ike you and me. The angels will effect an equivocal, ambiguous, mysterious beauty which will trouble hearts. What desire for heaven will these representations impart? None, but from them you will learn to take pleasure in the forms of terrestrial life. Where will painters stop their indiscreet inquiries? They will stop nowhere. They will go so far as to show men and women naked, like the idols of the Romans. There will be a sacred art and a profane art, and the sacred art will not be less profane than the other. Get you behind me, demons, exclaimed the old master. For in prophetic vision he saw the righteous and the saints assuming the appearance of melancholy athletes. He saw apostles playing the lute on a flowery hill in the midst of the muses wearing light tunics. He saw venuses lying under shady myrtles in the Dane exposing their charming sides to the golden rain. He saw pictures of Jesus under the pillars of the temple amidst patricians, fair ladies, musicians, pages, negros, dogs, and parrots. He saw in an inextricable confusion of human limbs, outspread wings and flying draperies, crowds of tumultuous nativities, opulent holy families, emphatic crucifixions. He saw St. Catherine's, St. Barbara's, St. Agnes's humiliating patricians by the sumptuousness of their velvets, their rockades and their pearls, and by the splendor of their breasts. He saw auroras scattering roses, and a multitude of naked dianas and nymphs surprised on the banks of retired streams. And the great Margaritoni died, strangled by so horrible a presentiment of the Renaissance and the Bollionnay's school. We possess a precious monument of the Penguin literature of the 15th century. It is a narrative of a journey to hell undertaken by the monk Marbodius, of the Order of St. Benedict, who professed a fervent admiration for the poet Virgil. This narrative, written in fairly good Latin, has been published by Monsieur du Claude de Lime. It is here translated for the first time. I believe that I am doing a service to my fellow countrymen in making them acquainted with these pages, though doubtless they are far from forming a unique example of this class of medieval Latin literature. Among the fictions that may be compared with them, we may mention the voyage of St. Brendan, the vision of Albaricus, and St. Patrick's Purgatory, imaginary descriptions, like Dante Alighieri's divine comedy of the supposed abode of the dead. The narrative of Marbodius is one of the latest works dealing with this theme, but it is not the least singular. The Descent of Marbodius into Hell. In the fourteen hundred and fifty-third year of the incarnation of the Son of God, a few days before the enemies of the cross entered the city of Helena and the great Constantine, it was given to me, brother Marbodius, an unworthy monk, to see and to hear what none had hitherto seen or heard. I have composed a faithful narrative of those things so that their memory may not perish with me, for man's time is short. On the first day of May, in the aforesaid year, at the hour of Vespers, I was seated in the Abbey of Corrigan, on a stone in the cloisters, and, as my custom was, I read the verses of the poet whom I love best of all, Virgil, who was sung of the labours, of the field, of shepherds, and of heroes. Evening was hanging its purple folds from the arches of the cloisters, and in a voice of emotion I was murmuring the verses which describe how Dido, the Phoenician queen, wanders with her ever-bleeding wound beneath the myrtles of hell. At that moment Brother Hilary happened to pass by, followed by Brother Jacinth, the porter. Brought up in the barbarous ages before the resurrection of the Muses, Brother Hilary has not been initiated into the wisdom of the ancients. Nevertheless, the poetry of the Mantuan has, like a subtle torch, shed some gleams of light into his understanding. Brother Marbodius, he asked me, do those verses that you utter with swelling breast and sparkling eyes, do they belong to that great Aeneid from which morning or evening your glances are never withheld? I answered that I was reading in Virgil how the son of Ancices perceived Dido like a moon behind the foliage. The author notes here that the text runs, qual'em primo qui c'iguerre immense, advidet, advidessi, votat per nuble lunam. Brother Marbodius, by a strange misunderstanding, substitutes an entirely different image for the one created by the poet. Brother Marbodius, Brother Hilary replied, I am certain that on all occasions Virgil gives expression to wise maxims and profound thoughts, but the songs that he modulates on his Syracusan flute hold such a lofty meaning and such exalted doctrine that I am continually puzzled by them. Take care, Father, cried Brother Jacinth in an agitated voice. Virgil was a magician who wrought marvels by the help of demons. It is thus he pierced through a mountain near Naples and fashioned a bronze horse that had the power to heal all the diseases of horses. He was a necromancer and there is still shown in a certain town in Italy the mirror in which he made the dead appear. And yet a woman deceived this great sorcerer. The Aeneapolitan courtesan invited him to hoist himself up to her window in the basket that was used to bring the provisions and she left him all night, suspended between two stories. Brother Hilary did not appear to hear these observations. Virgil is a prophet. He replied, and a prophet who leaves far behind him the symbols with their sacred verses as well as the daughter of King Priam and that great diviner of future things, Plato of Athens. You will find in the fourth of his Syracusan cantos the birth of our Lord foretold in a language that seems of heaven rather than of earth. The author notes here that three centuries before the epoch in which our Marvodius lived, the words Maro, Vates, Gentilium, the Christo Testimonium, were sung in the churches on Christmas Day. Brother Hilary continued, in the time of my early studies when I read for the first time, Jamm read it at Virgo, I felt myself bathed in an infinite delight, but I immediately experienced intense grief at the thought that, forever deprived of the presence of God, the author of this prophetic verse, the noblest that has come from human lips, was pining among the heathen in internal darkness. This cruel thought did not leave me, yet pursued me even in my studies, my prayers, my meditations and my ascetic labours. Thinking that Virgil was deprived of the sight of God and that possibly he might even be suffering the fate of the reprobate in hell, I couldn't neither enjoy peace nor rest and I went so far as to exclaim several times a day with my arms outstretched to heaven. Reveal to me, O Lord, the lot thou hast assigned to him who sang on earth as the angels sing in heaven. After some years my anguish ceased when I read in an old book that the great Apostle St. Paul, who called the Gentiles into the Church of Christ, went to Naples and sanctified with his tears the tomb of the Prince of Poets. The author here quotes the original Latin, ad maronas mosoliam ductus, fudit superium bierrorum lacrime, quem te intuit redidessem sit vivum in venesim botarum maximae. And we return to Brother Marmodius's narrative. Having thus spoken, old Hillary wished me the peace of a holy night and went away with Brother Jacinthe. I resumed the delightful study of my poet. Book in hand I meditated upon the way in which those whom love destroys with its cruel malady wander through the secret paths in the depth of the Myrtle Forest. And as I meditated the quivering reflections of the stars came and mingled with those of the leafless eglentines in the waters of the Cloister Fountain. Suddenly the lights and the perfumes and the stillness of the sky were overwhelmed. A fierce north wind charged with storm and darkness burst roaring upon me. It lifted me up and carried me like a wisp of straw over fields, cities, rivers, and mountains and through the mist of thunderclouds during a long night composed of a whole series of nights and days. And when after this prolonged and cruel rage the hurricane was at last stilled, I found myself far from my native land at the bottom of a valley bordered by cypress trees. Then a woman of wild beauty, trailing long garments behind her, approached me. She placed her left hand on my shoulder and pointing her right arm to an oak with thick foliage. "'Look,' said she to me. Immediately I recognized the cybil who guards the sacred wood of Avernus and I discerned the fair Proserpene's beautiful golden twig amongst the tufted bows of the tree to which her finger pointed. "'O prophetic virgin,' I exclaimed. "'Thou hast comprehended my desire and thou hast satisfied it in this way. Thou hast revealed to me the tree that bears the shining twig without which none can enter alive into the dwelling place of the dead. And in truth eagerly did I long to converse with the shade of Virgil. Having said this I snatched the golden branch from its ancient trunk and I advanced without fear into the smoking gulf that leads to the myery banks of the sticks upon which the shades are tossed about like dead leaves. At sight of the branch dedicated to Proserpene Charon took me in his bark, which groaned beneath my weight, and I alighted on the shores of the dead and was greeted by the mute baying of the threefold Cerberus. I pretended to throw the shade of a stone at him and the vain monster fled into his cave. There amidst the rushes wandered the souls of those children whose eyes had but opened and shut to the kindly light of day and there in a gloomy cavern, minus judge's men. I penetrated into the myrtle wood in which the victims of love wander languishing, Phaedra, Procrus, the sad Eryphile, Evadne, Pasiphe, Laudamia, and Sinus, and the Phoenician Dido. Then I went through the dusty plains reserved for famous warriors. Beyond them opened two ways. That to the left leads to Tartarus, the abode of the wicked. I took that to the right, which leads to Elysium and to the dwellings of Dis. Having hung the sacred branch at the goddess's door, I reached pleasant fields flooded with purple light. The shades of philosophers and poets hold grave converse there. The graces and the muses formed sprightly choirs upon the grass. Old Homer sang, accompanying himself upon his rustic lyre. His eyes were closed, but divine images shone upon his lips. I saw Solon, Democritus, and Pythagoras watching the games of the young men in the meadow, and through the foliage of an ancient laurel I perceived also Hesiod, Orpheus, the melancholy Euripides, and the masculine Sappho. I passed and recognized as they sat on the bank of a fresh rivulet, the poet Horus, Varius, Gallus, and Licorus. A little apart, leaning against the trunk of a dark-home oak, Virgil was gazing pensively at the grove. Of lofty stature, though spare, he still preserved that swarthy complexion, that rustic air, that negligent bearing and unpolished appearance which during his lifetime concealed his genius. I saluted him piously and remained for a long time without speech. At last, when my halting voice could proceed out of my throat, O thou so dear to the Ossonian muses, thou honour of the Latin name Virgil, cried I, it is through thee I have known what beauty is. It is through thee I have known what the tables of the gods and the beds of the goddesses are like. Suffer the praises of the humblest of thy adorers. Arise, stranger, answered the divine poet, I perceive that thou art a living being among the shades, and that thy body treads down the grass in this eternal evening. Thou art not the first man who has descended before his death into these dwellings, though all intercourse between us and the living is difficult, but cease from praise. I do not like eulogies, and the confused sounds of glory have always offended my ears. That is why I fled from Rome, where I was known to the idol and curious, and laboured in the solitude of my beloved Parthenope. And then I am not so convinced that the men of thy generation understand my verses, that they should be gratified by thy praises. Who art thou? I am called Marpodius of the kingdom of Alca. I made my profession in the Abbey of Corrigan. I read thy poems by day and I read them by night. It is thee whom I have come to see in hell. I was impatient to know what thy fate was. On earth the learned often dispute about it. Some hold it probable that having lived under the power of demons, thou art now burning in inextinguishable flames. Others more cautious pronounce no opinion, believing that all which is said concerning the dead is uncertain and full of lies. Several, though not in truth the ablest, maintain that because thou didst elevate the tone of the Sicilian muses, and foretell that a new progeny would descend from heaven, thou art admitted, like the Emperor Trajan, to enjoy eternal blessedness in the Christian heaven. Thou seest that such is not the case, answered the shades smiling. I meet thee in truth, O Virgil, among the heroes and sages in those illusine fields which thou thyself has described. Thus contrary to what several on earth believe, no one has come to seek thee on the part of him who reigns on high, after a rather long silence, I will conceal not from thee, he sent for me. One of his messengers, a simple man, came to say that I was expected, and that although I had not been initiated into their mysteries, in consideration of my prophetic verses, a place had been reserved for me among those of the new sect. But I refused to accept that invitation. I had no desire to change my lace. I did so not because I share the admiration of the Greeks for the Elysian fields, or because I taste here those joys which caused prosopene to lose the remembrance of her mother. I never believed much myself in what I say about these things in the Aeneid. I was instructed by philosophers and men of science, and I had a correct foreboding of the truth.  We feel neither pleasure nor pain. We are as if we were not. The dead have no existence here except such as the living land them. Nevertheless I prefer to remain here. But what reason didst thou give, O Virgil, for so strange a refusal? I gave excellent ones. I said to the messenger of the god that I did not deserve the honor he brought me, and that a meaning had been given to my verses which they did not bear. In truth I have not in my fourth eclog betrayed the faith of my ancestors. Some ignorant Jews alone have interpreted in favour of a barbarian god, a verse which celebrates the return of the golden age predicted by the sibling oracles. I excused myself then on the ground that I could not occupy a place which was destined for me in error and to which I recognized that I had no right. Then I alleged my disposition and my tastes which do not accord with the customs of the new heavens. I am not unsociable, said I to this man. I have shown in life a complacent and easy disposition, although the extreme simplicity of my habits caused me to be suspected of avarice. I kept nothing for myself alone. My library was open to all, and I have conformed my conduct to that fine saying of Euripides, all ought to be common among friends. Those praises that seemed obtrusive when I myself received them became agreeable to me when addressed to Various or to Massare, but at bottom I am rustic and uncultivated. I take pleasure in the society of animals. I was so zealous in observing them and took so much care of them that I was regarded, not altogether wrongly, as a good veterinary surgeon. I am told that the people of thy sect claim an immortal soul for themselves, and refuse one to the animals.  