HONOURS TO VICTOR HUGO.
Unlike many other great men, Victor Hugo was not compelled to wait for a
posthumous recognition of his powers. His genius was incontestable; he
towered far above all his contemporaries; and the universal
acknowledgment of his talents left no room for jealousy. Hence writers
and artists of all classes, and of varying eminence, combined with their
less distinguished fellow-countrymen in paying homage to one who has
shed undying lustre upon the French name.
The chief ovations accorded to the poet I must briefly pass in review.
Several revivals of his best-known dramas have taken place of recent
years, but the most striking of these celebrations was undoubtedly that
at the Theatre Francais, on the 25th of February, 1880. It was the
fiftieth anniversary of the original representation of _Hernani_, and
that play was again produced to mark 'the golden wedding of Hugo's
genius and his glory.' After the termination of the play the curtain was
lifted, when a bust of the dramatist was seen elevated on a pedestal
profusely decorated with wreaths and palm-leaves. The stage was filled
with actors dressed to represent the leading characters in Hugo's
various plays. Mademoiselle Sarah Bernhardt came forward in the
character of Dona Sol, and recited with much feeling and energy some
laudatory verses by M. Francois Coppee, which roused anew the enthusiasm
of the audience. In response to the call of M. Francisque Sarcey, the
vast assembly rose, and filled the air with their congratulatory
vociferations. '_Ad multos annos!_ long live Victor Hugo!' Such were the
cries from all parts of the house, which so affected the venerable poet
that he was compelled to retire.
A few days subsequent to this performance the members of the Parisian
press gave a grand banquet to Victor Hugo at the Hotel Continental. The
speech of welcome and honour to the poet was delivered by M. Emile
Augier, himself a writer of considerable reputation. After referring to
the marvellous vitality of Victor Hugo's poems and romances, the
speaker said: 'Time, O glorious master, takes no hold upon you; you know
nothing of decline; you pass through every stage of life without
diminishing your virility; for more than half a century your genius has
covered the world with the unceasing flow of its tide. The resistance of
the first period, the rebellion of the second, have melted away into
universal admiration, and the last refractory spirits have yielded to
your power.... When La Bruyere before the Academy hailed Bossuet as
father of the Church, he was speaking the language of posterity, and it
is posterity itself, noble master, that surrounds you here, and hails
you as our father.'
At the word 'father' the whole audience rose, and took up the
salutation. When quiet was restored M. Delaunay suggested that the poet
should be solicited for a new dramatic work. The enthusiasm was renewed
at this suggestion, and it may well be imagined that the acclamations
reached their culminating point when Sarah Bernhardt rose and embraced
the aged author of _Hernani_. On this occasion Victor Hugo read his
address of thanks, which was brief and pregnant in its allusions.
'Before me I see the press of France,' said Hugo. 'The worthies who
represent it here have endeavoured to prove its sovereign concord, and
to demonstrate its indestructible unity. You have assembled to grasp the
hand of an old campaigner, who began life with the century, and lives
with it still. I am deeply touched. I tender you all my thanks. All the
noble words that we have just been hearing only add to my emotion. There
are dates that seem to be periodically repeated with marked
significance. The 26th of February, 1802, was my birthday; in 1830 it
was the time of the first appearance of _Hernani_; and this again is the
26th of February, 1880. Fifty years ago, I, who am now here speaking to
you, was hated, hooted, slandered, cursed. Today, to-day--but the date
is enough. Gentlemen, the French press is one of the mistresses of the
human intellect; it has its daily task, and that task is gigantic. In
every minute of every hour it has its influence upon every portion of
the civilized world; its struggles, its disputes, its wrath resolve
themselves into progress, harmony, and peace. In its premeditations it
aims at truth; from its polemics it flashes forth light. I propose as my
toast the prosperity of the French press, the institution that fosters
such noble designs, and renders such noble services.'
