CHAPTER IX.
CONSIDERABLE OF A DISTURBANCE IN FONTAINEBLEAU.
It did not take long to get spread about the town that M. Martout andthe Messieurs Renault, intended, in conjunction with several Paris_savans_, to resuscitate a dead man.
M. Martout had sent a detailed account of the case to the celebratedKarl Nibor, who had hastened to lay it before the Biological Society. Acommittee was forthwith appointed to accompany M. Nibor toFontainebleau. The six commissioners and the reporter agreed to leaveParis the 15th of August,[2] being glad to escape the din of the publicrejoicings. M. Martout was notified to get things ready for theexperiment, which would probably last not less than three days.
Some of the Paris papers announced this great event among their"Miscellaneous Items," but the public paid little attention to it. Thegrand reception of the army returning from Italy engrossed everybody'sinterest, and moreover, the French do not put more than moderate faithin miracles promised in the newspapers.
But at Fontainebleau, it was an entirely different matter. Not onlyMonsieur Martout and the Messieurs Renault, but M. Audret, thearchitect, M. Bonnivet, the notary, and a dozen other of the bigwigs ofthe town, had seen and touched the mummy of the Colonel. They had spokenabout it to their friends, had described it to the best of theirability, and had recounted its history. Two or three copies of HerrMeiser's will were circulating from hand to hand. The question ofreanimations was the order of the day; they discussed it around thefish-pond, like the Academy of Sciences at a full meeting. Even in themarket-place you could have heard them talking about rotifers andtardigrades.
It must be admitted that the resuscitationists were not in the majority.A few professors of the college, noted for the paradoxical character oftheir minds; a few lovers of the marvellous, who had been duly convictedof table-tipping; and, to top off with a half dozen of those oldwhite-moustached grumblers who believe that the death of Napoleon I. isa calumnious lie set afloat by the English, constituted the whole of thearmy. M. Martout had against him not only the skeptics, but theinnumerable crowd of believers, in the bargain. One party turned him toridicule, the others proclaimed him revolutionary, dangerous, and anenemy of the fundamental ideas on which society rests. The minister ofone little church preached, in inuendoes, against the Prometheuses whoaspired to usurp the prerogatives of Heaven. But the rector of theparish did not hesitate to say, in five or six houses, that the cure ofa man as desperately sick as M. Fougas, would be an evidence of thepower and mercy of God.
The garrison of Fontainebleau was at that time composed of foursquadrons of cuirassiers and the 23d regiment of the line, which haddistinguished itself at Magenta. As soon as it was known in ColonelFougas' old regiment that that illustrious officer was possibly going toreturn to the world, there was a general sensation. A regiment knows itshistory, and the history of the 23d had been that of Fougas fromFebruary, 1811, to November, 1813. All the soldiers had heard read, attheir messes, the following anecdote:
"On the 27th of August, 1813, at the battle of Dresden, the Emperornoticed a French regiment at the foot of a Russian redoubt which waspouring grape upon it. He asked what regiment it was, and was told thatit was the 23d of the line. 'That's impossible!' said he. 'The 23d ofthe line never stood under fire without rushing upon the artillerythundering at it.' At that moment the 23d, led by Colonel Fougas, rushedup the height at double quick, pinned the artillerists to their guns,and took the redoubt."
The officers and soldiers, justly proud of this memorable action,venerated, under the name of Fougas, one of the fathers of the regiment.The idea of seeing him appear in the midst of them, young and living,did not appear likely, but it was already something to be in possessionof his body. Officers and soldiers decided that he should be interred attheir expense, after the experiments of Doctor Martout were completed.And to give him a tomb worthy of his glory, they voted an assessment oftwo days' pay.
Every one who wore an epaulette visited M. Renault's laboratory; theColonel of cuirassiers went there several times--in hopes of meetingClementine. But Leon's betrothed kept herself out of the way.
