: she and his grandfather
Tournesi, the soldier peasant of whom his mother told him, and whose
courageous deeds he has described in his work on "Justice." Proudhon,
who always felt a great veneration for his mother Catharine, gave
her name to the elder of his daughters. In 1814, when Besancon was
blockaded, Mouillere, which stood in front of the walls of the town, was
destroyed in the defence of the place; and Proudhon's father established
a cooper's shop in a suburb of Battant, called Vignerons. Very honest,
but simple-minded and short-sighted, this cooper, the father of five
children, of whom Pierre Joseph was the eldest, passed his life in
poverty. At eight years of age, Proudhon either made himself useful in
the house, or tended the cattle out of doors. No one should fail to read
that beautiful and precious page of his work on "Justice," in which he
describes the rural sports which he enjoyed when a neatherd. At the age
of twelve, he was a cellar-boy in an inn. This, however, did not prevent
him from studying.

His mother was greatly aided by M. Renaud, the former owner of the
brewery, who had at that time retired from business, and was engaged in
the education of his children.

Proudhon entered school as a day-scholar in the sixth class. He was
necessarily irregular in his attendance; domestic cares and restraints
sometimes kept him from his classes. He succeeded nevertheless in his
studies; he showed great perseverance. His family were so poor that they
could not afford to furnish him with books; he was obliged to borrow
them from his comrades, and copy the text of his lessons. He has himself
told us that he was obliged to leave his wooden shoes outside the door,
that he might not disturb the classes with his noise; and that, having
no hat, he went to school bareheaded. One day, towards the close of his
studies, on returning from the distribution of the prizes, loaded with
crowns, he found nothing to eat in the house.

"In his eagerness for labor and his thirst for knowledge, Proudhon,"
says Sainte Beuve, "was not content with the instruction of his
teachers. From his twelfth to his fourteenth year, he was a constant
frequenter of the town library. One curiosity led to another, and he
called for book after book, sometimes eight or ten at one sitting. The
learned librarian, the friend and almost the brother of Charles Nodier,
M. Weiss, approached him one day, and said, smiling, 'But, my little
friend, what do