The nights are already become cold and long; the sun, shining through mycurtains, no more wakens me long before the hour for work; and even whenmy eyes are open, the pleasant warmth of the bed keeps me fast under mycounterpane. Every morning there begins a long argument between myactivity and my indolence; and, snugly wrapped up to the eyes, I waitlike the Gascon, until they have succeeded in coming to an agreement.
This morning, however, a light, which shone from my door upon my pillow,awoke me earlier than usual. In vain I turned on my side; thepersevering light, like a victorious enemy, pursued me into everyposition. At last, quite out of patience, I sat up and hurled mynightcap to the foot of the bed!
(I will observe, by way of parenthesis, that the various evolutions ofthis pacific headgear seem to have been, from the remotest time, symbolsof the vehement emotions of the mind; for our language has borrowed itsmost common images from them.)
But be this as it may, I got up in a very bad humor, grumbling at my newneighbor, who took it into his head to be wakeful when I wished to sleep.
We are all made thus; we do not understand that others may live on theirown account. Each one of us is like the earth, according to the oldsystem of Ptolemy, and thinks he can have the whole universe revolvearound himself. On this point, to make use of the metaphor alluded to:
Tous les hommes ont la tete dans le meme bonnet.
I had for the time being, as I have already said, thrown mine to theother end of my bed; and I slowly disengaged my legs from the warmbedclothes, while making a host of evil reflections upon theinconvenience of having neighbors.
For more than a month I had not had to complain of those whom chance hadgiven me; most of them only came in to sleep, and went away again onrising. I was almost always alone on this top story--alone with theclouds and the sparrows!
But at Paris nothing lasts; the current of life carries us along, likethe seaweed torn from the rock; the houses are vessels which take merepassengers. How many different faces have I already seen pass along thelanding-place belonging to our attics! How many companions of a few dayshave disappeared forever! Some are lost in that medley of the livingwhich whirls continually under the scourge of necessity, and others inthat resting-place of the dead, who sleep under the hand of God!
Peter the bookbinder is one of these last. Wrapped up in selfishness, helived alone and friendless, and he died as he had lived. His loss wasneither mourned by any one, nor disarranged anything in the world; therewas merely a ditch filled up in the graveyard, and an attic emptied inour house.
It is the same which my new neighbor has inhabited for the last few days.
To say truly (now that I am quite awake, and my ill humor is gone with mynightcap)--to say truly, this new neighbor, although rising earlier thansuits my idleness, is not the less a very good man: he carries hismisfortunes, as few know how to carry their good fortunes, withcheerfulness and moderation.
But fate has cruelly tried him. Father Chaufour is but the wreck of aman. In the place of one of his arms hangs an empty sleeve; his left legis made by the turner, and he drags the right along with difficulty; butabove these ruins rises a calm and happy face. While looking upon hiscountenance, radiant with a serene energy, while listening to his voice,the tone of which has, so to speak, the accent of goodness, we see thatthe soul has remained entire in the half-destroyed covering. Thefortress is a little damaged, as Father Chaufour says, but the garrisonis quite hearty.
Decidedly, the more I think of this excellent man, the more I reproachmyself for the sort of malediction I bestowed on him when I awoke.
We are generally too indulgent in our secret wrongs toward our neighbor.
All ill-will which does not pass the region of thought seems innocent tous, and, with our clumsy justice, we excuse without examination the sinwhich does not betray itself by action!
But are we then bound to others only by the enforcement of laws? Besidesthese external relations, is there not a real relation of feeling betweenmen? Do we not owe to all those who live under the same heaven asourselves the aid not only of our acts but of our purposes? Ought notevery human life to be to us like a vessel that we accompany with ourprayers for a happy voyage? It is not enough that men do not harm oneanother; they must also help and love one another! The papalbenediction, Urbi et orbi! should be the constant cry from all hearts.
To condemn him who does not deserve it, even in the mind, even by apassing thought, is to break the great law, that which has establishedthe union of souls here below, and to which Christ has given the sweetname of charity.
