"

"We'll go back to it, " said Jacques; "one fine day, some unexpected complication will arise..."

"I don't think so, my brave friend, for our bellicose notions are fading away, and with them our honorable ideas.... In France in the old days, men were afraid of ridicule, but do you think such a thing as a point of honor still exists? There are no duels fought nowadays; the fashion is past; we either compromise or we sue; now, if we no longer fight for honor's sake, why should we do it for politics? If individuals no longer take sword in hand, why should governments pull them from the scabbards? Battles were never more numerous than in the days of duels, and if there are no more duelists, then there are no more soldiers. "

"Oh, new ones will be born, " Jacques declared.

"I doubt it, since the links of commerce are drawing nations ever closer together! The British, the Russians, the Americans all have their banknotes, their rubles, their dollars invested in our commercial enterprises. Isn't money the enemy of the bullet? Hasn't the cotton bale replaced the cannonball? Just think, Jacques! Aren't the British enjoying a privilege they deny us, and gradually becoming the great landowners of France? They possess enormous territories, almost départements now, not conquered but bought, which is a lot more permanent! No one realized what was happening, we just let it happen, and soon these foreigners will own our entire country, and that's when they'll take their revenge on William the Conqueror!"

"My dear fellow, " Jacques replied, "remember this, and you too, young man, listen to what I say, for it's the century's profession of faith: With Montaigne and maybe Rabelais it was What Do I Know? In the nineteenth century it was What Does It Matter to Me? And nowadays we say: How Much Does It Earn? Well, the day a war earns as much as an industrial investment, then there'll be wars. "

"Good! War has never earned anything, especially for France. "

"Because we fought for honor and not for money, " Jacques replied.

"So you believe in an army of intrepid businessmen?"

"Of course. Look at the Americans in their dreadful War of Secession. "

"Well, my friend, an army that fights for a financial motive will no longer be composed of soldiers, but of looters and thieves!"

"All the same, such an army will accomplish wonders. "

"Thieving wonders, " Quinsonnas put in. And the three young men burst out laughing. "To conclude, " resumed the pianist, "here we have Michel, a poet, and Jacques, a soldier, and Quinsonnas, a musician, and this at a moment when our country no longer has music, or poetry, or an army! We are, quite obviously, stupid, all three of us. But at least the meal is over—it was quite substantial, at least in conversation. Let's proceed with other exercises. " The table, once cleared, returned to its slots and grooves, and the piano resumed the place of honor.

Chapter VIII:   Which Concerns Music, Ancient and Modern, and the Practical Utilization of Certain Instruments

"So at last, " Michel exclaimed, "we're going to have a little music. "

"But not modern music, " said Jacques. "It's too hard. "

"To understand, yes, " Quinsonnas replied, "but not to make. "

"How's that?" asked Michel.

"I'll explain, " said Quinsonnas, "and I'm going to support what I say with a striking example. Michel, be so good as to open the piano. " The young man obliged. "Good. Now, sit down on the keyboard. "

"What? You want me... "

"Sit down, I said. " Michel lowered himself onto the keys of the instrument and produced a jangling clash of sounds. "Do you know what you've just done?" asked the pianist.

"I haven't a clue!"

"Innocent! You've just created modern harmony. "

"Right, " said Jacques.

"Really, that's a perfect chord for our times, and the awful thing about it is that today's scholars take it upon themselves to explain it scientifically! In the past, only certain notes could be sounded together; but they've been reconciled since then, and now they no longer quarrel among themselves—they're too well brought up for such a thing!"

"But the effect is still just as unpleasant, " Jacques put in.

"Well, my friend, we've reached this point by the force of events; in the last century, a certain Richard Wagner, a sort of messiah who has been insufficiently crucified, invented the Music of the Future, and we're still enduring it; in his day, melody was already being suppressed, and he decided it was appropriate to get rid of harmony as well—and the house has remained empty ever since. "

"But, " Michel reflected, "it's as if you were making a painting without drawing or color!"

"Precisely, " replied Quinsonnas. "And now that you've mentioned painting—painting isn't really a French art, it comes to us from Italy and from Germany, and I would suffer less seeing it profaned. But music is the very daughter of our heart..."

"I thought, " said Jacques, "that music started in Italy!"

"A mistake, my son; until the middle of the sixteenth century, French music dominated Europe; the Huguenot Goudimel[18] was Palestrina's teacher, and the oldest as well as the most naive melodies are Gallic. "

"And now we've reached this point, " said Michel.

"Yes, my son; on the pretext that we are following new formulas, a score now consists of only a single phrase—long, loopy, endless. At the Opera, it begins at eight o'clock and ends just before midnight; if it should extend five minutes more, it costs the management a fine and overtime for the house workers. "

"And this happens without protest?"

"My son, music is no longer tasted, it is swallowed! A few artists put up a struggle, among them your father; but since his death, not a single note has been written worthy of that name! Either we endure the nauseating melody of the virgin forest, insipid, confused, indeterminate, or else various harmony rackets are produced, of which you have given us such a touching example by sitting on the piano. "

"Pathetic!" said Michel.

"Horrible!" replied Jacques.

"Also, my friends, " Quinsonnas resumed, "you must have observed what big ears we have!"

"No, " replied Jacques.

"Well then, just compare our ears with those of the ancients and with the ears of the Middle Ages—examine the paintings and statues, measure the results, and you will be astonished! Ears grow in proportion as the human body shrinks: someday the final result will be something to see! Well, my friends, physiologists have been diligent in searching out the cause of this decadence, and it seems that it is music we have to thank for such appendages; we are living in an age of wizened tympanums and distorted hearing. You realize that no one keeps a century of Verdi or Wagner in his ears without that organ's having to pay for it.