Les Misérables, page 61
CHAPTER II--HOW JEAN MAY BECOME CHAMP
One morning M. Madeleine was in his study, occupied in arranging inadvance some pressing matters connected with the mayor's office, in casehe should decide to take the trip to Montfermeil, when he was informedthat Police Inspector Javert was desirous of speaking with him.Madeleine could not refrain from a disagreeable impression on hearingthis name. Javert had avoided him more than ever since the affair of thepolice-station, and M. Madeleine had not seen him.
"Admit him," he said.
Javert entered.
M. Madeleine had retained his seat near the fire, pen in hand, his eyesfixed on the docket which he was turning over and annotating, and whichcontained the trials of the commission on highways for the infraction ofpolice regulations. He did not disturb himself on Javert's account. Hecould not help thinking of poor Fantine, and it suited him to be glacialin his manner.
Javert bestowed a respectful salute on the mayor, whose back was turnedto him. The mayor did not look at him, but went on annotating thisdocket.
Javert advanced two or three paces into the study, and halted, withoutbreaking the silence.
If any physiognomist who had been familiar with Javert, and who hadmade a lengthy study of this savage in the service of civilization,this singular composite of the Roman, the Spartan, the monk, and thecorporal, this spy who was incapable of a lie, this unspotted policeagent--if any physiognomist had known his secret and long-cherishedaversion for M. Madeleine, his conflict with the mayor on the subject ofFantine, and had examined Javert at that moment, he would have said tohimself, "What has taken place?" It was evident to any one acquaintedwith that clear, upright, sincere, honest, austere, and ferociousconscience, that Javert had but just gone through some great interiorstruggle. Javert had nothing in his soul which he had not also in hiscountenance. Like violent people in general, he was subject to abruptchanges of opinion. His physiognomy had never been more peculiar andstartling. On entering he bowed to M. Madeleine with a look in whichthere was neither rancor, anger, nor distrust; he halted a few paces inthe rear of the mayor's arm-chair, and there he stood, perfectly erect,in an attitude almost of discipline, with the cold, ingenuous roughnessof a man who has never been gentle and who has always been patient; hewaited without uttering a word, without making a movement, in genuinehumility and tranquil resignation, calm, serious, hat in hand, witheyes cast down, and an expression which was half-way between that of asoldier in the presence of his officer and a criminal in the presenceof his judge, until it should please the mayor to turn round. All thesentiments as well as all the memories which one might have attributedto him had disappeared. That face, as impenetrable and simple asgranite, no longer bore any trace of anything but a melancholydepression. His whole person breathed lowliness and firmness and anindescribable courageous despondency.
At last the mayor laid down his pen and turned half round.
"Well! What is it? What is the matter, Javert?"
Javert remained silent for an instant as though collecting his ideas,then raised his voice with a sort of sad solemnity, which did not,however, preclude simplicity.
"This is the matter, Mr. Mayor; a culpable act has been committed."
"What act?"
"An inferior agent of the authorities has failed in respect, and in thegravest manner, towards a magistrate. I have come to bring the fact toyour knowledge, as it is my duty to do."
"Who is the agent?" asked M. Madeleine.
"I," said Javert.
"You?"
"I."
"And who is the magistrate who has reason to complain of the agent?"
"You, Mr. Mayor."
M. Madeleine sat erect in his arm-chair. Javert went on, with a severeair and his eyes still cast down.
"Mr. Mayor, I have come to request you to instigate the authorities todismiss me."
M. Madeleine opened his mouth in amazement. Javert interrupted him:--
"You will say that I might have handed in my resignation, but that doesnot suffice. Handing in one's resignation is honorable. I have failed inmy duty; I ought to be punished; I must be turned out."
And after a pause he added:--
"Mr. Mayor, you were severe with me the other day, and unjustly. Be soto-day, with justice."
"Come, now! Why?" exclaimed M. Madeleine. "What nonsense is this?What is the meaning of this? What culpable act have you been guilty oftowards me? What have you done to me? What are your wrongs with regardto me? You accuse yourself; you wish to be superseded--"
"Turned out," said Javert.
"Turned out; so it be, then. That is well. I do not understand."