These thoughts came into my mind as I finished dressing, and I said tomyself that Father Chaufour had a right to reparation from me. To makeamends for the feeling of ill-will I had against him just now, I owed himsome explicit proof of sympathy. I heard him humming a tune in his room;he was at work, and I determined that I would make the first neighborlycall.
Eight oclock PM--I found Father Chaufour at a table lighted by alittle smoky lamp, without a fire, although it is already cold, andmaking large pasteboard boxes; he was humming a popular song in a lowtone. I had hardly entered the room when he uttered an exclamation ofsurprise and pleasure.
"Eh! is it you, neighbor? Come in, then! I did not think you got up soearly, so I put a damper on my music; I was afraid of waking you."
Excellent man! while I was sending him to the devil he was puttinghimself out of his way for me!
This thought touched me, and I paid my compliments on his having becomemy neighbor with a warmth which opened his heart.
"Faith! you seem to me to have the look of a good Christian," said he ina voice of soldierlike cordiality, and shaking me by the hand. "I do notlike those people who look on a landing-place as a frontier line, andtreat their neighbors as if they were Cossacks. When men snuff the sameair, and speak the same lingo, they are not meant to turn their backs toeach other. Sit down there, neighbor; I dont mean to order you; onlytake care of the stool; it has but three legs, and we must put good-willin place of the fourth."
"It seems that that is a treasure which there is no want of here," Iobserved.
"Good-will!" repeated Chaufour; "that is all my mother left me, and Itake it no son has received a better inheritance. Therefore they used tocall me Monsieur Content in the batteries."
"You are a soldier, then?"
"I served in the Third Artillery under the Republic, and afterward in theGuard, through all the commotions. I was at Jemappes and at Waterloo; soI was at the christening and at the burial of our glory, as one may say!"
I looked at him with astonishment.
"And how old were you then, at Jemappes?" asked I.
"Somewhere about fifteen," said he.
"How came you to think of being a soldier so early?"
"I did not really think about it. I then worked at toy-making, and neverdreamed that France would ask me for anything else than to make herdraught-boards, shuttlecocks, and cups and balls. But I had an old uncleat Vincennes whom I went to see from time to time--a Fontenoy veteran inthe same rank of life as myself, but with ability enough to have risen tothat of a marshal. Unluckily, in those days there was no way for commonpeople to get on. My uncle, whose services would have got him made aprince under the other, had then retired with the mere rank of sub-lieutenant. But you should have seen him in his uniform, his cross ofSt. Louis, his wooden leg, his white moustaches, and his noblecountenance. You would have said he was a portrait of one of those oldheroes in powdered hair which are at Versailles!
"Every time I visited him, he said something which remained fixed in mymemory. But one day I found him quite grave.
"Jerome, said he, do you know what is going on on the frontier?
"No, lieutenant, replied I.
"Well, resumed he, our country is in danger!
"I did not well understand him, and yet it seemed something to me.
"Perhaps you have never thought what your country means, continued he,placing his hand on my shoulder; `it is all that surrounds you, all thathas brought you up and fed you, all that you have loved! This groundthat you see, these houses, these trees, those girls who go along therelaughing--this is your country! The laws which protect you, the breadwhich pays for your work, the words you interchange with others, the joyand grief which come to you from the men and things among which you live--this is your country! The little room where you used to see yourmother, the remembrances she has left you, the earth where she rests--this is your country! You see it, you breathe it, everywhere! Think toyourself, my son, of your rights and your duties, your affections andyour wants, your past and your present blessings; write them all under asingle name--and that name will be your country!
"I was trembling with emotion, and great tears were in my eyes.
"Ah! I understand, cried I; it is our home in large; it is that partof the world where God has placed our body and our soul.
"You are right, Jerome, continued the old soldier; so you comprehendalso what we owe it.
"Truly, resumed I, we owe it all that we are; it is a question oflove.
"And of honesty, my son, concluded he. The member of a family whodoes not contribute his share of work and of happiness fails in his duty,and is a bad kinsman; the member of a partnership who does not enrich itwith all his might, with all his courage, and with all his heart,defrauds it of what belongs to it, and is a dishonest man. It is thesame with him who enjoys the advantages of having a country, and does notaccept the burdens of it; he forfeits his honor, and is a bad citizen!