On the 27th of December, 1880, there was a grand festival at Besancon in
honour of the poet, its most illustrious son. The chief inhabitants of
the town, and the visitors from Paris, assembled at the Mairie, and
proceeded thence to the Place St. Quentin. The Mayor was accompanied by
M. Rambaud, chief secretary to the Minister of Public Instruction, and
General Wolff, commander of the _Corps d'Armee_. There were also present
deputations from the Senate and the Chamber of Deputies, officers,
university professors, a representative of the President of the
Republic, the Rector of the Academy, the Prefect, the Municipal
Councillors, and a large body of members of the press. The poet was
represented by M. Paul Meurice. The whole of Besancon was _en fete_. In
a street facing the Place St. Quentin a large platform had been erected,
and here the proceedings took place. A beautiful medallion affixed to a
house near the platform was uncovered by the Mayor. This medallion
represented a five-stringed lyre with two laurel branches of gold, and
there was an inscription which, by the poet's express desire, consisted
simply of his name and the date of his birth--'Victor Hugo: 26th of
February, 1802.' The lyre was surmounted by a head typical of the
Republic, encircled by rays. The procession adjourned from the Place St.
Quentin to the stage at the Besancon Theatre, in the centre of which had
been placed David's bust of Victor Hugo. At the request of the Mayor, M.
Rambaud delivered an address upon the poet's character and genius. He
recited the history of his struggles and of his literary conflicts, and
of the gradual attainment of victory over thought and intellect;
descanted upon his ever-increasing influence, his development as a
politician, his internal conflicts, and his final triumph; described his
prolonged duel with the Empire, and his ultimate success; reviewed the
leading characteristics of his lyrical, dramatic, and historical
writings; and finally demonstrated how, after a life fraught with
conflicts, trials, and sorrows, he found his reward in the revival of
France, in the progress of democracy; and last, though not least, in the
peaceful joys of domestic life and the society of his grandchildren.
To this address M. Paul Meurice responded, and read the following letter
from Victor Hugo himself: 'It is with deep emotion that I tender my
thanks to my compatriots. I am a stone on the road that is trodden by
humanity; but that road is a good one. Man is master neither of his life
nor of his death. He can but offer to his fellow-citizens his efforts to
diminish human suffering; he can but offer to God his indomitable faith
in the growth of liberty.' The marble bust of the poet was crowned with
a wreath of golden laurel, and while the whole audience stood, a band of
one hundred and fifty musicians performed the _Marseillaise_. Cries of
'_Vive Victor Hugo! Vive la Republique!_' were heard as the audience
left the theatre.
An ovation such as few sovereigns have ever received was accorded to
Victor Hugo by the City of Paris on the 27th of February, 1881. The day
before, the poet had completed his seventy-ninth year, and by the French
people this is regarded as entitling to octogenarian honours. A
celebration took place which was compared with the reception of Voltaire
in 1788. The Avenue d'Eylau, where Victor Hugo resided, was densely
thronged, and the poet, being recognised with his children and
grandchildren at an upper window of his house, was cheered by a vast
multitude, estimated by unsympathetic observers at 100,000. The
Municipality had erected at the entrance to the Avenue lofty flagstaffs
decorated with shields bearing the titles of his works, and supporting a
large drapery inscribed '1802, Victor Hugo, 1881.' Early in the morning
the Avenue was thronged with processions consisting of collegians,
trades unions, musical and benefit societies, deputations from the
districts of Paris and from the provinces, etc. A deputation of
children, bearing a blue and red banner with the inscription, '_L'Art
d'etre Grand-pere_,' and headed by a little girl in white, arrived at
the house, and was received by Victor Hugo in the drawing-room. The
little maiden, who recited some lines by M. Mendes, was blessed by the
venerable poet. Among other incidents of the day, the Paris Municipality
drew up in front of the house, and Victor Hugo read to them the
following speech: 'I greet Paris, I greet the city. I greet it not in my
name, for I am naught, but in the name of all that lives, reasons,
thinks, loves, and hopes on earth. Cities are blessed places; they are
the workshops of Divine labour. Divine labour is human labour. It
remains human so long as it is individual; as soon as it is collective,
as its object is greater than its worker, it becomes Divine. The labour
of the fields is human; the labour of the towns is Divine. From time to
time history places a sign upon a city. That sign is unique. History in
4,000 years has thus marked three cities, which sum up the whole effort
of civilization. What Athens did for Greek antiquity, what Rome did for
Roman antiquity, Paris is doing to-day for Europe, for America, for the
civilized universe. It is the city of the world. Who addresses Paris
addresses the whole world, _urbi et orbi_. I, a humble passer-by, who
have but my share in your rights, in the name of all cities, of the
cities of Europe, of America, of the civilized world, from Athens to New
York, from London to Moscow; in thy name, Rome; in thine, Berlin--I
praise, with love I hail, the hallowed city, Paris.'
