by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER XI
CHAMPMATHIEU IS ASTOUNDED.
It was he in truth; the clerk's lamp lit up his face; he held his hatin his hand, there was no disorder in his attire, and his coat wascarefully buttoned. He was very pale and trembled slightly; and hishair, which had been gray when he arrived at Arras, was now perfectlywhite; it had turned so during the hour he had passed in the court.Every head was raised, the sensation was indescribable, and there wasa momentary hesitation among the spectators. The voice had been sopoignant, the man standing there seemed so calm, that at first theydid not understand, and asked each other who it was that had spoken.They could not believe that this tranquil man could have utteredthat terrific cry. This indecision lasted but a few moments. Beforethe President and the public prosecutor could say a word, before thegendarmes and ushers could make a move, the man, whom all still calledat this moment M. Madeleine, had walked up to the witnesses, Brevet,Chenildieu, and Cochepaille.
"Do you not recognize me?" he asked them.
All three stood amazed, and gave a nod to show that they did not knowhim, and Cochepaille, who was intimidated, gave a military salute.M. Madeleine turned to the jury and the court, and said in a gentlevoice,--
"Gentlemen of the jury, acquit the prisoner. Monsieur le President,have me arrested. The man you are seeking is not he, for--I am JeanValjean."
Not a breath was drawn,--the first commotion of astonishment hadbeen succeeded by a sepulchral silence; all felt that species ofreligious terror which seizes on a crowd when something grand is beingaccomplished. The President's face, however, displayed sympathy andsorrow; he exchanged a rapid look with the public prosecutor, and a fewwords in a low voice with the assistant judges. He then turned to thespectators, and asked with an accent which all understood,--
"Is there a medical man present?"
The public prosecutor then said,--
"Gentlemen of the jury, the strange and unexpected incident which hasdisturbed the trial inspires us, as it does yourselves, with a feelingwhich we need not express. You all know, at least by reputation, theworthy M. Madeleine, Mayor of M----.
If there be a medical man here, we join with the President in begginghim to attend to M. Madeleine and remove him to his house."
M. Madeleine did not allow the public prosecutor to conclude, butinterrupted him with an accent full of gentleness and authority. Theseare the words he spoke; we produce them literally as they were writtendown by one of the witnesses of this scene, and as they still live inthe ears of those who heard them just forty years ago:--
"I thank you, sir, but I am not mad, as you will soon see. You were onthe point of committing a great error; set that man at liberty: I amaccomplishing a duty, for I am the hapless convict. I am the only manwho sees clearly here, and I am telling you the truth. What I am doingat this moment God above is looking at, and that is sufficient for me.You can seize me, for here I am; and yet I did my best. I hid myselfunder a name, I became rich, I became Mayor, and I wished to get backamong honest men, but it seems that this is impossible. There are manythings I cannot tell you, as I am not going to describe my life to you,for one day it will be known. It is true that I robbed the Bishop; alsotrue that I robbed Little Gervais, and they were right in telling youthat Jean Valjean was a dangerous villain,--though, perhaps, all thefault did not lie with him. Listen, gentlemen of the court. A man sodebased as myself cannot remonstrate with Providence, or give advice tosociety; but I will say that the infamy from which I sought to emergeis an injurious thing, and the galleys make the convict. Be good enoughto bear that fact in mind. Before I went to Toulon I was a poor peasantwith but little intelligence, a sort of idiot; the galleys changed me:I was stupid, and I became wicked; I was a log, and I became a brand.At a later date indulgence and goodness saved me, in the same way asseverity had destroyed me. But, forgive me, you cannot understand whatI am saying. At my house the two-franc piece I stole seven years agofrom Little Gervais will be found among the ashes in the fire-place. Ihave nothing more to add. Apprehend me. My God! the public prosecutorshakes his head. You say M. Madeleine has gone mad, and do not believeme. This is afflicting; at least do not condemn this man. What! thesethree do not recognize me! Oh, I wish that Javert were here, for hewould recognize me!"
No pen could render the benevolent and sombre melancholy of the accentwhich accompanied these words. He then turned to the three convicts,--
"Well, I recognize you. Brevet, do you not remember me?" He broke off,hesitated for a moment, and said,--
"Can you call to mind the checkered braces you used to wear at thegalleys?"
Brevet gave a start of surprise and looked at him from head to foot interror. He continued,--
"Chenildieu, who named yourself Je-nie-Dieu, you have a deep burn inyour right shoulder, because you placed it one day in a pan of charcoalin order to efface the three letters, T. F. P., which, however, arestill visible. Answer me--is it so?"
"It is true," said Chenildieu.
"Cochepaille, you have near the hollow of your left arm a date made inblue letters with burnt gun-powder; the date is that of the Emperor'slanding at Cannes, March I, 1815. Turn up your sleeve."
Cochepaille did so, and every eye was turned to his bare arm; agendarme brought up a lamp, and the date was there. The unhappy manturned to the audience and the judges, with a smile which to this dayaffects those who saw it. It was the smile of triumph, but it was alsothe smile of despair.
"You see plainly," he said, "that I am Jean Valjean."
In the hall there were now neither judges, accusers, nor gendarmes;there were only fixed eyes and heaving hearts. No one thought of thepart he might be called on to perform,--the public prosecutor thathe was there to prove a charge, the President to pass sentence, andthe prisoner's counsel to defend. It was a striking thing that noquestion was asked, no authority interfered. It is the property ofsublime spectacles to seize on all minds and make spectators of allthe witnesses. No one perhaps accounted for his feelings, no one saidto himself that he saw a great light shining, but all felt dazzled intheir hearts. It was evident that they had Jean Valjean before them.The appearance, of this man had been sufficient to throw a bright lighton an affair which was so obscure a moment previously: without needingany explanation, the entire crowd understood, as if through a sort ofelectric revelation, at once and at a glance the simple and magnificentstory of a man who denounced himself in order that another man mightnot be condemned in his place. Details, hesitation, any possibleresistance, were lost in this vast luminous fact. It was an impressionwhich quickly passed away, but at the moment was irresistible.
"I will not occupy the time of the court longer," Jean Valjeancontinued; "I shall go away, as I am not arrested, for I have severalthings to do. The public prosecutor knows who I am, he knows where I amgoing, and he will order me to be arrested when he thinks proper."
He walked towards the door, and not a voice was raised, not an armstretched forth to prevent him. All fell back, for there was somethingdivine in this incident, which causes the multitude to recoil and makeway for a single man. He slowly walked on; it was never known whoopened the door, but it is certain that he found it opened when hereached it. When there, he turned and said,--
"I am at your orders, sir."
Then he addressed the audience.
"I presume that all of you consider me worthy of pity? Great God! whenI think of what I was on the point of doing, I consider myself worthyof envy. Still, I should have preferred that all this had not takenplace."
He went out, and the door was closed as it had been opened, for menwho do certain superior deeds are always sure of being served by someone in the crowd. Less than an hour after, the verdict of the juryacquitted Champmathieu, and Champmathieu, who was at once set atliberty, went away in stupefaction, believing all the men mad, and notat all comprehending this vision.
BOOK VIII.
THE COUNTERSTROKE.
