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VICTOR HUGO. 



VICTOR HUGO 



AND 



HIS TIME 



By ALFRED BARBOU 



ILLUSTRATED WITH 120 DRAWINGS 

liY 

MM. EMILE BAYARn, CLERGET, FICHEL, Jt'LES GARMER, OERVEX. GIACOMELLI 

CH, fiOSSELIN, JEAN-PAUL LAUREXS, LIX. OLIVIKR MERSOX, H. MEYER 

ED MORIX, SCOTT, VnGEL. ZIER, Etp. 

ANn 

A GREAT NUMBER OF DRAWINGS BY VICTOR HUGO 

ENGRAVED BY MEAULLE 



TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY 
ELLEN E. FREWER 



N E W Y O R K 

HARPER & BROTHERS, FRANKLIN SQUARE 

1882 
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CONTENTS. 



INTRODUCTION Page xlx 

CHAPTER I. 

Genealogy. — Family Arms Bishop of Ptoleraaide. — Cnnnt. Leopold Si^isbert Hu£:o, Father of Victor. — His 

Mother. — Maternal Descent. — Sponsors. — Certificate of Birth— SigDificntion of Name. — Verges in " Les 
Feuilles d'Automue. "— Opinion of the Bisontins.— Besanfon never Visited by Victor Hugo 23 



CHAPTER II. 

Infancy. — Fiom Besanfon to Marsyilles.— From Marseilles to Elba. — First Stay in Paris. — The Honse in the 
Kue de Clichy. — The Well in the Court-yard.— Departure for Italy. — Remlniecencee of the Joiiruey. — 
Early Impressions.— Victor Hugo's Own Account of Youthful Travels.— The Marble Palace of Avellino. 
— Colonel Hugo in Spain with Joseph Bonaparte. — Return of the Family to Paris 29 



CHAPTER III. 

The House in the Impasse des Fenillantines.— Ttie Garden. — Victor lingo's Own Reminiscences. — Maternal 

Instruction Portrait of Madame Hugo. — Obedience Enforced upon the Children. — The School and the 

Cul-de-sac. — General Lahorie. — His Commentary on Tacitus. — His Arrest and Execution. — Departure for 
Spain 32 



CHAPTER IV. 

From Paris to Bayoiine. — A Childish Attachment. — From Bayonne to Madrid. — The Treasure and its Con- 
voy.^Arrival in Madrid.— Residence in the Masserano Palace. — The College of Nobles. — Schoolboy 
Fights.— Return to the Fenillantines.— Lariviore's Teaching.— Dangers of Clerical Education.— A Head- 
master " Bald and Black."— Pepita, the Little Spanish Girl .38 



CHAPTER V. 

The Rue da Cherche-Midi.— The Retreat from Spain.— General Hugo's Part therein.— Defence of Thionville. 
—The Invasion.- Return of the Bourbons.- A King instead of an Emperor — Free Studies.— Madame 
Hugo a Royalist- Domestic Differences.— The Pension Cordier.— Schoolboy Tyrants.— Leon Gatayes 
and the King of the "Dogs."— A Romantic Mathematician.— Poetical Essays.- Theatrical Performauces. 
— Juvenile Effusions 44 



CHAPTER VI. 

A Pamphleteer at Thirteen.— First Connection with the Academic Fraup aise.— " L'eufant sublime."- Cli;i- 
teaubriand or Soumet the Author of the Mot.— A Romance Written in a Fortnight.— " ling-Jargal."— 
Studies for Future Worlds.— Revision and Publication.— Subject of Play Performed 1S80 40 



X . ■ CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Jeux Ploranx at Toulouse.— "Les Vierges de Verclun."— Filial Affection.— Letter from M. Soumet— 
Reluctance to Go to the ficole Polytedmique. — Allowauce Withdrawn. —Numerous Changes of Kesi- 
dence.- Publication ofOdes.- Z/c Co7i.seroate«- ii«eVa!>i;.— Description of the Magazine.— Victor Hugo a 
Critic— His Articles and Nomx de pliime.- Opinion of Lamartine's First "Me'tlitations Pootiques." — 
First Interview of the Two Poets ^■'2'' ^^ 

CHAPTER VIII. 

The Pamphlets of 1819.- A Cruel Separation. — Publication of the First Odes. —Hard Work. — Mother's 

Death An Affecting Betrothal Offer of Jfarriage.- Duel with a Life-guardsman.- Poverty Bravely 

Borne. — A Young Poet's Budget. — Pul)lication of the "Odes et Ballades," — Their Success. — The 
Author's Ideas on Odes. — Corrections of Manuscript. — Lodging in the Eiie du Dragon. —Account of 
Royal Pension 60 

CHAPTER IX. 

The Poet's Marriage.— Illness and Death of Eugene Hugo.— Qeueral Hugo in Paris.— His Influence on Vic- 
tor " Han d'Islande."— Scope of the Work.— Its Reception by the Critics.— Charles Nodier's Approval. 

— Partisans of the Book.— Drama Foimded on it.— Fortune Smiles on the Poet. — The House in the Rue 
de Vaugirard. — La. Eeciie Fraiii'aiae. — Victor lingo's Opinion of Voltaire in 1824. — His Observations 
on Lameuuais, Walter Scott, and Byron. — Achille Deveria and Louis Boulanger 67 

CHAPTER X. 

Journey to Blois.— Victor Hugo Made Chevalier of tlie Legion of Honor. — Coronation of Charles X. — Visit 
to Lamartiue. — Trip Across the Alps. — Return to Paris. — Proclamation of Literary Liberty. — Birth of 
Romanticism. — Wrath of the Classics. — Literature of the First Empire. — Revival at the Beginuing of 
the Present Century.— Prelude of a Great War — Caricature of a Classic.—" L'Ode h la Coloune " 73 

CHAPTER XL 

Le C^nacle. — Appearance of Sainte-Beuve. — M. Taylor. — A Conversation with Talma.—" Cromwell." — Preface 
to the Work — Opposition Provoked. — Analysis by the Author — Various Opinions. — Death of Madame 
Foucher. — Marriage of Abel Hugo. — Death of General Hugo.— "Amy Robsart" 79 

CHAPTER XII. 

Conception of a Great Work.— Time Occupied in Writing "Marion Delorme." — Reading at Deveria's House. 
—Sensibility of Alexandre Diunas.—Didier'sFcngiveuess.— Anecdote of £mileDeschamps.— Corapetitiou 
of Theatrical Managers.— Censorship of Charles X.— A Royal Audience.— Prohibition without Appeal.— 
The King Offers Compensation.— Refusal of the Pension. — 51. Taylor's Perplexity.— "Ilernani."— Report 
of the Censors. — Mile. Mars at Rehearsal g^ 

CHAPTER XIII. 

First Performance of "Hernani." — A Petition from the Clatsics. — Intrigues of the Philistiues. — Appearance 
of " Young France."— Theopliile Gautier's Red Waistcoat — A Queue at the Theatre Door.— Seven Hours' 
Wait— Scene in the Honse.— Homage to Beautj'.— The Battle.—A Blunder.— Down with Sycophants.— 

Mile. Mars's Costume. — A Child's Question. — The Triumph of Romanticism. — Parodies of "Hernani." 

The Press in 1830._After the Victory g^ 

CHAPTER XIV. 

The Eevohition of Jnly, 1S30.— Performance of "Marion Delorme."— Reasons for Delay.— Reception by the 
Public.— Parodies.— Jules Janin's Indignation. — " Le Roi s' Amuse. " — First Performance. —A Severe 
Critic- Immediate Prohibition.- Causes of Prohibition.— Lonis Philippe's Ministry.— Trial before the 
Board of Trade.— Disgraceful Hostility of the Newspapers.— The Poet's Reply.— "Lncrecc Borgia."— Its 
Actors.— Immeuse Success.— A Duel Avoided 104 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XV. 

"Mai-ie Tndoi'."— Mile. Georges. — "Aiiffelo."—Riviilry between Mile. Mars and Madame Dorval. — "La 
Esmeralda."— Fatality.— *'Ruy Blus." — M. Auguste Vacquerie at the First Performance. — "Les Bur- 
braves."— Victor Hugo's Determination.— Unpublished Works.— Underhand Dealings of Tragic Writers. 
— M. Pousard's "Lucrece." — Love on tlie Classic Stage. — Literary Types. — A Successful Lnwsuit. .Page 115 

CHAPTER XVI. 

" Les Orien tales." — A Portrait of Victor Hugo. — Respect Iiisiiired by the Past. — Changes of Residence. — 
The House in the Rue Jeau-Goujon. — An Attempt at Murder. — The Ilevite- dcs Deux Mondes. — M. Buloz. — 
M. Xiiviei- Murmier. —Domestic Life. — "Les Feiiilles d'Automne.'' —Manuscripts. — " Les Chants du 
Cri'puscule."— " Les Voix Inturieiires."— "Les Rayons et les Ombres" 121 

CHAPTER XVII. 

"Littcratnre ct Philosophic Melees.''— Jacobite in ISli), Revolutionist in 1830.— The Poet's Jndgmcnt on 
hia Early Works.— Study of Conscience.- Thonghts upon Art.— History of the French Language.— Can- 
didature for the Acadeniie. — Failure Thrice. — Malice of Casiniir Delavigne. — Wrath of Alexandre 
Duval. — Chateaubriand and Viennet.— Formal Reception. — A Satirical Quatrain. ^Speeches of the New 
Member 131 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

"Notre Dame de Paris." — A Shawl and a Bottle of Ink. — Author's Aim in the Work. — Archceology and 
Philosophy. — Criticism. — Opinions of Sainte-Benve and Jules Janin- — Victor Hugo's Erudition. —His 
Vocabulary, — Complaints of the Savans. — A Well-informed Cicerone. — Plays Adapted fi'<im "Notre 
Dame de Paris."— CmitempUxted Romances.-" Le Rhin."— A Conscientious Tourist.- Medieval Archi- 
tecture 136 

CHAPTER XIX. 

The Place Royftle.— The Poet's Apartments. ^Augiiste de Chiitillon.— Victor Hugo's Salon.~A Legendary 
Dais.— Literary Society — Introduction to Anguste Vacquerie.— M. Paul Meurice.— Marriage of Charles 
Vacquerie to Le'opoldine Hugo. — Fatal Accident at Villequier.— Madame Victor Hugo's Picture. — The 
Poet's Nocturnal Strolls.— Assaulted in the Rue des Touruelles Hi 

CHAPTER XX. 

Victor Hugo's Politics during the Reign of Louis Philippe. — His Convictions in 1S30. — Revolutionary Sen- 
timents. — Literary Liberty followed by Political Liberty. — Connection with the Press.— Relations with 
the King.— Portrait of Louis Philippe.— Raised to the Peerage.— First Speeches in the Chamber. — Prel- 
udes to the Revolution of 1S4S 153 

CHAPTER XXL 

Elections for the Constituent Assembly.— Address lo the Electors— Speeches in the Assembly.- Socialist 
Opinions. — Opinion on the Events of June. — Republican Convictions. — Pardon to the Vanquished. — 
Rescue of Insurgents. — Victor Schffilcher.— IndependeiJt Votes. — Publication ofL'JSveneme7it. — Prospectus 
of the Paper. — Dissolution of Constituent Assembly.— The Legislative Assembly.— Bonaparte President. 
—A Tiilogy.— The Coup d'Etat IGO 

CHAPTER XXII. 

Acts Leading to Banishment. —A Price Set upon the Poet's Head. — Drive through Paris.- A Woman's 
Devotion.— Sons and Friends in Prison — Arrival in Brussels.- "L'Histoire d'un Crime."— "Les Hommes 
de rExil-"- Proposition to the Literary Society of France. — La Grande Place in Brussels.- "NapoMon le 
Petit."— Alarm of the Belgian Government.- The Exile's Expulsion 167 



aONTBNTS. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Jersej-.— Keception of the Exiles.— Victor Hugo's Eeaonrces.— Sale of Fui-nitnre.— Apartmeuts in the Eue 

de La Tour d'Auveigne.— Viicqueiie's Slietches Formalities of Society.— The Privileges of a French 

Peer.— An Imperial Spy Page 171 

CHAPTER XXIV. 

"Les Chfitimeiits."— Editions of 1S53.— Their Introduction into France.— Attitude of the Exiles in Jersey. 
— Victor Hugo's Funeral Orations.— Action of the English Government.— Sir Robert Peel.— Ribeyrolles' 
Reply.— i'flonwne.-Felix Pyat's Letter.— Meeting nt St. Helier.— Threats.- Denunciation of the Exiles. 
—Victor Hugo's Protest. — The London Press.- The Second Expulsion 17T 

CHAPTER XXV. 

Departure from Jersey.— Satisfaction of the Bonapartist Journals. — "Les Contemplations."- Criticisms. — 
Opinion of the lii'vnc (ks Devx MtmiJefi. — Reception of the Work in France.—" La Legeude des Siiicles." 
—Outline of its Aim. — Correspondence with Charles Baudelaire 1S5 

CHAPTER XXVI. 

Guernsey. — Hauteville House.— The Oak Gallery.— Garibaldi's Chamber The Study. — Family Pursuits 

Pets. — "Les Miserables." — Lamartine and his "Cnnrs de Litterature."— Letter from Victor Hugo. — 
Dinners to Poor Children Bauquet in Brussels. — M. Grenier's Criticism 190 

CHAPTER XXVII. 

Victor Hugo and Capital Punishment.— "Le Deniier Jonr d'nii Coiuliiniiie."— "Clande Giieiix." — The Versep 
that Saved Barbiis' Life.— Louis Philippe's Kecognition.— Speech in the Couetitueiit Assembly.— Trial of 
Charle.-^ Hugo. —Defence by his Father.— Protests fi'oni Jersey. — A Letter to Lord Palmerstnn. — John 
Brown and America. — Debate of the Genevan Republic. — " Pour un Soldat" 203 

CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The People of Jersey Atone for the Past.— A Marriage. — Births.— Tour in Zealand.— 7jU70jrn77o of No 

Avail. — From Antwerp to Middelburg. — Dutch Hospitality An Ovation Return to Belgium. — "Les 

Chansons des Rues et des Bois."— Victor Hugo a Musician "Les Travailleurs de la Mer." — "L'Homme 

qui Rit " 211 

CHAPTER XXIX. 

Victor Hugo's Admiration of Shakespeare.— The Paris Exhibition of 1867 "The Paris Guide.'' The Re- 
production of "Hernani."— "La Voix de Guernesey."— Letter to the Youns Poets.— Literary Movement 

under the Second Empire. — Le RappeL^-lts Contributors. — A Manifesto Summary of the Works of 

the Exile .' 217 

CHAPTER XXX. 

Return to France.— Distressing Jonrney — Popular Ovation on Arrival. -The Siege.— A Cry for Peace — 
A Cry for War. — Public Performances. —Proceeds Purchasing Cannon. —Strange Diet. — Improvised 
Verses. — Walks on the Ramparts. — Victor Hugo's Admiration of the People of Paris 224 

CHAPTER XXXI. 

Elections for the National Assembly. —Arrival at Bordeaux — Garibaldi. —Victor Hugo's Speech. — The 
Representatives of Alsace and Lorraine — Stormy Sittings. —Victor Hugo's Resignation. — Death of 
Charles Hugo.— His Funeral.— The Poet in Brussels — Request of M. Xavier de Montipin 232 



CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Victor Hugo's Opinion of the Commune.— Tlie Communists in liiUBsels T)ic Belgian Cliamlier. ^Attack 

upon Victoi- Hugo's Quarters.— Expulsion from Belgium.— Protest against tlie Action of the Govern- 
ment. — A Visit to TliionviUe. — Reminiscences of General Uugo- — Little Georges and the Prussian 
General.— Return to Fiance Page 237 

CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Votes Ohtaiiied iu July, 1871 The Mandat Imperati/ mi the Mandat Con(rac(ue(.— Election of January, 1872. 

— "La Liheratioii du Territoire." -Death of Fruufois Hugo His Funeral.- Speech by Louis Blanc. — 

Funeral of Madame Louis Blanc— The Poet's Creed. — " L'Aunde Terrible " 241 

CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"Quatre-vhigt-treize."— Criticism.— Article by M. Escoffler. —Victor Hugo's Good Memory "Mes Fils."— 

"Actes et Paroles."— •■ Pour un Soldat."— Second Series of "La Legende des Siecles."— The Rue de 
Clichy.—Eeceptions.— Conversation 246 

CHAPTER XXXV. 

" L'Art d'Gtre Grand-p^re." --Georges and Jeanne. — Romps, Tales, and Diversions. — " L'Histoii-e d*un 
Crime" 250 

CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Victor Hugo's Creed. — Belief in the Immortality of the Soul. — Accusation of Being an Atheist. — "Le Pape." 
— "Religions et Religion." — "La Pitie Supreme." — "L'Aue" 254 

CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Revival of " Heruani."— Banquet in Celebration. — Revivals of " Ruy Bias," "Notre Dame de Paris," and 
" Les Miserables. "—Saint- Victor on Victor Hugo's Vitality.— Banquet at the Hotel Continental, February 
26, ISSO.— Victor Hugo's Speech 258 

CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Victor Hugo as a Draughtsman.— His First Effort. — His Subsequeut Progress. — His Admiration of Albert 
Diirer. — Album Published by Castel. — Letter of Victor Hugo to Castel. — New-year's Gifts. — Caricaturea. 
— Victof Hugo'a Haudwriting.— M. Jules Olaretie's Observation.— Destination of Manuscripts 262 

CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Retirement from Senatorial Life. — Re-elected in 1S76. — Recent Political Sentiments.— Speech at Chateau 
d'Eau.— Couveraation at Home.— Anticipations for the Futui f 2C5 

CHAPTER XL. 

Present Residence of the Poet— Domestic Habits.— Economy of Time.— Fete of February 27, 18SL— Proces- 
sion of Children. — Address of Corporations.— Speech iu Reply.- Illumination of Theatres.— The Poet's 
Coutiuued Work. — Works yet to Appear.— Conclusion 268 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGE 

Victor Hugo FnnMspi,ce. 

Victor HrGo's Birthplace at Besan^on xviii 

Bust oi- Vic I'oii H uoo ^^j 

Lie SiKCLic r>K V. H iGc 1 25 

General Hugo, Victor Hugo's Father 27 

Thp: "Well in the Garden 30 

The Garden of the Feuillantines 33 

General Lahorie 3g 

The Journey to Spain 39 

Young Patriots 40 

Tutor ani » Pl:pil 41 

Recreation 40 

Theatrical Perfou.mance at tihc Pension Decotte 47 

" The Nonsense that I M'p.ote Beidre I was Born " 48 

Chateaubriand 51 

A Black Flag was Hois iei> on the iMountain ( •• Bug-Jargal ") 53 

Victor Hugo Ar his Mother's Bedside 57 

Lajiartine 59 

A Pro\-ocation 63 

The Roo-m in the Rue du Dragon 65 - 

Han d'Islande 69 

Charles Nodier 70 

Romanticism 75 

Caricature of a Classic 77 

Oliver Cromwell 83 

An Old House in Bi.ois 85 

Alexandre Dujias 88 

Didier in " Marion Delorsie " 89 

Dona Sol in " Hernani " 93 

Theophile Gautier in 1860 97 

" Young France " Outside the Theatre Francais 99 

Triboulet in " Le Roi s'Ajiuse " 109 

Mlle. Georges as Lucrkce Borgia 112 

Mlle. Juliette as Princess Negroni 113 



xvi LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



PAGK 



GOIILATUOMBA IN ■' RuY BlAS " H^ 

Saka la Baignkuse ('■ Les Oeiestales ") 122 

Victor Hugo at the Age of Twenty-eight 123 

" Les Feuilles d'Automne " '27 

" Go, jiy Soul," etc 129 

La Esmekalda 139 

NoTEE Dame de Paris 141 

Castle on the Khine 143 

Victor Hucio's House in the Place Koyale 145 

The Salon in the Place Eoyale 147 

Charles Vacquerie 148 

The Accident at Villequier 150 

An Attack 151 

Victor Hugo and Louis Philippe 157 

An Episode of the Coup d'Etat (•' Les Chatiments ") 1C5 

A Jersey Landscape 171 

The Exile 172 

Victor Hugo's Bedrooji at Marine Terrace 173 

The Greenhouse at Marine Terrace 174 

Victor Hugo amidst the Jersey Rocks , 175 

"Les Chatiments " 179 

Madame Victor H ugo 182 

L^TiTiA Rerum 183 

The Jersey Rocks 187 

Jeannie (" La Legende des SiEcles ") 188 

The Cedar (" La Legende des Sikcles ") 189 

The Oak Gallery in Hauteville House 191 

Victor Hugo's Study at Hauteville House 193 

Jean Vaijean (" Les Miseeables ") I95 

Gavroche (" Les MisiSrables ") 197 

The Dinner to Poor Children 201 



Fantlne. . 