Perhaps I love the flocks and the shepherds a little too much. That will not seem right amongst you. There is a maxim to which I endeavour to conform my actions, nothing too much. More even than my feeble health my philosophy teaches me to use things with measure. I am sober. I'll let us in some olives with a drop of phalernean wine form all my meals. I have indeed, to some extent, gone with strange women, but I have not delayed over long in taverns to watch the young Syrians dance to the sound of the crotallum. The author notes that this phrase seems to indicate that if one is to believe Macrobius the copa is by Virgil, and then he continues. But if I have restrained my desires it was for my own satisfaction and for the sake of good discipline. To fear pleasure and to fly from joy appears to me the worst insult that one can offer to nature. I am assured that during their lives certain of the elect of thy God abstained from food and avoided women through love of asceticism and voluntarily exposed themselves to useless sufferings. I should be afraid of meeting those, criminals whose frenzy horrifies me. A poet must not be asked to attach himself too strictly to any scientific of moral doctrine. Moreover I am a Roman, and the Romans, unlike the Greeks, are unable to pursue profound speculations in a subtle manner. If they adopt a philosophy it is above all in order to derive some practical advantages from it. Ciro, who enjoyed great renown among us, taught me the system of Epicurus and thus freed me from vain terrors, and turned me aside from the cruelties to which religion persuades ignorant men. I have embraced the views of Pythagoras concerning the souls of men and animals, both of which are of divine essence. This invites us to look upon ourselves without pride and without shame. I have learned from Alexandrenes how the earth, at first soft and without form, hardened in proportion as Narius withdrew himself from it to dig his humid dwellings. I have learned how things were formed insensibly, in what manner the rains falling from the burdened clouds nourished the silent forests, and by what progress a few animals at last began to wander over the nameless mountains. I could not accustom myself to your cosmogony, either, for it seems to me fitter for a camel-driver on the Syrian sands than for a disciple of Aristarchus of Samos. And what would become of me in the abode of your beatitude if I did not find there my friends, my ancestors, my masters, and my gods? And if it is not given to me to see Ray as noble son, or Venus mother of Aeneas, with her winning smile, or Pan, or the young dryads, or the Sylvans, or Old Solanus, with his face stained by ageless purple mulberries? These are the reasons which I vague that simple man to plead before the successor of Jupiter. And since then, O great shade, thou hast received no other messages. I have received none. To console themselves for thy absence, O Virgil, they have three poets, Comodianus, Prudentius, and Fortunatus, who were all three born in those dark plays when neither prosody nor grammar were known. But tell me, O Mantuan, as thou never received other intelligence of the God, whose company thou did so deliberately refuse? Never that I remember. As thou not told me that I am not the first to descend it alive into these abodes and present it himself before thee, thou dost remind me of it. A century and a half ago, or so it seems to me, it is difficult to reckon days and years amid the shades, my profound peace was intruded upon by a strange visitor. As I was wandering beneath the gloomy foliage that borders the cheeks, I saw rising before me a human form more opaque and darker than that of the inhabitants of these shores. I recognized a living person. He was of high stature, thin with an aquiline nose, sharp chin and hollow cheeks. His dark eyes shot forth fire, a red hood girt with a crown of laurels bound his lean brows. His bones pierced through the tight brown cloak that descended to his heels. He saluted me with deference, tempered by a sort of fierce pride, and addressed me in a speech more obscure and incorrect than that of those Gauls with whom the Divine Julius filled both his legions in the Curia. At last I understood that he had been born near Fiasole, in an ancient Etruscan colony that Sulla had founded on the banks of the Arno, in which had prospered, that he had obtained municipal honors, but that he had thrown himself vehemently into the sanguinary quarrels which arose between the Senate or the knights and the people, that he had been defeated and banished, but now he wandered in exile throughout the world. He described Italy to me as distracted by more wars and discords than in the time of my youth, and as sighing anew for a second Augustus. I pitied his misfortune, remembering what I myself had formerly endured. An audacious spirit unceasingly disquieted him, and his mind harbored great thoughts, but alas his rudeness and ignorance displayed the triumph of barbarism he knew neither poetry nor science, or even the tongue of the Greeks, and he was ignorant, too, of the ancient traditions concerning the origin of the world and the nature of the gods. He bravely repeated fables which, in my time, would have brought smiles to the little children who were not yet old enough to pay for admission at the baths, the vulgar easily believe in monsters, the Etruscans especially people held with demons, hideous as a sick man's dreams, that they have not abandoned their childish imaginings after so many centuries as explained by the continuation and progress of ignorance and misery, but that one of their magistrates, whose mind is raised above the common level, should share these popular illusions, and should be frightened by the hideous demons that the inhabitants of that country painted on the walls of their tombs in the time of Porcena, that is something which might sadden even a sage. My Etruscan visitor repeated verses to me which he had composed in a new dialect, called by him the vulgar tongue, the sense of which I could not understand. My ears were more surprised than charmed as I heard him repeat the same sound three or four times at regular intervals in his efforts to mark the rhythm. That artifice did not seem ingenious to me, but it is not for the dead to judge of novelties. But I do not reproach this colonist of Sulla, born in an unhappy time, for making inharmonious verses or for being, if it be possible, as bad a poet as Bavius or Mavius. I have grievances against him which touch me more closely. The thing is monstrous and scarcely credible, but when this man returned to earth, he disseminated the most odious lies about me.  He insolently proclaimed that I had spoken of the gods of Rome as false and lying gods, and that I held as the true god the present successor of Jupiter. Friend, when thou art restored to the kindly light of day, and beholdest again thy native land, contradict those abominable falsehoods. Say to thy people that the singer of the pious Aeneas has never worshipped the god of the Jews. I am assured that his power is declining, and that his approaching fall is manifested by undoubted indications. This news would give me some pleasure, if one could rejoice in these abodes where we feel neither fears nor desires. He spoke, and with a gesture of farewell he went away. I beheld his shade gliding over the Asphodels without bending their stalks. I saw that it became fainter and vaguer as it receded farther from me, and it vanished before it reached the wood of evergreen laurels. Then I understood the meaning of the words, the dead have no life, but that which the living lend them, and I walked slowly through the pale meadow to the gate of Horn. I affirmed that all in this writing is true. The author adds here. There is in Marbodius's narrative a passage very worthy of notice. For example, that in which the monk of Corrigan describes Dante Alegari, such as we picture him to ourselves today. The miniature is in a very old manuscript of the Divine Comedy, the Codex Venetianus, represent the poet as a little fat man clad in a short tunic, the skirts of which fall above his knees. As for Virgil he still wears the philosophical beard in the wood engravings of the sixteenth century. Then the author concludes by saying, One would not have thought either that Marbodius or even Virgil could have known the Etruscan tombs of Tiusi and Corneto, where in fact there are horrible and burlesque devils closely resembling those of Organa. Nevertheless the authenticity of the descent of Marbodius into hell is indisputable. M'chur de Claude Lune has firmly established it. To doubt it would be to doubt paleography itself. CHAPTER VII SIGNS IN THE MOON At that time, whilst Pinguinia was still plunged in ignorance and barbarism, Giles Birdcatcher, a Franciscan monk known by his writings under the name Agidius a.c., devoted himself with indefatigable zeal to the study of letters and the sciences. He gave his knights to mathematics and music, which he called the two adorable sisters, the harmonious daughters of number and imagination. He was versed in medicine and astrology, he was suspected of practicing magic, and it seemed true that he wrought metamorphoses and discovered hidden things. The monks of his convent, finding in his cell Greek books which they could not read, imagined them to be conjuring books and denounced their two-learned brother as a wizard. Agidius a.c. fled and reached the island of Ireland where he lived for thirty studious years. He went from monastery to monastery, searching for and copying the Greek and Latin manuscripts which they contained. He also studied physics and alchemy, he acquired a universal knowledge and discovered notable secrets concerning animals, plants, and stones. He was found one day in the company of a very beautiful woman who sang to her own accompaniment on the lute, and who was afterwards discovered to be a machine which he had himself constructed. He often crossed the Irish Sea to go into the land of Wales and to visit the libraries of the monasteries there. During one of these crossings, as he remained during the night on the bridge of the ship, he saw beneath the waters two sturgeons swimming side by side. He had very good hearing, and he knew the language of fishes. Now he heard one of the sturgeons say to the other, The man in the moon, whom we have often seen carrying faggots on his shoulders, has fallen into the sea. And the other sturgeon said in its turn, and in the silver disk there will be seen the image of two lovers kissing each other on the mouth. Some years later having returned to his native country, Agidius a.c. found that ancient learning had been restored. Men no longer pursued the nymphs of the fountains, of the woods and of the mountains with their insults. They placed images of the muses and of the modest graces in their gardens, and they rendered her former honors to the goddess with ambrosial lips, the joy of men and gods. They were becoming reconciled to nature. They trampled vain terrors beneath their feet and raised their eyes to heaven without fearing, as they formally did, to read signs of anger and threats of damnation in the skies. This spectacle, Agidius a.c. remembered with the two sturgeons of the Sea of Aeron had foretold. End of Chapter 7 and the end of Book 3. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Serois. Michael.serois, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book 4 Modern Times, Trinco. Book 4, Chapter 1, Mother Roquine. Agidius a.c. the Erasmus of the Penguins was not mistaken. His age was an age of free inquiry. But that great man mistook the elegances of the humanists for softness of manners. And he did not foresee the effects that the Awaking of Intelligence would have amongst the Penguins. It brought about the religious reformation. Catholics massacred Protestants, and Protestants massacred Catholics. Such were the first results of liberty of thought. The Catholics prevailed in Penguinia, but the spirit of inquiry had penetrated among them without their knowing it. They joined reason to faith, and claimed that religion had been divested of the superstitious practices that dishonored it, just as in later days the booths that the cobblers, hucksters, and dealers in old clothes had built against the walls of the cathedrals were cleared away. The word legend, which at first indicated what the faithful ought to read, soon suggested the idea of pious fables and childish tales. The saints had to suffer from this state of mind. An obscure canon called Prince Toe, a very austere and crabbed man, designated so great a number of them as not worthy of having their days observed that he was surnamed the Exposer of the Saints. He did not think, for instance, that if St. Margaret's prayer were applied as a poultice to a woman in travail that the pains of childbirth would be softened. Even the venerable patron saint of Penguinia did not escape his rigid criticism. This is what he says of her in his Antiquities of Alca. Nothing is more uncertain than the history, or even the existence of St. Orbarosia. An ancient, anonymous analyst, a monk of Dombay, relates that a woman called Orbarosia was possessed by the devil in a cavern, where even down to his own days the little boys and girls of the village used to play at a sort of game representing the devil in the fair Orbarosia. He adds that this woman became the concubine of a horrible dragon who ravaged the country. Such a statement is hardly credible, but the history of Orbarosia, as it has been related, seems hardly more worthy of belief. The life of that saint by the abbot Simplicisimus is three hundred years later than the pretended events which it relates, and that author shows himself excessively credulous and devoid of all critical faculty. Suspicion attacked even the supernatural origin of the penguins. The historian Ovidius Capito went so far as to deny the miracle of their transformation. He thus begins his annals of Penguinia. Dense obscurity envelops this history, and it would be no exaggeration to say that it is a tissue of barile fables and popular tales. The penguins claim that they are descended from birds, who were baptized by saint male, and whom God changed into men at the intercession of that glorious apostle. They hold that, situated at first in the frozen ocean, their island, floating like Delos, was brought to anchor in these heaven-favored seas, of which it is today the queen. I conclude that this myth is a reminiscence of the ancient migrations of the penguins. In the following century, which was that of the philosophers, skepticism became still more acute. No further evidence of it is needed than the following celebrated passage from the moral essay. Arriving we know not from Wenz, for indeed their origins are not very clear, and successively invaded and conquered by four or five peoples from the north, south, east, and west, miscegenated, interbred, amalgamated, and commingled, the penguins boast of the purity of their race, and with justice, for they have become a pure race. The mixture of all mankind, red, black, yellow, and white, round-headed, and long-headed, has formed in the course of ages a fairly homogenous human family, and one which is recognizable by certain features due to a community of life and customs. This idea that they belong to the best race in the world, and that they are its finest family, inspires them with noble pride, indomitable courage, and a hatred for the human race. The life of a people is but a succession of miseries, crimes, and follies. This is true of the penguin nation as of all other nations. Save for this exception, its history is admirable from beginning to end. The two classic ages of the penguins are too well known for me to lay stress upon them. But what has not been sufficiently noticed is the way in which the rationalist theologians, such as Canon Prince Toe, called into existence the