromthecourtorfromthegardenwasafantasticsight,agrotesquecombinationofwallsofplasterpatchworkwhichhadoncebeenwhitewashed,ofblisteredpaint,heterogeneousplacards,andallthemostunaccountablefreaksofParisiansqualor;thegreentrelliseswereprodigiouslythedingierforconstantcontactwithaParisianpublic.So,uponeitherside,thefetid,disreputableapproachesmighthavebeentherefortheexpresspurposeofwarningawayfastidiouspeople;butfastidiousfolknomorerecoiledbeforethesehorrorsthantheprinceinthefairystoriesturnstailatsightofthedragonoroftheotherobstaclesputbetweenhimandtheprincessbythewickedfairy.
　　TherewasapassagethroughthecentreoftheGalleriesthenasnow;
　　and,asatthepresentday,youenteredthemthroughthetwoperistylesbegunbeforetheRevolution,andleftunfinishedforlackoffunds;butinplaceofthehandsomemodernarcadeleadingtotheTheatre-Francais,youpassedalonganarrow,disproportionatelyloftypassage,soill-roofedthattheraincamethroughonwetdays.Alltheroofsofthehovelsindeedwereinverybadrepair,andcoveredhereandagainwithadoublethicknessoftarpaulin.AfamoussilkmerceroncebroughtanactionagainsttheOrleansfamilyfordamagesdoneinthecourseofanighttohisstockofshawlsandstuffs,andgainedthedayandaconsiderablesum.Itwasinthislast-namedpassage,called"TheGlassGallery"todistinguishitfromtheWoodenGalleries,thatChevetlaidthefoundationsofhisfortunes.
　　Here,inthePalais,youtrodthenaturalsoilofParis,augmentedbyimportationsbroughtinuponthebootsoffootpassengers;here,atallseasons,youstumbledamonghillsandhollowsofdriedmudsweptdailybytheshopman'sbesom,andonlyaftersomepracticecouldyouwalkatyourease.Thetreacherousmud-heaps,thewindow-panesincrustedwithdepositsofdustandrain,themean-lookinghovelscoveredwithraggedplacards,thegrimyunfinishedwalls,thegeneralairofacompromisebetweenagypsycamp,theboothsofacountryfair,andthetemporarystructuresthatweinParisbuildroundaboutpublicmonumentsthatremainunbuilt;thegrotesqueaspectofthemartasawholewasinkeepingwiththeseethingtrafficofvariouskindscarriedonwithinit;forhereinthisshameless,unblushinghaunt,amidwildmirthandababeloftalk,animmenseamountofbusinesswastransactedbetweentheRevolutionof1789andtheRevolutionof1830.
　　FortwentyyearstheBoursestoodjustopposite,onthegroundfloorofthePalais.Publicopinionwasmanufactured,andreputationsmadeandruinedhere,justaspoliticalandfinancialjobswerearranged.
　　PeoplemadeappointmentstomeetintheGalleriesbeforeorafter'Change;onshowerydaysthePalaisRoyalwasoftencrowdedwithweather-boundcapitalistsandmenofbusiness.Thestructurewhichhadgrownup,nooneknewhow,aboutthispointwasstrangelyresonant,laughterwasmultiplied;iftwomenquarreled,thewholeplacerangfromoneendtotheotherwiththedispute.Inthedaytimemillinersandbooksellersenjoyedamonopolyoftheplace;towardsnightfallitwasfilledwithwomenofthetown.Heredweltpoetry,politics,andprose,newbooksandclassics,thegloriesofancientandmodernliteraturesidebysidewithpoliticalintrigueandthetricksofthebookseller'strade.Herealltheverylatestandnewestliteratureweresoldtoapublicwhichresolutelydeclinetobuyelsewhere.
　　SometimesseveralthousandcopiesofsuchandsuchapamphletbyPaul-
　　LouisCourierwouldbesoldinasingleevening;andpeoplecrowdedthithertobuyLesaventuresdelafilled'unRoi——thatfirstshotfiredbytheOrleanistsatTheCharterpromulgatedbyLouisXVIII.
　　WhenLucienmadehisfirstappearanceintheWoodenGalleries,somefewoftheshopsboastedproperfrontsandhandsomewindows,buttheseineverycaselookeduponthecourtorthegarden.Asforthecentrerow,untilthedaywhenthewholestrangecolonyperishedunderthehammerofFontainethearchitect,everyshopwasopenbackandfrontlikeaboothinacountryfair,sothatfromwithinyoucouldlookoutuponeithersidethroughgapsamongthegoodsdisplayedorthroughtheglassdoors.Asitwasobviouslyimpossibletokindleafire,thetradesmenwerefaintousecharcoalchafing-dishes,andformedasortofbrigadeforthepreventionoffiresamongthemselves;and,indeed,alittlecarelessnessmighthavesetthewholequarterblazinginfifteenminutes,fortheplank-builtrepublic,driedbytheheatofthesun,andhauntedbytooinflammablehumanmaterial,wasbedizenedwithmuslinandpaperandgauze,andventilatedattimesbyathoroughdraught.
　　Themilliners'windowswerefullofimpossiblehatsandbonnets,displayedapparentlyforadvertisementratherthanforsale,eachonaseparateironspitwithaknobatthetop.Thegalleriesweredeckedoutinallthecolorsoftherainbow.Onwhatheadswouldthosedustybonnetsendtheircareers?——forascoreofyearstheproblemhadpuzzledfrequentersofthePalais.Saleswomen,usuallyplain-featured,butvivacious,waylaidthefemininefootpassengerwithcunningimportunities,afterthefashionofmarket-women,andusingmuchthesamelanguage;ashop-girl,whomadefreeuseofhereyesandtongue,satoutsideonastoolandharanguedthepublicwith"Buyaprettybonnet,madame?——Doletmesellyousomething!"——varyingarichandpicturesquevocabularywithinflectionsofthevoice,withglances,andremarksuponthepassers-by.Booksellersandmillinerslivedontermsofmutualunderstanding.