Post by offramp on Jul 6, 2020 19:00:40 GMT
Courtesy of Google translate...
My uncle Sosthenes was a free thinker as there are many, a free thinker out of stupidity. We are often religious in the same way. The sight of a priest threw him into inconceivable fury; he would show him his fist, make horns for him, and touch the iron behind his back, which already indicates a belief, the belief in the evil eye. When it comes to irrational beliefs, you have to have them all or not have them at all. I, who am also a free thinker, that is to say a rebel against all the dogmas which the fear of death invented, I have no anger against the temples, whether they are Catholic, Apostolic, Roman, Protestants, Russians, Greeks, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims. And then, I have a way of considering and explaining them. A temple is a tribute to the unknown. The more the thought widens, the more the unknown decreases, the more the temples collapse. But instead of putting censers in it, I would place telescopes and microscopes and electrical machines there. Here!
My uncle and I differed on almost every point. He was a patriot, I am not, because patriotism is still a religion. It is the egg of war.
My uncle was a Freemason. I declare the Freemasons dumber than the old devotees. This is my opinion and I support it. As long as having a religion, the old would suffice for me.
These boobies only imitate the priests. Their symbol is a triangle instead of a cross. They have churches which they call Lodges with a bunch of diverse cults: the Scottish rite, the French rite, the Grand Orient, a series of nonsense to die of laughter.
Then what do they want? Help each other by tickling the back of the hand. I see no harm in it. They put into practice the Christian precept: “Help one another. The only difference is in the tickling. But is it worth it to do so many ceremonies to lend a hundred pennies to a poor devil? Religious, for whom alms and aid are a duty and a profession, write three letters at the head of their epistles: JMJ The Freemasons place three dots at the end of their names. Back to back, buddies!
My uncle replied: "Precisely, we elevate religion against religion. We make free thought the weapon that will kill clericalism. Freemasonry is the citadel where all the demolishers of deities are recruited. "
I retaliated: "But, my good uncle" (basically I said: "old mold"), that's exactly what I blame you for. Instead of destroying, you organize competition: that lowers prices, that's all. And then again, if you admitted only free thinkers among you, I would understand; but you receive everyone. You have mass Catholics, even party leaders. Pius IX was with you before being pope. If you call a Society thus composed a citadel against clericalism, I find it weak, your citadel. "
Then my uncle, winking, added: "Our real action, our most formidable action takes place in politics. We undermine, in a continuous and sure way, the monarchical spirit. This time I burst out. "Ah! yes, you are smart! If you tell me that Freemasonry is an election factory, I grant you; that it serves as a voting machine for candidates of all shades, I will never deny it; that it has no other function than to fool the good people, to regiment them to make them go to the ballot box as soldiers are sent to fire, I will be of your opinion; that it is useful, essential even for all political ambitions because it changes each of its members into an electoral agent, I will cry to you:
“Consider me a little this vast and mysterious democratic association, which had for grandmaster, in Germany, the crown prince; in Russia, the Czar's brother; which include King Humbert and the Prince of Wales, and all the crowned cabochos of the globe! "
This time my uncle slipped into my ear:" It's true, but all these princes serve our projects without knowing. "
- And vice versa, isn't it?
And I added in myself: "Pile of fools! And you had to see my uncle Sosthenes offer dinner to a Freemason.
They met first and touched their hands with a completely funny mysterious air, we saw that they were engaged in a series of secret pressures. When I wanted to anger my uncle, I had only to remind him that dogs also have a very Freemasonic way of recognizing themselves.
Then my uncle took his friend to the corners, as if to entrust him with considerable things; then, at the table, face to face, they had a way of considering themselves, meeting their eyes, drinking with a glance as if to repeat themselves incessantly: "We are there, huh? "
And to think they are so millions on earth who enjoy these antics! I would rather be a Jesuit.
Now, there was in our town an old Jesuit who was the bete noire of my uncle Sosthenes. Each time he met him, or only if he saw him from afar, he murmured: "Crapule, va! Then taking my arm, he confided in my ear: "You will see that this rascal will hurt me one day or the other." I feel it. "
My uncle was right. And this is how the accident happened through my fault.
We were approaching Holy Week. So my uncle had the idea of organizing a fatty dinner for Friday, but a real dinner, with andouille and cervelas. I resisted as long as I could; I said, "I will be fat as always that day, but all alone, at home. Your manifestation is silly. Why demonstrate? How does it bother you that people don't eat meat? "
But my uncle held out. He invited three friends to the city's first restaurant; and since he was the one paying, neither did I refuse to demonstrate.