"And what must one do, lieutenant, to be a good citizen? asked I.
"Do for your country what you would do for your father and mother, saidhe.
"I did not answer at the moment; my heart was swelling, and the bloodboiling in my veins; but on returning along the road, my uncles wordswere, so to speak, written up before my eyes. I repeated, Do for yourcountry what you would do for your father and mother. And my country isin danger; an enemy attacks it, while I--I turn cups and balls!
"This thought tormented me so much all night that the next day I returnedto Vincennes to announce to the lieutenant that I had just enlisted, andwas going off to the frontier. The brave man pressed upon me his crossof St. Louis, and I went away as proud as an ambassador.
"That is how, neighbor, I became a volunteer under the Republic before Ihad cut my wisdom teeth."
All this was told quietly, and in the cheerful spirit of him who looksupon an accomplished duty neither as a merit nor a grievance.
While he spoke, Father Chaufour grew animated, not on account of himself,but of the general subject. Evidently that which occupied him in thedrama of life was not his own part, but the drama itself.
This sort of disinterestedness touched me. I prolonged my visit, andshowed myself as frank as possible, in order to win his confidence inreturn. In an hours time he knew my position and my habits; I was onthe footing of an old acquaintance.
I even confessed the ill-humor the light of his lamp put me into a shorttime before. He took what I said with the touching cheerfulness whichcomes from a heart in the right place, and which looks upon everything onthe good side. He neither spoke to me of the necessity which obliged himto work while I could sleep, nor of the deprivations of the old soldiercompared to the luxury of the young clerk; he only struck his forehead,accused himself of thoughtlessness, and promised to put list round hisdoor!
O great and beautiful soul! with whom nothing turns to bitterness, andwho art peremptory only in duty and benevolence!
October 15th.--This morning I was looking at a little engraving I hadframed myself, and hung over my writing-table; it is a design ofGavarnis; in which, in a grave mood, he has represented a veteran and aconscript.
By often contemplating these two figures, so different in expression, andso true to life, both have become living in my eyes; I have seen themmove, I have heard them speak; the picture has become a real scene, atwhich I am present as spectator.
The veteran advances slowly, his hand leaning on the shoulder of theyoung soldier. His eyes, closed for ever, no longer perceive the sunshining through the flowering chestnut-trees. In the place of his rightarm hangs an empty sleeve, and he walks with a wooden leg, the sound ofwhich on the pavement makes those who pass turn to look.
At the sight of this ancient wreck from our patriotic wars, the greaternumber shake their heads in pity, and I seem to hear a sigh or animprecation.
"See the worth of glory!" says a portly merchant, turning away his eyesin horror.
"What a deplorable use of human life!" rejoins a young man who carries avolume of philosophy under his arm.
"The trooper would better not have left his plow," adds a countryman,with a cunning air.
"Poor old man!" murmurs a woman, almost crying.
The veteran has heard, and he knits his brow; for it seems to him thathis guide has grown thoughtful. The latter, attracted by what he hearsaround him, hardly answers the old mans questions, and his eyes, vaguelylost in space, seem to be seeking there for the solution of some problem.
I seem to see a twitching in the gray moustaches of the veteran; he stopsabruptly, and, holding back his guide with his remaining arm:
"They all pity me," says he, "because they do not understand it; but if Iwere to answer them--"
"What would you say to them, father?" asks the young man, withcuriosity.
"I should say first to the woman who weeps when she looks at me, to keepher tears for other misfortunes; for each of my wounds calls to mind somestruggle for my colors. There is room for doubting how some men havedone their duty; with me it is visible. I carry the account of myservices, written with the enemys steel and lead, on myself; to pity mefor having done my duty is to suppose I would better have been false toit."
"And what would you say to the countryman, father?"
"I should tell him that, to drive the plow in peace, we must first securethe country itself; and that, as long as there are foreigners ready toeat our harvest, there must be arms to defend it."
"But the young student, too, shook his head when he lamented such a useof life."
"Because he does not know what self-sacrifice and suffering can teach.
The books that he studies we have put in practice, though we never readthem: the principles he applauds we have defended with powder andbayonet."
