Jacques the Fatalist: And His Master (25 page)

MARQUIS
: That is what Richard told me. Richard would have taken his vows after two years in the novitiate if his parents had not expressed their opposition. His father insisted that he return to his house and that he should test his vocation by following all the rules of the monastic life at home for a year. And this pact was faithfully carried out on both sides. When he had spent the trial year under the eyes of his family Richard again asked to take his vows. His father said to him: ‘I gave you a year so that you could finally make up your mind and I hope that you will not refuse me one for the same reason. All that I will agree to is that you spend that year wherever you please.’

While waiting for the end of the second period the Abbot of the Order took up Richard and it is during this interval that he became implicated in one of those intrigues which can only ever happen in monasteries.

There was at that time at the head of one of the Houses of the Order a Superior of extraordinary character. He was called
le père Hudson
. Father Hudson had the most attractive features, a large forehead, oval face, aquiline nose, large blue eyes, large handsome cheeks, a generous mouth, fine teeth, the most subtle smile and, on his head, a forest of white hair which added

dignity to the attractiveness of his face. He was a man of intelligence, knowledge and gaiety, dignified in speech and manner, with a love of order and of work, but also a man of the most fiery passions and the most immoderate love of pleasure and women, a consummate genius for intrigue, the most dissolute morals and the most absolute despotism over his own House. When he was given charge of it, the House was blighted by ignorant Jansenism. The studies of the House were neglected, its temporal affairs were in disorder, religious duties were no longer fulfilled, the divine services were celebrated without proper respect and the surplus accommodation was occupied by dissolute lodgers. Father Hudson either won over or sent away the Jansenists, presided personally over the studies of the House, put the temporal affairs in order, reintroduced the monastic rule, expelled the scandalous lodgers and introduced regularity and propriety into the celebration of the divine offices, making his community one of the most edifying. But he himself dispensed with the austerity to which he subjected the others. He was not fool enough to follow this rule of iron under which he held his subordinates, who consequently were moved against Father Hudson with a fury which was all the more violent and dangerous for being secret. Every one of them was his enemy and spied on him. Every one busied himself secretly in order to penetrate the mystery surrounding his conduct. Every

one of them kept his own record of Hudson’s secret depravity. Every one of them was resolved to bring about his downfall. He couldn’t make a move without being followed. He had no sooner planned some intrigue than it was known about. The Abbot of the Order had a house adjoining the monastery. This house had two doors, one of which opened on to the street, the other into the cloister. Hudson had forced the locks and this house had become the retreat for his nocturnal activities and the bed of the Abbot that of his pleasures. It was through this door which led into the street that when night had fallen he would personally bring into the rooms of the Abbey women of every condition. It was here that he would give his delicate supper parties. Hudson had a confessional and he had corrupted every one of his female penitents who was worth the trouble. Among these penitents there was a little confectioner who was well known in the quarter because of her coquettishness and her charms. Since he was not able to go to her house Hudson shut her up in his seraglio. Such an abduction did not take place without arousing the suspicions of her parents and her husband. They came to visit him. Hudson listened to them with an air of dismay. While these good people were explaining their sorrows to him the bell rang. It was six o’clock in the evening. Hudson bade them be silent, took off his hat, stood up,

crossed himself generously and started off in a sincere and vibrant tone ‘
Angelus Domini nuntiavit Mariae
…’, leaving the father and brothers of the little confectioner ashamed of their suspicions to say to the husband as they were on their way down the stairs: ‘My son, you’re an idiot…’; ‘Brother, have you no shame?… A man who says the angelus! A saint!…’

One winter’s evening on his way back to his monastery he was accosted by one of those creatures who solicit passers-by. She seemed pretty. He followed her. Hardly had he gone into her house when the night watch arrived. This incident would have been the undoing of another man but Hudson was a cool customer and the incident won him the friendship and the protection of the Commissioner of Police. When he was brought into his presence this is what he said: ‘My name is Hudson. I am the Superior of my House. When I arrived there everything was in disorder. There was no learning, no discipline, no morals. The spiritual life was neglected to the point of scandal and the neglect of temporal affairs threatened the imminent ruin of the House. I have reformed everything but I am a man and I preferred to address myself to a corrupt woman than to an honest one. You may now do with me what you will.’

The magistrate advised him to be more careful in the future, promised he would say nothing of the incident, and indicated a desire to get to know him better.

However, the enemies he was surrounded by had each individually sent to the General of the Order memoranda in which what they knew of Hudson’s misconduct was exposed. Comparison of these records only increased their strength. The General was a Jansenist and consequently inclined to seek vengeance for the kind of persecution which Hudson had led against adherents of his belief. He would have been only too pleased to extend the reproach against one defender of laxism and the papal bull
Unigenitus
to the whole sect. Consequently he entrusted the different records of the actions and deeds of Hudson to two commissioners whom he secretly sent away to the Abbey with orders to verify these and obtain legally admissible evidence. He instructed them above all to show the greatest circumspection in the way they went about the business since it was the sole means of bringing about the downfall of the guilty party and removing him from the protection of the court and Mirepoix, in whose eyes Jansenism was the greatest of all crimes, and submission to the bull
Unigenitus
was the greatest of all virtues.
⁴⁸
Richard, my secretary, was one of these two investigators. The two men left the novice house and were installed in Hudson’s Abbey, where they secretly set about obtaining information. Before long they had gathered a list of more
crimes than it needed to send fifty monks to the
in pace
.
⁴⁹
Their stay had been a long one but their conduct had been so skilful that nothing had leaked out. Hudson, sly as he was, was nearing the moment of his undoing without the least suspicion. However, the newcomers’ failure to pay court to him, the secrecy of their journey, their frequent discussions with the other monks and their journeys out, sometimes together, sometimes alone, the kind of people they visited and who visited them all caused him some anxiety. He watched them and had them spied on and before long the object of their mission became clear to him. He did not lose his self-assurance but busied himself in finding a way not of escaping the storm which was threatening him but of bringing it down on the heads of the two commissioners, and this is the extraordinary way he went about it.