From four o'clock, we occupied a prominent place at the Pénelope café, the best attended; and my uncle Sosthenes, in a loud voice, recounted his menu.
At six o'clock we sat down to table. At ten o'clock we were still eating; and we had drunk five, eighteen bottles of fine wine, plus four bottles of champagne. So my uncle proposed what he called the "Archbishop's tour". We placed in line in front of us, six small glasses which we filled with different liqueurs; then they had to empty out one after the other while one of the assistants counted to twenty. It was stupid; but my uncle Sosthenes thought it "appropriate".
At eleven o'clock, he was gray like a cantor. He had to be taken away by car, and put to bed; and already one could foresee that its anticlerical manifestation would turn into a terrible indigestion.
As I returned to my house, gray myself, but with a gay intoxication, a Machiavellian idea, which satisfied all my instincts of skepticism, crossed my head.
I adjusted my tie, I looked desperate, and went to ring the doorbell of the old Jesuit. He was deaf; he made me wait. But as I kicked the whole house, he finally appeared, in a cotton cap, at his window, and asked: "What do you want from me?" "
I shouted:" Quick, quick, reverend father, open me; it is a desperate patient who demands your holy ministry! "
The poor fellow immediately put on pants and went down without a cassock. I told him in a breathless voice, that my uncle, the free thinker, suddenly seized by a terrible uneasiness which made foresee a very serious illness, had been taken of a great fear of death, and that he wanted him to see, to chat with him, to listen to his advice, to know beliefs better, to get closer to the Church, and doubtless to confess, then to commune, in order to cross in peace with himself the dreaded step.
And I added in a rebellious tone: “He desires it; well, if it doesn't do him any good it still won't hurt him. "
The old Jesuit, terrified, delighted, trembling, said to me: "Wait a minute, my child, I am coming." "But I added:" Excuse me, my reverend father, I will not accompany you, my convictions do not allow me. I even refused to pick you up; I would therefore ask you not to confess that you saw me, but to say that you were warned of my uncle's illness by a sort of revelation. "
The man consented, and went away with a quick step, ring the doorbell of my uncle Sosthenes. The servant who looked after the patient soon opened; and I saw the black cassock disappear in this fortress of free thought.
I hid under a nearby door to await the event. In good health, my uncle would have knocked out the Jesuit, but I knew he was unable to move an arm, and I wondered with delirious joy what incredible scene was going to play out between these two antagonists? What struggle? what explanation? what amazement? what scramble? and what was the outcome of this hopeless situation, which my uncle's indignation would make even more tragic?
I laughed all alone at holding my ribs; I repeated to myself in a low voice: “Ah! good stuffing, good stuffing! "
But it was cold, and I noticed that the Jesuit stayed a long time. I said to myself, "They explain themselves. "
An hour passed, then two, then three. The Reverend Father did not go out. What had happened? Had my uncle died of seizure on seeing him? Or had he killed the man in his cassock? Or had they eaten each other? This last supposition seemed unlikely to me, my uncle seeming to me at the moment incapable of absorbing an extra gram of food. Day broke.
Worried, and not daring to enter in my turn, I remembered that one of my friends was just opposite. I went to his house; I told him the thing, which surprised him and made him laugh, and I ambushed at his window.
At nine o'clock he took my place, and I slept a little. At two o'clock, I too replaced him. We were inordinately disturbed.
At six o'clock the Jesuit came out with a peaceful and satisfied air, and we saw him walk away with a calm step.
So ashamed and shy, I too rang the bell at my uncle's door. The servant appeared. I dared not question him and went upstairs, without saying anything.
My uncle Sosthenes, pale, defeated, dejected, his eyes dull, his arms inert, lay in his bed. A small image of piety was stuck on the curtain with a pin.
There was a strong feeling of indigestion in the room.
I say, "Well, uncle, are you in bed? Are you not ok? "
He replied in a dejected voice:" Oh! my poor child, I was very sick, I almost died. ”
- What do you mean, uncle?
- I do not know ; it’s amazing. But the strangest thing is that the Jesuit father coming out of here, you know, that good man I couldn't bear, well, he had a revelation of my condition, and he came to find me.
