«Against whom?»
Rieux turned to the window. A shadow-line on the horizon told of the presence of the sea. He was conscious only of his exhaustion, and at the same time was struggling against a sudden, irrational impulse to unburden himself a little more to his companion; an eccentric, perhaps, but who, he guessed, was one of his own kind.
«I haven’t a notion, Tarrou; I assure you I haven’t a notion. When I entered this profession, I did it ‘abstractedly,’ so to speak; because I had a desire for it, because it meant a career like another, one that young men often aspire to. Perhaps, too, because it was particularly difficult for a workman’s son, like myself. And then I had to see people die. Do you know that there are some who refuse to die? Have you ever heard a woman scream ‘Never!’ with her last gasp? Well, I have. And then I saw that I could never get hardened to it. I was young then, and I was outraged by the whole scheme of things, or so I thought.
Subsequently I grew more modest. Only, I’ve never managed to get used to seeing people die. That’s all I know. Yet after all?»
Rieux fell silent and sat down. He felt his mouth dry. «After all?» Tarrou prompted softly.
«After all,» the doctor repeated, then hesitated again, fixing his eyes on Tarrou, «it’s something that a man of your sort can understand most likely, but, since the order of the world is shaped by death, mightn’t it be better for God if we refuse to believe in Him and struggle with all our might against death, without raising our eyes toward the heaven where He sits in silence.»
Tarrou nodded.
«Yes. But your victories will never be lasting; that’s all.» Rieux’s face darkened.
«Yes, I know that. But it’s no reason for giving up the struggle.»
«No reason, I agree. Only, I now can picture what this plague must mean for you.» «Yes. A never ending defeat.»
Tarrou stared at the doctor for a moment, then turned and tramped heavily toward the door. Rieux followed him and was almost at his side when Tarrou, who was staring at the floor, suddenly said:
«Who taught you all this, doctor?» The reply came promptly: «Suffering.»
Rieux opened the door of his surgery and told Tarrou that he, too, was going out; he had a patient to visit in the suburbs. Tarrou suggested they should go together and he agreed. In the hall they encountered Mme Rieux, and the doctor introduced Tarrou to her.
«A friend of mine,» he said.
«Indeed,» said Mme Rieux, «I’m very pleased to make your acquaintance.» When she left them Tarrou turned to gaze after her. On the landing the doctor
pressed a switch to turn on the lights along the stairs. But the stairs remained in darkness. Possibly some new light-saving order had come into force. Really, however, there was no knowing; for some time past, in the streets no less than in private houses, everything had been going out of order. It might be only that the concierge, like nearly everyone in the town, was ceasing to bother about his duties, The doctor had no time to follow up his thoughts; Tarrou’s voice came from behind him.
«Just one word more, doctor, even if it sounds to you a bit nonsensical. You are perfectly right.»
The doctor merely gave a little shrug, unseen in the darkness.
«To tell the truth, all that’s outside my range. But you? what do you know about it?»
«Ah,» Tarrou replied quite coolly, «I’ve little left to learn.»
Rieux paused and, behind him, Tarrou’s foot slipped on a step. He steadied himself by gripping the doctor’s shoulder.
«Do you really imagine you know everything about life?»
The answer came through the darkness in the same cool, confident tone. «Yes.»
Once in the street, they realized it must be quite late, eleven perhaps. All was silence in the town, except for some vague rustlings. An ambulance bell clanged faintly in the distance. They stepped into the car and Rieux started the engine.
«You must come to the hospital tomorrow,» he said, «for an injection. But, before embarking on this adventure, you’d better know your chances of coming out of it alive; they’re one in three.»
«That sort of reckoning doesn’t hold water; you know it, doctor, as well as I. A hundred years ago plague wiped out the entire population of a town in Persia, with one exception. And the sole survivor was precisely the man whose job it was to wash the dead bodies, and who carried on throughout the epidemic.»
«He pulled off his one-in-three chance, that’s all.» Rieux had lowered his voice. «But you’re right; we know next to nothing on the subject.»
They were entering the suburbs. The headlights lit up empty streets. The car stopped. Standing in front of it, Rieux asked Tarrou if he’d like to come in.
Tarrou said: «Yes.» A glimmer of light from the sky lit up their faces. Suddenly Rieux gave a short laugh, and there was much friendliness in it. «Out with it, Tarrou! What on earth prompted you to take a hand in this?» «I don’t know. My code of morals, perhaps.»
«Your code of morals? What code?» «Comprehension.»
Tarrou turned toward the house and Rieux did not see his face again until they were in the old asthma patient’s room.
NEXT day Tarrou set to work and enrolled a first team of workers, soon to be followed by many others.
However, it is not the narrator’s intention to ascribe to these sanitary groups more importance than their due. Doubtless today many of our fellow citizens are apt to yield to the temptation of exaggerating the services they rendered. But the narrator is inclined to think that by attributing overimportance to praiseworthy actions one may, by implication, be paying indirect but potent homage to the worse side of human nature.
For this attitude implies that such actions shine out as rare exceptions, while callousness and apathy are the general rule. The narrator does not share that view. The evil that is in the world always comes of ignorance, and good intentions may do as much harm as malevolence, if they lack understanding. On the whole, men are more good than bad; that, however, isn’t the real point. But they are more or less ignorant, and it is this that we call vice or virtue; the most incorrigible vice being that of an ignorance that fancies it knows everything and therefore claims for itself the right to kill. The soul of the murderer is blind; and there can be no true goodness nor true love without the utmost clear-sightedness.
Hence the sanitary groups, whose creation was entirely Tarrou’s work, should be considered with objectivity as well as with approval. And this is why the narrator declines to vaunt in over-glowing terms a courage and a devotion to which he attributes only a relative and reasonable importance. But he will continue being the chronicler of the troubled, rebellious hearts of our townspeople under the impact of the plague.
Those who enrolled in the «sanitary squads,» as they were called, had, indeed, no such great merit in doing as they did, since they knew it was the only thing to do, and the unthinkable thing would then have been not to have brought themselves to do it. These groups enabled our townsfolk to come to grips with the disease and convinced them that, now that plague was among us, it was up to them to do whatever could be done to fight it. Since plague became in this way some men’s duty, it revealed itself as what it really was; that is, the concern of all.
So far, so good.
But we do not congratulate a schoolmaster on teaching that two and two make four, though we may, perhaps, congratulate him on having chosen his laudable vocation. Let us then say it was praiseworthy that Tarrou and so many others should have elected to prove that two and two make four rather than the contrary; but let us add that this good will of theirs was one that is shared by the schoolmaster and by all who have the same feelings as the schoolmaster, and, be it said to the credit of mankind, they are more numerous than one would think, such, anyhow, is the narrator’s conviction. Needless to say, he can see quite clearly a point that could be made against him, which is that these men were risking their lives. But again and again there comes a time in history when the man who dares to say that two and two make four is punished with death.
The schoolteacher is well aware of this. And the question is not one of knowing what punishment or reward attends the making of this calculation. The question is that of knowing whether two and two do make four. For those of our townsfolk who risked their lives in this predicament the issue was whether or not plague was in their midst and whether or not they must fight against it.
Many fledgling moralists in those days were going about our town proclaiming there was nothing to be done about it and we should bow to the inevitable. And Tarrou, Rieux, and their friends might give one answer or another, but its conclusion was always the same, their certitude that a fight must be put up, in this way or that, and there must be
