Les Misérables, v. 5/5: Jean Valjean

by Victor Hugo

  CHAPTER II.

  JEAN VALJEAN STILL HAS HIS ARM IN A SLING.

  To realize one's dream--to whom is this granted? There must beelections for this in heaven; we are the unconscious candidates, andthe angels vote. Cosette and Marius had been elected. Cosette, both atthe mayoralty and at church, was brilliant and touching. Toussaint,helped by Nicolette, had dressed her. Cosette wore over a skirt ofwhite taffetas her dress of Binche lace, a veil of English point, anecklace of fine pearls, and a crown of orange-flowers; all this waswhite, and in this whiteness she was radiant. It was an exquisitecandor expanding and becoming transfigured in light; she looked likea virgin on the point of becoming a goddess. Marius's fine hair wasshining and perfumed, and here and there a glimpse could be caught,under the thick curls, of pale lines, which were the scars of thebarricade. The grandfather, superb, with head erect, amalgamating inhis toilette and manners all the elegances of the time of Barras, gavehis arm to Cosette. He took the place of Jean Valjean, who, owing tohis wound, could not give his hand to the bride. Jean Valjean, dressedall in black, followed and smiled.

  "Monsieur Fauchelevent," the grandfather said to him, "this is aglorious day, and I vote the end of afflictions and cares. Henceforththere must be no sorrow anywhere. By Heaven! I decree joy! misfortunehas no right to exist, and it is a disgrace for the azure of heaventhat there are unfortunate men. Evil does not come from man, who, atthe bottom, is good; but all human miseries have their capital andcentral government in hell, otherwise called the Tuileries of thedevil. There, I am making demagogic remarks at present! For my part Ihave no political opinions left; and all I stick to is that men shouldbe rich, that is to say, joyous."

  When, at the end of all the ceremonies,--after pronouncing before themayor and before the priest every yes that is possible, after signingthe register at the municipality and in the sacristy, after exchangingrings, after kneeling side by side under the canopy of white moire inthe smoke of the censer,--they arrived holding each other by the hand,admired and envied by all. Marius in black, she in white, preceded bythe beadle in the colonel's epaulettes, striking the flag-stones withhis halbert, between two rows of dazzled spectators, at the churchdoors which were thrown wide open, ready to get into their carriage,--and then all was over. Cosette could not yet believe it. She lookedat Marius, she looked at the crowd, she looked at heaven; it seemedas if she were afraid of awaking. Her astonished and anxious airimparted something strangely enchanting to her. In returning theyboth rode in the same carriage, Marius seated by Cosette's side,and M. Gillenormand and Jean Valjean forming their vis-à-vis. AuntGillenormand had fallen back a step and was in the second carriage. "Mychildren," the grandfather said, "you are now M. le Baron and Madamela Baronne with thirty thousand francs a year." And Cosette, nuzzlingagainst Marius, caressed his ear with the angelic whisper, "It istrue, then, my name is Marius and I am Madame Thou." These two beingswere resplendent; they had reached the irrevocable and irrecoverablemoment, the dazzling point of intersection of all youth and all joy.They realized Jean Prouvaire's line; together they did not numberforty years. It was marriage sublimated, and these two children weretwo lilies. They did not see each other, but contemplated each other.Cosette perceived Marius in a glory, and Marius perceived Cosette uponan altar. And upon this altar, and in this glory, the two apotheosesblending behind a cloud for Cosette and a flashing for Marius, therewas the ideal thing, the real thing, the meeting-place of kisses and ofsleep, the nuptial pillow.