I was seized with a terrible need to laugh. "Ah! Really ? "
- Yes, he came. He heard a voice telling him to get up and come because I was going to die. It is a revelation.
I pretended to sneeze so as not to burst. I wanted to roll myself on the ground.
At the end of a minute, I resumed in an indignant tone, in spite of flares of gaiety: "And you received it, uncle, you? a free thinker? a freemason? Didn't you throw him out? He looked confused, and stammered: "Look, it was so amazing, so providential! And then he told me about my father. He knew my father once. "
" Your father, uncle?
- Yes, it seems that he knew my father.
- But that is not a reason to receive a Jesuit.
- I know that, but I was sick, so sick! And he looked after me with great dedication all night. He was perfect. It was he who saved me. They are a bit of a doctor, these people.
- Ah! he looked after you all night. But did you tell me right away that he only came out of here?
- Yes, it's true. As he had shown himself excellent towards me, I kept him for lunch. He ate there by my bed, on a small table, while I was having a cup of tea.
- And ... did it get fat?
My uncle crumpled, as if I had just committed a gross impropriety; and he added:
- Don't joke, Gaston, there are mocking taunts. This man was on this occasion more devoted to me than any parent; I hear that we respect his convictions.
This time I was amazed; I replied nevertheless:
- Very well, uncle. And after lunch, what did you do?
- We played a game of Bésigue, then he said his breviary, while I was reading a little book he had on him, and which is not badly written at all.
- A pious book, uncle?
- Yes and no, or rather no, this is the story of their missions in Central Africa. It is rather a travel and adventure book. It is very beautiful what they did there, these men. "
I was beginning to find it went wrong. I stood up: "Come, goodbye, uncle, I see that you are leaving Freemasonry for religion. You are a renegade. "
He was still a little confused and whispered," But religion is a kind of freemasonry. "
I asked," When he comes back, your Jesuit? My uncle stammered, "I ... I don't know, maybe tomorrow ... it's not sure." "
And I went, absolutely stunned.
It has gone wrong, my prank! My uncle is radically converted. Until then, I didn't care. Clerical or Freemason, for me it's white cap and white cap; but the worst is that he has just tested, yes, tested and disinherited me, sir, in favor of the Jesuit father.
My uncle Sosthenes was a free thinker as there are many, a free thinker out of stupidity. We are often religious in the same way. The sight of a priest threw him into inconceivable fury; he would show him his fist, make horns for him, and touch the iron behind his back, which already indicates a belief, the belief in the evil eye. When it comes to irrational beliefs, you have to have them all or not have them at all. I, who am also a free thinker, that is to say a rebel against all the dogmas which the fear of death invented, I have no anger against the temples, whether they are Catholic, Apostolic, Roman, Protestants, Russians, Greeks, Buddhists, Jews, Muslims. And then, I have a way of considering and explaining them. A temple is a tribute to the unknown. The more the thought widens, the more the unknown decreases, the more the temples collapse. But instead of putting censers in it, I would place telescopes and microscopes and electrical machines there. Here!
My uncle and I differed on almost every point. He was a patriot, I am not, because patriotism is still a religion. It is the egg of war.
My uncle was a Freemason. I declare the Freemasons dumber than the old devotees. This is my opinion and I support it. As long as having a religion, the old would suffice for me.
These boobies only imitate the priests. Their symbol is a triangle instead of a cross. They have churches which they call Lodges with a bunch of diverse cults: the Scottish rite, the French rite, the Grand Orient, a series of nonsense to die of laughter.
Then what do they want? Help each other by tickling the back of the hand. I see no harm in it. They put into practice the Christian precept: “Help one another. The only difference is in the tickling. But is it worth it to do so many ceremonies to lend a hundred pennies to a poor devil? Religious, for whom alms and aid are a duty and a profession, write three letters at the head of their epistles: JMJ The Freemasons place three dots at the end of their names. Back to back, buddies!
