Chapter 12

1. Usually on those occasions I had the whole college on my hands. 2. Most of them used to fall into step splendidly. 3. It was in vain I spoke to him, he refused to listen to me. 4. The poor fellow was ridiculously short, badly dressed, redolent of the gutter, and, to crown all, dreadfully bandy-legged. 5. We always had at our heels a swarm of ragamuffins turning cart-wheels behind us. 6. The little imp was smiling as if nothing were the matter. 7. The whole division began to go off at a frightful pace. 8. He was the son of a farrier, who was working himself to death for his education. 9. We have been waiting for you for more than twenty minutes. 10. I often looked at him, putting out his tongue and leaning on his pen with all his might. 11. As soon as he had finished his work, he used to go out. 12. On that day he went out as soon as he had finished his work. 13. The grotto was so low that we were obliged to go in on all fours. 14. I wonder whether I shall ever succeed in teaching him anything. 15. Do you know what has become of my letter?

XI (pp. 51—55)

1. How can you hope to find anything good at the rate of seventy-five francs a term? 2. How dreadful it is to see snares everywhere and to be always on the alert! 3. Were I to live a hundred years, I should never forget all I suffered. 4. You may accept if you like, but I do not see what you will gain by it. 5. It seems that at the last moment he has changed his mind. 6. The windows of the dining-room looked out on to the garden. 7. The head master spoke little, and in a curt, gruff voice. 8. There was not one street in the town that he did not know. 9. I have a mind to go, and I will go, come what may. 10. I had been told that his library contained more than two thousand volumes, and I had no doubt but that I should find there the book I wanted. 11. My neighbour was sitting astride a low chair, with his legs stretched out. 12. I at length succeeded in explaining as well as I could the object of my visit. 13. Mind you don’t spoil my book, or I’ll cut off your ears! 14. They might just as well have finished whilst they were at it.

XII (pp. 56—60)

1. You must redouble your efforts, or else you will never pull through. 2. When you want any books, you will only have to come and take them. 3. Tell him that he can believe me, for I have been through it all. 4. Thereupon he resumed his reading and let me go out without even looking at me. 5. I had entered without anyone suspecting my presence. 6. At last the appointed day came, and it was high time, for I could stand it no longer. 7. Stretched out in his arm-chair, he was listening to his neighbours with an absent-minded air. 8. A few bald gentlemen were mopping their heads with flame-coloured silk handkerchiefs. 9. As soon as he had finished his speech, there was a general uproar. 10. “Which way must we go?”—“Come this way.” 11. Do not allow yourself to be so easily discouraged. 12. The children had gone bird-catching with a bird-call. 13. Being quite alone, I spent nearly all my time reading. 14. As usual he answered “Thank you!” without taking his eyes off his book. 15. The little patient dreamt of it every night, he could sleep no longer for it.

XIII (pp. 61—65)

1. He lost his head, and added in a trembling voice: “I thank you for all your kindness to me.” 2. I promise you that it shall be done without fail not later than to-morrow. 3. At last, in utter despair, he made up his mind to write to them. 4. Prepare your letter beforehand and hand it over to him as soon as he arrives. 5. Nobody came on that day, or on the next either. 6. To crown our misfortunes, it soon began to snow. 7. How short the holidays have been this summer! 8. The whole house was being repaired from top to bottom. 9. Here he comes; you must mind your p’s and q’s. 10. Neither the masters nor the pupils felt in the mood for working. 11. After two whole months’ rest, the college found it difficult to resume its ordinary routine. 12. For my own part illness had made me unable to bear anything. 13. We no longer had any ammunition to fight the rioters with. 14. Sometimes, as a last resource, I called my neighbour to my aid. 15. They were all so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop. 16. It was evident that I had an awkward customer to deal with.

