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ThereadermustpermitustotakehimbacktothePlacedeGrève,whichwequittedyesterdaywithGringoire,inordertofollowlaEsmeralda.
Itisteno'clockinthemorning;everythingisindicativeofthedayafterafestival.
Thepavementiscoveredwithrubbish;ribbons,rags,feathersfromtuftsofplumes,dropsofwaxfromthetorches,crumbsofthepublicfeast.
Agoodlynumberofbourgeoisare"sauntering,"aswesay,hereandthere,turningoverwiththeirfeettheextinctbrandsofthebonfire,goingintorapturesinfrontofthePillarHouse,overthememoryofthefinehangingsofthedaybefore,andto–daystaringatthenailsthatsecuredthemalastpleasure.
Thevendersofciderandbeerarerollingtheirbarrelsamongthegroups.Somebusypassers–bycomeandgo.
Themerchantsconverseandcalltoeachotherfromthethresholdsoftheirshops.
Thefestival,theambassadors,Coppenole,thePopeoftheFools,areinallmouths;theyviewitheachother,eachtryingtocriticiseitbestandlaughthemost.
And,meanwhile,fourmountedsergeants,whohavejustpostedthemselvesatthefoursidesofthepillory,havealreadyconcentratedaroundthemselvesagoodlyproportionofthepopulacescatteredonthePlace,whocondemnthemselvestoimmobilityandfatigueinthehopeofasmallexecution.
Ifthereader,afterhavingcontemplatedthislivelyandnoisyscenewhichisbeingenactedinallpartsofthePlace,willnowtransferhisgazetowardsthatancientdemi–Gothic,demi–RomanesquehouseoftheTour–Roland,whichformsthecorneronthequaytothewest,hewillobserve,attheangleofthefaade,alargepublicbreviary,withrichilluminations,protectedfromtherainbyalittlepenthouse,andfromthievesbyasmallgrating,which,however,permitsoftheleavesbeingturned.
Besidethisbreviaryisanarrow,archedwindow,closedbytwoironbarsintheformofacross,andlookingonthesquare;theonlyopeningwhichadmitsasmallquantityoflightandairtoalittlecellwithoutadoor,constructedontheground–floor,inthethicknessofthewallsoftheoldhouse,andfilledwithapeaceallthemoreprofound,withasilenceallthemoregloomy,becauseapublicplace,themostpopulousandmostnoisyinParisswarmsandshrieksaroundit.
ThislittlecellhadbeencelebratedinParisfornearlythreecenturies,eversinceMadameRolandedelaTour–Roland,inmourningforherfatherwhodiedintheCrusades,hadcausedittobehollowedoutinthewallofherownhouse,inordertoimmureherselfthereforever,keepingofallherpalaceonlythislodgingwhosedoorwaswalledup,andwhosewindowstoodopen,winterandsummer,givingalltheresttothepoorandtoGod.
Theafflicteddamselhad,infact,waitedtwentyyearsfordeathinthisprematuretomb,prayingnightanddayforthesoulofherfather,sleepinginashes,withoutevenastoneforapillow,clothedinablacksack,andsubsistingonthebreadandwaterwhichthecompassionofthepassers–byledthemtodepositontheledgeofherwindow,thusreceivingcharityafterhavingbestowedit.
Atherdeath,atthemomentwhenshewaspassingtotheothersepulchre,shehadbequeathedthisoneinperpetuitytoafflictedwomen,mothers,widows,ormaidens,whoshouldwishtopraymuchforothersorforthemselves,andwhoshoulddesiretointerthemselvesaliveinagreatgrieforagreatpenance.
Thepoorofherdayhadmadeherafinefuneral,withtearsandbenedictions;but,totheirgreatregret,thepiousmaidhadnotbeencanonized,forlackofinfluence.
Thoseamongthemwhowerealittleinclinedtoimpiety,hadhopedthatthemattermightbeaccomplishedinParadisemoreeasilythanatRome,andhadfranklybesoughtGod,insteadofthepope,inbehalfofthedeceased.
ThemajorityhadcontentedthemselveswithholdingthememoryofRolandesacred,andconvertingherragsintorelics.
Thecity,onitsside,hadfoundedinhonorofthedamoiselle,apublicbreviary,whichhadbeenfastenednearthewindowofthecell,inorderthatpassers–bymighthalttherefromtimetotime,wereitonlytopray;thatprayermightremindthemofalms,andthatthepoorrecluses,heiressesofMadameRolande'svault,mightnotdieoutrightofhungerandforgetfulness.
Moreover,thissortoftombwasnotsoveryrareathinginthecitiesoftheMiddleAges.
Oneoftenencounteredinthemostfrequentedstreet,inthemostcrowdedandnoisymarket,intheverymiddle,underthefeetofthehorses,underthewheelsofthecarts,asitwere,acellar,awell,atinywalledandgratedcabin,atthebottomofwhichahumanbeingprayednightandday,voluntarilydevotedtosomeeternallamentation,tosomegreatexpiation.
