Victor Marie Hugo, the great French poet, dramatist, and
novelist, was born at Besançon, on February 26, 1802. He wrote
verses from boyhood, and after minor successes, achieved
reputation with "Odes et Poésies," 1823. Hugo early became the
protagonist of the romantic movement in French literature. In
1841 he was elected to the Academy. From 1845 he took an
increasingly active part in politics, with the result that
from 1852 to 1870 he lived in exile, first in Jersey and then
in Guernsey. "Les Misérables" is not only the greatest of all
Victor Hugo's productions, but is in many respects the
greatest work of fiction ever conceived. An enormous range of
matter is pressed into its pages--by turn historical,
philosophical, lyrical, humanitarian--but running through all
the change of scene is the tragedy and comedy of life at its
darkest and its brightest, and of human passions at their
worst and at their best. It is more than a novel. It is a
magnificent plea for the outcasts of society, for those who
are crushed by the mighty edifice of social order. Yet
throughout it all there is the insistent note of the final
triumph of goodness in the heart of man. The story appeared in
1862, when Hugo was sixty years old, and was written during
his exile in Guernsey. It was translated before publication
into nine languages, and published simultaneously in eight of
the principal cities of the world. Hugo died on May 22, 1885.
(See also Vol. XVII.)
_I.--Jean Valjean, Galley-Slave_
Early in October 1815, at the close of the afternoon, a man came into
the little town of D----. He was on foot, and the few people about
looked at him suspiciously. The traveller was of wretched appearance,
though stout and robust, and in the full vigour of life. He was
evidently a stranger, and tired, dusty, and wearied with a long day's
tramp.
But neither of the two inns in the town would give him food or shelter,
though he offered good money for payment.
He was an ex-convict--that was enough to exclude him.
In despair he went to the prison, and asked humbly for a night's
lodging, but the jailer told him that was impossible unless he got
arrested first.
It was a cold night and the wind was blowing from the Alps; it seemed
there was no refuge open to him.
Then, as he sat down on a stone bench in the marketplace and tried to
sleep, a lady coming out of the cathedral noticed him, and, learning his
homeless state, bade him knock at the bishop's house, for the good
bishop's charity and compassion were known in all the neighbourhood.
At the man's knock the bishop, who lived alone with his sister, Madame
Magloire, and an old housekeeper, said "Come in;" and the ex-convict
entered.
He told them at once that his name was Jean Valjean, that he was a
galley-slave, who had spent nineteen years at the hulks, and that he had
been walking for four days since his release. "It is the same wherever I
go," the man went on. "They all say to me, 'Be off!' I am very tired and
hungry. Will you let me stay here? I will pay."
"Madame Magloire," said the bishop, "please lay another knife and fork.
Sit down, monsieur, and warm yourself. We shall have supper directly,
and your bed will be got ready while we are supping."
Joy and amazement were on the man's face; he stammered his thanks as
though beside himself.
The bishop, in honour of his guest, had silver forks and spoons placed
on the table.
The man took his food with frightful voracity, and paid no attention to
anyone till the meal was over. Then the bishop showed him his bed in an
alcove, and an hour later the whole household was asleep.
Jean Valjean soon woke up again.
For nineteen years he had been at the galleys. Originally a pruner of
trees, he had broken a baker's window and stolen a loaf one hard winter
when there was no work to be had, and for this the sentence was five
years. Time after time he had tried to escape, and had always been
recaptured; and for each offence a fresh sentence was imposed.
Nineteen years for breaking a window and stealing a loaf! He had gone
into prison sobbing and shuddering. He came out full of hatred and
bitterness.
That night, at the bishop's house, for the first time in nineteen years,
Jean Valjean had received kindness. He was moved and shaken. It seemed
inexplicable.
He got up from his bed. Everyone was asleep, the house was perfectly
still.
Jean Valjean seized the silver plate-basket which stood in the bishop's
room, put the silver into his knapsack, and fled out of the house.
In the morning, while the bishop was breakfasting, the gendarmes brought
in Jean Valjean. The sergeant explained that they had met him running
away, and had arrested him, because of the silver they found on him.
"I gave you the candlesticks, too!" said the bishop; "they are silver.
Why did not you take them with the rest of the plate?" Then, turning to
the gendarmes, "It is a mistake."
"We are to let him go?" said the sergeant.
"Certainly," said the bishop.
The gendarmes retired.
"My friend," said the bishop to Jean Valjean, "here are your
candlesticks. Take them with you." He added in a low voice, "Never
forget that you have promised me to use this silver to become an honest
man. My brother, you belong no longer to evil, but to good."