XIV (pp. 66—70)

1. I soon saw that I was getting involved in a nasty business. 2. You should have seen the air he put on in answering me. 3. I raised my arm as if to seize him by the coat-collar. 4. All the spectators at once clapped their hands. 5. Just fancy! the marquess brought to his senses by this slip of an usher! 6. My friend has not yet arrived, but I expect him every moment. 7. I was beginning to think that I should get off with a good fright. 8. What penalty do you think it your duty to inflict upon him? 9. The child had been confined to his bed for the last three days. 10. You do not know what sort of man you have to deal with. 11. During this fine speech we were all laughing in our sleeves. 12. I might have answered, but took good care not to. 13. When they were hard up for something more to say, they at last retired. 14. The interesting victim was made to repeat his story twenty times running. 15. It would have been much better for me to have been dismissed at once.

XV (pp. 71—75)

1. I should pity him more if he did not complain so often. 2. Although it was spring, a good deal of snow had fallen during the night 3. Even if (_do not use ‘si’_) they had utterly demolished the house I should not have noticed it. 4. I was far from suspecting that they had been in England for the last fortnight. 5. Taking everything into account, I hope I shall be able to send you something from time to time out of my savings. 6. What a beautiful town Paris is! 7. Here at any rate it is not always foggy as in Lyons. 8. I had come to that part of the letter when I suddenly heard a dull noise. 9. In the playground the children were shouting at the top of their voices. 10. Why do you not want us to mention it to them? 11. A monotonous plain stretched as far as the eye could see. 12. I was longing to be alone in my room. 13. We have not seen them yet, but they will not be long in coming. 14. I began to go up the stairs four steps at a time. 15. The new secretary was beside himself with joy.

XVI (pp. 76—80)

1. Before going in, I stopped an instant to recover my breath. 2. The head master in his dressing-gown was standing near him, with his velvet cap in his hand. 3. I did not know what it was all about, but on hearing these words I blushed for shame. 4. Turning to me, he took from the mantel-piece a little bundle of papers I had not yet noticed. 5. Instead of answering him, he hung down his head and remained silent. 6. One word might have exculpated me, but that word I did not utter. 7. I was ready to suffer anything rather than betray my friend. 8. It is half-past ten already; they must have missed the train. 9. All my courage suddenly failed me, and, without saying a word, I hurriedly went out. 10. I saw his face brighten as I spoke. 11. “Listen to this before I go,” said he in a low voice. 12. You must promise me to write to them when everything is over. 13. When I was in the army, I vowed that, if ever I came to be drummed out, I would not survive my dishonour. 14. I would rather lose my situation than be the cause of his death. 15. The very least we can do is to wait till the last moment before coming to such a decision.

XVII (pp. 81—85)

1. If the poor man happened to die, what would become of his children? 2. Did you not tell me that you would come as soon as you had finished? 3. I assure you that it is no laughing-matter. 4. The children were so glad that they could not stand still (_use the word ‘place’_). 5. You must have dropped the letter without noticing it. 6. Whatever could they be doing down there in such weather? 7. I rushed in the direction of the town, in search of my friend. 8. Considering the rate at which he was walking, he must have covered the ground in less than a quarter of an hour. 9. I was afraid that, in spite of his promise, he had already gone out. 10. Let us drink the stirrup-cup before you go. 11. I hope (_use a conjunction instead of a verb_) that you will arrive in time! 12. It was sad enough (_do not use ‘assez’_) to make one weep. 13. When I approached, they were all dying with laughter. 14. Feeling he was going to hear something extraordinary, he advanced without being seen by anybody. 15. Then it was that I learnt what cowards men can be! 16. The orator’s gestures must have been very comical, judging by the transports of the audience.

