Là-bas

by J.-K. Huysmans

  CHAPTER XVI

  "When I think," said Durtal to himself the next morning, "that in bed,at the moment when the most pertinacious will succumbs, I held firm andrefused to yield to the instances of Hyacinthe wishing to establish afooting here, and that after the carnal decline, at that instant whenannihilated man recovers--alas!--his reason, I supplicated her, myself,to continue her visits, why, I simply cannot understand myself. Deepdown, I have not got over my firm resolution of breaking with her, but Icould not dismiss her like a cocotte. And," to justify hisinconsistency, "I hoped to get some information about the canon. Oh, onthat subject I am not through with her. She's got to make up her mind tospeak out and quit answering me by monosyllables and guarded phrases asshe did yesterday.

  "Indeed, what can she have been up to with that abbe who was herconfessor and who, by her own admission, launched her into incubacy? Shehas been his mistress, that is certain. And how many other of thesepriests she has gone around with have been her lovers also? For sheconfessed, in a cry, that those are the men she loves. Ah, if one wentabout much in the clerical world one would doubtless learn remarkablethings concerning her and her husband. It is strange, all the same thatChantelouve, who plays a singular role in that household, has acquired adeplorable reputation, and she hasn't. Never have I heard anybody speakof her dodges--but, oh, what a fool I am! It isn't strange. Her husbanddoesn't confine himself to religious and polite circles. He hobnobs withmen of letters, and in consequence exposes himself to every sort ofslander, while she, if she takes a lover, chooses him out of a pioussociety in which not one of us would ever be received. And then, abbesare discreet. But how explain her infatuation with me? By the simplefact that she is surfeited of priests and a layman serves as a change ofdiet.

  "Just the same, she is quite singular, and the more I see her the less Iunderstand her. There are in her three distinct beings.

  "First the woman seated or standing up, whom I knew in her drawing-room,reserved, almost haughty, who becomes a good companion in private,affectionate and even tender.

  "Then the woman in bed, completely changed in voice and bearing, aharlot spitting mud, losing all shame.

  "Third and last, the pitiless vixen, the thorough Satanist, whom Iperceived yesterday.

  "What is the binding-alloy that amalgamates all these beings of hers? Ican't say. Hypocrisy, no doubt. No. I don't think so, for she is oftenof a disconcerting frankness--in moments, it is true, of forgetfulnessand unguardedness. Seriously, what is the use of trying to understandthe character of this pious harlot? And to be candid with myself, what Iwish ideally will never be realized; she does not ask me to take her toswell places, does not force me to dine with her, exacts no revenue: sheisn't trying to compromise and blackmail me. I shan't find abetter--but, oh, Lord! I now prefer to find no one at all. It suits meperfectly to entrust my carnal business to mercenary agents. For mytwenty francs I shall receive more considerate treatment. There is nogetting around it, only professionals know how to cook up a delicioussensual dish.

  "Odd," he said to himself after a reflective silence, "but, allproportions duly observed, Gilles de Rais divides himself like her, intothree different persons.

  "First, the brave and honest fighting man.

  "Then the refined and artistic criminal.

  "Finally the repentant sinner, the mystic.

  "He is a mass of contradictions and excesses. Viewing his life as awhole one finds each of his vices compensated by a contradictory virtue,but there is no key characteristic which reconciles them.

  "He is of an overweening arrogance, but when contrition takes possessionof him, he falls on his knees in front of the people of low estate, andhas the tears, the humility of a saint.

  "His ferocity passes the limits of the human scale, and yet he isgenerous and sincerely devoted to his friends, whom he cares for like abrother when the Demon has mauled them.

  "Impetuous in his desires, and nevertheless patient; brave in battle, acoward confronting eternity; he is despotic and violent, yet he is puttyin the hands of his flatterers. He is now in the clouds, now in theabyss, never on the trodden plain, the lowlands of the soul. Hisconfessions do not throw any light on his invariable tendency toextremes. When asked who suggested to him the idea of such crimes, heanswers, 'No one. The thought came to me only from myself, from myreveries, my daily pleasures, my taste for debauchery.' And he arraignshis indolence and constantly asserts that delicate repasts and strongdrink have helped uncage the wild animal in him.

  "Unresponsive to mediocre passions, he is carried away alternately bygood as well as evil, and he bounds from spiritual pole to spiritualpole. He dies at the age of thirty-six, but he has completely exhaustedthe possibilities of joy and grief. He has adored death, loved as avampire, kissed inimitable expressions of suffering and terror, and has,himself, been racked by implacable remorse, insatiable fear. He hasnothing more to try, nothing more to learn, here below.