He had seduced a young girl whom he held hidden in a little lodging in the Saint-Medard quarter. He went straight to her house and this is what he said to her: ‘My child, everything has been discovered and we are lost. Before the week is out you will be locked up and I do not know what will become of me. But do not despair, do not cry, pull yourself together. Listen to me and do what I tell you. Do it well and I will take care of the rest.

‘Tomorrow I am leaving for the country. During my absence go and find two monks whose names I shall give you,’ and he named the two commissioners. ‘Ask to speak to them in secret. When you are alone with them, throw yourself at their feet, beg their help, beseech their impartiality, beg their mediation with the General over whom you know they have so much influence. Cry, sob, tear out your hair, and while you are crying and sobbing and tearing your hair tell them all about us and tell them in the way which will inspire the most commiseration for you and the most horror of me.’

‘What, Monsieur, do you want me to tell them…’

‘Yes, you will tell them who you are, who your family is, that I seduced you, yes, seduced you, in the confessional, abducted you from your parents and shut you away in the house you are in now. Tell them that after having dishonoured you and thrown you into crime I have abandoned you in squalor. Tell them that you do not know what will become of you.’

‘But, Father Hudson…’

‘Either you will do what I have told you and what I am about to tell you or you will bring about your downfall and mine. These two monks will not fail to feel sorry for you, to offer their assistance, and ask for a second meeting which you will consent to. They will make inquiries of you and your parents and, since you will not have told them anything which is not true, they will not become suspicious. After the first and second meeting I will tell you what
you have to do at the third. All that I ask of you is that you play your role well.’

Everything happened as Hudson thought it would. He went away on a second journey and the two commissioners told the girl to come to the monastery. They asked her to tell them her sad story again. While she was telling it to one, the other was taking down notes. They lamented over her misfortune and told her of her parents’ distress, which was only too real, and promised her immunity for herself and prompt vengeance on her seducer but on condition that she would sign a declaration. At first this proposition appeared to revolt her. They insisted. She agreed. All that remained to be decided was the day, the hour and the place where the document could be drawn up, something which needed time and privacy…

‘We can’t do it here: if the Abbot came back and saw me… I wouldn’t dare suggest my house…’

The girl and the two commissioners went their own ways, giving each other time to overcome these difficulties.

The same day Hudson was told of what had happened. He was overjoyed, nearing the moment of his triumph. Soon he would teach these callow youths what kind of man they were dealing with.

‘Take your pen,’ he said to the girl, ‘and arrange a rendezvous with them in the place I will tell you. This place will suit them, I am sure, since it is a respectable house and the woman who occupies it has a very good reputation amongst the other lodgers and in the neighbourhood.’

This woman was, however, one of those secret schemers who pretend to be devout, who insinuate themselves into the best houses, affect a soft, friendly, ingratiating manner and abuse the confidence of mothers and daughters to bring them to dishonour. That was the use Hudson made of her. She was his procuress. But did he tell her or did he not tell her of his secret? That I do not know.

In fact the two envoys of the General accepted the invitation and were there with the young girl. The lady of the house withdrew. They had started taking down the evidence when a loud noise broke out in the house.

‘Messieurs, who do you want?’

‘We want Mme Simion.’ (This was the lady’s name.)

‘You are at her door.’

They knocked loudly on the door.

‘Messieurs,’ the girl asked the monks, ‘shall I answer?’

‘Answer.’

‘Shall I open the door?’

‘Open it.’

The person who had spoken was a Commissioner of Police whom Hudson knew intimately. After all, whom didn’t he know? He had told the man of his peril and told him what part to play.

‘Aha! Aha!’ said the Commissioner of Police, ‘two monks, alone with a prostitute! She’s not bad either.’

The girl was so indecently dressed that it was impossible to be mistaken about her profession or what she could have been doing alone with two monks, the eldest of whom was not yet thirty. They, however, protested their innocence. The Commissioner sneered and passed his hand under the chin of the young girl who had thrown herself at his feet and was begging for mercy.

‘We are in a respectable house,’ said the monks.

‘Yes, yes, a respectable house,’ said the Commissioner.

‘We are here on important business.’

‘We know what important business you had here. Speak, Mademoiselle.’

‘Monsieur, these men are telling you the truth.’

The Commissioner, however, started to speak in his turn and as there was nothing in his report other than the pure and simple exposition of fact the two monks were obliged to sign it. On their way out they passed all the other tenants, who were on the landings outside their apartments. At the door of the house there was a large crowd of people, a carriage and constables of the watch, who put them into the carriage to the booing and shouting of the crowd. They had covered their faces with their cloaks and were deeply distressed.

The perfidious Commissioner shouted: ‘Fathers, tell me, why do you frequent these places and these creatures? But nothing will come of this. I have orders from the authorities to hand you over to your Superior, who is a broad-minded and tolerant man and will not treat this business more severely than it deserves. I do not think that your order behaves in quite the same way as the cruel Franciscans. If it were them you were dealing with, by God I’d feel sorry for you.’

While the Commissioner of Police was speaking to them the coach started on its way back to the monastery. The crowd, which was still growing, surrounded them and people were running as fast as they could in front and behind. This is what they heard:

‘What’s going on?’

‘Those are monks there.’

‘What have they done?’

‘They got caught in a brothel.’

‘Premonstratensians in a brothel!’

‘Yes, they’re poaching the Carmelites’ and the Franciscans’ game.’