by Victor Hugo
We have already seen some portion of his history. After Waterloo,Pontmercy, drawn as we remember out of the sunken road of Ohain,succeeded in rejoining the army, and dragged himself from ambulanceto ambulance as far as the cantonments of the Loire. The Restorationput him on half-pay, and then sent him to Vernon, under honorablesurveillance. King Louis XVIII., regarding all that was done in theHundred Days as if it had not happened, recognized neither his qualityas officer of the Legion of Honor, nor his commission as Colonel, norhis title as Baron. He for his part neglected no opportunity to signhimself, "Colonel Baron de Pontmercy." He had only one old blue coat,and never went out without attaching to it the rosette of the Legionof Honor. The King's attorney advised him that he would be tried forillegally wearing this decoration; and when this hint was given him byan officious intermediator, Pontmercy replied, with a bitter smile,"I do not know whether it is I that no longer understand French, orwhether you are not speaking it, but the fact remains the same: I donot understand you." Then he went out for eight days in succession withhis rosette, and the authorities did not venture to interfere withhim. Twice or thrice the Minister of War or the General commandingthe department wrote to him with the following superscription: "M. leCommandant Pontmercy," and he sent back the letters unopened. At thesame moment Napoleon at St. Helena was treating in the same fashionthe missives of Sir Hudson Lowe, addressed to "General Bonaparte."If we may be forgiven the remark, Pontmercy finished by having thesame saliva in his mouth as the Emperor. There were also at Rome,Carthaginian prisoners who refused to salute Flaminius, and had alittle of Hannibal's soul in them.
One morning he met the King's attorney in a street of Vernon, went upto him, and said, "Monsieur le Procureur du Roi, am I allowed to wearmy scar?"
He had nothing but his scanty half-pay as Major, and he had taken thesmallest house in Vernon, where he lived alone, in what way we havejust seen. Under the Empire and between two wars he found time tomarry Mlle. Gillenormand. The old bourgeois, who was indignant in hisheart, concluded with a sigh and saying, "The greatest families areforced into it." In 1815, Madame Pontmercy, a most admirable woman inevery respect, and worthy of her husband, died, leaving a child. Thischild would have been the Colonel's delight in his solitude; but thegrandfather imperiously claimed him, declaring that if he were notgiven up to him he would disinherit him. The father yielded for thesake of the little one, and, unable to love his son, he took to lovingflowers.
He had, however, given up everything, and did not join the oppositionor conspire. He shared his thoughts between the innocent things he didand the great things he had done, and he spent his time in hoping fora carnation or calling to mind Austerlitz. M. Gillenormand kept up norelations with his son-in-law; the Colonel was to him a "bandit," andhe was for the Colonel an "ass." M. Gillenormand never spoke about theColonel, except at times to make mocking allusions to "his barony." Itwas expressly stipulated that Pontmercy should never attempt to see hisson or speak to him, under penalty of having him thrown on his handsdisinherited. To the Gillenormands, Pontmercy was a plague patient, andthey intended to bring up the child after their fashion. The Colonelperhaps did wrong in accepting these terms, but he endured them, in thebelief that he was acting rightly, and only sacrificing himself.
The inheritance of the grandfather was a small matter, but that ofMlle. Gillenormand the elder was considerable, for this aunt was veryrich on her mother's side, and her sister's son was her natural heir.The boy, who was called Marius, knew that he had a father, but nothingmore, and no one opened his lips to him on the subject. Still, in thesociety to which his grandfather took him, the whisperings and winkseventually produced light in the boy's mind; he understood something atlast, and, as he naturally accepted, by a species of infiltration andslow penetration, the ideas and opinions which were, so to speak, hisbreathing medium, he gradually came to think of his father only withshame.
While he was thus growing up in this way, the Colonel every two orthree months came furtively to Paris, like a convict who is breakinghis ban, and posted himself at St. Sulpice, at the hour when AuntGillenormand took Marius to Mass. Trembling lest the aunt should turnround, concealed behind a pillar, motionless, and scarce daring tobreathe, he looked at this boy; the scarred warrior was frightened atthis old maid.