unbelievers of the succeeding age. The former employed their reason to destroy what did not seem to them essential to their religion. They only left untouched the most rigid article of faith. Their intellectual successors, being taught by them how to make use of science and reason, employed them against whatever beliefs remained. Thus rational theology engendered natural philosophy. That is why, if I may turn from the penguins of former days to the sovereign Pontiff, who today governs the universal church, we cannot admire too greatly the wisdom of Pope Pius X in condemning the study of exegesis as contrary to revealed truth, fatal to sound theological doctrine, and deadly to the faith. Those clerics who maintain the rights of science in opposition to him are pernicious doctors and pestilent teachers, and the faithful who approve of them are lacking in either mental or moral ballast. At the end of the age of philosophers, the ancient kingdom of Penguinia was utterly destroyed. The king put to death the privileges of the nobles abolished, and a republic proclaimed in the midst of public misfortunes, and while a terrible war was raging. The assembly, which then governed Penguinia, ordered all the metal articles contained in the churches to be melted down. The patriots even desecrated the tombs of the kings. It is said that when the tomb of Draco the Great was opened, that king presented an appearance as black as a peony, and so majestic that those who profaned his corpse fled in terror. According to other accounts these churlish men insulted him by putting a pipe in his mouth, and derisively offering him a glass of wine. On the seventeenth day of the month of Mayflowers, the shrine of Saint Orbarosia, which had for five hundred years been exposed to the veneration of the faithful in the Church of Saint Male, was transported into the town hall, and submitted to the examination of a jury of experts appointed by the municipality. It was made of gilded copper in shape like the nave of a church, entirely covered with enamels and decorated with precious stones, which latter were perceived to be false. The chapter in its foresight had removed the rubies, sapphires, emeralds, and great balls of rock crystal, and had substituted pieces of glass in their place. It contained only a little dust and a piece of old linen, which were thrown into a great fire that had been lighted on the Plasta Grave to burn the relics of the saints. The people danced around it singing patriotic songs. From the threshold of their booth, which leaned against the town hall, a man called Rokin and his wife were watching this group of madmen. Rokin clipped dogs and gilded cats. He also frequented the inns. His wife was a rag-picker and a bawd, but she had plenty of shrewdness. "'You see, Rokin,' said she to her man, "'they are committing a sacrilege. They will repent of it.' "'You know nothing about it, wife,' answered Rokin. "'They have become philosophers, and when one is once a philosopher, he's a philosopher forever.'"  They ill-treat the saints because they have not helped them enough, but for all that the quails won't fall already cooked into their mouths, they will soon find themselves as badly off as before, and when they have put out their tongues for enough, they will become pious again. Sooner than people think the day will come when Pinguinia will again begin to honor her blessed patron. Rokin, it would be a good thing, in readiness for that day, if we kept a handful of ashes and some rags and bones in an old pot in our lodgings. We will say that they are the relics of St. Orbarosia, and that we have saved them from the flames at the peril of our lives. I am greatly mistaken if we don't get honor and profit out of them. That good action might be worth a place from the Curay to sell tapers and higher chairs in the Chapel of St. Orbarosia. On that same day Mother Rokin took home with her little ashes and some bones, and put them in an old jam-pot in her cupboard. End of Book 4, Chapter 1. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, .com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book 4, Modern Times, Trinco. Book 4, Chapter 2, Trinco. The sovereign nation had taken possession of the lands of the nobility and clergy to sell them at a low price to the middle classes and the peasants. The middle classes and the peasants thought that the revolution was a good thing for acquiring lands and a bad one for retaining them. The legislators of the Republic made terrible laws for the defense of property and decreed death to anyone who should propose a division of wealth, but that did not avail the Republic. The peasants who had become proprietors bethought themselves that, though it had made them rich, the Republic had nevertheless caused a disturbance to wealth, and they desired a system more respectful of private property and more capable of assuring the permanence of the new institutions. They had not long to wait. The Republic, like Agrippina, bore her destroyer in her bosom. During great wars to carry on, it created military forces, and these were destined both to save it and to destroy it. Its legislators thought they could restrain their generals by the fear of punishment, but if they sometimes cut off the heads of unlucky soldiers, they could not do the same to the fortunate soldiers who obtained over it the advantages of having saved its existence. In the enthusiasm of victory, the renovated penguins delivered themselves up to a dragon more terrible than that of their fables, who, like a stork amongst frogs, devoured them for fourteen years with his insatiable beak. Half a century after the reign of the new dragon, a young Maharaja of Malay called Jambi, desirous like the Scythian Anacarsis of instructing himself by travel, visited Penguinia and wrote an interesting account of his travels. I transcribed the first page of his account. Account of the Travels of Young Jambi in Penguinia. After a voyage of ninety days, I landed at the vast and deserted port of the penguins, and traveled over untilled fields to their ruined capital. Surrounded by ramparts and full of barracks and arsenals, it had a marshal though desolate appearance. Feeble and crippled men wandered proudly through the streets, wearing old uniforms and carrying rusty weapons. What do you want? I was rudely asked at the gate of the city by a soldier whose moustache is pointed to the skies. Sir, I answered, I come as an inquirer to visit this island. It is not an island, replied the soldier. What? I exclaimed, Penguin Island is not an island? No, sir, it is an insula. It was formerly called an island, but for a century it has been decreed that it shall bear the name of insula. It is the only insula in the whole universe. Have you a passport? Here it is. Go and get it signed at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs. A lame guide who conducted me came to a pause in a vast square. The insula, said he, has given birth as you know to Trinko, the greatest genius of the universe, whose statue you see before you. That obelisk standing to your right commemorates Trinko's birth. The column that rises to your left has Trinko crowned with a diadem upon its summit. You see here the triumphal arch dedicated to the glory of Trinko and his family. What extraordinary feat has Trinko performed? I asked. War. That is nothing extraordinary. Many Malayans make war constantly. That may be, but Trinko is the greatest warrior of all countries and all times. There has never existed a greater conqueror than he. As you anchored in our port you sought to the east of volcanic island called Amphalophoria, shaped like a cone, and of small size but renowned for its wines, and to the west a larger island which rises to the sky a long range of sharp teeth. For this reason it is called the dog's jaws. It is rich in copper mines. We possessed both before Trinko's reign and they were the boundaries of our empire. Trinko extended the penguin dominion over the archipelago of the turquoises and the green continent, subdued the gloomy porpoises, and planted his flag amid the icebergs of the pole and on the burning sands of the African deserts. He raised troops in all the countries he conquered, and when his armies marched past in the wake of our own light infantry, our island grenadiers, our hussars, our bragoons, our artillery, and our engineers, there were to be seen yellow soldiers looking in their blue armor like crayfish standing on their tails, red men with parrot's plumes, tattooed with solar and phallic emblems, and with quivers of poisoned arrows resounding on their backs, naked blacks armed only with their teeth and nails, pygmies riding on cranes, gorillas carrying trunks of trees and led by an old ape who wore upon his military breast the cross of the Legion of Honor, and all those troops led to Trinko's banner by the most ardent patriotism flew on from victory to victory, and in thirty years of war Trinko conquered half the known world. What, cried I? You possess half of the world? Trinko conquered it for us, and Trinko lost it to us. As great in his defeats as in his victories, he surrendered all that he had conquered. He even allowed those two islands we possessed before his time, Amphalophoria and the dog's jaws, to be taken from us. He left Pinguinia impoverished and depopulated. The flower of the insula perished in his wars. At the time of his fall there were left in our country none but the hunchbacks and cripples from whom we are descended, but he gave us glory. He made you pay dearly for it. Glory never costs too much, replied my guide. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirwa, Michael.Sirwa, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole, France. Book Four, Modern Times, Trinko. Book Four, Chapter Three, The Journey of Dr. Abnubil After a succession of amazing vicissitudes, the memory of which is in great part lost by the wrongs of time and the bad style of historians, the penguins established the government of the penguins, by themselves. They elected a diet or assembly, and invested it with the privilege of naming the head of state. The latter, chosen from among the simple penguins, wore no formidable monsters crest upon his head, and exercised no absolute authority over the people. He was himself subject to the laws of the nation. He was not given the title of king, and no ordinal number followed his name. He bore such names as Patourle, Jean-Vionne, Traffoldin, Coquineau, and Breduy. These magistrates did not make war. They were not suited for that. The new state received the name of public thing, or republic. Its partisans were called republicanists, or republicans. They were also named thingmongers and sometimes scamps, but this latter name was taken an ill part. The penguin democracy did not itself govern. It obeyed a financial oligarchy, which formed opinion by means of the newspapers, and held in its hands the representatives, the ministers, and the president. It controlled the finances of the republic, and directed the foreign affairs of the country as if it were possessed of sovereign power. Empires and kingdoms in those days kept up enormous elites. Penguinia, compelled to do as they did, sank under the pressure of her armaments. Everybody deplored, or pretended to deplore, so grievous a necessity. However the rich, and those engaged in business or affairs, submitted to it with a good heart, through a spirit of patriotism, and because they counted on the soldiers and sailors to defend their goods at home, and to acquire markets and territories abroad. The great manufacturers encouraged the making of cannons and ships through a zeal for the national defense, and in order to obtain orders. Among the citizens of Middle Rank and of the liberal professions some resigned themselves to this state of affairs without complaining, believing that it would last forever. Others waited impatiently for its end, and thought they might be able to lead the powers to a simultaneous disarmament. The illustrious professor Abnobeel belonged to this latter class. War, said he, is a barbarity to which the progress of civilization will put an end. The great democracies are pacific, and will soon impose their will upon the aristocrats. Professor Abnobeel, who had for sixty years led a solitary and retired life in his laboratory, with her external noises did not penetrate, resolved to observe the spirit of the peoples for himself. He began his studies with the greatest of all democracies, and set sail for New Atlantis. After a voyage of fifteen days his steamer entered during the night the harbor of Titanport, where thousands of ships were anchored. An iron bridge thrown across the water and shining with lights stretched between two piers so far apart that Professor Abnobeel imagined he was sailing on the seas of Saturn, and that he saw the marvellous ring which girds the planet of the old man, and this immense conduit bore upon it more than a quarter of the wealth of the world. The learned penguin, having disembarked, was weighted on by automatons in a hotel forty-eight stories high. Then he took the great railway that led to Gigantopolis, the capital of New Atlantis. In the train there were restaurants, gaming rooms, athletic arenas, telegraphic, commercial and financial offices, a Protestant church, and the printing office of a great newspaper, which latter the doctor was unable to read, as he did not know the language of the New Atlantans. The train passed along the banks of great rivers, through manufacturing cities which concealed the sky with the smoke from their chimneys, towns black in the day, towns red at night, full of noise by day and full of noise also by night. Here, thought the doctor, is a people far too much engaged in industry and trade to make war. I am already certain that the New Atlantans pursue a policy of peace, for it is an axiom admitted by all economists that peace without and peace within are necessary for the progress of commerce and industry. As he surveyed Gigantopolis, he was confirmed in this opinion. People went through the streets so swiftly propelled by hurry that they knocked down all who were in their way. Abnobeel was thrown down several times, but soon succeeded in learning how to demean himself better. After an hour's walking he himself knocked down an Atlantan. Having reached a great square he saw the portico of a palace in the classic style, whose Corinthian columns reared their capitals of Arbares and Acanthus, seventy meters above the Stylabate. As he stood with his head thrown back admiring the building, a man of modest appearance approached him and said in Penguin, I see by your dress that you are from Penguinia. I know your language. I am a sworn interpreter. This is the Parliament Palace. At the present moment the representatives of the states are in deliberation. Would you like to be present at the sitting? The doctor was brought into the hall and cast his looks upon the crowd of legislators, who were sitting on cane chairs with their feet upon their desks. The president arose and in the midst of general inattention muttered rather than spoke the following formulas which the interpreter immediately translated to the doctor. The war for the opening of the Mongol markets being ended to the satisfaction of the states, I propose that the accounts be laid before the finance committee. Is there any opposition? The proposal is carried. The war for the opening of the markets of Third Zealand being ended to the satisfaction of the states, I propose that the accounts be laid before the finance committee. Is there any opposition? The proposal is carried. Have I heard a right? asked Professor Abnabil. What? You, an industrial people and engaged in all these wars? Certainly, answered the interpreter. These are industrial wars.  