the hunchback of notre dame-第34节

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n　〃almost。〃




CHAPTER　III。

~IMMANIS　PECORIS　CUSTOS；　IMMANIOR　IPSE~。



Now；　in　1482；　Quasimodo　had　grown　up。　　He　had　become　a　few　years　previously　the　bellringer　of　Notre…Dame；　thanks　to　his　father　by　adoption；　Claude　Frollo；who　had　become　archdeacon　of　Josas；　thanks　to　his　suzerain；　Messire　Louis　de　Beaumont；who　had　become　Bishop　of　Paris；　at　the　death　of　Guillaume　Chartier　in　1472；　thanks　to　his　patron；　Olivier　Le　Daim；　barber　to　Louis　XI。；　king　by　the　grace　of　God。

So　Quasimodo　was　the　ringer　of　the　chimes　of　Notre…Dame。

In　the　course　of　time　there　had　been　formed　a　certain　peculiarly　intimate　bond　which　united　the　ringer　to　the　church。　Separated　forever　from　the　world；　by　the　double　fatality　of　his　unknown　birth　and　his　natural　deformity；　imprisoned　from　his　infancy　in　that　impassable　double　circle；　the　poor　wretch　had　grown　used　to　seeing　nothing　in　this　world　beyond　the　religious　walls　which　had　received　him　under　their　shadow。　Notre…Dame　had　been　to　him　successively；　as　he　grew　up　and　developed；　the　egg；　the　nest；　the　house；　the　country；　the　universe。

There　was　certainly　a　sort　of　mysterious　and　pre…existing　harmony　between　this　creature　and　this　church。　　When；　still　a　little　fellow；　he　had　dragged　himself　tortuously　and　by　jerks　beneath　the　shadows　of　its　vaults；　he　seemed；　with　his　human　face　and　his　bestial　limbs；　the　natural　reptile　of　that　humid　and　sombre　pavement；　upon　which　the　shadow　of　the　Romanesque　capitals　cast　so　many　strange　forms。

Later　on；　the　first　time　that　he　caught　hold；　mechanically；　of　the　ropes　to　the　towers；　and　hung　suspended　from　them；　and　set　the　bell　to　clanging；　it　produced　upon　his　adopted　father；　Claude；　the　effect　of　a　child　whose　tongue　is　unloosed　and　who　begins　to　speak。

It　is　thus　that；　little　by　little；　developing　always　in　sympathy　with　the　cathedral；　living　there；　sleeping　there；　hardly　ever　leaving　it；　subject　every　hour　to　the　mysterious　impress；　he　came　to　resemble　it；　he　incrusted　himself　in　it；　so　to　speak；　and　became　an　integral　part　of　it。　　His　salient　angles　fitted　into　the　retreating　angles　of　the　cathedral　（if　we　may　be　allowed　this　figure　of　speech）；　and　he　seemed　not　only　its　inhabitant　but　more　than　that；　its　natural　tenant。　　One　might　almost　say　that　he　had　assumed　its　form；　as　the　snail　takes　on　the　form　of　its　shell。　　It　was　his　dwelling；　his　hole；　his　envelope。　There　existed　between　him　and　the　old　church　so　profound　an　instinctive　sympathy；　so　many　magnetic　affinities；　so　many　material　affinities；　that　he　adhered　to　it　somewhat　as　a　tortoise　adheres　to　its　shell。　　The　rough　and　wrinkled　cathedral　was　his　shell。

