THE READING FINGERS

Jean Roblin

Chapter IX: TOWARD THE LIGHT

NO ONE could ever give a better and more detailed account than Coltat of the weeks preceding the death of Louis Braille. He was a loyal friend, bound closely to the older man by ties of the same misfortune and an affectionate admiration, and it was his privilege to be present until his last breath. We will withdraw, therefore, before his testimony, and in order not to misinterpret him, we put down his own words, simple but moving, with glimpses of grandeur.

"On the night of December 4, 1851, after a cold he had perhaps neglected a little, he suffered a violent hemorrhage; it was the final blow which was to keep him from ever leaving his bed again.

"The same thing recurred again and again during the following days with an intensity appalling to those surrounding the sick man. L. Braille remained very calm; nevertheless, he himself felt that his life was in danger. As a precaution, he asked for spiritual aid, and then received the sacraments with a devotion as respectful as it was edifying. The day after this moving and solemn ceremony he addressed the following words to the friend who visited him most often, and who kept them in his heart like a precious treasure, 'Yesterday was one of the greatest and most beautiful of my life. When you have experienced that, you understand all the power and majesty of religion. But, oh, unfathomable mystery of the human heart, I am convinced that my mission on earth is finished; yesterday I tasted the greatest joys. God was pleased to hold before my eyes the dazzling splendors of eternal hope. After that, doesn't it seem that nothing more could keep me bound to the earth? Well, I asked God to take me from the world, it is true. . . . But I felt that I wasn't asking very hard.'

"Ten days later Christmas came; the pious patient wanted to celebrate it on his bed of pain, and received again the God who brings patience and resignation. To keep his soul pleasantly occupied, he begged his friend to suggest some good thoughts, drawn especially from the circumstances of the time and condition of illness in which he found himself. They had to be short and meaningful; for he liked wordiness in the language of devotion no better than in ordinary language."

Constant concern, however, for his spiritual interests did not make him neglect his temporal affairs. Before leaving on the final journey, he wanted to honor his friends with one last gesture of gratitude.

On December 26 he had a notary, M. Thiac, summoned, and in the presence of Joseph Guadet, Edouard Pelicier, accountant of the Institution, and Hector Chevalier and Louis Laas d'Aguens, supervisors, he dictated his will. His mother received a life annuity; he divided his other securities between his niece and god-daughter, Louise Céline Marniesse, and his nephew, Louis Théodore Carron. He left a piece of land to Louis Simon, and to Coltat, "My friend and colleague at the Institution where he lives, my savings-bank book, my piano, movable furniture, books, linen, scientific instruments, and in general, all I own at the Institution." Through this will we see more clearly still the true character of Louis Braille, who was the soul of kindness. Gratitude was not just a word with him; his little guide, the infirmary boy, the nightwatchman, and the servant who took care of his room, to whom he left part of his estate, were all witnesses of his generosity and greatness of soul. He gave sixty francs to the Curé of Coupvray for Masses, and, in his own words, for "a remembrance to the church of my village." He likewise did not forget the Society of St. Vincent de Paul of St. Nicholas des Chardonnerets, the parish where he had made his first communion and been confirmed. In accordance with his instructions, Coltat distributed his clothes, and his small personal belongings as mementos to his pupils. He earnestly requested that the money he had loaned not be returned.

Yvonne Pitrois tells in Three Lights in the Darkness that after his death a small box was found on which was written: "To be burned without opening." Out of curiosity the box was opened; it contained many acknowledgments of debt. Despite this first indiscretion, his wish was respected and all the papers were burned.

All his friends came to see him. They could not believe that he was going to leave them forever. The Lazarists, for whom he had played the organ for many years, remained close to his bedside, helping him prepare himself to meet death. His brother came alone from Coupvray, since their aged mother could not undertake the journey. He brought messages of affection and loving solicitude from the family. They all felt the moment of the last good-by drawing nearer each day, yet they tried to make him forget it by talking hopefully of a cure. But he answered, "You know that I don't deal in that coin, there's no need to hide the truth." Little by little life was withdrawing from his body racked by tuberculosis. Dr. Allibert, as well as the Abbé Durand, the chaplain of the Institution, knew that now nothing could save him.

We again quote Coltat, "Meanwhile, through an illusion fairly common in his type of illness, he appeared a few days before his death to have recovered confidence in his return to health. It is as though Providence, taking pity on our human frailty, wished in these crucial periods to veil the face of death in order to make it seem less dreadful.

"January 6, 1852 was to be his last day. In the morning he asked to have repeated to him the symbolic meanings of gold, incense and myrrh, for it was Epiphany. . . . Toward the middle of the day, feeling the end near, he wished to fortify himself for the dread journey, and once more received communion with loving devotion. Before and after the ceremony his friends and his brother gathered around him and embraced him for the last time. To each he gave most touching tokens of his affection, and when he could no longer talk, he moved his lips, a gesture which spoke more directly to the heart than any word. All those present were moved to tears. The final agony began about four o'clock in the afternoon, and at seven-thirty Louis Braille delivered up his pure soul to the hands of God."

On the very same evening, Louis Simon returned to Coupvray to announce the sad outcome to his family. We can understand the sorrow of Monique Braille when she learned the news, so painful to the heart of a mother already broken by the loss of a husband and a daughter, and now separated from a son whom she loved tenderly. Perhaps it was to see him once again that she asked Louis Simon to bring him back to Coupvray. Perhaps it was also to reunite Simon, Marie and Louis in the same plot of earth and the same affection.

On January 7th Louis Simon went to the Mayor's office and obtained from Monsieur Lahogue, the first assistant, authorization to have Louis Braille buried in his native village. He returned to Paris immediately, found a conveyor, M. Bulton, took the necessary steps at Police Headquarters, and fixed the transfer for Friday, January 9.

On the 8th funeral services were held at the Institution. Pupils and teachers, and all the others who had known and loved Louis Braille were present. His friends had had his portrait done and a plaster cast of his face made, which was used by the sculptor, Jouffroy, to cut a marble bust of him. The latter was unveiled at the Institution on May 25, 1853.

Then on the 9th M. Bulton and Louis Simon started for Coupvray. The route which the blind boy had formerly taken to the Institution he now took for the last time thirty-two years later, in a black van behind a gently trotting horse which was carrying him toward the place of his childhood. Neuilly, Nogent, Chelles, Lagny. After four hours of traveling, the imposing mass of the farm-house belonging to the chateau stood out against the hillside with bare trees sharply outlined against the wintry sky beyond. The van turned to the left, and descended rapidly toward the lower village where, in the old family house, Louis Braille was to rest a few hours longer.

M. Lahogue, who drew up the report of the transfer for Police Headquarters, wrote the next day, "Yesterday, the 9th of the present month, the body of Louis Braille arrived in Coupvray. I went to the place where he had been taken, and in the presence of his entire family I had the coffin opened to verify the identity of the body. The deceased was recognized to be really the aforesaid Louis Braille. Today, January 10th, at noon, the burial took place."

In the crowded little parish church there re-echoed the plaintive notes of prayers for the dead. Then four men carried the coffin to the cemetery. When the Abbé Baudin had said the final prayer, the body of Louis Braille was lowered into the earth.