202 



Chaeles Hugo 205 

John Brown 209 

An Ovation 213 

The Exile's Rock in Guernsey 215 

" L'Hosime qui Rit " 216 

Paul Meurice 220 

Auguste Vacquerie 221 

Madajvie Paul Meurice 227 

Performance at the Theatre FR^isgAis 231 

Garibaldi 233 

Charles Hugo's Funeral 234 

A Night Attack in Brussels 239 

Francois Victor Hugo 242 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. xvii 



TASK 



L'AnnbSe Tekeible 245 

Petit Paul (" La Li^ende des Singles ") 247 

Matha (" La Legende des SiiIcles ") 251 

Oeorges and Je.inne (" L'Akt d'etre Geand-pkke ") 252 

Le Pape 255 

" HEKNAJir," Act IV., Scese IV 257 

The " Golden Wedding " of " Hernani " 25!! 

Don Cc!sar de Basan (" Ruy Blas ") 201 

Victor Hugo's II and 2G4 

Victor Hugo's Garden in the Avenue d'Evlau 209 

Victor Hugo in his Si'udy 270 

The Salon in the Avenue d'Eylau 271 

The Poet's House on February 27, 1881 273 

The Children's Greetlsg 274 

2 




VIOTOK HUGO'S BIRTHPLACE AT BESANIJON. 



INTRODUCTION. 



The 27th of December, 1880, was a fete 
day at Besangon. The houses in the pictur- 
esque old town, which dates further back 
than the Roman conquest, were hung with 
flags, and the echoes of music came baclc 
from the surrounding hills. On the banks 
of the river, in the streets, and in the squares, 
a well-dressed crowd was awaiting a ceremo- 
nial of honor. One name was upon every 
lip — that name was Victor Hugo. 

A torch -light procession had opened the 
rejoicings on the evening of the preceding 
day, which was Sunday. Rain was now 
falling steadily, but no unfavorableness of 
weather seemed to damp the ardor of the 
citizens. 

At half -past twelve the principal people of 
the town, and the visitors — many of whom 
had come from Paris — assembled at the mai- 
rie, thence to proceed to the Place St. Quen- 
tin. 

The cortege was headed by the town bands, 
and escorted by a detachment of soldiers. 

M. Oudet, the Mayor, had on his right M. 
Rambaud, the chief secretary to the Minister 
of Public Instruction, and on his left Gener- 
al WoME, commander of the C(yrps d'Armee. 
After them came deputations from the Sen- 
ate and the Chamber of Deputies, generals, 
university dons, the nephew of the President 
of the Republic, the Rector of the Academy, 
the Prefect, the Municipal Councillors, and 
members of the press. 

Victor Hugo himself was represented by 
M. Paul Meurice. 

With the exception of a few residences of 
the aristocracy, well-nigh every house along 
the route was gayly decorated. 

The deputations halted in front of a house 
in the street facing the Place St. Quentin. 
Here a large platform had been erected, cov- 
ered with evergreens and flags that bore the 
initials V. H. worked in gold. The adjoin- 



ing windows were all decorated with camel- 
lias in full bloom, and surmounted with es- 
cutcheons that were inscribed with the names 
of "Hernani," "Ruy Bias," and other writ- 
ings of the poet. 

As soon as the audience had taken their 
places, the Mayor introduced the name of the 
great author in whose honor they had met, 
and whose birth they were about to celebrate. 
His speech was interrupted by long and loud 
applause, and at the close of it a curtain of 
crimson velvet was removed from between 
the two first-floor windows, uncovering a 
memorial plate which henceforth will claim 
the attention of every passer-by. 

This plate, or rather medalUon, which is at- 
tached to the front of the house, is of bronze. 
It represents a five -stringed lyre with two 
laurel branches of gold, and bearing an in- 
scription which, according to the poet's ex- 
press desire, consists simply of his name and 
the date of his birth — 

VICTOR HUGO: 
26th op Febkuakt, 1803. 

The lyre is surmounted by a head, typical 
of the Republic, surrounded by rays.* 

Before the acclamations died away, a little 
girl, the daughter of tue proprietor of the 
house, came forward with a splendid bouquet 
for Victor Hugo, which was handed by the 
mayor to M. Paul Meurice. 

Leaving the Place St. Quentin, the cortege 
adjourned to the stage of the Besan9on The- 
atre, on the centre of which had been placed 
a fine bust of Victor Hugo, executed by Da- 
vid. The boxes, balcony, and orchestra were 
already occupied by such as had been admit- 
ted by tickets; but immediately on the arri- 
val of the procession, the doora of the house 



^ A wood-cut of the medallion is given on the first 
page of this volume. 



INTRODUOTION. 



were thrown open, and the general public 
crowded in and filled the place to overflow- 
ing. When quietness was obtained, the 
Mayor, in a short speech, related what had 
just taken place in front of the now famous 
house, and called upon M. Rambaud to ad- 
dress the assembly. 

M. Rambaud spoke not merely as the rep- 
resentative of the Minister of Public Instruc- 
tion, but likewise as a native of Besan9on. 
He made a vigorous sketch of the career of 
the great man they had met to honor. He 
told of the struggles which we are about to 
record; he dwelt upon his great literary bat- 
tles, his gradual attainment of victory over 
thought and intellect, his ever-increasing in- 
fluence, his development as a politician, his 
internal conflicts, and his final triumph; he 
depicted his eighteen years' duel with the 
Empire and his ultimate success; he touched 
upon the leading characteristics of all hia 
lyrical, dramatic, and historical writings; 
and concluded by describing how, after a 
life fraught with conflicts, trials, and sor- 
rows, he found his recompense in the re- 
vival of his country, in the progress of de- 
mocracy, and, not least, in the peaceful 
joys of home and in the society of his 
grandchildren. 

In the name of Victor Hugo, M. Paul Meu- 
rice returned his cordial thanks. 

A concert followed, of which the words 
that were set to music were aU extracts from 
Victor Hugo's poetry. Various selections 
from his works were likewise recited. M. 
Paul Meurice next read a letter from the 
hero of the day himself. 

" December, ISSO. 

"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-citi- 
zens his efl'orts to diminish human suffering. 
he can but offer to God his indomitable faith 
in the growth of liberty. 

"Victor Hugo." 

In the midst of a perfect hurricane of 
cheers, the marble bust was crowned with a 
wreath of golden laurel, and one hundred 
and fifty musicians performed the "Marseil- 



laise," the whole audience standing. The 
crowd then left the theatre, all shouting 
vociferously, "Vive Victor Hugol" Vive la 
Republiquel" 

In the evening the town was illuminated, 
and over a hundred guests sat down to a 
banquet in the fine dining-room of the Pa- 
lais Granvelle, where many more speeches 
were delivered. 

The fete was unique of its kind. 

It is our object in the following pages, 
which are dedicated to Victor Hugo and his 
century (for the century must ever be associ- 
ated with his name), to testify our admira- 
tion for a man whose every action com- 
mands our respect; for the writer who has 
infused new life into the antiquated diction 
of our language; for the poet whose verses 
purify while they fascinate the soul ; for the 
dramatist whose plays exhibit his sympathy 
with the unendowed classes; for the histori- 
an who has branded with ignominy the tyr- 
anny of oppressors; for the satirist who has 
avenged the outrages of conscience; for the 
orator who has defended every noble and 
righteous cause; for the exile who has stood 
up undaunted to vindicate justice ; and, final- 
ly, for the master-mind whose genius has 
shed a halo of glory over Prance. 

The task before us is not an easy one; but, 
aided by many who have given their own 
personal reminiscences, and having enjoyed 
various opportunities of conversation with 
Victor Hugo himself, in which we have 
gathered not a few unpublished anecdotes, 
we shall trust to fidfil our undertaking not un- 
worthily. It is the small coin of a great his- 
tory that we have been collecting, and which 
in its aggregate is offered to the acceptance 
of our readers. If the contemporaries of 
Homer or Dante were alive, with what in- 
terest we should learn from their lips any 
fresh details of the doings of those giants of 
literature ! And something of the same kind 
of eagerness, we would believe, will be felt 
even now in following the career of the great 
genius of our own age. 

We have described the enthusiasm and 
pride that reigned in the streets of Besangon 
on the memorable fete day in December, 
1880; that enthusiasm will still be felt ev- 
erywhere, and that pride will never dimin- 
ish. Renown will not fail to attend the name 
of Victor Hugo. 




BUST OF VICTOK HUGO. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER I. 

Genealogy. — Family Arni;?. — Bishop of Ptolemaide. — Count Leopold Sigisben Hugo, Father of Victor.— 
Hi.-i Mother. — Maternal Descent, — Sponsors. — Certiticate of Biitli, — Sigiiilicatioii of Name. — Verses iu 
"Lcs Feuillcs d'Automue." — Opinion of Bisontins. — Besanpon never Visited by Victor Hugo. 



The Hugo familj^, whose members have iu 
latter times become illustrious both in litera- 
ture and in arms, were originally natives of 
Lorraine. In the course of last century 
their genealogical tree was carefull}' drawn 
up by D'Hozier in the fourth registry of the 
French peerage. 

Georges Hugo, the son of Jean Hugo, a 
captain in the army of Renii II., Duke of 
Lorraine, resided at Rouvroi-sur-Meuse, and, 
on the 14th of April, 1535, obtained letters- 
patent of nobility for himself and his de- 
scendants from Cardinal Jean de Lorraine, 
Archbishop of Rheims. These letters dated 
from Lillebonne in Normandy, and the en- 
noblement was afterwards confirmed on Oc- 
tober 16, 1537, by Autoine, Duke of Lor- 
raine, brother of the cardinal, by other let- 
ters-patent dated from Nancy. They testify 
that although Georges Hugo was quite 
young when he obtained his warrant of no- 
bility, he had already seen much active ser- 
vice; also that he had married a lady of Bla- 
mont of noble birth. 

The arms of the ancient Hugo family are ; 
Azure; on a chief argent two martlets sable; 
on the escutcheon a vol banneret azure bear- 
ing a f esse argent. In the arms of the house 
of Lorraine itself there are three martlets ar- 
gent, so that the duke could scarcely have 
conferred higher dignity on his captain. 

Charles Hyaeinthe Hugo, the fifth descend- 
ant from Georges, obtained fresh letters-pat- 
ent; and his grandson, Sigisbert Hugo, com- 
menced service in 1788. 

Although the authenticity of this descent 
has been questioned by certain genealogists, 
who assert that Victor Hugo's grandfather 



was engaged in trade, it appears to admit of 
no question. It is, indeed, ciuite likelj^ that 
the statement is true, inasmuch as many of 
the most illustrious families have had to sub- 
mit to reverses; but it does not leave it the 
less certain that Victor Hugo, who would 
never blush to own himself of humble ex- 
traction if he were so, and who estimates 
men solely by their merits, is nevertheless a 
scion of that ancient nobility that earned its 
venerable titles by services rendered to the 
commonwealth. 

The roll of the poet's celebrated ancestors 
includes Charles Louis Hugo, the French his- 
torian, who died in 1739. After gTaduating 
as doctor in theology, he devoted himself for 
some time to tuition, and subsec[uently estab- 
lished a printing-press in the monastery of the 
order of the Premonstrants, to which he had 
attached himself for the purpose of advancing 
learned studies. The result of a long dis- 
pute which he had with the Bishop of Toul 
was that Pope Benedict III. gave .iudgment 
in his favor, and, moreover, bestowed upon 
him the title of Bishop of Ptolemaide. He 
was equally well known as Abbe of Estival. 
He was the author of several books, one, 
among others, published under the nom de 
'plume of Baleicourt, being a critical and his- 
torical treatise on the ' ' Origin and Geneal- 
ogy of the House of Lorraine ;" it appeared 
at Nancy in 1711. Another of liis works, 
comprising the history of Lorraine, was is- 
sued under the nom de 'pluiiie of Jean Pierre 
Louis, P.P. y- 

Our jioet's father, having obtained the rank 
of general under the first Empire, had really 
the right to assume the title of count, and to 



34 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



transmit it as hereditary ; but he never avail- 
ed himself of tlie privilege, although Louis 
XVIII., in an order dated November 14, 

1814, confirmed him in his rank of major- 
general from September 11, 1813. A son of 
the Eevolution, he resigned bis sword in 

1815. More than one of his associates re- 
mained in the service until 1830, and some 
even until 1848; but he was not a man to 
make any compromise with his conscience. 

Brief as this sketch of his genealogy may 
be, it will sutflce to exhibit how the blood of 
Lorraine flows in Victor Hugo's veins; his 
forefathers " avaient donjon sur roche et fief 
dans la campagne. " 

Any notice of this kind, however, would be 
altogether incomplete without mention of his 
descent by his mother's side. She was the 
daughter of a wealthy ship-owner at Nantes, 
and granddaughter of one of the leaders of 
the bourgeaisie of the province that was so 
long and faithfully the valiant defence of 
Catholic loyalty. She was also a cousin of 
Constantino Francois, Count de Chassebceuf, 
universally known as Volney, the author of 
" Les Ruines," a book which, although anti- 
quated, and apparently on the way to be for- 
gotten, yet contains many eloquent and strik- 
ing passages upon the fate of empires. Anoth- 
er cousin was Count Cornet, who played no 
inconsiderable part in political affairs, both 
during the first Empire and before its time. 

A few words must be said about the per- 
sonal history of the poet's parents. 

Joseph Leopold Sigisbert Hugo was born 
in Nancy, and at the age of fourteen was en- 
rolled as a military cadet. His family may, 
without exaggeration, be described as a race 
of heroes: five of his brothers were killed 
during the wars of the Revolution ; the sixth 
became a major in the infantry, while he 
himself, the father of the illustrious son 
whose name will ever be associated with the 
nineteenth century, rose to the rank of gen- 
eral. 

After being appointed aide-de-camp and 
secretary to General Alexandre Beauharnais, 
Josej^h Hugo left him almost immediately, 
in order to follow his intimate friend, Gen- 
eral Muscar, into La Vendee. It was the 
company under the command of this officer 
which captured Charette in the woods of 
Chabotifere in 1795. In the course of the 
campaign, young Hugo had many opportu- 
nities of exhibiting his courage and good- 
nature, and earned his captain's epaulets. 

His duties very frequently took him into 



Nantes, where he became acquainted with a 
ship-owner named Trebuchet, who had three 
daughters, one of whom, Sophie, soon stole 
the captain's heart and subsequently became 
his wife. 

There is no need here to recapitulate all 
the details of the union; they have already 
been recounted in Madame Victor Hugo's 
book. The marriage took jjlace in Paris, 
whither the bridegroom had been summoned 
as reporter to the first council of war on the 
Seine. Two sons, Abel and Eugene, were 
born in succession ; and shortly after the birth 
of the latter the father had to start off on the 
Rhine campaign, being appointed attache to 
General Moreau, the chief of whose staff 
was Adjutant - general Victor Lahorie and 
his aide-de-camp Brigadier Jacques Delelee, 
of Besanc;on. With both of these otficers 
Major Hugo formed an intimate acquaint- 
ance. 

His character is described in the ' ' Biogra- 
phic des Contemporains " as a happy mixt- 
ure of candor, honesty, and benevolence. He 
was intelligent in his conversation, which was 
ever full of interesting reminiscences equal- 
ly amusing and instructive. As an author 
he has left some important military works, 
which we shall subsequently have occasion 
to notice. He set his children a fine exam- 
ple of duty, being ever their instructor in the 
paths of honor. 

On his return from the Rhine he had at- 
tained commander's rank ; and in the begin- 
ning of 1801 he was appointed to the com- 
mand of the fourth battalion of the twentieth 
half -brigade, then quartered at Besangon. 

At that time Jacques Delelee, Moreau's 
aide-de-camp, had recently returned to Besan- 
9on, and was residing with his young wife, 
Marie Anne Dessirier, in a hou.se in the Rue 
des Granges. This lady, who died in 1850, 
used often to relate the .story of Victor Hu- 
go's birth. 

On his arrival at the town, Major Hugo 
took up his residence witli his old friend De- 
lelee, partaking of his hospitality for a period 
of three months. At the end of that time he 
sent for his wife and two children, and rent- 
ed the first floor of a house in the Place du 
Capitole. 

Though the wife of a soldier of the Revo- 
lution and of the Empire — a man personally 
attached to Desaix, Jourdan, and Joseph 
Bonaparte — Madame Hugo was herself the 
friend of Madame La Rochejaquelein. A 
true Vendean, she was intelligent, brave, and 



26 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



gentle, and a sincere, though by no means 
bigoted, Catholic. She was a model mother. 

Within a year after she had rejoined her 
husband, the birth of a third child was an- 
ticipated. Major Hugo, having already two 
sons, expressed a hope that it would be a 
girl, and announced his intention of naming 
her Victorine. A godmother was already 
determined on in the person of Madame De- 
lelee, but a godfather had still to be sought, 
and it occurred to the parents to ask General 
Lahorie, who was then in Paris, to undertake 
the sponsorship. Madame Hugo submitted 
her request in such a charming letter that 
the general did not hesitate to acquiesce in 
her desire. 

In due time the child was born, but it 
proved another boy — a miserable little creat- 
ure, more dead than alive. Its decrepit 
condition made it indispensable that the 
infant should be baptized at once ; a hurried 
visit, however, to the mairie was previously 
made, where the register subjoined was en- 
tered: 



On the opening page of the "Feuilles 
d'Automne," Victor Hugo has written some 
well-known lines, which form a sort of poet- 
ical paraphrase of the above register of his 
birth. They run somewhat to this effect : 

" This ceulury two years had rolled along, 
Wheu iu Besanpon, citadelled and strong, 
A little babe was born, the heir of pain, 
A scion both of BreLagne and Lorraine ; 
A little babe, so fragile and so weak. 
It seemed to come to life its death to seek ; 
So delicate, its like 'twere rare to tind, 
A tiny seed blown helpless by the wind; 
A mere chimera — yea, a thing of naught — 
To rear it must exceed a mother's thought: 
Asleep, its head bent down upon its breast. 
It looked to take upon its bier its rest. 
That little babe myself! And ah 1 how well 
I might the story of my progress tell ! 
How, all-responsive to my mother's prayer, 
How, all-succeeding to my mother's care, 
I gaiu'd new life, found day by day new pow'r, 
And tliiough her love survive to see this hour ; 
A guardian dear, a very angel she 
To all her sons, but most of all to me I" 

The verses in the original are very fine; 
but we may leave them without further 



EXTRAIT DE NAISSANCE 



■4^u'/u-'A 



Natssanct. Du ■^u'/u^'Xt-^ia iiwi$da I^Ke^f^U-' y^a2'i'y d« I» IWpublique' 
Actc de naissaiu:e dc ^/^<n.,/i//a^c*^ -n/t^j ■ ^ 

/y , ,^ "' J-V/'/*'' ■^'^"^ ^y'y ''""" ia^'^t^^'"' ftl5 itif^/.S^if^fi 



>^*ff ♦demcuranc i fygj^at^^^ :=- maries, presence par/f4^A<v^>y^'^ 
V I ^i^t^f^ -^u^ '-'^=-— le sexe de Tenfanc a ete leconnu ctre /r^^-^ 



'Premier tcmoifl yV.^,;,-)?^,^^.. c^/h M^i tJ^ P^^'j^j^ftr/ZM 
Sg4 da •3tc^znliici •==■ ^=.ans, domitilie ku ici^ /^Ja-^e^t.-^ 

Second temoin , /na.ue-Au.tuj'ivMi^ c/!aui^ ?ic iij- S^tlSS^ =. , 
agtedo i/.iaA cf-^u'iif =s*ans, domicilie i /".,>. v^,^. ^, 

.'^jjj.la r<qui.ition i nouj faitp fu ^C^^-./ruyfl/C -el'^.-^'^U^^Hi/ 



Cowiue siirvanc la loi, par moi €:^,T.iU^ •» •• rn.iA c/^. 
a.Pji,'^f- ^,1^ Maire ia aT^Cf,i.-'^.^:^,ii\iin les tonciiuDi 
d'Officier public de I'iiat civil. ,y, / "" 



It will be observed that Madame Delelee 
figures as a witness, women at that time 
having the right to act in such a capacity. 
Madame Hugo recovered so quickly from 
her confinement that twenty-two days later 
she appeared as witness to the birth-register 
of the son of one of her husband's fellow- 
officers, which bears her signature. She was 
at that date twenty -five years of age, her 
husband being twenty-eight. 



comment, to inquire into the significance of 
their author's illustrious name. 

