PERSONAL AND POLITICAL.
Amongst all Victor Hugo's contemporaries there was no greater admirer of
the poet than Balzac. There mingled with his admiration a feeling which
amounted almost to reverence; and probably the proudest moment in the
novelist's life was that in which he received Hugo at the Jardies. Leon
Grozlan tells us that he awaited his arrival with eagerness; indeed, so
great was his anxiety that he could not remain for an instant in one
place.
These distinguished men of letters were noticeable in their attire,
which was certainly far from Solomon-like in its splendour. 'Balzac was
picturesque in rags. His pantaloons, without braces, receded from his
ample waistcoat _a la financiere_; his shoes, trodden down, receded from
his pantaloons; the knot of his cravat darted its points close to his
ear; his beard was in a state of four days' high vegetation. As to
Victor Hugo, he wore a grey hat of a rather doubtful shade; a faded blue
coat with gilt buttons, and a frayed black cravat, the whole set off by
green spectacles of a shape and form to rejoice a rural bailiff.' During
breakfast, in speaking of literature and the drama, Hugo incidentally
mentioned his large profits as a dramatist. 'Balzac listened with the
air of a martyr listening to an angel, while he heard Hugo recount the
enormous sums which had accrued to him from his magnificent dramas. This
_coup de soleil_ was likely to excite Balzac's brain for a long time to
come.' At that period the author of the _Comedie Humaine_ was a personal
authority on the bitterness of poverty. The talk proceeded to royalty,
to the patronage of talent, and such like matters. Balzac spoke
eloquently upon the lustre which men of genius have shed upon their own
times. 'The pen alone,' he said, 'can save kings and their reigns from
oblivion. Without Virgil, Horace, Livy, Ovid, who would recognise
Augustus in the midst of so many of his name?... Without Shakespeare the
reign of Elizabeth would gradually disappear from the history of
England. Without Boileau, without Racine, without Corneille, without
Pascal, without La Bruyere, without Moliere, Louis XIV., reduced to his
mistresses and his wigs, is but a crowned goat, like the sign of an inn.
Without the pen, Philippe le Roi would leave behind him a name less
known than that of Philippe the eating-house keeper of the Rue
Montorgueil, or of Philippe the famous pilferer and juggler. Some day it
will be said (at least, I hope so, for his Majesty's sake), "Once upon a
time there lived a king called Louis Philippe, who, by the grace of
Victor Hugo, Lamartine, etc."' French rulers were emphatically destined
to live in the pages of Victor Hugo, but in the case of at least one
sovereign it was to be by the immortality of contempt.
At the residence of Hugo in the Place Royale, whither he had moved on
leaving the Rue Jean Goujon, there was a frequent visitor in the person
of one Auguste Vacquerie. This young poetic enthusiast was born at
Villequier, in La Seine Inferieure, in the year 1820. He was educated
first at Rouen, but having an unconquerable longing to see and be near
Victor Hugo, he went to complete his studies at the Pension Favart,
Paris, within a few doors of Hugo's house. In one of his poems he
confessed that though he ardently sighed for Paris, that city meant to
him Hugo and nothing beside--it was the shrine of the poet's fame. Like
his friend Paul Meurice, he lived in the inspiration of Victor Hugo's
name, and the two youths became constant and intimate visitors at the
house in the Place Royale. Vacquerie fell seriously ill, and he was
nursed with all the devotion of a mother by Madame Hugo. After his
recovery, and in acknowledgment of the care bestowed on his son, M.