  All the torments they had gone through returned to them inintoxication; it appeared to them as if the griefs, the sleeplessness,the tears, the anguish, the terrors, and the despair, by beingconverted into caresses and sunbeams, rendered more charming still thecharming hour which was approaching; and that their sorrows were somany handmaidens who performed the toilette of joy. How good it is tohave suffered! Their misfortunes made a halo for their happiness, andthe long agony of their love ended in an ascension. There was in thesetwo souls the same enchantment, tinged with voluptuousness in Mariusand with modesty in Cosette. They said to each other in a whisper,"We will go and see again our little garden in the Rue Plumet." Thefolds of Cosette's dress were upon Marius. Such a day is an ineffableblending of dream and certainty: you possess and you suppose, and youstill have time before you to divine. It is an indescribable emotionon that day to be at midday and think of midnight. The delight ofthese two hearts overflowed upon the crowd, and imparted merriment tothe passers-by. People stopped in the Rue St. Antoine, in front ofSt. Paul's, to look through the carriage-window,--the orange flowerstrembling on Cosette's head. Then they returned to the Rue des Fillesdu Calvaire,--home. Marius, side by side with Cosette, ascended,triumphantly and radiantly, that staircase up which he had beendragged in a dying state. The beggars, collected before the gate anddividing the contents of their purses, blessed them. There were flowerseverywhere, and the house was no less fragrant than the church: afterthe incense the rose. They fancied they could hear voices singing ininfinitude; they had God in their hearts; destiny appeared to them likea ceiling of stars; they saw above their heads the flashing of therising sun. Marius gazed at Cosette's charming bare arm and the pinkthings which could be vaguely seen through the lace of the stomacher,and Cosette, catching Marius's glance, blushed to the white of hereyes. A good many old friends of the Gillenormand family had beeninvited, and they thronged round Cosette, outvying one another incalling her Madame la Baronne. The officer, Théodule Gillenormand, nowcaptain, had come from Chartres, where he was stationed, to be presentat his cousin's marriage: Cosette did not recognize him. He, on hisside, accustomed to be thought a pretty fellow by the women, rememberedCosette no more than any other.

  "How right I was in not believing that story of the lancer!" FatherGillenormand said to himself aside.

  Cosette had never been more affectionate to Jean Valjean, and she wasin unison with Father Gillenormand; while he built up joy in aphorismsand maxims, she exhaled love and beauty like a perfume. Happinesswishes everybody to be happy. She found again in speaking to JeanValjean inflections of her voice of the time when she was a littlegirl, and caressed him with a smile. A banquet had been prepared inthe dining-room; an illumination _à giorno_ is the necessary seasoningof a great joy, and mist and darkness are not accepted by the happy.They do not consent to be black: night, yes; darkness, no; and ifthere be no sun, one must be made. The dining-room was a furnace ofgay things; in the centre, above the white glistening tables, hung aVenetian chandelier, with all sorts of colored birds, blue, violet,red, and green, perched among the candles; round the chandelierwere girandoles, and on the walls were mirrors with three and fourbranches; glasses, crystal, plate, china, crockery, gold, and silver,all flashed and rejoiced. The spaces between the candelabra werefilled up with bouquets, so that where there was not a light therewas a flower. In the anteroom three violins and a flute played someof Haydn's quartettes. Jean Valjean had seated himself on a chair inthe drawing-room, behind the door, which, being thrown back, almostconcealed him. A few minutes before they sat down to table Cosette gavehim a deep courtesy, while spreading out her wedding-dress with bothhands, and with a tenderly mocking look asked him,--

  "Father, are you satisfied?"

  "Yes," said Jean Valjean, "I am satisfied."

  "Well, then, laugh."

  Jean Valjean began laughing. A few minutes later Basque came in toannounce that dinner was on the table. The guests, preceded by M.Gillenormand, who gave his arm to Cosette, entered the dining-room, andcollected round the table in the prescribed order. There was a largeeasy-chair on either side of the bride, one for M. Gillenormand, theother for Jean Valjean. M. Gillenormand seated himself, but the otherchair remained empty. All looked round for Monsieur Fauchelevent, buthe was no longer there, and M. Gillenormand hailed Basque:

  "Do you know where M. Fauchelevent is?"

  "Yes, sir, I do," Basque replied. "Monsieur Fauchelevent requestedme to tell you, sir, that his hand pained him, and that he could notdine with M. le Baron and Ma
dame la Baronne. He therefore begged to beexcused, but would call to-morrow. He has just left."