In Old German the word "Hugo" is the 
equivalent of the Latin " spiritus, " betoken- 
ing breath or life. To this cognomen were 
prefixed the names Victor Marie, being those 
of the two sponsors. General Victor Fanneau 
de Lahorie and Madame Delelee, and not in- 
aptly has it been remarked that "the north- 
ern appellation was mellowed by the south- 





■ 


^^^^^^^^^^^H^^^^^^^^^^K^ "*^ »■ ^^Mjj^^r igHHI 


I^^hUH 




^^^^^HH 




I^^B 




^^I^^^^B^^^^^^^H 



GENERAL HUGO, VICTOR HUGO S FATHER, 



38 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



crn, the Roman came iu to give completeness 
to the Teuton." As Alexandre Dumas the 
elder has finely rendered it, ' ' the name of 
Victor Hugo stands forth as the conquering 
spirit, the triumphant soul, the breath of vic- 
tory!" 

And it is indeed no exaggeration to main- 
tain that his is eminently a triumphant soul 
of this our century, so that the men of Be- 
san^on may fitly glory in the master-mind 
that, as it were by chance, first saw the light of 
day among them. The people of the place 
declare that, although it was the blood of 
Brittany and Lorraine that circulated in his 
veins, it was not solely to his mother's care, 
but to the salubrity of the_ climate, that he 
owed his life ; they boast that the pure air of 
Franche-Comte, the air which makes sound 
bodies and sound minds, rendered him ab- 
solutely one of themselves. They further 
maintain that Besan^on was never a truly 
Spanish town, but that for centuries before it 
belonged to France it had had an independent 
existence, preserving its municipal institu- 
tions intact ; and that, with the pure air of its 
mountains, it had handed down to its chil- 
dren from generation to generation those 
principles of liberty and equality which Vic- 
tor Hugo imbibed with his mother's milk. 

An impartial historian cannot ignore the 



fact that Victor Hugo was born with a 
thoroughly sound constitution. Sickly and 
feeble though he looked, he had a good broad 
chest and pair of shoulders, and was what- is 
generally termed stoutly built. To this, as 
well as to the untiring care and attention 
that he received from his mother, he was in- 
debted for his life. 

Entered in the register as a soldier's son, 
Victor Hugo left Besangon while still an in- 
fant in long clothes, and has never since 
visited his birthplace. Not even in Decem- 
ber, 1880, was he able to proceed thither; and 
although more than once he has formed the 
project of undertaking the journey, his inces- 
sant labors have alwaj's interfered to hinder 
him from carrying out his purpose. 

Unlike Lamartine, who makes frequent 
mention of the scenes of his childhood, and 
speaks again and again of Milly and Saint- 
Point, Victor Hugo would appear never to 
have introduced the name of his birthplace 
except in the verses already referred to. He 
knew no particulars about the house in which 
he first saw the light, and the regard which 
has recently been bestowed upon the build- 
ing, under the presidency of the mayor of the 
town, has made him acquainted with various 
particulars which have now become matters 
of history. 




no Ton Huoo and ms time. 



39 



CHAPTER II. 

Infancy. — Fi-oni Besanfoii to Marseilles. — From Marseilles to Elba. — First Stay in Paris. — 'I'lie House in the 
Rne (le Clicliy. — The Well in tbe Court-yard.— Deiiartiire for Italy.— Ueniiniscences of the Journey.— 
Early Impressions, — Victor Hugo's own Account of Youthful Travels. — The Marble Palace of Avelliuo. 
— Colonel Hugo in Spain with Joseph Bonaparte. — Return of the Family to Paris. 



The new-born infant, the third son of 
Major Hugo, was unlike either of his elder 
brothers. 

Abel, the oldest of the three, exhiljited that 
healthy robustness which ever charms the eye. 
Eugene's constitution was such as to give no 
anxiety, but Victor remained so sickly that 
for fifteen months after his birth his shoul- 
ders seemed incapable of supporting the 
weight of his head, of which it has been said 
that, "as if already containing the gei'ms of 
mighty thought that were awaiting their de- 
velopment, it could not be prevented from 
falling prone upon his breast." 

With the perseverance characteristic of a 
true mother, Madame Hugo succeeded in res- 
cuing her cliild from the very jaws of death, 
and not only ditl he grow up himself to en- 
joy a life of health and vigor, but he has im- 
parted life to an entire nation by his books, 
his sentiments, his intellect, antl his example 
The generations of the present arc animated 
by his spirit; tlie generations of the future 
will not cease to feel its influence still. 

While it was as yet quite uncertain 
whether the sinister forebodings of the accou- 
cheur who had assisted at his birth would not 
be realized, Victor Hugo, at the age of six 
weeks, was taken from Besanfon and carried 
off on a toilsome journey to Marseilles. 
Here, before long, his mother was obliged to 
leave him, having to go to Paris to endeavor 
to obtain a change of brigade for her hus- 
band. The httlc infant suffered very keenly 
from the separation, and it is said shed floods 
of tears over the bonbons with which his 
father tried to console him for his loss. 

It was some months before Madame Hugo 
rejoined her family. Her application had 
not been attended with the success she an- 
ticipated. The reward that her husband ob- 
tained for his services was little better than 
exile, for he received orders to take command 
of a garrison in the Isle of Elba. Thus it 
fell out, as Alexandre Dumas has remarked 



in his "Memoires," that the author of the 
" Ode a la Colonne " devait commenaer A vivre 
in the very island where the great Napoleon 
devait aiiamencer d mourir. 

The first language, therefore, spoken by 
Victor was Italian — the Italian of the Isles; 
and the first word he was known to speak 
after the articulation of papa, mamma, which 
is common to children of every tongue, was 
the term eattica (naughty), which he applied 
to his nurse. 

Moving from island to island, the family 
proceeded from Porto Ferrajo to Bastia; but 
of these various peregrinations the child's 
mind did not retain a shadow of remem- 
brance, and the first intercourse which he 
had with the worlil on the threshold of his 
existence would appear to have left no trace 
upon his memory. 

Nevertheless, it has been written that "the 
first scene upon which his eye fell with any 
iutelligcnoe was the rugged outline of the 
obscure spot since so famous. Already for- 
tuitous circumstances were bringing his 
young life into harmony with the grear des- 
tiny that lay before him; the thread, frail 
and all but invisible, was already being 
mingled with the splendid woof, and was 
running, hidden though it might be for a 
time, beneath the new-made purple of which 
he was to dignify the last shred." * 

After a yetir marked by many vicissitudes, 
Victor Hugo's father was summoned to join 
the army in Italy. Joseph Bonaparte, hith- 
erto plenipotentiary, had jtist been nomi- 
nated King of Naples; and retaining a kind 
remembrance of his friend the major at Luue- 
villo and Besan9on, he invited him to join 
his fortunes and to assist him in establishing 
his throne in that goodly city of which it lias 
been said that ' ' a man should see Naples and 
die." The officer had recently been promot- 
ed to the rank of lieutenant-colonel, or, as it 



* " Biographie Rabbe et Boisjoliu '* (1S34). 



30 



VtGTOB HUGO AND BIS TtMS. 



was at that period more generally designated, 
gros-major. 

Napoleon, having long treated this faithful 
soldier with much injustice, now deigned to 
signify his assent to his change of service, 
adding that he was pleased to see the French 
element among his brother's forces, which 
were the wings of his own army. 

Accordingly the lieutenant-colonel joined 
King Joseph, but, concerned for his family, 
and aware that they could hardly fail to suf- 
fer from a continuation of their wandering 
life, he determined to send them to Paris, 
where they arrived at the end of 1805 or early 
in the following year. 

Madame Hugo, with her three young chil- 
dren, took up her abode at 34 Rue de Clichy. 
The house, like most of those in which the 
poet spent his early days, has been entirely 
destroyed, and its site is now occupied by 
the square surrounding the Church of the 
Holy Trinity. 

This is the first place of residence of which 
Victor Hugo has any distinct recollection. 
As he has himself informed us, there was a 
goat in the court-yard, and a well overhung 




THE WELI, TS THE GARDEN. 

by a weeping willow, and not far from the 
well stood a cattle-trough. 

Round this well he used to play, having 
for his companion young Delon, who was 
subseqiieutly condemned on account of the 
Saumur affair, and died in Greece while com- 
manding Lord Byron's artillery. Victor was 
sent to school in the Rue de Mont-Blanc, 
where he was treated with special care on 
account of his remaining so delicate; he was 
habitually so low-spirited that no one except 
his mother could ever make him smUe. 



Meanwhile the gros-major was commis- 
sioned to capture Fra Diavolo, the bandit- 
patriot who was disputing Joseph Bona- 
parte's accession to the throne of Naples ; and 
in spite of its difficulty and danger, he accom- 
plished his task, and succeeded afterwards in 
reducing the bands of La Puglia. In ac- 
knowledgment of these services the king 
made him colonel of royal Corsica and gov- 
ernor of AvelUho. 

As soon as peace was restored in Italy, the 
lieutenant-colonel again sent for his wife and 
children; and thus in October, 1807, Victor 
Hugo recommenced the series of travels 
which began before he could walk, and have 
continued throughout his life. It was dur- 
ing this sojourn in Italy that his powers of 
observation began to develop themselves, and 
he received his first artistic impressions. 
Many a time must he have been thrilled with 
his father's stories of the romantic exploits 
of Fra Diavolo ; and although he was only 
five years old at the time, it is certain that he 
never forgot this journey. 

Wearisome as was the route from Paris to 
Naples, it was not devoid of interesting in- 
cidents. A number of these have 
been related in Madame Victor Hu- 
go's book, and others were recount- 
ed by the poet himself to Dumas, 
one of his best of friends. 

Dumas writes : ' ' Often on my 
return from Italy, whither I have 
been some fifteen or twenty times, 
Hugo, who had merely once trav- 
ersed the country, would speak to 
me of the grand aspects of that 
beautiful land which appeared as 
;j », fresh in his memory as if he had 
been my companion in all my jour- 
neys. But he always spoke of ob- 
jects not so much as they really 
were, but in association with some 
accidental circumstance that for the 
time had diverted his attention from 
their normal character. For instance, Parma 
was to him always in the midst of floods; 
the volcanic rock of Aquapendente was be- 
ing rent by the lightning, and Trajan's Col- 
umn never ceased to be surrounded by exca- 
vations at its base. Of other places, such as 
Florence, with its battlemented hostels, its 
massive places and granite fortresses; of 
Rome, with its fountains, its Egyptian-like 
obelisks, and its Bernese colonnade, sister to 
the Louvre; of Naples, with its promenades, 
its Posilippo, its Strada di Toledo, its bay 



Via Ton HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



31 



and Its islands; of Mount Vesuvius — his 
ideas were all as correct as possible. 
****** 

"It was not at Naples that accommoda- 
tion was provided for Madame Hugo and 
her children, but at Avellino, the capital of 
the province of which her husband had been 
appointed governor. The palace in which 
they were quartered, like most of the struct- 
ures in the country where marble is more 
plentiful than stone, was a palace of marble. 
It had one peculiarity that could hardly fail 
to strike the eye of a child, or to make a last- 
ing impression on his memory. One of the 
earthquakes so common in the Italian penin- 
sula had recently shaken Calabria from end 
to end. Like other buildings, the palace at 
Avellino had oscillated in the shock, but be- 
ing substantially based on its foundation, af 
ter tottering till it threatened to fall, it had 
stood its ground, though ominously damaged 
from top to bottom, and diagonally across 
the wall of Victor's room there was a crack 
through wliich he could see the surrounding 
country almost as well as through his window, 

"The i^alace was built upon a kind of 
precipice covered with large nut-trees, pro- 
ducing the huge filberts called ' avelines ' 
after the district in which they gTow. Dur- 
ing the season when the nuts were ripe the 
children spent much of their time in gather- 
ing the clusters, many of which quite over- 
hung the precipice; and then doubtless it 
was that Hugo had his first experience in 
climbing, and gained that indifference to 
crags and precipices which to me, gidd}' as 
I always am on a first-floor balcony, has al- 
ways been a matter of admiration."* 

To some readers these details may seem 
too trivial to merit any record ; but, as the 
brilliant writer al)ove quoted has remarked, 
in treating of an incomparable genius like 
Victor Hugo, who has played so grand a 
part in the literary and political history of 

* "MiJmoires de Dumas." 



his country, it is the duty of one who has 
known him to lay before Uie eyes alike of 
his contemporaries and of posterity every 
possible touch of light and shade which has 
contributed to the character of the man and 
of the poet. 

Madame Hugo and her children did not 
remain in Italy more than a year. In 1808, 
when Napoleon had decided that the Span- 
ish Bourbons were no longer to reign, Jo- 
seph Bonaparte was transferred from Na- 
ples to be King of Spain. Lieutenant-colo- 
nel Hugo followed him to Madrid ; but as he 
was well aware of the hazard involved in 
settling in a country where war was going 
on, and as his wife's health and his chil- 
dren's education had already suffered much 
from their long journeyings, he made up his 
mind to part with them for a time, and sent 
them to Paris. 

Arrived at the capital, Madame Hugo was 
fully resolved to devote herself assiduously 
to the education of her family. Her resi- 
dence in the capacious palace at Avellino 
had made her appreciate the advantages of 
having airy and ample space for the boys to 
play, and she exerted herself to find a house 
with a flower - garden, which at the same 
time should be in the neighborhood of tlie 
schools. 

At first, and with scarcely due considera- 
tion, she took up her abode in a house near 
the Church of St. .Jacques du Haut-Pas. Vic- 
tor Hugo does not recollect the precise spot, 
and does not even know whether the place 
is still in existence; he only remembers that 
the ground-floor on which he lived was ap- 
proached by a passage from tlie street. 

But although the garden was large enough 
for the children's play, the apartments were 
much too small for domestic convenience, 
and had to be given up almost immediately. 
The young family was removed to another 
al)ode not far distant, which, as it became to 
them a more permanent place of residence, 
demands more particular mention. 




S3 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER HI. 

The House in the Impasse des Feuillatitines. — The Garden. — Victor Hugo's own Reminiscences.— Maternal 
Instruction.— Porlrait of Madame Hugo.— Obedience Enforced upon the Children.— The School and the 
Cul-de-sac. — General Lahorie. — His Commeulary on Tacitus. — His Arrest aud Execution. — Departure 
for Spaiu, 



At the end of a kind of cul-de-sac called 
the Impasse des Feuillantines stood No. 13, 
the house to which reference has just been 
made. In his own writings Victor Hugo 
has several times referred to the place in 
terms that we shall presently quote; but he 
has also given the writer of the present bi- 
ography a verbal description of some of the 
leading features of the . dwelling where he 
passed a certain period of his early years. 
He can still picture the handsome grilled 
gateway that had to be passed before enter- 
ing the court-yard leading to the front door. 
On the right hand of the door, and on the 
same level, was an apartment that served as 
a play -room in rainy weather. Immediately 
facing the door was a short staircase that led 
up to the salon, turcugh which, on the left, 
there was access to JMadame Hugo's own 
room, which, in its turn, opened into anoth- 
er room assigned to the children. By the 
side of these were two more apartments, one 
of them the dining-room, the other reserved 
as a spare bedroom. 

The salon was both spacious and lofty. 
At the farther end of it was a flight of steps 
leading down to the garden. Beneath the 
windows were beds of the flowers to which 
Madame Hugo was partial, and to the left 
of the flower-beds was a piece of waste 
land, full of holes and excavations, in the 
middle of which was a puisard, a kind of 
shallow basin, but not containing any wa- 
ter. Here young Victor daily set snares, 
each in its turn more ingenious than the 
last, to catch a salamander, that marvellous 
creature that exists only in juvenile imagi- 
nations. 

At a little distance farther on, shadowed 
by spreading trees, was a long walk leading 
to a patch of wood, the remains of a park 
once attached to the ancient convent of the 
Feuillantines, and quite at the extreme was 
a ruined chapel, and under the chestnut-trees 
hung a swing. Almost close to the front 



door of the house, on the left, was a narrow 
passage reserved for the gardener's use. 
The poet has thus immortalized the scene : 

"Large was the garden, weird its pathways all, 
From curious eyes concealed by upreared wall ; 
The flowers, like opening eyelids, peered around, 
Vermillion insects paced the stony ground. 
Mysterious buzzings tilled the sultry air; 
Here a mere field, a sombre thicket there." 

Again, as late as 1875, Victor Hugo wrote 
some additional touching reminiscences of 
his early years: 

"At the beginning of this century, in the 
most deserted quarter of Paris, in a large 
house, surrounded and shut in by a spacious 
garden, dwelt a little child. The house, be- 
fore the Revolution, had been called the Con- 
vent of the Feuillantines. With that child 
lived his mother and two brothers. Anoth- 
er resident in that household was an aged 
priest, formerly a member of the Oratory, 
still smarting from the persecutions of '93, 
but now a kind aud indulgent tutor, from 
whom the boys learned a good deal of Latin, 
a smattering of Greek, but the barest out- 
lines of history. Concealed by the wide- 
branching trees at the end of the garden 
stood a ruined chapel, to which the children 
were forbidden to go. House, chapel, trees, 
have now all disappeared. The embellish- 
ments so profusely added to the garden of 
the Luxembourg have been extended to the 
Val de Grace, demolishing our humble oasis 
in their progress. A new street, equally 
grand and useless, now passes over its site, 
and of the venerable Convent of the Feuil- 
lantines no vestige remains beyond a plot of 
grass and the fragment of an ancient wall 
visible between the walls of two pretentious 
modern buildings — a mere fragment, not 
worth the trotible of glancing at, except 
with the eye that recognizes it as a souvenir 
of the past. In January, 1871, there was a 
continuation of the work of embellishment; 
a Prussian bomb made choice of this partic- 




THE GARDEN OF THE FEUILLANTINES, 
3 



34 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



ular spot for its descent, so that Bismarck 
completed wliat Haussmann had begun. 

' ' Here, in the time of the first Empire, 
grew up the three brothers. Together in 
their work and in their play, rough-hewing 
their lives regardless of destiny, they passed 
their time as children of the spring, mindful 
only of their books, of the trees, and of the 
clouds, listening to the tumultuous chorus 
of the birds, but watched over incessantly by 
one sweet and loving smile. Blessings on 
thee, O my mother! 

" Upon the walls, half hidden among the 
cankered and unnailed espaliers, every here 
and there, were niches for Madonnas and 
fragments of crucifixes, while occasionally a 
notice-board might be observed bearing the 
inscription ' National Property. ' 

"To the youngest of those three broth- 
ers the house of the FeuiUantines is now a 
dear and hallowed memory. For him it is 
invested with a kind of glamour. There, 
amid sunshine and roses, was mysteriously 
wrought the development of his soul. Noth- 
ing could be more peaceful than that old ruin, 
covered with the beauty of flowers; once a 
convent, now a solitude, ever an asylum; 
and yet the tumult of the Empire awakened 
an echo even there. Within those spacious 
abbey chambers, amid those monastery ruins, 
beneath those dismantled cloister vaults, in 
the interval between two wars, the sound of 
which had reached his ears, the child beheld 
the arrival from the army, and the return to 
the army again, of two soldiers — a young 
general and a colonel, his father and his un- 
cle. The excitement of the paternal home- 
coming had a charm that was merely mo- 
mentary: a tiTimpet-call, and all at once the 
apparition of plumes and sabres vanished 
away, and again there was silence and soli- 
tude in the lonely ruin. 

"And thus, already thoughtful, sixty years 
ago I lived a child ! Only with deep emotion 
can I recall those days. 

"My life glided on amid the flowers. In 
the garden of the FeuiUantines I rambled as 
a child, I wandered as a youtli, watching but- 
terflies, culling buttercups, seeing no one but 
my motlier and my two brothers and the good 
old priest who perambulated the place, his 
book continually beneath his arm. 

"Occasionally I would venture through 
the garden to the gloomy thicket at the end: 
in its dim recesses there would seem no mo- 
tion but the winds; the solitary sound came 
from the birds' nests; no life was manifest 



except in the trees. Gazing through the 
branches, I could espy the crumbling fabric 
of the ancient chapel, and the shattered panes 
enabled me to perceive the sea-shells fantasti 
cally embedded on the inner wall. The birds 
flew in and out of the unprotected windows ; 
for the birds the ruin was a home. God and 
the birds were there together." 

Such are Victor Hugo's own reflections. 

Madame Hugo lived a most retired life, 
entertaining none but a few. intimate friends, 
and devoting herself to her children. Strict 
yet tender, grave yet gentle, conscientious, 
well informed, vigilant, and thoroughly im- 
pressed with the importance of her maternal 
duties, she was a woman of 'superior intel- 
lect, having, however, much of that mascu- 
line disposition which Plato would have de- 
scribed as "royal." She fulfilled her mis- 
sion nobly. Tenderness, not unaccompanied 
by reserve, discipline that was systematic 
and not to be disputed, the slightest of all 
approaches to familiarity, and grave dis- 
courses replete with instruction, were the 
principal features of the training which her 
deep affection prompted her to bestow upon 
her children in general — upon Victor in par- 
ticular. Altogether, her teaching was vigor- 
ous and wholesome, without a touch'of mys- 
ticism or of doubt, and she did her part to 
make her sons worthy of the name of men. 
Happy are those who are nurtured with such 
devotion; the remembrance of its example 
becomes an abiding safeguard ! 