Prom this very circumstance emanated his friendship with the AbbéMabœuf, Curé of Vernon. This worthy priest had a brother, churchwardenof St. Sulpice, who had several times noticed this man contemplatinghis child, and the scar on his cheek, and the heavy tear in his eye.This man, who looked so thoroughly a man, and who wept like a child,struck the churchwarden, and this face adhered to his memory. One daywhen he went to Vernon to see his brother he met on the bridge ColonelPontmercy, and recognized his man of St. Sulpice. The churchwardentold the affair to the Curé, and both made some excuse to pay a visitto the Colonel. This visit led to others; and the Colonel, though atfirst very close, eventually opened his heart, and the Curé and thechurchwarden learned the whole story, and how Pontmercy sacrificed hisown happiness to the future of his child. The result was that the Curéfelt a veneration and tenderness for him, and the Colonel, on his side,took the Curé into his affection. By the way, when both are equallysincere and good, no men amalgamate more easily than an old priest andan old soldier, for they are the same men at the bottom. One devoteshimself to his country down here, the other to his country up there;that is the sole difference.
Twice a year, on January 1st, and Saint George's day, Marius wrote hisfather letters dictated by his aunt, and which looked as if copied froma handbook, for that was all M. Gillenormand tolerated; and the fathersent very affectionate replies, which the grandfather thrust into hispocket without reading.
CHAPTER III.
REQUIESCANT!
The salon of Madame de T---- was all that Marius Pontmercy knew of theworld, and it was the sole opening by which he could look out intolife. This opening was gloomy, and more cold than heat, more nightthan day, reached him through this trap. This boy, who was all joy andlight on entering the strange world, became thus, in a short time, sad,and what is more contrary still to his age, serious. Surrounded by allthese imposing and singular persons, he looked about him with seriousastonishment, and all contributed to augment his stupor. There were inMadame de T----'s drawing-room old, noble, and very venerable ladies,who called themselves Mathau, Noé, Levis (pronounced Levi), and Cambis,(pronounced Cambyse). These ancient faces and these Biblical names weremingled in the boy's mind with his Old Testament, which he learned byheart, and when they were all present, seated in a circle round anexpiring fire, scarce illumined by a green-shaded lamp, with theirsevere faces, their gray or white hair, their long dresses of anotherage, in which only mournful colors could be seen, and uttering atlengthened intervals words at once majestic and stern, little Mariusregarded them with wandering eyes and fancied that he saw not women,but patriarchs, and Magi,--not real beings, but ghosts.
With these ghosts were mingled several priests, habitués of this oldsalon, and a few gentlemen: the Marquis de Sass----, secretary toMadame de Berry; the Vicomte de Val----, who published odes under thepseudonym of Charles Antoine; the Prince de Beauff----, who, thoughstill young, had a gray head and a pretty, clever wife, whose dressof scarlet velvet, with gold embroidery, cut very low in the neck,startled this gloom; the Marquis de C----, d'E----, the Frenchman, whowas most acquainted with "graduated politeness;" the Comte d'Am----,a gentleman with a benevolent chin; and the Chevalier de Port de Guy,the pillar of the library of the Louvre, called the King's Cabinet. M.de Port de Guy, bald and rather aging than old, used to tell how in1793, when he was sixteen years of age, he was placed in the hulks asrefractory, and chained to an octogenarian, the Bishop of Mirepoix,also a refractory, but as priest, while he was so as soldier. Itwas at Toulon, and their duty was to go at night to collect on thescaffold the heads and bodies of persons guillotined during the day.They carried these dripping trunks on their backs, and their redjackets had behind the nape of the ne
ck a crust of blood, which wasdry in the morning and moist at night. These tragical narrativesabounded in the salon of Madame de T----, and through cursing Maratthey came to applaud Trestaillon. A few deputies of the "introuvable"sort played their rubber of whist there; for instance, M. Thiborddu Chalard, M. Lemarchant de Gomicourt, and the celebrated jester ofthe right division, M. Cornet Dincourt. The Bailiff of Ferrette, withhis knee-breeches and thin legs, at times passed through this room,when proceeding to M. de Talleyrand's; he had been a companion of theComte d'Artois, and acting in the opposite way to Aristotle recliningon Campaspe, he had made the Guimard crawl on all fours, and thusdisplayed to ages a philosopher avenged by a bailiff.
