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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
The Crime of Sylvestre
Bonnard
by Anatole France
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
Part IThe Log
December 24； 1849。
I had put on my slippers and my dressing…gown。 I wiped away a tear
with which the north wind blowing over the quay had obscured my vision。
A bright fire was leaping in the chimney of my study。 Ice…crystals； shaped
like fern…leaves； were sprouting over the windowpanes and concealed
from me the Seine with its bridges and the Louvre of the Valois。
I drew up my easy…chair to the hearth； and my table…volante； and took
up so much of my place by the fire as Hamilcar deigned to allow me。
Hamilcar was lying in front of the andirons； curled up on a cushion； with
his nose between his paws。 His think find fur rose and fell with his regular
breathing。 At my coming； he slowly slipped a glance of his agate eyes at
me from between his half…opened lids； which he closed again almost at
once； thinking to himself； 〃It is nothing； it is only my friend。〃
〃Hamilcar；〃 I said to him； as I stretched my legs〃Hamilcar；
somnolent Prince of the City of Booksthou guardian nocturnal！ Like that
Divine Cat who combated the impious in Heliopolisin the night of the
great combatthou dost defend from vile nibblers those books which the
old savant acquired at the cost of his slender savings and indefatigable zeal。
Sleep； Hamilcar； softly as a sultana； in this library； that shelters thy
military virtues； for verily in thy person are united the formidable aspect
of a Tatar warrior and the slumbrous grace of a woman of the Orient。
Sleep； thou heroic and voluptuous Hamilcar； while awaiting the moonlight
hour in which the mice will come forth to dance before the Acta
Sanctorum of the learned Bolandists！〃
The beginning of this discourse pleased Hamilcar； who accompanied it
with a throat…sound like the song of a kettle on the fire。 But as my voice
waxed louder； Hamilcar notified me by lowering his ears and by wrinkling
the striped skin of his brow that it was bad taste on my part so to declaim。
〃This old…book man；〃 evidently thought Hamilcar； 〃talks to no purpose
at all while our housekeeper never utters a word which is not full of good
sense； full of significancecontaining either the announcement of a meal
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
or the promise of a whipping。 One knows what she says。 But this old man
puts together a lot of sounds signifying nothing。〃
So thought Hamilcar to himself。 Leaving him to his reflections； I
opened a book； which I began to read with interest； for it was a catalogue
of manuscripts。 I do not know any reading more easy； more fascinating；
more delightful than that of a catalogue。 The one which I was reading
edited in 1824 by Mr。 Thompson； librarian to Sir Thomas Raleighsins； it
is true； by excess of brevity； and does not offer that character of exactitude
which the archivists of my own generation were the first to introduce into
works upon diplomatics and paleography。 It leaves a good deal to be
desired and to be divined。 This is perhaps why I find myself aware； while
reading it； of a state of mind which in nature more imaginative than mine
might be called reverie。 I had allowed myself to drift away this gently
upon the current of my thoughts； when my housekeeper announced； in a
tone of ill…humor； that Monsieur Coccoz desired to speak with me。
In fact； some one had slipped into the library after her。 He was a little
mana poor little man of puny appearance； wearing a thin jacket。 He
approached me with a number of little bows and smiles。 But he was very
pale； and； although still young and alert； he looked ill。 I thought as I
looked at him； of a wounded squirrel。 He carried under his arm a green
toilette； which he put upon a chair； then unfastening the four corners of the
toilette； he uncovered a heap of little yellow books。
〃Monsieur；〃 he then said to me； 〃I have not the honour to be known to
you。 I am a book…agent； Monsieur。 I represent the leading houses of the
capital； and in the hope that you will kindly honour me with your
confidence； I take the liberty to offer you a few novelties。〃
Kind gods！ just gods！ such novelties as the homunculus Coccoz
showed me！ The first volume that he put in my hand was 〃L'Histoire de la
Tour de Nesle；〃 with the amours of Marguerite de Bourgogne and the
Captain Buridan。
〃It is a historical book；〃 he said to me； with a smile〃a book of real
history。〃
〃In that case；〃 I replied； 〃it must be very tiresome； for all the historical
books which contain no lies are extremely tedious。 I write some authentic
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
ones myself； and if you were unlucky enough to carry a copy of any of
them from door to door you would run the risk of keeping it all your life in
that green baize of yours； without ever finding even a cook foolish enough
to buy it from you。〃
〃Certainly Monsieur；〃 the little man answered； out of pure good…
nature。
And； all smiling again； he offered me the 〃Amours d'Heloise et
d'Abeilard〃； but I made him understand that； at my age； I had no use for
love…stories。
Still smiling； he proposed me the 〃Regle des Jeux de la Societe〃
piquet； bezique； ecarte； whist； dice； draughts； and chess。
〃Alas！〃 I said to him； 〃if you want to make me remember the rules of
bezique； give me back my old friend Bignan； with whom I used to play
cards every evening before the Five Academies solemnly escorted him to
the cemetery； or else bring down to the frivolous level of human
amusements the grave intelligence of Hamilcar； whom you see on that
cushion； for he is the sole companion of my evenings。〃
The little man's smile became vague and uneasy。
〃Here；〃 he said； 〃is a new collection of society amusementsjokes and
punswith a receipt for changing a red rose to a white rose。〃
I told him that I had fallen out with the roses for a long time； and that；
as to jokes； I was satisfied with those which I unconsciously permitted
myself to make in the course of my scientific labours。
The homunculus offered me his last book； with his last smile。 He said
to me：
〃Here is the Clef des Songesthe 'Key of Dreams'with the
explanation of any dreams that anybody can have； dreams of gold； dreams
of robbers； dreams of death； dreams of falling from the top of a tower。。。。 It
is exhaustive。〃
I had taken hold of the tongs； and； brandishing them energetically； I
replied to my commercial visitor：
〃Yes； my friend； but those dreams and a thousand others； joyous or
tragic； are all summed up in onethe Dream of Life； is your little yellow
book able to give me the key to that？〃
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The Crime of Sylvestre Bonnard
〃Yes； Monsieur；〃 answered the homunculu