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Updated: June 27, 2025
Where and with whomsoever I have lived I have always been considered to be entirely artless. These writings cannot but confirm it after my death. My Home at the Queen Pedauque Cookshop I turn the Spit and learn to read Entry of Abbe Jerome Coignard. My name is Elme Laurent Jacques Menetrier.
"Sir," said my mother, "he learns anything he wants to know and he'll be a priest if it pleases our Lord." M. Jerome Coignard added that I had profited in a certain way by his lessons, and my father asked the stranger if his lordship would not be disposed to eat a morsel.
That book of Enoch, M. Abbe Coignard, is the more precious because therein are to be seen the first talks the daughters of man had with the Sylphs. You must understand that those angels which as Enoch shows us had love connection with women were Sylphs and Salamanders." "I will so understand, sir," replied my good master, "not wishing to gainsay you.
Suddenly she opened her drooping lids, and casting a look that was still misty at M. Coignard and me, she began in a feeble voice, but with the tone and accent, I thought, of a person of gentility: "I am not ungrateful, sirs, for the service you have done me from feelings of humanity; but I cannot truthfully tell you I am glad, for the life to which you have restored me is a curse, a hateful, cruel torment."
M. d'Asterac smiled and said: "You are too knowing a man, M. Coignard, not to be acquainted with the Flying Eagle, the Bird of Hermes, the Fowl of Hermogenes, the Head of a Raven, the Green Lion and the Phoenix." "I have been told," said my good master, "that by these names are distinguished the philosopher's stone in its different states.
At these words of our host, M. Jerome Coignard, raising his eyes over the thin black broth in his plate, looked uneasily at M. d'Asterac, who continued to say: "But that would still be quite insufficient progress. No honest man can eat animal flesh without disgust, and people cannot call themselves refined as long as they keep slaughter-houses and butchers' shops in their towns.
He was in the habit of saying that the Elves kill those who reveal their mysteries, and he attributes the death of M. l'Abbe Coignard, who was murdered on the Lyons road, to the vengeance of those spirits. But I know very well that this much lamented death had a more natural cause. I shall speak freely of the air and fire spirits.
He spoke the truth, his wife was very ugly, but high spirited and grateful." At this anecdote my mother broke out and said that such things ought not to be told by a father to his wife and son, if he wanted to have their respect. M. Jerome Coignard, seeing her become red with anger, changed the conversation with kindly meant ability.
His features took in death a majesty worthy of the genius that had animated him, and the loss of which will never be repaired. Funeral and Epitaph The Vicar of Vallars prepared a worthy funeral for M. Jerome Coignard. He chanted the death mass and gave the benediction.
At the moment you knocked at the door I was picking up the Spirit of the World, and the Flower of Heaven, which are the veritable Fountains of Youth. Have you some understanding of alchemy, Monsieur Coignard?" The abbe replied that he had got some notions of it from certain books, but that he considered the practice of it to be pernicious and contrary to religion.
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