THE POET IN EXILE.
In Brussels Victor Hugo came upon friends, amongst them being the
novelist, Alexandre Dumas. The latter was living in this city because he
was the better able to pursue his literary work there, undistracted by
the myriad claims which such a centre as Paris presents. He had never
mixed ardently in politics, but he was so chagrined at the banishment of
Hugo that he chivalrously resolved never to visit Louis Napoleon or the
Tuileries again; and he resolutely adhered to this decision. Victor
Schoelcher followed Hugo to Brussels, having escaped from his pursuers
in the disguise of a priest. Towards the close of December, 1851, the
poet began to write his stirring narrative, _L'Histoire d'un Crime_, and
the work was completed by the following May. It was not published until
1877, and I shall make some references to it in a later chapter. Amongst
other exiles in Brussels were the ill-assorted couple Emile de Girardin
and General Lamoriciere. But Belgium also sheltered in this hour of
peril Ledru Rollin, the sculptor David, Barbes, Louis Blanc, Edgar
Quinet, and Eugene Sue. Indeed, many of the finest and choicest spirits
of France had been driven from their native soil.
The sons of Victor Hugo joined their father in January, 1852, and the
poet determined to remain in Brussels so long as Napoleon III. reigned
at the Tuileries. Fate, nevertheless, decreed otherwise. The Belgian
Government, though favourable to Hugo, was still more anxious to
maintain friendly relations with the new French Empire. Victor Hugo soon
made it impossible, however, for the Belgian rulers to run with the hare
and hunt with the hounds. The publication of his _Napoleon le Petit_
fell like a thunderbolt over both Paris and Brussels. That scathing work
made the Dictator writhe amid the splendours of his palace. It was
charged with wit, pathos, sarcasm, and invective. Amongst the many
personal passages denunciatory of Louis Napoleon was the following: 'He
will never be other than the nocturnal strangler of liberty; he will
never be other than the man who has intoxicated his soldiers, not with
glory, like the first Napoleon, but with wine; he will never be other
than the pigmy tyrant of a great people. Grandeur, even in infamy, is
utterly inconsistent with the character and calibre of the man. As
Dictator, he is a buffoon; let him make himself Emperor, he would be
grotesque. That would at once put an end to him. His destiny is to make
mankind shrug their shoulders. Will he be less severely punished for
that reason? Not at all: contempt does not in his case mitigate anger.
He will be hideous, and he will remain ridiculous. That's all. History
laughs, and crushes. What would you have the historian do with this
fellow? He can only lead him to posterity by the ear. The man once
stripped of success, the pedestal removed, the dust fallen, the lace and
spangles and the great sabre taken away, the poor little skeleton laid
bare and shivering--can anyone imagine anything meaner and more
miserable?' This powerful satire closed with a vision of vengeance: 'You
do not perceive that the 2nd of December is nothing but an immense
illusion, a pause, a stop, a sort of working curtain, behind which the
Deity, that marvellous machinist, is preparing and constructing the last
act, the final and triumphant scene of the French Revolution! You look
stupefied upon the curtain, upon the things painted upon the coarse
canvas, this one's nose, that one's epaulettes, the great sabre of a
third, those embroidered vendors of _eau-de-Cologne_ whom you call
generals, those _poussahs_ that you call magistrates, those worthy men
that you call senators, this mixture of caricatures and spectres--and
you take them all for realities. You do not hear yonder in the shade
that hollow sound! You do not hear some one going backwards and
forwards! You do not see that curtain shaken by the breath of Him who is
behind!'
The excitement caused by this work proved too much for the Belgian
Government, and, desirous of keeping well with Napoleon III., it
reluctantly decided that the author must be expelled. As there was no
law bearing upon Hugo's case, the Belgian Chamber passed one to meet it,
and Hugo was cast out from what he deemed to be a secure asylum. He
embarked for England, but only on his way to Jersey, which he had
decided upon as his next place of habitation. He landed at St. Helier on
the 5th of August, 1852, and was received by a body of French
compatriots and exiles.
Hugo was now somewhat straitened in means, as he derived nothing from
his dramas and his various works. From his very ability and genius, he
was singled out as a special object of disapprobation on the part of the
French rulers. The poet first settled down in a small house on the
Marine Terrace, and the money he received from the sale of his effects
in Paris was a very welcome addition to his small store. But he had
passed through too many periods of hardship and vicissitude to repine
over these altered circumstances--he rather rejoiced to suffer for
conscience' sake. He now gave himself up to intellectual labour, and
found much happiness in his leisure hours in the bosom of his family,
every member of which was deeply attached to him; and in the interchange
of affectionate confidences with his intimate friends, Vacquerie, Paul
Meurice, and others. He was treated with great distinction by the
islanders, not (as he himself said) because he was Victor Hugo the poet,
but because he was a peer of France. In consequence of his rank,
observes one writer, 'he enjoyed certain privileges, one of which was
that he was exempt from the obligation of sweeping his doorstep and
clearing away the grass from the front of his house!' But he was obliged
to supply the suzerain of the Duchy of Normandy with two fowls every
year, a tax that was religiously exacted from 'his lordship.'
Yet even in the little island home of their adoption the exiles were not
permitted to rest in peace. Spies were sent amongst them, who
endeavoured to gather evidence of sedition, and although Jersey had its
own laws, as Napoleon was now the ally of England the situation was not
without its dangers. One Imperial spy, named Hubert, was discovered; and
when the exiles determined that he should die for his treachery, Hugo,
with his usual large-hearted magnanimity, came forward and saved his
life.
