by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER II.
HOW "JEAN" MAY BECOME "CHAMP."
One morning M. Madeleine was in his study, engaged in settling somepressing mayoralty matters, in case he decided on the journey toMontfermeil, when he was told that Inspector Javert wished to speakwith him. On hearing this name pronounced, M. Madeleine could notrefrain from a disagreeable impression. Since the guard-room adventureJavert had avoided him more than ever, and M. Madeleine had not seenhim again.
"Show him in," he said.
Javert entered. M. Madeleine remained at his table near the fire-placewith a pen in his hand and his eyes fixed on a bundle of papers,which he ran through and annotated. He did not put himself out ofthe way for Javert, for he could not refrain from thinking of poorFantine. Javert bowed respectfully to the Mayor, who had his backturned to him; the Mayor did not look at him, but continued to makehis notes. Javert walked a little way into the study, and then haltedwithout a word. A physiognomist familiar with Javert's nature, andwho had studied for any length of time this savage in the service ofcivilization,--this strange composite of the Roman, the Spartan, themonk, and the corporal, this spy incapable of falsehood, this virgindetective,--a physiognomist aware of his secret and old aversion to M.Madeleine, and his conflict with him about Fantine, and who regardedJavert at this moment, would have asked himself, What has happened? Itwas evident to any one who knew this upright, clear, sincere, honest,austere, and ferocious conscience, that Javert had just emerged fromsome great internal struggle. Javert had nothing in his mind whichhe did not also have in his face, and, like all violent men, he wassubject to sudden changes. Never had his face been stranger or moresurprising. On entering, he bowed to M. Madeleine with a look in whichthere was neither rancor, anger, nor suspicion; he had halted a fewyards behind the Mayor's chair, and was now standing there in an almostmilitary attitude, with the simple cold rudeness of a man who has neverbeen gentle and has ever been patient. He was waiting, without sayinga word, without making a movement, in a true humility and tranquilresignation, till the Mayor might think proper to turn round,--calm,serious, hat in hand, and with an expression which was half-way betweenthe private before his officer and the culprit before the judge. Allthe feelings as well as all the resolutions he might be supposed topossess had disappeared: there was nothing but a gloomy sadness onthis face, which was impenetrable and simple as granite. His wholeperson displayed humiliation and firmness, and a sort of courageousdespondency. At length the Mayor laid down his pen and half turnedround.
"Well, what is the matter, Javert?"
Javert remained silent for a moment, as if reflecting, and then raisedhis voice with a sad solemnity, which, however, did not excludesimplicity.
"A culpable deed has been committed, sir."
"What deed?"
"An inferior agent of authority has failed in his respect to amagistrate in the gravest matter. I have come, as is my duty, to bringthe fact to your knowledge."
"Who is this agent?" M. Madeleine asked
"Myself."
"And who is the magistrate who has cause to complain of the agent?"
"You, Monsieur le Maire."
M. Madeleine sat up, and Javert continued with a stern air and stilllooking down,--
"Monsieur le Maire, I have come to request that you will procure mydismissal from the service."
M. Madeleine in his stupefaction opened his mouth, but Javertinterrupted him,--
"You will say that I could have sent in my resignation, but that is notenough. Such a course is honorable, but I have done wrong, and deservepunishment. I must be dismissed."
And after a pause he added,--
"Monsieur le Maire, you were severe to me the other day unjustly, be soto-day justly."
"What is the meaning of all this nonsense?" M. Madeleine exclaimed."What is the culpable act you have committed? What have you done to me?You accuse yourself, you wish to be removed--"
"Dismissed," said Javert.
"Very good, dismissed. I do not understand it."
"You shall do so, sir."
Javert heaved a deep sigh, and continued still coldly and sadly,--
"Six weeks ago, M. le Maire, after the scene about that girl, I wasfurious, and denounced you."
"Denounced me?"
"To the Prefect of Police at Paris."
M. Madeleine, who did not laugh much oftener than Javert, burst into alaugh.
"As a Mayor who had encroached on the police?"
"As an ex-galley slave."
The Mayor turned livid, but Javert, who had not raised his eyes,continued,--
"I thought you were so, and have had these notions for a long time. Aresemblance, information you sought at Faverolles, the strength of yourloins, the adventures with old Fauchelevent, your skill in firing, yourleg which halts a little--and so on. It was very absurd, but I took youfor a man of the name of Jean Valjean."
"What name did you say?"
"Jean Valjean; he is a convict I saw twenty years ago when I wasassistant keeper at the Toulon bagne. On leaving the galley, thisValjean, as it appears, robbed a bishop, and then committed a highwayrobbery on a little Savoyard. For eight years he has been out of theway and could not be found, and I imagined--in a word, I did as I said.Passion decided me, and I denounced you to the Prefect."