She was happier than any woman had ever been, this pretty littleClementine. No cloud longer disturbed the serenity of her fair brow.Free from all anxieties, with a heart opened to Hope, she adored herdear Leon, and passed her days in telling him so. She herself hadpressed the publication of the bans.
"We will be married," said she, "the day after the resuscitation of theColonel. I intend that he shall give me away, I want him to bless me.That is certainly the least he can do for me, after all I have done forhim. It is certain that, but for my opposition, you would have sent himto the museum of the _Jardin des Plantes_. I will tell him all this,Sir, as soon as he can understand us, and he will cut _your_ ears off,in _his_ turn! I love you!"
"But," answered Leon, "why do you make my happiness dependent on thesuccess of an experiment? All the usual formalities are executed, thepublications made, the notices given: no one in the world can preventour marrying to-morrow, and you are pleased to wait until the 19th! Whatconnection is there between us and this desiccated gentleman asleep inhis box? He doesn't belong to your family or mine. I have examined allyour family records back to the sixth generation, and I haven't foundanybody of the name of Fougas in them. So we are not waiting for agrandfather to be present at the ceremony. Who is he, then? The wickedtongues of Fontainebleau pretend that you have a _penchant_ for thisfetich of 1813; as for me, who am sure of your heart, I trust that youwill never love any one as well as me. However they call me the rival ofthe Sleeping Colonel in the Wood."
"Let the fools prate!" responded Clementine, with an angelic smile. "Ido not trouble myself to explain my affection for poor Fougas, but Ilove him very much, that's certain. I love him as a father, as abrother, if you prefer it, for he is almost as young as I. When we haveresuscitated him, I will love him, perhaps, as a son; but you will losenothing by it, dear Leon. You have in my heart a place by itself, thebest too, and no one shall take it from you, not even _he_."
This lovers' quarrel, which often began, and always ended with a kiss,was one day interrupted by a visit from the commissioner of police.
This honorable functionary politely declined to give his name andbusiness, and requested the favor of a private interview with youngRenault.
"Monsieur," said he, when he saw him alone, "I appreciate all theconsideration due to a man of your character and position, and I hopeyou will see fit not to interpret unpleasantly a proceeding which isprompted in me by a sense of duty."
Leon opened his eyes and waited for the continuation of the discourse.
"You are aware, Monsieur," pursued the Commissioner, "of what isrequired by the law concerning interments. It is express, and admits noexception. The authorities can keep their eyes shut, but the greattumult that has arisen, and, moreover, the rank of the deceased, withouttaking into account the religious considerations, put us underobligation to proceed ... in conjunction with you, let it be wellunderstood...."
Leon comprehended little by little. The commissioner finished byexplaining to him, always in the administrative style, that it wasincumbent upon him to have M. Fougas taken to the town cemetery.
"But Monsieur," replied the engineer, "if you have heard people speakingof Colonel Fougas, they ought to have told you withal that we do notconsider him dead."
"Nonsense!" answered the Commissioner, with a slight smile. "Opinionsare free. But the doctor whose office it is to attend to thedisposition of the dead, and who has had the pleasure of seeing thedeceased, has made us a conclusive report which points to immediateinterment."
"Very well, Monsieur, if Fougas is dead, we are in hopes ofresuscitating him."
"So we have been told already Monsieur, but, for my part, I hesitated tobelieve it."
"You will believe it when you have seen it; and I hope, Monsieur, thatthat will be before long."
"But then, Monsieur, have you fixed everything in due form?"
"With whom?"
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"I do not know, Monsieur, but I suppose that before undertaking such athing as this, you have fortified yourself with some legalauthorization."
"From whom?"
"But at all events, Monsieur, you admit that the reanimation of a man isan extraordinary affair. As for myself, this is really the first timethat I ever heard it spoken of. Now the duty of a well regulated police,is to prevent anything extraordinary happening in the country."