"You shall understand, Mr. Mayor."
Javert sighed from the very bottom of his chest, and resumed, stillcoldly and sadly:--
"Mr. Mayor, six weeks ago, in consequence of the scene over that woman,I was furious, and I informed against you."
"Informed against me!"
"At the Prefecture of Police in Paris."
M. Madeleine, who was not in the habit of laughing much oftener thanJavert himself, burst out laughing now:--
"As a mayor who had encroached on the province of the police?"
"As an ex-convict."
The mayor turned livid.
Javert, who had not raised his eyes, went on:--
"I thought it was so. I had had an idea for a long time; a resemblance;inquiries which you had caused to be made at Faverolles; the strengthof your loins; the adventure with old Fauchelevant; your skill inmarksmanship; your leg, which you drag a little;--I hardly know whatall,--absurdities! But, at all events, I took you for a certain JeanValjean."
"A certain--What did you say the name was?"
"Jean Valjean. He was a convict whom I was in the habit of seeing twentyyears ago, when I was adjutant-guard of convicts at Toulon. On leavingthe galleys, this Jean Valjean, as it appears, robbed a bishop; then hecommitted another theft, accompanied with violence, on a public highwayon the person of a little Savoyard. He disappeared eight years ago, noone knows how, and he has been sought, I fancied. In short, I did thisthing! Wrath impelled me; I denounced you at the Prefecture!"
M. Madeleine, who had taken up the docket again several moments beforethis, resumed with an air of perfect indifference:--
"And what reply did you receive?"
"That I was mad."
"Well?"
"Well, they were right."
"It is lucky that you recognize the fact."
"I am forced to do so, since the real Jean Valjean has been found."
The sheet of paper which M. Madeleine was holding dropped from hishand; he raised his head, gazed fixedly at Javert, and said with hisindescribable accent:--
"Ah!"
Javert continued:--
"This is the way it is, Mr. Mayor. It seems that there was in theneighborhood near Ailly-le-Haut-Clocher an old fellow who was calledFather Champmathieu. He was a very wretched creature. No one paid anyattention to him. No one knows what such people subsist on. Lately, lastautumn, Father Champmathieu was arrested for the theft of some ciderapples from--Well, no matter, a theft had been committed, a wall scaled,branches of trees broken. My Champmathieu was arrested. He still hadthe branch of apple-tree in his hand. The scamp is locked up. Up tothis point it was merely an affair of a misdemeanor. But here is whereProvidence intervened.
"The jail being in a bad condition, the examining magistrate finds itconvenient to transfer Champmathieu to Arras, where the departmentalprison is situated. In this prison at Arras there is an ex-convict namedBrevet, who is detained for I know not what, and who has been appointedturnkey of the house, because of good behavior. Mr. Mayor, no sooner hadChampmathieu arrived than Brevet exclaims: 'Eh! Why, I know that man!He is a _fagot!_4 Take a good look at me, my good man! You are JeanValjean!' 'Jean Valjean! who's Jean Valjean?' Champmathieu feignsastonishment. 'Don't play the innocent dodge,' says Brevet. 'You areJean Valjean! You have been in the galleys of Toulon; it was twentyyears ago; we were there together.' Champmathieu denies it. Parbleu! Youunderstand. The case is investigated. The thing was well ventilated forme. This is what they discovered: This Champmathieu had been, thirtyyears ago, a pruner of trees in various localities, notably atFaverolles. There all trace of him was lost. A long time afterwards hewas seen again in Auvergne; then in Paris, where he is said to have beena wheelwright, and to have had a daughter, who was a laundress; but thathas not been proved. Now, before going to the galleys for theft, whatwas Jean Valjean? A pruner of trees. Where? At Faverolles. Another fact.This Valjean's Christian name was Jean, and his mother's surname wasMathieu. What more natural to suppose than that, on emerging from thegalleys, he should have taken his mother's name for the purpose ofconcealing himself, and have called himself Jean Mathieu? He goes toAuvergne. The local pronunciation turns _Jean_ into _Chan_--he is calledChan Mathieu. Our man offers no opposition, and behold him transformedinto Champmathieu. You follow me, do you not? Inquiries were made atFaverolles. The family of Jean Valjean is no longer there. It is notknown where they have gone. You know that among those classes a familyoften disappears. Search was made, and nothing was found. When suchpeople are not mud, they are dust. And then, as the beginning of thestory dates thirty years back, there is no longer any one at Faverolleswho knew Jean Valjean. Inquiries were made at Toulon. Besides Brevet,there are only two convicts in existence who have seen Jean Valjean;they are Cochepaille and Chenildieu, and are sentenced for life.They are taken from the galleys and confronted with the pretendedChampmathieu. They do not hesitate; he is Jean Valjean for them as wellas for Brevet. The same age,--he is fifty-four,--the same height, thesame air, the same man; in short, it is he. It was precisely at thismoment that I forwarded my denunciation to the Prefecture in Paris. Iwas told that I had lost my reason, and that Jean Valjean is at Arras,in the power of the authorities. You can imagine whether this surprisedme, when I thought that I had that same Jean Valjean here. I write tothe examining judge; he sends for me; Champmathieu is conducted to me--"
"Well?" interposed M. Madeleine.