The number of wars necessarily increases with our productive activity. As soon as one of our industries fails to find a market for its products, a war is necessary to open new outlets. It is in this way we have had a coal war, a copper war, and a cotton war. In Third Zealand we have killed two-thirds of the inhabitants in order to compel the remainder to buy our umbrellas and braces.  I claim, said he, a war against the Emerald Republic, which insolently contends with our pigs for the hegemony of hams and sauces in all the markets of the universe. Who is that legislator? asked Dr. Abnabil.  Is there any opposition? said the President. I put the proposition to the vote. The war against the Emerald Republic was voted with uplifted hands by a very large majority. What? said Abnabil to the interpreter. You have voted a war with that rapidity and that indifference? Oh, it is an unimportant war which will hardly cost eight million dollars. And men? the men are included in the eight million dollars. Then Dr. Abnabil bent his head in bitter reflection. Since wealth and civilization admit of as many causes of wars as poverty and barbarism, since the folly and wickedness of men are incurable, there remains but one good action to be done. The wise man will collect enough dynamite to blow up this planet. When its fragments fly through space, an imperceptible amelioration will be accomplished in the universe, and a satisfaction will be given to the universal conscience. Moreover, this universal conscience does not exist. End of Chapter 3 and the end of Book 4. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirois. Michael.Sirois, S-I-R-O-I-S, dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book 5, Modern Times. Chatillon. Book 5, Chapter 1. The Reverend Fathers Agaric and Corn News. Every system of government produces people who are dissatisfied. The republic, or public thing, produced them at first from among the nobles who had been despoiled of their ancient privileges. These looked with regret and hoped Prince Crucho, the last of the Drakenites, a prince adorned both with the grace of youth and the melancholy of exile. It also produced them from among the smaller traders, who, owing to profound economic causes, no longer gained a livelihood. They believed that this was the fault of the republic, which they had at first adored, and from which each day they were now becoming more detached. The financiers, both Christians and Jews, became by their insolence and their cupidity the scourge of the country, which they plundered and degraded, as well as the scandal of a government which they never troubled either to destroy or preserve, so confident were they that they could operate without hindrance under all governments. Nevertheless, their sympathies inclined to absolute power as the best protection against the socialists, their puny but ardent adversaries, and just as they imitated the habits of the aristocrats, so they imitated their political and religious sentiments. Their women, in particular, loved the prince and had dreams of appearing one day at his court. However, the republic retained some partisans and defenders. If it was not in a position to believe in the fidelity of its own officials, it could at least count on the devotion of the manual laborers, although it had never relieved their misery. These came forth in crowds from the quarries and their factories to defend it, and marched in long processions, gloomy, emaciated, and sinister. They would have died for it because it had given them hope. Now, under the presidency of Theodore Formos, there lived in a peaceable suburb of Alka, a monk called Agaric, who kept a school and assisted in arranging marriages. In his school he taught fencing and riding to the sons of old families, illustrious by their birth, but now as destitute of wealth as of privilege. And as soon as they were old enough, he married them to the daughters of the opulent and despised cast of financiers. Tall, thin, and dark, Agaric used to walk in deep thought with his breviary in his hand and his brow loaded with care through the corridors of the school and the alleys of the garden. His care was not limited to inculcating in his pupils abstruse doctrines and mechanical precepts and to endowing them afterwards with legitimate and rich wives. He entertained political designs and pursued the realization of a gigantic plan. His thought of thoughts and labor of labors was to overthrow the Republic. He was not moved to this by any personal interest. He believed that a democratic state was opposed to the Holy Society to which body and soul he belonged. And all the other monks, his brethren, thought the same. The Republic was perpetually at strife with the congregation of monks and the assembly of the faithful. True to plot the death of the new government was a difficult and perilous enterprise. Still, Agaric was in a position to carry on a formidable conspiracy. At that epoch, when the clergy guided the superior classes of the penguins, this monk exercised a tremendous influence over the aristocracy of Alka. All the young men whom he had brought up waited only for a favorable moment to march against the popular power. The sons of the ancient families did not practice the arts or engage in business. They were almost all soldiers and served the Republic. They served it, but they did not love it. They regretted the dragon's crest. And the fair juices shared in these regrets in order that they might be taken for Christians. One July, as he was walking in a suburban street which ended in some dusty fields, Agaric heard groans coming from a moss-grown well that had been abandoned by the gardeners. And almost immediately he was told by a cobbler of the neighborhood that a ragged man who had shouted out, Hurrah for the Republic had been thrown into the well by some cavalry officers who were passing and had sunk up to his ears in the mud. Agaric was quite ready to see a general significance in this particular fact. He inferred a great fermentation in the whole aristocratic and military cast and concluded that it was the moment to act. The next day he went to the end of the wood of Connells to visit the good father Cornmuse. He found the monk in his laboratory pouring a golden-colored liquor into a still.   He graciously saluted his visitor and offered him a glass of the St. Orbarosian liqueur which he manufactured and from the sale of which he gained immense well. Agaric made a gesture of refusal. Then, standing on his long feet and pressing his melancholy hat against his stomach, he remained silent. Take a seat, said Cornmuse to him. Agaric sat down on a rickety stool but continued mute. Then the monk of Connells inquired, Tell me some news of your young pupils. Have the dear children sound views? I am very satisfied with them, answered the teacher. It is everything to be nurtured in sound principles. It is necessary to have sound views before having any views at all. For afterwards it is too late. Yes, I have great grounds for comfort, but we live in a sad age. Alas! sighed Cornmuse. We are passing through evil days. The people are tired of a government that ruins them and does nothing for them. Every day fresh scandals spring up. The republic is sunk in shame. It is ruined. May God grant it. Cornmuse, what do you think of Prince Crucho? He is an amiable young man and, I dare say, a worthy siren of an august stock. He is an amiable young man, and I dare say, a worthy siren of an august stock. I pity him for having to endure the pains of exile at so early an age. Spring has no flowers for the exile, autumn no fruits. Prince Crucho has sound views. He respects the clergy. He practices our religion. Besides, he consumes a good deal of my little products. Cornmuse, in many homes, both rich and poor, his return is hoped for. Believe me, he will come back. May I live to throw my mantle beneath his feet, sighed Cornmuse. Seeing that he held these sentiments, Agaric depicted to him the state of people's minds such as he himself imagined them. He showed him the nobles and the rich exasperated against the popular government, the army refusing to endure fresh insults, the officials willing to portray their chiefs, the people discontented, riot ready to burst forth, and the enemies of the monks, the agents of the wells of Alka. He concluded that it was the moment to strike a great blow. We can, he cried, saved the penguin people. We can deliver it from its tyrants, deliver it from itself, restore the dragon's crest, reestablish the ancient state, the good state, for the honor of the faith and the exaltation of the church. We can do this if we will. We possess great wealth and we exert secret influences. By our evangelistic and outspoken generals, we communicate with all the ecclesiastics in towns and county alike. And we inspire them with our own eager enthusiasm and our own burning faith. They will kindle their penitents in their congregations. I can dispose of the chiefs of the army. I have an understanding with the men of the people. Unknown to them, I sway the minds of umbrella sellers, publicans, shopmen, gutter merchants, newspaper boys, women of the streets and police agents. We have more people on our side than we need. What are we waiting for? Let us act. What do you think of doing? Asked Cornmews. Of forming a vast conspiracy and overthrowing the Republic. Of re-establishing Crucho on the throne of the Draconites. Cornmews moistened his lips with his tongue several times. Then he set with unction. Certainly the restoration of the Draconites is desirable. It is eminently and from my part, desire it with all my heart. As for the Republic, you know what I think of it. But would it not be better to abandon it to its fate and let it die of the vices of its own constitution? Doubtless agoric what you propose is noble and generous. It would be a fine thing to save this great and unhappy country to re-establish it in its ancient splendor. But reflect on it. We are Christians before we are penguins, and we must take heed not to compromise religion and political enterprises. Agoric replied eagerly, hear nothing. We shall hold all the threads of the plot. But we ourselves shall remain in the background. We shall not be seen. Like flies and milk murmured the monk of Connells, and turning his keen ruby-colored eyes towards his brother-monk, take care. Perhaps the Republic is stronger than it seems. Possibly, too, by dragging it out of the nervous inertia in which it now may only consolidate its forces. Its malice is great. If we attack it, it will defend itself. It makes bad laws which hardly affect us. If it is frightened, it will make terrible ones against us. Let us not lightly engage in an adventure in which we may get pleased. You think the opportunity a good one. I don't, and I am going to tell you why. The present government is not yet known by everybody, that is to say it is known by nobody. It proclaims that it is the public thing, the common thing. The populist believes it and remains Democratic and Republican. But patience —this same people will one day demand that the public thing be the people's thing. I need not tell you how insolent, unregulated and contrary to scriptural polity such claims seem to me, but the people will make them and enforce them, and then there will be an end of the present government. The moment cannot now be far distant, and it is then that we ought to act in the interests of our august body. Let us wait. What hurries us? Our existence is not in peril. It has not been rendered absolutely intolerable to us. The Republic fails in respect and submission to us. It does not give the priests the honors it owes them, but it lets us live. And such is the excellence of opposition that with us to live is to prosper. The Republic is hostile to us, but women fear us. Resident, for most, does not assist at the celebration of our mysteries. But I have seen his wife and daughters at my feet. They buy my files by the gross. I have no better clients, even among the aristocracy. Let us say what there is to be said for it. There is no country in the world as good for priests and monks as Pinguinia. In what other country would you find our virgin wax are? Virile incense, our rosaries, our scapulars, our holy water, our saint or borosian liqueur sold in such great quantities. What other people would, like the penguins, give a hundred golden crowns for a wave of our hands, the sound from our mouths, a movement of our lips? For my part I gain a thousand times more in this pleasant faithful and docile Pinguinia by extracting the essence from a bundle of time than I could make by tiring my lungs with preaching the remission of sins in the most open America. Honestly, would Pinguinia be better off if a police officer came to take me away from here and put me on a steamboat bound for the islands of night? Having thus spoken, the monk of Connells got up and led his guest into a huge shed where hundreds of orphans, clothed in blue were packing bottles, nailing up cases and gumming tickets. The ear was deafened by the noise of hammers mingled with the dull rumbling of bales being placed here that consignments are forwarded, said Cornmuse. I have obtained from the government a railway through the wood and a station at my door. Every three days I fill a truck with my own products. You see that the Republic has not killed all beliefs. Agaric made a last effort to engage the wise distillery in his enterprise. He pointed him to a prompt at certain dazzling success. Don't you wish to share in it? he added. Don't you wish to bring him from Exile? Exile is pleasant to men of good will, answered the monk of Connells. If you are guided by me, my dear brother Agaric, you will give up your project for the present. For my own part I have no illusions whether or not I belong to your party. If you lose, I shall have to pay like you. Father Agaric took leave of his friend and went back satisfied to his school. Cornmuse thought he, not being able to grant the plot, would like to make it succeed and he will give money. Agaric was not deceived. Such indeed was the solidarity among priests and monks, but the acts of a single one bound them all. That was at once both their strength and their weakness. End of book 5, chapter 1 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer this reading is by Michael Sirois Michael.sirois s-i-r-o-i-s dot com Penguin Island by Anatole France. Book 5 Modern Times, Châtillon Book 5, chapter 2 Prince Crucho Agaric resolved to proceed without delay to Prince Crucho, who honored him with his familiarity. In the dusk of the evening he went out of his school by the side door, disguised as a cattle merchant and took passage to the Saint-Mail. The next day he landed in Porpoisea, where it was at Chitterling's castle on the suspittable soil that Crucho ate the bitter bread of exile. Agaric met the prince on the road, driving in a motor-car with two young ladies, at the rate of a hundred miles an hour. When the monks saw him he shook his red umbrella and the prince stopped his car. Is it you, Agaric? Get in! There are already three of us, but we can make room for you. You can take one of these young ladies on when the highest Agaric got in. What news, worthy father, asked the young prince. Great news, answered Agaric. Can I speak? You can. I have nothing secret from these two ladies. Sire, Penguinia claims you. You will not be deaf to her call. Agaric described the state of feeling and outlined a vast plot. On my first signal, said he, all your partisans will rise at once. With cross in hand and habits your venerable clergy will lead the armed crowd into Formos' palace. We shall carry terror and death among your enemies. For a reward