Another terrible denunciation of Napoleon and his satellites was penned
by Hugo during his stay in Jersey. _Les Chatiments_, this new satire,
was even more powerful and telling than _Napoleon le Petit_. Its verse
burned with indignation. The poet spared no one who was in any degree
responsible for the crime of the 2nd December. 'Sometimes he is full of
pity for the victims of the dastardly aggression, pouring out his
sympathy for those whom the convict-ships were conveying to the deadly
climates of Cayenne and Lambessa, to receive for political offences the
fate of the worst of felons; sometimes he sounds forth their virtues in
brilliant strophes; and sometimes he rises into grandeur as he scourges
the great men of the Second Empire, whilst at others he uses the lash of
satire, and depicts them all as circus grooms and mountebanks. Page
after page seems to bind his victim to an eternal pillory.' The work
showed, in its various divisions, how society was 'saved,' order
re-established, the dynasty restored, religion glorified, authority
consecrated, stability assured, and the deliverers themselves delivered.
It was first published in Brussels, but only in a mutilated form, the
Belgian Government dreading the effects of some of its bitter attacks
upon the ruler of France. In vain the poet protested against this
infringement of liberty. A complete edition of the work, however, soon
appeared at St. Helier, and it speedily got into circulation in all the
European capitals, ingeniously defying every effort to suppress it. 'The
more it was hunted down the more thoroughly it penetrated France. It
had as many disguises as an outlaw. Sometimes it was enclosed in a
sardine-box, or rolled up in a hank of wool; sometimes it crossed the
frontier entire, sometimes in fragments; concealed occasionally in
plaster busts or clocks, laid in the folds of ladies' dresses, or even
sewn in between the double soles of men's boots.'
Matters were thus rendered righteously unpleasant for Napoleon, who
dreaded these attacks upon his person and power. A man of genius
fighting for liberty is sometimes stronger than a throne; and it was
possible that this might be the issue between the poet and the Dictator.
The work brought no profit to its author, but he had the far higher
reward of seeing it carry terror into the midst of the Tuileries, while
it at the same time stirred the slumbering conscience of the French
nation. For two or three years the Jersey exiles remained unmolested,
but Napoleon, feeling insecure, determined that they should 'move on.'
Victor Hugo on several occasions delivered funeral orations over
departed patriots. He never spared the French rulers, and invariably
expressed sympathy with 'the heartrending cry of humanity which made
the crowned criminal turn pale upon his throne.'
At the obsequies of one Felix Bony, who had been a victim of Imperial
tyranny, the poet referred to the British alliance with the Emperor of
the French as a degradation to England. Upon this, Sir Robert Peel
intimated in the House of Commons that he should feel it his duty to put
an end to this kind of language on the part of French refugees as soon
as possible. Ribeyrolles, the editor of _L'Homme_, the French newspaper
in Jersey, retorted that England was England no longer, and Victor Hugo
returned the following answer: 'M. Bonaparte has driven me from France
because I have acted on my rights as a citizen, and as a representative
of the people; he has driven me from Belgium because I have written
_Napoleon le Petit_, and he will probably drive me from England because
of the protests that I have made and shall continue to make. Be it so.
That concerns England more than it concerns me. America is open to me,
and America is sufficiently after my heart. But I warn him, that whether
it be from France, from Belgium, from England, or from America, my voice
shall never cease to declare that sooner or later he will have to
expiate the crime of the 2nd of December. What is said is true: there
_is_ a personal quarrel between him and me; there is the old quarrel of
the judge upon the bench and the prisoner at the bar.'
The tension became too great when Felix Pyat published in _L'Homme_ a
'Letter to Queen Victoria,' commenting in sarcastic but foolish terms
upon her Majesty's visit to the Emperor and Empress of the French. Some
of the personal portions of the pamphlet affecting the Queen were
perfectly unjustifiable, and the result was a serious agitation in
Jersey for the expulsion of the exiles. At one moment their lives were
in danger. Hugo confessed that he did not care for this, but he should
greatly regret the destruction of his manuscripts. His compositions,
which represented thirty years' labour, and included _Les
Contemplations_, _La Legende des Siecles_, and the first portion of _Les
Miserables_, were accordingly secured in a strong iron-bound chest.
Madame Hugo, though warned of her danger, resolutely remained by the
side of her husband.
The conductors of _L'Homme_ were at once expelled from Jersey, whereupon
Victor Hugo drew up a protest on behalf of the exiles. 'The _Coup
d'Etat_,' said this document, 'has penetrated into English liberty.
England has reached this point that she now banishes exiles.' It then
went onto inveigh against the crimes of 'treason, perjury, spoliation,
and murder,' committed by Napoleon III., for which he had been legally
condemned by the French Court of Assize, and morally by the bulk of the
English press. The protest received thirty-seven signatures, amongst
them being those of Louis Blanc and Victor Schoelcher. After a period
of uncertainty, the English Government consented to the expulsion of the
refugees.
On the 27th of October, 1855, the news was communicated to Victor Hugo
that he must quit the island by the 2nd of November. The poet said to
the constable of St. Clement, the bearer of the tidings, 'I do not await
the expiration of the respite that is given me. I hasten to quit a land
where honour has no place, and which burns my feet.' After paying a
farewell visit to the graves of their dead comrades, the exiles
dispersed, leaving Jersey for various destinations; and on the 31st of
October, Hugo and his family embarked for Guernsey.