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_ On the other hand, he remained as simple as on the first day.
He had gray hair, a serious eye, the sunburned complexion of a laborer,
the thoughtful visage of a philosopher. He habitually wore a hat with
a wide brim, and a long coat of coarse cloth, buttoned to the chin.
He fulfilled his duties as mayor; but, with that exception, he lived
in solitude. He spoke to but few people. He avoided polite attentions;
he escaped quickly; he smiled to relieve himself of the necessity
of talking; he gave, in order to get rid of the necessity for smiling,
The women said of him, "What a good-natured bear!" His pleasure
consisted in strolling in the fields.
He always took his meals alone, with an open book before him,
which he read. He had a well-selected little library. He loved books;
books are cold but safe friends. In proportion as leisure came
to him with fortune, he seemed to take advantage of it to cultivate
his mind. It had been observed that, ever since his arrival
at M. sur M.. his language had grown more polished, more choice,
and more gentle with every passing year. He liked to carry
a gun with him on his strolls, but he rarely made use of it.
When he did happen to do so, his shooting was something so infallible
as to inspire terror. He never killed an inoffensive animal.
He never shot at a little bird.
Although he was no longer young, it was thought that he was still
prodigiously strong. He offered his assistance to any one who was
in need of it, lifted a horse, released a wheel clogged in the mud,
or stopped a runaway bull by the horns. He always had his pockets
full of money when he went out; but they were empty on his return.
When he passed through a village, the ragged brats ran joyously
after him, and surrounded him like a swarm of gnats.
It was thought that he must, in the past, have lived a country life,
since he knew all sorts of useful secrets, which he taught
to the peasants. He taught them how to destroy scurf on wheat,
by sprinkling it and the granary and inundating the cracks in
the floor with a solution of common salt; and how to chase away
weevils by hanging up orviot in bloom everywhere, on the walls
and the ceilings, among the grass and in the houses.
He had "recipes" for exterminating from a field, blight, tares,
foxtail, and all parasitic growths which destroy the wheat.
He defended a rabbit warren against rats, simply by the odor
of a guinea-pig which he placed in it.
One day he saw some country people busily engaged in pulling up nettles;
he examined the plants, which were uprooted and already dried,
and said: "They are dead. Nevertheless, it would be a good thing
to know how to make use of them. When the nettle is young, the leaf
makes an excellent vegetable; when it is older, it has filaments and
fibres like hemp and flax. Nettle cloth is as good as linen cloth.
Chopped up, nettles are good for poultry; pounded, they are good
for horned cattle. The seed of the nettle, mixed with fodder,
gives gloss to the hair of animals; the root, mixed with salt,
produces a beautiful yellow coloring-matter. Moreover, it is an
excellent hay, which can be cut twice. And what is required for
the nettle? A little soil, no care, no culture. Only the seed falls
as it is ripe, and it is difficult to collect it. That is all.
With the exercise of a little care, the nettle could be made useful;
it is neglected and it becomes hurtful. It is exterminated. How many
men resemble the nettle!" He added, after a pause: "Remember this,
my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men.
There are only bad cultivators."
The children loved him because he knew how to make charming little
trifles of straw and cocoanuts.
When he saw the door of a church hung in black, he entered:
he sought out funerals as other men seek christenings. Widowhood and
the grief of others attracted him, because of his great gentleness;
he mingled with the friends clad in mourning, with families
dressed in black, with the priests groaning around a coffin.
He seemed to like to give to his thoughts for text these funereal
psalmodies filled with the vision of the other world. With his eyes
fixed on heaven, he listened with a sort of aspiration towards
all the mysteries of the infinite, those sad voices which sing
on the verge of the obscure abyss of death.
He performed a multitude of good actions, concealing his agency in them
as a man conceals himself because of evil actions. He penetrated
houses privately, at night; he ascended staircases furtively.
A poor wretch on returning to his attic would find that his door
had been opened, sometimes even forced, during his absence.
The poor man made a clamor over it: some malefactor had been there!
He entered, and the first thing he beheld was a piece of gold lying
forgotten on some piece of furniture. The "malefactor" who had been
there was Father Madeleine.
He was affable and sad. The people said: "There is a rich man who has
not a haughty air. There is a happy man who has not a contented air."
Some people maintained that he was a mysterious person, and that no
one ever entered his chamber, which was a regular anchorite's cell,
furnished with winged hour-glasses and enlivened by cross-bones
and skulls of dead men! This was much talked of, so that one
of the elegant and malicious young women of M. sur M. came to him
one day, and asked: "Monsieur le Maire, pray show us your chamber.
It is said to be a grotto." He smiled, and introduced them instantly
into this "grotto." They were well punished for their curiosity.
The room was very simply furnished in mahogany, which was rather ugly,
like all furniture of that sort, and hung with paper worth twelve sous.
They could see nothing remarkable about it, except two candlesticks
of antique pattern which stood on the chimney-piece and appeared
to be silver, "for they were hall-marked," an observation full
of the type of wit of petty towns.
Nevertheless, people continued to say that no one ever got into
the room, and that it was a hermit's cave, a mysterious retreat,
a hole, a tomb.
It was also whispered about that he had "immense" sums deposited
with Laffitte, with this peculiar feature, that they were always
at his immediate disposal, so that, it was added, M. Madeleine could
make his appearance at Laffitte's any morning, sign a receipt,
and carry off his two or three millions in ten minutes. In reality,
"these two or three millions" were reducible, as we have said,
to six hundred and thirty or forty thousand francs. _
Read next: VOLUME I - FANTINE: BOOK FIFTH - THE DESCENT: CHAPTER IV. M. Madeleine in Mourning
Read previous: VOLUME I - FANTINE: BOOK FIFTH - THE DESCENT: CHAPTER II. Madeleine
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