of our efforts we only ask of you, Sire, that you will not render them useless. We entreat you to come and seat yourself on the throne that we shall prepare. The prince returned a simple answer. I shall enter Alka on a green horse. Agaric declared that he accepted this manly response, although contrary to his custom he had a lady he adjured the young prince with a sublime loftiness of soul to be faithful to his royal duties. Sire, he cried with tears in his eyes, you will live to remember the day on which you have been restored from exile, given back to your people, re-established on the throne of your ancestors by the hands of your monks and crowned by them with the august crest of the dragon. King Crucho, may you equal the glory of your ancestor, Draco the Great. The young prince threw himself in a position on his restorer and attempted to embrace him, but he was prevented from reaching him by the girth of the two ladies so tightly packed where they all in that historic carriage. Where the father, said he, I would like all Penguinia to witness this embrace. It would be a cheering spectacle, said Agaric. In the meantime the motor-car rushed like a tornado through hamlets and villages, crushing hens, geese, turkeys, ducks, guinea fowls, cats, dogs, pigs, children, laborers, and women beneath its insatiable tires. And the pious Agaric turned over his great designs in his mind. His voice coming from behind one of the ladies expressed this thought, we must have money, a great deal of money. That is your business, answered the prince, but already the park gates were opening to the formidable motor-car. The dinner was sumptuous. They toasted the dragon's crest. Everybody knows that a closed goblet is a sign of sovereignty, so Prince Crucho and Princess Gudrun, his wife, drank out of goblets that were covered over like saboreums. The prince had his filled several times with the wines of Penguinia, both white and red. Crucho had received a truly princely education, and he excelled in motoring, but he was not ignorant of history either. He was said to be well versed in antiquities and famous deeds of his family, and indeed he gave a notable proof of his knowledge in this respect. As they were speaking of the various remarkable peculiarities that had been noticed in famous women, it is perfectly true, said he, that Queen Crucha, whose name I bear, had the mark of a little monkey's head upon her body. During the evening Agaric had a decisive interview with three of the prince's oldest counsellors. It was decided to ask for funds from Crucho's father-in-law, as he was anxious to have a king for son-in-law, from several Jewish ladies, who were impatient to become ennobled, in the region of the Porpoises, who had promised his aid to the draconides, thinking that by Crucho's restoration he would weaken the penguins, the hereditary enemies of his people. The three old counsellors divided among themselves the three chief officers of the court, those of Chamberlain, Seneschal, and High Steward, and authorized the monk to distribute the other places to the prince's best advantage. Devotion has to be rewarded, said the three old counsellors, and treachery also, as it is, but too true, replied one of them, the Marquis of Seven Moons, who had experience of revolutions. There was dancing, and after the ball Prince's Gudrun tore up her green robe to make cockades. With her own hands she sewed a piece of it on the monk's breast, upon which he shed tears of sensibility and gratitude. Monsieur de Plume, the prince's equity, set out the same evening to look for a green horse. Chapter 2 This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirois. Michael.Sirois, s-i-r-o-i-s dot com. Penguin Island, by Anatole France. Book 5, Modern Times, Châtillon. Book 5, Chapter 3, After his return to the capital of Penguinia, the Reverend Father Agaric disclosed his projects to Prince Adelistan de Bosano, of whose draconian sentiments he was well aware. The prince belonged to the highest nobility. The tortical de Bosano went back to Brian the Good, and under the draconites had held the highest offices in the kingdom. In 1179, Philip Tortical, High Admiral of Penguinia, a brave, faithful, and generous, but vindictive man, delivered over the port of Luc Creek and the penguin fleet to the enemies of the kingdom because he suspected that Queen Crucha, whose lover he was, had been unfaithful to him and loved a stable boy. It was that great queen who gave to the Bosanos the silver warming pan which they bear in their arms. As for their motto, it only goes back to the sixteenth century. The story of its origin is as follows. One Galanite, as he mingled with the crowd of courtiers who were watching the fireworks in the king's garden, John de Bosano approached the Duchess of Skull and put his hand under the petticoat of that lady, who made no complaint at the gesture. The king, happening to pass, surprised them and contented himself with saying, and thus I find you, these four words became the motto of the Bosanos. Prince of Delestan had not degenerated from his ancestors. He preserved an unalterable fidelity for the race of the draconites and desired nothing so much as the restoration of Prince Crucho, an event which was, in his eyes, to be the forerunner of the restoration of his own fortune. He therefore readily entered into the Reverend Father Agaric's plans. He joined himself at once to the monk's projects and hastened to put him into communication with the most loyal royalists of his acquaintance, Count Kleina, Monsieur de Letromel, Viscount Olivier, and Monsieur Vigore. They met together one night in the Duke of Ampule's country house, six miles eastward of Alca, to consider ways and means. Monsieur de Letromel was in favor of legal action. We ought to keep within the law, said he in substance. We are for order. It is by an untiring propaganda that we shall best pursue the realization of our hopes. We must change the feeling of the country. Our cause will conquer because it is just. The Prince de Bosano expressed a contrary opinion. He thought that in order to triumph, just causes need force quite as much and even more than unjust causes require it. In the present situation, said he, tranquilly, three methods of action present themselves to hire the butcher boys, to corrupt the ministers, and to kidnap President Formos. It would be a mistake to kidnap Formos, objected Monsieur de Letromel. The President is on our side. The attitude and sentiments of the President of the Republic are explained by the fact that one Dracophile proposed to seize Formos while another Dracophile regarded him as a friend. Formos showed himself favorable to the royalists, whose habits he admired and imitated. If he smiled at the mention of the Dragon's Crest, it was at the thought of putting it on his own head. He was envious of sovereign power, not because he felt himself capable of exercising it, but because he loved to appear so. According to the expression of a penguin chronicler, he was a goose. Prince de Bosanos maintained his proposal to march against Formos' palace and the House of Parliament. Count Kleina was even still more energetic. Let us begin, said he, by slaughtering, disempowering and braining the Republicans and all partisans of the government. Afterwards we shall see what more need be done. Monsieur de Letromel was a moderate, and moderates are always moderately opposed to violence. He recognized that Count Kleina's policy was inspired by a noble feeling and that it was high-minded, but he timidly objected that perhaps it was conformable to principle and that it presented certain dangers. At last he consented to discuss it. I propose, added he, to draw up an appeal to the people. Let us show who we are. For my own part I can assure you that I shall not hide my flag in my pocket. Monsieur Bigore began to speak. Gentlemen, the penguins are dissatisfied with the new order because it exists and it is natural for men to complain of their condition, but at the same time the penguins are afraid to change their government because new things alarm them. They have not known the dragons crest and although they sometimes say that they regret it, we must not believe them. It is easy to see that they speak in this way, either without thought or because they are in ill temper. Let us not have any illusions about their feelings towards ourselves. They do not like us. They hate the aristocracy both from a base envy of equality, and these two united feelings are very strong in a people. Public opinion is not against us because it knows nothing about us, but when it knows what we want it will not follow us. If we let it be seen that we wish to destroy democratic government and restore the dragons crest, who will be our partisans? Only the butcher boys and the little shopkeepers of Alka and could we even count on them to the end? They are not satisfied, but at the bottom of their hearts they are republicans. They are more anxious to sell their cursed wares than to see Krucho again. If we act openly we shall only cause alarm. To make people sympathize with us and follow us we must make them believe that we want not to overthrow the republic but on the contrary to restore it, to cleanse, to adorn, to beautify and to ornament it, to render it in a word glorious and attractive. Therefore we ought not act openly ourselves. It is known that we are not favorable to the present order. We must have recourse to a friend of the republic and if we are to do what is best to a defender of this government we have plenty to choose from. It would be well to prefer the most popular, and if I dare say so the most republican of them, we shall win him over to us by flattery, by presence and above all by promises. Promises cost less than presents and are worth more. No one gives as much as he who gives hopes. It is not necessary for the man we choose to be a brilliant intellect. I would even prefer him to be of no great ability. This speech will show an inevitable grace in rogary. Be guided by me, gentlemen, and overthrow the republic by the agency of a republican. Let us be prudent, but prudence does not exclude energy. If you need me you will find me at your disposal. This speech made a great impression upon those who heard it. The mind of the pious agaric was particularly impressed, but each of them was anxious to appoint himself to a position of honor and profit. The sacred government was organized, of which all those present were elected active members. The Duke of Ampule, who was the great financier of the party, was chosen treasurer and charged with organizing funds for the propaganda. The meeting was on the point of coming to an end when a rough voice was heard singing an old air. It had for two hundred years been a well-known song in the slums of Alca. Prince Boussaino did not like to hear it. He went down into the street and, perceiving that the singer was a workman who was placing some slates on the roof of a church, he politely asked him to sing something else. I will sing what I like, answered the man. My friend, to please me, I don't want to please you. Prince Boussaino was as a rule good tempered, but he was easily angered and a man of great strength. Fellow, come down or I will go up to you," cried he in a terrible voice. As the workman, astride on his coping showed no sign of budging, the prince climbed quickly up the staircase of the tower and attacked the singer. Prince Boussaino was as a rule good tempered, but he was easily angered and a man of great strength. He went down the staircase of the tower and attacked the singer. He gave him a blow that broke his jawbone and sent him rolling into a water-spout. At that moment seven or eight carpenters who were working on the rafters heard their companions cry and look through the window. Seeing the prince on the coping they climbed along a ladder that was leaning on the slates and reached him just as he was slipping into the tower. They sent him head foremost down the one hundred and thirty-seven steps of the spiral staircase. CHAPTER IV. The penguins had the finest army in the world. So had the porpoises, and it was the same with the other nations of Europe. The smallest amount of thought will prevent any surprise at this, for all armies are the finest in the world. The second finest army, if one could exist, would be in a notoriously inferior position. It would be certain to be beaten. It ought to be disbanded at once. Therefore, all armies are the finest in the world. In France, the illustrious Colonel Marchand understood this when before the passage of the Yalu, being questioned by some journalists about the Russo-Japanese war, he did not hesitate to describe the Russian army as the finest in the world, and also the Japanese. And it should be noticed that even after suffering the most terrible reverses, an army does not fall from its position of being the finest in the world. For if nations ascribe their victories to the ability of their generals they always attribute their defeats to an inexplicable fatality. On the other hand, navies are classed according to the number of their ships. There is a first, a second, a third, and so on, so that there exists no doubt as to the result of naval wars. The penguins had the finest army and the second navy in the world. This navy was commanded by the famous Chatillon, who bore the title of Emeril Bar and by abbreviation Emeril. It is the same word which, unfortunately in a corrupt form, is used today among several European nations to designate the highest grade in the naval service. But as there was but one Emeril among the penguins, a singular prestige, if I dare say so, was attached to that rank. The Emeril did not belong to the nobility, a child of the people he was loved by the people. They were flattered to see a man who sprang from their own ranks holding a position of honor. Chatillon was good-looking and favored him. He was not over-addicted to thought, no event ever disturbed his serene outlook. The Reverend Father Agaric, surrendering to Monsieur Bigore's reasons and recognizing that the existing government could only be destroyed by one of its defenders, cast his eyes upon Emeril Chatillon. He asked a large sum of money from his friend, the Reverend Father Cornmuse, which the latter handed him with a sigh, and with this sum he hired six hundred butcher boys of Alca to run behind Chatillon's horse and shout, Hurrah for the Emeril! Henceforth Chatillon could not take a single step without being cheered. Bicountess Olive asked him for a private interview. He received her at the Admiralty, or better, Emerilty, in a room decorated with anchors, shells, and grenades. She was discreetly dressed in grayish blue. A hat trimmed with roses covered her pretty fair hair, behind her veil her eyes shone like sapphires. When it came of Jewish origin there was no more fashionable woman in the whole nobility. She was tall and well-shaped. Her form was that of the year, her figure that of the season. Emeril said she, in a delightful voice, I cannot conceal my emotion from you. It is very natural before a hero.  But tell me, Bicountess, what brings me the honour of your visit? For a long time I have been anxious to see you, to speak to you, so I very willingly undertook to convey a message to you. Please, take a seat. How still it is here. Yes, it is quiet enough. You can hear the birds singing. Sit down then, dear lady. And he drew up an armchair for her. She took a seat with her back to the light. Emeril, I came to bring you a very important message. A message? Explain. Emeril, have you ever seen Prince Crucho? Never. She sighed. It is a great pity. He would be so delighted to see you. He esteems and appreciates you. He has your portrait on his desk beside his mother's.  He is a charming prince and so grateful for what is done for him. He will be a great king. For he will be king without doubt. He will come back and sooner than people think. What I have to tell you, the message with which I am entrusted refers precisely to the the Emeril stood up. Not a word more, dear lady. I have the esteem, the confidence of the Republic. I will not betray it. And why should I betray it? I am loaded with honors and dignities. Allow me to tell you, my dear Emeril, that your honors and dignities are far from equalling what you deserve. If your services were properly rewarded, it would be Emerilissimo and Generalissimo. Commander-in-chief of the troops both on land and sea, the Republic is very ungrateful to you. All Governments are more or less ungrateful. Yes, but the Republicans are jealous of you. That class of person is always afraid of his superiors. They cannot endure the services. Everything that has to do with the Navy and the Army is odious to them. They are afraid of you. That is possible. They are wretches. They are ruining the country. Don't you wish to save Penguinia? In what way? By sweeping away all the rascals of the Republic. All the Republicans.  It is what will certainly be done if not by you than by someone else. The Generalissimo to mention him alone is ready to throw all ministers, deputies and senators to be and to recall Prince Crucho. Oh, the rascal, the scoundrel, exclaimed the Emerald. Due to him what he would do to you, the Prince will know how to recognize your services. He will give you the constable sword and a magnificent grant. I am commissioned in the meantime to hand you a pledge of his royal friendship. As she said these words she drew a green cockade from her bosom. What is that? asked the Emerald. It is his colors, which Crucho sends you. Be good enough to take them back so that they may be offered to the Generalissimo who will accept them. No, Emerald, let me place them on your glorious breast. Chatillon gently repelled the lady but for some minutes he thought her extremely pretty and he felt this impression still more when two bare arms and the rosy palms of two delicate hands touched him lightly. He yielded almost immediately. I believe was slow in fastening the ribbon. Then when it was done she made a low courtesy and saluted Chatillon with the title of constable. I have been ambitious like my comrades, answered the sailor. I don't hide it and perhaps I am so still but upon my word of honor when I look at you the only desire I feel is for a cottage and a heart. She turned upon him the charming sapphire glances that flashed from under her eyelids. That is to be had also. What are you doing, Emerald? I am looking for the heart. When she left the admiralty the Viscountess went immediately to the Reverend Father Agaric to give an account of her visit.  End of book 5, chapter 4 This is a LibriVox recording. O LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. This reading is by Michael Sirois Michael.Sirois S-I-R-O-I-S .com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 5 Modern Times Chatillon Book 5, Chapter 5 The Prince de Beausenville Morning and evening, the newspapers that had been bought by the dracophiles and hurled shame and approbrium upon the ministers of the Republic. Chatillon's portrait was sold through the streets of Alka. Those young descendants of Remus who carry plaster figures on their heads offered busts of Chatillon for sale upon the bridges.  The dracophiles posted along the emeralds' route a crowd of needy penguins who kept shouting It is Chatillon we want. It is Chatillon we want. It is Chatillon we want. The middle classes of Alka conceived a profound admiration for the emerald. Shop women murmured, he is good looking. Women of fashion slackened the pace of their motor cars and kissed hands to him as they passed amid the hurrahs of an enthusiastic populace. One day, as he went into a tobacco shop, two penguins who were putting letters in the box, recognized Chatillon and cried at the top of their voices hurrah for the emerald down with our republicans.  Chatillon lighted his cigar before the eyes of a dense crowd of frenzied citizens who waved their hats and cheered. The crowd kept increasing and the whole town, singing and marching behind its hero, went back with him to the Admiralty. The emerald had an old comrade in arms under emerald Vulcan mold who had served with great distinction a man as true as gold and as loyal as his sword. Vulcan mold plumed himself on his thoroughgoing independence and he went along the partisans of Crucho and the minister of the republic telling both parties what he thought of them. Monsieur Biggore maliciously declared that he told each party what the other party thought of it. In truth he had on several occasions been guilty of regrettable indiscretions which were overlooked as being the freedoms of a soldier who knew nothing of intrigue. Every morning he went to see Chatillon whom he treated with the cordial roughness of a brother in arms. Well, old buffer, so you are popular, said he to him. Your fizz is sold on the heads of pipes and on the core bottles and every drunkard in Elka spits out your name as he rolls in the gutter. Chatillon, the hero of the penguins. Chatillon, defender of the penguin glory. Who would have said it? Who would have thought it? And he laughed with his harsh laugh then changing his tone but joking aside are you not a bit surprised at what is happening to you? No, indeed answered Chatillon and out went the honest Vulcan mold banging the door behind him. In the meantime Chatillon had taken a little flat at number 18 Yohannes Talpa Street so that he might receive Icaotus Aleve. They met there every day. He was desperately in love with her. During his martial and Neptunian life he had loved crowds of women red, black, yellow and white and some of them had been very beautiful but before he met the Icaotus he did not know what a woman really was when the Icaotus Aleve called him her darling her dear darling he felt in heaven and it seemed to him that the stars shone in her hair she would come a little late and as she put her bag on the table she would ask pensively, let me sit on your knee and then she would talk of subjects suggested by the pious agaric interrupting the conversation with sighs and kisses she would ask him to dismiss such and such an officer to send to another or send the squadron here or there and at the right moment she would exclaim how young you are my dear and he did whatever she wished for he was simple he was anxious to wear the constable's sword and to receive a large grant he did not dislike playing a double part he had a vague idea of saving penguenea and he was in love this delightful woman induced him to remove the troops that were at Lacerque the port where Crucho was to land with no obstacle to prevent the prince from entering penguenea the pious agaric organized public meetings so as to keep up the agitation the draca files held one or two every day in some of the 36 districts of Alca and preferably in the poor quarters they desired to win over the poor for they are the most numerous on the 4th of May a particularly fine meeting was held in an old cattle market situated in the center of a populous suburb filled with housewives sitting on the doorsteps waiting in the gutters there were present about 2,000 people in the opinion of the republicans and 6,000 according to the reckoning of the draca files in the audience was to be seen the flower of penguin society including prince and princess de bossaenal count clena, monsieur de la trommel monsieur bigore and several rich jewish ladies the generalisimo of the national army had come in uniform he was cheered the committee had been carefully formed but a man of sound principles monsieur rochine, the secretary of the yellow syndicate was asked to preside supported by count clena and monsieur michaud abutcher the government which penguinia had freely given itself was called by such names as cesspool and drain and several eloquent speeches but president foremost was spared and no mention was made of crucho or the priests the meeting was not unanimous a defender of the modern state a manual laborer stood up gentlemen, said monsieur rochine the chairman, we have told you that this meeting would not be unanimous we are not like our opponents we are honest men I allow our opponent to speak heaven knows what you are going to hear gentlemen I beg of you to restrain as long as you can the expression of your contempt your disgust and your indignation gentlemen said the opponent immediately he was knocked down trampled beneath the feet of the indignant crowd and his unrecognizable remains thrown out of the hall the tumult was still resounding when count clena ascended the tribune cheers took the place of groans and when silence was restored the orator uttered these words comrades we are going to see whether you have blood in your veins what we have got to do is to slaughter disembowel and drain all the republicans this speech let loose such a thunder of applause that the old shed rocked with it and a cloud of acrid and thick dust fell from its filthy walls and worm-eaten beams and enveloped the audience a resolution was carried vilifying the government and acclaiming chateaune and the audience departed singing the hymn of the liberator it is chateaune moment the only way out of the old market was through a muddy alley shut in by omnibus stables and coal sheds there was no moon and a cold drizzle was coming down the police who were assembled in great numbers blocked the alley and compelled the dracophiles to disperse in little groups these were the instructions they had received from their chief who was anxious to check the enthusiasm of the excited crowd the dracophiles who were detained in the alley kept marking time and singing it is chateaune moment soon becoming impatient of the delay the cause of which they did not know they began to push those in front of them this movement propagated along the alley through those in front against the broad chests of the police the latter had no hatred for the dracophiles in the bottom of their hearts they liked chateaune but it is natural to resist aggression and strong men are inclined to make use of their strength for these reasons the police kicked the dracophiles with their hobnailed boots as a result there were sudden rushes backwards and forwards threats and cries mingled with the songs murder, murder it is chateaune moment murder it is chateaune moment murder and in the gloomy alley the more prudent kept saying don't push don't push among these latter in the darkness his lofty figure rising above the moving crowd his broad shoulders and robust body noticeable among the trampled limbs and crushed sides of the rest stood the prince deboceno calm, immovable and placid serenely and indulgently he waited in the meantime as the exit was opened at regular intervals between the ranks of the police the pressure of elbows against the chests of those around the prince diminished and people began to breathe again you see we shall soon be able to go out said that kindly giant with a pleasant smile time and patience he took a cigar from his case raised it to his lips and struck a match suddenly in the light of the match he saw princess Anne his wife clasped and count plain as arms at this site he rushed towards them striking both them and those around with his cane he was disarmed though not without difficulty but he could not be separated from his opponent and whilst the fainting princess was lifted from arm to arm to her carriage over the excited and curious crowd the two men still fought furiously prince deboceno lost his hat, his eyeglass, his cigar his necktie and his portfolio full of private letters and political correspondence he even lost the miraculous medals that he had received from the good father cornmuse but he gave his opponent so terrible a kick in the stomach the unfortunate count was knocked through an iron grating and went head foremost through a glass door and into a coal shed attracted by the struggle and the cries of those around the police rushed towards the prince who furiously resisted them he stretched three of them gasping at his feet and put seven others to flight with respectively a broken jaw, a split lip, a nose pouring blood, a fractured skull a torn ear, a dislocated collarbone and broken ribs he fell however and was dragged bleeding and disfigured with his clothes and rags to the nearest police station where jumping about and bellowing he spent the night at daybreak groups of demonstrators went about the town singing it is Shateon we want and breaking the windows of the houses in which the ministers of the republic lived end of book 5 chapter 5 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading is by Michael Serois Michael.serois s-i-r-o-i-s dot com Penguin Island by Anatole France book 5 modern times Shateon book 5 chapter 6 The Emeralds Fall that night marked the culmination of the dracophile movement the royalists had no longer any doubt of its triumph their chiefs sent congratulations to Prince Crucho by wireless telegraphy their ladies embroidered scarves and slippers for him Monsieur de Plume had found the green horse the pious agraric shared the common hope but he still worked to win the partisans for the pretender they ought he said to lay their foundations upon the bedrock with this design he had an interview with three trade union workmen in these times the artisans no longer lived as in the days of the draconites under the government of corporations they were free but they had no assured pay after having remained isolated from each other for a long time without help and without support they had formed themselves into unions the coffers of the unions were empty as it was not the habit of the unionists to pay their subscriptions there were unions numbering 30,000 members others with 1,500 200 and so forth several numbered two or three members only or even a few less but as the lists of adherents were not published it was not easy to distinguish the great unions from the small ones after some dark and indirect steps the pious agraric was put into communication in a room in the Moulin de Galette with comrades Dagobert Franck and Balafille the secretaries of three unions of which the first numbered 14 members the second 24 and the third only one agraric showed extreme cleverness at this interview gentlemen said he you and I have not in most respects the same political and social views but there are points in which we may come to an understanding we have a common enemy the government exploits you and despises us help us to overthrow it we will supply you with the means so far as we are able and you can in addition count on our gratitude work out the tin said Dagobert the reverend father placed on the table a bag which the distiller of Connells had given him with tears in his eyes Franck said to three companions thus was the solemn compact sealed as soon as the monk had departed carrying with him the joy of having one over the masses to his cause Dagobert, Tronck and Balafille whistled to their wives Emilia, Queenie and Matilda who were waiting in the street for the signal and all six holding each other's hands danced around the bag singing j'ai du bon bon mignon ton l'horre pas shatillon beaucoup la calotte the dracophile agitation made no progress in the provinces the pious agaric sought to find the cause of this but was unable to discover it until old cornmues revealed it to him in the evening all six went through the street from stall to stall singing their new song a song became popular but the detectives reported that every day showed an increase of the number of work people who sang through the slums j'ai du bon bon mignon ton l'horre pas shatillon beaucoup la calotte until old cornmues revealed it to him I have proofs sighed the monk of Connell's that the Duke of Ampshule, the treasurer of the dracophiles has bought property in Port Boisia with the funds that he received for the propaganda the party wanted money Prince de Boceno had lost his portfolio in a brawl and he was reduced to painful expedience which were repugnant to his impetuous character the Viscountess Olivier was expensive he was advised that the monthly allowance of that lady should be diminished she is very useful to us objected the pious agraric undoubtedly answered cornmues but she does us an injury by ruining us a schism divided the dracophiles misunderstandings reigned in their councils some wished that in accordance with the policy of Monsieur Bigore and the pious agraric they should carry on the design of reforming the public others, wearied by their long constraint resolved to proclaim the dragon's crest and swore to conquer beneath that sign the latter encouraged the advantage of a clear situation and the impossibility of making a pretense much longer and in truth, the public began to see whether the agitation was tending and that the emeralds partisans wanted to destroy the very foundations of the republic a report was spread that the prince was to land at La Cirque and make his entry into Alca on a green horse these rumours excited the fanatical monks delighted the poor nobles satisfied the rich Jewish ladies and put hope in the hearts of the small traders but very few of them were inclined to purchase these benefits at the price of a social catastrophe and the overthrow of the public credit and there were fewer still who would have risked their money their peace, their liberty or a single hour from their pleasures in the business on the other hand the workmen held themselves ready as ever to give a day's work to the republic and a strong resistance was being formed in the suburbs the people are with us the pious agorac used to say however, men, women and children when leaving their factories used to shout with one voice Abba Chatillon as for the government it showed the weakness, indecision flabbiness and heedlessness common to all governments and from which none has ever departed without falling into arbitrariness and violence in three words it knew nothing, wanted nothing and would do nothing but in his presidential palace remained blind, dumb, deaf, huge, invisible wrapped up in his pride as in an Eiderdown Count Aleve advised the dracophiles to make a last appeal for funds and to attempt a great stroke while Alco was still in affirmant an executive committee, which he himself had chosen decided to kidnap the members of the chamber of deputies and considered ways and means the affair was fixed for the 28th of July on that day the sun rose slowly over the city in front of a legislative palace women passed to market with their baskets hawkers cried their peaches, pears and grapes cab horses with their noses in their bags munched their hay nobody expected anything not because the secret had been kept but because it met with nothing but unbelievers nobody believed in a revolution and from this fact we may conclude that nobody desired one about two o'clock the deputies began to pass few and unnoticed at the door of the palace at three o'clock a few groups of badly dressed men had formed at half past three black masses coming from the adjacent streets spread over revolution square this vast expanse was soon covered by an ocean of soft hats and the crowd of demonstrators continually increased by sightseers having crossed the bridge struck its dark wave against the walls of the legislative enclosure cries, murmurs and songs went up to the impassive sky be thee shatty on one hand with the deputies be thee shatty on one hand with the republicans be thee shatty on one hand with the republicans be thee shatty on one hand with the republicans death of the republicans the devoted band of dracophiles led by prince de borseno struck up the august canticle we were crucial violent assaults in the courage the reversal behind the wall silence alone replied the silence and the absence of guards encouraged and at the same time frightened the crowd suddenly a formidable voice cried out attack! and prince de borseno was seen raising his gigantic form to the top of a wall which was covered with barbs and iron spikes behind him rushed his companions and the people followed some hammered against the wall to make holes in it others endeavored to tear down the spikes and pull out the barbs these defenses had given way in places where the invaders had stripped the wall and were sitting astride on the top prince de borseno was waving an immense green flag suddenly the crowd wavered and from it came a long cry of terror the police and the republican carabiners issuing out of all of the entrances of the palace formed themselves into a column beneath the wall and in a moment it was cleared of its procedures after a long moment of suspense the noise of arms was heard and the police charged the crowd with fixed bayonets an instant afterwards and on the deserted square strewn with hats and walking sticks there reigned a sinister silence twice again the dracophiles attempted to form twice they were repulsed the rising was conquered but prince de borseno standing on the wall of the hostile palace his flag in his hand still repelled the attack of a whole brigade he knocked down all who approached him at last he too was thrown down and fell on an iron spike to which he remained hooked to the draconides on the following day the ministers of the republic and the members of parliament determined to take energetic measures in vain this time did president formos attempt to evade his responsibilities the government discussed the question of depriving satiana of his rank and dignities and of indicting him before the high court as a conspirator an enemy of the public good a traitor etc at this news the emeralds old companions in arms who the very evening before their adulations made no effort to conceal their joy but shateon remained popular with the middle classes of alka and one still heard the hymn of the liberators sounding in the streets it is shateon we want the ministers were embarrassed they intended to indict shateon before the high court but they knew nothing they remained in that total ignorance reserved for those who govern men they were incapable of advancing any grave charges against shateon they could supply the prosecution with nothing but the ridiculous lies of their spies shateon share in the plot his relations with prince crucho remained the secret of the thirty thousand dracoviles the ministers and the deputies had suspicions and even certainties but they had no proofs the public prosecutor said to the minister of justice very little is needed for a political prosecution but i have nothing at all and that is not enough the affair made no progress the enemies of the republic were triumphant on the eighteenth of september the news ran in elka that shateon had taken flight everywhere there was surprise and astonishment people doubted for they could not understand this is what had happened one day as the brave under emerald vulcan mold happened as if by chance to go into the office of monsieur babotan the minister of foreign affairs he remarked with his usual frankness monsieur babotan your colleagues do not seem to me to be up to much it is evident that they have never commanded a ship that full shateon gives them a doosed bad fit of the shivers the minister in sign of denial waved his paper knife in the air above his desk don't deny it answered vulcan mold you don't know how to get rid of shateon you do not dare to indict him before the high court because you're not sure of being able to bring forward a strong enough charge bigore will defend him and bigore is a clever advocate you are right monsieur babotan you are right it would be a dangerous trial oh my good friend said the minister in a careless tone if you knew how satisfied we are I received the most reassuring news from my prefects a good sense of the penguins will do justice to the intrigues of this mutinous soldier can you suppose for a moment that a great people an intelligent and laborious people devoted to liberal institutions which vulcan mold interrupted with a great sigh ah if I had time to do it I would relieve you of your difficulty I would juggle away my shateon like a nutmeg out of a thimble I would fillip him off to porpoisea the minister paid close attention it would not take long continued the sailor I would rid you in a trice of the creature but just now I have other fish to fry I'm in a bad hole I must find a pretty big sum but do take it on or before everything the minister and under emerald looked at each other for a moment in silence then barbottan said with authority under emerald vulcan mold get rid of this seditious soldier you will render a great service to penguinia and the minister of home affairs will see that your gambling debts are paid the same evening vulcan mold called on shateon and looked at him for some time with an expression of grief and mystery why do you look like that asked the emerald in an uneasy tone vulcan mold said to him sadly old brother in arms all is discovered for the past half hour the government knows everything at these words shateon sank down overwhelmed vulcan mold continued you may be arrested at any moment I advise you to make off and drawing out his watch not a minute to lose have I time to call on the vicountess oliv? it would be mad said vulcan mold handing him a passport and a pair of blue spectacles and telling him to have courage vulcan mold said shateon goodbye ol' jam goodbye and thanks you have saved my life that is the least I could do a quarter of an hour later the brave emerald had left the city of alka he embarked that night on an old cutter at lasirque and set sail for porpoisea but eight miles from the coast he was captured by a dispatch boat which was sailing without lights which was under the flag of the queen of the black islands that queen had for a long time a little passion for shateon end of book 5 chapter 6 this is a libravox recording all libravox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit libravox.org this reading is by michael serois michael.serois s-i-r-o-i-s dot com penguin island by anatole franc book 5 modern times book 5 chapter 7 conclusion delivered from its fears and pleased at having escaped from so great a danger the government resolved to celebrate the anniversary of the penguin regeneration and the establishment of the republic by holding a general holiday president foremost the ministers and the members of the chamber and of the senate were present at the ceremony the general isimo of the penguin army was present in uniform he was cheered preceded by the black flag of misery and the red flag of revolt deputations of workmen walked in the procession their aspect one of grim protection president ministers, deputies, officials heads of the magistracy and of the army each in their own names and in the name of the sovereign people renewed the ancient oath to live in freedom or to die it was an alternative upon which they were resolutely determined but they preferred to live in freedom there were games, speeches and songs after the departure of the representatives of the state the crowd of citizens separated slowly and peacefully shouting out hurrah for the republic, hurrah for liberty down with the shaven pates the newspapers mentioned only one regrettable incident that happened on that wonderful day prince de bossaeno was quietly smoking a cigar in the queen's meadow when the state procession passed by the prince approached the minister's carriage and said in a loud voice death to the republicans he was immediately apprehended by the police to whom he offered a most desperate resistance he knocked them down in crowds but he was conquered by numbers and bruised, scratched, swollen and unrecognizable even to the eyes of his wife he was dragged through the joyous streets into an obscure prison the magistrates carried on the case against shateon in a peculiar style letters were found at the admiralty which revealed the complicity of the reverend father agaric in the plot immediately public opinion was inflamed against the monks and parliament voted one after the other a dozen laws which restrained, diminished limited, prescribed, suppressed determined and curtailed their rights immunities, exemptions, privileges and benefits and created many in validating disqualifications against them the reverend father agaric steadfastly endured the rigor of the laws which struck him personally as well as the terrible fall of the emerald of which he was the chief cause far from yielding to evil fortune he regarded it as but a bird of passage he was planning new political designs more audacious than the first when his projects were sufficiently ripe he went one day to the wood of conals a thrush sang in a tree and a little hedgehog crossed the stony path in front of him with awkward steps agaric walked with great strides muttering fragments of sentences to himself when he reached the door of the laboratory in which for so many years the pious manufacturer had distilled the golden liqueur of St. Orbarosia he found the place deserted and the door shut having walked around the building he saw in the backyard the venerable corn muse who with his habit pinned up was climbing a ladder that leaned against the wall is that you my dear friend said he to him what are you doing there you can see for yourself answered the monk of conals in a feeble voice turning a sorrowful look upon agaric I am going into my house the red pupils of his eyes no longer imitated the triumph and brilliance of the ruby they flashed mournful and troubled glances his countenance had lost its happy fullness his shining head was no longer pleasant to the sight perspiration and inflamed blotches had altered its inestimable perfection I don't understand said agaric it is easy enough to understand you see the consequences of your plot although a multitude of laws are direct against me I have managed to elude the greater number of them some however have struck me these vindictive men have closed my laboratories and my shops and confiscated my bottles my stills and my retorts they have put seals on my doors and now I am compelled to go in through the window I am barely able to extract in secret and from time to time the juice of a few plants and that with an apparatus which the umblest laborer would despise you suffer from the persecution said agaric it strikes us all the monk of conals passed his hand over his afflicted brow I told you so brother agaric I told you that your enterprise would turn against ourselves our defeat is only momentary replied agaric eagerly it is due to purely accidental causes it results from mere contingencies shatiyan was a fool he has drowned himself in his own ineptitude listen to me brother cornmuse we have not a moment to lose we must free the penguin people we must deliver them from their tyrants save them from themselves restore the dragon's crest reestablish the ancient state the good state for the honor of religion and the exaltation of the catholic faith shatiyan was a bad instrument he broke in our hands let us take a better instrument to replace him I have the man who will destroy this impious democracy he is a civil official his name is Gomorru the penguins worship him he has already betrayed his party for a plate of rice there is the man we want at the beginning of this speech the monk of conals had climbed into his window and pulled up the ladder I foresee answered he with his nose through the sash that you will not stop until you have us all expelled from this pleasant, agreeable and sweet land of penguinia good night, god keep you agaric standing before the wall entreated his dearest brother to listen to him for a moment and your own interest better, corn muse penguinia is ours what do we need to conquer it? just one effort more one more little sacrifice of money but without listening further the monk of conals drew in his head and closed his window end of chapter 7 and the end of book 5 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading is by Michael Cervois Michael.Cervois S-I-R-O-I-S.com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 6 Modern Times The Affair of the Eighty Thousand Trusts of Hay The book begins with a quote O Father Zeus Only save thou the sons of the Achaeans from the darkness and make clear sky and vouch safe sight to our eyes and then so it be but light and slay us since such is thy good pleasure the Iliad 17645 and the following Book 6 Chapter 1 General Greytalk Duke of Skull A short time after the flight of the Emerald a middle class Jew called Pyro desirous of associating with the aristocracy and wishing to serve his country entered the Penguin Army the minister of war who at that time was Greytalk, Duke of Skull he was the first to endure him he blamed him for his zeal his hooked nose his vanity his fondness for study his thick lips and his exemplary conduct every time the author of any misdeed was looked for Greytalk used to say it must be Pyro One morning General Panther the chief of staff informed Greytalk of a serious matter 80,000 trusts of Hay intended for the cavalry Greytalk exclaimed at once it must be Pyro who has stolen them he remained in thought for some time and said the more I think of it the more I am convinced that Pyro has stolen those 80,000 trusts of Hay and I know it by this he stole them in order that he might sell them to our better enemies the porpoises what an infamous piece of treachery there is no doubt about it answered Panther it only remains to prove it the same day as he passed by a cavalry barracks Prince de Bosseno heard the troopers as they were sweeping out the yard singing Bosseno e progrosio it seemed to him contrary to all discipline that soldiers should sing this domestic and revolutionary refrain which on days of riot had been uttered by the lips of jeering workmen on this occasion he deplored the moral degeneration of the army and thought with a bitter smile that his old comrade Greytalk the head of this degenerate army basically exposed him to the malice of an unpatriotic government and he promised himself that he would make an improvement before long that scoundrel Greytalk said he to himself will not long remain a minister Prince de Bosseno was the most irreconcilable of the opponents of modern democracy free thought and the government which the penguins had voluntarily given themselves he had a vigorous and undisguised hatred for the Jews and he worked in public and in private night and day for the restoration of the line of the draconides his ardent royalism was still further excited by the thought of his private affairs which were in a bad way and were hourly growing worse he had no hope of seeing an end to his pecuniary embarrassments until the heir of Draco the Great entered the city of Alca when he returned to his house the prince took out of his safe a bundle of old letters consisting of a private correspondence of the most secret nature which he had obtained from a treacherous secretary they proved that his old comrade Greytalk the Duke of Skull had been guilty of jovery regarding the military stores and had received a present of no great value from a manufacturer called Mallory the very smallness of this present deprived the minister who had accepted it of all excuse the prince reread the letters with a bitter satisfaction put them carefully back into his safe the minister of war he was a man of resolute character on being told that the minister could see no one he knocked down the ushers swept aside the orderlies trampled underfoot the civil and military clerks burst through the doors and entered the room of the astonished Greytalk I will not say much said he to him but I will speak to the point you are a confounded cad I have asked you to put a flea in the ear of General Mosheen the tool of those republicans I have asked you to give a command to General de Clappier who works for the draka fields and who has obliged me personally and you would not do it I have asked you to dismiss General Tandem the commander of Port Alca who robbed me of fifty Lui at cards and who had me handcuffed when I was brought before the high court as emerald chatillon's accomplice you would not do it I asked you for the hay and brand stores you would not give them I asked you to send me on a secret mission to Forpozia you refused with these repeated refusals you have designated me to your government colleagues as a dangerous person who ought to be watched and it is owing to you that I have been shattered by the police you old traitor I ask nothing more from you and I have but one word to say to you clear out you have bothered us too long besides we will force the vile republic to replace you by one of your own party you know that I am a man of my word if in twenty four hours you have not handed in your resignation I will publish the Mallory dossier in the newspapers but Greyhawk calmly and serenely replied be quiet you fool I am just having a Jew transported I am handing over pyro to justice as guilty of having stolen 80,000 trusses of hay Prince Boussaino whose anger vanished like a dream smiled is that true you will see my congratulations Greyhawk but as one always needs to take precautions and kindly publish the good news people will read this evening about pyro's arrest in every newspaper in Alka and he went away muttering that pyro I suspected he would come to a bad end a moment later general panther appeared before Greyhawk ser said he I have just examined the business of the 80,000 trusses of hay there is no evidence against pyro let it be found answered Greyhawk justice requires it have pyro arrested at once end of book 6 chapter 1 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading is by Michael Serois Michael.serois S-I-R-O-I-S dot com Penguin Island by Anatole France book 6 modern times book 6 Pyro all penguinia heard with horror of pyro's crime at the same time there was a sort of satisfaction that this embezzlement combined with treachery and even bordering on sacrilege had been committed by a Jew in order to understand this feeling it is necessary to be acquainted with the state of public opinion regarding the Jews both great and small as we have had occasion to say in this history the universally detested and all powerful financial caste was composed of Christians of Jews the Jews who formed part of it and on whom the people poured all their hatred were the upper class Jews they possessed immense riches and it was said held more than a fifth part of the total property of penguinia outside this formidable caste there was a multitude of Jews of a mediocre condition who were not more loved than the others and who were feared much less in every ordered state wealth is a sacred thing in democracies it is the only sacred thing the penguin state was democratic three or four financial companies exercised a more extensive and above all more effective and continuous power than that of the ministers of the republic the latter were puppets whom the companies ruled in secret whom they compelled by intimidation or corruption to favor themselves at the expense of the state and whom they ruined by calamities in the press if they remained honest in spite of the secrecy of the exchequer enough appeared to make the country indignant and the middle class penguins had from the greatest to the least of them been brought up to hold money in great reverence and as they all had property either much or little they were strongly impressed with the solidarity of capital and understood that a small fortune is not safe unless a big one is protected for these reasons they conceived a religious respect for the Jews millions and self-interest being stronger with them than a version they were as much afraid as they were of death to touch a single hair tested towards the poorer Jews they felt less ceremonious than when they saw any of them down they trampled on them that is why the entire nation learned with thorough satisfaction that the trader was a Jew they could take vengeance on all Israel in his person without any fear of compromising the public credit that pyro had stolen the 80,000 trusses of hay nobody hesitated for a moment to believe no one doubted because the general ignorance in which everybody was believing the affair did not allow a doubt for doubt is a thing that demands motives people do not doubt without reasons in the same way that people believe without reasons the thing was not doubted because it was repeated everywhere and with the public to repeat is to prove it was not doubted because people wished to believe pyro guilty and one believes what one wishes to believe finally it was not doubted because the faculty of doubt is rare amongst men very few minds carry in them their terms and these are not developed without cultivation doubt is singular, exquisite philosophic, immoral, transcendent monstrous full of malignity, injurious to persons into property contrary to the good order of governments and to the prosperity of empires fatal to humanity destructive of the gods held in horror by heaven and earth the mass of the penguins were ignorant of doubt pyro's guilt and this conviction immediately became one of its chief national beliefs and an essential truth in its patriotic creed pyro was tried secretly and condemned general panther immediately went to the minister of war to tell him the result luckily, said he, the judges were certain for they had no proofs proofs, muttered grey talk proofs, what do they prove there's only one certain irrefragable proof the confession of the guilty person has pyro confessed? no general he will confess he ought to panther we must induce him tell him it is to his interest promise him that if he confesses he will obtain favors, a reduction of his sentence full pardon promise him that if he confesses his innocence will be admitted that he will be decorated appeal to his good feelings let him confess from patriotism respect for the hierarchy at the special command of the minister of war militarily but tell me panther has he not confessed already there are tacit confessions silence is a confession but general, he is not silent he keeps on squealing like a pig that he is innocent panther, the confessions of a guilty man sometimes result from the vehemence of his denials to deny desperately is to confess pyro has confessed promises of his confessions justice requires them there was in western penguinia a seaport called la circ formed of three small bays informally greatly frequented by ships but now solitary and deserted gloomy lagoons stretched along its low coasts exhaling a pestulent odor while fever hovered over its sleepy waters here on the borders of the sea there was built a high square tower like the old campanile at venice from the side of which, close to the summit hung an open cage which was fastened by a chain to a transverse bean in the times of the draconites the inquisitors of alka used to put heretical clergy into this cage it had been empty for 300 years but now pyro was imprisoned in it under the guard of 60 warders who lived in the tower and did not lose sight of him night or day spying on him for confessions that they might afterwards report to the minister of war for great hawk careful and prudent, desired confessions and still further confessions great hawk, who was looked upon as a fool was in reality a man of great ability and full of rare foresight in the meantime, pyro burned by the sun eaten by mosquitoes soaked in the rain, hail and snow frozen by the cold tossed about terribly by the wind beset by the sinister croaking of the ravens that perched upon his cage kept writing down his innocence on pieces torn off his shirt with a toothpick dipped in blood these rags were lost in the sea or fell into the hands of the jailers but pyro's protests moved nobody because his confessions had been published end of book 6, chapter 2 this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org this reading is by Michael Sirwa Michael.Sirwa s-i-r-o-i-s.com Penguin Island by Anatole France Book 6, Modern Times Book 6, Chapter 3 Counter-Maubeck to Ludento-Links The morals of the Jews were not always pure in most cases they were reversed from none of the vices of Christian civilization but they retained from the patriarchal age recognition of family ties and an attachment to the interests of the tribe pyro's brothers, half-brothers uncles, great uncles first, second, and third cousins nephews and great nephews relations by blood and relations by marriage and old who were related to him to the number of about seven hundred were at first overwhelmed by the blow that had struck their relative and they shut themselves up in their houses covering themselves with ashes and blessing the hand that had chastised them for forty days they kept a strict fast then they bade themselves and resolved to search without rest at the cost of any toil and at the risk of every danger for the demonstration of an innocence which they did not doubt and how could they have doubted pyro's innocence had been revealed to them in the same way that his guilt had been revealed to Christian penguinia for these things being hidden assume a mystic character and take on the authority of religious truths the seven hundred pyratists set to work with as much zeal as prudence thorough inquiries and secret they were everywhere, they were seen nowhere one would have said that like the pilot of Ulysses they wandered freely over the earth they penetrated into the war office and approached under different disguises the judges, the registrars and the witnesses of the affair then great hoc's cleverness was seen the witnesses knew nothing the judges and registrars knew nothing emissaries reached even pyro and anxiously questioned him in his cage amid the prolonged moanings of the sea and the horse croaks of the ravens it was in vain the prisoner knew nothing the seven hundred pyratists could not subvert the proofs of the accusation because they could not know what they were and they could not know what they were because there were none pyro's guilt was indefeasible through its very nullity and it was with a legitimate pride that great hoc expressing himself as a true artist said one day to general panther in his case is a masterpiece it is made out of nothing the seven hundred pyratists disbared of ever clearing up this dark business when suddenly they discovered from a stolen letter that the eighty thousand trusses of hay had never existed that a most distinguished nobleman had sold them to the state that he had received the price but had never delivered them indeed seeing that he was descended from the richest landed proprietors of the mobecs of denterlinks once the possessors of four duchies sixty counties and six hundred and twelve marquisates veronies and vicounties he did not possess as much land as he could cover with his hand and would not have been able to cut a single day's mowing of forage off his own domains as to his getting a single rush from a landowner or a merchant that would have been quite impossible for everybody except the ministers of state and the government officials knew that it would be easier to get blood from a stone than from a mobec the seven hundred