by Guy de Maupassant
Maupassant / La mère aux monstres (A short story in French)
I recalled
this horrible story, the events of which occurred long ago, and this horrible
woman, the other day at a fashionable seaside resort, where I saw on the beach
a well-known young, elegant and charming Parisienne, adored and respected by
everyone.
I had been invited by a friend to pay him a
visit in a little provincial town. He took me about in all directions to do the
honors of the place, showed me noted scenes, chateaux, industries, ruins. He
pointed out monuments, churches, old carved doorways, enormous or distorted
trees, the oak of St. Andrew, and the yew tree of Roqueboise.
When I had exhausted my admiration and
enthusiasm over all the sights, my friend said with a distressed expression on
his face, that there was nothing left to look at. I breathed freely. I would
now be able to rest under the shade of the trees. But, all at once, he uttered
an exclamation:
"Oh, yes! We have the 'Mother of Monsters'; I
must take you to see her."
"Who is that, the 'Mother of Monsters'?" I
asked.
"She is an abominable woman," he replied,
"a regular demon, a being who voluntarily brings into the world deformed,
hideous, frightful children, monstrosities, in fact, and then sells them to
showmen who exhibit such things.
"These exploiters of freaks come from time to time
to find out if she has any fresh monstrosity, and if it meets with their
approval they carry it away with them, paying the mother a compensation.
"She has eleven of this description. She is
rich.
"You think I am joking, romancing,
exaggerating. No, my friend; I am telling you the truth, the exact truth.
"Let us go and see this woman. Then I will tell
you her history."
He took me into one of the suburbs. The woman
lived in a pretty little house by the side of the road. It was attractive and
well kept. The garden was filled with fragrant flowers. One might have supposed
it to be the residence of a retired lawyer.
A maid ushered us into a sort of little
country parlor, and the wretch appeared. She was about forty. She was a tall,
big woman with hard features, but well formed, vigorous and healthy, the true
type of a robust peasant woman, half animal, and half woman.
She was aware of her reputation and received
everyone with a humility that smacked of hatred.
"What do the gentlemen wish?" she asked.
"They tell me that your last child is just like
an ordinary child, that he does not resemble his brothers at all," replied
my friend. "I wanted to be sure of that. Is it true?"
She cast on us a malicious and furious look as
she said:
"Oh, no, oh, no, my poor sir! He is perhaps
even uglier than the rest. I have no luck, no luck!
They are all like that, it is heartbreaking!
How can the good God be so hard on a poor woman who is all alone in the world,
how can He?" She spoke hurriedly, her eyes cast down, with a deprecating
air as of a wild beast who is afraid. Her harsh voice became soft, and it
seemed strange to hear those tearful falsetto tones issuing from that big, bony
frame, of unusual strength and with coarse outlines, which seemed fitted for
violent action, and made to utter howls like a wolf.
"We should like to see your little one,"
said my friend.
I fancied she colored up. I may have been
deceived. After a few moments of silence, she said in a louder tone:
"What good will that do you?"
"Why do you not wish to show it to us?"
replied my friend. "There are many people to whom you will show it; you
know whom I mean."
She gave a start, and resuming her natural
voice, and giving free play to her anger, she screamed:
"Was that why you came here? To insult me?
Because my children are like animals, tell me? You shall not see him, no, no,
you shall not see him! Go away, go away! I do not know why you all try to
torment me like that."
She walked over toward us, her hands on her
hips. At the brutal tone of her voice, a sort of moaning, or rather a mewing,
the lamentable cry of an idiot, came from the adjoining room. I shivered to the
marrow of my bones. We retreated before her.
"Take care, Devil" (they called her the
Devil); said my friend, "take care; some day you will get yourself into
trouble through this."
She began to tremble, beside herself with
fury, shaking her fist and roaring:
"Be off with you! What will get me into
trouble? Be off with you, miscreants!"
She was about to attack us, but we fled,
saddened at what we had seen. When we got outside, my friend said:
"Well, you have seen her, what do you think of
her?"
"Tell me the story of this brute," I
replied.
And this is what he told me as we walked along
the white high road, with ripe crops on either side of it which rippled like
the sea in the light breeze that passed over them.
"This woman was one a servant on a farm. She was
an honest girl, steady and economical. She was never known to have an admirer,
and never suspected of any frailty. But she went astray, as so many do.
"She soon found herself in trouble, and was
tortured with fear and shame. Wishing to conceal her misfortune, she bound her
body tightly with a corset of her own invention, made of boards and cord. The
more she developed, the more she bound herself with this instrument of torture,
suffering martyrdom, but brave in her sorrow, not allowing anyone to see, or
suspect, anything. She maimed the little unborn being, cramping it with that
frightful corset, and made a monster of it. Its head was squeezed and elongated
to a point, and its large eyes seemed popping out of its head. Its limbs,
exaggeratedly long, and twisted like the stalk of a vine, terminated in fingers
like the claws of a spider. Its trunk was tiny, and round as a nut.
"The child was born in an open field, and when
the weeders saw it, they fled away, screaming, and the report spread that she
had given birth to a demon. From that time on, she was called 'the Devil.'
"She was driven from the farm, and lived on
charity, under a cloud. She brought up the monster, whom she hated with a
savage hatred, and would have strangled, perhaps, if the priest had not
threatened her with arrest.
"One day some travelling showmen heard about
the frightful creature, and asked to see it, so that if it pleased them they
might take it away. They were pleased, and counted out five hundred francs to
the mother. At first, she had refused to let them see the little animal, as she
was ashamed; but when she discovered it had a money value, and that these
people were anxious to get it, she began to haggle with them, raising her price
with all a peasant's persistence.
"She made them draw up a paper, in which they
promised to pay her four hundred francs a year besides, as though they had
taken this deformity into their employ.
"Incited by the greed of gain, she continued to
produce these phenomena, so as to have an assured income like a bourgeoise.
"Some of them were long, some short, some like
crabs-all bodies-others like lizards. Several died, and she was heartbroken.
"The law tried to interfere, but as they had no
proof they let her continue to produce her freaks.
She has at this moment eleven alive, and they
bring in, on an average, counting good and bad years, from five to six thousand
francs a year. One, alone, is not placed, the one she was unwilling to show us.
But she will not keep it long, for she is known to all the showmen in the
world, who come from time to time to see if she has anything new.
"She even gets bids from them when the monster
is valuable."
My friend was silent. A profound disgust
stirred my heart, and a feeling of rage, of regret, to think that I had not
strangled this brute when I had the opportunity.
I had forgotten this story, when I saw on
the beach of a fashionable resort the other day, an elegant, charming, dainty
woman, surrounded by men who paid her respect as well as admiration.
I was walking along the beach, arm in arm
with a friend, the resident physician. Ten minutes later, I saw a nursemaid
with three children, who were rolling in the sand. A pair of little crutches
lay on the ground, and touched my sympathy. I then noticed that these three
children were all deformed, humpbacked, or crooked; and hideous.
"Those are the offspring of that charming woman
you saw just now," said the doctor.
I was filled with pity for her, as well as
for them, and exclaimed: "Oh, the poor mother! How can she ever
laugh!"
"Do not pity her, my friend. Pity the poor
children," replied the doctor. "This is the consequence of preserving
a slender figure up to the last. These little deformities were made by the
corset. She knows very well that she is risking her life at this game. But what
does she care, as long as lie can be beautiful and have admirers!"
And then I recalled that other woman, the
peasant, the "Devil," who sold her children, her monsters.
12 june
1883.
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