What his bedazzlement neglected in this first appreciation, which wasfar too synthetical, we do not think it necessary to indicate here. Weare describing the state of a mind advancing, and all progress is notmade in one march. This said, once for all, as to what precedes andwhat is to follow, we will continue.
He then perceived that up to this moment he had no more understood hiscountry than he had his father. He had known neither the one nor theother, and he had spread a species of voluntary night over his eyes.He now saw; and on one side he admired, on the other he adored. He wasfull of regret and remorse, and he thought with despair that he couldonly tell to a tomb all that he had in his mind. Oh, if his father werealive, if he had him still, if God in His compassion and His goodnesshad allowed this father to be still alive, how he would have flown, howhe would have cried to his father,--"Father, here I am, it is I! I havethe same heart as you! I am your son!" How he would have kissed hiswhite head, bathed his hair with his tears, gazed at his scar, pressedhis hand, adored his clothes, and embraced his feet! Oh, why did thisfather die so soon, before justice had been done him, before he hadknown his son's love? Marius had a constant sob in his heart, whichsaid at every moment, "Alas!" At the same time he became more trulyserious, more truly grave, more sure of his faith and his thoughts.At each instant beams of light arrived to complete his reason, anda species of internal growth went on within him. He felt a naturalaggrandizement produced by the two things so new to him,--his fatherand his country.
As a door can be easily opened when we hold the key, he explainedto himself what he had hated, and understood what he had abhorred.Henceforth he saw clearly the providential, divine, and human meaning,the great things which he had been taught to detest, and the great menwhom he had been instructed to curse. When he thought of his previousopinions, which were but of yesterday, and which yet seemed to himso old, he felt indignant and smiled. From the rehabilitation of hisfather he had naturally passed to that of Napoleon; but the latter,we must say, was not effected without labor. From childhood he hadbeen imbued with the judgments of the party of 1814 about Bonaparte;now, all the prejudices of the Restoration, all its interests, andall its instincts, tended to disfigure Napoleon, and it execratedhim, even more than Robespierre. It had worked rather cleverly uponthe weariness of the nation and the hatred of mothers. Bonaparte hadbecome a species of almost fabulous monster, and in order to depicthim to the imagination of the people, which, as we said just now,resembles that of children, the party of 1814 brought forward in turnall the frightful masques, from that which is terrible while remaininggrand, down to that which is terrible while becoming grotesque,--fromTiberius down to old Bogy. Hence, in speaking of Bonaparte, people wereat liberty to sob or burst with laughter, provided that hatred sungthe bass. Marius had never had on the subject of--that man, as he wascalled--any other ideas but these in his mind, and they were combinedwith his natural tenacity. He was a headstrong little man, who hatedNapoleon.
On reading history, on studying before all documents and materials, theveil which hid Napoleon from Marius's sight was gradually rent asunder;he caught a glimpse of something immense, and suspected that up to thismoment he had been mistaken about Bonaparte, as about all the rest;each day he saw more clearly, and he began climbing slowly, step bystep, at the beginning almost reluctantly, but then with intoxication,and as if attracted by an irresistible fascination, first the gloomysteps, then the dimly-lighted steps, and at last the luminous andsplendid steps of enthusiasm.
One night he was alone in his little garret, his candle was lighted,and he was reading at a table by the open window. All sorts of reveriesreached him from the space, and were mingled with his thoughts. Whata spectacle is night! We hear dull sounds and know not whence theycome; we see Jupiter, which is twelve hundred times larger than theearth glowing like a fire-ball; the blue is black, the stars sparkle,and the whole forms a formidable sight. He was reading the bulletinsof the grand army, those Homeric strophes written on the battle-field;he saw in them at intervals the image of his father, and ever thatof the Emperor; the whole of the great Empire was before him; hefelt, as it were, a tide within him swelling and mounting; it seemedat moments as if his father passed close to him like a breath, andwhispered in his ear; little by little he grew strange, he fanciedhe could hear drums, cannon, and bugles, the measured tread of thebattalions, and the hollow distant gallop of the cavalry; from timeto time his eyes were raised and surveyed the colossal constellationsflashing in the profundities, and then they fell again upon the book,and he saw in that other colossal things stirring confusedly. His heartwas contracted, he was transported, trembling, and gasping; and allalone, without knowing what was within him or what he obeyed, he rose,stretched his arms out of the window, looked fixedly at the shadow, thesilence, the dark infinitude, the eternal immensity, and shouted, "Longlive the Emperor!"
From this moment it was all over. The ogre of Corsica, the usurper,the tyrant, the monster who was the lover of his own sisters, theactor who took lessons of Talma, the prisoner of Jaffa, the tiger,Buonaparte,--all this faded away and made room in his mind for aradiance in which the pale marble phantom of Cæsar stood out serenelyat an inaccessible height. The Emperor had never been to his fathermore than the beloved captain whom a man admires and for whom hedevotes himself; but to Marius he was far more. He was the predestinedconstructor of the French group which succeeded the Roman group inthe dominion of the universe; he was the prodigious architect ofan earthquake, the successor of Charlemagne, Louis XI., Henri IV.,Richelieu, Louis XIV., and the Committee of Public Safety. He haddoubtless his spots, his faults, and even his crimes, that is to say,he was a man; but he was august in his faults, brilliant in his spots,and powerful in his crime. He was the predestined man who compelledall nations to say,--"The great nation." He was even more; he was thevery incarnation of France, conquering Europe by the sword he held,and the world by the lustre which he emitted. Marius saw in Bonapartethe dazzling spectre which will ever stand on the frontier and guardthe future. He was a despot, but a dictator,--a despot resulting froma republic and completing a revolution. Napoleon became for him theman-people, as the Saviour is the man-God.
