the hunchback of notre dame-第95章

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of　Paris；　at　the　entry　of　Monsieur　the　Legate；　and　have　ordered　the　personages；　clothed　and　dressed　the　same；　as　in　the　said　mystery　was　required；　and　likewise；　for　having　made　the　scaffoldings　thereto　necessary；　and　for　this　deed；one　hundred　livres。〃

Phoebus　de　Chateaupers　also　came　to　a　tragic　end。　　He　married。




CHAPTER　IV。

THE　MARRIAGE　OF　QUASIMODO。



We　have　just　said　that　Quasimodo　disappeared　from　Notre…　Dame　on　the　day　of　the　gypsy's　and　of　the　archdeacon's　death。　He　was　not　seen　again；　in　fact；　no　one　knew　what　had　become　of　him。

During　the　night　which　followed　the　execution　of　la　Esmeralda；　the　night　men　had　detached　her　body　from　the　gibbet；　and　had　carried　it；　according　to　custom；　to　the　cellar　of　Montfau？on。

Montfau？on　was；　as　Sauval　says；　〃the　most　ancient　and　the　most　superb　gibbet　in　the　kingdom。〃　　Between　the　faubourgs　of　the　Temple　and　Saint　Martin；　about　a　hundred　and　sixty　toises　from　the　walls　of　Paris；　a　few　bow　shots　from　La　Courtille；　there　was　to　be　seen　on　the　crest　of　a　gentle；　almost　imperceptible　eminence；　but　sufficiently　elevated　to　be　seen　for　several　leagues　round　about；　an　edifice　of　strange　form；　bearing　considerable　resemblance　to　a　Celtic　cromlech；　and　where　also　human　sacrifices　were　offered。

Let　the　reader　picture　to　himself；　crowning　a　limestone　hillock；　an　oblong　mass　of　masonry　fifteen　feet　in　height；　thirty　wide；　forty　long；　with　a　gate；　an　external　railing　and　a　platform；　on　this　platform　sixteen　enormous　pillars　of　rough　hewn　stone；　thirty　feet　in　height；　arranged　in　a　colonnade　round　three　of　the　four　sides　of　the　mass　which　support　them；　bound　together　at　their　summits　by　heavy　beams；　whence　hung　chains　at　intervals；　on　all　these　chains；　skeletons；　in　the　vicinity；　on　the　plain；　a　stone　cross　and　two　gibbets　of　secondary　importance；　which　seemed　to　have　sprung　up　as　shoots　around　the　central　gallows；　above　all　this；　in　the　sky；　a　perpetual　flock　of　crows；　that　was　Montfau？on。

At　the　end　of　the　fifteenth　century；　the　formidable　gibbet　which　dated　from　1328；　was　already　very　much　dilapidated；　the　beams　were　wormeaten；　the　chains　rusted；　the　pillars　green　with　mould；　the　layers　of　hewn　stone　were　all　cracked　at　their　joints；　and　grass　was　growing　on　that　platform　which　no　feet　touched。　　The　monument　made　a　horrible　profile　against　the　sky；　especially　at　night　when　there　was　a　little　moonlight　on　those　white　skulls；　or　when　the　breeze　of　evening　brushed　the　chains　and　the　skeletons；　and　swayed　all　these　in　the　darkness。　　The　presence　of　this　gibbet　sufficed　to　render　gloomy　all　the　surrounding　places。

The　mass　of　masonry　which　served　as　foundation　to　the　odious　edifice　was　hollow。　　A　huge　cellar　had　been　constructed　there；　closed　by　an　old　iron　grating；　which　was　out　of　order；　into　which　were　cast　not　only　the　human　remains；　which　were　taken　from　the　chains　of　Montfau？on；　but　also　the　bodies　of　all　the　unfortunates　executed　on　the　other　permanent　gibbets　of　Paris。　　To　that　deep　charnel…house；　where　so　many　human　remains　and　so　many　crimes　have　rotted　in　company；　many　great　ones　of　this　world；　many　innocent　people；　have　contributed　their　bones；　from　Enguerrand　de　Marigni；　the　first　victim；　and　a　just　man；　to　Admiral　de　Coligni；　who　was　its　last；　and　who　was　also　a　just　man。

As　for　the　mysterious　disappearance　of　Quasimodo；　this　is　all　that　we　have　been　able　to　discover。