  This empty chair momentarily chilled the effusion of the wedding feast;but though M. Fauchelevent was absent M. Gillenormand was there,and the grandfather shone for two. He declared that M. Faucheleventacted rightly in going to bed early if he were in pain, but that itwas only a small hurt. This declaration was sufficient; besides, whatis a dark corner in such a submersion of joy? Cosette and Marius werein one of those egotistic and blessed moments when people possess noother faculty than that of perceiving joy; and then M. Gillenormandhad an idea, "By Jupiter! this chair is empty; come hither, Marius;your aunt, though she has a right to it, will permit you; this chairis for you; it is legal, and it is pretty,--Fortunatus by the sideof Fortunata." The whole of the guests applauded. Marius took JeanValjean's place by Cosette's side, and things were so arranged thatCosette, who had at first been saddened by the absence of Jean Valjean,ended by being pleased at it. From the moment when Marius was thesubstitute, Cosette would not have regretted God. She placed her littlewhite-satin-slippered foot upon Marius's foot. When the easy-chairwas occuppied, M. Fauchelevent was effaced, and nothing was wanting.Five minutes later all the guests were laughing from one end of thetable to the other, with all the forgetfulness of humor. At dessert M.Gillenormand rose, with a glass of champagne in his hand, only halffull, so that the trembling of ninety-two years might not upset it, andproposed the health of the new-married couple.

  "You will not escape from two sermons," he exclaimed: "this morningyou had the curé's, and this evening you will have grandpapa's. Listento me, for I am going to give you some advice: Adore each other. I donot beat round the bush, but go straight to the point; be happy. Thereare no other sages in creation but the turtle-doves. Philosophers say,Moderate your joys; but I say, Throw the bridle on the neck of yourjoys. Love like fiends, be furious. The philosophers babble, and Ishould like to thrust their philosophy down their throats for them. Canwe have too many perfumes, too many open rose-buds, too many singingnightingales, too many green leaves, and too much dawn in life? Can welove too much? Can we please one another too much? Take care, Estelle,you are too pretty! Take care, Némorin, you are too handsome! Whatjolly nonsense! Can people enchant each other, tease each other, andcharm each other too much? Can they be too loving? Can they be toohappy? Moderate your joys,--oh, stuff! Down with the philosophers, forwisdom is jubilation. Do you jubilate? Let us jubilate; are we happybecause we are good, or are we good because we are happy? Is the Sancydiamond called the Sancy because it belonged to Harlay de Sancy, orbecause it weighs one hundred and six carats? I do not know; and lifeis full of such problems: the important thing is to have the Sancy andhappiness. Let us be happy without quibbling. Let us blindly obey thesun. What is the sun? It is love; and when I say love, I mean woman.Ah, ah! woman is an omnipotence. Ask that demagogue, Marius, if heis not the slave of that little she-tyrant, Cosette, and willinglyso, the coward? Woman! There is not a Robespierre who can stand; butwoman reigns. I am now only a royalist of that royalty. What is Adam?The royalty of Eve. There is no '89 for Eve. There was the royalsceptre surmounted by the fleur-de-lys, there was the imperial sceptresurmounted by a globe, there was Charlemagne's sceptre of iron, and thesceptre of Louis the Great, which was of gold. The Revolution twistedthem between its thumb and forefinger like straws. It is finished, itis broken, it lies on the ground,--there is no sceptre left. But justmake a revolution against that little embroidered handkerchief whichsmells of patchouli! I should like to see you at it. Try it. Why is itsolid? Because it is a rag. Ah! you are the nineteenth century. Well,what then? We were the eighteenth, and were as foolish as you. Do notsuppose that you have made any tremendous change in the world becauseyour gallant-trusser is called cholera-morbus, and your bourrée thecachucha. After all, woman must always be loved, and I defy you toget out of that. These she-devils are our angels. Yes, love, woman,and a kiss form a circle from which I defy you to issue, and for myown part I should be very glad to enter it again. Who among you hasseen the star Venus, the great coquette of the abyss, the Celimène ofocean, rise in infinite space, appeasing everything below her, andlooking at the waves like a woman? The ocean is a rude Alcestis; andyet, however much he may growl, when Venus appears he is forced tosmile. That brute-beast submits, and we are all thus. Anger, tempest,thunder-bolts, foam up to the ceiling. A woman comes upon the stage,a star rises, and you crawl in the dust. Marius was fighting sixmonths ago, and is marrying to-day, and that is well done. Yes, Marius,yes, Cosette, you are right. Exist bravely one for the other, make usburst with rage because we cannot do the same, and idolize each other.Take in both your beaks the little straws of felicity which lie onthe ground, and make of them a nest for life. By Jove! to love, to beloved,--what a great miracle when a man is young! Do not suppose thatyou invented it. I too have dreamed, and thought, and sighed. I toohave had a moonlit soul. Love is a child six thousand years of age, andhas a right to a long white beard. Methuselah is a baby by the sideof Cupid. Sixty centuries back man and woman got out of the scrape byloving. The devil, who is cunning, took to hating man; but man, who ismore cunning still, took to loving woman. In this way he did himselfmore good than the devil did him harm. That trick was discoveredsimultaneously with the terrestrial paradise. My friends, the inventionis old, but it is brand new. Take advantage of it; be Daphnis and Chloewhile waiting till you are Baucis and Philemon. Manage so that whenyou are together you may want for nothing, and that Cosette may be thesun for Marius, and Marius the universe for Cosette. Cosette, let yourfine weather be your husband's smiles. Marius, let your wife's tearsbe the rain, and mind that it never does rain in your household. Youhave drawn the good number in the lottery, love in the sacrament. Youhave the prize number, so keep it carefully under lock and key. Do notsquander it. Adore each other, and a fig for the rest. Believe what Itell you, then, for it is good sense, and good sense cannot deceive. Beto one another a religion, for each man has his own way of adoring God.Saperlotte! the best way of adoring God is to love one's wife. I loveyou! that is my catechism; and whoever loves is orthodox. The oath ofHenri IV. places sanctity between guttling and intoxication. _VentreSaint Gris!_ I do not belong to the religion of that oath, for womanis forgotten in it, and that surprises me on the part of Henri IV.'soath. My friends, long live woman! I am old, so people say; but it isamazing how disposed I feel to be young. I should like to go and listento the bagpipes in the woods. These children, who succeed in beingbeautiful and satisfied, intoxicate me. I am quite willing to marry ifanybody will have me. It is impossible to imagine that God has made usfor anything else than this,--to idolize, to purr, to strut, to be apigeon, to be a cock, to caress our lovers from morning till night, toadmire ourselves in our little wife, to be proud, to be triumphant, andto swell. Such is the object of life. That, without offence, is what wethought in our time, when we were young men. Ah! vertu-bamboche! whatcharming women there were in those days! what ducks! I made my ravagesamong them. Then love each other. If men and women did not love, Ireally do not see what use there would be in having a spring. And formy part, I would pray the good God to lock up all the fine things heshows us and take them back from us, and to return to his box theflowers, the birds, and the pretty girls. My children, receive an oldman's blessing."

