CONSIDERABLE OF A DISTURBANCE IN FONTAINEBLEAU.
It did not take long to get spread about the town that M. Martout and
the Messieurs Renault, intended, in conjunction with several Paris
_savans_, to resuscitate a dead man.
M. Martout had sent a detailed account of the case to the celebrated
Karl Nibor, who had hastened to lay it before the Biological Society. A
committee was forthwith appointed to accompany M. Nibor to
Fontainebleau. The six commissioners and the reporter agreed to leave
Paris the 15th of August,[2] being glad to escape the din of the public
rejoicings. M. Martout was notified to get things ready for the
experiment, which would probably last not less than three days.
Some of the Paris papers announced this great event among their
"Miscellaneous Items," but the public paid little attention to it. The
grand reception of the army returning from Italy engrossed everybody's
interest, and moreover, the French do not put more than moderate faith
in miracles promised in the newspapers.
But at Fontainebleau, it was an entirely different matter. Not only
Monsieur Martout and the Messieurs Renault, but M. Audret, the
architect, M. Bonnivet, the notary, and a dozen other of the bigwigs of
the town, had seen and touched the mummy of the Colonel. They had spoken
about it to their friends, had described it to the best of their
ability, and had recounted its history. Two or three copies of Herr
Meiser's will were circulating from hand to hand. The question of
reanimations was the order of the day; they discussed it around the
fish-pond, like the Academy of Sciences at a full meeting. Even in the
market-place you could have heard them talking about rotifers and
tardigrades.
It must be admitted that the resuscitationists were not in the majority.
A few professors of the college, noted for the paradoxical character of
their minds; a few lovers of the marvellous, who had been duly convicted
of table-tipping; and, to top off with a half dozen of those old
white-moustached grumblers who believe that the death of Napoleon I. is
a calumnious lie set afloat by the English, constituted the whole of the
army. M. Martout had against him not only the skeptics, but the
innumerable crowd of believers, in the bargain. One party turned him to
ridicule, the others proclaimed him revolutionary, dangerous, and an
enemy of the fundamental ideas on which society rests. The minister of
one little church preached, in inuendoes, against the Prometheuses who
aspired to usurp the prerogatives of Heaven. But the rector of the
parish did not hesitate to say, in five or six houses, that the cure of
a man as desperately sick as M. Fougas, would be an evidence of the
power and mercy of God.
The garrison of Fontainebleau was at that time composed of four
squadrons of cuirassiers and the 23d regiment of the line, which had
distinguished itself at Magenta. As soon as it was known in Colonel
Fougas' old regiment that that illustrious officer was possibly going to
return to the world, there was a general sensation. A regiment knows its
history, and the history of the 23d had been that of Fougas from
February, 1811, to November, 1813. All the soldiers had heard read, at
their messes, the following anecdote:
"On the 27th of August, 1813, at the battle of Dresden, the Emperor
noticed a French regiment at the foot of a Russian redoubt which was
pouring grape upon it. He asked what regiment it was, and was told that
it was the 23d of the line. 'That's impossible!' said he. 'The 23d of
the line never stood under fire without rushing upon the artillery
thundering at it.' At that moment the 23d, led by Colonel Fougas, rushed
up the height at double quick, pinned the artillerists to their guns,
and took the redoubt."
The officers and soldiers, justly proud of this memorable action,
venerated, under the name of Fougas, one of the fathers of the regiment.
The idea of seeing him appear in the midst of them, young and living,
did not appear likely, but it was already something to be in possession
of his body. Officers and soldiers decided that he should be interred at
their expense, after the experiments of Doctor Martout were completed.
And to give him a tomb worthy of his glory, they voted an assessment of
two days' pay.
Every one who wore an epaulette visited M. Renault's laboratory; the
Colonel of cuirassiers went there several times--in hopes of meeting
Clementine. But Leon's betrothed kept herself out of the way.
She was happier than any woman had ever been, this pretty little
Clementine. No cloud longer disturbed the serenity of her fair brow.