Every word of Madame Hugo's was listen- 
ed to with respect, and every direction obeyed 
without a murmur. Though there were many 
fruit-trees in the garden, the boys were for- 
bidden to touch the fruit. 

"But what if it falls?" asked Victor. 

"Leave it on the ground." 

"And what if it is getting rotten?" 

" Let it get rotten." 

And, as far as the children were concern- 
ed, the fruit on the ground would lie and 
rot. 

The owner of Madame Hugo's house was 
Lalande, the astronomer. He lived next 
door, and his garden was separated from 
that of the FeuiUantines only by some light 
trelli.s-work. Fearing that he should be an- 
noyed by the children, he proposed to put 
up a more substantial partition. 

" You need not be afraid," said the moth- 
er; "my boys will not trespass upon your 
property. I have forbidden them." 

No barrier of any kind was erected, yet 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



35 



neither of the three brothers was ever known 
to set foot upon the landlord's ground. 

At the beginning of their residence in the 
Peiiillantines, and before the arrival of Gen- 
eral Lahorie, Abel, the eldest boy, was placed 
at college, the other two, up to the time of 
their departure to Spain, going daily to a 
school in the Rue Saint Jacques, where a 
worth}' man, le Pere Larivi^re, who, in spite 
of his humble circumstances, was well in- 
formed, instructed the young people of the 
neighborhood in reading, writing, and ele- 
mentary arithmetic. 

Every time the two children returned from 
school they had to pass through groups of 
street - boj's that were always playing in 
the cul-de-mi\ These wore chiefly the sons 
of the cotton-workers, who were verj' numer- 
ous in the neighborhood, as there was a fac- 
tory close by, just opposite the Deaf and 
Dumb Asylum. No doubt both Victor and 
liis brother, left to themselves, would have 
been ready enough lo accept the invitation 
to join in the open-air sports; but their moth- 
er had forbidden it, and accordingly it was 
not to be thought of for an instant. It 
was not without an effort that young Victor 
turned his eye away from the games thr.t 
were going on, and fixed it resolutely on 
the great blank wall on the other side that 
extended half-waj' along the Impasse of the 
Feuillantines, being the side of an old ec- 
clesiastical structure of the seventeenth cen- 
tury. 

Regularly at the same time, day after day, 
an old woman used to pass along the street 
carrying brooms for sale, and Victor Hugo 
can still distinctl}' call to mind the melan- 
choly tone with wdiich she repeated her cry, 
' • Brooms ! birch brooms ! who'll hwy my 
birch brooms'?" 

Many similar circumstances of this time 
J are plainly impressed upon his memory, and 
he recollects how he learned his letters all 
alone by looking at them, and, having ac- 
(juired the knowledge of their form, how 
quickly he learned to spell. 

One remarkable incident, not likely to be 
ever forgotten, was associated with this peri- 
od of convent-like existence. Long ago Vic- 
tor Hugo promised to communicate its de- 
tails, and he has been as good as his word. 
His godfather. General Lahorie, who had 
been implicated in Moreau's affair in 1804, 
had contrived to elude pursuit hy taking ref- 
uge with a friend. There he fell ill, but his 
sense of honor would not allow him to be an 



object of danger to his benefactor. Having 
on one occasion caught sight of an expres- 
sion of alarm on the countenance of his host, 
he felt so convinced that his fever would 
only be aggravated by the feeling that he 
was compromising the safety of his friend, 
that he insisted on being removed in a litter 
that verjr day, and was carried to the house 
in the Rue de Clichy where Madame Hugo 
was residing. With her characteristic fear- 
lessness and generosity, she at once admitted 
the friend of her j'outh ; but he was so agi- 
tated by the fear of exposing her and her 
children to any risk that at the end of 
three daj'S, when his fever had abated, he 
' sought another retreat. In 1809, however, 
worn out with adventures, wearj^ of being 
pursued, and having been driven to every 
stratagem of disguise, he once again pre- 
sented himself at the door of Madame Hugo, 
now settled in the Impasse of the Feuillan- 
tines. 

Here for a while he found a secure refuge; 
the seclusion was complete, and during two 
! j'ears he continued to reside in the place. 
What he was, and how he lived throughout 
that period, may be described in the words 
of his illustrious godson: 

"Victor Fanneau de Lahorie was a gentle- 
man of Brittany who had thrown in his lot 
with the Republic. He was a friend of Mo- 
reau, who was a Breton like himself. In La 
Vendee, Lahorie made acquaintance with 
my father, his junior by live -and -twenty 
3'ears. Sutisequently they were brothers-in- 
arms in the armj' of the Rhine, and their 
friendship became of that intimate nature 
that one would well-nigh have been ready to 
die to save the other. In 1801, Lahorie was 
implicated in Moreau's plot against Bona- 
parte. A price was set upon his head. No 
place of asylum was to be found, when my 
father's doors were opened to him, and the 
ruined chapel of the Feuillantines was pro- 
posed as a safe retreat for the ruined man. 
The offer was accepted as simply as it was 
made, and there, in the shadow of obscurity, 
the refugee passed his lime, 

"None but my father and mother knew 
precisely wlio he was. To us children his 
arrival was a mysterious surprise ; but to the 
old p6re, v^'ho had experienced proscription 
enough during his life to take away aston- 
ishment at anything, a refugee was merely 
a sign of the times, and to be lurking in a 
hiding-place was a matter of course. 

"My mother enjoined upon us boys a si- 



36 



VICTOR UUOO AND HIS TIME. 



lencc which we most scrupulousl}' kept, and 
after a short time the stranger ceased to be a 
mystery, for what satisfaction could there be 
in making a mystery about an ordinary mem- 
ber of a liousehold ? He soon began to share 
the family meals ; he walked about the gar- 
den, sometimes handling a spade to help the 



the air, he would suddenly let me descend to 
within a little of the ground. 

' ' Of his real name I was in ignorance. My 
mother always called him the general : to me 
he was my godfather. 

" Continuing to occupy the ruin at the 
bottom of the garden, he bivouacked there, 




GENERAL LAHORIE. 



gardener ; he gave us good advice, and oc- 
casionally supplemented the lessons of our 
tutor with lectures of his own. He had a 
way of lifting me in his arms that amused 
me, while it caused me some sensation of 
!llarm; after having raised me up high in 



regardless of the rain and snow that in win- 
ter were driven in through the paneless win- 
dow-frames. His camp-bed was under the 
shelter of the altar, and in a corner were his 
pistols, and a Tacitus, which he used to like 
to explain to me. 



VICTOR JIUOO AND HIS TIME. 



37 



'■ 'Child,' he wovild say to me, while cx- 
/ patiiiting on the Roman Republic — ' child, 
everything must yield to liberty.' " 

In this way has the poet sketched one great 
ligure that never disappeared from his hori- 
zon, and of which distance only magnified 
the proportions. Thanks to his teacher, he 
disdained the dead level of the_ university, 
and rose to a free method of his own ! 

As the result of an odious machination, 
Lahorie was discovered and arrested at the 
Feuillantines in 1811, and was cast into a 
prison, which he left only to die. 

Subsequently to the journey to Spain, which 
we are about to describe, and when Madame 
Hugo had returned to the Feuillantines with 
her two youngest children, she was one even- 
ing walking past the Church of St. Jacques 
du Haut Pas. Victor's hand was in his moth- 
er's, when she paused, her eye being attracted 
by a great white placard posted against one 
of the pillars. The passers-by seemed to 
throw but a hurried and unwilling glance 
upon it, and to hasten on their way. Madame 
Hugo, pointing to the placard with her fin- 
ger, said to Victor: 

"Read that!" 

The child repeated aloud, "Empire Fran- 



^ais! By sentence of court-martial, for con- 
spiracy against the Empire and the Emperor, 
the three ex-generals Malet, Guidal, and La- 
horie have been shot on the plain of Gre- 
nelle." 

This was the way in which Victor Hugo 
first became acquainted with his godfather's 
name, and it may readily be imagined how 
bitter and how lasting was the impression 
made by the execution on the ardent mind 
of the child. 

While Lahorie was reaping the reward of 
his high principles in the dungeon of La 
Force, his two }'OUng friends received a visit 
from their uncle, General Loiiis Hugo, who 
came on behalf of his brother to accelerate 
the departure of his family to Spain, where 
the government of the new king seemed to 
be establishing its hold. 

Madame Hugo told her children that they 
would have to know Spanish in three months' 
time. They could speak it at the end of six 
weeks. 

The day before they started, Paris was gay 
with illuminations in honor of the birth of 
the King of Rome, and this was Victor Hugo's 
last vision of the city before his departure 
for Madrid. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER IV. 

From Paris to Bayoiuie.— A Childbh Attachment.— From Bayonne to Madrid.— The Troa^iire and its Con- 
voy.— Arrival iu Madrid.- Residence in the Masserano Palace. — The College of Nol)le.s.— Schooll)<>y 
Fights.— lietnru to the Feniliantines.— Lariviiire's Teaching.— Dangers of Clerical Education.— A Head- 
master " Bald and Black."— Pepita, the Little Spanish Girl. 



A joiiRNET to Madrid at that date was an 
enterprise attended by no inconsiderable dan- 
ger. First of all, thiere was the entire transit 
of France from Paris to Baj'onne, winch, 
though now to be accomplished in a com- 
paratively few hours, in 1811 occupied about 
nine days. Madame Hugo engaged the whole 
of the diligence, which, like all those of the 
period, was painted green, the imperial color, 
and held six passengers inside and three in 
the coupe in front. 

Victor begged to be allowed to make the 
journey in the coupe, and from Poitiers he 
had the company of two strangers, who, 
having represented that they were urgently 
pressed for time, were permitted to have 
seats. One of them, named Isnel, through 
his kind and flattering attentions left a 
lasting impression upon the poet's mem- 
ory. 

On reaching Bayonne the travellers were 
informed that they must wait there a month 
until the arrival of what was called ' ' the 
convoy," being the treasure for King Joseph 
that had to be conveyed through Spain under 
the protection of a large escort. 

That stay at Bayonne Victor Hugo has never 
forgotten. He still remembers the theatre to 
which his mother took him to see the same 
piece several times over. 

Bayonne, too, was the scene of Victor's 
first romance in life, as he here met with a 
little girl with whom he fell deeply in love, 
and was absorbed for the moment in his pas- 
sion; but he had ciuickly to part from the 
little maiden who had inspired it, never to 
see her again. 

In due time the start was made for Madrid. 
As Madame Victor Hugo has recounted the 
principal details of the long journey, it will 
be needful only to insert a few particulars to 
which she has not referred. 

Although Joseph Bonaparte had been pro- 
claimed King of Spain, his authority was prac- 
tically limited to Madrid and to the places 
occupied by the French army. All the rest 



of the country was in a state of revolt; and 
though the passage of an army corps might 
occasionally make a gap in the insurrection, 
the anarchy would immediately again break 
out in the rear. 

To levy any contributions was an utter im- 
possibility. Joseph might declare himself 
King of Spain and of the Indies, though in 
fact he had no possession of either the one 
or the other; but not simply would he have 
been unable to maintain the dignity of a 
court, he would literally have died of starva- 
tion at Madrid, if Napoleon had not regular- 
ly sent him his quarterly stipend as a pre- 
fect of the Empire. 

The sum allotted every year to a prefect 
was 48,000,000 francs ; consequently every 
three months there was an instalment of 
13,000,000 francs to be forwarded to Spain. 
This was known as " le tresor," and was 
most eagerly coveted by the Spanish gueril- 
leros, who more than once succeeded in capt- 
uring it, in spite of the strong escort that was 
sent to protect it on its transit. 

Travellers on their way to Madrid were 
glad to make their journey under the pro- 
tection of these royal convoys. 

Before leaving Bayonne, Madame Hugo, 
to enable her to travel with this safeguard, 
had purchased the only vehicle that was to 
be obtained. It was one of those great lum- 
bering carriages that are now to be seen only 
in Piranesi's drawings, or perchance at some 
pontifical /i^te in the streets of Rome. It may 
be described as a huge box, slung between 
two shafts by means of enormous braces, 
the steps being placed in such a way that, in 
order to get inside, the traveller has to climb 
right over the shaft. It had, hoAvever, one 
advantage; its sides were ball-proof, not to 
be penetrated by bullets or ordinary grape- 
shot ; consequently , on an emergency , it might 
be converted into a fortress. 

Following behind the treasure came a line 
of nearly three hundred vehicles, some drawn 
by four mules.others by dx; altogether form 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



39 



iug a cavalcade more than two miles in length. 
Madame Hugo's carriage was at the head of 
all the rest, immediately in the rear of the 
treasure, which was guarded by five hundred 
men with their muskets loaded. A tile of 
soldiers kept the line, and five hundred more, 
with a large cannon, completed the proces- 
sion, which, as Alexandre Dumas expresses 



an indelible impression upon the mind of the 
child, who afterwards depicted his experi- 
ence in such vivid colors; 

"Before my wondering eye did Spain unfold 
Her prisons, conventte, strnclnrea new and old ; 
Grand Bnrgos' minster reared in Gothic style, 
Iran's strange roofs, Vittoria's lofty pile; 
Nor were thy courts, Valladiilid, forgot 
Where ancient cliain'* in pride were left to rot I" 












i^-p mm 




THE JOrRNEY TO SPAIN. 



it, moved forward "like a great reptile that 
could bite with its head, and sting with its 
tail."* 

After a wearisome journey lasting nearly 
three months, and marked by diversified in- 
cidents, the convoy reached Madrid in June, 
1811. The slow progress through Spain made 

* Alexandre Dumas' "Memoires." 



Madame Hugo's husband was absent from 
Madrid when she arrived. He had risen to 
the rank of general with the title of count, 
and had been made majordomo of the palace 
and governor of two provinces. He had just 
left the capital for his government of Guada- 
lajara, and was now canning on the same 
species of warfare against Juan Martin, known 
as the " Empecinado," on the banks of the 



40 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Tagiis, as he had waged against Charette in 
La Vendee and against Fra Diavolo in Ca- 
labria, He has himself modestly related the 
strategy of the expedition which ended suc- 
cessfully in the capture and execution of the 
guerilla chief. 

The general's family took up their resi- 
dence in the quarters prepared for them in 
the Masserano palace, a handsome building 
of the seventeenth century, furnished mag- 
nificently, but in which the foreign guests 
were kept fully alive to the hatred which the 
Spaniards bore their conquerors. Through- 
out the country Napoleon was universally 
spoken of as Napo-ladron — Napo the robber. 

The gilding of the palace, the sculpture, 
the splendid specimens of Bohemian glass, 
all took a lively hold of young Victor's im- 
agination; and the verses in which he subse- 
quently recounted their magnificence may 
occur to the minds of many. 

Not for long, however, did the children 
enjoy their sumptuous home. When their 
father came back, he entered Abel, the eldest, 
as one of King Joseph's pages ; and as he con- 
templated doing the same with the two oth- 
ers, he soon sent them to the ' ' seminaire des 
nobles " along with the sons of some of the 
Spanish gentry. The school is now a hospital. 

Eugene and Victor were intensely bored 
while at this seminary, learning next to noth- 
ing. Boys older than themselves were in the 
merest rudiments of Latin, and they were, 
moreover, under the superintendence of a 
hypocritical monk whose mode of dealing 
with them was in the highest degree irritating. 

The only breaks in the monotony of that 
year of imprisonment were some schoolboy 
fights. The young Spaniards hated the young 
Frenchmen, and there ensued, in consequence, 
several small duels, in one of which Eugene 
received a wound in his face. Somewhere 
in his writings, the poet alludes to these 
childish fights for " the Great Emperor;" and 
years afterwards, in mentioning them to a 
friend, he observed: 

' ' But the Spaniards were in the right. They 
were contending for their country. Children, 
however, do not understand these things." 

At the end of 1813 and the beginning of 
the following year, affairs assumed a threat- 
ening aspect. As a result of the disasters in 
Russia, the thrones erected in the various Eu- 
ropean capitals began to totter to their fall. 

It was deemed prudent for Madame Hugo 
to quit Madrid. Her eldest son, now a sub- 
lieutenant, remained behind with the general ; 




YOUNG PATRIOTS. 

but the two schoolboys, delighted to regain 
their liberty, accompanied their mother to 
Paris, and, after another journey similar to the 
last, they all took up their abode in their old 
quarters in the Rue des Feuillantines, which 
they had retained throughout their absence. 
Everything was as they had left it; the 
same lights and shadows rested On the home, 
and the flowers were opening to the sun- 
beams. Good old Lariviere, in his long 
frock-coat, came just as before to give the 
young lads their daily lessons. 

Of LariviSre wrote Victor Hugo, years after : 
"His was a name that should ever be men- 
tioned with respect. That a child has re- 
ceived his education from a priest is a cir- 
cumstance to be taken into account with 
much consideration; it is an accident over 
which neither the priest nor the child has 
any control; nevertheless, it is an unhealthy 
union of two intellects, one of them unde- 
veloped, the other shrunken; the one expand- 
ing, the other getting cramped by age. On 
the whole, the advantage would seem to be 
on the side of old-age. In time, the mind of 
a child can free itself from the errors that it 
has contracted from that of an elderly man. 
( "The melancholy part of instruction so 
derived is that all it does for the child is for 
the child's disadvantage; slowly and inap- 
preciably it gives its turn to the intellect; it 
is orthopedy inverted; it makes crooked 
what nature has made straight, and ultimate- 
ly produces as its masterpieces distorted souls 
like Torquemada, unintelligent intelligences 
like Joseph de Maistre, and other victims of 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



41 



the system, who in their turn become its ad- 
vocates and exponents. Teaching of tliis 
character can hardly fail to inoculate young 
intellects with the prejudices of old-age." 
A Certain it is that the brains of children im- 
bibe the ideas of those that bring them up. 
Parents and tutors have a fertile soil wherein 
to sow the seeds of prejudice, which, devel- 

r , >'^-^, 



Any dangerous tendency of the teaching 
of P^re Larivi^re was happily counteracted 
by the gentle and loving good-sense of the 
mother. The basis of her teaching, as one 
of her contemporaries has remarlicd, was 
Voltairianism; but, with a woman's positiv- 
ism, she did not concern herself to instil into 
her sons the doctrines of any special creed. 







TUTOR AKD PUPIL. 



oped by education and matured by love, be- 
come the giant plants of which the man, full- 
grown and reasonable, will have unbounded 
trouble to dislodge the roots. 

' ' To break away from one's education is 
not an easy task; that a clerical training, 
however, is not always irremediable is proved 
by the case of Voltaire." 



Besides a practical knowledge of the noble 
language, and the attainment of its genuine 
guttural accent, both the boys, but particu- 
larly Victor, had acquired in Spain something 
of the Castilian bearing, a certain gravity of 
deportment, a stability of mind, and a tirm- 
uess of sentiment that boded well for future 
greatness. The sun of the Sierra had bronzed 



42 



VICT on HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



their characters and gilded their imagina- 
tion. 

Not content with tending the mental and 
moral education of her children, Madame 
Hugo took much pains to develop their mus- 
cular powers, insisting upon their doing a 
certain amount of gardening work in spite of 
its being by no means to their taste. But, 
while they were thus rejoicing in their com- 
parative freedom from restraint, they were 
alarmed at the prospect of being again im- 
mured within the restraint of a college. This 



At dingy desks they toil by day ; at, iiiglit 
To gloomy chambers go uncheered by light, 
Where pillars rudely graved by rnety nail 
Of ennui'd hours reveal the weary tale: 
Where spiteful ushers griu, all pleased to make 
The scribbled lines the price of each mistake. 
By four unpitying walls environed there, 
The homesick students pace the pavement bare." 

On the other hand, the sweetness of the 
flowers, the chestnuts, and the breezes, all 
seemed to plead with the mother, and to 
whisper in her ears the entreaty "Leave us 
the children," so that she finally decided on 




attempt upon their liberty was made by the 
representations of the head - master of the 
Lycee Napoleon, whom twenty - six years 
later the poet stigmatized in " Les Rayons et 
les Ombres " as the "terrible man bald and 
black," who held it necessary to shut up 
young people in order to make them work. 
He seamed inclined to believe that it was 

" Good for the young to leave maternal care. 
And f!)r a while a haisber yoke to bear ; 
Surrender all the careless ease of home. 
And be forbid from school-yard b<innds to roam ; 
For this with blandest smiles he softly asks 
That they with him will prosecute their tasks ; 
Receives them in his solemu aSminau'e, 
The rigid lot of discipline to share. 



keeping her sons at home. But she never 
allowed them to be idle; she had them taught 
to use their hands, and they learned to do 
some carpentering and to paper their own 
rooms. Literature is a pursuit that does not 
always enrich her followers, and many of her 
devotees must have been doomed to die of 
hunger unless, upon emergency, they had 
been able to maintain themselves by manual 
labor. 

