A Parricide

by Guy de Maupassant

　　

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The lawyer had presented a plea of insanity. How could anyone explainthis strange crime otherwise?One morning, in the grass near Chatou, two bodies had been found, a manand a woman, well known, rich, no longer young and married since thepreceding year, the woman having been a widow for three years before.They were not known to have enemies; they had not been robbed. Theyseemed to have been thrown from the roadside into the river, after havingbeen struck, one after the other, with a long iron spike.The investigation revealed nothing. The boatmen, who had beenquestioned, knew nothing. The matter was about to be given up, when ayoung carpenter from a neighboring village, Georges Louis, nicknamed "theBourgeois," gave himself up.To all questions he only answered this:"I had known the man for two years, the woman for six months. They oftenhad me repair old furniture for them, because I am a clever workman."And when he was asked:"Why did you kill them?"He would obstinately answer:"I killed them because I wanted to kill them."They could get nothing more out of him.This man was undoubtedly an illegitimate child, put out to nurse and thenabandoned. He had no other name than Georges Louis, but as on growing uphe became particularly intelligent, with the good taste and nativerefinement which his acquaintances did not have, he was nicknamed "theBourgeois," and he was never called otherwise. He had become remarkablyclever in the trade of a carpenter, which he had taken up. He was alsosaid to be a socialist fanatic, a believer in communistic and nihilisticdoctrines, a great reader of bloodthirsty novels, an influentialpolitical agitator and a clever orator in the public meetings of workmenor of farmers.His lawyer had pleaded insanity.Indeed, how could one imagine that this workman should kill his bestcustomers, rich and generous (as he knew), who in two years had enabledhim to earn three thousand francs (his books showed it)? Only oneexplanation could be offered: insanity, the fixed idea of the unclassedindividual who reeks vengeance on two bourgeois, on all ,the bourgeoisie,and the lawyer made a clever allusion to this nickname of "TheBourgeois," given throughout the neighborhood to this poor wretch.He exclaimed:"Is this irony not enough to unbalance the mind of this poor wretch, whohas neither father nor mother? He is an ardent republican. What am Isaying? He even belongs to the same political party, the members ofwhich, formerly shot or exiled by the government, it now welcomes withopen arms this party to which arson is a principle and murder an ordinaryoccurrence."These gloomy doctrines, now applauded in public meetings, have ruinedthis man. He has heard republicans--even women, yes, women---ask for theblood of M. Gambetta, the blood of M. Grevy; his weakened mind gave way;he wanted blood, the blood of a bourgeois!"It is not he whom you should condemn, gentlemen; it is the Commune!"Everywhere could be heard murmurs of assent. Everyone felt that thelawyer had won his case. The prosecuting attorney did not oppose him.Then the presiding judge asked the accused the customary question:"Prisoner, is there anything that you wish to add to your defense?"The man stood up.He was a short, flaxen blond, with calm, clear, gray eyes. A strong,frank, sonorous voice came from this frail-looking boy and, at the firstwords, quickly changed the opinion which had been formed of him.He spoke loud in a declamatory manner, but so distinctly that every wordcould be understood in the farthest corners of the big hall:"Your honor, as I do not wish to go to an insane asylum, and as I evenprefer death to that, I will tell everything."I killed this man and this woman because they were my parents."Now, listen, and judge me."A woman, having given birth to a boy, sent him out, somewhere, to anurse. Did she even know where her accomplice carried this innocentlittle being, condemned to eternal misery, to the shame of anillegitimate birth; to more than that--to death, since he was abandonedand the nurse, no longer receiving the monthly pension, might, as theyoften do, let him die of hunger and neglect!"The woman who nursed me was honest, better, more noble, more of a motherthan my own mother. She brought me up. She did wrong in doing her duty.It is more humane to let them die, these little wretches who are castaway in suburban villages just as garbage is thrown away."I grew up with the indistinct impression that I was carrying some burdenof shame. One day the other children called me a 'b-----'. They did notknow the meaning of this word, which one of them had heard at home.I was also ignorant of its meaning, but I felt the sting all the same."I was, I may say, one of the cleverest boys in the school. I would havebeen a good man, your honor, perhaps a man of superior intellect, if myparents had not committed the crime of abandoning me."This crime was committed against me. I was the victim, they were theguilty ones. I was defenseless, they were pitiless. Their duty was tolove me, they rejected me."I owed them life--but is life a boon? To me, at any rate, it was amisfortune. After their shameful desertion, I owed them only vengeance.They committed against me the most inhuman, the most infamous, the mostmonstrous crime which can be committed against a human creature."A man who has been insulted, strikes; a man who has been robbed, takesback his own by force. A man who has been deceived, played upon,tortured, kills; a man who has been slapped, kills; a man who has beendishonored, kills. I have been robbed, deceived, tortured, morallyslapped, dishonored, all this to a greater degree than those whose