IN GUERNSEY.--'LES MISERABLES.'
Though harassed in mind and in person, Victor Hugo had reserved to
himself, during his troubled stay in Jersey, leisure in which to devote
himself to the Muses pure and simple. As the result of these periods of
meditation, there appeared in Paris in 1856 _Les Contemplations_. This
work, which speedily went through several editions, was the lyrical
record of twenty-five years. According to the author himself, it holds,
more than any other of the numerous collections of his poetry, 'as in a
rocky chalice, the gathered waters of his life.' And, again, he observed
that 'the author has allowed this book to form itself, so to speak,
within him. Life, filtering drop by drop, through events and sufferings,
has deposited it in his heart.'
Divided into two parts, the earlier division of the work dealt with
other times, the second with 'to-day.' From the trials and the joys
through which the poet had passed he endeavoured to extract the
philosophy of life. Everything is tinged with deep feeling, for it would
be superfluous to say that Hugo was ever the subject of profound
emotions. He felt more deeply and strongly than other men, and this
gives that intense personal realism to his work which distinguished it
from the first recorded utterance to the last. Virulently attacked in
some quarters, this series of poems was as warmly welcomed in others.
With the public it found ready favour, and speedily ran through numerous
editions. It may safely be affirmed that criticism which is merely
captious has never yet permanently injured any work. Wherever there is
genius, it will force its way through such obstacles, and find an honest
public appreciation. If Hugo had not himself had faith in the poetic
seed in such works as _Les Contemplations_, he must have despaired; but
with that egotism of talent which is never offensive, he left his work
confidently to the judgment of minds which could think and souls which
could feel. Of that gigantic work, _La Legende des Siecles_, the first
part of which appeared in 1859, I shall speak in greater detail when
referring to its completion.
Expelled from Jersey, the poet found a home in Guernsey; for although
the islands are geographically near, the sentiments of the islanders
differed greatly on the subject of political refugees. At Hauteville
House, which, as its name implies, occupied a commanding elevation,
Victor Hugo found a home which is now peculiarly linked with his name.
The re-arrangement of the place was a work of time. Writing to Jules
Janin, Hugo announced his getting into new quarters: 'England has hardly
been a better guardian of my fireside than France. My poor fireside!
France broke it up, Belgium broke it up, Jersey broke it up; and now I
am beginning, with all the patience of an ant, to build it up anew. If
ever I am driven away again I shall turn to England, and see whether
that worthy prude Albion can help me to find myself _at home_.... I have
taken a house in Guernsey. It has three stories, a flat roof, a fine
flight of steps, a courtyard, a crypt, and a look-out; but it is all
being paid for by the proceeds of _Les Contemplations_.'
Innumerable are the pilgrimages which have been made to Hauteville
House, with consequent descriptions of the residence. A brief sketch of
the leading features of the poet's home, for which I am indebted to an
account written by one of such visitors, will not be unacceptable.
Hauteville House, which overlooks the city and fort beneath, and
commands a vast expanse of sea, is likewise famed for its interior
treasures. The visitor finds carvings of the Renaissance and the Middle
Ages, and porcelain, enamels, and glass, the work of Venetian and
Florentine masters. Entering the house by a vestibule, there is first
perceived on the upper lintel a _basso-relievo_ representing the chief
subject in _Notre-Dame de Paris_. On the right and left, in carved oak,
are two medallions, by David, of Victor Hugo and his second daughter. A
fine Renaissance column supports the whole. Passing on, the monumental
door of the dining-room is reached. Upon one of the panels is written
'Love and Believe;' and over one of the doors, and below a statuette of
the Virgin, is the word of welcome to the visitor, '_Ave_.' In the
billiard-saloon are hung the poet's designs, framed in varnished fir. To
his other evidences of ability Hugo adds that of a graphic artist. Many
of his sketches have a breadth and power which strongly recall the
pencil of Rembrandt, though in the matter of drawing and some other
points they will not, of course, sustain comparison with the work of
that wonderful master.