  "Let's see," said Durtal, running over his notes. "I left him at themoment when the expiation begins. As I had written in one of mypreceding chapters, the inhabitants of the region dominated by thechateaux of the Marshal know now who the inconceivable monster is whocarries children off and cuts their throats. But no one dare speak.When, at a turn in the road, the tall figure of the butcher is seenapproaching, all flee, huddle behind the hedges, or shut themselves upin the cottages.

  "And Gilles passes, haughty and sombre, in the solitude of villageswhere no one dares venture abroad. Impunity seems assured him, for whatpeasant would be mad enough to attack a master who could have himgibbeted at a word?

  "Again, if the humble give up the idea of bringing Gilles de Rais tojustice, his peers have no intention of combating him for the benefit ofpeasants whom they disdain, and his liege, the duke of Brittany, Jean V,burdens him with favours and blandishments in order to extort his landsfrom him at a low price.

  "A single power can rise and, above feudal complicities, above earthlyinterest, avenge the oppressed and the weak. The Church. And it is theChurch in fact, in the person of Jean de Malestroit, which rises upbefore the monster and fells him.

  "Jean de Malestroit, Bishop of Nantes, belongs to an illustrious line.He is a near kinsman of Jean V, and his incomparable piety, hisinfallible Christian wisdom, and his enthusiastic charity, make himvenerated, even by the duke.

  "The wailing of Gilles's decimated flock reaches his ears. In silence hebegins an investigation and, setting spies upon the Marshal, waits onlyfor an opportune moment to begin the combat. And Gilles suddenly commitsan inexplicable crime which permits the Bishop to march forthwith uponhim and smite him.

  "To recuperate his shattered fortune, Gilles has sold his signorie ofSaint Etienne de Mer Morte to a subject of Jean V, Guillaume le Ferron,who delegates his brother, Jean le Ferron, to take possession of thedomain.

  "Some days later the Marshal gathers the two hundred men of his militaryhousehold and at their head marches on Saint Etienne. There, the day ofPentecost, when the assembled people are hearing mass, he precipitateshimself, sword in hand, into the church, sweeps aside the faithful,throwing them into tumult, and, before the dumbfounded priest, threatensto cleave Jean le Ferron, who is praying. The ceremony is broken off,the congregation take flight. Gilles drags le Ferron, pleading formercy, to the chateau, orders that the drawbridge be let down, and byforce occupies the place, while his prisoner is carried away toTiffauges and thrown into an underground dungeon.

  "Gilles has, at one and the same time, violated the unwritten law ofBrittany forbidding any baron to raise troops without the consent of theduke, and committed double sacrilege in profaning a chapel and seizingJean le Ferron, who is a tonsured clerk of the Church.

  "The Bishop learns of this outrage and prevails upon the reluctant JeanV to march against the rebel. Then, while one army advances on SaintEtienne, which Gilles abandons to take refuge with his little band inthe fortified manor of Machecoul, another army lays siege to Tiffauges.

  "During this time the priest
hastens his redoubled investigations. Hedelegates commissioners and procurators in all the villages wherechildren have disappeared. He himself quits his palace at Nantes,travels about the countryside, and takes the depositions of the bereft.The people at last speak, and on their knees beseech the Bishop toprotect them. Enraged by the atrocities which they reveal, he swearsthat justice shall be done.

  "It takes a month to hear all the reports. By letters-patent Jean deMalestroit establishes publicly the '_infamatio_' of Gilles, then, whenall the forms of canonic procedure have been gone through with, helaunches the mandate of arrest.

  "In this writ of warrant, given at Nantes the 13th day of September inthe year of Our Lord 1440, the Bishop notes all the crimes imputed tothe Marshal, then, in an energetic style, he commands his diocese tomarch against the assassin and dislodge him. 'Thus we do enjoin you,each and all, individually, by these presents, that ye cite immediatelyand peremptorily, without counting any man upon his neighbor, withoutdischarging the burden any man upon his neighbour, that ye cite beforeus or before the Official of our cathedral church, for Monday of thefeast of Exaltation of the Holy Cross, the 19th of September, Gilles,noble baron de Rais, subject to our puissance and to our jurisdiction;and we do ourselves cite him by these presents to appear before our barto answer for the crimes which weigh upon him. Execute these orders, anddo each of you cause them to be executed.'

  "And the next day the captain-at-arms, Jean Labbe, acting in the name ofthe duke, and Robin Guillaumet, notary, acting in the name of theBishop, present themselves, escorted by a small troop, before thechateau of Machecoul.

  "What sudden change of heart does the Marshal now experience? Too feebleto hold his own in the open field, he can nevertheless defend himselfbehind the sheltering ramparts--yet he surrenders.