XVIII (pp. 86—90)

1. I shuddered, and my ears tingled. 2. The little girl’s mother had been dead for more than six months. 3. I could stand it no longer, and, without caring whether anyone could see me, I rushed through the garden. 4. Where was he to find the money he wanted? He felt he was done for. 5. I got up, and, with the resolute step of a man who has just come to an irrevocable decision, I went back to the station. 6. When you receive this letter your poor brother will be dead. 7. There is a good deal more I could say to you, but I have no time. 8. Tell them that he fell from the top of a cliff, or else that he was drowned whilst skating. 9. I beg your pardon for all the trouble I am giving you. 10. When you come to the bridge, apply to the first person you meet. 11. The usher walked up and down until everybody was asleep. 12. Some one was stealing slowly along under cover of the walls. 13. A moonbeam was shining full upon the big iron ring. 14. I have been doing nothing but think of it for hours. 15. Taking the old stool, he got up on it and made a slip knot.

XIX (pp. 91—95)

1. That’s a queer idea, to practise on the trapeze at this time of night! 2. Come up to my rooms; there is a fire there, and it is very comfortable. 3. My friend has been dismissed, which, by the way, is a great stroke of luck for him. 4. If you take my advice, you will start at once, without waiting till your week’s notice is up. 5. I myself will lend you the money that you wanted to borrow from that scoundrel. 6. Now not one word more! I do not want you to thank me. 7. “How comfortable I am here!” he said, opening his eyes. 8. As soon as I began to thank him, he literally turned me out of doors. 9. The boys were not yet in the playground by the time I was already working hard in my room. 10. The good man was busy counting gold coins, which he carefully put in a row in little heaps. 11. My brother has not to draw lots for six years, and who knows what may happen between now and then? 12. I am much afraid you will be a child all your life. 13. What confidence can you have in him, half mad as he is? 14. Have you not your seat to book? Make haste, or you will be late. 15. The abbé could not help casting a glance round the room, and what he saw made him shudder.

XX (pp. 96—103)

1. I really thought that they were going to seize me by the throat. 2. The two scowling faces cheered up as if by magic. 3. When they had pocketed my money, they launched out into protestations of friendship. 4. Do not allow yourself to be taken in by those compliments. 5. The more affable they showed themselves, the more they disgusted me. 6. What a pity you did not arrive in time to see them! 7. Those who are not satisfied will only have to come and tell me. 8. I looked around me for a long time, as if to carry away in my mind the image of the place I was never to see again. 9. Drawing the keys out from under my coat, I threw them down the well with all my might. 10. I should have liked to enjoy the sight a little longer, but I did not want the coach to start without me. 11. It is still too early for you to receive an answer. 12. For about twenty years he had been spending his time colouring illustrated newspapers. 13. Ah! the old fool! You should have seen with what a confident look he used to say that! 14. All these details about his uncle I only learnt afterwards. 15. As soon as I went into the house, I saw that, whatever she might say, my mother was not happy. 16. On hearing that I had a good situation, he opened his eyes wide. 17. The joy of seeing her son again had taken away the poor woman’s appetite. 18. It is said that they have barely enough to live upon. 19. If only (_do not use ‘seulement’_) I could have spoken to him unreservedly! but we were not left alone one minute. 20. The moment for his departure came without their having been able to say anything to each other.

IV. PASSAGES FOR TRANSLATION INTO FRENCH

I

When I think over my own expensive education, I can see quite clearly that the years which came between my departure from the school-room at home and the time I got into the top form at school were elaborately wasted. My time was mainly taken up with grammar, endless Latin proses, and verses that were not poetry; none of which exercises did me the slightest good. I forgot the grammar as soon as I conveniently could; I could never do Latin prose till I had read great chunks of Latin authors, or verses till I had studied the poets; and these accomplishments came to me by imitation and not by rules. Mean-while my imagination was simply starved. And yet there is so much in English literature to stimulate the imagination of children!—I know that from my pre-school experience; and I believe nearly all children have some imagination to start with, before it is smothered under the verbs in -μι. Fortunately I was not a conscientious or hard-working boy, and so I escaped the mental paralysis which overtook some of my worthier companions.—From G. F. BRADLY’S _Dick_.