Vacquerie, senior, invited Madame Hugo to occupy his chateau at
Villequier during the summer vacation. The offer was gladly accepted,
and Madame Hugo and her four children left Paris for Normandy on this
pleasurable excursion. In the course of this visit, Auguste Vacquerie's
brother Charles was introduced to Leopoldine Hugo, and these
impressionable natures at once fell in love. An engagement of no long
duration followed, for the young couple were married in the following
spring of 1843. The wedded life of the poet's daughter was unfortunately
as brief as it was happy and joyous. After a period of five months only
it came to a sad and tragic termination. The catastrophe with which it
closed is thus described: 'The Vacquerie family property at Yillequier
is on the banks of the Seine, which is tidal as far as Rouen; but the
periodical rising of the water was a matter of no uneasiness to the
family, who were accustomed to make excursions almost daily from
Villequier to Caudebec. One of these excursions was arranged for the 4th
of September, when M. Charles Vacquerie, with his wife, his uncle, and
cousin, started to make a trial trip in a large new boat. They all set
out in high spirits upon what was quite an ordinary outing; but a sudden
squall came on, and the boat capsized. Leopoldine had always been taught
that in the event of being upset, the safest thing to do was to cling to
the boat, and accordingly she now instinctively grasped its side amidst
convulsions of alarm; her husband was a good swimmer, and, anxious to
carry her off, did his utmost to make her relax her hold. But all his
efforts were unavailing; in her agony she seemed to have embedded her
finger-nails in the wood; his very attempt to break her fingers proved
ineffectual. He was but a few yards from the shore, but finding it was
impossible to save her, he determined not to survive her, and, taking
her into his embrace, sank with her in the stream. The two bodies were
recovered a few hours afterwards.'
One can well understand the accession of melancholy which would come
over the poet and his wife in consequence of such a disaster as this.
Gloom fell upon the house in the Place Royale, but Victor Hugo found
consolation in the affection of the partner of his youth, whose devotion
had seemed thus far to increase with the lapse of years. Again and again
she animated his lyre, and gave his verse much of its sweetest and
noblest inspiration. She entered fully into his high aspirations, and
received with grace and _bonhomie_ visitors like Lamartine and Madame de
Girardin, who came to exchange the courtesies of friendship and genius.
Victor Hugo was given to silent wanderings by night in the Champs
Elysees and the vicinity, and he has stated that many of his finest
thoughts occurred to him during these midnight walks. On one occasion
this habit nearly proved of serious import to him, for as he was passing
along near the Rue des Tournelles, wrapped in meditation, he was
attacked and knocked down by a band of pickpockets, and would in all
probability have suffered severe injury had not some passers-by caused
his assailants to take precipitate flight. The incident caused no
modification in the poet's custom, for of physical or moral fear he had
scant knowledge.
Notwithstanding his advanced political views in later life, Victor Hugo,
as I have already had occasion to observe, moved forward towards a
republic by gradual stages. He had no faith in the stability of a
government which was merely the result of revolt, and in 1832, when
there appeared considerable danger of insurrectionary bloodshed, he
wrote: 'Some day we shall have a republic, and it will be a good one.
But we must not gather in May the fruit which will only be ripe in
August. We must learn to be patient, and the republic proclaimed by
France will be the crown of our hoary heads.' His political honesty
impressed his contemporaries. Louis Blanc saw a noble unity in his
political progressiveness; and another critic, M. Spuller, in eulogizing
the three great French poets of the nineteenth century, Chateaubriand,
Lamartine, and Hugo, observed that although they were all born outside
the pale of the Revolution, they proved to be the very men to help
forward and to glorify the democracy, Hugo especially being a noble
exponent of the new social truths.
There naturally came a time, therefore, when Hugo desired actual contact
with political life. At first, as I have remarked, he formed the design
of getting returned for the Chamber of Deputies, but this idea had to be
abandoned. Then he was sent for by Louis Philippe. This monarch, though
generally immovable on social and literary questions, and caring little
for the conciliation of the democracy, was much impressed by the power
he recognised in Victor Hugo. Stories are told of interviews, prolonged
into the night, between the King and the poet. The result was that on
the 13th of April, 1845, Hugo was created a peer--an event which was
warmly applauded by the bulk of the people. In taking his seat in the
Upper Chamber the new peer was by profession an independent
Conservative, but there was in him already a large Republican leaven.
