by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER VI.
THE TWO OLD MEN, EACH IN HIS FASHION, DO EVERYTHING FOR COSETTE'SHAPPINESS.
All preparations were made for the marriage, and the physician, onbeing consulted, declared that it might take place in February. It wasnow December; and a few ravishing weeks of perfect happiness slippedaway. The least happy man was not the grandfather: he sat for a wholequarter of an hour contemplating Cosette.
"The admirably pretty girl!" he would exclaim, "and she has so softand kind an air! She is the most charming creature I have ever seen inmy life. Presently she will have virtues with a violet scent. She isone of the Graces, on my faith! A man can only live nobly with such acreature. Marius, my lad, you are a baron, you are rich; so do not be apettifogger, I implore you."
Cosette and Marius had suddenly passed from the sepulchre intoparadise: the transition had not been prepared, and they would havebeen stunned if they had not been dazzled.
"Do you understand anything of all this?" Marius would say to Cosette.
"No," Cosette answered; "but it seems to me as if the good God werelooking at us."
Jean Valjean did everything, smoothed everything, conciliatedeverything, and rendered everything easy. He hurried toward Cosette'shappiness with as much eagerness and apparently with as much joyas Cosette herself. As he had been Mayor, he was called to solve adelicate problem, the secret of which he alone possessed,--the civilstatus of Cosette. To tell her origin openly might have prevented themarriage; but he got Cosette out of all the difficulties. He arrangedfor her a family of dead people, a sure method of not incurring anyinquiry. Cosette was the only one left of an extinct family. Cosettewas not his daughter, but the daughter of another Fauchelevent. Twobrothers Fauchelevent had been gardeners at the convent of the LittlePicpus. They proceeded to this convent; the best testimonials and mostsatisfactory character were given; for the good nuns, little suited andbut little inclined to solve questions of paternity, had never knownexactly of which of the two Fauchelevents Cosette was the daughter.They said what was wanted, and said it zealously. An instrument wasdrawn up by a notary and Cosette became by law Mademoiselle EuphrasieFauchelevent, and was declared an orphan both on the father's andmother's side. Jean Valjean managed so as to be designated, under thename of Fauchelevent, as guardian of Cosette, with M. Gillenormand assupervising guardian. As for the five hundred and eighty-four thousandfrancs, they were a legacy left to Cosette by a dead person who wishedto remain unknown. The original legacy had been five hundred andninety-four thousand francs, but ten thousand had been spent in theeducation of Mademoiselle Euphrasie, five thousand of which had beenpaid to the convent. This legacy, deposited in the hands of a thirdparty, was to be handed over to Cosette upon her majority, or at theperiod of her marriage. All this was highly acceptable, as we see,especially when backed up by more than half a million francs. Therewere certainly a few singular points here and there, but they were notseen, for one of the persons interested had his eyes bandaged by love,and the others by the six hundred thousand francs.