"Let us see, Monsieur. If I were to say to you: 'Here is a man who isnot dead; I have a well-founded hope of setting him on his feet in threedays; your doctor, who maintains the contrary, deceives himself,' wouldyou take the responsibility of having Fougas buried?"
"Certainly not! God forbid that I should take any responsibility of anykind on my shoulders! But however, Monsieur, in having M. Fougas buried,I would act in accordance with law and order. Now after all, by whatright do you presume to resuscitate a man? In what country isresuscitation customary? Where is the precept of law which authorizesyou to resuscitate people?"
"Do you know any law that prohibits it? Now everything that is notprohibited is permitted."
"In the eyes of the magistrates, very likely. But the police ought toprevent and stem disorder. Now a resuscitation, Monsieur, is a thing sounheard of as to constitute an actual disorder."
"You will admit, nevertheless, that it is a very happy disorder."
"There's no such thing as a happy disorder. Consider, morever, that thedeceased is not a common sort of a man. If the question concerned avagabond without house or home, one could use some tolerance in regardto it. But this is a soldier, an officer, of high rank and decoratedtoo; a man who has occupied an exalted position in the army. The _army_,Monsieur! It will not do to touch the army!"
"Eh! Monsieur, I touch the army like a surgeon who tends its wounds. Itis proposed to restore to the army a colonel. And you, actuated by thespirit of routine, wish to rob it of one."
"Don't get so excited, Monsieur, I beg of you, and don't talk so loud:people can hear us. Believe me, I will meet you half way in anything youwant to do for the great and glorious army of my country. But have youconsidered the religious question?"
"What religious question?"
"To tell you the truth, Monsieur (but this entirely between ourselves),what we have spoken of so far is purely accessory and we are nowtouching upon the delicate point. People have come to see me and havemade some very judicious remarks to me. The mere announcement of yourproject has cast a good deal of trouble into certain consciences. Theyfear that the success of an undertaking of this kind may strike a blowat the faith, may, in a word, scandalize many tranquil spirits. For, ifM. Fougas is dead, of course it is because God has so willed it. Aren'tyou afraid of acting contrary to the will of God, in resuscitating him?"
"No, Monsieur: for I am sure not to resuscitate Fougas if God has willedit otherwise; God permits a man to catch the fever, but God also permitsa doctor to cure him. God permitted a brave soldier of the Emperor to becaptured by four drunken Russians, condemned as a spy, frozen in afortress and desiccated under an air-pump by an old German. But God alsopermitted me to find this unfortunate man in a junk-shop, to carry himto Fontainebleau, to examine him with certain men of science and toagree with them upon a method almost sure to restore him to life. Allthis proves one thing--which is that God is more just, more merciful andmore inclined to pity than those who abuse his name in order to exciteyou."
"I assure you, Monsieur, that I am not in the least excited. I yield toyour reasons because they are good ones and because you are a man ofconsideration in the community. I sincerely hope, moreover, that youwill not think harshly of an act of zeal which I have been advised toperform. I am a functionary, Monsieur. Now, what is a functionary? A manwho holds a place. Suppose now that functionaries were to exposethemselves to the loss of their places, what would stand firm in France?Nothing, Monsieur, absolutely nothing. I have the honor to bid you goodday!"
On the morning of the 15th of August, M. Karl Nibor presented himself atM. Renault's with Doctor Martont and the committee appointed by theBiological Society of Paris. As often happens in the rural districts thefirst appearance of our illustrious savant was a sort of disappointment.Mme. Renault expected to see, if not a magician in a velvet robe studdedwith gold, at least an old man of extraordinarily grave and impressiveappearance. Karl Nibor is a man of middle height, very fair and veryslight. Possibly he carries a good forty years, but one would not credithim with more than thirty-five. He wears a moustache and imperial; islively, a good conversationist, agreeable and enough of a man of theworld to amuse the ladies. But Clementine did not have the pleasure ofhis conversation. Her aunt had taken her to Moret in order to remove herfrom the pangs of fear as well as from the intoxications of victory.