  "Roger de Bricqueville and Gilles de Sille, his trusted councillors,have taken flight. He remains alone with Prelati, who also attempts, invain, to escape. He, like Gilles, is loaded with chains. RobinGuillaumet searches the fortress from top to bottom. He discovers bloodyclothes, imperfectly calcinated ashes which Prelati has not had time tothrow into the latrines. Amid universal maledictions and cries of horrorGilles and his servitors are conducted to Nimes and incarcerated in thechateau de la Tour Neuve.

  "Now this part is not very clear," said Durtal to himself. "Rememberingwhat a daredevil the Marshal had been, how can we reconcile ourselves tothe idea that he could give himself up to certain death and torturewithout striking a blow?

  "'Was he softened, weakened by his nights of debauchery, terrified bythe audacity of his own sacrileges, ravaged and torn by remorse? Was hetired of living as he did, and did he give himself up, as so manymurderers do, because he was irresistibly attracted to punishment?Nobody knows. Did he think himself above the law because of his loftyrank? Or did he hope to disarm the duke by playing upon his venality,offering him a ransom of manors and farm land?

  "One answer is as plausible as another. He may also have known howhesitant Jean V had been, for fear of rousing the wrath of the nobilityof his duchy, about yielding to the objurgations of the Bishop andraising troops for the pursuit and arrest.

  "Well, there is no document which answers these questions. An author cantake some liberties here and set down his own conjectures. But thatcurious trial is going to give me some trouble.

  "As soon as Gilles and his accomplices are incarcerated, two tribunalsare organized, one ecclesiastical to judge the crimes coming under thejurisdiction of the Church, the other civil to judge those on which thestate must pass.

  "To tell the truth, the civil tribunal, which is present at theecclesiastical hearings, effaces itself completely. As a matter of formit makes a brief cross-examination--but it pronounces the sentence ofdeath, which the Church cannot permit itself to utter, according to theold adage, '_Ecclesia abhorret a sanguine_.'

  "The ecclesiastical trial lasts five weeks, the civil, forty-eighthours. It seems that, to hide behind the robes of the Bishop, the dukeof Brittany has voluntarily subordinated the role of civil justice,which ordinarily stands up for its rights against the encroachments ofthe ecclesiastical court.

  "Jean de Malestroit presides over the hearings. He chooses forassistants the Bishops of Mans, of Saint Brieuc, and of Saint Lo, thenin addition he surrounds himself with a troop of jurists who work inrelays in the interminable sessions of the trial. Some of the moreimportant are Guillaume de Montigne, advocate of the secular court;Jean Blanchet, bachelor of laws; Guillaume Groyguet and Robert de laRiviere, licentiates _in utroque jure_, and Herve Levi, senescal ofQuimper. Pierre de l'Hospital, chancellor of Brittany, who is to presideover the civil hearings after the canonic judgment, assists Jean deMalestroit.

  "The public prosecutor is Guillaume Chapeiron, curate of Saint Nicolas,an eloquent and subtile man. Adjunct to him, to relieve him of thefatigue of the readings, are Geoffroy Pipraire, dean of Sainte Marie,and Jacques de Pentcoetdic, Official of the Church of Nantes.

  "In connection with the episcopal jurisdiction, the Church has called inthe assistance of the extraordinary tribunal of the Inquisition, for therepression of the crime of heresy, then comprehending perjury,blasphemy, sacrilege, all the crimes of magic.

  "It sits at the side of Jean de Malestroit in the redoubtable andlearned person of Jean Blouyn of the order of Saint Dominic, delegatedby the Grand Inquisitor of France, Guillaume Merici, to the functions ofVice Inquisitor of the city and diocese of Nantes.

  "The tribunal constituted, the trial opens the first thing in themorning, because judges and witnesses, in accordance with the custom ofthe times, must proceed fasting to the giving and hearing of evidence.The testimony of the parents of the victims is heard, and RobinGuillaumet, acting sergeant-at-arms, the man who arrested the Marshal atMachecoul, reads the citation bidding Gilles de Rais appear. He isbrought in and declares disdainfully that he does not recognize thecompetence of the Tribunal, but, as canonic procedure demands, theProsecutor at once 'in order that by this means the correction ofsorcery be not prevented,' petitions for and obtains from the tribunal aruling that this objection be quashed as being null in law and'frivolous.' He begins to read to the accused the counts on which he isto be tried. Gilles cries out that the Prosecutor is a liar and atraitor. Then Guillaume Chapeiron extends his hand toward the crucifix,swears that he is telling the truth, and challenges the Marshal to takethe same oath. But this man, who has recoiled from no sacrilege, istroubled. He refuses to perjure himself before God, and the session endswith Gilles still vociferating outrageous denunciations of theProsecutor.

