“God is infinite being, infinite intelligence, infinite love. The creature is forever finite: but man, endowed with a reasoning intellect, and the angel, with an intuitive grasp of truth, are ever, by a continual process of purification, widening the bounds of their imperfect nature, in order to reach, by increase of light, the perfection of greater love.” Dom Guéranger, The Liturgical Year, Time After Pentecost Book V
The more I read children’s literature as an adult, the more I am convinced that its genre is a misnomer. Consider Natalie Savage Carlson’s The Family Under the Bridge. Here is a sweet and simple book. Yet it ably distills such sweeping truths as Dom Guéranger puts forth in the above quote. Should such a book be cordoned off for only the young? No, I think not. Names are not barriers, and it is delightful to read this tale of the transformation of an old Parisian hobo.
The hobo Armand, a recently widowed and impoverished mother named Madame Calcet, her children Suzy, Paul, and Evelyne, and a dog named Jojo are the principle characters in The Family Under the Bridge. The dog is more important than one might think. He sets a boundary. For the movement which Dom Guéranger speaks of, that movement of man toward the perfection of greater love, is a movement away from the base animal state into which man is all too likely to comfortably fall. And our main character Armand is comfortable in his hobo life so much so that he deliberately choses it. His daily motivations are those of the animal realm. He seeks to obtain food by whatever means, honest or dishonest, and to then sleep the night away on the cold concrete under a bridge.
Yet one winter’s night, Armand returns to his coveted spot under a bridge only to find three children and a dog huddled under a canvas. Madame Calcet, forced out of
her home by the poverty which accompanied her husband’s death, has hidden her children under the bridge while she works. It is her only hope to protect them from authorities who would take her children and separate them all. But what is a hobo who lives only for himself with scarcely fewer concerns than a street dog to do when confronted with three homeless children? “And he wanted nothing to do with children. They meant homes and responsibility and regular work.”
So Armand’s struggle begins. And it is a struggle, for his heart betrays him with a desire to love these children. How will he cling to his independent way of life now that his heart is wounded by three homeless children? At first he tries to simply subsume them into his own life. And often in their early acquaintance it is hard to distinguish between dog, child, or hobo. They all seem to be living on the same level, seeking food and a place to sleep. But as with all private goods, they cannot be shared by all. One crust of bread will scarcely satisfy one hobo, let alone one hobo, three children, and a dog. Upon her return, Madame Calcet is aghast to find her children in the company of a hobo. She too sets boundaries and conditions. Her family must be kept together and must be preserved from homelessness. Already homeless, her insistence is desperate and militant. It is an insistence which Armand responds to begrudgingly.
But the children, sources of light that they are, have an instinct for family and are ready to attach themselves to Armand. They are ready to adopt him as their grandfather. They want to know his name—his last name. He cannot remember it. Like Jojo the dog, he does not seem to have a last name. And what is a family name? It is a hinge attaching you to others. It is a call to responsibility. It is a call to self-sacrifice. And those duties sometimes obscure the love, joy, and security a family name also extends. Yes, to forget one’s family name is to forget and release one from responsibilities. Armand is determined to resist the pull of the children into family life and the traps that lead to homes and jobs.
Yet, despite the mother’s objections to Armand and Armand’s own objections to opening his life, the children have become a part of his days. So Armand thinks of a way the children can serve his needs. He is not cruel in this, but utilitarian. “Perhaps starlings weren’t so bad. They had their uses.” Armand sets the children to singing in the street for the Christmas shoppers, and their concert yields plenty of coins. Armand is generous in spending the coins to feed the children. In working together, increasing their food, and sharing their food, Armand and the children have risen a little. Still, Madame Calcet is enraged that Armand used her children to beg. Armand draws subtle lines to opera singers begging for their wage from stage and the children doing the same in the street. But Madame Calcet will have none of it, for begging on the street will not raise them beyond the next meal or move them from under the bridge.
Armand and Madame Calcet feud over this, and Armand leaves to continue his solitary life free of the starlings, bumping his hobo buggy loudly so as to drown out the cries of the children. Yet that night, he wrestles again with his love for himself and the call to love more than himself.
“And he didn’t sleep well that night. He kept wondering about the children. Were they warm enough? Wouldn’t they be lonely? He tried to pretend to himself that he was fretting about something else. ‘It was my bridge,’ he said aloud. ‘They had no right to put me off my own property.’”
Armand returns to the children only to find that they have been visited by women who are set on taking them away and having their mother jailed. He hurries the children away to a gypsy community.
Enfolded in the life and livelihood of the gypsies, the children have food, a place to sleep, and companionship. Armand finds he can slip into this world without any difficulty for it places no demands on him. It seems he has found a satisfactory solution. But Madame Calcet again is enraged. Her children are now living among thieves. Armand defends the gypsies and their skill as metal workers and the good that work brings to the Paris community. And he chastens Madame Calcet for her pride noting that honesty is nothing without kindness and generosity. A speech with some truth, but Armand himself has been dishonest and has lied to the children that a house was being built for them. And Armand feels his hypocrisy as he stands before Madame Calcet and her vulnerable children. He owns up that he lied about the home. He can only help them by the begging, and he leads them to the free Christmas dinner near Notre Dame. Madame Calcet insists they attend Mass. Her insistence is a blessing which Armand accepts with hesitancy and reluctance. Yet at Mass, in his shame and agony at failing the children, Armand does again what he knows how to do. He begs. This time his appeal is to God. “All I know is how to beg. So I’m begging you to find a roof for this homeless family.” The way to rise higher is to go lower in the right sense. It is not to live in the mere functionality of an animal or in the selfishness of a hoarder of private goods — no matter how meager they may be, but it is to open oneself fully to others while always knowing that man cannot do this on his own. This is the face of humility before grace.
Prayers are seldom answered immediately nor in obvious ways. Armand and the little family return from Mass to find the gypsies must flee because of their thievery. The community Armand found for the children has vanished. Armand again has nothing more to offer but begging and a spot under the bridge. Paul slips off to find work, only to be laughed at and ridiculed by the men from whom he seeks employment. He is too young and too small to work. Suzy scolds him for trying and says work is for big men like Armand. And Armand is shamed. But he clears his throat and says what he never had the will to say before, “I’m going to get a steady job.”
Goodness is of God and goodness cannot be achieved by sloth, thieving, or lying. And it cannot be achieved apart from God. Armand leaves behind the sloth, the thieving, and the lying. He sacrifices his own contentedness with meeting his own minimalist needs. For the children he will work. And the story unfolds in a charming manner so that Armand finds a job particularly suited to him — a job as a caretaker who simply hands out keys and puts out the trash from the comfort of a provided home. Armand, Madame Calcet, the three children, and JoJo will live a shared life where they will all partake of the common good of home and family life. Together they will live and thrive with dignity. Madame Calcet knew that this is what family and home means. Suzy knew that this is what family and home means. By the end of the story, Armand also knows that this is what family and home means, and it is then he remembers his family name.
The Family Under the Bridge by Natalie Savage Carlson, was written in 1958 when children’s books entwined with Catholic sensibilities as well as overt nods to the faith were still nominated for Newberry Honor awards. It is listed as a children’s book, but why put limits on who might enjoy a well told, truthful story? Less charming, but perhaps more useful might be the term General Audience or better yet Family Read Aloud or Ageless Children’s Literature. So regardless of your age, by all means read The Family Under the Bridge and savor its truth and the increase of light into which it draws you.
Joann Luke is the author and illustrator of the children’s novel, Pudge (Angelico Press) See more of her work at joannluke.com
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