The tapestry-parlour is an apartment of special interest, the
mantelpiece particularly fixing the attention. Imagine a cathedral of
carved oak, which, rising vigorously from the floor, springs up to the
ceiling, where its upper carving touches the tapestry. The doorway
corresponds to the fireplace; the rosace is a convex mirror, placed
above the mantelpiece; the central gable is a firm entablature covered
with fantastic foliage, and decorated by arches of exquisite taste, in
which the Byzantine mingles with the rococo; the two towers are two
counterforts, which repeat all the ornamentation of the entire mass. The
coping, very imposing in its effect, recalls the fronts of the houses in
Antwerp and Bruges. A face appears amid the woodwork, vigorously thrown
out. It is that of a bishop, whose crosier alone is gilded. On each side
of it is a shield, with the witty motto:
'Crosier of wood, bishop of gold:
Crosier of gold, bishop of wood.'
On two scrolls, representing rolled parchment, are inscribed the names
of those whom Victor Hugo looks upon as the principal poets of
humanity--Job, Isaiah, Homer, AEschylus, Lucretius, Dante, Shakespeare,
Moliere. On the opposite side are the names of Moses, Socrates, Christ,
Columbus, Luther, Washington. Two oaken statues lean from the double
entablature of the chimney-piece. One represents St. Paul reading, with
an inscription on the pedestal--'The Book;' the other shows a monk in
ecstasy, with his eyes uplifted, and on the pedestal is written
'Heaven.' The working-room contains another fine monumental piece of
work, bearing a motto taken from the fourth act of _Hernani_, '_Ad
augusta per angusta_.' The dining-room walls are covered with splendid
Dutch delf of the seventeenth century, and the room has also a
magnificent mirror and a piece of Gobelin tapestry representing the
riches of Summer. Vases and statuettes are to be met with everywhere;
and on panels are carved various legends--'Man,' 'God,' 'My country,'
'Life is exile.' An armchair of carved oak, which was regarded by the
poet as the ancestral seat at his table, is closed by a chain, and
bears the inscription, 'The absent are here.' The galleries and rooms
of the first story are likewise rich in Renaissance work, and in Chinese
and Japanese treasures. The Oak Gallery, which is a kind of
guest-chamber, has six windows looking out upon Fort St. George, which
distribute the light through a perfect forest of carved oak. The
mantelpiece--a marvellous piece of work, represents the sacrifice of
Isaac. A state bed and a massive candelabrum in oak, surmounted by a
figure carved by Victor Hugo, are also noticeable objects; but they are
almost eclipsed by the splendid door of entrance, which, as seen from
the interior, is as brilliant as a church window. Two spiral columns
sustain a pediment of oak with Renaissance grotesques, surrounded by
arabesques and monsters; it advances with two folds, which are
resplendent with paintings, among which are eight large figures of the
martyrs, attired in gold and purple, the principal being St. Peter.
There is inscribed on the lintel, '_Surge, perge_,' and close by the
words of Lucan, 'The conquerors have the gods, with the conquered Cato
remains.' There are also numerous maxims, poetic and otherwise. Hugo's
own room was the look-out--a little belvedere open in all directions,
but very small in extent. It contains the poet's writing-table and an
iron bed. Whether regarded from the point of view of its noble
situation, or from that of the artistic treasures which find a lodgment
in its interior, Hauteville House is a place to inspire a poet of a far
less expansive imagination than Victor Hugo.
While the author of _Notre-Dame_ pursued his studies and compositions in
the belvedere, the other inmates of Hauteville House were generally
engaged in a variety of pursuits beneath. The elder son, Charles,
devoted himself to the writing of dramas and romances, while the second
son, Victor Francois, undertook with much spirit and success a
translation of Shakespeare. Adele, the one daughter now remaining,
composed music; Auguste Vacquerie plunged into a series of curious
literary studies, which resulted in the production of _Les Mielles de
l'Histoire_ and _Profils et Grimaces_; and Madame Victor Hugo busied
herself in collecting notes for her husband's _Life_. Unfortunately,
owing to her death, her task was never completed, a portion only of her
labour of love seeing the light in 1863. The whole family ever
cordially welcomed any Frenchmen who sought a refuge at Hauteville
House, and Gerard de Nerval, Balzac, and many others occupied in turns a
room specially set apart for the use of such visitors.