Jean Valjean never remembered having promised anything. He left the
bishop's house and the town dazed and stupefied. It was a new world he
had come into.
He walked on for miles, and then sat down by the roadside to think.
Presently a small Savoyard boy passed him, and as he passed dropped a
two-franc piece on the ground.
Jean Valjean placed his foot upon it. In vain the boy prayed him for the
coin. Jean Valjean sat motionless, deep in thought.
Only when the boy had gone on, in despair, did Jean Valjean wake from
his reverie.
He shouted out, "Little Gervais, little Gervais!" for the boy had told
him his name. The lad was out of sight and hearing, and no answer came.
The enormity of his crime came home to him, and Jean Valjean fell on the
ground, and for the first time in nineteen years he wept.
_II.--Father Madeleine_
On a certain December night in 1815 a stranger entered the town of
M----, at the very time when a great fire had just broken out in the
town hall.
This man at once rushed into the flames, and at the risk of his own life
saved the two children of the captain of gendarmes. In consequence of
this act no one thought of asking for his passport.
The stranger settled in the town; by a happy invention he improved the
manufacture of the black beads, the chief industry of M----, and in
three years, from a very small capital, he became a rich man, and
brought prosperity to the place.
In 1820, Father Madeleine, for so the stranger was called, was made
Mayor of M---- by unanimous request, an honour he had declined the
previous year. Before he came everything was languishing in the town,
and now, a few years later, there was healthy life for all.
Father Madeleine employed everybody who came to him. The only condition
he made was--honesty. From the men he expected good-will, from the
women, purity.
Prosperity did not make Father Madeleine change his habits. He performed
his duties as mayor, but lived a solitary and simple life, avoiding
society. His strength, although he was a man of fifty, was enormous. It
was noticed that he read more as his leisure increased, and that as the
years went by his speech became gentler and more polite.
One person only in all the district looked doubtfully at the mayor, and
that was Javert, inspector of police.
Javert, born in prison, was the incarnation of police duty--implacable,
resolute, fanatical. He arrived in M---- when Father Madeleine was
already a rich man, and he felt sure he had seen him before.
One day in 1823 the mayor interfered to prevent Javert sending a poor
woman, named Fantine, to prison. Fantine had been dismissed from the
factory without the knowledge of M. Madeleine; and her one hope in life
was in her little girl, whom she called Cosette. Now, Cosette was
boarded out at the village of Montfermeil, some leagues distance from
M----, with a family grasping and dishonest, and to raise money for
Cosette's keep had brought Fantine to misery and sickness.
The mayor could save Fantine from prison, he could not save her life;
but before the unhappy woman died she had delivered a paper to Mr.
Madeleine authorising him to take her child, and Mr. Madeleine had
accepted the trust.
It was when Fantine lay dying in the hospital that Javert, who had quite
decided in his own mind who M. Madeleine was, came to the mayor and
asked to be dismissed from the service.
"I have denounced you, M. le Maire, to the prefect of police at Paris as
Jean Valjean, an ex-convict, who has been wanted for the robbery of a
little Savoyard more than five years ago."
"And what answer did you receive?"
"That I was mad, for the real Jean Valjean has been found."
"Ah!"
Javert explained that an old man had been arrested for breaking into an
orchard; that on being taken to the prison he had been recognised by
several people as Jean Valjean, and that he, Javert, himself recognised
him. To-morrow he was to be tried at Arras, and, as he was an
ex-convict, his sentence would be for life.
Terrible was the anguish of M. Madeleine that night. He had done all
that man could do to obliterate the past, and now it seemed another was
to be taken in his place. The torture and torment ended. In the morning
M. Madeleine set out for Arras.
M. Madeleine arrived before the orchard-breaker was condemned. He proved
to the court's astonishment that he, the revered and philanthropic Mayor
of M----, was Jean Valjean, and that the prisoner had merely committed a
trivial theft. Then he left the court, returned to M----, removed what
money he had, buried it, and arranged his affairs.
A few days later Jean Valjean was sent back to the galleys at Toulon,
and with his removal the prosperity of M---- speedily collapsed. This
was in July 1823. In November of that year the following paragraph
appeared in the Toulon paper:
"Yesterday, a convict, on his return from rescuing a sailor, fell into
the sea and was drowned. His body has not been found. His name was
registered as Jean Valjean."