Except to gardening, Victor had no dislike 
to work, but seemed ever ready to put his 
hands to anything. His recreations, to say 
the truth, were very few; his mother saw no 
one, and probably would not have cared for 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



43 



t'ompanionship. Occasionally a little girl 
of thirteen or fourteen came to play in the 
garden, and on those days the boy's heart 
beat more rapidly than was its wont, for then 
commenced his earnest, tender, deep regard 
for the lady who afterwards became his wife. 
The story of this most pure and exquisite 
love has been related by Victor Hugo him- 
self in the most thrilling of all bis works, 
"Le Dernier Jour d'un Condamne," He 
imagines himself in that book to be a child 
again. In depicting the agonies of a man 
awaiting the guillotine, he has probably con- 
ceived what would have been his own best 
happiness and worse regrets if brought, as he 
might have been, to a similar fate, since as 
■ late as the j'ear 1848 politics have brought 
men to the scaffold as easily as crimes. He 
makes a retrospect of the joys of life, and 
fancies himself once more a schoolboy; he 
recalls the appearance in the solitary garden 
of the little Andalusian girl, Pepita; he sees 
her in all her charms, just fourteen 3'ears of 
age, with large lustrous eyes and luxuriant 
hair, with rich gold-brown skin and crimson 



lips ; he dwells on the proud emotion which 
he felt as she lean?d upon his arm; he re- 
counts how they wandered, talking softly, 
along the shady walks; he tells how he 
picked up the handkerchief she had dropped, 
and was conscious of her hands trembling as 
they touched his own ; and he recollects how 
they talked about the birds, the stars, and the 
golden sunset; sometimes, too, about her 
schoolfellows, her dresses, and her ribbons; 
they blushed together over the most innocent 
of thoughts. 

It was a time he never forgot. 

The home in the Feuillantines holds a 
large place in his affections, and, with a mel- 
ancholy not unnatural, he has poured forth 
a plaintive lay over the old garden that be- 
came the scene of others' sports and the shel- 
ter of others' loves. 

No inconsiderable part of his youth was 
spent with his mother and his tutor beneath 
those shady trees where he played with his 
young fiancee. She was the original of the 
Pepita so tenderly described. Her real name 
was Adile Foucher. 




44 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIi> TIME. 



CHAPTER V. 

The Rne du Cherche-Midi.— The Retreat from Spain.— General Hugo's Part therein,— Defence of Thiouville. 
— Tlie Inviision.- Return of the Bourbons.— A King i]istead of au Emperor.— Free Studies.- Madame 

Hugo a Royalist Domestic Differences.— Tiie Pension Cordier. — Schoolboy Tyrants.— L6ou Gataycs 

and the King of the " Dugs."— A Romantic Mathematiciau.— Poetical Essays.— Theatrical Performances,— 
Juvenile Effusions. 



The second period of residence in the 
Feuillantines was unfortunately destined to 
be only of short duration. The latter por- 
tion of the time was very merr}'. Madame 
Hugo had offered hospitality to the wife of 
General Lucotte, whom she had known iu 
Spain, and who, like herself, had been obliged 
to come away with her children. The 
younger members of the two families be- 
came inseparable companions, and the last 
games played in the old garden were far 
from being the least boisterous and gay. 

But the improvement of Paris now re- 
quired the house of the Feuillantines in or- 
der to lengthen the Rue d'Ulm; and on the 
31st of December, 1813, Madame Hugo, with 
her party, moved to the Rue du Cherche- 
Midi, almost opposite the hotel of the War 
Oflace, the residence of M. Foucher. The 
new home was an old structure of the Louis 
XV. style. According to her wont, Madame 
Hugo took up her quarters in rooms on the 
ground-floor overlooking the garden, which 
was much smaller and far less beautiful than 
what they had quitted. The boys were 
obliged to sleep on the second story. 

Joyous games soon began again. The 
young folks were joined by Victor Foucher 
and other companions until the Rue du 
Cherchc - Midi became the scene of noisy 
romps such as are the very terror of moth- 
ers. The lads clambered on to the roof, 
they played at soldiers, piling up boxes and 
trunks of all dimensions into barricades, 
which were assaulted and taken only after 
a vigorous interchange of blows. 

The frolicsome band was further reinforced 
by the arrival of the eldest of the Hugo boys. 
The general did not remain in Spain long 
after his wife's departure, and Abel, after 
serving as his father's aide-de-camp in the 
battles of Salamanca and Vittoria, in the last 
victory and final defeat, now found himself 
a lieutenant at fifteen, by force of circum- 
stances unattached. 



He had been sharing in the terrible contest 
in which France could not claim justice on 
her side. In order to resist a conqueror 
flushed with victory and inflated with pride 
— a conqueror who shed the blood of his sub- 
jects for the mere purpose of subjugating the 
powers of Europe and augmenting his own 
renown — who held the doctrine that right 
may ever be oppressed by might — Spain 
made those splendid and heroic efforts by 
which she maintained her independence. The 
women and children took up arms. From 
every bush projected the muzzle of a gun, 
charged with the death of an invader; every 
pass concealed an ambush, every height was 
defended by a patriot. 

It was a fine example, and one that has sel- 
dom been matched for the self-devotion of 
the victims ; yet, magnificent as was their de- 
fence, it did not deteriorate from the bravery 
of the soldiers of the first Empire, who had 
no choice but to obey their master's bidding. 

To General Hugo it fell to conduct the ter- 
rible retreat. The soldiers under his com- 
mand had to protect the lives of twenty thou- 
sand of the French fugitives who were huriy- 
ing with their property from Madrid — a 
terror-stricken multitude whom the enemy 
would not hesitate to massacre if only they 
could get the chance, and whose ranks mean- 
while were being decimated by poison and 
dysentery. 

The general, ever on the alert, performed 
his duty nobl}'. As soon as he had assured 
himself that the unfortunates committed to 
his protection were in a position of safety, 
he took his son to Paris, and very shortly 
afterwards received orders to take the com- 
mand at Thionville, which was on the point 
of being besieged. 

He made a gallant defence of the fortress, 
which was one of the last over which the 
tricolor floated. The citadel surrendered, 
not to the enemy, but to the Bourbons — that 
is, to the allies — and the French general, as 



VICTOR UUaO AND HIS TIME. 



the reward of defending himself against tlie 
Hessians, found liiraself accused of treason 
against tliose who then, as now, styled them- 
selves the legitimate sovereigns of France. 

Throughout these critical struggles the chil- 
dren continued at their daily work and at 
their daily play. Their mother was anxious 
for them to learn as much as possible, and 
had subscribed for Victor to a reading-room. 
There he greedily devoured everything that 
came in his way — romances, books of science, 
and even " Les Contemporaines " of Retif de 
la Bretonne. 

Then came the invasion reinstating the 
monarchs "by right divine. " Even children 
became infected with the fever of politics, 
and the youngsters of the Rue du Oherche- 
Midi were fain to put aside their picture- 
books and to consult their atlases. His de- 
sire to make himself acquainted with the 
movements of the allied forces had the effect 
of making Victor, who had all General Lu- 
cotte's elaborate collection of plans at his 
disposal, learn his geography very thorough- 
ly and by a very practical method. 

To Madame Hugo the fall of the Empire 
was a satisfaction to which she did not hesi- 
tate to give expression. Although it was an 
assent that seriously affected her husband's 
fortunes, as a Vendean she was so loyally 
devoted to her prince that all other interests 
were held to be secondarj'. 

While with a terrible crash was falling the 
throne of the man who had squandered the 
blood of France on a thousand battle-fields, 
but who as the result of all his exploits had 
left the gates of Paris open to the armies of 
the foreigner, Victor Hugo was wearing lilies 
in his button-hole. His mother approved of 
this; consequently he was sure he was right, 
although he had no little difficulty in looking 
with a friendly eye upon the Cossacks who 
encamped with their horses in the court-yard 
of the C'herche-Midi. 

In the view of a lad of twelve, it seemed 
at first as if France must have sustained a 
humiliation in coming down from an emper- 
or to a king. He had always felt a certain 
amount of admiration for tlie great Bona- 
parte; but his mother's training, combined 
with that of the priest, had prepared him to 
love royalty, and accordingly he was ready 
now to love it with all his heart. Subse- 
quently it would be his father who, as a vet- 
eran, in his turn would influence his mind. 

After attending the festivities in honor of 
the restoration, Madame Hugo went to Thi- 



onville. She did not, however, remain there, 
long. The proud spirits of husband and 
wife allowed neither of them to compromise 
their political principles, and the recent 
events aggravated then- differences of opin- 
ion to such a degree that at length they 
caused a separation between them. But on 
these domestic discords it is not our place to 
dwell. 

Napoleon returned from Elba. During the 
period of the Hundred Days, General Hugo, 
who recovered his position, insisted upon 
placing bis two sons at a boarding - school, 
a proceeding on his part which by no means 
mitigated the hostility with which they re- 
garded the imperial government. Victor was, 
deprived of his great delight — the evenings 
spent in her father's salon with Adele Fou- 
cher, the object of his secret love. Moreover, 
for the very day when he was again to be- 
come an imprisoned schoolboy he had 
schemed that his marionnettes should per- 
form a piece of his own composing, "Le 
Palais Enchante." It was consequently with 
the greatest dithculty that he restrained his 
tears when, in company with Engine, he 
crossed the threshold of the college Cordier 
et Decotte in the Rue Ste. Marguerite. 

The young, however, soon forget their 
troubles, and the school-days seem to have 
been happy enough. 

Eugene was now nearlj' fifteen, and Victor 
thirteen. It was not long before the two boys 
were elevated into two "kings" at the pen- 
sion Decotte, their schoolfellows being di- 
vided into two detachments — those under Eu- 
gene styhng themselves the "calves," those 
under Victor being called the "dogs." The 
result of this division was some furious fight- 
ing; but, whether they were at peace or at 
war, no one ever for a moment thought of 
disputing the authority of the leaders. 

Victor Hugo still remembers with much 
anmsement that he was a terrible despot. He 
never allowed the smallest act of disobedi- 
ence, and went so far as to inflict personal 
chastisement upon any one who failed to 
execute his orders. 

Among the most devoted of his subjects 
was Leon Gatayes, the celebrated harpist, 
who died in Paris in 1877. Besides being a 
musician, he was a man of taste and of con- 
siderable attainments, a journalist and a critic, 
and of untainted loyalty. At the time of 
which we are speaking he was a day boarder, 
and King Victor was in the habit of intrust- 
ing him with various commissions out of 



48 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



doors, every day confiding to him the sum 
of two sous to be spent upon Italian cheese, 
of which one half was to be dry and the 
other half moist. When it arrived, the mon- 
arch would survey the dainty morsel with a 
critical eye; if it were "all moist," a hail- 
storm of thumps would descend upon the 
unlucky shoulders of the blundering emis- 
sary ; if it were ' ' all dry, ' ' a perfect avalanche 
of kicks would assail his shins. 

Fifty years afterwards the artist inquired 
of the poet : 

" Do you remember those days? My legs 
are sore still!" 

" But you were a head taller than I was," 
the poet repUed ; "why did you not pitch 
into me?" 

"Oh, I dared not," answered the other; 
"you told me I should not have any more of 
your commissions to execute, and the mere 
threat took away all thought of revenge." 

In spite of his tyranny, the king of the 
' ' dogs " was altogether a favorite, and certain- 
ly set his subjects a tine example of industry, 

General Hugo intended that his boys should 
ultimately go to the Ecole Polytechnique. In 
addition to their ordinary lessons, they at- 
tended courses of lectures in physics, phi- 
losophy, and mathematics at the college 
Louis-le-Qrand. Their talent for mathematics 
brought them under the notice of the mas- 
ters, and they both obtained honorable men- 
tion at the general examination by the pro- 
fessors of the university. 

Victor had a way of solving problems that 
was peculiar to himself. He would not fol- 
low in the beaten tracks, and would not be 
content to obtain his results by the ordinary 
methods, always arriving at the conclusion 
by some indirect and unrecognized mems; 
as it were, inventing his solution rather than 
deducing it. It would be fair to dtbcribe 
him as " a romantic mathematician," and the 
licenses he took were often far from pleas- 
ing to the professors, who could not look 
with favor upon any deviations from the old 
routine. But it was not in the mysteries of 
any algebraic symbols that the lad found his 
chief delight ; poetry rather than mathematics 
occupied his thoughts, and at the age of 
thirteen he wrote his first verses about Ro- 
land and the age of chivalry. Not having 
learned his prosody, he invented his laws of 
rhythm for himself. 

All the world at that time was trying to 
write poetry. Even Larivifere tried his hand 
at verse; Deootte the schoolmaster, Eugene, 



and twenty of his schoolfellows, as well as 
Vfctor, became worshippers of the muse. 

But the young students did not limit them- 
selves to odes and fugitive pieces ; they com- 
posed grand military dramas which were per- 
formed in the great class-room. The tables 
were all pushed together to form a stage, and 
underneath these the actors dressed, crouch- 
ing down in their novel greenroom until 
summoned to perform their parts. 

The schoolboy king took JVIcilifire for his 
model, and wrote plays of which he had to 
take the principal character himself. For 
these performances the most elaborate cos- 
tumes were held to be indispensable, and 
Victor Hugo,who wears no decorations now, 
would make his appearance covered with 
them in all varieties. Grand crosses of every 
hue, manufactured of paper; grand orders, 
and collars composed of strings of marbles ; 
grand plumes, grand accoutrements, com- 
pleted the attire of monarchs, commanders- 
in-chief, and other conspicuous characters. 
Never, surely, before or since, did genius de- 
vise costumes comparable to these! 

Not satisfied with devoting his play-hours 
to these dramatic pursuits, the young author 
would spend a portion of his nights in trans- 
lating into French verse the odes of Horace 
and various fragments of Virgil that he had 
learned. At a later page we will give ex- 
amples of the early lispings of one who may 
fairly claim to be reckoned in the register of 
the precocious. 

Already a change was coming over him; 
his hair, which hitherto had been fair, like 
that of a true son of the north, was assuming 
a darker shade; his features were getting 
more marked, and his eyes were gaining an 
expression of thought. The poet was awa- 
kening within him. 

A moment may be spared to take a cursory 
glance at some of his earliest lyrical essays, 
which, owing to an accident, he had the op- 
portunity of multiplying at will. 

In the course of one of the battles that oc- 
curred between the ' ' calves " and the ' ' dogs " 
during a walk near the pond at Auteuil, Vic- 
tor was so seriously injured in the knee that 
it was feared at first that his leg would have 
to be amputated. He refused to betray the 
name of the ' ' soldier " who in the heat of the 
fray had taken a stone and made a sling of 
his pocket-handkerchief, thus inflicting so se- 
rious an injury upon the hostile "general." 

The respite from mathematics that the 
lamed boy gained through his accident was 




THEATRICAL PERFORMANCE AT TEE PENSION DECOTTE. 



48 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



most welcome to him, and the hours of his 
freedom were pleasantly occupied in compos- 
ing odes, satires, epistles, and poems in what- 
ever style might chime in with his fancy, 
amorous, chivalrous, languishing, or terrible. 
In after-years Madame Victor Hugo came 
across ten old exercise-books full of verses 
dated 1815 and 1816. These tirst efforts of 
art are very curious. On the fly-leaf of the 
last, which contains many scraps of interest, 
is inscribed, in the lad's own handwriting, 
' ' The nonsense that I wrote before I was 
born ;" and below this the rough drawing of 
an egg, inside which is sketched a bird, as is 
explained by the word "oiseau" underneath. 




"THE NONSENSE THAT I WKOTE BEPOBE I 
WAS BOEN." 

The apprentice poet would appear not to 
have been always satisfied with his produc- 
tions. To one of the pieces is appended 
the note "An honest man may read all of 
this which is not cancelled," the pen having 
been drawn through the whole composition. 
A few pages further on is a piece without a 
title, and at the bottom the remark ' ' Let him 
who can, find a title; I have yet to discover 
what I have been writing about," 

Notwithstanding his modes t}^, his genius 
was not invariably at fault. In some notes 
that have all the tokens of being conscien- 
tious he asserts that although he is aware 
that some of his verses are bad, some miser- 
ably weak, and some only barely passable, 
yet he believes that he has written some that 
are really good. 

And it is to be observed how he does not 
by any means limit himself to petty subjects; 



his imagination will not content itself with 
trifles. After the second restoration he wrote 
a tragedy upon the return of Louis XVIII. , 
entitled "Irtamene," with Egyptian names 
to the characters. His perusal of Voltaire's 
plays had given him a predilection for this 
particular style, A few months later he was 
writing a second tragedy, which he called 
" Athelie, ou les Scandinaves ;" but his taste 
had so much developed that he desisted at the 
end of the third act and never completed it. 

But tragedies alone did not suffice ; he com- 
posed elegies, idyls, fables, romances, conun- 
drums, madrigals, and even puns in verse. 
He sang of bards and fair Canadians; he 
translated Ausonius, and perpetrated a comic 
opera! 

Several of his translations have been re- 
produced, and specimens of them may be 
found in "Victor Hugo Raconte," and in 
"Litterature et Philosophic Melees." 

A few lines of an unpublished translation of 
a passage in the ' ' JEneid " may be here intro- 
duced. It will serve as a sample of the trans- 
lator's power. It is the description of Cacus • 

" Vois sur ce moiit desert ces rochers eutasso.s. 
Vols ces blocs snspendus, ces debris disperst'S ; 
Lti, dans un untie immense an jonr inaccessible, 
Vivait I'affrenx Cacus, noir geant, monstre horrible, 
A ses portes pendaient des cranes eiitr'ouverts. 
Pales, sonilles de sang et de fange converts. 
Ses menrtres thaque jonr faisaient fnnier la terre, 
De ce monstre hideux Vtilcain etait le p6re ; 
Sa gorge vomissnit des tourbillone de fenx 
Et son euorme masse ^pouvantait iios ,veux," 

ViKG. .■En. viii, 190-200, 

It is quite open to question whether this 
terrible Cacus is at all comparable as a ro- 
mantic type to Han d'Islande; but in those 
days Victor Hugo thought of nothing beyond 
the classics, and in his original early pieces 
the undercurrent of sentiment that tinges 
them all is his love of the Bourbons. He 
was but fourteen years old, and he believed 
in them with all sincerity. 

To a certain extent, all these youthful pro- 
ductions are the echoes of his mother's teach- 
ing and the outcome of a veneration for her, 
who, like a muse, though she might not actu- 
ally dictate his rhymes, yet inspired all his 
ideas. 

The child had neither the right nor the 
power to argue with his mother; he yielded 
to her with all reverence, not supposing that 
she could teach him other than the truth. He 
did not reason, he conformed; his mind was 
but the reflex of the mind of the counsellors 
who had instructed him. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



49 



CHAPTER VI. 

A Pamphleteer nt Thirteen.— "First Connection with the Academic Franfnise. — "L'enfant euljlime." — Chii- 
teaubriaud or Soumet the Author of the Mot. — A Romance Written in a Fortnigtit. — " liug-Jargal." — 
Studies for Future Worlcs. — Revision and Publicatiou.— Suljject of Play Performed 1S80. 



Thus regarding the world only througli 
the medium of his mother's vision, and re- 
ceiving his inspiration solely from her, Vic- 
tor Hugo was incapable of breaking through 
the bounds of the circle that enclosed him. 
His passions were simply those of his in- 
structors; but, like a sonorous echo, lie in- 
tensified what he repeated. A drum touched 
even by an infant's hand among the moun- 
tains will reverberate like the roll of thun- 
der. 

It had been told him, and with justice, that 
Napoleon Bonaparte was a tyrant usurjier; 
instantl}^ he avowed his hatred of the despot, 
and within a few days after the battle of 
Waterloo, though he was but thirteen j'ears 
old, he came out as a pamphleteer, issuing a 
cry of indignation against the now-defeated 
emperor, the general tone of which may be 
judged from the following version of its 
opening lines: 

" Tremble, thou despot ! the avenging hand of fate 

Down to its doom thine odious empire shakes ; 
Thy bitter day of dark remorse hath dawned— 

Remorse, that cruel tyrant sure o'ertakes. 
Tremble 1 for though thy lustful, cursed pride 

Covets to conquer, burns to vanquish all, 
Yet thy delirium hath outrun itself. 

And all thy schemes of selfish glory fall. 
But now, alas ! thy very fall for France 

Still costs her blood, still makes her tears to flow ; 
For, Waterloo, the victory on thy field 

Is but a mingled cup of joy and woe." 