A stream of processions then filed past the house, many of them bearing
imposing bouquets, which were deposited in front of Hugo's residence.
The musical societies alone exceeded 100; strains of the _Marseillaise_
were now and again audible, and the entire Avenue, nearly a mile long,
was thickly lined with spectators, while that part of it commanding a
view of the poet's house was densely packed, except for a passage-way
for the processions. Medals and photographs of the hero of the day were
to be seen everywhere, and the behaviour of the enormous assemblage was
most exemplary. Victor Hugo, whose love of the fresh air always made him
careless of exposure, remained at the open window for several hours
bareheaded, acknowledging the greetings of the successive deputations
and of the multitude. At the Trocadero a musical and literary festival
was held, when selections from Victor Hugo's works were sung or recited
by some of the leading Paris _artistes_, and the _Marseillaise_ was
performed by a military band. M. Louis Blanc, who presided, said that
few great men had entered in their lifetime into their immortality.
Voltaire and Victor Hugo had both deserved this, one for stigmatizing
religious intolerance, the other for having, with incomparable lustre,
served humanity. He commended the committee for inviting the
co-operation of men of different opinions, for genius united in a common
admiration men otherwise at discord, and the idea of union was
inseparable from a grand festival. 'There were enough days in the year
given to what separated men. It was well to give a few hours to what
brought them together, and there could be no better opportunity than the
festival of an unrivalled poet, an eloquent apostle of human
brotherhood, whose use of his genius was greater than his genius itself,
the oneness of his life consisting in the constant ascent of his spirit
towards the light.' In the evening of the day there was a Victor Hugo
concert at the Conservatoire, and at many of the theatres verses were
recited in his honour. On the night of the 25th a special performance
was given at the Gaite of _Lucrece Borgia_, which had not been produced
for ten years. The house was filled, all the notabilities of Paris being
present, while the poet himself also appeared for a short time. The
celebration generally was one triumphant success.
In honour of Hugo's eightieth birthday, on the 26th of February, 1882,
the French Government ordered a free performance of _Hernani_ at the
Theatre Francais. Crowds stood outside for hours waiting for admission,
and 2,300 persons managed to squeeze themselves into seats intended to
accommodate only 1,500. The poet and his grandchildren were present
during the last act, and were loudly applauded. Hugo's bust was placed
on the stage at the close of the piece, and verses in his honour by M.
Coppee were recited. On the preceding evening 5,000 persons had attended
his reception, when the committee of the previous year's grand
celebration presented him with a bronze miniature of Michael Angelo's
'Moses.' In acknowledging the gift, the poet said, 'I accept your
present, and I await a still better one, the greatest a man can receive:
I mean death--death, that recompense for the good done on earth. I shall
live in my descendants, my grandchildren, Jeanne and Georges. If,
indeed, I have a narrow-minded thought it is for them. I wish to ensure
their future, and I confide them to the protection of all the loyal and
devoted hearts here present.'
Yet one more celebration I must notice. On the 22nd of November, 1882,
the Theatre Francais gave a brilliant performance of Victor Hugo's _Le
Roi s'Amuse_. It has already been seen that this piece was first
produced on the 22nd of November, 1832, amid such a scene of disorder
and tumult that the Government forbade its further representation. From
that time forward it had never been produced until this fiftieth
anniversary in 1882. It was the subject of preliminary conversation for
weeks in Paris, and great anxiety was manifested on the subject of
seats. It was stated that if the house, which had only provision for
1,500 persons, could have been made to accommodate 10,000, there would
still have been an insufficiency of places to satisfy all the
supplications with which the Theatre Francais was besieged. The
intrinsic value of the work, however, was not the first thought of those
who engaged in the feverish quest for seats, which for a full month
possessed all fashionable, artistic, literary, political, diplomatic,
and financial Paris. It was chiefly the desire to do honour to the
veteran poet. With regard to the representation itself, the splendour of
the mounting, the beauty of the accessories, and the historical fidelity
of the costumes, transcended all expectation. Never was a piece placed
on the stage with greater, or indeed probably equal, art.