My uncle replied: "Precisely, we elevate religion against religion. We make free thought the weapon that will kill clericalism. Freemasonry is the citadel where all the demolishers of deities are recruited. "
I retaliated: "But, my good uncle" (basically I said: "old mold"), that's exactly what I blame you for. Instead of destroying, you organize competition: that lowers prices, that's all. And then again, if you admitted only free thinkers among you, I would understand; but you receive everyone. You have mass Catholics, even party leaders. Pius IX was with you before being pope. If you call a Society thus composed a citadel against clericalism, I find it weak, your citadel. "
Then my uncle, winking, added: "Our real action, our most formidable action takes place in politics. We undermine, in a continuous and sure way, the monarchical spirit. This time I burst out. "Ah! yes, you are smart! If you tell me that Freemasonry is an election factory, I grant you; that it serves as a voting machine for candidates of all shades, I will never deny it; that it has no other function than to fool the good people, to regiment them to make them go to the ballot box as soldiers are sent to fire, I will be of your opinion; that it is useful, essential even for all political ambitions because it changes each of its members into an electoral agent, I will cry to you:
“Consider me a little this vast and mysterious democratic association, which had for grandmaster, in Germany, the crown prince; in Russia, the Czar's brother; which include King Humbert and the Prince of Wales, and all the crowned cabochos of the globe! "
This time my uncle slipped into my ear:" It's true, but all these princes serve our projects without knowing. "
- And vice versa, isn't it?
And I added in myself: "Pile of fools! And you had to see my uncle Sosthenes offer dinner to a Freemason.
They met first and touched their hands with a completely funny mysterious air, we saw that they were engaged in a series of secret pressures. When I wanted to anger my uncle, I had only to remind him that dogs also have a very Freemasonic way of recognizing themselves.
Then my uncle took his friend to the corners, as if to entrust him with considerable things; then, at the table, face to face, they had a way of considering themselves, meeting their eyes, drinking with a glance as if to repeat themselves incessantly: "We are there, huh? "
And to think they are so millions on earth who enjoy these antics! I would rather be a Jesuit.
Now, there was in our town an old Jesuit who was the bete noire of my uncle Sosthenes. Each time he met him, or only if he saw him from afar, he murmured: "Crapule, va! Then taking my arm, he confided in my ear: "You will see that this rascal will hurt me one day or the other." I feel it. "
My uncle was right. And this is how the accident happened through my fault.
We were approaching Holy Week. So my uncle had the idea of organizing a fatty dinner for Friday, but a real dinner, with andouille and cervelas. I resisted as long as I could; I said, "I will be fat as always that day, but all alone, at home. Your manifestation is silly. Why demonstrate? How does it bother you that people don't eat meat? "
But my uncle held out. He invited three friends to the city's first restaurant; and since he was the one paying, neither did I refuse to demonstrate.
From four o'clock, we occupied a prominent place at the Pénelope café, the best attended; and my uncle Sosthenes, in a loud voice, recounted his menu.
At six o'clock we sat down to table. At ten o'clock we were still eating; and we had drunk five, eighteen bottles of fine wine, plus four bottles of champagne. So my uncle proposed what he called the "Archbishop's tour". We placed in line in front of us, six small glasses which we filled with different liqueurs; then they had to empty out one after the other while one of the assistants counted to twenty. It was stupid; but my uncle Sosthenes thought it "appropriate".
At eleven o'clock, he was gray like a cantor. He had to be taken away by car, and put to bed; and already one could foresee that its anticlerical manifestation would turn into a terrible indigestion.
As I returned to my house, gray myself, but with a gay intoxication, a Machiavellian idea, which satisfied all my instincts of skepticism, crossed my head.
I adjusted my tie, I looked desperate, and went to ring the doorbell of the old Jesuit. He was deaf; he made me wait. But as I kicked the whole house, he finally appeared, in a cotton cap, at his window, and asked: "What do you want from me?" "
I shouted:" Quick, quick, reverend father, open me; it is a desperate patient who demands your holy ministry! "
The poor fellow immediately put on pants and went down without a cassock. I told him in a breathless voice, that my uncle, the free thinker, suddenly seized by a terrible uneasiness which made foresee a very serious illness, had been taken of a great fear of death, and that he wanted him to see, to chat with him, to listen to his advice, to know beliefs better, to get closer to the Church, and doubtless to confess, then to commune, in order to cross in peace with himself the dreaded step.
And I added in a rebellious tone: “He desires it; well, if it doesn't do him any good it still won't hurt him. "
The old Jesuit, terrified, delighted, trembling, said to me: "Wait a minute, my child, I am coming." "But I added:" Excuse me, my reverend father, I will not accompany you, my convictions do not allow me. I even refused to pick you up; I would therefore ask you not to confess that you saw me, but to say that you were warned of my uncle's illness by a sort of revelation. "
The man consented, and went away with a quick step, ring the doorbell of my uncle Sosthenes. The servant who looked after the patient soon opened; and I saw the black cassock disappear in this fortress of free thought.