Andallthereflectionswhichthatstrangespectaclewouldawakeninusto–day;thathorriblecell,asortofintermediarylinkbetweenahouseandthetomb,thecemeteryandthecity;thatlivingbeingcutofffromthehumancommunity,andthenceforthreckonedamongthedead;thatlampconsumingitslastdropofoilinthedarkness;thatremnantoflifeflickeringinthegrave;thatbreath,thatvoice,thateternalprayerinaboxofstone;thatfaceforeverturnedtowardstheotherworld;thateyealreadyilluminatedwithanothersun;thatearpressedtothewallsofatomb;thatsoulaprisonerinthatbody;thatbodyaprisonerinthatdungeoncell,andbeneaththatdoubleenvelopeoffleshandgranite,themurmurofthatsoulinpain;—nothingofallthiswasperceivedbythecrowd.
Thepietyofthatage,notverysubtlenormuchgiventoreasoning,didnotseesomanyfacetsinanactofreligion.
Ittookthethingintheblock,honored,venerated,hallowedthesacrificeatneed,butdidnotanalyzethesufferings,andfeltbutmoderatepityforthem.
Itbroughtsomepittancetothemiserablepenitentfromtimetotime,lookedthroughtheholetoseewhetherhewerestillliving,forgothisname,hardlyknewhowmanyyearsagohehadbeguntodie,andtothestranger,whoquestionedthemaboutthelivingskeletonwhowasperishinginthatcellar,theneighborsrepliedsimply,"Itistherecluse."
Everythingwasthenviewedwithoutmetaphysics,withoutexaggeration,withoutmagnifyingglass,withthenakedeye.
Themicroscopehadnotyetbeeninvented,eitherforthingsofmatterorforthingsofthemind.
Moreover,althoughpeoplewerebutlittlesurprisedbyit,theexamplesofthissortofcloistrationintheheartsofcitieswereintruthfrequent,aswehavejustsaid.
TherewereinParisaconsiderablenumberofthesecells,forprayingtoGodanddoingpenance;theywerenearlyalloccupied.
Itistruethattheclergydidnotliketohavethemempty,sincethatimpliedlukewarmnessinbelievers,andthatleperswereputintothemwhentherewerenopenitentsonhand.
BesidesthecellontheGrèvetherewasoneatMontfauon,oneattheCharnierdesInnocents,anotherIhardlyknowwhere,—attheClichonHouse,Ithink;othersstillatmanyspotswheretracesofthemarefoundintraditions,indefaultofmemorials.TheUniversityhadalsoitsown.
OnMountSainte–GeneviveasortofJoboftheMiddleAges,forthespaceofthirtyyears,chantedthesevenpenitentialpsalmsonadunghillatthebottomofacistern,beginninganewwhenhehadfinished,singingloudestatnight,~magnavoceperumbras~,andto–day,theantiquaryfanciesthathehearshisvoiceasheenterstheRueduPuits–qui–parle—thestreetofthe"SpeakingWell."
ToconfineourselvestothecellintheTour–Roland,wemustsaythatithadneverlackedrecluses.
AfterthedeathofMadameRoland,ithadstoodvacantforayearortwo,thoughrarely.
Manywomenhadcomethithertomourn,untiltheirdeath,forrelatives,lovers,faults.
Parisianmalice,whichthrustsitsfingerintoeverything,evenintothingswhichconcernittheleast,affirmedthatithadbeheldbutfewwidowsthere.
Inaccordancewiththefashionoftheepoch,aLatininscriptiononthewallindicatedtothelearnedpasser–bythepiouspurposeofthiscell.
Thecustomwasretaineduntilthemiddleofthesixteenthcenturyofexplaininganedificebyabriefdeviceinscribedabovethedoor.
Thus,onestillreadsinFrance,abovethewicketoftheprisonintheseignorialmansionofTourville,~Siletoetspera~;inIreland,beneaththearmorialbearingswhichsurmountthegranddoortoFortescueCastle,~Fortescutum,salusducum~;inEngland,overtheprincipalentrancetothehospitablemansionoftheEarlsCowper:~Tuumest~.
Atthattimeeveryedificewasathought.
AstherewasnodoortothewalledcelloftheTour–Roland,thesetwowordshadbeencarvedinlargeRomancapitalsoverthewindow,—
TU,ORA.
Andthiscausedthepeople,whosegoodsensedoesnotperceivesomuchrefinementinthings,andlikestotranslateLudovicoMagnoby"PorteSaint–Denis,"togivetothisdark,gloomy,dampcavity,thenameof"TheRat–Hole."
Anexplanationlesssublime,perhaps,thantheother;but,ontheotherhand,morepicturesque.
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