angeryou excuse."I revenged myself, I killed. It was my legitimate right. I took theirhappy life in exchange for the terrible one which they had forced on me."You will call me parricide! Were these people my parents, for whom Iwas an abominable burden, a terror, an infamous shame; for whom my birthwas a calamity and my life a threat of disgrace? They sought a selfishpleasure; they got an unexpected child. They suppressed the child. Myturn came to do the same for them."And yet, up to quite recently, I was ready to love them."As I have said, this man, my father, came to me for the first time twoyears ago. I suspected nothing. He ordered two pieces of furniture.I found out, later on, that, under the seal of secrecy, naturally, he hadsought information from the priest."He returned often. He gave me a lot of work and paid me well.Sometimes he would even talk to me of one thing or another. I felt agrowing affection for him."At the beginning of this year he brought with him his wife, my mother.When she entered she was trembling so that I thought her to be sufferingfrom some nervous disease. Then she asked for a seat and a glass ofwater. She said nothing; she looked around abstractedly at my work andonly answered 'yes' and 'no,' at random, to all the questions which heasked her. When she had left I thought her a little unbalanced."The following month they returned. She was calm, self-controlled. Thatday they chattered for a long time, and they left me a rather largeorder. I saw her three more times, without suspecting anything. But oneday she began to talk to me of my life, of my childhood, of my parents.I answered: 'Madame, my parents were wretches who deserted me.' Then sheclutched at her heart and fell, unconscious. I immediately thought: 'Sheis my mother!' but I took care not to let her notice anything. I wishedto observe her."I, in turn, sought out information about them. I learned that they hadbeen married since last July, my mother having been a widow for onlythree years. There had been rumors that they had loved each other duringthe lifetime of the first husband, but there was no proof of it. I wasthe proof--the proof which they had at first hidden and then hoped todestroy."I waited. She returned one evening, escorted as usual by my father.That day she seemed deeply moved, I don't know why. Then, as she wasleaving, she said to me: 'I wish you success, because you seem to me tobe honest and a hard worker; some day you will undoubtedly think ofgetting married. I have come to help you to choose freely the woman whomay suit you. I was married against my inclination once and I know whatsuffering it causes. Now I am rich, childless, free, mistress of myfortune. Here is your dowry.'"She held out to me a large, sealed envelope."I looked her straight in the eyes and then said: 'Are you my mother?'"She drew back a few steps and hid her face in her hands so as not to seeme. He, the man, my father, supported her in his arms and cried out tome: 'You must be crazy!'"I answered: 'Not in the least. I know that you are my parents. Icannot be thus deceived. Admit it and I will keep the secret; I willbear you no ill will; I will remain what I am, a carpenter.'"He retreated towards the door, still supporting his wife who wasbeginning to sob. Quickly I locked the door, put the key in my pocketand continued: 'Look at her and dare to deny that she is my mother.'"Then he flew into a passion, very pale, terrified at the thought thatthe scandal, which had so far been avoided, might suddenly break out;that their position, their good name, their honor might all at once belost. He stammered out: 'You are a rascal, you wish to get money fromus! That's the thanks we get for trying to help such common people!'"My mother, bewildered, kept repeating: 'Let's get out of here, let's getout!'"Then, when he found the door locked, he exclaimed : 'If you do not openthis door immediately, I will have you thrown into prison for blackmailand assault!'"I had remained calm; I opened the door and saw them disappear in thedarkness."Then I seemed to have been suddenly orphaned, deserted, pushed to thewall. I was seized with an overwhelming sadness, mingled with anger,hatred, disgust; my whole being seemed to rise up in revolt against theinjustice, the meanness, the dishonor, the rejected love. I began torun, in order to overtake them along the Seine, which they had to followin order to reach the station of Chaton."I soon caught up with them. It was now pitch dark. I was creeping upbehind them softly, that they might not hear me. My mother was stillcrying. My father was saying: 'It's all your own fault. Why did youwish to see him? It was absurd in our position. We could have helpedhim from afar, without showing ourselves. Of what use are thesedangerous visits, since we can't recognize him?'"Then I rushed up to them, beseeching. I cried:'You see! You are my parents. You have already rejected me once; wouldyou repulse me again?'"Then, your honor, he struck me. I swear it on my honor, before the lawand my country. He struck me, and as I seized him by the collar, he drewfrom his pocket a revolver."The blood rushed to my head, I no longer knew what I was doing, I had mycompass in my pocket; I struck him with it as often as I could."Then she began to cry: 'Help! murder!' and to pull my beard. It seemsthat I killed her also. How do I know what I did then?"Then, when I saw them both lying on the ground, without thinking, Ithrew them into the Seine."That's all. Now sentence me."The prisoner sat down. After this revelation the case was carried overto the following session. It comes up very soon. If we were jurymen,what would we do with this parricide?

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