Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"L'Enfant" originally appeared in the Paris periodical La France on October 21, 1885.
Motteau gave his testimony as follows:
"There you have it, your honor. You've listened to all these
people --my good neighbors and my good friends. They haven't cut me any slack, and that's fair enough. They felt uncomfortable as long as I was in Boulaie (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"Avant L'Enterrement" first appeared in the Paris newspaper Gil Blas on April 19, 1887
Mr. Poivret got down from his wagon in front of the shop owned by
his son-in-law Pierre Gasselin, tied the horse to a thick iron ring and, after three times checking the tightness of the tether's knot, he entered the butcher shop cracking his horse-whip.
"Anyone there?" he yelled.
A dog, sleeping with its body stretched across a sunny patch of
floor, got up with a low groan and then laid itself out a little farther out of the way. The store was deserted, and since it was Thursday, the meat rack was pretty close to empty. A quarter of nearly black beef lay on the block, covered with flies, and... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) “Lirat! Ah, at last it is you! For a week I have been looking for you, have been writing to you, have been calling you, have been waiting for you.... Lirat, my dear Lirat, save me!”
“What? My God! What’s wrong?”
“I want to kill myself.”
“Kill yourself! Well, that’s an old story. Come, there is no danger.”
“I want to kill myself! I want to kill myself!...”
Lirat looked at me, blinked his eyes and paced up and down the study with long strides.
“My poor Mintié!” he said, “if you were a statesman, a stockbroker or.... Well, I don’t know ... say a grocer, an art critic, or a journalist, I would say to you: ‘You are unhappy and you h... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.) Joseph puzzles me. His ways are really mysterious, and I do not know what goes on in this silent and furious soul. But surely something extraordinary. His look sometimes is difficult to endure,—so difficult that mine avoids its intimidating fixity. He has a slow and gliding gait, that frightens me. One would say that he was dragging a ball riveted to his ankle, or, rather, the recollection of a ball. Is this a relic of a prison or of a convent? Both, perhaps. His back, too, frightens me, and also his large, powerful neck, tanned by the sun till it looks like old leather, and stiffened with sinews that stretch and strain like ropes. I have noticed on the back of his neck a collection of hard muscles that stand out in an exaggerated fas... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.) Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"La Mort du Chien" originally appeared in the monarchist paper Le Galois under the pen name Henry Lys on August 23, 1884, about a year before the author's conversion to anarchism. Although most of Mirbeau's work remains untranslated, he is now regarded by French critics as one of the most important writers of his period, and his 1903 play Business is Business made a triumphant return to the Paris stage in 1995. He is best known to anglophone posterity for his novels The Torture Garden (1898) and Diary of a Chambermaid (1900).
His master called him Turk. He was thin, yellow, and sad, with a
pointed snout, a small build, and short, badly cropped ears that were always bleeding. The tail h... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) Translated by Robert Helms
"Des ilections" first appeared in La France (Paris), Aug.12, 1885.
What's going to happen? Where will we flee? Already the
election campaigns are infected by a terrible leprosy. The cabarets roar, rolling over with drunken eyes. Looming above the intersections, the red, blue, and yellow posters explode across the walls of solitary houses. The peasants hurry to gather their wheat and oats before the political whirlwind blows in, like a devastating sirocco. The bad smell of spilled wine is hanging in the air, and the deafening clamor of committees comes from everywhere, left, right, and center, calling for an encore, and marking time on the bass drum of alcoholic frenzy.
People walk by, cross the... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) [A wine shop. A door, left, opens onto the street. To the right of the door, a counter is covered with various bottles; behind the counter, more shelves, also covered with bottles, glasses, etc ... On the walls, various theater posters ... Tables, chairs.]
[CHAPUZOT, a large, red-faced figure, in shirt sleeves, arms bare, a towel around his neck, stands behind the counter rinsing glasses. A WOMAN, dressed very poorly, her face glazed over with the stunned mask of misery and drink, nurses a small glass of liquor. People pass in the street, behind the door, which reads: ... Wines and Liquors… Top-quality, 20 centimes.]
CHAPUZOT: So … you know every morning won’t be like this?
WOMAN: I know ... I know.
... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.) Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"La Justice de Paix" first appeared in La France on July 24, 1885, and was later anthologized in Lettres de ma Chaumiere, dedicated to Guy de Maupassant.
The Justice of the Peace occupied a ground floor hearing room in
the village's town hall that looked out onto the square. The stark, tiled room was divided in the middle by a sort of railing made of wh (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) Translated and introduced by Robert Helms
François-Claudius Koeningstein (Oct. 14, 1859 -- July 11, 1892), known to posterity as Ravachol, was born to Dutch and French parents at Saint-Chamond, near St. Etienne in Eastern France. He was angered by two actions taken by the French government on May 1, 1891. One was at Fourmies, where the newly designed Lebels machine gun was used against a peaceful May Day rally at which women and children were carrying flowers and palms. Casualties there numbered 14 dead and 40 wounded. The other incident was at Clichy, where police attacked a six-man anarchist labor rally. The workers defended themselves with pistol-shots and were subsequently given long terms at hard labor.
Ravachol to... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"L'Oiseau Sacri" first appeared in the literary supplement of the Paris anarchist paper La Rivolte #3 (Sept. 27, 1890), reprinted from L'Echo de Paris.
A few leagues from my cottage, in one of the most fertile areas
in France, there lies a certain immense property. For only the past ten years the place has belonged to a well-known banker, but it isn't used for hunting parties. The chateau was partly demolished during the first revolution. Nothing remains of it but an uncrowned brick tower and some charred walls that invade the weeds, which grow into trees, and the moss. The banker considered rebuilding it according to its original design, but then abandoned the idea because of the exp... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.) There’s something that astounds me enormously. In fact, I’d even say that it stupefies me, and that’s that at this scientific moment when I’m writing, after countless experiences, after daily scandals, there can still exist in our dear France (as they say at the Budget Commission) one voter, one single voter – that irrational, inorganic, hallucinatory animal – who consents to put a halt to his affairs, his dreams, and his pleasures in order to vote in favor of someone or something. If we think about it for just one instant, is this surprising phenomenon not one fit to confuse the most subtle philosophers and confound reason? Where is the Balzac who can give us the physiology of the modern voter, or the Ch... (From: TheAnarchistLibrary.org.) Translated from the French by Robert Helms
"Le Mur" first appeared in L'Echo de Paris on February 20, 1894
Old man Rivoli had a wall. This wall ran along a road, and it was crumbling badly. The rains and the road mender's pickax had undermined the base. The stones, having come loose, hardly held together any longer, and cracks were opening up. It was beautiful, however, having the look of an ancient ruin. Some irises crowned the top, while figworts, maidenhair, and houseleeks pushed their way through the fissures. Some poppies, too, paraded their frail bodies between cracks in the rubble-stones. But Pop Rivoli was not sensitive to the poetry of his wall, and, after examining it at length, and jiggling some of its loose stones li... (From: Mid-Atlantic Infoshop.)