Cosette learned that she was not the daughter of the old man whomshe had so long called father; he was only a relation, and anotherFauchelevent was her real father. At another moment this would havegrieved her, but in the ineffable hour she had now reached it was onlya slight shadow, a passing cloud; and she had so much joy that thiscloud lasted but a short time. She had Marius. The young man came; theold man disappeared: life is so. And then, Cosette had been accustomedfor many long years to see enigmas around her; every being who has hada mysterious childhood is ever ready for certain renunciations. Stillshe continued to call Jean Valjean "father." Cosette, who was among theangels, was enthusiastic about Father Gillenormand; it is true thathe overwhelmed her with madrigals and presents. While Jean Valjeanwas constructing for Cosette an unassailable position in society, M.Gillenormand attended to the wedding trousseau. Nothing amused him somuch as to be magnificent; and he had given Cosette a gown of Bincheguipure, which he inherited from his own grandmother. "These fashionsspring up again," he said; "antiquities are the great demand, andthe young ladies of my old days dress themselves like the old ladiesof my youth." He plundered his respectable round-bellied commodes ofCoromandel lacquer, which had not been opened for years. "Let us shrivethese dowagers," he said, "and see what they have in their paunch." Henoisily violated drawers full of the dresses of all his wives, all hismistresses, and all his female ancestry. He lavished on Cosette Chinesesatins, damasks, lampas, painted moires, gros de Naples dresses, Indianhandkerchiefs embroidered with gold that can be washed, Genoa andAlençon point lace, sets of old jewelry, ivory bonbon boxes adornedwith microscopic battles, laces, and ribbons. Cosette, astounded, wildwith love for Marius and with gratitude to M. Gillenormand, dreamed ofan unbounded happiness, dressed in satin and velvet. Her wedding-basketseemed to her supported by seraphim, and her soul floated in etherwith wings of Mechlin lace. The intoxication of the lovers was onlyequalled, as we stated, by the ecstasy of the grandfather, and therewas something like a flourish of trumpets in the Rue des Filles duCalvaire. Each morning there was a new offering of _bric-à-brac_ fromthe grandfather to Cosette, and all sorts of ornaments were spread outsplendidly around her. One day Marius, who not unfrequently talkedgravely through his happiness, said, with reference to some incidentwhich I have forgotten,--
"The men of the revolution are so great that they already possess theprestige of centuries, like Cato and like Phocion, and each of themseems a mémoire antique."
"Moire antique!" exclaimed the old gentleman; "thank you, Marius, thatis the very idea which I was seeking for."
And on the morrow a splendid tea-colored moire antique dress was addedto Cosette's outfit. The grandfather extracted a wisdom from thisfrippery:--
"Love is all very well, but this is required with it. Somethinguseless is required in happiness; happiness is only what is absolutelynecessary, but season it, say I, with an enormous amount ofsuperfluity. A palace and her heart; her heart and the Louvre. Giveme my shepherdess, and try that she be a duchess. Bring me Philliscrowned with corn-flowers, and add to her one thousand francs a year.Open for me an endless Bucolic under a marble colonnade. I consentto the Bucolic and also to the fairy scene in marble and gold. Dryhappiness resembles dry bread; you eat it, but you do not dine. I wishfor superfluity, for the useless, for extravagance, for that which isof no use. I remember to to have seen in Strasburg Cathedral a clockas tall as a three-storied house, which marked the hour, which had thekindness to mark the hour, but did not look as if it was made for thepurpose; and which, after striking midday or midnight,--midday, thehour of the sun, and midnight, the hour of love, or any other houryou please,--gave you the moon and the stars, earth and sea, birdsand fishes, Phœbus and Phœbe, and a heap of things that cameout of a corner, and the twelve apostles, and the Emperor Charles V.,and Éponine and Sabinus, and a number of little gilt men who playedthe trumpet into the bargain, without counting the ravishing chimeswhich it scattered in the air on every possible occasion, without yourknowing why. Is a wretched, naked clock, which only marks the hours,worth that? I am of the opinion of the great clock of Strasburg, andprefer it to the Black Forest cuckoo clock."
M. Gillenormand talked all sorts of nonsense about the marriage, andall the ideas of the eighteenth century passed pell-mell into hisdithyrambs.