II

Daudet is naturally an optimist, and that spontaneous optimism is his distinctive mark among all the novelists of the contemporary school. There are characters in his works quite as depraved as those in Flaubert and in Zola. But from the way in which he describes them one feels that he despises their ignominy, and that he is indignant at their baseness. Now the pessimist, in whose eyes baseness and ignominy are the very essence of man, is no longer capable of indignation or contempt. Nearly always Daudet’s books present to us, if only incidentally, some favourite character which does credit to humanity. Out-and-out pessimists accuse him of distorting human nature by attributing to it imaginary graces and virtues: but does not their unbending pessimism distort it in another direction by showing to us, under the pretext of being truthful, only its meannesses and its horrors?—From PELLISSIER, _Le Mouvement littéraire au XIXe siècle_.

III

Doctor Strong’s was an excellent school: as different from Mr. Creakle’s as good is from evil. It was very gravely and decorously ordered, and on a sound system with an appeal, in everything, to the honour and good faith of the boys, and an avowed intention to rely on their possession of those qualities, unless they proved unworthy of it, which worked wonders. We all felt we had a part in the management of the place, and in sustaining its character and dignity. Hence we soon became warmly attached to it, and learned with a good will, desiring to do it credit. We had noble games out of hours, and plenty of liberty; but even then, as I remember, we were well spoken of in the town, and rarely did any disgrace, by our appearance or manner, to the reputation of Doctor Strong and Doctor Strong’s boys. The Doctor himself was the idol of the whole school; and it must have been a badly composed school if he had been anything else, for he was the kindest of men; with a simple faith in him that might have touched the stone hearts of the very urns upon the wall. —From DICKENS’S _David Copperfield_.

IV

His style, created from moment to moment, subordinates the form of the language to the need of expressing the immediate sensation in its original vividness. He multiplies ellipses, anastrophes, words unexpectedly connected; he takes from every vocabulary its most expressive terms; he models himself upon the very appearance of things as they are; he knows no other rhythm than that of successive impressions. He is perpetually on the move. His agility occasionally seems a little feverish. We feel some anxiety; we are afraid that the sentence may not find its balance. A few lines from his works can be recognized at a glance, for he has only had clumsy imitators, his style being, moreover, in the language of Montaigne, of one substance with the author, being the author himself. And yet one could hardly say that this style breaks with tradition. He stops short just at the point at which his idiosyncrasies would degenerate into faults.—From PETIT DE JULLEVILLE, _Histoire de la littérature française_, vol. viii.

V

But the pupils — the young noblemen! Pale and haggard faces, lank and bony figures, children with countenances of old men, deformities with irons upon their limbs, boys of stunted growth, and others whose long meagre legs would hardly bear the stooping bodies, all crowded on the view together. There was every ugliness or distortion that told of unnatural aversion conceived by parents for their offspring, or of young lives which, from the earliest dawn of infancy, had been one horrible endurance of cruelty and neglect. There were little faces which should have been handsome, darkened with the scowl of sullen, dogged suffering. There was childhood with the light of its eye quenched, its beauty gone, and its helplessness alone remaining; there were vicious-faced boys, brooding, with leaden eyes, like malefactors in jail; and there were young creatures on whom the sins of their frail parents had descended, weeping even for the mercenary nurses they had known, and lonesome even in their loneliness. With every kindly sympathy and affection blasted in its birth, with every young and healthy feeling flogged and starved down, with every revengeful passion that can fester in swollen hearts, eating its evil way to their core in silence, what an incipient Hell was breeding here!—From DICKENS’S _Nicholas Nickleby_.