_III.--A Hunted Man_
At Christmas, in the year 1823, an old man came to the village of
Montfermeil, called at the inn, paid money to the rascally innkeeper,
Thénardier, and carried off little Cosette to Paris.
The old man rented a large garret in an old house, and Cosette became
inexpressibly happy with her doll and with the good man who loved her so
tenderly.
Till then Jean Valjean had never loved anything. He had never been a
father, lover, husband, or friend. When he saw Cosette, and had rescued
her, he felt his heart strangely moved. All the affection he had was
aroused, and went out to this child. Jean Valjean was fifty-five and
Cosette eight, and all the love of his life, hitherto untouched, melted
into a benevolent devotion.
Cosette, too, changed. She had been separated from her mother at such an
early age that she could not remember her. And the Thénardiers had
treated her harshly. In Jean Valjean she found a father, just as he
found a daughter in Cosette.
Weeks passed away. These two beings led a wonderfully happy life in the
old garret; Cosette would chatter, laugh, and sing all day.
Jean Valjean was careful never to go out in the daytime, but he began to
be known in the district as "the mendicant who gives away money." There
was one old man who sat by some church steps, and who generally seemed
to be praying, whom Jean Valjean always liked to relieve. One night when
Jean Valjean had dropped a piece of money into his hand as usual, the
beggar suddenly raised his eyes, stared hard at him, and then quickly
dropped his head. Jean Valjean started, and went home greatly troubled.
The face which he fancied he had seen was that of Javert.
A few nights later Jean Valjean found that Javert had taken lodgings in
the same house where he and Cosette lived. Taking the child by the hand,
he at once set out for fresh quarters. They passed through silent and
empty streets, and crossed the river, and it seemed to Jean Valjean that
no one was in pursuit. But soon he noticed four men plainly shadowing
him, and a shudder went over him. He turned from street to street,
trying to escape from the city, and at last found himself entrapped in a
_cul-de-sac._ What was to be done?
There was no time to turn back. Javert had undoubtedly picketed every
outlet. Fortunately for Jean Valjean, there was a deep shadow in the
street, so that his own movements were unseen.
While he stood hesitating, a patrol of soldiers entered the street, with
Javert at their head. They frequently halted. It was evident that they
were exploring every hole and corner, and one might judge they would
take a quarter of an hour before they reached the spot where Jean
Valjean was. It was a frightful moment. Capture meant the galleys, and
Cosette lost for ever. There was only one thing possible--to scale the
wall which ran along a wide portion of the street. But the difficulty
was Cosette; there was no thought of abandoning her.
First, Jean Valjean procured a rope from the lamppost, for the lamps had
not been lit that night owing to the moonlight. This he fastened round
the child, taking the other end between his teeth. Half a minute later he
was on his knees on the top of the wall. Cosette watched him in silence.
All at once she heard Jean Valjean saying in a very low voice, "Lean
against the wall. Don't speak, and don't be afraid."
She felt herself lifted from the ground, and before she had time to
think where she was she found herself on the top of the wall.
Jean Valjean grasped her, put the child on his back, and crawled along
the wall till he came to a sloping roof. He could hear the thundering
voice of Javert giving orders to the patrol to search the _cul-de-sac_
to the end.
Jean Valjean slipped down the roof, still carrying Cosette, and leaped
on the ground. It was a convent garden he had entered.
On the other side of the wall the clatter of muskets and the
imprecations of Javert resounded; from the convent came a hymn.
Cosette and Jean Valjean fell on their knees. Presently Jean Valjean
discovered that the gardener was an old man whose life he had saved at
M------, and who, in his gratitude, was prepared to do anything for M.
Madeleine.
It ended in Cosette entering the convent school as a pupil, and Jean
Valjean being accepted as the gardener's brother. The good nuns never
left the precincts of their convent, and cared nothing for the world
beyond their gates.
As for Javert, he had delayed attempting an arrest, even when his
suspicions had been aroused, because, after all, the papers said the
convict was dead. But once convinced, he hesitated no longer.
His disappointment when Jean Valjean escaped him was midway between
despair and fury. All night the search went on; but it never occurred to
Javert that a steep wall of fourteen feet could be climbed by an old man
with a child.
Several years passed at the convent.
Jean Valjean worked daily in the garden, and shared the hut and the name
of the old gardener, M. Fauchelevent. Cosette was allowed to see him for
an hour every day.
The peaceful garden, the fragrant flowers, the merry cries of the
children, the grave and simple women, gradually brought happiness to
Jean Valjean; and his heart melted into gratitude for the security he
had found.