"You are ignorant of the art of festivals, and do not know how to getup a day's pleasure in these times," he exclaimed. "Your nineteenthcentury is soft, and is deficient in excess: it is ignorant of whatis rich and noble. In everything it is close-shorn. Your third estateis insipid and has no color, smell, or shape. The dream of yourbourgeoises, who establish themselves, as they call it, is a prettyboudoir freshly decorated with mahogany and calico. Make way, there!The Sieur Grigou marries the Demoiselle Grippesou. Sumptuousness andsplendor. A louis d'or has been stuck to a wax candle. Such is theage. I insist on flying beyond the Sarmatians. Ah, so far back as1787 I predicted that all was lost on the day when I saw the Due deRohan, Princ
e de Léon, Duc de Chabot, Duc de Montbazon, Marquis deSoubise, Vicomte de Thouars, Peer of France, go to Longchamps in a_tapecul_: that bore its fruits. In this century men have a business,gamble on the Stock Exchange, win money, and are mean. They take careof and varnish their surface: they are carefully dressed, washed,soaped, shaved, combed, rubbed, brushed, and cleaned externally,irreproachable, as polished as a pebble, discreet, trim, and at thesame time,--virtue of my soul!--they have at the bottom of theirconscience dungheaps and cess-pools, at which a milkmaid who blowsher nose with her fingers would recoil. I grant the present age thismotto,--dirty cleanliness. Marius, do not be annoyed; grant me thepermission to speak, for I have been saying no harm of the people,you see. I have my mouth full of your people, but do let me give thebourgeoisie a pill. I tell you point-blank that at the present daypeople marry, but no longer know how to marry. Ah, it is true, I regretthe gentility of the old manners; I regret it all,--that elegance, thatchivalry, that courteous and dainty manner, that rejoicing luxury whichevery one possessed, the music forming part of the wedding, symphonyabove and drums beating below stairs, the joyous faces seated at table,the spicy madrigals, the songs, the fireworks, the hearty laugh, thedevil and his train, and the large ribbon bows. I regret the bride'sgarter, for it is first cousin of the girdle of Venus. On what doesthe siege of Troy turn? Parbleu! on Helen's garter. Why do men fight?Why does the divine Diomedes smash on the head of Merioneus that grandbrass helmet with the ten points? Why do Achilles and Hector tickleeach other with lances? Because Helen let Paris take her garter. WithCosette's garter Homer would write the Iliad; he would place in hispoem an old chatterer like myself, and call him Nestor. My friends, informer times, in those amiable former times, people married learnedly:they made a good contract and then a good merry-making. So soon asCujas had gone out, Gamacho came in. Hang it all! the stomach is anagreeable beast, that demands its due, and wishes to hold its weddingtoo. We supped well, and had at table a pretty neighbor without aneckerchief, who only concealed her throat moderately. Oh, the widelaughing mouths, and how gay people were in those days! Youth was abouquet, every young man finished with a branch of lilac or a posy ofroses; if he were a warrior, he was a shepherd, and if by chance hewere a captain of dragoons, he managed to call himself Florian. Allwere anxious to be pretty fellows, and they wore embroidery and rouge.A bourgeois looked like a flower, and a marquis like a precious stone.They did not wear straps, they did not wear boots; they were flashing,lustrous, gilt, light, dainty, and coquettish, but it did not preventthem wearing a sword by their side; they were humming-birds with beakand nails. It was the time of the _Indes galantes._ One of the sides ofthat age was delicate, the other magnificent; and, by the vertu-choux!people amused themselves. At the present day they are serious; thebourgeois is miserly, the bourgeoise prudish,--your age is out ofshape. The Graces would be expelled because their dresses were cut toolow in the neck. Alas! beauty is concealed as an ugliness. Since therevolution all wear trousers, even the ballet girls; a ballet girlmust be serious, and your rigadoons are doctrinaire. A man must bemajestic, and would feel very much annoyed at not having his chin inhis cravat. The idea of a scamp of twenty, who is about to marry, isto resemble Monsieur Royer-Collard. And do you know what people reachby this majesty? They are little. Learn this fact: joy is not merelyjoyous, it is grand. Be gayly in love; though, hang it all! marry, whenyou do marry, with fever and amazement and tumult, and a hurly-burlyof happiness. Gravity at church, if you will; but so soon as the massis ended, sarpejeu! you ought to make a dream whirl round your wife.A marriage ought to be royal and chimerical, and parade its ceremonyfrom the Cathedral of Rheims to the Pagoda of Chante-loup. I have ahorror of a scrubby marriage. Ventre-goulette! Be in Olympus at leastupon that day. Be gods. Ah, people might be sylphs, jests and smiles,Argyraspides, but they are scrubs! My friends, every newly-married manought to be Prince Aldobrandini. Take advantage of this unique momentof life to fly into the Empyrean with the swans and the eagles, even ifyou fall back to-morrow into the bourgeoisie of frogs. Do not save uponthe hymeneal rites; do not nibble at this splendor, nor split farthingson the day when you are radiant. A wedding is not housekeeping. Oh,if I had my way it should be a gallant affair, and violins should beheard in the trees. Here is my programme: sky-blue and silver. I wouldmingle in the fête the rustic divinities, and convene the Dryads andthe Nereids. The wedding of Amphitrite, a pink cloud, nymphs withtheir hair carefully dressed and quite nude, an academician offeringquatrains to the Deess, a car drawn by marine monsters.