Javert replied, his face incorruptible, and as melancholy as ever:--
"Mr. Mayor, the truth is the truth. I am sorry; but that man is JeanValjean. I recognized him also."
M. Madeleine resumed in, a very low voice:--
"You are sure?"
Javert began to laugh, with that mournful laugh which comes fromprofound conviction.
"O! Sure!"
He stood there thoughtfully for a moment, mechanically taking pinches ofpowdered wood for blotting ink from the wooden bowl which stood on thetable, and he added:--
"And even now that I have seen the real Jean Valjean, I do not see how Icould have thought otherwise. I beg your pardon, Mr. Mayor."
Javert, as he addressed these grave and supplicating words to the man,who six weeks before had humiliated him in the presence of the wholestation-house, and bade him "leave the room,"--Javert, that haughty man,was unconsciously full of simplicity and dignity,--M. Madeleine made noother reply to his prayer than the abrupt question:--
"And what does this man say?"
"Ah! Indeed, Mr. Mayor, it's a bad business. If he is Jean Valjean, hehas his previous conviction against him. To climb a wall, to break abranch, to purloin apples, is a mischievous trick in a child; for aman it is a misdemeanor; for a convict it is a crime. Robbingand housebreaking--it is all there. It is no longer a question ofcorrectional police; it is a matter for the Court of Assizes. It is nolonger a matter of a few days in prison; it is the galleys for life. Andthen, there is the affair with the little Savoyard, who will return, Ihope. The deuce! there is plenty to dispute in the matter, is there not?Yes, for any one but Jean Valjean. But Jean Valjean is a sly dog. Thatis the way I recognized him. Any other man would have felt that thingswere getting hot for him; he would struggle, he would cry out--thekettle sings before the fire; he would not be Jean Valjean, _etcetera_. But he has not the appearance of understanding; he says, 'I amChampmathieu, and I won't depart from that!' He has an astonished air,he pretends to be stupid; it is far better. Oh! the rogue is clever! Butit makes no difference. The proofs are there. He has been recognized byfour persons; the old scamp will be condemned. The case has been takento the Assizes at Arras. I shall go there to give my testimony. I havebeen summoned."
M. Madeleine had turned to his desk again, and taken up his docket, andwas turning over the leaves tranquilly, reading and writing by turns,like a busy man. He turned to Javert:--
"That will do, Javert. In truth, all these details interest me butlittle. We are wasting our time, and we have pressing business on hand.Javert, you will betake yourself at once to the house of the womanBuseaupied, who sells herbs at the corner of the Rue Saint-Saulve. Youwill tell her that she must enter her complaint against carter PierreChesnelong. The man is a brute, who came near crushing this woman andher child. He must be punished. You will then go to M. Charcellay,Rue Montre-de-Champigny. He complained that there is a gutter on theadjoining house which discharges rain-water on his premises, and isundermining the foundations of his house. After that, you will verifythe infractions of police regulations which have been reported to me inthe Rue Guibourg, at Widow Doris's, and Rue du Garraud-Blanc, at MadameRenée le Bossé's, and you will prepare documents. But I am giving you agreat deal of work. Are you not to be absent? Did you not tell me thatyou were going to Arras on that matter in a week or ten days?"