As for the priests, there was the Abbé Halma, the same to whom M.Larose, his fellow-contributor on _la Foudre_, said, "Stuff, who isnot fifty years of age? a few hobble-de-hoys, perhaps." Then came theAbbé Letourneur, preacher to the King; the Abbé Frayssinous, who atthat time was neither Bishop, Count, Minister, nor Peer, and who wore asoutane, from which buttons were absent; and the Abbé Keravenant, Curéof St. Germain des Prés. To them must be added the Papal Nuncio, atthat date Monsignore Macchi, Archbishop of Nisibi, afterwards Cardinal,and remarkable for his long pensive nose; and another Monsignore, whosetitles ran as follow: Abbate Palmieri, domestic Prelate, one of theseven Prothonotaries sharing in the Holy See, Canon of the gloriousLiberian Basilica, and advocate of the Saints, _postulatore Dei Santi_,an office relating to matters of canonization, and meaning very nearly,Referendary to the department of Paradise. Finally, two Cardinals, M.de la Luzerne, and M. de Cl---- T----. The Cardinal de Luzerne wasan author, and was destined to have the honor a few years later ofsigning articles in the _Conservateur_ side by side with Chateaubriand;M. de Cl---- T----, was Archbishop of Toulouse, and frequently spentthe summer in Paris with his nephew the Marquis de T----, who had beenMinister of the Navy and of War. The Cardinal de Cl---- T---- was amerry little old gentleman, who displayed his red stockings underhis tucked-up cassock. His specialty was hating the Encyclopædia andplaying madly at billiards; and persons who on summer evenings passedalong the Rue M----, where M. de Cl---- T---- then resided, stopped tolisten to the sound of the balls and the sharp voice of the Cardinalcrying to his Conclavist Monseigneur Cottret, Bishop _in partibus_of Caryste, "Mark me a carom, Abbé." The Cardinal de Cl---- T----had been introduced to Madame de T---- by his most intimate friend,M. de Roquelaure, ex-Bishop of Senlis and one of the Forty. M. deRoquelaure was remarkable for his great height and his assiduity atthe Academy. Through the glass door of the room adjoining the library,in which the French Academy at that time met, curious persons couldcontemplate every Thursday the ex-Bishop of Senlis, usually standingwith hair freshly powdered, in violet stockings, and turning his backto the door, apparently to display his little collar the better. Allthese ecclesiastics, although mostly courtiers as much as churchmen,added to the gravity of the salon, to which five Peers of France, theMarquis de Vib----, the Marquis de Tal----, the Marquis d'Herb----,the Vicomte Damb----, and the Duc de Val----, imparted the lordlytone. This Duc de Val----, though Prince de Mon----, that is to say,a foreign sovereign prince, had so lofty an idea of France and thePeerage, that he looked at everything through them. It was he who said,"The Cardinals are the French Peers of Rome, and the Lords are theFrench Peers of England." Still, as in the present age the Revolutionmust be everywhere, this feudal salon was ruled, as we have seen, by M.Gillenormand, a bourgeois.
It was the essence and quintessence of white Parisian society, andreputations, even Royalist ones, were kept in quarantine there, forthere is always anarchy in reputation. Had Chateaubriand come in hewould have produced the effect of Père Duchêne. Some converts, however,entered this orthodox society through a spirit of toleration. Thusthe Comte Beug---- was admitted for the purpose of correction. The"noble" salons of the present day in no way resemble the one which I amdescribing, for the Royalists of to-day, let us say it in their praise,are demagogues. At Madame de T----'s the society was superior, and thetaste exquisite and haughty beneath a grand bloom of politeness. Thehabits there displayed all sorts of involuntary refinement, which wasthe ancient régime itself, which lived though interred. Some of thesehabits, especially in conversation, seemed whimsical, and superficialpersons would have taken for provincialism what was merely antiquated.They called a lady "Madame la Générale," and "Madame la Colonelle" hadnot entirely been laid aside. The charming Madame de Léon, doubtlessremembering the Duchesses de Longueville and de Chevreuse, preferredthat appellation to her title of Princess, and the Marquise de Créquywas also called "Madame la Colonelle."
It was this small high society which invented at the Tuileries therefinement of always speaking of the King in the third person, andnever saying, "Your Majesty," as that qualification had been "sulliedby the usurper." Facts and men were judged there, and the age wasridiculed--which saved the trouble of comprehending it. They assistedone another in amazement, and communicated mutually the amount ofenlightenment they possessed. Methusalem instructed Epimenides,--thedeaf put the blind straight. The time which had elapsed since Coblenzwas declared not to have passed, and in the same way as Louis XVIII.was _Dei gratia_ in the twenty-fifth year of his reign, the _émigrés_were _de jure_ in the twenty-fifth year of their adolescence.
Everything harmonized there: no one was too lively, the speech waslike a breath, and the newspapers, in accordance with the salon,seemed a papyrus. The liveries in the ante-room were old, and thesepersonages who had completely passed away were served by footmen of thesame character. All this had the air of having lived a long time andobstinately struggling against the tomb. To Conserve, Conservation,Conservative, represented nearly their entire dictionary, and "to be ingood odor" was the point. There were really aromatics in the opinionsof these venerable groups, and their ideas smelt of vervain. It wasa mummy world, in which the masters were embalmed and the servantsstuffed. A worthy old Marchioness, ruined by the emigration, who hadonly one woman-servant left, continued to say, "My people."