Free from all anxieties, with a heart opened to Hope, she adored her
dear Leon, and passed her days in telling him so. She herself had
pressed the publication of the bans.
"We will be married," said she, "the day after the resuscitation of the
Colonel. I intend that he shall give me away, I want him to bless me.
That is certainly the least he can do for me, after all I have done for
him. It is certain that, but for my opposition, you would have sent him
to the museum of the _Jardin des Plantes_. I will tell him all this,
Sir, as soon as he can understand us, and he will cut _your_ ears off,
in _his_ turn! I love you!"
"But," answered Leon, "why do you make my happiness dependent on the
success of an experiment? All the usual formalities are executed, the
publications made, the notices given: no one in the world can prevent
our marrying to-morrow, and you are pleased to wait until the 19th! What
connection is there between us and this desiccated gentleman asleep in
his box? He doesn't belong to your family or mine. I have examined all
your family records back to the sixth generation, and I haven't found
anybody of the name of Fougas in them. So we are not waiting for a
grandfather to be present at the ceremony. Who is he, then? The wicked
tongues of Fontainebleau pretend that you have a _penchant_ for this
fetich of 1813; as for me, who am sure of your heart, I trust that you
will never love any one as well as me. However they call me the rival of
the Sleeping Colonel in the Wood."
"Let the fools prate!" responded Clementine, with an angelic smile. "I
do not trouble myself to explain my affection for poor Fougas, but I
love him very much, that's certain. I love him as a father, as a
brother, if you prefer it, for he is almost as young as I. When we have
resuscitated him, I will love him, perhaps, as a son; but you will lose
nothing by it, dear Leon. You have in my heart a place by itself, the
best too, and no one shall take it from you, not even _he_."
This lovers' quarrel, which often began, and always ended with a kiss,
was one day interrupted by a visit from the commissioner of police.
This honorable functionary politely declined to give his name and
business, and requested the favor of a private interview with young
Renault.
"Monsieur," said he, when he saw him alone, "I appreciate all the
consideration due to a man of your character and position, and I hope
you will see fit not to interpret unpleasantly a proceeding which is
prompted in me by a sense of duty."
Leon opened his eyes and waited for the continuation of the discourse.
"You are aware, Monsieur," pursued the Commissioner, "of what is
required by the law concerning interments. It is express, and admits no
exception. The authorities can keep their eyes shut, but the great
tumult that has arisen, and, moreover, the rank of the deceased, without
taking into account the religious considerations, put us under
obligation to proceed ... in conjunction with you, let it be well
understood...."
Leon comprehended little by little. The commissioner finished by
explaining to him, always in the administrative style, that it was
incumbent upon him to have M. Fougas taken to the town cemetery.
"But Monsieur," replied the engineer, "if you have heard people speaking
of Colonel Fougas, they ought to have told you withal that we do not
consider him dead."
"Nonsense!" answered the Commissioner, with a slight smile. "Opinions
are free. But the doctor whose office it is to attend to the
disposition of the dead, and who has had the pleasure of seeing the
deceased, has made us a conclusive report which points to immediate
interment."
"Very well, Monsieur, if Fougas is dead, we are in hopes of
resuscitating him."
"So we have been told already Monsieur, but, for my part, I hesitated to
believe it."
"You will believe it when you have seen it; and I hope, Monsieur, that
that will be before long."
"But then, Monsieur, have you fixed everything in due form?"
"With whom?"
"I do not know, Monsieur, but I suppose that before undertaking such a
thing as this, you have fortified yourself with some legal
authorization."
"From whom?"
"But at all events, Monsieur, you admit that the reanimation of a man is
an extraordinary affair. As for myself, this is really the first time
that I ever heard it spoken of. Now the duty of a well regulated police,
is to prevent anything extraordinary happening in the country."