About　eighteen　months　or　two　years　after　the　events　which　terminate　this　story；　when　search　was　made　in　that　cavern　for　the　body　of　Olivier　le　Daim；　who　had　been　hanged　two　days　previously；　and　to　whom　Charles　VIII。　had　granted　the　favor　of　being　buried　in　Saint　Laurent；　in　better　company；　they　found　among　all　those　hideous　carcasses　two　skeletons；　one　of　which　held　the　other　in　its　embrace。　　One　of　these　skeletons；　which　was　that　of　a　woman；　still　had　a　few　strips　of　a　garment　which　had　once　been　white；　and　around　her　neck　was　to　be　seen　a　string　of　adrézarach　beads　with　a　little　silk　bag　ornamented　with　green　glass；　which　was　open　and　empty。　These　objects　were　of　so　little　value　that　the　executioner　had　probably　not　cared　for　them。　　The　other；　which　held　this　one　in　a　close　embrace；　was　the　skeleton　of　a　man。　　It　was　noticed　that　his　spinal　column　was　crooked；　his　head　seated　on　his　shoulder　blades；　and　that　one　leg　was　shorter　than　the　other。　Moreover；　there　was　no　fracture　of　the　vertebrae　at　the　nape　of　the　neck；　and　it　was　evident　that　he　had　not　been　hanged。　Hence；　the　man　to　whom　it　had　belonged　had　come　thither　and　had　died　there。　　When　they　tried　to　detach　the　skeleton　which　he　held　in　his　embrace；　he　fell　to　dust。




NOTE

ADDED　TO　THE　DEFINITIVE　EDITION。



It　is　by　mistake　that　this　edition　was　announced　as　augmented　by　many　new　chapters。　　The　word　should　have　been　unpublished。　　In　fact；　if　by　new；　newly　made　is　to　be　understood；　the　chapters　added　to　this　edition　are　not　new。　They　were　written　at　the　same　time　as　the　rest　of　the　work；　they　date　from　the　same　epoch；　and　sprang　from　the　same　thought；　they　have　always　formed　a　part　of　the　manuscript　of　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris。〃　Moreover；　the　author　cannot　comprehend　how　fresh　developments　could　be　added　to　a　work　of　this　character　after　its　completion。　　This　is　not　to　be　done　at　will。　　According　to　his　idea；　a　romance　is　born　in　a　manner　that　is；　in　some　sort；　necessary；　with　all　its　chapters；　a　drama　is　born　with　all　its　scenes。　　Think　not　that　there　is　anything　arbitrary　in　the　numbers　of　parts　of　which　that　whole；　that　mysterious　microcosm　which　you　call　a　drama　or　a　romance；　is　composed。　　Grafting　and　soldering　take　badly　on　works　of　this　nature；　which　should　gush　forth　in　a　single　stream　and　so　remain。　　The　thing　once　done；　do　not　change　your　mind；　do　not　touch　it　up。　　The　book　once　published；　the　sex　of　the　work；　whether　virile　or　not；　has　been　recognized　and　proclaimed；　when　the　child　has　once　uttered　his　first　cry　he　is　born；　there　he　is；　he　is　made　so；　neither　father　nor　mother　can　do　anything；　he　belongs　to　the　air　and　to　the　sun；　let　him　live　or　die；　such　as　he　is。　　Has　your　book　been　a　failure？　So　much　the　worse。　　Add　no　chapters　to　an　unsuccessful　book。　　Is　it　incomplete？　　You　should　have　completed　it　when　you　conceived　it。　　Is　your　tree　crooked？　　You　cannot　straighten　it　up。　　Is　your　romance　consumptive？　　Is　your　romance　not　capable　of　living？　　You　cannot　supply　it　with　the　breath　which　it　lacks。　　Has　your　drama　been　born　lame？　Take　my　advice；　and　do　not　provide　it　with　a　wooden　leg。

Hence　the　author　attaches　particular　importance　to　the　public　knowing　for　a　certainty　that　the　chapters　here　added　have　not　been　made　expressly　for　this　reprint。　　They　were　not　published　in　the　preceding　editions　of　the　book　for　a　very　simple　reason。　　At　the　time　when　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris〃　was　printed　the　first　time；　the　manuscript　of　these　three　chapters　had　been　mislaid。　　It　was　necessary　to　rewrite　them　or　to　dispense　with　them。　　The　author　considered　that　the　only　two　of　these　chapters　which　were　in　the　least　important；　owing　to　their　extent；　were　chapters　on　art　and　history　which　in　no　way　interfered　with　the　groundwork　of　the　drama　and　the　romance；　that　the　public　would　not　notice　their　loss；　and　that　he；　the　author；　would　alone　be　in　possession　of　the　secret。　　He　decided　to　omit　them；　and　then；　if　the　whole　truth　must　be　confessed；　his　indolence　shrunk　from　the　task　of　rewriting　the　three　lost　chapters。　　He　would　have　found　it　a　shorter　matter　to　make　a　new　romance。