His political opinions, as we have said, 
were only a reflex of others, sure to be modi- 
fied as he grew older; but at that time, owing 
to his education, they might be summed up 
in that line of wonderful logic : 

" Who hates a tyrant, he must love a king." 

Such, at least, was Madame Hugo's con- 
viction; she firmly believed that the Bour- 
bons, whom the invasion had brought back, 
would restore to France her liberty by re- 
lieving the land of imperial oppression. She 
was, moreover, an enthusiastic admirer of 
Voltaire ; and her son, through sympathy with 
4 



her, reverenced Louis XVIII., resxjceted the 
charter,and satirized the worthy monks, who, 
under the pretext of 8a\ang men from eter- 
nal flames, consigned them to perdition for 
eating meat on forbidden days. It was a con- 
tradiction of things which did not cease to 
haunt Victor Hugo's mind ; and we shall 
soon see how, ceasing to be a Catholic, he 
became a freethinker, always, however, not- 
withstanding that the ecclesiastical authori- 
ties denounced him as an atheist, remaining 
a sincere deist. His philosophical work, late- 
ly published, comprises the impressions of 
his boj'hood. He believes in God in spite of 
the priests, and in liberty in spite of every- 
thing ! 

But though his professions of faith were 
under the control of those with whom he as- 
sociated, his poetical talent took an indepen- 
dent flight that was solely and entirely his 
own. Without communicating his intention 
to anj' one, he made up his mind to compete 
for the poetical prize that was annually of- 
fered by the Academic Franc^aise. It was 
not without considerable timidity that the 
j'oung student of the college Decotte handed 
in his composition at the secretary's office. 
For the year 1817, when the Restoration was 
complete, the subject proposed was ' ' The ad- 
vantages of study in every situation of life." 

The literaiy class might beguile themselves 
into the belief that "advantages of study" 
were an excuse for the Restoration; it was 
well that the mass of the people did not share 
their persuasion. 

According to the established custom, the 
j'oung competitor had to write his name in- 
side a paper, folded and sealed, and bearing 
a motto corresponding with what was sub- 
scribed to the poem. The verses were re- 
markable for more than the title. The com- 
mencing strain was somewhat to this eSect : 

"When the fresh dewdrops earliest rest 
Laving the tender lily's trembling breast — 
When the glad song-birds chant their morniug lay, 
And to the orient sun their tribute pay, 



50 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Ye peaceful shades, where boughs o'erhanging meet 

I seek, I happy seek your calm retreat. 

Tes, then I love my Virgil's page to take, 

And feel my heart for Dido's sorrow ache ; 

E'en then, inebriate with studious joys, 

My soul the peaceful solitude employs 

To learn the lesson useful to the end, 

How with life's anxious evils to contend." 

Unfortunately, In tlie course of the poem, 
the juvenile author introduced the couplet 

"And though the thronging scenes of life I shun, 
For me three lustrums scarce their course have run." 

It was with a charming simplicity that the 
future philosopher boasted at once that he 
had fled from the cities and haunts of princes 
and of men, and yet acknowledged in ac- 
ademic phrase that he was hardly fifteen 
years old. The avowal raised the suspicion 
of the judges, and the Academicians took the 
lines as an affront to their dignity. Accord- 
ingly, the first prize was divided equally be- 
tween Saintine and Lebrun; the second was 
awarded to Casimir Delavigne ; a " proxime 
accessit" was assigned to Loyson; and an 
"honorable mention" accorded to Victor 
Hugo, in spite of his presumed attempt to 
mystify, although there was little doubt that 
his was the most meritorious of all the com- 
positions that had been sent in. 

Saintine, Lebrun, and Casimir Delavigne 
are all well-known names, and will reappear 
in the course of this record. Loyson is not 
so well remembered, but his clique entered a 
protest against the Academic for having ad- 
judged him only an "accessit." He died 
young, and it has been said of him that he 
held a place between Millevoye and Lamar- 
tine, approaching nearer the latter in the 
spirituality of his ideas. 

Altogether the competition had been of a 
brilliant character; but when the verses were 
read in pubUc, the decision of the judges did 
not avail to prevent Victor Hugo's produc- 
tion from being received with the loudest 
applause. 

The laureate of ' ' three lustrums" first heard 
of his success from his brother, who brought 
him the news while he was playing at pris- 
oner's base with General Lecourbe's son, 
Victor Jacquemont, and some other boys. 
So interested was he in his game that he did 
not allow it to be interrupted by his brother's 
communication. 

In the report that was published there ap- 
peared a paragraph to the effect that if M. 
Hugo were really" only as old as he represent- 
ed, he deserved some encouragement from 



the Academic. This at once aroused Mad- 
ame Hugo's indignation. She sent a cate- 
gorical statement to M, Raynouard, the secre- 
tary, who had drawn up the report, and he 
acknowledged her communication by saying 
that if the author of the poem had really 
spoken the truth, he should be very pleased 
to make his acquaintance. 

More indignant than ever, Madame Hugo 
hurried off to her son at the college. 

' ' Come with me, " she said ; " come and let 
me show you to these unbelievers who assert 
that you are a man. I have the register of 
your birth in my pocket!" 

Together they hastened to the secretary, 
who was manifestly somewhat abashed, and 
could only stammer out the explanation that 
"he could never have supposed it possible." 

Poor M. Raynouard was a poet who had 
been brought forward under the patronage 
of Napoleon I. He was a worthy and a 
learned man. This is about the limit of the 
tribute that can be paid to his memory. By 
the emperor's command he brought out 
several tragedies, of which the fortunate fate 
has been that they are forgotten; certainly 
he was not the man to discern the marks of 
a rising genius. 

Some of his associates were more quick- 
sighted. First, there was Franpois de Neuf- 
chSteau, who had himself been a precocious 
boy, and had received from Voltaire, by way 
of encom-agement for his essays, the lines 

"The womb of time must my successor bear ; 
Yet thee, thee would I choose to be my heir !" * 

Neufchateau became rather a questionable 
poet and a sceptical politician, but still made 
himself a name. Notwithstanding his ad- 
vanced age, he took an interest in all that 
was going on, and addressed the young as- 
pirant in this wise: 

*' Friend of the Muses ! come to my embrace ; 
In thee the tender love of poesy I trace !" t 

At a later date, when the lad Victor had 
gTown into manhood, the worty Neuf cha- 
teau, it must be owned, became somewhat 
startled at his prodigious triumphs, and, after 
reading the "Odes et Ballades, " broke out 
into the exclamation " Unfortunate ! he will 
ruin himself! He is failing to fulfil his early 
promise !" 



* "II faut bien que I'on me succAde, 

Et j'aime en vous mon he'ritier." 
t"Tendre ami des neuf smurs, mes bras vous Bont 
ouverts ; 
Vehez, j'aime toujonrs les vers." 



VICTOR HUGO AND UIS TIME. 



51 



Another member of the Academie, Cam- 
penon, who was Delillc's successor, and a fer- 
vent admirer of Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, 
subsequently notorious for his hatred of ro- 
manticism, likewise made some reference to 
Victor Hugo's poem, and indirectly express- 
ed his admiration of it. 

"O'erdone with wit and surfeited are we ; 

Men's hearts are ice, for whom uo verse cau make 
The seuae of pleasure, though it teem with charms 
That Malfllatre's euvy might awake."" 

But Chateaubriand, the most illustrious of 



cently appeared in a curious publication en- 
titled " L'Intermediaire," and are not un- 
worthy of repetition. 

"Many a time, "writes the author of the 
notice, "have I heard this celebrated ver- 
dict assigned to Chateaubriand. All Victor 
Hugo's biographers, one after another, have 
adored this word ' sublime,' and it matters 
little to the poet who it was that thus, for 
the first time, depicted his youthful glory. 
But, though Chateaubriand has the credit of 
it, the expression was not originally his. 




CHATEAUBRIAND. 



all the Academicians of 1817, went further 
than any other; he exclaimed, "The child is 
sublime!" 

Perpetually quoted as this expression has 
been, it has been questioned whether it really 
ought to be originally attributed to Chateau- 
briand. The details of this debate have re- 



"L'esprit et le bon gout nous out rassasies; 
J'ai rencontr6 des coeurs de glace 
Pour des vers pleius de charme et de verve et de grace 
Que Malfilatre eut envies I" 



" One Sunday, long years ago, I was break- 
fasting with Alexandre Soumet, the author of 
the ' Divine fepopee. ' . . . flmile and Antony 
Deschamps were present. In the course of 
conversation, I referred to the phrase always 
attributed to Chateaubriand. 

" ' Stop,' said Soumet, ' I must not allow 
that observation of yours to go uncorrected. 
It was I who first wrote to ChSteaubriand 
and called his attention to Hugo as I'enfant 
sublime, and I appeal to femile and Antony 
to say whether it was not so. ' 



52 



VICTOR HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



" Both the Deschamps confirmed what he 
said. 

"This conversation was reported in the 
Ahbaye-aux-Bois, the residence of Madame 
R§camier, who repeated it to Chiteauhriand. 

" 'The words express so decided a truth,' 
was the reply of the author of the ' G§nie du 
Christianisme,' 'that any one might natu- 
rally have used them; and if Soumethas the 
advantage of me, he is quite entitled to the 
recognition that he claims.' " 

At least- the discussion demonstrates one 
thing: it proves that whether or no Chateau- 
briand was the first to apply the epithet, at 
any rate, in his own mind, he considered Vic- 
tor entitled to be designated "I'enfant sub- 
lime." He never ceased to regard him with 
affection and admiration, and was among 
the number of those who gave him substan- 
tial proofs of their friendship. 

After Chateaubriand had spoken of him in 
this way in a notice in the Oonservatoire,Yic- 
tor Hugo was taken to him by M. Agier to 
thank him for his favorable criticism, and 
there was established between them a union, 
full of kindness on the one hand and enthusi- 
asm on the other, which was cordially main- 
tained for four or five years. On the mar- 
gin of one of his commonplace-books Victor 
Hugo wrote, "I would be Chateaubriand or 
nothing," so that it may be well understood 
how much he appreciated Uie praise of one 
whom he deemed his master. 

To obtain an "honorable mention "in a 
eoncours of the French Academy was an 
event that was always. published in the news- 
papers; accordingly,','!!!, 1817, Victor Hugo's 
name became to a certain extent known, if 
not renowned. His poem on " The Advan- 
tages of Study " was printed separately, and 
is now a rare bibliographical curiosity. In 
one copy there is a dedication of six verses 
to M. D. L. R. (M. de la Rivifere), signed V. 
M. H. 

This was not the only literary success that 
he made at this period ; before leaving the col- 
lege Decotte he wrote his first essay in prose, 
and composed his romance of " Bug-Jargal." 

He had promised some of his schoolfel- 
/ lows not to take more than a fortnight in the 
,' composition of this romance, so that it might 
' be ready in time for a kind of literary ban- 
quet that they used to hold once a month. 
He kept his word, and had his manuscript 
duly prepared by the appointed day. 

Although this book was remodelled, and in 
great measure rewritten by the author in 



1835, it was, nevertheless, his first work of 
the kind. It relates a dramatic episode of 
the revolt of the negroes of St. Domingo in 
1791. Bug-Jargal, the hero of the story, is 
the slave of one of the colonists of the island 
and bears a secret love for his master's 
daughter, a fascinating chUd, betrothed to 
her cousin Leopold d'Auverney. Having 
once been rescued by this cousin, after being 
condemned to death for an act of rebellion, 
Bug-Jargal, at the outbreak of the insurrec- 
tion in which the whites were being massa- 
cred, first rushes in and saves the life of the 
girl he loves, and next saves the life of her 
cousin, whom he hates. It is solely to his 
exertions that the young couple escape the 
vengeance that had been prepared for them 
by Jean Biassou, the leader of the revolt, and 
by a deformed and hideous wretch called 
Habibrah. At the end, after having thus he- 
roically sacrificed his feelings, Bug-Jargal sac- 
rifices his life, being shot down by the colo- 
nists. 

It seems almost a pity that this work was 
ever retouched. The feature in it that is 
now most worthy of remark is that it con- 
tains the first rough sketches of some of Vic- 
tor Hugo's immortal characters, being, as it 
were, the study for some of his finest pictures. 

Like Ruy Bias, Bug-Jargal is an earth- 
worm enamoured of a star, and, like Hernani, 
he dies for a point of honor. Habibrah, the 
dwarf, is the foreshadow of the hideousness 
of Quasimodo and the spitefulneas of Tri- 
boulet; while the description of the "obi" 
clutching at the root of a tree in his frightful 
fall to the bottom of the Gulf of St. Domin- 
go prefigures the archdeacon Claude ProUo 
clinging to a gutter-pipe when precipitated 
by the bell-ringer from the tower of Notre 
Dame. 

These crude sketches of the master-hand 
are worthy of careful study; they serve in a 
degree to illustrate the gradual development 
of his chefs-d'auvre, and are curious as well 
as interesting. "Bug-Jargal" may be con- 
sidered as an early stage in the literary revo- 
lution of 1830; and this, the first note of the 
romance-writer, in the sixteenth year of his 
age, is a cry in favor of the oppressed, a de- 
fence of the suffering, an exaltation of self- 
devotion, and a plea for liberty. 

This remarkable production did not ap- 
pear in print until 1825, after it had been re- 
vised and corrected, and, consequently, not 
untU after the public mind had been thrilled 
by the terrible character of ' ' Han d'Islande. " 







'A BLACK FLAG WAS HOISTED ON THE MOUNTAIN. 



54 



VI TOR MUQO AND HIS TIME. 



The work, by comparison, seemed tamer 
than it was in reality, and contained some 
remarkable passages that were speedily in- 
serted in collections of extracts from the 
most striking compositions of the day, and 
which, by their vivacity of expression and 
harmony of execution, have become models 
of style. 

One passage selected from Sergeant Tha- 
dee's narrative may be introduced to serve as 
an illustration of the style of the touching 
story: 
( "As you wish it, captain, I must tell you 
that although the great negro Bug-Jargal, or 
Pierrot, as he was most generally called, was 
both bold and gentle, and the bravest man in 
the land — yourself; of course, my dear cap- 
tain, always excepted — I was, nevertheless, 
extremely ill-disposed towards him; so much 
so that, when I heard that the next evening 
but one had been fixed on for your murder, 
I went to him in a furious rage and vowed 
that, if you were killed, either he or (failing 
him) ten of his followers should be shot in 
revenge. He did not exhibit the sUghtest 
emotion at what I said, but an hour after- 
wards he had dug a great hole and was gone. " 

We may break his narrative just to ex- 
plain that Bug-Jargal had made his escape in 
order to avert the intended murder of Cap- 
tain d'Auverney; if he were not back when 
a black flag was hoisted on the mountain, his 
ten associates would forthwith be executed. 

Thadee goes on: 

"When the flag was hoisted, Bug-Jargal 
had not returned. A cannon was flred as a 
signal, and I proceeded to take the ten ne- 
groes to the place of execution, known as 
the Great Devil's Mouth. You may be sure 
enough, captain, that I had not the least in- 
tention of letting the fellows off; I had them 
all bound in the usual way, and was just 
arranging my platoons, when suddenly Bug- 
Jargal emerged from the forest. I lowered 
my gun immediately. He came bounding 
towards me, quite out of breath, and said, 

" 'Good evening, Thadee ; I am just in 
time.' 

"Without another word he at once set 
about liberating his countrymen from their 
fetters." 



The story ends with the execution of the 
hero, who coxild not and would not survive 
his love. J 

In a preface bearing the date of 1833, Vic- 
tor Hugo observes that he was like a traveller 
pausing on his road to look back to his start- 
ing-point among the mists that clouded the 
horizon; and, in re-editing this work, it was 
his wish to publish a reminiscence of the 
boldness with which, at a period when all 
was serene, he had dealt with that weighty 
subject, the revolt of the blacks in St. Do- 
mingo in 1791. It was truly a battle of 
giants; three worlds interested in the issue: 
Europe and Africa the combatants, America 
providing the battle-plain! 

The first edition of "Bug-Jargal" had a 
second title appended, describing it as one 
of the "Contes sous la Tente." These 
stories never appeared, neither did "La 
Quinquengrogne," a romance that was ad- 
vertised for a considerable time in the book- 
sellers' catalogues. 

Long before the issue of the book itself, the 
original story was published in the Gonser- 
Dateur Idtterairc, a magazine to which we 
shall have to refer hereafter. Captain d'Au- 
verney is there called Delmar. The name 
of D'Auverney, subsequently introduced, was 
one which General Hugo was entitled, if he 
had chosen, to assume. 

"Bug-Jargal, "then, was the first work of 
any considerable length that Victor Hugo 
wrote. It was translated into English in 
1836. 

In November, 1880, Richard Lesclide and 
Pierre Elz§ar brought out a drama, at the 
Theatre .ChSteau-d'Eau, founded on the ro- 
mance, which proved very successful. It 
had the prime merit that the original sub-, 
ject was not over - mutilated in the adapta- 
tion. 

Since revising the proofs, the author has 
not read the book, being in this respect un- 
like the Arab shepherd who, when he had 
risen to be a vizier, used to contemplate his 
coarse vest and his reed pipe. 

Nevertheless, this early essay is one that 
Victor Hugo might fairly reperuse with 
pride ; it contains the germs of his mighty 
genius. 



nor OB HUGO and his time. 



53 



CHAPTER VII. 

The Jenx Floraux at Tonlonse.— " Les Vierges de Verdnn."— Filial Affection.— Letter from M. Soiimet ■ 

Belnctauce to Go to the fioole Polytechnique. — Allowance Withdrawn. — Numerous Changes of Eesi- 
dence. — Publication of Odes. — Le Conservateur Littdraire. — Description of the Magazine. — Victor Hugo a 
Critic— His Articles and Norm de P!K»n«.— Opinion of Lamartine's first "Meditations Po^tiquee."- First 
Interview of the Two Poets. 



At the time when the schoolboy of six- 
teen was writing "Bug-Jargal," he was not 
only a laureate of the Academie, hut became 
also a prize-winner in the Jeux Floraux — 
celebrated games that had been established 
in Toulouse in the fourteenth century, and 
which have been reorganized under the pat- 
ronage of Clemence Isaure. The subject of 
the poem for which he obtained the wreath 
was historical, being founded on the story of 
the "Vierges de Verdun," three young sis- 
ters — Henriette, H§l&ne, and Agathe Watrin 
— who were condemned to death by Fou- 
quier-Tinville, because they had presented 
flowers to the Prussians on their entry into 
the town, and distributed money and other 
relief among the emigrants. 

A short time afterwards Victor Hugo won 
the golden lily for another of his composi- 
tions, a poem on the subject of the erection 
of Henry IV. 's statue on the Pont Neuf, a 
ceremony of which the young writer had 
himself been a spectator. 

In these competitions at Toulouse, Vic- 
tor's brother Abel, who likewise showed con- 
siderable literary talent, gained several hon- 
ors. 

The ode on the statue of Henry IV. was 
composed in a single night, and under cir- 
cumstances that make it a touching tribute 
of filial affection. Madame Hugo was suf- 
fering from inflammation of the chest, and 
her two younger sons were taking their 
turn to sit up with her at night. On the 
.5lh of February, 1819, it was Victor's turn 
to remain in the invalid's room. In the 
course of the evening, his mother, ever keen- 
ly interested in his performances, and a flrm 
believer in his future name, and knowing 
Ihat the following day, according to the 
rules of the competition, was the latest on 
which contributions could be received, al- 
luded to his composition, supposing it to 
iave been duly sent off. Victor was obliged 



to confess that the ode had not been written, 
and pleaded that he had had too many oc- 
cupations to be able to attend to it. His 
mother rebuked him gently; but the youth 
could see plainly enough that she laid her- 
self down with a feeling of sore disappoint- 
ment weighing on her heart. 

No sooner was she asleep than Victor set 
to work; he wrote diligently all through the 
night, and when she awoke at daybreak he 
had the completed ode to lay before her as a 
morning greeting. The manuscript that was 
sent forthwith to Toulouse went after being 
flrst bedewed with a mother's tears. 

At the next competition at the Academie 
in Toulouse a fresh poem that Victor Hugo 
sent in, upon the subject of Moses on the 
NUe, gained for him the degree of " maltre- 
6s-jeux-floraux,"and the director wrote tiim 
the following letter: 

"Sib, — Since we have received your odes 
we have spoken much of your talents and of 
your extraordinary literary promise. Your 
age of seventeen is a matter of surprise to 
us all, to some almost a matter of increduli- 
ty. You are an enigma of which the Muses 
keep the key. ..." 

