On the face of it, this is a story about a middle-aged country priest who brings a blind orphan girl into his home, with tragic consequences. But there is a lot more to it than that.
The pastor and his wife, Amélie, have five children. The youngest is still howling in his cradle. The oldest, Jacques is old enough to attend a theological college and later, to enter the priesthood.
The presence of pretty, blind Gertrude sets Jacques and his father against one another. They challenge each other’s behaviour by quoting the words of the Gospels. The pastor reminds himself of the words of Christ, whose divine compassion prohibits nothing. Jacques, on the other hand, invokes the words of St Paul, who interprets Christian teaching more harshly.
In the end, Jacques converts to Catholicism in retaliation against his father’s flawed spirituality. Yet the story is less concerned with the details of religious creed than with how we use rational arguments to validate moral choices that are wholly influenced by our natural inclinations.
Nor is this a simple moral fable, for the story is told with great skill and sensitivity. We are aware of the characters’ feelings for one another before they are spelled out in so many words. We especially feel Amélie’s pain from the first moment that Gertrude is brought into the house.
Gide’s skill is to make us empathise with every character’s point of view. Amélie, we are told, is often the one who is made to suffer for her husband’s charitable actions. The children are seen to have their own complex reactions. Charlotte, who is warm and affectionate, is very alive even though no more than a few sentences are used to describe her.
Gertrude, the blind orphan, is awakened to an intense and spiritual appreciation of the natural world and we can experience both her joy and frustration. The significance of Beethoven’s symphony, which the pastor takes Gertrude to as part of her education, is that it acts as an aural equivalent for the colours she cannot see, and shows her both the possibilities of what she is missing and the impossibility of replacing one sense with another.
Throughout, because the story is narrated by the pastor, we are aware of the author’s distance from his subject. There is some subtle humour due to the unconscious irony in the pastor’s words, such as when he tries to stay calm in the face of his wife’s anger at him for bringing the blind girl home:
“At the beginning of her outburst, some of Christ’s words rose from my heart to my lips; I kept them back, however, for I never think it becoming to allege the authority of the Holy Book as an excuse for my conduct.”
On the contrary, this is a man who alleges the authority of the Holy Book for his every action. His peculiar serenity of tone is due to a psychological blindness that is far more limiting in the end than Gertrude’s physical one. His duty, desire and faith exist almost independently of one another and he is unable to see cause and effect even within his own family.
But Gide’s is not a dismissive irony. You can sense that Gide is himself deeply invested in the words of the Holy Book. He takes them seriously and this is no lightweight rejection of the Christian creed but a deeply imagined narrative response which encourages close reading and careful thought.
The novella that is paired with this, Isabella, was a real delight. Once again it is presented in a sophisticated framework, this time as a narrative within a narrative; a happily married man is telling a group of friends about how he fell in love with a woman after seeing a miniature portrait of her that was shown to him by her young son.
Before we even get to that key moment, however, we are introduced to a fascinating group of characters who present a lively and humorous backdrop to the events which ultimately transpire. It's an odd little story — quite comical in the first half, poignant and sad in the second half. It’s romantic and cynical almost at the same time, and yet not so cynical that there isn’t room for kindness, generosity and even love, particularly in some of the details that frame the main story.
I enjoyed both novellas very much from the first sentence to the last and they have made me very curious about the rest of Gide’s work, which promises to be rich in sharply observed human foibles while at the same time full of hope for the potential of the human spirit.