  The evening was lively, gay, and pleasant; the sovereign good-humorof the grandfather gave the tone to the whole festivity, and each wasregulated by this almost centenary heartiness. There was a littledancing and a good deal of laughter; it was a merry wedding, to whichthat worthy old fellow "Once on a time" might have been invited;however, he was present in the person of Father Gillenormand. Therewas a tumult and then a silence; the married couple disappeared. Alittle after midnight the Gillenormand mansion became a temple. Herewe stop, for an angel stands on the threshold of wedding-nights,smiling, and with finger on lip; the mind becomes contemplative beforethis sanctuary in which the celebration of love is held. There mustbe rays of light above such houses, and the
joy which they containmust pass through the walls in brilliancy, and vaguely irradiate thedarkness. It is impossible for this sacred and fatal festival not tosend a celestial radiance to infinitude. Love is the sublime cruciblein which the fusion of man and woman takes place; the one being, thetriple being, the final being, the human trinity issue from it. Thisbirth of two souls in one must have emotion for the shadows. The loveris the priest, and the transported virgin feels an awe. A portion ofthis joy ascends to God. When there is really marriage, that is to say,when there is love, the ideal is mingled with it, and a nuptial couchforms in the darkness a corner of the dawn. If it was given to themental eye to perceive the formidable and charming visions of higherlife, it is probable that it would see the forms of night, the unknownwinged beings, the blue wayfarers of the invisible, bending down roundthe luminous house, satisfied and blessing, pointing out to each otherthe virgin bride, who is gently startled, and having the reflection ofhuman felicity on their divine countenances. If, at this supreme hour,the pair, dazzled with pleasure, and who believe themselves alone,were to listen, they would hear in their chamber a confused rustlingof wings, for perfect happiness implies the guarantee of angels. Thislittle obscure alcove has an entire heaven for its ceiling. When twomouths, which have become sacred by love, approach each other in orderto create, it is impossible but that there is a tremor in the immensemystery of the stars above this ineffable kiss. These felicitiesare the real ones, there is no joy beyond their joys; love is thesole ecstasy, and all the rest weeps. To love or to have loved issufficient; ask nothing more after that. There is no other pearl to befound in the dark folds of life, for love is a consummation.