All this time Victor's general studies had 
been progressing, and were now so far ad- 
vanced that he was quite capable of entering 
the ficole Polytechnique. In his own mind, 
however, he was convinced that a military 
hfe was not in the least his vocation, and 
both he and his brother begged not to be 
obhged to present themselves at the exami- 
nation. Only with extreme reluctance did 
General Hugo acquiesce in their desire. Sol- 
diers do not often believe in their sons' 
dreams of literary glory, and doubtless they 
are frequently right. But, flnding his own 
wishes thwarted by so strong an opposition, 
he resigned himself to circumstances; he 



56 



VICTOR HUGO AND 318 TIME. 



exhibited, however, the annoyance that he 
felt by withdrawing the moderate allowance 
he had hitherto made his younger sons, and 
leaving them to their own resources. 

As the result of this, Victor left the pen- 
sion, having kept all the school-terms, and 
went to live with his mother, who, since the 
change in the position of her husband — now 
reduced to half -pay — had been obliged to 
leave her apartments in the Cherche-Midi 
and to find a less expensive place of abode. 

She first removed to the Rue des Veilles- 
Tuileries, and resided on the ground-floor of 
a house of which Madame Lacotte occupied 
the first floor. Thence she moved again to 
the Rue des Vieux-Augustins, into a house 
now long since pulled down, but formerly 
part of the Musee des Petits-Augustins. It 
had originally been a convent; its site at 
present is occupied by the court-yard of the 
Palais des Beaux Arts. 

Here it was that Madame Hugo was so se- 
riously iU; and, as her bedroom was on the 
third floor, she attributed the slowness of her 
recovery to the difficulty of getting open-air 
exercis,e, and to obviate this she made an- 
other move in the beginning of 1831 to 10 
Rue de Mezi6res. Here there was a gar- 
den. 

As already remarked, the prevailing work 
of demolition seems never to have had any 
regard for the various residences of the youth- 
ful poet. Only a portion of the house in the 
Rue de M§zi6res is now in existence. 

Victor Hugo was now beginning to make 
himself a name. For two years previously 
he had been applying himself zealously to 
work, and, as Rabbe remarks in his biogra- 
phy, 1819 and 1820 were among the busiest 
and most decisive years in his Ufe. 

Then it was with his own will that he 
entered into the lists with Fortune ; and 
though in the daily labors of his young life 
he dreamed of glory, he knew that it could 
be won only by arduous and incessant toil. 

At various short intervals he composed the 
odes, loyal and religious, that were collected 
into his first published volume of poetry. 

"With regard to his principles, it has been 
said: 

" It is known how he acquired his royaUst 
partialities. His religion found its way into 
his heart through his imagination, and there 
he saw pre-eminently the highest form of 
human thought and the foremost line of po- 
etical perspective. The society into which 
he was thrown, and which received him with 



unbounded adulation, kept up unbroken his^ 
illusions about his creed; but all along the 
basis of his political doctrine was personal 
independence, and, although partially oblit- 
erated by Catholic symbols, the positive phi- 
losophy of his early training flowed on per- 
sistently beneath." 

Among other occupations at this period, 
he was contributing to a periodical called 
the OonservaUur Litteraire, to which refer- 
ence has been already made. The magazine 
is hardly to be found now, but we have our- 
selves perused it in the " BibliothSque Na- 
tionale." It consists of three volumes, and 
was published by Boucher in 1820 and 1831. 

Originally it was started by the three young- 
Hugos, Victor being then eighteen. EugSne 
contributed numerous essays, and Abel sup- 
plied the third volume with several articles. 
The rest of the contributors were Ader, The- 
odore Pavie, J. Sainte-Marie, Jules de Saint- 
F61ix, Madame Tastu, Alfred de Vigny, :&mile 
Deschamps, Alexandre Soumet, with a few 
others; but the bulk of the work belonged to 
the three brothers, Victor's share amounting; 
to at least a third of the whole. 

From these articles of his in the'Cb»»er»a- 
teur, Victor made a selection in 1834, abbre- 
viating and revising them, and under the 
title of a "Journal des Idees, des Opinions, et 
des Lectures d'un Jeune Jacobite," composed 
the first part of his "Litterature et Philoso- 
phie Mglees ;" but, as the author of the ' ' Bibli- 
ographic Romantique," Ch. Aselineau, has re- 
marked, it is in the magazine as originally- 
issued that we must seek the polemical, sa- 
tirical, and Jacobite poet in all the freshness 
and vivacity of his opinions and genius. 

The opening pages of each number were 
reserved for poetry,, and at the commencer 
ment of the first part appears a satire signed 
V. M. Hugo, and entitled "L'Enrdleur Poli- 
tique. " Prefixed to it as a motto is the Script- 
ure verse,) "The light shineth in darkness, 
and the darkness comprehended it not. " The 
poem is a dialogue between an art-student 
and a recruiting-sergeant. The adept, whq^ 
regards the study of literature as paramount 
to everything, exclaims, 

" A fool I'd be, yonv colors would forsake, 
My rhymes \^ peace at my own choice to make 1 
In lonely den I'd rather be a bear, 
Thinking with Pascal, laughing with Voltaire !" 

At the end of the piece, with a maturity of 
expression which is quite surprising, the 
young author pours forth his wonted echo 
of his mother's teaching. He makes a pro- 




VICTOK HUGO AT lUS MOTHER S BEDSIDE. 



58 



VIGTOB HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



fession of his royalist faith, enunciating a 
creed which would not permanently com- 
mand his assent. 

In the very first number the Oonservateur 
betrays unmistakable indication of its satiri- 
■ cal tendency. It announces the sale of a stock 
of literature, the property of a well-known 
man of letters, comprising, among other rari- 
ties, a collection of documents relating to a 
variety of departments of human knowledge 
— the documents being extracts from the best 
authors copied out on small squares of pa- 
per, duly arranged according to their sub- 
jects, and carefully spitted on iron flies. Then 
follows the catalogue : 

Aflleofbiids; 

A file of fish, including the great sea-serpent ; 
A file of roses; 
A file of English costumes ; 

A file of famous dogs, Maiiito and the great New- 
foundland lately added ; 
A file of conjugal fidelity, ever since Lncretia ; 
A file of disiuterestednesB (this file runs short) ; 
A file of deeds of valor ; 
A file of ancient cookery, etc. 

The editor adds that any man of the least 
intelligence might, by merely copying the 
documents verbatim, concoct an educational 
or any other work that was demanded of 
him; and the notice winds up by saying that 
the disposer of the property has employed no 
other means in the composition of his own 
books. 

It will be obvious from the foregoing ex- 
ample that the Conservateur lAtteraire was 
not deficient in humor. The facetious notice 
was preceded by Victor Hugo's first prose ar- 
ticle — a ciurious review of the complete works 
of Andre Chenier. It is signed with the ini- 
tial "E. ;" others are signed "H. ;" and two 
humorous letters upon "L'Art Politique" — 
a poem by Berchoux — ^bore the fanciful sig- 
nature "Publicola Petisot." Subsequently 
the young writer subscribed his name in f uU, 
aid gives his reasons for doing so in a letter 
addressed to his fellow-contributors on the 
subject of the ' ' Biographic Nouvelle des Con- 
temporains," saying that, as he found him- 
self compelled to make some vehement at- 
tacks, he felt it right to take the responsibil- 
ity, and to bear the consequences of his own 
opinions. 

Previously to this, however, twenty-one ar- 
ticles of various kinds had appeared, signed 
simply with the letter "V." Some of these 
were in prose and some in verse, and the 
greater number of them have never been re- 
produced. The composition of the verses is 



for the most part classical, sedate, and pure. 
The prose articles, which are reviews of Casi- 
mir Delavigne, Byron, Moore, Ancelot, Gas- 
pard de Pons, Walter Scott, Jacques Delille, 
Chateaubriand, Madame Desbordes Valmore, 
and others, are excellent studies, and exhibit 
the author's deep reading and rich fimd of 
knowledge. Their style is varied, intellect- 
ual, and well balanced. 

The editor of the Conservateur manifestly 
had all the qualifications for being a first- 
rate journalist, and his talent for criticism 
would doubtless have been developed to a 
remarkable degree if his imagination had 
not transported his genius into another di- 
rection. 

From time to time there appeared in the 
magazine various translations from Lucan 
and from VirgU, signed M. d'Auverney. 
Auverney, or Auverne, is a village seven or 
eight miles from Chftteaubriant, in the de- 
partment of the Loire Inf erieure, where Gen- 
eral Hugo had a small property that entitled 
him to the name. Victor took advantage of 
this, and borrowed it for a iiom de plume. 

Among his other works we must not omit 
to mention his dramatic reviews. That the 
future author of "Hernani" should, in 1830, 
have analyzed "L'Homme Poll," a poetical 
comedy in five acts by M. Merville, as well as 
some pieces by Dupin and Carmouche, "Le 
Cadet Eoussel Procida " of the Porte-Saint- 
Martin, and some vaudevilles by M. Pain 
and M. Bouilly — or Pain-Bomlly, as they 
were conjointly called — was a whim, or per- 
haps rather an irony of fate, that demands a 
record. 

But the most curious, as the most remarka- 
ble, of his critiques was that which he wrote 
upon Lamartine's "Premieres Meditations 
Poetiques," which had just been published 
anonymously. 

"On reading such verses," he says, "who 
would not exclaim with La Harpe, 'Dost 
thou not hear a poet's song V I have read 
this book.more than once, and; in spite of the 
carelessness, the neologisms, the repetitions, 
and the obscurity that I notice in various 
parts, I am tempted to say to the author, 
' Courage, young man! you are one of those 
whom Plato would have overwhelmed with 
honor and banished from his republic. You 
must expect to be driven from our land of 
ignorance and anarchy; but in your exile you 
will fail to find the palms, the trumpets, and 
the wreaths of flowers that Plato accorded to 
the poets.'" 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



59 




LAJIAKTINE. 

With an enthusiasm that was thoroughly 
sincere, tlie reviewer expresses his wonder at 
the appearance of such a book; and, recog- 
nizing the embryo glory of an inspired sing- 
er, in spite of his severity as a purist, he com- 
miserates the age, which he fears will only 
scoff at the productions of the noble and un- 
known hand. 

It was not long before he became acquaint- 
ed with Lamartine, who has himself recorded 
their first interview. The account was writ- 
ten when he was advanced in years : 

"Youth is the time for forming friend- 
ships. I love Hugo because I knew and 



loved him at an age when the heart is still 
expanding within the breast. I remember, 
as though it were but yesterday, the day 
when the great Due de Rohan, then a mus- 
keteer, though afterwards a cardinal, came 
to my quarters on the Quai d'Orsay, and 
said, ' Come with me and behold a phenom- 
enon that promises a great man for France. 
Chateaubriand has already named him ' ' L'en- 
fant sublime." You will some day congrat- 
ulate yourself that you have seen the oak 
within the acorn.' 

"Following the duke, I started off, and 
soon found myself on the ground-floor of an 
obscure house at the end of a coui't. 

"There a grave, melancholy mother was 
industriously instructing some boys of vari- 
ous ages — her sons. She showed us into a 
low room, a little way apart, at the farther 
end of which, either reading or writing, sat a 
studious youtli, with a fine, massive head, in- 
telligent and thoughtful. This was Victor 
Hugo, the man whose pen can now charm or 
terrify the world. 

' ' Already he had written odes and elegies ; 
already was the inspiration of a great poet 
foreshadowed in his productions — works of 
which no man with a soul within his breast 
could fail to feel the power." 

Subsequently we shall find that Lamartine 
became less lavish in his praise, but at that 
time his admiration of the young author 
knew no bounds. Our object here is to .show 
that even the first essays- of Victor Hugo at- 
tracted the attention of all lovers of litera- 
ture. We shall hereafter see how his repu- 
tation continued to increase. 




60 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

The Pnmphlets of 1S19.— A Cruel Separation. —Publication of the First Odes Hard Work. — Mother's 

Death.— An Affecting Betrothal.— Offer of Marriage.— Duel with a Life-guardsman Poverty Bravely 

Borne. — A Young Poet's Budget. — PaWication of the "Odes et Ballades." — Their Success The 

Author's Ideas on Odes. — Corrections of Manuscilpt.- Lodging iu the Eue du Dragon Account of 

Eoyal Pension. 



Only a portion of the lyrical pieces dated 
1819 have been reprinted. They are not to 
be found anywhere except in the literary re- 
views of the period, and are of no interest 
beyond what they afford to men of letters. 
Those that were published in pamphlet form 
have become so rare that none but book-fan- 
ciers can procure them. In 1880, Charles 
Monselet discovered a satire on "Le Tele- 
graphe," an octavo pamphlet of twelve pages, 
with prose notes at the end, signed V. M. 
Hugo, and bearing the date 1819. The book- 
seller refused to let him have it for its weight 
in gold ; but Monselet read-it, and pronounced 
that although the first part was written in an 
antiquated style, and might have come from 
the pen of Ancelot, the second part took a 
higher tone, and presented a colored ima- 
gery that shadowed forth the future author 
of the " Odes et Ballades." 

The young poet was now working with 
increasing energy. His greatest pleasure 
was to accompany his mother to M. Fou- 
cher's house, and there spend long evenings 
in unspoken admiration of the maiden to 
whom his whole heart was devoted. It 
was not long before these admiring glances 
were noticed by the parents, to whom the 
danger of encouraging such a passion was 
apparent, as both the young people were of 
an age when marriage was out of the ques- 
tion. By mutual consent the two families 
broke off all intimacy for a time. 
[ Victor Hugo found expression for his 
grief at the separation in a poem that is full 
of sad and gentle dignity. It is entitled 
"Le Premier Soupir." 

"Be happy, sweet one 1' all thy days be peace, 
Enjoy calm slumber on life's flowing stream, 
And waves of gladness lave each hour of thine I 
But, oh, how soon doth all my rapture cease ! 
My wounded soul dark in despair doth seem, 
Once forced to love, now bidden to resign 1" 

In spite, however, of this apparent resigna- 
tion, the obstacles placed in the way of his 



passion only increased its intensity, and ab- 
sence, instead of extinguishing his love, 
served only to increase it. His fevered im- 
agination devised a thousand means by 
which he might catch a glimpse of one 
without whom he felt it was impossible to 
exist. Numberless are the stratagems he 
contrived, and incredible the ingenuity with 
which they were executed; the freshness of 
his romance was itself an exquisite idyl. ) 

An instance of the secret understanding 
between the lovers has since been discover- 
ed. " Han d'Islande," which we shall have 
to describe at a later page, though it did not 
appear till 1823, was commenced in 1820. It 
would hardly have been suspected how, 
amid the recitals of crime and the conglom- 
eration of terrible adventures, and beneath 
its scenes of thrilling horror, there lurks, as 
it were, a love-letter in some yawning and 
hideous gulf, a message of tenderness for 
one young girl. The pages of gloom and 
horror were for jailers, the passages of love 
were for her. 

Victor never despaired. He lived confident 
in his future happiness; but in the midst of 
his anticipations he was overwhelmed by a 
terrible blow. 

Madame Hugo took cold; infiammation of 
the chest again set in, and this time no devo- 
tion on the part of her sons could arrest the 
malady. 

The fondly loved mother died on the 27th 
of June, 1821. Abel, the eldest son, was 
summoned with all speed, and the three 
brothers followed the body to the Church of 
St. Sulpice, and thence to the Cemetery of 
Mont Parnasse. 

It seemed impossible for Victor to realize, 
as he returned to his desolate home, that he 
had lost forever the sweetness of maternal 
love: 

" the love that none forgets ; 
The bread which God divides and multiplies: 
A table ever spread where bounteous grace 
To each his portion gives, to none denie.s." 



VIOTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



61 



Yet he was to partake of that portion no 
more. He had lost a mother who to him 
had been more than a mother, inspiring him 
with his love for the beautiful and his rever- 
ence for the good. 

In the evening of the day of the funeral 
he returned to the cemetery, and there, over- 
come with grief and choked by sobs, he wan- 
dered up and down. He continued his walk 
till late, recalling his mother's image, and ever 
and again repeating her name, until he felt 
himself involuntarily attracted towards the 
being who alone could soften the bitterness 
of his sorrow. He wanted tenderness to con- 
sole him for the tender love that he had lost. 

Hurrying ofE to the Rue du Cherche-Midi, 
he looked into the window of the house and 
saw Adfele wearing a wreath of flowers and 
dancing. She knew nothing of what had 
happened; it was her birthday, and her fa- 
ther, not to mar her pleasure, had concealed 
from her the circumstance of Madame Hugo's 
death. 

Victor called on the following day. The 
young lovers shed tears together over his be- 
reavement, and exchanged afresh their vows 
of mutual fidelity. 

Mademoiselle Foucher had felt the separa- 
tion of the two families as keenly as her lov- 
er; like him, she had sighed in secret; and 
when, a few weeks later, he came in his 
mourning attire, more dejected than ever 
through his life of solitude, and made a for- 
mal offer of marriage, the young girl simply 
said that she already considered herself his 
fiancee. Her strength of purpose was so 
great and her affection so sincere that her 
parents knew that any opposition on then- 
part would be of no avail; but, as neither of 
them had any fortune, it was imperative that 
the marriage should be deferred until Vic- 
tor's resources from his profession should 
enable him to maintain a home. The prom- 
ise, however, went far to revive his spirits. 

A few weeks before this time he had met 
with an adventure which had somewhat seri- 
ous consequences, and might have been fatal. 
As a diversion in his sorrow, he took an ex- 
cursion to Versailles, where, after taking his 
luncheon at a cafe, he sat holding a news- 
paper in his hand, but which he was too ab- 
sorbed in his own sad thoughts to read. 
Sitting by his side was a life - guardsman, 
who, growing impatient in his anxiety to 
read the news, and observing that his neigh- 
bor was not using it, snatched the paper 
roughly from his hand. The young man. 



who looked little more than a boy, turned 
pale with rage, and forthwith challenged the 
soldier. 

A duel was arranged, the meeting taking 
place the same day. The parties fought in 
a room attached to one of the principal bar- 
racks in Versailles; and, in order to avoid 
any commotion, a company of soldiers was 
exercised in front of the door. Gaepard de 
Pons, an oflBcer of the Royal Guard, and Al- 
fred de Vigny were Hugo's seconds. In the 
second round he received a deepish sword- 
cut in his left arm below the shoulder. 
When the guardsman was informed that he 
had wounded "I'enfant sublime," his con- 
sternation was great, and he declared: 

"If I had known who he was, I would 
have let him run me through the body." 

It took a fortnight for the wound to heal, 
and the poet appUed himself afresh to his 
labors. 

His prospects could not be considered 
brilliant. As already mentioned, his allow- 
ance from his father had been withdrawn, 
and he was solely dependent on his own ex- 
ertions. His indomitable spirit, however, 
and his undaunted confidence in the fut- 
ure, supported him through all his season 
of poverty, and, with the utmost fortitude, 
he underwent that fine but trying ordeal 
from which "the weak emerge infamous, the 
strong sublime." 

The account, written long afterwards, of J 
the early years of Marius in "Les Misera- 
bles " may be accepted as by no means an 
inaccurate description of this period of his 
life. In his own wonderfully graphic lan- 
guage he there describes how the young 
man swept out his own landing, how he 
would buy a pennyworth of cheese at the 
grocer's, waiting till dusk to creep out to the 
baker's to get a loaf of bread, with which he 
would slink home as furtively as if he had 
stolen it; how, carrying his book under his 
arm, he would surreptitiously make his way 
to the butcher's at the comer, and, after be- 
ing elbowed and jeered at by a lot of ser- 
vant-girls, till he felt the sweat standing on 
his forehead, he would take off his hat to 
the astonished butcher and his shopboy and 
ask for a mutton cutlet, with which he 
would go off to cook it for himself, and to ) 
make it last for at least three days. 

For a whole year he lived on seven hun- 
dred francs, which were the proceeds of his 
pamphlets and the articles in the Conserva- 
UK/r. But at length, acting on his brother's 



VIOTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



advice, he determined to collect liis odes and 
issue them in a single volume. Lamartine's 
" Meditations " had been published two years 
previously, and he was sanguine of a similar 
success for his own venture. 

This first volume of the "Odes et Bal- 
lades " was printed by Gruiraudet in the Eue 
, Saint-Honorg, and published by Pelicier, 245 
Place du Palais Royal. In its exterior it had 
nothing to recommend it to the connoisseur 
in books, the paper being bad, and the print- 
ing vile. 

The volume was, in truth, the book of the 
author's youth. 

The first edition contains some pieces that 
were afterwards suppressed — "Raymond 
d'Assoli," an elegy; "Les Derniers Bardes," 
a poem; and an " IdyUe," being a dialogue be- 
tween an old and a young man. The last of 
these has been introduced into the third vol- 
ume of the " Annales Eomantiques " under 
the title of "Les Deux Ages." 