M. Madeleine, who had taken up the charge-book again, said with acareless accent,--
"And what was the answer you received?"
"That I was mad!"
"Well?"
"They were right."
"It is fortunate that you allow it."
"I must do so, for the real Jean Valjean has been found."
The book M. Madeleine was holding fell from his grasp, he raised hishead, looked searchingly at Javert, said with an indescribable accent,--
"Ah!"
Javert continued,--
"The facts are these, M. le Maire. It seems that there was overat Ailly le Haut Clocher, an old fellow who was called FatherChampmathieu. He was very wretched, and no attention was paid to him,for no one knows how such people live. This autumn Father Champmathieuwas arrested for stealing cider apples: there was a robbery, a wallclimbed over, and branches broken. This Champmathieu was arrested withthe branch still in his hand, and was locked up. Up to this point it isonly a matter for a police court, but here Providence interposes. Asthe lock-up was under repair, the magistrates ordered that Champmathieushould be taken to the departmental prison at Arras. In this prisonthere is an ex-convict of the name of Brevet, under imprisonment forsome offence, and he has been made room-turnkey for his good behavior.Champmathieu no sooner arrived than Brevet cries out, "Why, I knowthis man: he is an ex-convict. Look at me, old fellow: you are JeanValjean." "What do you mean?" says Champmathieu, affecting surprise."Don't play the humbug with me," says Brevet; "you are Jean Valjean.You were at the Toulon bagne twenty years ago, and I was there too."Champmathieu denied identity, and, as you may suppose, the affair wasthoroughly investigated, with the following result. This Champmathieuabout thirty years ago was a journeyman wood-cutter at several places,especially at Faverolles, where his trail is lost. A long time afterhe is found again in Auvergne, and then in Paris, where he says he wasa blacksmith, and had a daughter a washer-woman,--though there is noevidence of this,--and lastly, he turned up in these parts. Now, beforebeing sent to the galleys, what was Jean Valjean? A wood-cutter. Where?At Faverolles. And here is another fact: this Valjean's Christian namewas Jean, and his mother's family name Mathieu. What is more naturalto suppose than that on leaving the bagne he assumed his mother's nameas a disguise, and called himself Jean Mathieu? He went to Auvergne,where Jean is pronounced Chan, and thus he was transformed intoChampmathieu. You are following me, I suppose? Inquiries have been madeat Faverolles, but Jean Valjean's family is no longer there, and no oneknows where it has gone. As you are aware, in those places familiesfrequently disappear in such a way; these people, if they are not mud,are dust. And then, again, as the beginning of this story dates backthirty years, there
is no one in Faverolles who knew Jean Valjean: andbeside Brevet, there are only two convicts who remember him. Thesetwo were brought from the bagne and confronted with the pretendedChampmathieu, and they did not hesitate for a moment. The same age,--fifty-four,--the same height, the same look, the same man, in short. Itwas at this very moment that I sent my denunciation to Paris, and theanswer I received was that I had lost my senses, for Jean Valjean wasin the hands of justice at Arras. You can conceive that this surprisedme, as I fancied that I held my Jean Valjean here. I wrote to themagistrates, who sent for me, and Champmathieu was brought in."
"Well?" M. Madeleine interrupted him.
Javert answered with his incorruptible and sad face,--
"Monsieur le Maire, truth is truth: I am sorry, but that man is JeanValjean: I recognized him too."
M. Madeleine said in a very low voice,--
"Are you sure?"
Javert burst into that sorrowful laugh which escapes from a profoundconviction,--
"Oh! certain."
He stood for a moment pensive, mechanically taking pinches of saw-dustout of the sprinkler in the inkstand, and added,--
"And now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean, I cannot understandhow I could have believed anything else. I ask your pardon, M. leMaire."
While addressing these supplicating words to the person who six weekspreviously had humiliated him so deeply and bidden him leave the room,this haughty man was unconsciously full of dignity and simplicity. M.Madeleine merely answered his entreaty with the hurried question,--
"And what does this man say?"
"Well, Monsieur le Maire, it is an ugly business, for if he is JeanValjean, he is an escaped convict. Scaling a wall, breaking a branch,and stealing apples is a peccadillo with a child, an offence in a man,but a crime in a convict. It is no longer a matter for the policecourts, but for the assizes; it is no longer imprisonment for a fewdays, but the galleys for life. And there is the matter with theSavoyard, which, I trust, will be brought up again. There is enough tosettle a man, is there not? But Jean Valjean is artful, and in that Irecognize him too. Any other man would find it warm; he would struggle,cry out, refuse to be Jean Valjean, and so on. He pretends though notto understand, and says, "I am Champmathieu, and I shall stick to it."He has a look of amazement, and plays the brute-beast, which is better.Oh! he is a clever scoundrel! But no matter, the proofs are ready tohand; he has been recognized by four persons, and the old scoundrelwill be found guilty. He is to be tried at Arras assizes, and I havebeen summoned as a witness."