As we see, after the fashion of all new converts to a religion, hisconversion intoxicated him and he dashed into faith and went too far.His nature was so; once upon an incline, it was impossible to checkhimself. Fanaticism for the sword seized upon him, and complicatedin his mind the enthusiasm for the idea. He did not perceive that headmired force as well as genius, that is to say, filled up the twoshrines of his idolatry,--on one side that which is divine, on theother that which is brutal. He also deceived himself on several otherpoints, though in a different way; he admitted everything. There is away of encountering error by going to meet the truth, and by a sortof violent good faith, which accepts everything unconditionally. Uponthe new path he had entered, while judging the wrongs of the ancientrégime and measuring the glory of Napoleon, he neglected attenuatingcircumstances.
However this might be, a prodigious step was made; where he had onceseen the downfall of monarchy he now saw the accession of France. Thepoints of his moral compass were changed, and what had once been sunsetwas now sunrise; and all these revolutions took place in turns, withouthis family suspecting it. When, in this mysterious labor, he hadentirely lost his old Bourbonic and Ultra skin, when he had pulled offthe aristocrat, the Jacobite, and the Royalist, when he was a perfectRevolutionist, profoundly democratic, and almost republican, he went toan engraver's and ordered one hundred cards, with the address, "BaronMarius Pontmercy." This was but the logical consequence of the changewhich had taken place in him,--a change in which everything gravitatedround his father. Still, as he knew nobody and could not show his cardsat any porter's lodge, he put them in his pocket.
By another natural consequence, in proportion as he drew nearer to hisfather, his memory, and the things for which the Colonel had foughtduring five-and-twenty years, he drew away from his grandfather. As wesaid, M. Gillenormand's humor
had not suited him for a long time past,and there already existed between them all the dissonances producedby the contact of a grave young man with a frivolous old man. Thegayety of Géronte offends and exasperates the melancholy of Werther.So long as the same political opinions and ideas had been common tothem, Marius met his grandfather upon them as on a bridge; but when thebridge fell there was a great gulf between them. And then, before allelse, Marius had indescribable attacks of revolt when he reflectedthat it was M. Gillenormand who, through stupid motives, pitilesslytore him from the Colonel, thus depriving father of son, and son offather. Through his reverence for his father, Marius had almost grownto have an aversion for his grandfather.
Nothing of this, however, was revealed in his demeanor; he merelybecame colder than before, laconic at meals, and rarely at home. Whenhis aunt scolded him for it he was very gentle, and alleged as excusehis studies, examinations, conferences, etc. The grandfather, however,still adhered to his infallible diagnostic,--"He is in love; I know thesymptoms." Marius was absent every now and then.
"Where can he go?" the aunt asked.
In one of his trips, which were always very short, he went toMontfermeil in order to obey his father's intimation, and sought forthe ex-Sergeant of Waterloo, Thénardier the landlord. Thénardier hadfailed, the public-house was shut up, and no one knew what had becomeof him. In making this search Marius remained away for four days.
"He is decidedly getting out of order," said the grandfather.
They also fancied they could notice that he wore under his shirtsomething fastened round his neck by a black ribbon.
CHAPTER VII.
SOME PETTICOAT.
We have alluded to a lancer: he was a great-grand-nephew of M.Gillenormand's, on the father's side, who led a garrison life, far awayfrom the domestic hearth. Lieutenant Théodule Gillenormand fulfilledall the conditions required for a man to be a pretty officer: hehad a young lady's waist, a victorious way of clanking his sabre,and turned-up moustaches. He came very rarely to Paris, so rarelythat Marius had never seen him, and the two cousins only knew eachother by name. Théodule was, we think we said, the favorite of AuntGillenormand, who preferred him because she never saw him; for notseeing people allows of every possible perfection being attributed tothem.
One morning Mlle. Gillenormand the elder returned to her apartments, asmuch affected as her general placidity would allow. Marius had againasked his grandfather's permission to make a short trip, adding thathe wished to start that same evening. "Go," the grandfather answered;and he added to himself, as he pursed up his eye, "Another relapse ofsleeping from home." Mile. Gillenormand went up to her room greatlypuzzled, and cast to the stair-case case this exclamation, "It's toomuch!" and this question, "But where is it that he goes?" She caught aglimpse of some more or less illicit love adventure, of a woman in theshadow, a meeting, a mystery, and would not have felt vexed to have acloser peep at it through her spectacles. Scenting a mystery is likethe first bite at a piece of scandal, and holy souls do not detestit. In the secret compartments of bigotry there is some curiosity forscandal.