_IV.--Something Higher than Duty_
For six years Cosette and Jean Valjean stayed at the convent; and then,
on the death of the old gardener, Jean Valjean, now bearing the name of
Fauchelevent, decided that as Cosette was not going to be a nun, and as
recognition was no longer to be feared, it would be well to remove into
the city.
So a house was taken in the Rue Plumet, and here, with a faithful
servant, the old man dwelt with his adopted child. But Jean Valjean took
other rooms in Paris, in case of accidents.
Cosette was growing up. She was conscious of her good looks, and she was
in love with a well-connected youth named Marius, the son of Baron
Pontmercy.
Jean Valjean learnt of this secret love-making with dismay. The idea of
parting from Cosette was intolerable to him.
Then, in June 1832, came desperate street fighting in Paris, and Marius
was in command of one of the revolutionary barricades.
At this barricade Javert had been captured as a spy, and Jean Valjean,
who was known to the revolutionaries, found his old, implacable enemy
tied to a post, waiting to be shot. Jean Valjean requested to be allowed
to blow out Javert's brains himself, and permission was given.
Holding a pistol in his hand, Jean Valjean led Javert, who was still
bound, to a lane out of sight of the barricade, and there with his knife
cut the ropes from the wrists and feet of his prisoner.
"You are free," he said. "Go; and if by chance I leave this place alive,
I am to be found under the name of Fauchelevent, in the Rue de
l'Homme-Armé, No. 7."
Javert walked a few steps, and then turned back, and cried, "You worry
me. I would rather you killed me!"
"Go!" was the only answer from Jean Valjean.
Javert moved slowly away; and when he had disappeared Jean Valjean
discharged his pistol in the air.
Soon the last stand of the insurgents was at an end, and the barricade
destroyed. Jean Valjean, who had taken no part in the struggle, beyond
exposing himself to the bullets of the soldiers, was unhurt; but Marius
lay wounded and insensible in his arms.
The soldiers were shooting down all who tried to escape. The situation
was terrible.
There was only one chance for life--underground. An iron grating, which
led to the sewers, was at his feet. Jean Valjean tore it open, and
disappeared with Marius on his shoulders.
He emerged, after a horrible passage through a grating by the bank of
the river, only to find there the implacable Javert!
Jean Valjean was quite calm.
"Inspector Javert," he said, "help me to carry this man home; then do
with me what you please."
A cab was waiting for the inspector. He ordered the man to drive to the
address Jean Valjean gave him. Marius, still unconscious, was taken to
his grandfather's house.
"Inspector Javert," said Jean Valjean, "grant me one thing more. Let me
go home for a minute; then you may take me where you will."
Javert told the driver to go to Rue de l'Homme-Armé, No. 7.
When they reached the house, Javert said, "Go up; I will wait here for
you!"
But before Jean Valjean reached his rooms Javert had gone, and the
street was empty.
Javert had not been at ease since his life had been spared. He was now
in horrible uncertainty. To owe his life to an ex-convict, to accept
this debt, and then to repay him by sending him back to the galleys was
impossible. To let a malefactor go free while he, Inspector Javert, took
his pay from the government, was equally impossible. It seemed there was
something higher and above his code of duty, something he had not come
into collision with before. The uncertainty of the right thing to be
done destroyed Javert, to whom life had hitherto been perfectly plain.
He could not live recognising Jean Valjean as his saviour, and he could
not bring himself to arrest Jean Valjean.
Inspector Javert made his last report at the police-station, and then,
unable to face the new conditions of life, walked slowly to the river
and plunged into the Seine, where the water rolls round and round in an
endless whirlpool.
Marius recovered, and married Cosette; and Jean Valjean lived alone. He
had told Marius who he was--Jean Valjean, an escaped convict; and Marius
and Cosette gradually saw less and less of the old man.
But before Jean Valjean died Marius learnt the whole truth of the heroic
life of the old man who had rescued him from the lost barricade. For the
first time he realised that Jean Valjean had come to the barricade only
to save him, knowing him to be in love with Cosette.
He hastened with Cosette to Jean Valjean's room; but the old man's last
hour had come.
"Come closer, come closer, both of you," he cried. "I love you so much.
It is good to die like this! You love me too, my Cosette. I know you've
always had a fondness for the poor old man. And you, M. Pontmercy, will
always make Cosette happy. There were several things I wanted to say,
but they don't matter now. Come nearer, my children. I am happy in
dying!"
Cosette and Marius fell on their knees, and covered his hands with
kisses.
Jean Valjean was dead!
* * * * *