Beadle's New York Dime Library, No. 144 — page 10: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

‘ |) ; u vow ~~” this *~ paining his ey 10 THE HUNCHBACK OF NOTRE-DAME. roodly legs as ever stepped upon the pavement of Paris. ' we should say that Gringoire had descended from! Vagabonds will enforce with you. ‘Tis your fault if i¢ At the same moment the other cripple, standing bolt | Michael Angelo to Callot. Around a great fre which burned upon a large cir-| should now and then be seen grinning through 4 cular hearth, and the flames of which rose among the | hempen collar—that makes the thing honorable. Come, — upon his feet, clapped lis heavy bewl cased i: iron upon Gringoire’s head, by way of cap, and tue blind man stared him in the face with a pair of ia ning eyes. : ‘Where am 1?" cried the affrighted: poet. ‘lu the Cour des Miracles,’’ replied a fourth spectre, who had joined them. ) “ Miracles,;upon my soul!” rejoined Gringoire, “ for here are blind who see, and lame who run,” A sinister laugh was their only answer, ; The poor poet cast his eyes around him. He was actually in that dreaded Cour des Miracles, into which no honest man ever penetrated at such an hour, a mayic circle, In which the officers of the Cliatelet and the Sergeants of the provost, who ventured within it, were disposell of in a trice; the haunt of thieves; a hideous wen on the face of Paris; a sewer disgorging every * mornjdy aud receiving every night that tetid torrent of vice, mendicity, and roguery, which always overflows the streots of great capitals; a monstrous hive to which all the drones of the social order retired at night with their booty: the hospital of imposture, where the gipsy, the unfrocked monk, the ruined scholar,the blackguards of all nations, Spaniards, [taliaps, Germans; of all reli- gions, Jews, Christians, Moham medans, idolators, cov- eréd with painted wounds, beyyars by day, transmogri- fied themselves into banditti at might; immense ro- ‘bing-room, in short, whither all the actors of that eternal comedy which theft, prostitution, and nurdcr ; cp remee em the strects of Paris, resorted at tl at d to dress aud to undress. s It was a spacious area, irregular, and ill-paved, like the open places of Paris in those days. — Fires, around which pore strange-looking groups, were blazing here and there. All was bustle, confusion, up- roar. Cvarse laughter, the crying of children, tuw ces of women, were intermingled. The hands and heads of this multitude, black upon a luminous und, were making a thousand antic gestures, A dog which looked like aman, or aman who looked like a * dog; might be seen from time to time passing over the gn on which trembled the reflection of the fires, erspersed with broad, ill-defined shadows. The limits between races and species seemed to bé done away with in this city, as im a pandemonium. Men, women, brutes, age, sex, health, disease, all seemed to be in common among these people. They: were junibled, huddjed together, laid upon one another; each there “partook ot everything. The faint and flickering light of the fires enabled Gringoire to distipguish, in spite of his agitation, all round theininrense place a hideous circumference of | old houses, the decayed, worm-eaten, ruinous fronts of which, each perforated by one or two small lighted window ared to him in the dark like enormous heads of old hags ranged in a circle, watching the witches’ Sabbath rites and winking their eyes. It wa i new world, unknown, unheard otf, deformed, crecping, crawhing, fantastic. , é Gringoire—more and more terrified; held by the three mendicauts ax by three yises; deafened by a crowd of other ingeo bleating and barking around him —the unlucky Grinyoire strove to rally his presence of and to recollect whether it was Saturday or not. ania | But is efforts were in vain; the thread of his memory ‘and of his thoughts was broken, and, doubting every- thing, floating between what he saw and what he felt, he asked himself this puzzling question: “If Iam, can ° Uf this is, can I be?’ ‘ At this moment a distinct shout arose from amidst the buzzing crowd by which he was surrounded; “Bead him to the king! lead him to the king!” “Holy Virgin!” muttered Gringoire; “the king of this place! why, he can be nothing but a goat.”’ “‘To the king | to the king!"’ repeated every voice. ‘He was hurried away. The rabble rushed to lay hauds on him, but the three mendicants held him ast in their gripe, tearing him away from the others, and bawling, “ He is ours!"’ The poet’s doublet, pre- viously in wretched plight, was utterly ruined in this struggle. .. While crossing the horrible place, the vertigo which had confused his seuses was dispelled, He had taken ut a few steps before a conviction of the reality flashed upon him, He began to become used to the at- mosphere: of ‘the place. At the first moment there had risen from his poetic brain, and, perhaps, to speak quite simply and prosaically, trom his empty stomach, a fume, a vapor, which, spreading itself be- | tween objects and him, had permitted him to catch @ glimpse of them only in the distorting haze of the nightmare, in that darkness of dreams, Which shows all outlines as shaking, all forms 4s grinning, all ob- jects as heaped together in preposterous groups, dilat- ing things into chimeras and men into phantoms. By degrees this hallucination gave plice to views less wild and less exaggerating. Reality burst updn him, , treading upon his toes, and demolish- ing piecemeal the whole frightful poesy by which he had at first fancied himself to be surrounded. He could not help perceiving that he was vot not in the Styx, but in the mud ; that he was n-t elbowed by demons, but by robbers ; that bis soul was not in dan- ger, but merbly his life, becanse. he lacked that excel- lent mediator between the ruffian and the honest man —the purse. In short, upon ore ueng the scene more closely and more coolly he fell from the witches’ Sab- bath down to the tavern. The Cour des Miracles was in fact nothing bunt a tavern, but a tavern for rufflans, quite as much stained with blood as with wine. + The sight which oe itself when his ra escort had at length one him to the place of his destination, was not c ted to carry him back to pent DR « fe ry of hell,’ It was more an ever the prosaic and brutal reality of the tavern, Wf our history did not pertain to the fifteenth century, | jovial phiz, was whistling the while he took’ off tlie | | red-hot bars of the trevet unoccupied at the moment, metrical symmetry in their arrangement, or to take at too unusual angles. flowing with wine and beer, and round these pots were grouped a great many jolly faces, empurpled by the fire and by’ drink. Here a man, with huge paunch and bandages irom a false wound, and removed the wrap- pers from a sound and vigorous knee, which had been swathed ever since morning in a dozen ligatures. At the back of him was a shriveled wretth, preparing with | sttet and bullock’s blood his black pudding for the en- | Mean what you say. suing day. Two tables off, a sharper, in the complete dress of a pilgrim, was twanging a stave of a religious hymn. In another place @ young rogue was taking a lesson in epilepsy from an old cadger, who was also teachiny him the art of foaming at the mouth by chew- ing abit of soap. By the side of these a dropsical man was ridding himself of his protuberance, while four or five canters of the other 6ex were quarreling about a child they had stolen in the course of the evening. Vircumstances these, which, two centuries later, “‘ ap- peared so ridiculous to the court,” as Sauval tells us, “that they furnished pastime for the king, and were introdneed into a royal ballet, called ‘Night,’ divided into four parts, and performed npon the stage of tie Petit-Bourbon.’’ “Never, adds.a spectator of this perform ince, “ were the sudden metamorphoses of the Cour de; Miracles more successfully represented.” From vvery quarter burst forth the coarse laugh and the obsvene song. Each didjust as he pleased, swear- jns an | descanting, without listening to his neighbor The pots jingled, quarrels arose, and broken mtigs oc- _casioned a destruction of rags. Alarge dog was seated on his haunches, looking at fire. Young children were present at these oryies. e stolen boy wascrying bitterly. Another, a stout fellow, about four years old, was sitting on® high bench, dangling lis leys at the table, which reached up to his chin, and saying not a word. A third was yravely spreading out with-his finger the melted tal- low which ran from a candle upon the table. The last, a little urchin, crouching in the dirt, wags almost lost in akettle, which he was scraping with a tile, and from