His maiden speech was delivered in defence of artists and their
copyright, and this was followed in March, 1846, by a vigorous address
on Poland. As was the case with many other literary men, Victor Hugo
sympathized deeply with the Poles. He denounced the avowed policy of M.
Guizot, that France could do nothing towards re-establishing the Polish
nationality. 'He maintained that it was not a material but a moral
intervention that was required, and that such intervention ought to be
made in the name of European civilization, of which the French were the
missionaries and the Poles the champions. He reminded his audience how
Sobieski had been to Poland what Leonidas had been to Greece, and he
claimed the gratitude and moral support of France for a people who had
done their part in the noble defence of freedom.' But, apart from the
fact that Poland had few friends, the ideas of freedom expounded by Hugo
excited little sympathy in the breasts of the French aristocracy.
In 1847 the new peer showed his catholicity of spirit by supporting the
petition of Prince Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, praying that his family
might be allowed to return to France. His chief arguments were: that the
Chamber would evidence its strength by its generosity; that it was
repugnant to his feelings for any Frenchman to be an exile or an outlaw;
that any pretender must be harmless in the midst of a nation where
there was freedom of work and of thought; and that by mercifulness the
Chamber would consolidate its power with the people. Louis Philippe was
so impressed by these views that he allowed the Bonapartes to return.
That momentous revolutionary year, 1848, did not come upon Victor Hugo
altogether as a surprise. That which astonished him was not the
character, but the strength of the new movement. He had long before seen
that the stability of any French Government would depend upon its
attitude towards the people and the pressing social and political
questions of the time. If a Government ignored, or attempted to crush
the forces which were at work in society, then it was inevitably doomed
to fall before them. He had indulged some hope that the Government of
Louis Philippe would inaugurate an enlightened policy; but it failed to
do this, while it perpetuated abuses which had long been obnoxious. That
which the far-seeing predicted actually occurred; the monarchy was swept
away. Hugo thought for a moment that a compromise might be effected by
constituting the Duchess of Orleans regent; but he speedily saw that
the popular movement was against all Royalty and its forms, and he gave
in his adhesion to the Republic. The Provisional Government having fixed
the elections for the 23rd of April, Hugo was nominated as a candidate
for Paris; but he was unsuccessful. Shortly afterwards, however, he was
returned to the National Assembly, on the occasion of the supplementary
elections rendered necessary in Paris. He took an independent part in
the debates in the Assembly, voting now with the Right and now with the
Left. His socialistic views found expression during the discussion upon
the national factories, which had borne such lamentable results.
'Admitting the necessity which might seem to justify their
establishment, he insisted that practically they had had a most
disastrous influence upon business, and pointed out the serious danger
which they threatened, not alone to the finances, but to the population
of Paris. As a socialist, he addressed himself to socialists, and
invoked them to labour in behalf of the perishing, but to labour without
causing alarm to the world at large; he implored them to bestow upon the
disendowed classes, as they were called, all the benefits of
civilization, to provide them with education, with the means of cheap
living; and, in short, to put them in the way of accumulating wealth
instead of multiplying misery.' From the point of view of the social
reformer, his utterances were wise and conciliatory. During the
sanguinary days of June he went from place to place, striving to avert
bloodshed; and after the outbreak he was instrumental in saving the
lives of several of the insurgents. He advocated mercy, and in the
Assembly proposed that an entire amnesty should be proclaimed. A deputy
rose and embraced him, and with this deputy, who was none other than
Victor Schoelcher, a close friendship was formed. Hugo would have no
part in the proceedings against Louis Blanc, and he declined to assent
to the vote that Cavaignac deserved the gratitude of his country. He
opposed the project of having but one Chamber, and it has been pointed
out that the existence of a second Chamber would in all probability have
saved France from the _Coup d'Etat_. From his place in the Assembly he
spoke strongly in favour of the liberty of the press and of the
abolition of capital punishment. In April, 1848, he started the journal
_L'Evenement_, which had for its motto 'Intense hatred to anarchy,
tender love for the people,' and which included amongst its contributors
Charles Hugo, Paul Meurice, Auguste Vitu, Theophile Gautier, and Auguste
Vacquerie. This journal, which supported the cause of the Revolution,
was for a time, but a brief one only, successful.