"And at the price of your limbs and your blood. The merchant said, whenhe saw your maimed body, See the worth of glory!"
"Do not believe him, my son: the true glory is the bread of the soul; itis this which nourishes self-sacrifice, patience, and courage. TheMaster of all has bestowed it as a tie the more between men. When wedesire to be distinguished by our brethren, do we not thus prove ouresteem and our sympathy for them? The longing for admiration is but oneside of love. No, no; the true glory can never be too dearly paid for!
That which we should deplore, child, is not the infirmities which prove agenerous self-sacrifice, but those which our vices or our imprudence havecalled forth. Ah! if I could speak aloud to those who, when passing,cast looks of pity upon me, I should say to the young man whose excesseshave dimmed his sight before he is old, What have you done with youreyes? To the slothful man, who with difficulty drags along hisenervated mass of flesh, What have you done with your feet? To the oldman, who is punished for his intemperance by the gout, What have youdone with your hands? To all, What have you done with the days Godgranted you, with the faculties you should have employed for the good ofyour brethren? If you cannot answer, bestow no more of your pity uponthe old soldier maimed in his countrys cause; for he--he at least--canshow his scars without shame."
October 16th.--The little engraving has made me comprehend better themerits of Father Chaufour, and I therefore esteem him all the more.
He has just now left my attic. There no longer passes a single daywithout his coming to work by my fire, or my going to sit and talk by hisboard.
The old artilleryman has seen much, and likes to tell of it. For twentyyears he was an armed traveller throughout Europe, and he fought withouthatred, for he was possessed by a single thought--the honor of thenational flag! It might have been his superstition, if you will; but itwas, at the same time, his safeguard.
The word FRANCE, which was then resounding so gloriously through theworld, served as a talisman to him against all sorts of temptation. Tohave to support a great name may seem a burden to vulgar minds, but it isan encouragement to vigorous ones.
"I, too, have had many moments," said he to me the other day, "when Ihave been tempted to make friends with the devil. War is not preciselythe school for rural virtues. By dint of burning, destroying, andkilling, you grow a little tough as regards your feelings; and, when thebayonet has made you king, the notions of an autocrat come into your heada little strongly. But at these moments I called to mind that countrywhich the lieutenant spoke of to me, and I whispered to myself the well-known phrase, Toujours Francais! It has been laughed at since. Peoplewho would make a joke of the death of their mother have turned it intoridicule, as if the name of our country was not also a noble and abinding thing. For my part, I shall never forget from how many folliesthe title of Frenchman has kept me. When, overcome with fatigue, I havefound myself in the rear of the colors, and when the musketry wasrattling in the front ranks, many a time I heard a voice, which whisperedin my ear, Leave the other s to fight, and for today take care of yourown hide! But then, that word Francais! murmured within me, and Ipressed forward to help my comrades. At other times, when, irritated byhunger, cold, and wounds, I have arrived at the hovel of some Meinherr,I have been seized by an itching to break the masters back, and to burnhis hut; but I whispered to myself, Francais! and this name would notrhyme with either incendiary or murderer. I have, in this way, passedthrough kingdoms from east to west, and from north to south, alwaysdetermined not to bring disgrace upon my countrys flag. The lieutenant,you see, had taught me a magic word--My country! Not only must we defendit, but we must also make it great and loved."
October 17th.--To-day I have paid my neighbor a long visit. A chanceexpression led the way to his telling me more of himself than he had yetdone.
I asked him whether both his limbs had been lost in the same battle.
"No, no!" replied he; "the cannon only took my leg; it was the Clamartquarries that my arm went to feed."
And when I asked him for the particulars--
"Thats as easy as to say good-morning," continued he. "After the greatbreak-up at Waterloo, I stayed three months in the camp hospital to givemy wooden leg time to grow. As soon as I was able to hobble a little,I took leave of headquarters, and took the road to Paris, where I hopedto find some relative or friend; but no--all were gone, or underground.
I should have found myself less strange at Vienna, Madrid, or Berlin.
And although I had a leg the less to provide for, I was none the betteroff; my appetite had come back, and my last sous were taking flight.