which he was extracting sounds that would have thrown Stradivarius into a swoon. ' Near the fire stood a hogshead, and upon this hogs- head was seated a mendicant. This was the king upon his throne. The three vagabonds who held Gringofre led him before the hogshead, and for a moment the whole motley assemblage was silent, excepting the kettle inhabited by the boy. Gringoire durst not breathe nor raise his eyes. + he “Hombre, quita tu sombrero,” said one of the three fel- lows in whoge clutches he was, and, before he knew what was meant, one of the others took off his hat—a shabby covering, it is true, bunt still either againstsunorrain. Gringoire sighed. <0 Xe yarlet have we here?’ asked the king. Grin- goire shuddered. This voice, though it now had a tone of menace, reminded him of another which had that very morning given the first blow to his mystery, by drawling out amidst the andience, “Charity, if you ’’ He raised his eyes. It was Clopin Trouil- please | efou himself, Clopin Trouillefou, invested with the insignia of royalty, had not a rag ens or rag less than usual. The sore on his arm had disappeared. He held in his hand one of the whips composed of thongs of white: leather, which were used by the vergers in those days to keep back the crowd. On his head he wore @ cap of such peculiar form that it was difficult to tell whether it was a child’s biygin ora king’s crown—so much are the two things alike. Gringoire, however, had regained some hope, though without knowing why, on recogniz- ing in the king of the Cour des Miracles the provoking beggar of the great hall. “Master,”” he stammered forth, “my lord—sire— what ought I to call you ?’' he at length asked, havin arrived at the culminating point ot his crescendo, an not knowing how to get higher or. to descend in. | ner Cull me your majesty or comrade, or what thou wilt. But make haste. What hast thou to say in thy defense ?"’ In tiy d ec! thought Gringoire; “I don't half like fhat. It was I~—I—I” he resumed, with the same hesitation as before, “‘ who, this morning’’—— “ By the devil's hoofs!” cried Clopin, interrupting him, ‘‘thy name, knave, and nothing more. Mark me, Thou artin the presence of three mighty sovereigns —myself, Clopin Trouillefou, King of Thiines, and supreme ruler of the realm of Slang; Mathias Hunyadi Spicali, Duke of Egypt and Bohemia, that sallow old crone whom thou seest yonder, with a clout round his head; and Guillaume Rousseau, Emperor of Galilee, the porpoise wlio is too busy with his neigh- bor to attend to us. We are thy judges. Thou hast entered our territories without being one of our sub- jects; thou hast violated the privileges of our city. Thou must be punished, unless thou art a g, @ cad- er, or astroller—or, to use the gibberish those who call’ ‘themselves honest people, # thief, a beggar, or a vagrant. Art thou anyo these ? justify thyself ; state , qualities,’ “ Aue sighéd Gringoire, ‘I have not that bonor. uthor ’’— : ‘"pnough {” exclaimed Trouillefou, without suffering him to peepee . “Thou shalt be hanged. And quite right, too, eurs honest citizens! As you deal by our people among you so we will deal by yours among us. The law which you make for the Vagabonds the my triend, divide thy rags with a good sundry crazy tables were placed here and there at ran- | dom ; for the waiter had not deigned to study geo- | | drink. If thou hast any mummery to make go down care at least that they should not intersect each other | On these tables shone pots | is a harsh one. It is’ but proper that an honest man urace among these wenches. I will have thee hanged to amuse the Vagabonds, and thou. shalt give them thy purse to into the cellar; there is acapital crucifix in stone which we picked up at St. Pierre-aux-Baufs. Thon hast four minutes to settle the affairs of thy soui.’’ This was an alarming announcement, “Well said, upon my lite! Clopin Trouillefou preaches like his holiness tlhe Pope,’’ cried the Emperor of Galilee, breaking his pet to prop up his table. ‘Most puissant emperors and kings,’’ said Gringoire, quite coolly—I never could make how he recovered ‘sufficient firmness to talk so resolutely—‘' you cannot My name is Pierre Gringoire: { am the poet, whose morality was represented this morn- iug in the great hall of the Palace.’’ “Oho! master!’ said Clopin. ‘I was there, too. But, comrade, because we were annoyed by thee in the morning, is that any reason why thou shouldst not be hung to-night ?’’ “T shall be puzzled to get myself out of this scrape, ‘thought Gringoire. He made, nevertheless, another effort. “I do not see,”’ said he, ‘why poets should not be classed among the Vayabonds. Alsop was a vagabond, Homer @ begyar, Merenry a thief.”’ : Clopin interrupted him. “I verily believe thou thinkest to bamboozle us with thy palaver. ‘Sdeath | as thou must be hanged, make no more ado,’’ ‘Pardon me, most illustrious King of Thunes,”’ re- plied Gringoire, disputing the ground inch by inch; “is it worth while—only one moment—you will not condemn me unheard ’"’— | His voice was absolutely drowned by the uproar Which prevailed around him. The little urchin con- tinued to scrape his kettle with greater energy than ever; and, tomend the matter, an old woman had just placed on the red-hot trevet a frying-pan_ full of fat, which yelped and tackled over the fire, like a dog that has been pipe-tailed by a troop of mischievous boys. Clopin ‘Trouillefou appeared to be conferring for a ‘Moment with the Duke of Egypt, and the Emperor of Galilee, who was quite drunk. He then cried out sharply, ‘Silence there |"’ and, as the kettle and the frying-pan paid no attention to him, but continued their duet, he leaped from his hogshead, gave one kick to the kettle, which rolled away with the to the distance ot ten paces, and another to the frying-pan, which upset all the fat into the fire. He then gravely re-ascended his throne, caring no more for the smoth- ered crying of the child than forthe grumbling of the , whose supper had gone offina blaze. . uillefou made a#sign, and the duke, the emperor, and the high dignitaries of the Kingdom of Cant, ranged themselves around him in a semicircle, the Fe of which was occupied by Gringoire, who was still held fast by his captors. It was a semicircle of rags and tatters, and tinsel, of forks and hatchets, of bare brawny arms and legs, of eqpalid, bloated, stupid-looking faces. In the middle of this round-table of ragamuffins Clopin Trouillefou, like the doge of this senate, like the chief of this clan, like the — of this conlave, overawed, in the first place by the whole height of his hogshead, and in the next by a certain haughty, fi ous, and formidable look, which made his eye sparkle, and cor- rected the bestial type of the vadtibend tras in his gay- e profile. You would have taken him for a wild boar a 7 roga pear swine. as ow,’’ said he to Gringoire, stroking his deformed chin with his horny land, ‘I see ne aan why Sone shouldst not be hanged.. Thou seemest, indeed,.to have a dislike to it, but that is natural enongh; you citizens are not used to it. You have too might dea of the thing. After all, we mean thee no harm. There is one way to get out ot the scrape for the moment, Wilt thou be one of us?” pats The reader may conceive what effect this proposition must have produced upon Gringoire, who saw that he had no chance of saying his life, and began to make up his mini to the worst. He caught eagerly at the pro- posed alternative. oa) ‘Certainly, most pow 4 I will,”’ said he, “Thou consentest,” rejoined Clopin, “ to enroll thy- selfamong the men of Slang?” - , ; The men of Slang, decidedly so,” answered Grin- oire. Ne Thou eae thyself one of the crew 2” pro- ceeded the King of the Thunes.; “One ofthe crew.” “A subject of the Kingdom of Cant ?” “Of the Kingdom of Cant.’’ “A Vagabond ?” “A Vagabond.” “With all thy soul ?” ace all my soul.” | “Take notice.”’ said'the king, “ 2 . fod bo hateeae > g, “thou — neverthe abd é e devil!’ cones ned the poet. “Only,” continued Clopin with imperturbable grav- ity, “‘ thou shalt be hanged not quits an soon and a m Poa brome 1 at eR of the good city of Paris, on a fair stone gibbet, and by t , : That is some consolation,” ee men “ As you say,”’ replied Gringoire. “ There are some other advantages which thou wilt enjoy. As one of the crew, thou wilt not have to pay rates, ¢ither for myer, Heats om or poor, to which the honest burgesses of Paris are liable.” ‘Be it so!" said the Boot oe a Vagabond, a subject of the Kingdom ot Cant, one of the craw, a man of Slang, anything you please; na ,.1_was all these before, angust King of’ Thumes, for 1 am a philosopher; -- yy in philosophia omnes in plilosophy continentwr now.” . ~ ee a