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Updated: June 27, 2025
With much mortification I thought that all that burning dust in the air was the end of so many fine books and precious manuscripts, which were the joy of my dear master, the remains, perhaps, of Zosimus the Panopolitan, on which we had worked together during the noblest hours of my life. I had seen the Abbe Jerome Coignard die.
And in a similar way it occurred that I became a Latinist because Friar Ange was taken by the watch and put into ecclesiastical penance for having knocked down a cutler under the arbour of the Little Bacchus. M. Jerome Coignard kept his promise. He gave me lessons and, finding me tractable and intelligent, he took pleasure in instructing me in the ancient languages.
But M. Coignard reminded him that, being suckled by the Muses, I would never become a cook, and that the time was not far off when I should wear a clerical neckband. My father sighed, thinking that never would I be the banner-bearer of the Guild of Parisian Cooks, and my mother became quite glittering with pleasure and pride at the idea of her son belonging to the Church.
That evening my tutor and I happened to be in the Rue du Bac, and as it was rather warm M. Jerome Coignard said to me: "Jacques Tournebroche, my son, would it be agreeable to you to turn to the left, into the Rue de Grenelle, in quest of a tavern that's to say, to some place where we could get a pot of wine for two sous?
I really don't know why I do not spit you on my sword." "Sir," said Abbe Coignard, "would it not be better to get that poor fellow out of the midst of these horses wherein he is entangled?" We all went to work with a will, and when the horses were freed and raised we were able to discover the extent of the damage done.
One has to run some risk in life and that with Elves is an extremely small one. I have zealously gathered the words of my good teacher M. l'Abbe Jerome Coignard, who perished as I have said. He was a man full of knowledge and godliness.
My dear tutor smiled already, less by virtue of the stone than by the influence of a philosophy which raised this admirable man above all human passions, for I feel it my duty to say, at the very moment my narrative becomes clouded and sad, that M. Jerome Coignard has given me examples of wisdom under circumstances in which it is but rarely met with.
"You are very polite," said M. Jerome Coignard. Letting his transported looks wander over the learned walls he continued: "Between these third and fourth windows are shelves bearing an illustrious burden. There is the meeting place of Oriental MSS., who seem to converse together. I see ten or twelve venerable ones under shreds of purple and gold figured silks, their vestments.
He embraced me tenderly and confided to me that the house had lost half its pleasantness in consequence of my departure and that of M. Jerome Coignard, who was honest and jovial.
He recalled the incidents in the life of the escaped galley-slave Coignard, who, under the name of Pontis de St. Helene, absolutely assumed the rank of a general officer, and took command of a domain. Coignard was recognized and betrayed by an old fellow-prisoner, and this was exactly the risk that Paul knew he must run, for any of his old companions might recognize and denounce him.
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