VI

It is not only his nerves which are sensitive, it is also his heart, and the keenness of his sensations is equalled by that of his sympathies. He is interested in his characters, and it is by loving them that he makes us love them. If the figures he paints give us a life-like impression, it is because they lived not only in his imagination but also in his heart.… Daudet can feel in his heart that love which Dickens felt towards those who are ill-favoured or poor. His favourite heroes are especially those who are sensitive, and who are made wretched by their sensitiveness. In order to create _Jack_ he left the _Nabab_, which he had already begun, and wrote in less than a year that book which is at the same time tender and cruel, but in which cruelty is only another form of tenderness, and which so oppressed the heart of George Sand that after reading it she, the indefatigable worker, remained for three whole days without being able to produce anything at all.—From PELLISSIER, _Le Mouvement littéraire au XIXe siècle_.

VII

It was not very large certainly, being about six feet long by four broad. It could not be called light, as there were bars and a grating to the window. But it was uncommonly comfortable to look at. The space under the window at the farther end was occupied by a square table covered with a reasonably clean and whole red and blue tablecloth; a hard-seated sofa covered with red stuff occupied one side; and a good stout wooden chair afforded a seat for another boy, so that three could sit and work together. Over the door were a row of hat-pegs, and on each side book-cases with cupboards at the bottom; shelves and cupboards being filled indiscriminately with school-books, a cup or two, a mouse-trap and brass candlesticks, leather straps, and some curious-looking articles which puzzled Tom not a little, until his friend explained that they were climbing-irons, and showed their use. A cricket-bat and small fishing-rod stood up in one corner.—From HUGHES’S _Tom Brown’s School-days_.

VIII

Daudet’s imagination does not consist in the invention of facts or characters: he pictures to himself with extraordinary vividness what has passed before his eyes. Though they are marvellously real, his scenes have not that precise and strict perfection which Flaubert used to give to his. He catches in mid-flight the faintest details and holds fast their very movement. The vibration is still there, and one can feel the tremor in the air and the play of the light.

As to his human figures, I question whether Daudet has ever had his equal in the picturesque truthfulness of his portraits, in the capacity of reproducing the expression of a face, an attitude or dress. And it does not follow that, as certain “psychological” writers have hinted, Daudet was deficient in “psychology.” We cannot find in him that cold, pedantic psychology which consists of the authors’s own reflections; and if, to be a “psychologist,” it is necessary to explain minutely every step and every gesture, or to put wearisome commentaries in the place of action, Daudet does not deserve the name. But perhaps there is a distinction to be made between a novel and an anatomical treatise. —From PETIT DE JULLEVILLE, _Hist. de la litt. fr_. vol. viii.

IX

The founders and arbiters of the public-school system who ordained that life in these institutions should be one incessant round of activity from the beginning of term to its end have perhaps proved to be the children of wisdom. To a healthy boy who can manage to keep his place in the crowd without undue straining, there is a tonic effect in the absence of leisure; and the sense of being a lively part in a great and ever-moving body is an admirable enemy to stagnation of mind. It is only the special case, the variant from the type, who suffers when he is included in masses that move by rule; and if we are inclined to admit the dangerous premise that any suffering can be good for a young soul, we may cheerfully conclude that the rough process is justified if it turns the variant into a solid, ordinary person; or, if he is a hopeless rebel, at least teaches him that the thorns of life are not tender to him who kicks. —From _The First Round_, by ST. JOHN LUCAS.

X

Much of the influence he gained over his scholars was attributable to his knowledge of the individual characteristics of boys. He is said to have known every boy in the school, his appearance, his habits, and his companions. It cannot be said that he was always genial in manner; the youngest boys especially regarded him with awe, and his own sense of the intense seriousness of life and duty gave a sternness and austerity to his aspect which made many of his pupils afraid of him. His conception of a school was that it should be first of all a place for the formation of character, and next a place for learning and study, as a means for the attainment of this higher end. Discipline and guidance were in his view still more prominently the business of a schoolmaster than the impartation of knowledge. His influence was stimulative rather than formative, the secret of his power consisting not so much in the novelty of his ideas or methods as in his commanding and magnetic personality. —From _Thomas Arnold_, by SIR JOSHUA FITCH.

XI