  "The preliminaries completed, a few days later, the public hearingsbegin. The act of indictment is read aloud to the accused, in front ofan audience who shudder when Chapeiron indefatigably enumerates thecrimes one by one, and formally accuses the Marshal of having practisedsorcery and magic, of having polluted and slain little children, ofhaving violated the immunities of Holy Church at Saint Etienne de MerMorte.

  "Then after a silence he resumes his discourse, and making no account ofthe murders, but dwelling only on the crimes of which the punishment,foreseen by canonic law, can be fixed by the Church, he demands thatGilles be smitten with double excommunication, first as an evoker ofdemons, a heretic, apostate and renegade, second as a sodomist andperpetrator of sacrilege.

  "Gilles, who has listened to this incisive and scathing indictment,completely loses control of himself. He insults the judges, calls themsimonists and ribalds, and refuses to answer the questions put to him.The Prosecutor and advocates are unmoved; they invite him to present hisdefence.

  "Again he denounces them, insults them, but when called upon to refutethem he remains silent.

  "The Bishop and Vice Inquisitor declare him in contempt and pronounceagainst him the sentence of excommunication, which is soon made public.They decide in addition that the hearing shall be continued next day--"

  A ring of the doorbell interrupted Durtal's perusal of his notes. DesHermies entered.

  "I have just seen Carhaix. He i
s ill," he said.

  "That so? What seems to be the matter?"

  "Nothing very serious. A slight attack of bronchitis. He'll be up in afew days if he will consent to keep quiet."

  "I must go see him tomorrow," said Durtal.

  "And what are you doing?" enquired Des Hermies. "Working hard?"

  "Why, yes. I am digging into the trial of the noble baron de Rais. Itwill be as tedious to read as to write!"

  "And you don't know yet when you will finish your volume?"

  "No," answered Durtal, stretching. "As a matter of fact I wish it mightnever be finished. What will become of me when it is? I'll have to lookaround for another subject, and, when I find one, do all the drudgery ofplanning and then getting the introductory chapter written--the meanpart of any literary work is getting started. I shall pass mortal hoursdoing nothing. Really, when I think it over, literature has only oneexcuse for existing; it saves the person who makes it from thedisgustingness of life."

  "And, charitably, it lessens the distress of us few who still love art."

  "Few indeed!"

  "And the number keeps diminishing. The new generation no longerinterests itself in anything except gambling and jockeys."

  "Yes, you're quite right. The men can't spare from gambling the time toread, so it is only the society women who buy books and pass judgment onthem. It is to The Lady, as Schopenhauer called her, to the littlegoose, as I should characterize her, that we are indebted for theseshoals of lukewarm and mucilaginous novels which nowadays get puffed."

  "You think, then, that we are in for a pretty literature. Naturally youcan't please women by enunciating vigorous ideas in a crisp style."

  "But," Durtal went on, after a silence, "it is perhaps best that thecase should be as it is. The rare artists who remain have no business tobe thinking about the public. The artist lives and works far from thedrawing-room, far from the clamour of the little fellows who fix up thecustom-made literature. The only legitimate source of vexation to anauthor is to see his work, when printed, exposed to the contaminatingcuriosity of the crowd."

  "That is," said Des Hermies, "a veritable prostitution. To advertise athing for sale is to accept the degrading familiarities of the firstcomer."

  "But our impenitent pride--and also our need of the miserable sous--makeit impossible for us to keep our manuscripts sheltered from the asses.Art ought to be--like one's beloved--out of reach, out of the world. Artand prayer are the only decent ejaculations of the soul. So when one ofmy books appears, I let go of it with horror. I get as far as possiblefrom the environment in which it may be supposed to circulate. I carevery little about a book of mine until years afterward, when it hasdisappeared from all the shop windows and is out of print. Briefly, I amin no hurry to finish the history of Gilles de Rais, which,unfortunately, is getting finished in spite of me. I don't give a damnhow it is received."

  "Are you doing anything this evening?"

  "No. Why?"

  "Shall we dine together?"

  "Certainly."

  And while Durtal was putting on his shoes, Des Hermies remarked, "To methe striking thing about the so-called literary world of this epoch isits cheap hypocrisy. What a lot of laziness, for instance, that worddilettante has served to cover."

  "Yes, it's a great old alibi. But it is confounding to see that thecritic who today decrees himself the title of dilettante accepts it as aterm of praise and does not even suspect that he is slapping himself.The whole thing can be resolved into syllogism:

  "The dilettante has no personal temperament, since he objects to nothingand likes everything.

  "Whoever has no personal temperament has no talent."

  "Then," rejoined Des Hermies, putting on his hat, "an author who boastsof being a dilettante, confesses by that very thing that he is noauthor?"

  "Exactly."