Not only in Paris, but in the country, the 
book made a considerable sensation; fresh 
editions had to be brought out year by year. 
That issued in 1829, on the page facing 
"L'Ode a la Colonne," contains a curious 
portrait of Hugo in a long frock-coat, loung- 
ing with his elbows on a sofa cushion; on 
the right, in a prismatic ray, stands the Ven- 
d6me Column with a group of eagles hover- 
ing over it; on the ground lie some papers 
and a terrestrial globe. 

It would be too long a task to enumerate 
all the editions of the work. Its immediate 
effect was to bring the author into promi- 
nence, and, as a consequence of its success, 
there were some who endeavored to stir up 
Lamartine's jealousy against a writer who 
had risen to such popularity. It is impossi- 
ble to judge whether Lamartiue was sincere 
in his protestations that he entertained no 
feeling of the kind; but it is at least certain 
that, notwithstanding their wide diEEerence 
of style and subsequent divergence of opin- 
ion, no one ever succeeded in bringing to 
open variance the two great men that seemed 
bom to understand and respect each other. 
Envy is a sentiment that never for a mo- 
ment found an entrance iato Victor Hugo's 
lofty soul. 

There is no need to conceal that the " Odes 
et BaUades " present many ideas that would 
find no approval now; but the poet, never- 
theless, has declared that he could proudly 
and conscientiously place them side by side 
with the democratical books and poems of his 



matured manhood. This, he says, he should 
be prepared to do because, in the fierce 
strife against early prejudices imbibed with 
a mother's milk, and in the slow, rough as- 
cent from the false to the true, which, to a 
certain extent, makes up the substance of 
every man's life, and causes the development 
of his conscience to be the type of human 
progress in general, each step so taken rep- 
resents some material sacrifice to moral ad- 
vancement, some interest abandoned, some 
vanity eschewed, some worldly benefit re- 
nounced — nay, perhaps some risk of home or 
even life incurred. 

Victor Hugo is all the more justified in 
being proud of these productions when it is 
considered that, only twenty years old, and 
not yet an object of envy, he was so ap- 
plauded by the best critics of the time, and 
so patronized by the chief personages of the 
Restoration, that he could easily have turn- 
ed his position into a source of profit. The 
royalist party then in power was in urgent 
need of rising men, not simply of talent and 
energy, but of high character. 

The poet, however, was faithful to his love 
of art. His dreams were of a glorious fut- 
ure; and although his prosperity appeared . 
for the time to depend upon compliance 
with the temptation held out to him, and 
notwithstanding that the poverty with which 
he was struggling was the sole obstacle to 
his marriage, he would not for a moment 
lend his ear to any of the solicitations with 
which he was plied. He kept aloof from 
all intrigue, and, unabashed by his restricted 
circumstances, he held his head erect and 
maintained the moral dignity that was his 
rule of life. 

To him poetry was too dear to be made 
subordinate to other interests. He wished 
that his whole soul should appear in his. 
odes, his whole imagination in his ballads; 
and from the first appearance of his work in 
1822 he gave indications, not to be misun- 
derstood, of his literary aim. 

Although but twenty, he ventured to as- 
sert that if, during the last thirty years, the 
French ode had lost much of its power in 
depicting the touching and the terrible, the 
stem and the startling, the mysterious and 
the marvellous, the defect was not to be at- 
tributed in the least to the essence of the 
ode, but to the form with which the lyric 
writers had clothed it. 

To his mind it seemed that the chilliness 
and monotony that pervaded the modern 




A PKOVOCATION. 



64 



VICTOR EUOO AND HIS TIME. 



ode were to be attributed to the superabun- 
dance of apostrophes, exclamations, personi- 
fications of inanimate objects, and similar 
forms of vehemence that were thrown into 
them with the effect of burdening rather 
than of firing the imagination. He con- 
ceived that by placing the movement of the 
verses rather in the ideas than in the diction, 
by having one fundamental subject as the 
basis of all, and by substituting for the staid 
old colors of the heathen mythology the 
newer tints of Christianity, the ode might 
be invested with something of dramatic in- 
terest, and so be constructed to utter lan- 
guage that, though it might be stern, should 
yet be consoling. 

Here, then, was the first declaration of war 
against the style of poetry designated the 
classical; it was the prelude of numberless 
battles ; but from that day forward we may 
recognize the goal towards which the poet 
advances with a steady tread, resolved to 
rear a flag of liberty for art. For this, as we 
shall see, his efforts had to be unwearied. 

The manuscript sheets of the " Odes et 
Ballades" are covered with corrections; the 
alterations, some of which are noted in the 
final edition, consist of verses entirely re- 
written and lines frequently revised and in- 
verted. In the ne varietur edition it has been 
deemed inexpedient to reproduce certain 
verses written in the author's youth which 
he himself when a man subsequently con- 
demned; he found it hard to please himself, 
but wished to have his due. 

After his mother's death, he remained for 
a short time in a small room in the Rue de 
Meziferes, but afterwards left it for 30 Rue du 
Dragon (formerly Rue du Sepulcre), where 
he shared a couple of rooms at the top of the 
house with one of his cousins, a young law- 
student. 

The front room, which looked out upon 
the street, served as a parlor, and was fur- 
nished with a table and a few chairs, the 
prizes gained in the Jeux Floraux being ar- 
ranged over the mantel-piece. This apart- 
ment opened into a bedroom containing two 
little wooden bedsteads, and overlooking a 
yard. 

At that time the young author had only 
three white shirts in his possession, but his 
scanty supply of linen did not prevent him 
from always looking scrupulously neat. Out 
of his little capital he had bought a bright- 
blue coat with gilt buttons, which he wore 
on any occasion when he happened to dine 



out. Not caring for ordinary amusements, 
he endeavored to form associations that were 
worth cultivating, and was invited to salons 
to which admission was not generally easy, 
and where he was made much of. Literary 
people felt that they were doing well to give 
encouragement to the proud young poet, who 
asked no assistance from others, and was de- 
termined to show his father that he was ca- 
pable of maintaining himself. At the com- 
mencement of the century it was the wont 
of polished society to take an interest in 
young beginners who appeared to be main- 
taining the brilliancy of early promise; and 
Victor in this way formed the valuable friend- 
ship of such men as Soumet, Alexandre Gui- 
raud, Pichat, Jules Lef 6 vre, fimile Deschamps, 
and Alfred de Vigny, some of whom would 
visit him in his garret, and listen to him as 
with his thrilling voice he read his first su- 
perb strophes. 

The first edition of the "Odes" having 
brought in a profit of 700 francs, a second 
edition 'immediately followed, and, as "it 
never rains but it pours," Louis XVIII. con- 
ceived the idea of allowing the poet a pen- 
sion of 1000 francs from his privy purse. 
The king had been flattered by allusions to 
himself in some verses to which his reader 
had called his attention; but he had a further 
reason for his generosity, to which we must 
presently refer. 

The pension came at a timely hour; to- 
gether with his improved resources, it enalaled 
Victor Hugo to press his offer of marriage. 
For some months he went to reside with his 
brother Al^el in the Rue du Vieux-Colombier, 
in a house for which he has since sought 
in vain, but which, as far as he remembers, 
was by the side of the quarters of the fire- 
brigade. 

Hitherto the young poet had had but few 
opportunities of seeing his JianeSe, their in- 
terviews being limited to a weekly visit at 
her father's house, and some rare meetings 
which Madame Foucher permitted in the 
Luxembourg; but at this period he spent a 
whole summer with the lady and her fam- 
ily at Gentilly, close to Bicitre. From the 
house was a view of the verdant valley of 
the BiSvre, where with happy walks in lov- 
ing companionship the sefison passed joy- 
fully away ; for the future all looked 
bright. 

And thus there came an end to the sigh- 
ings of the youth, who, in his letters to Ad^le, 
had lamented the cruelty of fate, and de- 



iiliiifei* 




THE ROOM IN TlIK BUE DU UiiAttON. 
5 



66 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



clared that patience was not one of his vir- 
tues. But for him love had been an elevating 
sentiment; it had raised his thoughts above 
the distractions of earth by associating them 
with a higher sphere; such love cannot fail 
to bring its own recompense. 

Victor now asked his father's consent. Gen- 
eral Hugo had some little time previously to 
this contracted a second marriage, and had 
retired to Blois; he had begun to feel a cer- 
tain amount of confidence in his son's attain- 
ments, and did not hesitate to accede to his 
request. 

Lamennais, the eminent priest destined to 
be a convert to democracy, and, in the name 
of reason, to reject his Catholic creed, to 
whom the young poet had been introduced 
by M. de Kohan, gave him his certificate of 
confession. By a strange coincidence this 
priest was then residing in the old house in 
the Impasse des Feuillantines. Many times 
in letters afterwards quoted by Madame 
Victor Hugo, he expressed his esteem for the 
man who, in his advanced years, was to write 
"Religions et Religion;" paths almost paral- 
lel in the field of pjiilosophy seemed to lie 
before the two mighty intellects. 

It was without any application on his own 
part that Victor Hugo had been assigned a 
pension by Louis XVIII. The poet attrib- 
uted the act of generosity to the publication 
of the "Odes," but, as already hinted, there 
was another motive in the background. 

In 1822 the Saumur plot took place. Among 
the conspirators were Berton, Cafe, who 
opened his veins with a piece of glass, and 
a young man named Delon, who, when Vic- 
tor was a child, had often shared his romps 
in the courtyard of the Rue de Clichy. 

Delon's father, formerly an oflBcer serving 
under General Hugo, had been the informant 
in General Lahorie's case, causing his arrest, 
and in consequence of that all intercourse 
between the families had been broken off; 
but Victor had never forgotten his old play- 
fellow, and as soon as he heard that he was 
in danger he resolved to ofEer him a ref- 
uge. 

He wrote to Delon's mother, the wife of a 
royal lieutenant residing at St. Denis, telling 
her that, although he was himself living in 
the Rue du Dragon, he had a room at his dis- 



posal in the Rue de MeziSres. "Let your 
son conceal himself there; my devotion to 
the Bourbons is too well known for him to 
be sought in such a retreat." 

This letter, addressed to the mother of a 
man who had all the police upon his track, 
was unsuspiciously put by Victor into the 
post. Evening after evening he took his 
stand in the street close to the proposed asy- 
lum, seeing in every passenger that came be- 
neath the shadow of the wall the friend he 
thought to recognize; but Delon was far too 
prudent to venture. 

As might have been anticipated, the letter 
had been conveyed from the post-offlce to 
the council-chamber, and there submitted to 
Louis. The king smiled and said, "That 
young man has a good heart as well as a 
great genius; he is an honorable fellow; I 
shall take care he has the next pension that 
falls vacant." 

Such was the real origin of what was pre- 
sumed to be simply an act of royal patron- 
age. 

The letter was reclosed and forwarded to 
its address. Had Delon accepted the pro- 
posal, there can be no doubt that he would 
have been arrested, and very probably he 
would have been executed. 

At a later date Victor Hugo heard this ac- 
count from the postmaster himself, a M. 
Roger, who aspired to be a dramatic au- 
thor, publishing several works having no 
claims to remembrance. It was a joke of 
the period that "the Academic and the post- 
offlce had almost made M. Roger a man of 
Utters." 

On hearing the facts, the poet rushed 
from the postmaster's office with an excla- 
mation of horror that ever his pension should 
have been awarded as the price of blood. 

Delon was far too well acquainted with the 
ways of the police to listen to any suggestion 
of the kind; he took good care to make his 
way abroad — but henceforward Victor Hugo 
began to doubt the prudence of putting con- 
fidence in princes. 

Nevertheless, at the time the pension so far 
contributed to Hugo's happiness that it en- 
abled him to leave his humble lodgings, and 
to accelerate the marriage which he had been 
contemplating so eagerly and so long. 



CHAPTER IX. 



The Poet's Marriage.— Illness and Death of Eag6ne Hugo.— Geneial Hugo in Paris.— His Influence on Vic- 
tor.—" Han d'Islande."— Scope of the Work Its Reception by the Critics.— Charles Nodier's Approval. 

— Partisans of the Boole— Drama Founded on it Fortune Smiles on the Poet The House in the Hue de 

Vaugirard La Revue i<>onfaise. — Victor Hugo's Opinion of Voltaire in 1824. — His Observations on 

Lamennais, Walter Scott, and Byron Achille Deveria and Louis Boulauger. 



In October, 1823, Victor Hugo was mar- 
ried in the chapel of the Church of St. Sul- 
pice, where, eighteen months before, he had 
attended his mother's funeral. M. Soumet 
and M. Ancelot were the witnesses, and Al- 
fred de Vigny was likewise present. 

The wedding took place from the house of 
M. Foucher, the bride's father, who still re- 
sided in the hotel of the War Office. There it 
was that hospitality was first provided for 
the young couple, whose united ages were 
under two-score, and who started in life with- 
out a dowry. The bridegroom, whose entire 
fortune consisted of 800 francs, had presented 
his bride with a wedding-dress of French cash- 
mere. The cashmere had been purchased 
from the proceeds of the " Odes et Ballades!" 
Could a queen boast of a robe of more costly 
fabric? 

The brealrfast that followed the religious 
ceremony was given, by a strange coincidence, 
in the hall where General Lahorie had re- 
ceived his sentence of death. 

In that giant existence of which we are 
tracing the story, sorrow rarely seems to have 
been disassociated with its joy. A terrible 
event marred the brightness of the occasion. 
The wedding breakfast was hardly over when 
Victor's brother EugSne, who for some little 
time had been exhibiting symptoms of over- 
excitement of the brain, was seized with a fit 
of madness. 

This young man, who had preceded Victor 
as a poet — contributing, as has been already 
said, a number of articles to the Oonservateur 
latteraire — had given tokens of considerable 
promise. He has left only some novels and 
pieces of verse, of which a critic has re- 
marked that "they are types of his own 
melancholy fate ; his reviews, too, of new 
work and dramas, while they exhibit intense 
conscientiousness, always express any cen- 
sure with an anxiety which seems affrighted 
at the future." He was .endowed with an 
over-vivid imagination, and his natural ten- 



dency to melancholy was, in consequence of 
an unfortunate attachment, aggravated into 
a morbid madness. Dr. Esquirol was called 
in, but his skill was of no avail, and in a very 
short time Eugene succumbed to his malady. 

General Hugo had not been present at the 
marriage, but he came to Paris to take a last 
farewell of his second son. During his visit 
his behavior to Victor was most affectionate; 
and whatever differences of opinion might 
exist between the soldier of the Empire and 
the son of the Vendean who in the storms of 
1793 had saved nineteen priests, all seemed 
to be forgotten. 

In a letter written two years previously to 
one of his intimate friends, Victor Hugo has 
mentioned how one day, when he had been 
enunciating his royalist principles,his father, 
who had listened in silence, turned to Gen- 
eral L , who was standing by, and said, 

"Give him time; as a youth he holds his 
mother's opinions, as a man he will adopt the 
father's." 

The prediction set the poet thinking. He 
could not fail to observe that young men on 
their first awakening to political life were in 
strange perplexity. They found their fathers 
hailing Napoleon Bonaparte as the hero who 
conferred on them their epaulets, while their 
mothers only saw in him the adventurer who 
robbed them of their sons. 

The same letter goes on: "Born under the 
Consulate, we children grew up at our moth- 
ers' knees while our fathers were in camp; 
and often have those mothers, bereaved -per- 
haps of husband or brother by the insatiable 
craving for conquest of a single man, fixed 
upon us their loving eyes, all full of tears, 
and thought how their little ones, now eight 
or ten years old, would be conscripts in 1830, 
and either colonels or corpses in 1835. 

"The acclamations that greeted Louis 
XVIII. were an outburst of maternal ecstasy. 

' ' Taken altogether, there are few young 
men of our generation who did not imbibe 



68 



VIOTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



■with their mothers' milk an abhorrence of 
the two tempestuous periods preceding the 
Restoration. In 1803 the children's bugbear 
was Robespierre ; in 1815 their terror was 
Napoleon." 

Victor Hugo concludes his letter by ad- 
mitting that experience may modify our first 
impressions of life, but insisting that an 
honest man is bound to submit all such mod- 
ifications to the rigid scrutiny of conscience. 
For himself, indeed, it was his conscience 
that he always consulted. It was not at once 
that he renounced the hatred for the conquer- 
ing despot with which he had been imbued; 
but little by little he was won over by his fa- 
ther's enthusiasm, so that in course of time 
he fulfilled the prediction that had been made 
about himself, and proceeded to celebrate in 
verse the armies of the "chef prodigieux," 
and to swell the honors of I'Arc de I'Etoile as 
the portal of victory. 

But this change, though in a measure fore- 
seen, carried with it its own fate. Led away 
for a time by what seemed great issues, he 
embraced his father's views ; but his con- 
science, enlightened day by day, soon dictated 
quite another bias. 

With the indefatigable industry that ap- 
pertained to him, Victor Hugo set to work 
immediately after his marriage, and in a few 
months completed his romance "Hand'Is- 
lande." 

The first edition appeared anonymously in 
1823, and he received 1000 francs from the 
sale. At that time it was quite unusual for 
young authors to prefix their names to their 
works : Lamartine's "Premieres Meditations " 
had been published without the writer's 
name, and about the same time M. Thiers, 
then making his debut in public life, brought 
out "L'Histoire de la Revolution Franfaise" 
under the nom de plume of Felix Bodin. 

The original work was in four volumes. 
The issue of these was temporarily interrupt- 
ed because the editor suspended his pay- 
ments, and a correspondence was opened 
with the author. 'The letters, which are 
somewhat bitter in tone, are to be found 
partly in L'JEelavi; a royalist journal, and 
partly in the liberal publication Le Miroir of 
May, 1833. 

But this incidental difficulty did not pre- 
vent public curiosity being keenly interested 
in the book. The poet's powerful imagina- 
tion is revealed in the thrilling situations, the 
magnificent descriptions of scenery, and the 
careful historical studies that the story con- 



tains; while coincident with an aggregation 
of the most hideous crimes lies a charming 
picture of chaste and ideal love. 

As Victor Hugo has himself remarked, it 
is the work not merely of a young man, but 
of a very young man. In reading it one is 
conscious that the comparative youth who 
began to write it during the paroxysms of the 
fever of 1831 had as yet no experience either 
of men, of things, or of truth, and was only 
guessing at them all. According to the au- 
thor's own estimate, " Han d'Islande " is mere- 
ly a fanciful romance in which a young man's 
love is the one object felt, and a young girl's 
love the one subject observed. It is his own 
statement that, "afraid to trust to any living 
soul the secret love and grief that he felt 
within him," he chose his paper to be the 
confidant of his spirit in the hour that sepa- 
rated him from the object of his passion. 

Certain parts of "Han d'Islande" bear a 
marked resemblance to the style of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott. The plot turns entirely upon the 
search prosecuted by young Captain Ordener 
for papers that will save the life of Chancel- 
lor Schumaker, the father of Estel, his prom- 
ised bride ; the main interest centres in a 
miners' conspiracy, in which the old man is* 
erroneously supposed to be implicated. 

The hero of the romance, the legendary 
Han d'Islande, is a monster who drinks sea- 
water and blood out of his son's skull, and is 
the terror of the whole country-side. With 
him it comes about that the captain has final- 
ly to dispute the possession of the documents, 
and it is only by the interposition of a bear 
that the monster escapes becoming the victim 
of Ordener's fury. 

Received by the critics with equal aston- 
ishment and irritation, the work was handled 
with a severity that almost amounted to in- 
sult. On the other hand, there were men of 
both judgment and talent who did not hesi- 
tate to pronounce in its favor. 

So far from censuring this early venture, 
Charles Nodier welcomed it with enthusiasm. 
He told his friends that the unknown author 
had put forth a marvellous ideal of night- 
mare; and he wrote a long article in the Quo- 
tidierme, in which he observed that it was 
characteristic of very few to commence only 
with faults voluntarily introduced, and which 
they already knew were open to criticism. 
Delighted to see any one break a lance with 
classic literature, he prognosticated an im- 
mense success for "Han d'Islande," main- 
taining that it was the outcome of a strong 




HAN D ISLANDB. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 




CHARLES NODIER, 



intellect and great study, and that it was 
written in a bright, picturesque, and nervous 
style, with a delicacy of touch and retinement 
of expression that formed a striking contrast 
to its wild and grotesque play of fancy. 

Without delay, Victor Hugo hurried oif to 
tender his thanks to the kind-hearted review- 
er. Nodier started with surprise at the rev- 
elation that the author of the weird and ter- 
rible romance was actually the writer of the 
' ' Odes et Ballades ;" but, on recovering from 
his amazement, he gave him a hearty greet- 
ing, and the interview was the commence- 
ment of a lasting friendship between the two. 

Another partisan, hardly less energetic, of 
the production that was the subject of so 
much attack was Mery, the author of a great 
many charming standard books, and a fellow- 
contributor with Barthelemy to the Nemesis. 
After a series of singular adventures at Mar- 
seilles, this matchless journalist and brilliant 
orator had just come to Paris. Conjointly 
with M. