Monsieur Patissot, born in Paris, having failed in his studies at the Collège Henri IV, obtained employment in a government department through the influence of one of his aunts, who kept a cigar store where a chief clerk of the department bought his supply of tobacco. He advanced very slowly and would perhaps have died a fourth-class clerk, had it not been for the benevolent Providence that watches over us all.
When he was about fifty-two years old, he had only begun to explore, as a tourist, that region of France which lies between the fortifications of Paris and the provinces proper. The history of his promotion may be of use to a great many clerks, just as the description of his outings may help a number of Parisians to plan their own trips, thus being able to avoid certain mishaps which befell him.
In 1854, M. Patissot was making only eighteen hundred francs a year. His peculiar disposition rendered him unpopular with his superiors, who let him linger in an eternal and hopeless expectation of the clerk’s ideal, an increase of salary.
Though he worked conscientiously, he did not know how to push, being, he said, too proud to do it. His pride consisted in refusing to bow and scrape before his superiors, after the manner of some of his fellow-workers whom he declined to name. He used to add that his bluntness embarrassed many persons, for, like all the rest, he criticised injustice and the favoritism that was shown to outsiders, strangers to the department. But his indignant voice never passed the door of the little box in which he worked.
First as a clerk, then as a Frenchman, and finally as a man of order, he adhered from principle to all established forms of the government, having a religious reverence for power when it belonged to others than his own chiefs.
Every time he found the chance, he would stand where he could see the Emperor pass, that he might have the honor of raising his hat, and he would depart very proud at having bowed to the Chief of the State.
After repeatedly contemplating the sovereign, he followed the example of a great many of his fellow-citizens: he copied the cut of his Majesty’s beard, of his coat, his style of wearing his hair, his walk, even his mannerisms—how many men in every country seem reproductions of the reigning sovereign! Indeed, he did resemble Napoleon III slightly, but his own hair was black, so he dyed it. The likeness then was striking, and when he chanced to see in the street a man who also resembled the imperial person, he would feel jealous and eye him disdainfully!
This desire of aping some distinguished person grew to be a mania with him, and having heard an usher of the Tuileries imitate the Emperor’s speech, he, too, gradually adopted the intonation and studied slowness of his Majesty’s voice.
He became so identified with his model that they could easily have been mistaken for each other; many persons in the department, even high officials, began to notice the likeness, and regarded it as unseemly and even vulgar. They spoke of it to the minister, who summoned the clerk before him. But when he laid eyes on the Emperor’s counterpart he burst out laughing and repeated several times: “This is funny, really, very funny!” His words were noised around, and the following day Patissot’s immediate chief proposed his subordinate for an increase in salary of three hundred francs, which was immediately granted. From that time, he was promoted regularly, thanks to his simian faculty of imitation. His chiefs even went so far as to imagine that some high honor would come to him one day, and addressed him with deference.
But when the Republic was proclaimed it brought disaster. He felt absolutely crushed and lost his head; he stopped dyeing his hair, shaved off his imperial and had his hair cropped close, thus acquiring an inoffensive and benevolent expression that was most uncompromising.
Then his chiefs sought revenge for the long time he had imposed on them, and, having become Republicans through the instinct of self-preservation, they persecuted him and delayed his promotion. He, too, changed his political faith, but as the Republic was not a living being to whom one might bear a likeness and as its presidents followed one another in rapid succession, he found himself in a predicament, and felt thwarted in his instinct of imitation, because his attempt to copy his latest ideal, M. Thiers, had utterly failed. His peculiar fancy, however, led him to seek continually a new manifestation. He reflected long and earnestly, and one morning appeared at the office with a new hat, the right side of which was decorated with a tiny tricolor rosette. His colleagues were astonished and laughed over it for days. But the gravity of his bearing finally awed them, and again his chiefs felt worried. What mystery lay behind this rosette? Was it only a manifestation of patriotism, the confirmation of his adherence to the Republic, or was it the secret sign of some powerful association?
As he wore it so persistently, his colleagues thought he must have some occult and powerful protection. They decided that at all events it was wise to be on guard, especially as the unruffled calmness with which he received their pleasantries increased their apprehensions. They treated him with great regard, and thus his sham courage saved him, for on the first day of January, 1880, he was appointed head-clerk.
His whole life had been spent indoors. He had remained single for love of tranquillity, as he hated noise and motion. He spent his Sundays reading tales of adventure and ruling blotters, which he used to present to his colleagues. In his whole life he had taken but three vacations of a week each, in order to move to new quarters. Once in a while, on a holiday, he would take an excursion-train to Havre or to Dieppe, to expand and elevate his soul by