It　is　useless　to　warn　the　reader　not　to　take　literally　all　the　similes　which　we　are　obliged　to　employ　here　to　express　the　singular；　symmetrical；　direct；　almost　consubstantial　union　of　a　man　and　an　edifice。　　It　is　equally　unnecessary　to　state　to　what　a　degree　that　whole　cathedral　was　familiar　to　him；　after　so　long　and　so　intimate　a　cohabitation。　　That　dwelling　was　peculiar　to　him。　　It　had　no　depths　to　which　Quasimodo　had　not　penetrated；　no　height　which　he　had　not　scaled。　　He　often　climbed　many　stones　up　the　front；　aided　solely　by　the　uneven　points　of　the　carving。　　The　towers；　on　whose　exterior　surface　he　was　frequently　seen　clambering；　like　a　lizard　gliding　along　a　perpendicular　wall；　those　two　gigantic　twins；　so　lofty；　so　menacing；　so　formidable；　possessed　for　him　neither　vertigo；　nor　terror；　nor　shocks　of　amazement。

To　see　them　so　gentle　under　his　hand；　so　easy　to　scale；　one　would　have　said　that　he　had　tamed　them。　　By　dint　of　leaping；　climbing；　gambolling　amid　the　abysses　of　the　gigantic　cathedral　he　had　become；　in　some　sort；　a　monkey　and　a　goat；　like　the　Calabrian　child　who　swims　before　he　walks；　and　plays　with　the　sea　while　still　a　babe。

Moreover；　it　was　not　his　body　alone　which　seemed　fashioned　after　the　Cathedral；　but　his　mind　also。　　In　what　condition　was　that　mind？　　What　bent　had　it　contracted；　what　form　had　it　assumed　beneath　that　knotted　envelope；　in　that　savage　life？　　This　it　would　be　hard　to　determine。　　Quasimodo　had　been　born　one…eyed；　hunchbacked；　lame。　　It　was　with　great　difficulty；　and　by　dint　of　great　patience　that　Claude　Frollo　had　succeeded　in　teaching　him　to　talk。　　But　a　fatality　was　attached　to　the　poor　foundling。　　Bellringer　of　Notre…Dame　at　the　age　of　fourteen；　a　new　infirmity　had　come　to　complete　his　misfortunes：　the　bells　had　broken　the　drums　of　his　ears；　he　had　become　deaf。　　The　only　gate　which　nature　had　left　wide　open　for　him　had　been　abruptly　closed；　and　forever。

In　closing；　it　had　cut　off　the　only　ray　of　joy　and　of　light　which　still　made　its　way　into　the　soul　of　Quasimodo。　　His　soul　fell　into　profound　night。　　The　wretched　being's　misery　became　as　incurable　and　as　complete　as　his　deformity。　　Let　us　add　that　his　deafness　rendered　him　to　some　extent　dumb。　For；　in　order　not　to　make　others　laugh；　the　very　moment　that　he　found　himself　to　be　deaf；　he　resolved　upon　a　silence　which　he　only　broke　when　he　was　alone。　　He　voluntarily　tied　that　tongue　which　Claude　Frollo　had　taken　so　much　pains　to　unloose。　Hence；　it　came　about；　that　when　necessity　constrained　him　to　speak；　his　tongue　was　torpid；　awkward；　and　like　a　door　whose　hinges　have　grown　rusty。

If　now　we　were　to　try　to　penetrate　to　the　soul　of　Quasimodo　through　that　thick；　hard　rind；　if　we　could　sound　the　depths　of　that　badly　constructed　organism；　if　it　were　granted　to　us　to　look　with　a　torch　behind　those　non…transparent　organs　to　explore　the　shadowy　interior　of　that　opaque　creature；　to　elucidate　his　obscure　corners；　his　absurd　no…thoroughfares；　and　suddenly　to　cast　a　vivid　light　upon　the　soul　enchained　at　the　extremity　of　that　cave；　we　should；　no　doubt；　find　the　unhappy　Psyche　in　some　poor；　cramped；　and　ricketty　attitude；　like　those　prisoners　beneath　the　Leads　of　Venice；　who　grew　old　bent　double　in　a　stone　box　which　was　both　too　low　and　too　short　for　them。

