Thousands in
a small way of life, ay, and even in the smallest, go through
life with tenfold as much honour and dignity and peace of
mind, as the rich gluttons whose dainties and state-beds
awakened Villon's covetous temper. And every morning's sun
sees thousands who pass whistling to their toil. But Villon
was the "mauvais pauvre" defined by Victor Hugo, and, in its
English expression, so admirably stereotyped by Dickens. He
was the first wicked sansculotte. He is the man of genius
with the moleskin cap. He is mighty pathetic and beseeching
here in the street, but I would not go down a dark road with
him for a large consideration.
The second of the points on which he was genuine and emphatic
was common to the middle ages; a deep and somewhat snivelling
conviction of the transitory nature of this life and the pity
and horror of death. Old age and the grave, with some dark
and yet half-sceptical terror of an after-world - these were
ideas that clung about his bones like a disease. An old ape,
as he says, may play all the tricks in its repertory, and
none of them will tickle an audience into good humour.
"Tousjours vieil synge est desplaisant." It is not the old
jester who receives most recognition at a tavern party, but
the young fellow, fresh and handsome, who knows the new
slang, and carries off his vice with a certain air.
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