"I had indeed met my old colonel, who recollected that I had helped himout of the skirmish at Montereau by giving him my horse, and he hadoffered me bed and board at his house. I knew that the year before hehad married a castle and no few farms, so that I might become permanentcoat-brusher to a millionaire, which was not without its temptations.
It remained to see if I had not anything better to do. One evening I setmyself to reflect upon it.
"Let us see, Chaufour, said I to myself; the question is to act like aman. The colonels place suits you, but cannot you do anything better?
Your body is still in good condition, and your arms strong; do you notowe all your strength to your country, as your Vincennes uncle said? Whynot leave some old soldier, more cut up than you are, to get his hospitalat the colonels? Come, trooper, you are still fit for another stoutcharge or two! You must not lay up before your time.
"Whereupon I went to thank the colonel, and to offer my services to anold artilleryman, who had gone back to his home at Clamart, and who hadtaken up the quarrymans pick again.
"For the first few months I played the conscripts part--that is to say,there was more stir than work; but with a good will one gets the betterof stones, as of everything else. I did not become, so to speak, theleader of a column, but I brought up the rank among the good workmen,and I ate my bread with a good appetite, seeing I had earned it with agood will. For even underground, you see, I still kept my pride. Thethought that I was working to do my part in changing rocks into housespleased my heart. I said to myself, Courage, Chaufour, my old boy; youare helping to beautify your country. And that kept up my spirit.
"Unfortunately, some of my companions were rather too sensible to thecharms of the brandy-bottle; so much so, that one day one of them, whocould hardly distinguish his right hand from his left, thought proper tostrike a light close to a charged mine. The mine exploded suddenly, andsent a shower of stone grape among us, which killed three men, andcarried away the arm of which I have now only the sleeve."
"So you were again without means of living?" said I to the old soldier.
"That is to say, I had to change them," replied he, quietly. "Thedifficulty was to find one which would do with five fingers instead often; I found it, however."
"How was that?"
"Among the Paris street-sweepers."
"What! you have been one--"
"Of the pioneers of the health force for a while, neighbor, and that wasnot my worst time either. The corps of sweepers is not so low as it isdirty, I can tell you! There are old actresses in it who could neverlearn to save their money, and ruined merchants from the exchange; weeven had a professor of classics, who for a little drink would reciteLatin to you, or Greek tragedies, as you chose. They could not havecompeted for the Monthyon prize; but we excused faults on account ofpoverty, and cheered our poverty by our good-humor and jokes. I was asragged and as cheerful as the rest, while trying to be something better.
Even in the mire of the gutter I preserved my faith that nothing isdishonorable which is useful to our country.
"Chaufour, said I to myself with a smile, after the sword, the hammer;after the hammer, the broom; you are going downstairs, my old boy, butyou are still serving your country."
"However, you ended by leaving your new profession? said I."
"A reform was required, neighbor. The street-sweepers seldom have theirfeet dry, and the damp at last made the wounds in my good leg open again.
I could no longer follow the regiment, and it was necessary to lay downmy arms. It is now two months since I left off working in the sanitarydepartment of Paris.
"At the first moment I was daunted. Of my four limbs, I had now only myright hand, and even that had lost its strength; so it was necessary tofind some gentlemanly occupation for it. After trying a little ofeverything, I fell upon card-box making, and here I am at cases for thelace and buttons of the national guard; it is work of little profit, butit is within the capacity of all. By getting up at four and working tilleight, I earn sixty-five centimes; my lodging and bowl of soup take fiftyof them, and there are three sous over for luxuries. So I am richer thanFrance herself, for I have no deficit in my budget; and I continue toserve her, as I save her lace and buttons."
At these words Father Chaufour looked at me with a smile, and with hisgreat scissors began cutting the green paper again for his cardboardcases. My heart was touched, and I remained lost in thought.
Here is still another member of that sacred phalanx who, in the battle oflife, always march in front for the example and the salvation of theworld! Each of these brave soldiers has his war-cry; for this one it is"Country," for that "Home," for a third "Mankind;" but they all followthe same standard--that of duty; for all the same divine law reigns--thatof self-sacrifice. To love something more than ones self--that is thesecret of all that is great; to know how to live for others--that is theaim of all noble souls.