THE LITTLE GIRL.
But mother only gave me fourpence-halfpenny.
CRAINQUEBILLE. —
You mustn’t tell stories, my dear. Look and see if you haven’t got another halfpenny in your pocket.
THE LITTLE GIRL.
No, I only had fourpence-halfpenny.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Well, my dear, give me a kiss, that will make it square, and you can ask your mother if the cabbage she found you in had as good a heart as this one. Run along, my dear, and mind you don’t tumble. Good morning, Madame Laure, and how is the world treating you? —
MADAME LAURE (yellow chignon, very juvenile).
You’ve got nothing worth having, to-day.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
How can you say so?
MADAME LAURE (tasting the radishes).
Your radishes are all woolly.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
You must have woke up in a bad temper. This is your grumbling day.
MADAME LAURE.
They’ve got no taste in them. You might as well be eating water.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I tell you what it is: your taste is out of order — you don’t know what you are eating. It’s all through living in Paris. Your stomach gets burnt up. What would become of you all if old Crainquebille did not bring you fresh, cool vegetables. You would be on fire.
MADAME LAURE.
It isn’t what I eat does me harm. I can only eat salad and radishes nowadays. Nevertheless, it’s true you do get burnt up in Paris. (Dreamily.) Listen, Crainquebille, I should like to see the day when I could do without your cabbages and turnips, and grow them myself in a small garden eighty miles from Paris, at our home. It would be so peaceful in the country, rearing one’s own pigs and poultry.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
The day will come, Madame Laure, it will come: don’t get downhearted. You’re neat and thrifty, you’re a sensible woman; I do not busy myself about my customers’ affairs. There are no bad trades, and there are good folk in all classes. But you are a sensible person. You will be rich when you get on in years, and you’ll have a house of your own, a place of your own choosing, the place of your birth.... And you will be looked up to. Good-bye, Madame Laure.
MADAME LAURE.
Good-bye, daddy Crainquebille.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
What good folk there are in all walks of life! (Shouting.) Cabbages! Carrots! Turnips!
MADAME BAYARD (issuing from her shop).
I don’t think much of your leeks. How much a bundle?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Sevenpence-ha’penny, my good woman — best leeks going.
MADAME BAYARD.
Sevenpence-ha’penny for three bad leeks?
POLICE-CONSTABLE 64.
Move on, there!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Yes — yes. They are yours. Hurry up, you heard the policeman.
MADAME BAYARD.
Well, but I must choose my stuff. Sevenpence-ha’penny! No fear! Will you take sixpence?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
They cost me more than that, my little lady. And then I have to be at the market at five o’clock and even earlier if I want anything good.
CONSTABLE 64.
Move on, there!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Yes, yes, in a minute. Here, hurry up, Madame Bayard.
MADAME BAYARD.
Sixpence.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
And ever since seven o’clock this morning I’ve been blistering my hands on these shafts shouting “Cabbages! Turnips! Carrots!” and all so much waste of time and money. At past sixty, you will understand, I don’t do it for fun. Oh, no, it’s not good enough. Why, I shouldn’t make a penny on it.
MADAME BAYARD.
I will give you sevenpence. And I must go in and get it from the shop, for I haven’t got it on me. — [She goes in.
CONSTABLE 64.
Move on!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I am waiting for my money.
CONSTABLE 64.
I didn’t tell you to wait for your money. I told you to move on.... Well? What, don’t you know what “move on” means?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
For fifty years I have known it, and pushed my cart.... But they owe me money there at “The Guardian Angel,” Madame Bayard’s boot-shop. She’s gone to look for sevenpence for me, and I am waiting.
CONSTABLE 64.
Do you want me to summons you? Do you? Get along. Clear the road. D’you hear?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Good God! for fifty years I have earned my bread selling cabbages, leeks, and turnips, and because I do not want to lose sevenpence owing me...
[A butcher’s boy stops.
CONSTABLE 64
(pulling out his pencil and notebook).
Show me your licence.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
My licence?
CONSTABLE 64.
Yes, your hawker’s licence.
[Enter a pastrycook’s boy.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Look here, old pal, if you want to see my licence you must come home with me.
CONSTABLE 64.
You haven’t got a licence?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Yes, I’ve got one, but it’s at home. I’ve lost three by carrying ’em about with me. That cost me three shillings each time, so I gave it up.
CONSTABLE 64.
Your name?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Oh, rot! I suppose I’ve got to lose my seven-pence, that’s all.
[He takes hold of his cart and pushes on. CONSTABLE 64.
Stop, will you?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I am off...
CONSTABLE 64.
No, you’re not, it’s too late.
[He advances on CRAINQUEBILLE, and takes him by the arm; CRAINQUEBILLE turns round just in time to receive a whole load of rubbish on his barrow from the house-breakers, who curse and swear at him.
THE HOUSE-BREAKERS.
God love us! Look at that barrow!
CONSTABLE 64.
Look what you’ve done.
[A newsvendor on a bicycle runs full tilt into the off side of CRAINQUEBILLE’S barrow. He yells.