M. Madeleine had turned round to his desk again, taken up his papers,and was quietly turning over the leaves, and busily reading and writingin turn. He now said to the Inspector,--
"Enough, Javert; after all, these details interest me but veryslightly; we are losing our time, and have a deal of work before us.Javert, you will go at one to Mother Busaupied, who sells vegetables atthe corner of the Rue St. Saulve, and tell her to take out a summonsagainst Pierre the carter; he is a brutal fellow, who almost drove overthis woman and her child, and he must be punished. You will then go toM. Charcillay in the Rue Champigny; he complains that there is a gutternext door which leaks, and is shaking the foundation of his house. ButI am giving you a deal to do, and I think you said you were going away.Did you not state you were going to Arras on this matter in a week orten days?"
"Sooner than that, sir."
"On what day, then?"
"I fancied I told you that the trial comes off to-morrow, and that Ishould start by to-night's coach."
"And how long will the trial last?"
"A day at the most, and sentence will be passed to-morrow night at thelatest. But I shall not wait for that, but return so soon as I havegiven my evidence."
"Very good," said M. Madeleine; and he dismissed Javert with a wave ofhis hand. But he did not go.
"I beg your pardon, M. le Maire," he said.
"What's the matter now?" M. Madeleine asked.
"I have one thing to remind you of, sir."
"What is it?"
"That I must be discharged."
M. Madeleine rose.
"Javert, you are a man of honor, and I esteem you; you exaggerate yourfault, and besides, it is another insult which concerns me. Javert, youare worthy of rising, not of sinking, and I insist on your keeping yoursituation."
Javert looked at M. Madeleine with his bright eyes, in which it seemedas if his unenlightened but rigid and chaste conscience could be seen,and he said quietly,--
"M. le Maire, I cannot allow it."
"I repeat," M. Madeleine replied, "that the affair concerns myself."
But Javert, only attending to his own thoughts, continued,--
"As for exaggerating, I am not doing so, for this is how I reason. Isuspected you unjustly; that is nothing: it is the duty of men likemyself to suspect, though there is an abuse in suspecting those aboveus. But, without proofs, in a moment of passion and for the purpose ofrevenge, I denounced you, a respectable man, a mayor and a magistrate;this is serious, very serious,--I, an agent of the authority, insultedthat authority in your person. Had any of my subordinates done whatI have done, I should have declared him unworthy of the service anddischarged him. Stay, Monsieur le Maire, one word more. I have oftenbeen severe in my life to others, for it was just, and I was doing myduty, and if I were not severe to myself now, all the justice I havedone would become injustice. Ought I to spare myself more than others?No. What! I have been only good to punish others and not myself? Why,I should be a scoundrel, and the people who call me that rogue of aJavert, would be in the right! M. le Maire, I do not wish you to treatme with kindness, for your kindness caused me sufficient ill-blood whendealt to others, and I want none for myself. The kindness that consistsin defending the street-walker against the gentleman, the police agentagainst the Mayor, the lower classes against the higher, is what I callbad kindness, and it is such kindness that disorganizes society. GoodLord! it is easy enough to be good, but the difficulty is to be just.Come! if you had been what I believed you, I should not have been kindto you, as you would have seen. M. le Maire, I am bound to treat myselfas I would treat another man; when I repressed malefactors, when I wassevere with scamps, I often said to myself, "If you ever catch yourselftripping, look out," I have tripped, I have committed a fault, andall the worse for me. I have strong arms and will turn laborer. M. leMaire, the good of the service requires an example. I simply demand thedischarge of Inspector Javert."
All this was said with a humble, proud, despairing, and convincedaccent, which gave a peculiar grandeur to this strangely honest man.
"We will see," said M. Madeleine, and he offered him his hand; butJavert fell back, and said sternly,--
"Pardon me, sir, but that must not be; a mayor ought not to give hishand to a spy."
He added between his teeth,--
"Yes, a spy; from the moment when I misused my authority, I have beenonly a spy."
Then he bowed deeply and walked to the door. When he reached it heturned round and said, with eyes still bent on the ground,--
"M. le Maire, I will continue on duty till my place is filled up."
He went out. M. Madeleine thoughtfully listened to his firm, sure stepas he walked along the paved passage.
BOOK VII
THE CHAMPMATHIEU AFFAIR.
