If you would like to see an uncrowned King, a landless but happy man, look at Breugnon as he sits throned tonight at the merry feast of the Epiphany. There was a great procession in the afternoon which went by our windows; the three Magi with their attendants, a chorus of shepherds and shepherdesses, and all the dogs in the town; now in the evening we are all gathered round the table, thirty of us, including me, children, and grandchildren; and they all drank my health together, crying, “Here’s to the King!” for they have crowned me with a splendid paper crown, and Martine is my queen; (you see, like those old fellows in Plutarch, I have married my daughter) so whenever I carry my glass to my lips, every one applauds; and then I laugh and the wine goes down the wrong way. My queen not only shares my drink herself, but there is another person who shares too in his own way, and that is my youngest grandson, who lies in his mother’s arms, red and squalling. Every one is happy down to the dog and cat picking up bones under the table.
I hate to keep my thoughts to myself, so I say aloud:
“The only fault I have to find with this good life of ours, my friends, is that it is too short. I don’t feel as if I had had my money’s worth, and though I may be told that I ought to be satisfied with what has fallen to my lot, I can only say that I should like to have more, a second slice of cake, if I could get it without making too much fuss. And then it makes me unhappy to think of all the good fellows who are gone. Of what use is it to be here alone? Ah, how Time flows on, and with it good men like King Henry and our Duke Louis!”
The thought of them was enough to set me off, on former times and recollections, and I told old stories till, I am sorry to say, I grew tired and began to repeat myself; but my children did not mind, and when I became confused and forgot anything, they would fill up the gap; and then I would pull myself together and find them all laughing.
“Well, Father, those were great days when you were young! What figures the women must have had, and what splendid fellows the men were! As for King Henry and his friend the Duke, they have not their equal nowadays!”
“All right,” I reply, “laugh and grow fat. I know there is still good fish in the sea, and good men to catch it, and for one that goes, three will come after. There will never be a lack of good stout sons of Gaul, but my trouble is that they will not be the same ones that I knew and loved, like King Henry who is gone; but never mind, Colas, there is nothing to cry about. I should think not indeed! for you surely don’t want to keep on chewing the same cud for ever. The wine is just as good even if it is not out of the old casks, and here’s to the King and his people!
“Frankly, dear children, I love myself better than any King, so liberty for us, my countrymen! and to the devil with our rulers! As long as we are here, the land I love, and I, all is well; so what need have we of a King on earth or in Heaven? Or of a throne for him to sit on? Let each man have his share of the sun and shade, his bit of land, and his arms to work with, no one could ask more; and if the King in person came to my house I would say, ‘Come in and sit down, for we are all equal together in France, each master in his own kingdom, and here’s to your good health, my guest and cousin.’”
“How is this?” said Brother John, “art thou also a poet?—By the help of God, I can string rhymes together as well as another; I am sure of it; have but patience with me if my verses should prove of the wrong color——”
—Pantagruel, v. 46.