She was, therefore, suffering from a vague appetite to learn a story.In order to distract this curiosity, which agitated her a little beyondher wont, she took refuge in her talents, and began festooning withcotton upon cotton one of those embroideries of the Empire and theRestoration, in which there are a great many cabriolet wheels. It wasa clumsy job, and the workwoman was awkward. She had been sitting overit for some hours when the door opened. Mlle. Gillenormand raised hernose, and saw Lieutenant Théodule before her, making his regulationsalute. She uttered a cry of delight; for a woman may be old, a prude,devout, and an aunt, but she is always glad to see a lancer enter herroom.
"You here, Théodule!" she exclaimed.
"In passing, my dear aunt."
"Well, kiss me."
"There," said Théodule, as he kissed her. Aunt Gillenormand walked toher secretaire and opened it.
"You will stop the week out?"
"My dear aunt, I am off again to-night."
"Impossible!"
"Mathematically."
"Stay, my little Théodule, I beg of you."
"The heart says Yes, but duty says No. The story is very simple; we arechanging garrison; we were at Melun, and are sent to Gaillon. In orderto go to the new garrison we were obliged to pass through Paris, and Isaid to myself, 'I will go and see my aunt.'"
"And here's for your trouble."
And she slipped ten louis into his hand.
"You mean to say for my pleasure, dear aunt."
Théodule kissed her a second time, and she had the pleasure of havingher neck slightly grazed by his gold-laced collar.
"Are you travelling on horseback, with your regiment?"
"No, my aunt: I have come to see you by special permission. My servantis leading my horse, and I shall travel by the diligence. By the way,there is one thing I want to ask you."
"What is it?"
"It appears that my cousin Marius Pontmercy is going on a journey too?"
"How do you know that?" the aunt said, her curiosity being greatlytickled.
"On reaching Paris I went to the coach-office to take my place in the_coupé_."
"Well?"
"A traveller had already taken a seat in the Impériale, and I saw hisname in the way-bill: it was Marius Pontmercy."
"Oh, the scamp!" the aunt exclaimed. "Ah! your cousin is not asteady lad like you. To think that he is going to pass the night in adiligence!"
"Like myself."
"You do it through duty, but he does it through disorder."
"The deuce!" said Théodule.
Here an event occurred to Mlle. Gillenormand the elder: she had anidea. If she had been a man she would have struck her forehead. Sheaddressed Théodule.
"You are aware that your cousin does not know you?"
"I have seen him, but he never deigned to notice me."
"Where is the diligence going to?"
"To Andelys."
"Is Marius going there?"
"Unless he stops on the road, like myself. I get out at Vernon, to takethe Gaillon coach. I know nothing about Marius's route."
"Marius! what an odious name! What an idea it was to call him that!Well, your name, at least, is Théodule."
"I would rather it was Alfred," the officer said.
"Listen, Théodule; Marius absents himself from the house."
"Eh, eh!"
"He goes about the country."
"Ah, ah!"
"He sleeps out."
"Oh, oh!"
"We should like to know the meaning of all this."
Théodule replied, with the calmness of a bronze man, "Some petticoat!"
And with that inward chuckle which evidences a certainty, he added, "agirl!"
"That is evident!" the aunt exclaimed, who believed that she heard M.Gillenormand speaking, and who felt his conviction issue irresistiblyfrom that word "girl," accentuated almost in the same way bygrand-uncle and grand-nephew. She continued,--
"Do us a pleasure by following Marius a little. As he does not knowyou, that will be an easy matter. Since there is a girl in the case,try to get a look at her, and write and tell us all about it, for itwill amuse grandfather."
Théodule had no excessive inclination for this sort of watching, buthe was greatly affected by the ten louis, and he believed he could seea possible continuation of such gifts. He accepted the commission, andsaid, "As you please, aunt," and added in an aside, "I am a Duenna now!"
Mlle. Gillenormand kissed him.
"You would not play such tricks as that, Théodule, for you obeydiscipline, are the slave of duty, and a scrupulous man, and wouldnever leave your family to go and see one of those creatures."
The lancer made the satisfied grimace of Cartouche when praised for hisprobity.
Marius, on the evening that followed this dialogue, got into thediligence, not suspecting that he was watched. As for the watcher, thefirst thing he did was to f
all asleep, and his sleep was complete andconscientious. Argus snored the whole night. At daybreak the guardshouted, "Vernon; passengers for Vernon, get out here!" and LieutenantThéodule got out.
"All right," he growled, still half asleep, "I get out here."
Then his memory growing gradually clearer, he thought of his aunt,the ten louis, and the account he had promised to render of Marius'ssayings and doings. This made him laugh.
"He is probably no longer in the coach," he thought, while buttoningup his jacket. "He may have stopped at Poissy, he may have stopped atTriel; if he did not get out at Meulan, he may have done so at Mantes,unless he stopped at Rolleboise, or only went as far as Passy, with thechoice of turning on his left to Évreux, or on his right to LarocheGuyon. Run after him, my aunt. What the deuce shall I write to the oldlady?"