'Triton trottait devant, et tirait de sa conque, Des sons si ravissants qu'il ravissait quiconque!'
There is a programme for a fête, or I'm no judge, sac à papier!"
While the grandfather, in the heat of his lyric effusion, waslistening to himself, Cosette and Marius were intoxicating themselvesby looking freely at each other. Aunt Gillenormand regarded all thiswith her imperturbable placidity; she had, during the last five orsix months, a certain amount of emotions; Marius returned, Mariusbrought back bleeding, Marius brought from a barricade, Marius dead,then living, Marius reconciled, Marius affianced, Marius marrying apoor girl, Marius marrying a millionnaire. The six hundred thousandfrancs had been her last surprise, and then the indifference of aleading communicant returned to her. She went regularly to her mass,told her beads, read her euchology, whispered in one corner of thehouse her _Aves_, while "I love you" was being whispered in another,and saw Marius and Cosette vaguely like two shadows. The shadow washerself. There is a certain state of inert asceticism in which themind, neutralized by torpor, and a stranger to what might be calledthe business of living, does not perceive, with the exception ofearthquakes and catastrophes, any human impressions, either pleasantor painful. "This devotion," Father Gillenormand would say to hisdaughter, "resembles a cold in the head; you smell nothing of life,neither a good odor nor a bad one." However, the six hundred thousandfrancs had settled the old maid's indecision. Her father was accustomedto take her so little into account that he had not consulted her as tothe consent to Marius's marriage. He had acted impetuously, accordingto his wont, having, as a despot who had become a slave, but onethought, that of satisfying Marius. As for the aunt, he had scarceremembered that the aunt existed, and that she might have an opinionof her own, and, sheep though she was, this had offended her. Somewhatroused internally, but externally impassive, she said to herself, "Myfather settles the marriage question without me, and I will settle thequestion of the inheritance without him." She was rich, in fact, andher father was not so, and it is probable that if the marriage hadbeen poor she would have left it poor. "All the worse for my nephew!If he chose to marry a beggar, he may be a beggar too." But Cosette'shalf a million of francs pleased the aunt and changed her feelingswith respect to the loving couple; consideration is due to six hundredthousand francs, and it was evident that she could not do otherwisethan leave her fortune to these young people, because they no longerrequired it.
It was arranged that the couple should reside at M. Gillenormand's,and the grandfather insisted on giving them his bed-room, the finestroom in the house. "It will make me younger," he declared. "It is anold place. I always had the idea that the wedding should take placein my room." He furnished this room with a heap of old articles ofgallantry; he had it hung with an extraordinary fabric which he hadin the piece, and believed to be Utrecht, a gold satin ground withvelvet auriculas. "It was with that stuff," he said, "that the bedof the Duchess d'Anville à la Rocheguyon was hung." He placed on themantel-piece a figure in Saxon porcelain carrying a muff on its nakedstomach. M. Gillenormand's library became the office which Mariusrequired; for an office, it will be borne in mind, is insisted upon bythe council of the order.