I hid under a nearby door to await the event. In good health, my uncle would have knocked out the Jesuit, but I knew he was unable to move an arm, and I wondered with delirious joy what incredible scene was going to play out between these two antagonists? What struggle? what explanation? what amazement? what scramble? and what was the outcome of this hopeless situation, which my uncle's indignation would make even more tragic?
I laughed all alone at holding my ribs; I repeated to myself in a low voice: “Ah! good stuffing, good stuffing! "
But it was cold, and I noticed that the Jesuit stayed a long time. I said to myself, "They explain themselves. "
An hour passed, then two, then three. The Reverend Father did not go out. What had happened? Had my uncle died of seizure on seeing him? Or had he killed the man in his cassock? Or had they eaten each other? This last supposition seemed unlikely to me, my uncle seeming to me at the moment incapable of absorbing an extra gram of food. Day broke.
Worried, and not daring to enter in my turn, I remembered that one of my friends was just opposite. I went to his house; I told him the thing, which surprised him and made him laugh, and I ambushed at his window.
At nine o'clock he took my place, and I slept a little. At two o'clock, I too replaced him. We were inordinately disturbed.
At six o'clock the Jesuit came out with a peaceful and satisfied air, and we saw him walk away with a calm step.
So ashamed and shy, I too rang the bell at my uncle's door. The servant appeared. I dared not question him and went upstairs, without saying anything.
My uncle Sosthenes, pale, defeated, dejected, his eyes dull, his arms inert, lay in his bed. A small image of piety was stuck on the curtain with a pin.
There was a strong feeling of indigestion in the room.
I say, "Well, uncle, are you in bed? Are you not ok? "
He replied in a dejected voice:" Oh! my poor child, I was very sick, I almost died. ”
- What do you mean, uncle?
- I do not know ; it’s amazing. But the strangest thing is that the Jesuit father coming out of here, you know, that good man I couldn't bear, well, he had a revelation of my condition, and he came to find me.
I was seized with a terrible need to laugh. "Ah! Really ? "
- Yes, he came. He heard a voice telling him to get up and come because I was going to die. It is a revelation.
I pretended to sneeze so as not to burst. I wanted to roll myself on the ground.
At the end of a minute, I resumed in an indignant tone, in spite of flares of gaiety: "And you received it, uncle, you? a free thinker? a freemason? Didn't you throw him out? He looked confused, and stammered: "Look, it was so amazing, so providential! And then he told me about my father. He knew my father once. "
" Your father, uncle?
- Yes, it seems that he knew my father.
- But that is not a reason to receive a Jesuit.
- I know that, but I was sick, so sick! And he looked after me with great dedication all night. He was perfect. It was he who saved me. They are a bit of a doctor, these people.
- Ah! he looked after you all night. But did you tell me right away that he only came out of here?
- Yes, it's true. As he had shown himself excellent towards me, I kept him for lunch. He ate there by my bed, on a small table, while I was having a cup of tea.
- And ... did it get fat?
My uncle crumpled, as if I had just committed a gross impropriety; and he added:
- Don't joke, Gaston, there are mocking taunts. This man was on this occasion more devoted to me than any parent; I hear that we respect his convictions.
This time I was amazed; I replied nevertheless:
- Very well, uncle. And after lunch, what did you do?
- We played a game of Bésigue, then he said his breviary, while I was reading a little book he had on him, and which is not badly written at all.
- A pious book, uncle?
- Yes and no, or rather no, this is the story of their missions in Central Africa. It is rather a travel and adventure book. It is very beautiful what they did there, these men. "
I was beginning to find it went wrong. I stood up: "Come, goodbye, uncle, I see that you are leaving Freemasonry for religion. You are a renegade. "
He was still a little confused and whispered," But religion is a kind of freemasonry. "
I asked," When he comes back, your Jesuit? My uncle stammered, "I ... I don't know, maybe tomorrow ... it's not sure." "
And I went, absolutely stunned.
It has gone wrong, my prank! My uncle is radically converted. Until then, I didn't care. Clerical or Freemason, for me it's white cap and white cap; but the worst is that he has just tested, yes, tested and disinherited me, sir, in favor of the Jesuit father.