Now　the　chapters　have　been　found；　and　he　avails　himself　of　the　first　opportunity　to　restore　them　to　their　place。

This　now；　is　his　entire　work；　such　as　he　dreamed　it；　such　as　he　made　it；　good　or　bad；　durable　or　fragile；　but　such　as　he　wishes　it。

These　recovered　chapters　will　possess　no　doubt；　but　little　value　in　the　eyes　of　persons；　otherwise　very　judicious；　who　have　sought　in　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris〃　only　the　drama；　the　romance。　　But　there　are　perchance；　other　readers；　who　have　not　found　it　useless　to　study　the　aesthetic　and　philosophic　thought　concealed　in　this　book；　and　who　have　taken　pleasure；　while　reading　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris；〃　in　unravelling　beneath　the　romance　something　else　than　the　romance；　and　in　following　（may　we　be　pardoned　these　rather　ambitious　expressions）；　the　system　of　the　historian　and　the　aim　of　the　artist　through　the　creation　of　the　poet。

For　such　people　especially；　the　chapters　added　to　this　edition　will　complete　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris；〃　if　we　admit　that　〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris〃　was　worth　the　trouble　of　completing。

In　one　of　these　chapters　on　the　present　decadence　of　architecture；　and　on　the　death　（in　his　mind　almost　inevitable）　of　that　king　of　arts；　the　author　expresses　and　develops　an　opinion　unfortunately　well　rooted　in　him；　and　well　thought　out。　　But　he　feels　it　necessary　to　say　here　that　he　earnestly　desires　that　the　future　may；　some　day；　put　him　in　the　wrong。　　He　knows　that　art　in　all　its　forms　has　everything　to　hope　from　the　new　generations　whose　genius；　still　in　the　germ；　can　be　heard　gushing　forth　in　our　studios。　　The　grain　is　in　the　furrow；　the　harvest　will　certainly　be　fine。　　He　merely　fears；　and　the　reason　may　be　seen　in　the　second　volume　of　this　edition；　that　the　sap　may　have　been　withdrawn　from　that　ancient　soil　of　architecture　which　has　been　for　so　many　centuries　the　best　field　for　art。

Nevertheless；　there　are　to…day　in　the　artistic　youth　so　much　life；　power；　and；　so　to　speak；　predestination；　that　in　our　schools　of　architecture　in　particular；　at　the　present　time；　the　professors；　who　are　detestable；　produce；　not　only　unconsciously　but　even　in　spite　of　themselves；　excellent　pupils；　quite　the　reverse　of　that　potter　mentioned　by　Horace；　who　dreamed　amphorae　and　produced　pots。　　~Currit　rota；　urcens　exit~。

But；　in　any　case；　whatever　may　be　the　future　of　architecture；　in　whatever　manner　our　young　architects　may　one　day　solve　the　question　of　their　art；　let　us；　while　waiting　for　new　monument；　preserve　the　ancient　monuments。　　Let　us；　if　possible；　inspire　the　nation　with　a　love　for　national　architecture。　　That；　the　author　declares；　is　one　of　the　principal　aims　of　this　book；　it　is　one　of　the　principal　aims　of　his　life。

〃Notre…Dame…de…Paris〃　has；　perhaps　opened　some　true　perspectives　on　the　art　of　the　Middle　Ages；　on　that　marvellous　art　which　up　to　the　present　time　has　been　unknown　to　some；　and；　what　is　worse；　misknown　by　others。　　But　the　author　is　far　from　regarding　as　accomplished；　the　task　which　he　has　voluntarily　imposed　on　himself。　　He　has　already　pleaded　on　more　than　one　occasion；　the　cause　of　our　ancient　architecture；　he　has　already　loudly　denounced　many　profanations；　many　demolitions；　many　impieties。　　He　will　not　grow　weary。　　He　has　promised　himself　to　recur　frequently　to　this　subject。　　He　will　return　to　it。　　He　will　be　as　indefatigable　in　defending　our　historical　edifices　as　our　iconoclasts　of　the　schools　and　academies　are　eager　in　attacking　them；　for　it　is　a　grievous　thing　to　see　into　what　hands　the　architecture　of　the　Middle　Ages　has　fallen；　and　in　what　a　manner　the　botchers　of　plaster　of　the　present　day　treat　the　ruin　of　this　grand　art；　it　is　even　a　shame　for　us　intelligent　men　who　see　them　at　work　and　content　ourselves　with　hooting　them。　　And　we　are　not　speaking　here　merely　of　what　goes　on　in　the　provinces；　but　of