ads:
The Blind Man
Guy de Maupassant
How is it that the sunlight gives us such joy? Why does this radiance when it falls on the
earth fill us with the joy of living? The whole sky is blue, the fields are green, the houses all
white, and our enchanted eyes drink in those bright colors which bring delight to our souls.
And then there springs up in our hearts a desire to dance, to run, to sing, a happy lightness
of thought, a sort of enlarged tenderness; we feel a longing to embrace the sun.
The blind, as they sit in the doorways, impassive in their eternal darkness, remain as calm
as ever in the midst of this fresh gaiety, and, not understanding what is taking place around
them, they continually check their dogs as they attempt to play.
When, at the close of the day, they are returning home on the arm of a young brother or a
little sister, if the child says: "It was a very fine day!" the other answers: "I could notice that
it was fine. Loulou wouldn't keep quiet."
I knew one of these men whose life was one of the most cruel martyrdoms that could
possibly be conceived.
He was a peasant, the son of a Norman farmer. As long as his father and mother lived, he
was more or less taken care of; he suffered little save from his horrible infirmity; but as
soon as the old people were gone, an atrocious life of misery commenced for him.
Dependent on a sister of his, everybody in the farmhouse treated him as a beggar who is
eating the bread of strangers. At every meal the very food he swallowed was made a subject
of reproach against him; he was called a drone, a clown, and although his brother-in-law
had taken possession of his portion of the inheritance, he was helped grudgingly to soup,
getting just enough to save him from starving.
His face was very pale and his two big white eyes looked like wafers. He remained
unmoved at all the insults hurled at him, so reserved that one could not tell whether he felt
them.
Moreover, he had never known any tenderness, his mother having always treated him
unkindly and caring very little for him; for in country places useless persons are considered
a nuisance, and the peasants would be glad to kill the infirm of their species, as poultry do.
As soon as he finished his soup he went and sat outside the door in summer and in winter
beside the fireside, and did not stir again all the evening. He made no gesture, no
movement; only his eyelids, quivering from some nervous affection, fell down sometimes
over his white, sightless orbs. Had he any intellect, any thinking faculty, any consciousness
of his own existence? Nobody cared to inquire.
For some years things went on in this fashion. But his incapacity for work as well as his
impassiveness eventually exasperated his relatives, and he became a laughingstock, a sort
of butt for merriment, a prey to the inborn ferocity, to the savage gaiety of the brutes who
surrounded him.
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It is easy to imagine all the cruel practical jokes inspired by his blindness. And, in order to
have some fun in return for feeding him, they now converted his meals into hours of
pleasure for the neighbors and of punishment for the helpless creature himself.
The peasants from the nearest houses came to this entertainment; it was talked about from
door to door, and every day the kitchen of the farmhouse was full of people. Sometimes
they placed before his plate, when he was beginning to eat his soup, some cat or dog. The
animal instinctively perceived the man's infirmity, and, softly approaching, commenced
eating noiselessly, lapping up the soup daintily; and, when they lapped the food rather
noisily, rousing the poor fellow's attention, they would prudently scamper away to avoid the
blow of the spoon directed at random by the blind man!
Then the spectators ranged along the wall would burst out laughing, nudge each other and
stamp their feet on the floor. And he, without ever uttering a word, would continue eating
with his right hand, while stretching out his left to protect his plate.
Another time they made him chew corks, bits of wood, leaves or even filth, which he was
unable to distinguish.
After this they got tired even of these practical jokes, and the brother- in-law, angry at
having to support him always, struck him, cuffed him incessantly, laughing at his futile
efforts to ward off or return the blows. Then came a new pleasure--the pleasure of smacking
his face. And the plough-men, the servant girls and even every passing vagabond were
every moment giving him cuffs, which caused his eyelashes to twitch spasmodically. He did
not know where to hide himself and remained with his arms always held out to guard
against people coming too close to him.
At last he was forced to beg.
He was placed somewhere on the high-road on market-days, and as soon as he heard the
sound of footsteps or the rolling of a vehicle, he reached out his hat, stammering:
"Charity, if you please!"
But the peasant is not lavish, and for whole weeks he did not bring back a sou.
Then he became the victim of furious, pitiless hatred. And this is how he died.
One winter the ground was covered with snow, and it was freezing hard. His brother-in-law
led him one morning a great distance along the high road in order that he might solicit alms.
The blind man was left there all day; and when night came on, the brother-in-law told the
people of his house that he could find no trace of the mendicant. Then he added:
"Pooh! best not bother about him! He was cold and got someone to take him away. Never
fear! he's not lost. He'll turn up soon enough tomorrow to eat the soup."
Next day he did not come back.
After long hours of waiting, stiffened with the cold, feeling that he was dying, the blind
ads:
man began to walk. Being unable to find his way along the road, owing to its thick coating
of ice, he went on at random, falling into ditches, getting up again, without uttering a sound,
his sole object being to find some house where he could take shelter.
But, by degrees, the descending snow made a numbness steal over him, and his feeble limbs
being incapable of carrying him farther, he sat down in the middle of an open field. He did
not get up again.
The white flakes which fell continuously buried him, so that his body, quite stiff and stark,
disappeared under the incessant accumulation of their rapidly thickening mass, and nothing
was left to indicate the place where he lay.
His relatives made a pretence of inquiring about him and searching for him for about a
week. They even made a show of weeping.
The winter was severe, and the thaw did not set in quickly. Now, one Sunday, on their way
to mass, the farmers noticed a great flight of crows, who were whirling incessantly above
the open field, and then descending like a shower of black rain at the same spot, ever going
and coming.
The following week these gloomy birds were still there. There was a crowd of them up in
the air, as if they had gathered from all corners of the horizon, and they swooped down with
a great cawing into the shining snow, which they covered like black patches, and in which
they kept pecking obstinately. A young fellow went to see what they were doing and
discovered the body of the blind man, already half devoured, mangled. His wan eyes had
disappeared, pecked out by the long, voracious beaks.
And I can never feel the glad radiance of sunlit days without sadly remembering and
pondering over the fate of the beggar who was such an outcast in life- that his horrible death
was a relief to all who had known him.
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