In January, 1849, the Constituent Assembly was dissolved, and a
Legislative Assembly summoned in its stead a few months afterwards. Hugo
was elected one of the twenty-eight deputies for Paris, his name
standing tenth on the list. He has left it on record in _Le Droit et la
Loi_ that this year formed an epoch in his life. He became at this time
a thorough Republican. 'An inanimate body was lying on the ground; he
was told that that lifeless thing was the Republic; he drew near and
gazed, and lo! it was Liberty; he bent over it and raised it to his
bosom. Before him might be ruin, insult, banishment, and scorn, but he
took it unto him as a wife! From that moment there existed within his
very soul the union between Liberty and the Republic.' The
uncompromising attitude he now assumed seems to have alarmed some
persons, who charged him with apostasy; but they must have been
superficial students of his career. The poet had long been drifting
towards this end. With the advance in his political views there seems to
have come an expansion in his eloquence; and the tribune witnessed many
impassioned speeches from the deputy--speeches which moved his auditors
to the utmost depths of emotion. When he defended Italy at the time the
French entered Rome--and in doing so strongly attacked the abuses
attendant upon ecclesiastical domination--he incurred the anger of his
former friend Montalembert. Replying to the Comte he said: 'There was a
time when he employed his noble talents better. He defended Poland as
now I defend Italy. I was with him then; he is against me now. The
explanation is not far to seek. He has gone over to the side of the
oppressors: I have remained on the side of the oppressed.'
Presiding at the Peace Congress of Paris, held on the 21st of August,
1849, and addressing Richard Cobden and his fellow-delegates from
various parts of the world, Hugo gave expression to his sanguine
humanitarian sentiments. 'You have come,' he observed to these
representatives of peace, 'to turn over, if it may be, the last and
most august page of the Gospel, the page that ordains peace amongst the
children of the one Creator; and here in this city, which has rejoiced
to proclaim fraternity to its own citizens, you have assembled to
proclaim fraternity to all men.' The orator expressed his conviction
that universal peace was attainable, and at the closing sitting of the
Congress, held on the 24th, the anniversary of St. Bartholomew, he spoke
in this impassioned strain: 'On this very day, 277 years ago, this city
of Paris was aroused in terror amidst the darkness of the night. The
bell, known as the silver bell, chimed from the Palais de Justice, and a
bloody deed, unprecedented in the annals of crime, was perpetrated; and
now, on that self-same date, in that self-same city, God has brought
together into one general concourse the representatives of that old
antagonism, and has bidden them transform their sentiments into
sentiments of love. The sad significance of this mournful anniversary is
removed; each drop of blood is replaced by a ray of light. Well-nigh
beneath the shadow of that tower whence tolled the fatal vespers of St.
Bartholomew, not only Englishmen and Frenchmen, Germans and Italians,
Europeans and Americans, but actually Papists and Huguenots have been
content to meet, happy, nay proud, to unite themselves together in an
embrace alike honourable and indissoluble.' These words excited a
strange fervour and enthusiasm in the audience, and amidst the waving of
hats and handkerchiefs, and other demonstrations of applause, a Roman
Catholic abbe and a Protestant pastor might have been seen embracing,
overcome by the power of the orator's language.
During the debate on the new Education Bill, introduced by M. de Falloux
in January, 1850, Victor Hugo adversely criticized the measure as
placing too much power in the hands of the clergy. He announced that he
should oppose any scheme which entrusted the education of youth to the
clerical party, who were always seeking to fetter the human mind. Church
and State must pursue independent courses. 'Your law,' he exclaimed,
directly addressing the Minister, 'is a law with a mask. It says one
thing, it does another. It may bear the aspect of liberty, but it means
thraldom. It is practically confiscation under the name of a deed of
gift. But it is all one with your usual policy. Every time that you
forge a new chain you cry, "See, here is freedom!"' During the same
session Hugo appealed for mercy for the political criminals, and
condemned the law of transportation, by which they were not only
banished but liable to be shut up in citadels. His speech on this
occasion created such a profound impression that it was afterwards
printed and distributed throughout the country, and a medal was struck
in honour of the orator.
Troublous times were again looming over France. The protestations of
Louis Napoleon that he desired to rank as a patriot only, and not as a
Bonaparte, had been accepted by Victor Hugo, Louis Blanc, and others, in
good faith. In his prison at Ham, he had been visited by several staunch
Republicans, who believed his asseverations that he had no other end in
view than the welfare of France and the consolidation of her liberties.
Indeed, when the exile returned to Paris he sought out Victor Hugo, and
in the most frank and unambiguous language said to him, 'What would it
be for me to be Napoleon over again? Why, it would not simply be an
ambition, it would be a crime. Why should you suppose me a fool? I am
not a great man, and when the Republic is made I shall never follow the
steps of Napoleon. As for me, I am honest; and I shall follow in the way
of Washington.' It never struck the poet that his visitor protested too
much. Upright and sincere himself, he liked to believe in the integrity
of others, and he little dreamt that Louis Napoleon, who had sworn
fidelity to the Constitution, and again and again declared himself bound
by his oath, would in a short time strangle the Republic with his own
hands.
But, alas! it was not long before the poet and his friends were
disillusioned, for, as Proudhon remarked, 'Citizen Bonaparte, who but
yesterday was a mere speck in the fiery heavens, has become an ominous
cloud, bearing storm and tempest in its bosom.' Hugo, seeing what was
advancing, bore himself courageously, and from his place in the tribune
never ceased to advocate the cause of freedom, while he bade the people
repose securely in their own strength. The reactionary policy began with
the curtailment of the liberty of the press, and culminated in the _Coup
d'Etat_ of the 2nd December, 1851. On that date the Legislative Assembly
was dissolved; universal suffrage was established, and Paris was
declared to be in a state of siege. Thiers, Cavaignac, and others were
arrested and sent to the Castle of Vincennes. About 180 members of the
Assembly, with M. Berryer at their head, on endeavouring to meet, were
also arrested, and Paris was occupied by troops. Sanguinary conflicts
ensued between the people and the soldiery, but the troops were
victorious. Napoleon put a pistol at the head of Paris, and ultimately,
by means which will be condemned in history to all ages, the Empire was
established.
Victor Hugo did all in his power for the maintenance of the rights of
the people, but in vain. In the tribune he indignantly inveighed against
the tyranny of Napoleon, and was in consequence placed at the head of
the list of the proscribed. He supported the Committee of Resistance in
their efforts to depose the Prince; but the people were paralyzed by the
display of power, and he was obliged to fly from Paris. A sum of 25,000
francs was offered to anyone who would either kill or arrest him, and so
great was the terror of the populace that no one could be found who
would give the friend of freedom an asylum. At length he secured
temporary shelter beneath the roof of a relation, remaining here until
the 12th of December, when he left Paris, completely disguised, by the
Northern Railway Station. The expatriated poet reached Brussels in
safety, but his sons and the rest of the staff of _L'Evenement_ had been
cast into prison. It was a momentous time for the friends of Victor
Hugo, who were naturally anxious for his safety when so many of the
friends of the Republic had been seized and incarcerated.
In his retreat the great patriot found himself confronted by a new task.
He resolved to compile a history of the infamous events which had driven
him into exile. 'His lashes should reach to the faces of Napoleon and
his acolytes at the Tuileries; he became at once the Tacitus and Juvenal
of his time, only his accents were mightier than theirs, because his
indignation was greater and his wrath more just.' Napoleon had
triumphed, but the scourge was soon to descend which should leave him
exposed to the derision and contempt of the world to the end of time.
The sword is powerful; but the pen, which is the stronger weapon, has
always overtaken it, and adjusted the historical balance in the
interests of humanity.