"Let us see, Monsieur. If I were to say to you: 'Here is a man who is
not dead; I have a well-founded hope of setting him on his feet in three
days; your doctor, who maintains the contrary, deceives himself,' would
you take the responsibility of having Fougas buried?"
"Certainly not! God forbid that I should take any responsibility of any
kind on my shoulders! But however, Monsieur, in having M. Fougas buried,
I would act in accordance with law and order. Now after all, by what
right do you presume to resuscitate a man? In what country is
resuscitation customary? Where is the precept of law which authorizes
you to resuscitate people?"
"Do you know any law that prohibits it? Now everything that is not
prohibited is permitted."
"In the eyes of the magistrates, very likely. But the police ought to
prevent and stem disorder. Now a resuscitation, Monsieur, is a thing so
unheard of as to constitute an actual disorder."
"You will admit, nevertheless, that it is a very happy disorder."
"There's no such thing as a happy disorder. Consider, morever, that the
deceased is not a common sort of a man. If the question concerned a
vagabond without house or home, one could use some tolerance in regard
to it. But this is a soldier, an officer, of high rank and decorated
too; a man who has occupied an exalted position in the army. The _army_,
Monsieur! It will not do to touch the army!"
"Eh! Monsieur, I touch the army like a surgeon who tends its wounds. It
is proposed to restore to the army a colonel. And you, actuated by the
spirit of routine, wish to rob it of one."
"Don't get so excited, Monsieur, I beg of you, and don't talk so loud:
people can hear us. Believe me, I will meet you half way in anything you
want to do for the great and glorious army of my country. But have you
considered the religious question?"
"What religious question?"
"To tell you the truth, Monsieur (but this entirely between ourselves),
what we have spoken of so far is purely accessory and we are now
touching upon the delicate point. People have come to see me and have
made some very judicious remarks to me. The mere announcement of your
project has cast a good deal of trouble into certain consciences. They
fear that the success of an undertaking of this kind may strike a blow
at the faith, may, in a word, scandalize many tranquil spirits. For, if
M. Fougas is dead, of course it is because God has so willed it. Aren't
you afraid of acting contrary to the will of God, in resuscitating him?"
"No, Monsieur: for I am sure not to resuscitate Fougas if God has willed
it otherwise; God permits a man to catch the fever, but God also permits
a doctor to cure him. God permitted a brave soldier of the Emperor to be
captured by four drunken Russians, condemned as a spy, frozen in a
fortress and desiccated under an air-pump by an old German. But God also
permitted me to find this unfortunate man in a junk-shop, to carry him
to Fontainebleau, to examine him with certain men of science and to
agree with them upon a method almost sure to restore him to life. All
this proves one thing--which is that God is more just, more merciful and
more inclined to pity than those who abuse his name in order to excite
you."
"I assure you, Monsieur, that I am not in the least excited. I yield to
your reasons because they are good ones and because you are a man of
consideration in the community. I sincerely hope, moreover, that you
will not think harshly of an act of zeal which I have been advised to
perform. I am a functionary, Monsieur. Now, what is a functionary? A man
who holds a place. Suppose now that functionaries were to expose
themselves to the loss of their places, what would stand firm in France?
Nothing, Monsieur, absolutely nothing. I have the honor to bid you good
day!"
On the morning of the 15th of August, M. Karl Nibor presented himself at
M. Renault's with Doctor Martont and the committee appointed by the
Biological Society of Paris. As often happens in the rural districts the
first appearance of our illustrious savant was a sort of disappointment.
Mme. Renault expected to see, if not a magician in a velvet robe studded
with gold, at least an old man of extraordinarily grave and impressive
appearance. Karl Nibor is a man of middle height, very fair and very
slight. Possibly he carries a good forty years, but one would not credit
him with more than thirty-five. He wears a moustache and imperial; is
lively, a good conversationist, agreeable and enough of a man of the
world to amuse the ladies. But Clementine did not have the pleasure of
his conversation. Her aunt had taken her to Moret in order to remove her
from the pangs of fear as well as from the intoxications of victory.