THE NEWSVENDOR
(with a hundred and fifty copies of “La Patrie” on his head).
Look where you’re going, you stupid old turnip-head!
CONSTABLE 64.
You see? You see?
[He goes to the right of CRAINQUEBILLE who, turning completely round, manages to jamb his left wheel into the left wheel of a cart bearing a copper bath, and drawn by a man who starts cursing and swearing.
Oh, you’ve done it this time!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Hallo! Now, how are you going to move on?
CONSTABLE 64.
This is all your fault.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
The whole fault is Madame Bayard’s. If she was here she’d say so. Funny she isn’t here. Where has she hidden herself? Looking for her coppers.
[Meanwhile, street-urchins, workmen, shop-people, idlers, all sorts of people appear; from the background, in — of the house-breaker’s cart, A with boxes filled with syphons comes on the scene; a dog jumps about on the top of the boxes, barking furiously. Slowly the van merges into the heap of conveyances, — contributes its share to the con glomeration of vehicles. Sixty people cover the footpath, the road, the steps, the carriages, thirty lean out of the windows. All these folk move about and gesticulate. The constable loses his head, claps CRAINQUEBILLE on the shoulder and says:
CONSTABLE 64.
Oh, so you said “Bloody copper!” did you? All right. You come with me.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I said that — I? I never!
CONSTABLE 64.
Yes, you said it.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
“Bloody copper”?
[Laughter.
CONSTABLE 64.
Ah, and what about t
hat then?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
What?
CONSTABLE 64.
You didn’t say “bloody copper”? — [Laughter.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Yes.
CONSTABLE 64.
Ah!
CRAINQUEBILLE.
But I did not say it to you. — [Laughter.
CONSTABLE 64.
You did not say it?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
But, Gor blimey!
A MAN.
What is the matter?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
The matter is, he says I turned and called him a (he turns again to the constable and calls out to demonstrate) “bloody copper!”
CONSTABLE 64
(who is taking notes in his book, gets this full in the face, and observes quite calmly):
Oh, now you may say it a hundred times; there’s no extra charge.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
But I am explaining to them.
A MAN (to another, smiling).
It doesn’t matter a blow to me, but he said it at least three times.
ANOTHER MAN.
No, it was the policeman who made him say it. THE MAN.
Oh, no, I am certain the policeman would not have done that.
ANOTHER BYSTANDER.
He saw everyone laughing, and he was annoyed, and he lost his head.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Nevertheless, it is all very simple....
CONSTABLE 64.
Here, that’ll do!
[He seizes CRAINQUEBILLE. A white-haired old man, DR. DAVID MATHIEU, comes up; he is in black, wears a tall hat, and is decorated with the rosette of the Legion of Honour.
DR. MATHIEU
(gently pulling the policeman by his sleeve). Allow me, allow me. You have made a mistake.
CONSTABLE 64.
Mistake, eh! What’s that?
DR. MATHIEU (firmly and gently).
You misunderstood. This man did not insult you.
CONSTABLE 64.
Misunderstood?
DR. MATHIEU.
I witnessed the whole scene, and I heard all that was said perfectly well.
CONSTABLE 64.
Well?
DR. MATHIEU.
And I assure you this man said nothing to cause...
CONSTABLE 64.
Mind your own business.
DR. MATHIEU.
I ask your pardon. It is my right, my duty, to warn you of an error that might have grievous consequences for this good man, and it is my right and duty to bear witness...
CONSTABLE 64.
You keep a civil tongue in your head.
A WORKMAN.
The gentleman is right — the costermonger did not say “bloody copper.”
THE CROWD.
Yes! Yes, he did say it. No! Yes! Oh! Come! I say, look here!
CONSTABLE 64 (to the workman).
You want to be run in, I suppose?
[The workman disappears.
DR. MATHIEU (to CONSTABLE 64).
You have not been insulted. The words you thought you heard were never uttered. When you are calmer you will acknowledge it yourself.
CONSTABLE 64.
To begin with, who are you? I do not know you.
DR. MATHIEU.
Here is my card. Dr. Mathieu, senior surgeon at the Ambroise Paré Hospital.
CONSTABLE 64.
I don’t care for that.
DR. MATHIEU.
But you must care. I shall be obliged if you will take my name and address, and make a note of what I say.
CONSTABLE 64.
Oh, so you insist! Well then, come with me. You can explain the matter to the inspector.
DR. MATHIEU.
That is just my intention.
A WORKING-WOMAN
(to her husband, pointing to the DOCTOR).
It’s queer — a well-dressed man, well educated — and he mixes himself up with this affair.... If it proves disagreeable for him it is his own fault. Never mix yourself up in other folk’s affairs. Come, let’s be off, my dear. I quite saw how it all happened: he was calling Madame Bayard, saying, “Where is she with her coppers,” and the policeman thought he heard “bloody coppers.” Come on, come on, or you will be called as a witness.
MADAME BAYARD (coming out of her shop).
