Camille

by Alexandre Dumas fils

in the midst of all these beautiful things, they could not help looking about for some traces of this courtesan’s life, of which they had heard, no doubt, strange enough stories.

Dumas emphasizes the way people dismiss the humanity of a courtesan, but in this scene, he points out that her life is now a curiosity to many.

God had been merciful to the poor child, in not having left her to pay the ordinary penalty, but rather to die in the midst of her beauty and luxury, before the coming of old age, the courtesan’s first death.

God has mercy on prostitutes - a constant theme.

Is there anything sadder in the world than the old age of vice, especially in woman? She preserves no dignity, she inspires no interest.

Many women would say that they become invisible in old age, except to those who have known and loved them. The woman of kindness and love need not fear old age.

I shall always remember her, as she passed along the boulevards almost every day at the same hour, accompanied by her mother as assiduously as a real mother might have accompanied her daughter.

The soul has strange refuges.

“Mademoiselle Marguerite Gautier.” I knew her by name and by sight. “What!” I said to the attendant; “Marguerite Gautier is dead?” “Yes, sir.” “When did she die?”

“Poor girl!” I said to myself as I returned home; “she must have had a sad death, for, in her world, one has friends only when one is perfectly well.”

It will seem absurd to many people, but I have an unbounded sympathy for women of this kind, and I do not think it necessary to apologize for such sympathy.

Another persistent theme

Since that day I have never dared to despise a woman at first sight.

They are suns which set as they rose, unobserved. Their death, when they die young, is heard of by all their lovers at the same moment, for in Paris almost all the lovers of a well-known woman are friends. A few recollections are exchanged, and everybody’s life goes on as if the incident had never occurred, without so much as a tear.

Pathos - the author’s pain over his own mother.

as they are afraid of solitude, they take with them either those who are not well enough off to have a carriage, or one or another of those elegant, ancient ladies,

whose elegance is a little inexplicable, and to whom one can always go for information in regard to the women whom they accompany.

Some among the details of this chapter did not reach me until later, but I write them here so as not to be obliged to return to them when the story itself has begun.

Author sets us up for the story of her life and love. We learn bits along the way, but we are still not sure when he will tell us all. This creates a kind of suspense that makes the reader want to read further.

She was never seen with any flowers but camellias.

A mystery — why? We expect to learn later.

This, then, was the state of things three months after Marguerite’s return; that is to say, in November or December, 1842.

furtively examined by certain great ladies who had again seized the opportunity of the sale in order to be able to see, close at hand, women whom they might never have another occasion of meeting, and whom they envied perhaps in secret for their easy pleasures.

“Respectable women” are called out her for their unfeeling hypocrisy towards the courtesan.

We might cite the initials of many more of those who found themselves, not without some mutual surprise, side by side in one room.

everyone was in the highest spirits, and that many of those present had known the dead

Unfeeling inhumanity

woman, and seemed quite oblivious of the fact. There was a sound of loud laughter;

I slipped quietly into the midst of this tumult, sad to think of when one remembered that the poor creature whose goods were being sold to pay her debts had died in the next room.

who came now after her death to gather in at once the fruits of their dishonourable calculations and the interest on their shameful credit! How

Vultures!

All at once I heard: “A volume, beautifully bound, gilt-edged, entitled Manon Lescaut. There is something written on the first page. Ten francs.” “Twelve,” said a voice after a longish silence. “Fifteen,” I said.

This book was well known in its time and influenced Dumas’ character of Camille. By placing it in his book, he does honor to it and its author. Probably worth a read to compare it.

Marguerite in fact, as I had found from some friends who knew of the last circumstances of her life, had not a single real friend by her bedside during the two months of her long and painful agony.

The plight of the social outcast

and, under a false cloak of shame, you will not pity this blindness of heart, this deafness of soul, this dumbness of conscience, which sets the poor afflicted creature beside herself and makes her, in spite of herself, incapable of seeing what is good, of hearing the Lord, and of speaking the pure language of love and faith.

It is wrong to look down on a fellow creature for their sin. God deals with us all in an understanding way. To understand the downtrodden one must understand the downward spiral of sin and act with compassion. This is a very Christian teaching, which translates that the author was Christian with great compassion towards sinners.

the thinkers and poets of all time have brought to the courtesan the offering of their pity, and at times a great man has rehabilitated them with his love and even with his name.

they will fear to find an apology for vice and prostitution;

I am quite simply convinced of a certain principle, which is: For the woman whose education has not taught her what is right, God almost always opens two ways which lead thither, the ways of sorrow and of love.

Here’s where understanding comes into play: If a person is stuck in a sinful path, then it is because they did not have the proper upbringing. Whether it is ignorance or willfulness, sin may start out pleasantly but it leads to our undoing.

One must needs, like Christ, point out the ways which lead from the second road to the first, to those who have been easily led astray; and it is needful that the beginning of these ways should not be too painful nor appear too impenetrable.

Jesus was full of love for souls wounded by the passions of men; he loved to bind up their wounds and to find in those very wounds the balm which should heal them.

Why do we make ourselves more strict than Christ? Why, holding obstinately to the opinions of the world, which hardens itself in order that it may be thought strong, do we reject, as it rejects, souls bleeding at wounds by which, like a sick man’s bad blood, the evil of their past may be healed, if only a friendly hand is stretched out to lave them and set them in the convalescence of the heart?

One must walk with the Redeemer to walk this path of love.

I am one of those who believe that all is in little.

man; the brain is narrow, and it harbours thought; the eye is but a point, and it covers leagues.

me. I glanced at the card and there read these two words: Armand Duval.

go and see Julie Duprat. She will give you my journal.

“Who was this Armand?” “A fellow who squandered on her the little money he had, and then had to leave her. They say he was quite wild about it.”

Another method to create suspense.

I gave one more look at the grave covered with flowers, half longing to penetrate the depths of the earth and see what the earth had made of the fair creature that had been cast to it; then I walked sadly away.

you see, if you want to move a body from one grave to another you must have it identified, and only the family can give leave for it under the direction of a police inspector. That is why M. Duval has gone to see Mlle. Gautier’s sister, and you may be sure his first visit will be for me.”

Have you seen Julie Duprat?” “Yes, I saw her the day I returned, for the first time.” “Did she give you the papers that Marguerite had left for you?”