Against the Grain | Page 2

him for a
moment with a sad smile--and that was all. The moment after she
would again become absorbed in the artificial night with which the
heavily curtained windows enshrouded the room.
The servants were old and dull. Left to himself, the boy delved into
books on rainy days and roamed about the countryside on pleasant
afternoons.
It was his supreme delight to wander down the little valley to Jutigny, a
village planted at the foot of the hills, a tiny heap of cottages capped
with thatch strewn with tufts of sengreen and clumps of moss. In the
open fields, under the shadow of high ricks, he would lie, listening to
the hollow splashing of the mills and inhaling the fresh breeze from

Voulzie. Sometimes he went as far as the peat-bogs, to the green and
black hamlet of Longueville, or climbed wind-swept hillsides affording
magnificent views. There, below to one side, as far as the eye could
reach, lay the Seine valley, blending in the distance with the blue sky;
high up, near the horizon, on the other side, rose the churches and
tower of Provins which seemed to tremble in the golden dust of the air.
Immersed in solitude, he would dream or read far into the night. By
protracted contemplation of the same thoughts, his mind grew sharp,
his vague, undeveloped ideas took on form. After each vacation, Jean
returned to his masters more reflective and headstrong. These changes
did not escape them. Subtle and observant, accustomed by their
profession to plumb souls to their depths, they were fully aware of his
unresponsiveness to their teachings. They knew that this student would
never contribute to the glory of their order, and as his family was rich
and apparently careless of his future, they soon renounced the idea of
having him take up any of the professions their school offered.
Although he willingly discussed with them those theological doctrines
which intrigued his fancy by their subtleties and hair-splittings, they
did not even think of training him for the religious orders, since, in
spite of their efforts, his faith remained languid. As a last resort,
through prudence and fear of the harm he might effect, they permitted
him to pursue whatever studies pleased him and to neglect the others,
being loath to antagonize this bold and independent spirit by the
quibblings of the lay school assistants.
Thus he lived in perfect contentment, scarcely feeling the parental yoke
of the priests. He continued his Latin and French studies when the
whim seized him and, although theology did not figure in his schedule,
he finished his apprenticeship in this science, begun at the Chateau de
Lourps, in the library bequeathed by his grand-uncle, Dom Prosper, the
old prior of the regular canons of Saint-Ruf.
But soon the time came when he must quit the Jesuit institution. He
attained his majority and became master of his fortune. The Comte de
Montchevrel, his cousin and guardian, placed in his hands the title to
his wealth. There was no intimacy between them, for there was no

possible point of contact between these two men, the one young, the
other old. Impelled by curiosity, idleness or politeness, Des Esseintes
sometimes visited the Montchevrel family and spent some dull
evenings in their Rue de la Chaise mansion where the ladies, old as
antiquity itself, would gossip of quarterings of the noble arms, heraldic
moons and anachronistic ceremonies.
The men, gathered around whist tables, proved even more shallow and
insignificant than the dowagers; these descendants of ancient,
courageous knights, these last branches of feudal races, appeared to
Des Esseintes as catarrhal, crazy, old men repeating inanities and
time-worn phrases. A fleur de lis seemed the sole imprint on the soft
pap of their brains.
The youth felt an unutterable pity for these mummies buried in their
elaborate hypogeums of wainscoting and grotto work, for these tedious
triflers whose eyes were forever turned towards a hazy Canaan, an
imaginary Palestine.
After a few visits with such relatives, he resolved never again to set
foot in their homes, regardless of invitations or reproaches.
Then he began to seek out the young men of his own age and set.
One group, educated like himself in religious institutions, preserved the
special marks of this training. They attended religious services,
received the sacrament on Easter, frequented the Catholic circles and
concealed as criminal their amorous escapades. For the most part, they
were unintelligent, acquiescent fops, stupid bores who had tried the
patience of their professors. Yet these professors were pleased to have
bestowed such docile, pious creatures upon society.
The other group, educated in the state colleges or in the lycees, were
less hypocritical and much more courageous, but they were neither
more interesting nor less bigoted. Gay young men dazzled by operettas
and