After a few tentative ventures, I found my bent. I had always been interested in medicine. A handbook on hygiene, which De Valpic lent me, completed my sketchy equipment. The next thing to be done was to put it into practice. The soldiers suffered chiefly, as usual, from sore feet—a crop of blisters and sores. I preached cleanliness first, and methodical greasing. But the sore places, some of which were septic, must be cured. Most of the men seemed entirely ignorant of how to treat a blister. Guillaumin and I arranged a demonstration one evening with great success. Once having won their confidence, we treated them for various little ills—diluted tincture of iodine did wonders.
One great danger was the water, which caused a great deal of diarrhœa. It was not always possible to boil the contents of our water-bottles. I had some permanganate of potash; a few crystals placed in the water-buckets assured a relative sterilisation. Our platoon made it a point of honour to have as few men as possible at sick parade. We only had two in a week. Trichet, who sprained his ankle, wept with rage at leaving us.
My little cures were appreciated. Men came to ask my advice now, even from No. 1 platoon. I had some idea of massage and set up a surgery. The men appealed to me in doubtful cases. One evening, I remember, the party sent on ahead to choose the camp had picked some mushrooms on the way. Breton insisted on their waiting for me. I really was not very well up in the matter. However, I did not quite like the look of the valvular formation at the base, and ordered them to throw them away. They obeyed without protesting. I learnt shortly afterwards from De Valpic, that it had saved a good many lives.
How much joy I got out of my disinterested efforts! Not only that of useful labour accomplished. The incessant contact, our conversations, the services rendered mutually, made me fonder of each of my companions every day. I was getting into touch with the people again. I no longer considered, as I used to, that it would satisfy me to live in the bosom of a restricted caste of beings brought up in the same way as I had been. I suddenly once more became aware of the ascendency of certain doctrines.
Social morality had always seemed to be a poor morality for those on the right side of the barrier, as I was. Now I realised my mistake. There should be neither oppressors nor oppressed, neither dominators nor dominated,—alliance and not confusion of the different social classes. "Each for all and all for each," as the old saying is. Were we not all co-operating with the same heart in the same work? If between these soldiers and me there was a dissimilarity in education and disposition, if I, at their head, was exempt from the most thankless fatigues, did that prevent reciprocal collaboration and esteem, or stop any one being satisfied with their fate? No, no. Prunelle agreed; the chief thing was that each class should know the other, then it would not be long before they appreciated each other, and recognised each other as brothers, and not such very different brothers either!
This idea, in particular, clung to me. Disparities due to education and upbringing, to the style of life, are, to a certain extent, exterior. How little they count for in comparison with the tongue, the customs, and disposition which are shared in common by the sons of one nation and which draw them together. Between the people and the aristocracy the difference is simply that which exists between youth and ripe middle age. The people are like a young and lusty lad, who only asks to be allowed to grow! What were the common sense of an Icard, the animation of a Judsi, the self-denial of a Bouillon, if not the deep-rooted qualities of our soil and race? There is enjoyment in breathing them, when one also exhales them!
A TEMPTATION