Two or three years after Hugo established himself in Guernsey, an
amnesty was announced by the Emperor of the French. The proclamation was
dated the 15th of August, 1859. The poet refused to avail himself of the
act of grace, and in conjunction with Louis Blanc, Edgar Quinet, and
others, replied to the Imperial pardon by a counter manifesto. He was
blamed by some for this step, it being urged that it was his duty to
return to France during the days of the Second Empire, and to use every
effort to procure that amelioration of the condition of the people, and
the fruition of their hopes, which he and other patriots desired. But
Victor Hugo was very depressed at this time, and saw little prospect of
the realization of his own aspirations and of those who felt and acted
with him. But an idea of the vast personal influence attributed to the
poet may be gathered from such language as the following which was used
concerning him at this time: 'Had Victor Hugo stood forward, as he was
morally bound to do, the fatal day of Sadowa might never have happened,
the disastrous Ministry of M. Emile Ollivier would have been impossible,
and France could have been spared the overwhelming ruin which fell upon
her when absolutely abandoned to the counsels and government of the
feeblest mediocrity.' It is impossible, of course, to say that these
sanguine expectations would have been justified; but they will at least
serve to show the high esteem in which the poet was held, and the weight
attached to his individual will and example.
Another epoch in the literary career of Victor Hugo was reached in 1862
by the publication of the celebrated romance, _Les Miserables_. This
work had been begun many years before, and was to have been published in
1848. Its original conception was vastly extended in course of time,
until what was at first meant to occupy only two octavo volumes
ultimately spread over ten. The work appeared simultaneously in Paris,
London, Brussels, New York, Madrid, Berlin, Turin, St. Petersburg,
Leipzig, Milan, Rotterdam, Warsaw, Pesth, and Rio de Janeiro. The first
Paris edition amounted to 15,000 copies, the first Brussels edition to
12,000, and the first Leipzig edition to 3,000. No fewer than 150,000
copies were sold in one year, and altogether, in various forms and
editions, more than three times this immense number of copies were
disposed of. The book was found everywhere, from the Steppes of Russia
to the battlefields of the United States, where it solaced many a
soldier during the Civil War.
This stupendous work is divided into five parts, entitled respectively
'Fantine,' 'Cosette,' 'Marius,' 'L'Idylle Rue Plumet et l'Epopee Rue St.
Denis,' and 'Jean Valjean.' Each of these parts consists of eight or
more books, which are again divided into chapters. It was complained
that the book was partly the offspring of a poet, and partly the
offspring of a social philosopher, and that while the poetry was noble
the philosophy was detestable. At the same time it was admitted that the
writer had stamped upon every page the hall-mark of genius, and the
loving patience and conscientious labour of a true artist. The romance
opens with a finely-sketched portrait of a worthy bishop, called by the
people Monseigneur Bienvenu, a noble creation, which surprised those
who looked upon Hugo merely as a curser of the Church and all its works.
A scene of strong dramatic power occurs in Chapter X., which deals with
an interview between the bishop and a dying conventionnel, who had all
but voted for the death of the King. Victor Hugo's unequalled command of
language and his terse and vigorous emphasis come here into full play.
'All French writers of mark,' says a writer in the _Quarterly Review_,
'are divisible into two schools; the one is characterized by the polish
and smoothness to which the romance element is carried in a Racine, or,
in more modern times, a Lamartine; the other is full of a _viel esprit
Gaulois_, a Moliere or a La Fontaine. For this rugged force of speech,
all knots, the bark still on, M. Hugo is very remarkable. The terseness
with which he throws into a word the compressed power which a feebler
but more elegant writer would draw out into a whole sentence, indicates
an amount of genius which belongs only to the kinglier spirits of an
age, and which in French literature has only been matched by Rabelais,
in Italian by Dante.'