"Sooner than that, Mr. Mayor."
"On what day, then?"
"Why, I thought that I had said to Monsieur le Maire that the case wasto be tried to-morrow, and that I am to set out by diligence to-night."
M. Madeleine made an imperceptible movement.
"And how long will the case last?"
"One day, at the most. The judgment will be pronounced to-morrow eveningat latest. But I shall not wait for the sentence, which is certain; Ishall return here as soon as my deposition has been taken."
"That is well," said M. Madeleine.
And he dismissed Javert with a wave of the hand.
Javert did not withdraw.
"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor," said he.
"What is it now?" demanded M. Madeleine.
"Mr. Mayor, there is still something of which I must remind you."
"What is it?"
"That I must be dismissed."
M. Madeleine rose.
"Javert, you are a man of honor, and I esteem you. You exaggerate yourfault. Moreover, this is an offence which concerns me. Javert, youdeserve promotion instead of degradation. I wish you to retain yourpost."
Javert gazed at M. Madeleine with his candid eyes, in whose depths hisnot very enlightened but pure and rigid conscience seemed visible, andsaid in a tranquil voice:--
"Mr. Mayor, I cannot grant you that."
"I repeat," replied M. Madeleine, "that the matter concerns me."
But Javert, heeding his own thought only, continued:--
"So far as exaggeration is concerned, I am not exaggerating. This is theway I reason: I have suspected you unjustly. That is nothing. It is ourright to cherish suspicion, although suspicion directed above ourselvesis an abuse. But without proofs, in a fit of rage, with the objectof wreaking my vengeance, I have denounced you as a convict, you, arespectable man, a mayor, a magistrate! That is serious, very serious. Ihave insulted authority in your person, I, an agent of the authorities!If one of my subordinates had done what I have done, I should havedeclared him unworthy of the service, and have expelled him. Well? Stop,Mr. Mayor; one word more. I have often been severe in the course of mylife towards others. That is just. I have done well. Now, if I were notsevere towards myself, all the justice that I have done would becomeinjustice. Ought I to spare myself more than others? No! What! I shouldbe good for nothing but to chastise others, and not myself! Why, Ishould be a blackguard! Those who say, 'That blackguard of a Javert!'would be in the right. Mr. Mayor, I do not desire that you should treatme kindly; your kindness roused sufficient bad blood in me when it wasdirected to others. I want none of it for myself. The kindness whichconsists in upholding a woman of the town against a citizen, the policeagent against the mayor, the man who is down against the man who isup in the world, is what I call false kindness. That is the sort ofkindness which disorganizes society. Good God! it is very easy to bekind; the difficulty lies in being just. Come! if you had been what Ithought you, I should not have been kind to you, not I! You would haveseen! Mr. Mayor, I must treat myself as I would treat any other man.When I have subdued malefactors, when I have proceeded with vigoragainst rascals, I have often said to myself, 'If you flinch, if I evercatch you in fault, you may rest at your ease!' I have flinched, Ihave caught myself in a fault. So much the worse! Come, discharged,cashiered, expelled! That is well. I have arms. I will till the soil; itmakes no difference to me. Mr. Mayor, the good of the service demands anexample. I simply require the discharge of Inspector Javert."
All this was uttered in a proud, humble, despairing, yet convinced tone,which lent indescribable grandeur to this singular, honest man.
"We shall see," said M. Madeleine.
And he offered him his hand.
Javert recoiled, and said in a wild voice:--
"Excuse me, Mr. Mayor, but this must not be. A mayor does not offer hishand to a police spy."
He added between his teeth:--
"A police spy, yes; from the moment when I have misused the police. I amno more than a police spy."
Then he bowed profoundly, and directed his steps towards the door.
There he wheeled round, and with eyes still downcast:--
"Mr. Mayor," he said, "I shall continue to serve until I am superseded."
He withdrew. M. Madeleine remained thoughtfully listening to the firm,sure step, which died away on the pavement of the corridor.
BOOK SEVENTH.--THE CHAMPMATHIEU AFFAIR