It　is　certain　that　the　mind　becomes　atrophied　in　a　defective　body。　　Quasimodo　was　barely　conscious　of　a　soul　cast　in　his　own　image；　moving　blindly　within　him。　　The　impressions　of　objects　underwent　a　considerable　refraction　before　reaching　his　mind。　　His　brain　was　a　peculiar　medium；　the　ideas　which　passed　through　it　issued　forth　completely　distorted。　　The　reflection　which　resulted　from　this　refraction　was；　necessarily；　divergent　and　perverted。

Hence　a　thousand　optical　illusions；　a　thousand　aberrations　of　judgment；　a　thousand　deviations；　in　which　his　thought　strayed；　now　mad；　now　idiotic。

The　first　effect　of　this　fatal　organization　was　to　trouble　the　glance　which　he　cast　upon　things。　　He　received　hardly　any　immediate　perception　of　them。　　The　external　world　seemed　much　farther　away　to　him　than　it　does　to　us。

The　second　effect　of　his　misfortune　was　to　render　him　malicious。

He　was　malicious；　in　fact；　because　he　was　savage；　he　was　savage　because　he　was　ugly。　　There　was　logic　in　his　nature；　as　there　is　in　ours。

His　strength；　so　extraordinarily　developed；　was　a　cause　of　still　greater　malevolence：　〃~Malus　puer　robustus~；〃　says　Hobbes。

This　justice　must；　however　be　rendered　to　him。　　Malevolence　was　not；　perhaps；　innate　in　him。　　From　his　very　first　steps　among　men；　he　had　felt　himself；　later　on　he　had　seen　himself；　spewed　out；　blasted；　rejected。　　Human　words　were；　for　him；　always　a　raillery　or　a　malediction。　　As　he　grew　up；　he　had　found　nothing　but　hatred　around　him。　　He　had　caught　the　general　malevolence。　　He　had　picked　up　the　weapon　with　which　he　had　been　wounded。

After　all；　he　turned　his　face　towards　men　only　with　reluctance；　his　cathedral　was　sufficient　for　him。　　It　was　peopled　with　marble　figures；kings；　saints；　bishops；who　at　least　did　not　burst　out　laughing　in　his　face；　and　who　gazed　upon　him　only　with　tranquillity　and　kindliness。　　The　other　statues；　those　of　the　monsters　and　demons；　cherished　no　hatred　for　him；　Quasimodo。　　He　resembled　them　too　much　for　that。　They　seemed　rather；　to　be　scoffing　at　other　men。　　The　saints　were　his　friends；　and　blessed　him；　the　monsters　were　his　friends　and　guarded　him。　　So　he　held　long　communion　with　them。　　He　sometimes　passed　whole　hours　crouching　before　one　of　these　statues；　in　solitary　conversation　with　it。　　If　any　one　came；　he　fled　like　a　lover　surprised　in　his　serenade。

And　the　cathedral　was　not　only　society　for　him；　but　the　universe；　and　all　nature　beside。　　He　dreamed　of　no　other　hedgerows　than　the　painted　windows；　always　in　flower；　no　other　shade　than　that　of　the　foliage　of　stone　which　spread　out；　loaded　with　birds；　in　the　tufts　of　the　Saxon　capitals；　of　no　other　mountains　than　the　colossal　towers　of　the　church；　of　no　other　ocean　than　Paris；　roaring　at　their　bases。

What　he　loved　above　all　else　in　the　maternal　edifice；　that　which　aroused　his　soul；　and　made　it　open　its　poor　wings；　which　it　kept　so　miserably　folded　in　its　cavern；　that　which　sometimes　rendered　him　even　happy；　was　the　bells。　　He　loved　them；　fondled　them；　talked　to　them；　understood　them。　From　the　chime　in　the　spire；　over　the　intersection　of　the　aisles　and　nave；　to　the　great　bell　of　the　front；　he　cherished　a　tenderness　for　them　all。　　The　central　spire　and　the　two　towers　were　to　him　as　three　great　cages；　whose　birds；　reared　by　himself；　sang　for　him　alone。　　Yet　it　was　these　very　be