The real hero of the story is Jean Valjean, the son of a woodcutter of
Faverolles. Losing his father and mother when a child, he grew up to
carry on the former's craft, supporting thereby an elder sister (left a
widow) and her seven children. One night, in that terrible year of
famine, 1795, Jean Valjean broke into a baker's shop to steal a loaf for
the starving children at home. He was arrested for the theft, and
condemned to five years at the galleys. Frequent attempts to escape
added fourteen years more to his punishment. At length, after nineteen
years, he was liberated; but, while now free, his lot was as hard as
though he were still in confinement. No one will recognise or aid this
pariah of civilization, and he enters the episcopal town of D---- in
despair. The good bishop alone will receive the outcast, and he
entertains him, and has a bed provided for him. In the middle of the
night Valjean is overcome by wild impulses. He steals the spoons from
the cupboard over the bed of the sleeping bishop, and escapes through
the garden. In the morning he is caught and brought back, but the bishop
only heaps coals of fire upon his head in return for his perfidy.
Valjean is allowed to go out into the world, but there is a terrible
struggle between the good and the evil nature within him. The
psychological power of this part of the novel is marvellous. The
conflict between right and wrong is renewed periodically in Valjean's
breast all through the romance, and it is the influence of the Christian
bishop which prevents the miserable man from becoming dead to all his
better instincts. The third book of the first part is devoted to the
episode of Fantine, an unhappy being who is more sinned against than
sinning, and whose sorrows are vividly and painfully described, with
some few delicate lights thrown in upon child-life. A striking portrait
of Javert, a severe French _agent de police_, testifies once more to
Victor Hugo's power of human analysis; but the most thrilling scenes
still centre round Valjean. The ex-convict becomes a respectable
provincial mayor under an assumed name, and when a man is arrested in
his old name of Valjean, after a tremendous struggle, in which he sees
the dead bishop calling upon him to be true to his conscience, he
resolves to deliver himself up and save the innocent man. I cannot
follow all the ramifications of this extraordinary work, which
absolutely teems with exciting incidents, all graphically told, and
having for their central and cardinal motive the trials of Valjean and
the revolt against society. In the last volume we have the marriage of
Cosette, daughter of Fantine, with one Marius, both of whom owed their
lives to Valjean. Marius and Cosette shrink from Valjean when they hear
his confession that he is a liberated convict. But when Marius learns
further that Valjean had saved his life and conveyed him from the
barricades to his grandfather's house, and that he had also secured for
him his wife's dowry of 600,000 francs, remorse overcomes him for his
ingratitude. He and Cosette seek out Valjean at his lodgings, but only
arrive in time to witness the death of the suffering, sinning,
struggling convict, and to receive his last blessing.
This romance contains passages which, for grandeur of conception and
skill in execution, have never been equalled by any other French writer.
At the same time the work is not without its defects, chief of which is
the frequent recurrence of prolix digressions. For example, at a very
critical point in the story, when Jean Valjean has effected his escape
with Marius in his arms from the pursuit of the soldiery, the reader is
treated to some hundred pages of speculation on the valuable uses to
which the sewage of large towns may be put. Other eccentricities might
be pointed out, but high and above them all burns the light of the
original genius of the author, which transforms the book for us into a
veritable wizard's spell. Hugo, even with his perversities and his
literary contradictions, can move us as no other man can. Writing to
Lamartine, who had been considerably exercised by the social views
promulgated in this book, the author said: 'A society that admits
misery, a humanity that admits war, seem to me an inferior society and a
debased humanity; it is a higher society, and a more elevated humanity
at which I am aiming--a society without kings, a humanity without
barriers. I want to universalize property, not to abolish it; I would
suppress parasitism; I want to see every man a proprietor, and no man a
master. This is my idea of true social economy. The goal may be far
distant, but is that a reason for not striving to advance towards it?
Yes, as much as a man can long for anything I long to destroy human
fatality. I condemn slavery; I chase away misery; I instruct ignorance;
I illumine darkness; I discard malice. Hence it is that I have written
_Les Miserables_.' So much for one side of the work; but if its social
and political philosophy be condemned to the exclusion of its manifold
excellences and beauties, then I can only pity the mole-like blindness
of those who, in their haste to be critical, have lost that key-note of
human sympathy which alone can unlock the treasures of _Les Miserables_.