Sixteen years previous to the epoch when this story takes place, onefine morning, on Quasimodo Sunday, a living creature had been deposited,after mass, in the church of Notre-Dame, on the wooden bed securelyfixed in the vestibule on the left, opposite that great image of SaintChristopher, which the figure of Messire Antoine des Essarts, chevalier,carved in stone, had been gazing at on his knees since 1413, whenthey took it into their heads to overthrow the saint and the faithfulfollower. Upon this bed of wood it was customary to expose foundlingsfor public charity. Whoever cared to take them did so. In front of thewooden bed was a copper basin for alms.
The sort of living being which lay upon that plank on the morning ofQuasimodo, in the year of the Lord, 1467, appeared to excite to a highdegree, the curiosity of the numerous group which had congregated aboutthe wooden bed. The group was formed for the most part of the fair sex.Hardly any one was there except old women.
In the first row, and among those who were most bent over the bed, fourwere noticeable, who, from their gray _cagoule_, a sort of cassock, wererecognizable as attached to some devout sisterhood. I do not seewhy history has not transmitted to posterity the names of these fourdiscreet and venerable damsels. They were Agnes la Herme, Jehanne de laTarme, Henriette la Gaultiere, Gauchere la Violette, all four widows,all four dames of the Chapel Etienne Haudry, who had quitted theirhouse with the permission of their mistress, and in conformity with thestatutes of Pierre d'Ailly, in order to come and hear the sermon.
However, if these good Haudriettes were, for the moment, complying withthe statutes of Pierre d'Ailly, they certainly violated with joy thoseof Michel de Brache, and the Cardinal of Pisa, which so inhumanlyenjoined silence upon them.
"What is this, sister?" said Agnes to Gauchere, gazing at the littlecreature exposed, which was screaming and writhing on the wooden bed,terrified by so many glances.
"What is to become of us," said Jehanne, "if that is the way childrenare made now?"
"I'm not learned in the matter of children," resumed Agnes, "but it mustbe a sin to look at this one."
"'Tis not a child, Agnes."
"'Tis an abortion of a monkey," remarked Gauchere.
"'Tis a miracle," interposed Henriette la Gaultiere.
"Then," remarked Agnes, "it is the third since the Sunday of the_Loetare_: for, in less than a week, we had the miracle of the mocker ofpilgrims divinely punished by Notre-Dame d'Aubervilliers, and that wasthe second miracle within a month."
"This pretended foundling is a real monster of abomination," resumedJehanne.
"He yells loud enough to deafen a chanter," continued Gauchere. "Holdyour tongue, you little howler!"
"To think that Monsieur of Reims sent this enormity to Monsieur ofParis," added la Gaultiere, clasping her hands.
"I imagine," said Agnes la Herme, "that it is a beast, an animal,--thefruit of--a Jew and a sow; something not Christian, in short, whichought to be thrown into the fire or into the water."
"I really hope," resumed la Gaultiere, "that nobody will apply for it."
"Ah, good heavens!" exclaimed Agnes; "those poor nurses yonder in thefoundling asylum, which forms the lower end of the lane as you go to theriver, just beside Monseigneur the bishop! what if this little monsterwere to be carried to them to suckle? I'd rather give suck to avampire."
"How innocent that poor la Herme is!" resumed Jehanne; "don't you see,sister, that this little monster is at least four years old, and that hewould have less appetite for your breast than for a turnspit."
The "little monster" we should find it difficult ourselves to describehim otherwise, was, in fact, not a new-born child. It was a very angularand very lively little mass, imprisoned in its linen sack, stamped withthe cipher of Messire Guillaume Chartier, then bishop of Paris, with ahead projecting. That head was deformed enough; one beheld only a forestof red hair, one eye, a mouth, and teeth. The eye wept, the mouthcried, and the teeth seemed to ask only to be allowed to bite. The wholestruggled in the sack, to the great consternation of the crowd, whichincreased and was renewed incessantly around it.
Dame Aloise de Gondelaurier, a rich and noble woman, who held by thehand a pretty girl about five or six years of age, and dragged a longveil about, suspended to the golden horn of her headdress, halted as shepassed the wooden bed, and gazed for a moment at the wretched creature,while her charming little daughter, Fleur-de-Lys de Gondelaurier,spelled out with her tiny, pretty finger, the permanent inscriptionattached to the wooden bed: "Foundlings."
"Really," said the dame, turning away in disgust, "I thought that theyonly exposed children here."
She turned her back, throwing into the basin a silver florin, which rangamong the liards, and made the poor goodwives of the chapel of EtienneHaudry open their eyes.
A moment later, the grave and learned Robert Mistricolle, the king'sprotonotary, passed, with an enormous missal under one arm and his wifeon the other (Damoiselle Guillemette la Mairesse), having thus by hisside his two regulators,--spiritual and temporal.
"Foundling!" he said, after examining the object; "found, apparently, onthe banks of the river Phlegethon."
"One can only see one eye," observed Damoiselle Guillemette; "there is awart on the other."
"It's not a wart," returned Master Robert Mistricolle, "it is an eggwhich contains another demon exactly similar, who bears another littleegg which contains another devil, and so on."
"How do you know that?" asked Guillemette la Mairesse.
"I know it pertinently," replied the protonotary.
"Monsieur le protonotare," asked Gauchere, "what do you prognosticate ofthis pretended foundling?"
"The greatest misfortunes," replied Mistricolle.
"Ah! good heavens!" said an old woman among the spectators, "and thatbesides our having had a considerable pestilence last year, and thatthey say that the English are going to disembark in a company atHarfleur."
"Perhaps that will prevent the queen from coming to Paris in the monthof September," interposed another; "trade is so bad already."
"My opinion is," exclaimed Jehanne de la Tarme, "that it would be betterfor the louts of Paris, if this little magician were put to bed on afagot than on a plank."
"A fine, flaming fagot," added the old woman.
"It would be more prudent," said Mistricolle.
For several minutes, a young priest had been listening to the reasoningof the Haudriettes and the sentences of the notary. He had a severeface, with a large brow, a profound glance. He thrust the crowd silentlyaside, scrutinized the "little magician," and stretched out his handupon him. It was high time, for all the devotees were already lickingtheir chops over the "fine, flaming fagot."
"I adopt this child," said the priest.
He took it in his cassock and carried it off. The spectators followedhim with frightened glances. A moment later, he had disappeared throughthe "Red Door," which then led from the church to the cloister.
When the first surprise was over, Jehanne de la Tarme bent down to theear of la Gaultiere,--
"I told you so, sister,--that young clerk, Monsieur Claude Frollo, is asorcerer."
CHAPTER II. CLAUDE FROLLO.