Here’s your money.... Why, he’s been arrested. I can’t give money to a man who has been taken up. One can’t do that. I am not sure that it would be allowed.
[The crowd has played a great part in all this in a series of considerable movements of uncertain tendency. The rabble now press close on the heels of the little group formed by POLICE-
CONSTABLE 64, CRAINQUEBILLE, and the elderly gentleman. There is a frightful uproar; oaths, laughter, of street-boys, bicycle-horns, barking dogs, and the yells of a child that is being spanked by its mother, — countless other noises are heard, — singly, now; together.
ACT II.
SCENE I.
A room in the Police Court.
THE MAGISTRATE, BOURRICHE (reading his judgment).
The Court, after due deliberation, according to law, holds that, whereas...
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE.
... it sufficiently appears from the documents put in evidence and from the depositions heard at the last hearing, that on October 3 Fromage (Alexandre) was found guilty of the offence of mendicity, an offence provided for and punished by Article 274 of the Penal Code. The said Article condemns Fromage (Alexandre) to six days’ imprisonment. (FROMAGE, who had been seated by CRAINQUEBILLE’S side, is led away by two warders. An interval.... Some noise.... The magistrate turns over his papers.) Your name is Crainquebille. Stand up. Your name is Crainquebille (Jérôme), born at Poissy (Seine) on July 14, 1843. You have never been previously convicted.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Ask me what you like. I owe nothing to anyone. That I can say. A halfpenny is a halfpenny to me. I am never out in my dealings.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Keep silence. At midday, on July 25 last, in the Rue de Beaujolais, you insulted and abused a constable in the exercise of his duty. You applied to him the words “b — copper” (he only pronounces the first letter). You acknowledge the facts?
CRAINQUEBILLE (turning towards his lawyer).
What does he say? Is he speaking to me?
THE MAGISTRATE.
You used threats; you called out “b — copper” (he only promounces the first letter).
CRAINQUEBILLE.
“Bloody copper,” you mean.
THE MAGISTRATE.
You do not deny it?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
On all that I hold most sacred — on my daughter’s head if I had one — I did not insult the policeman. To that I take my Bible oath.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Let us have your version of the affair. Reconstitute the scene.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Your worship, I am an honest man; I owe nobody anything. I know the value of a halfpenny. I deal squarely with all, I can say that. For forty years I’ve been known in the market in Montmartre and everywhere. I used to earn my living when I was only fourteen...
THE MAGISTRATE.
I did not ask for your biography. [Stir in Court.
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE.
I ask you to give your version of what occurred during the scene preceding your arrest.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
All I can tell you is that for forty years, ever since I have pushed my barrow, I have known what the police are. As soon as I see one coming, off I slope. And so I have never had any difficulty with them. But as to insulting them, by word, or in any other way, never! that has never been my way. Why should I be supposed to change at my age?
THE MAGISTRATE.
You resisted the constable’s orders, when he told you to move on.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
Oh,
come! Move on, indeed! If you could have seen. Why, the carts were all jammed into one another so, it was not even possible to move a wheel.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Well, do you acknowledge having said “b — copper”?
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I said “bloody copper” because the officer said “bloody copper.” So I said “bloody copper.” You see?
THE MAGISTRATE.
Do you ask me to believe that the constable used this expression first?
CRAINQUEBILLE
(in despair of making himself understood).
I don’t ask you to believe anything. I...
THE MAGISTRATE.
You do not persist. Quite right. You may sit down. — [An interval. Stir in Court.
THE USHER.
Silence!
THE MAGISTRATE.
We will hear the evidence. Usher, call the first witness.
THE USHER
(leaving the Court, makes his way through the crowd, calling out).
Police-constable Bastien Matra.
[Enter MATRA, wearing his belt.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Your name, age, and occupation.
MATRA.
Matra (Bastien), born August 15, 1870, in Bastia (Corsica). Police-constable No. 64.
THE MAGISTRATE.
You swear to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Say, “I swear.”
MATRA.
I swear.
THE MAGISTRATE.
Give your evidence.
MATRA (unfastening his belt).
While on duty on October 20 at midday I noticed a person in the Rue Beaujolais who seemed to be a street-hawker, and who had drawn up his barrow for an undue length of time opposite No. 28, causing a block in the traffic. I told him three times to move on, which he refused to do. And on my warning him that I should report him, he answered me by exclaiming “bloody copper,” which seemed to me to be insulting language.
THE MAGISTRATE
(in a fatherly tone to CRAINQUEBILLE).
You hear what the constable says.
CRAINQUEBILLE.
I said “bloody copper” because he said “bloody copper.” So then I said “bloody copper.” It is quite easy to see that.
THE MAGISTRATE
(who has not been listening, and who is preparing to pass judgment).
There are no other witnesses?
THE USHER.
Yes, your worship, there are two more.
THE MAGISTRATE.
What? Two more?
LEMERLE.
We have subpoenaed two witnesses for the defence. THE MAGISTRATE.
Complete Works of Anatole France Page 393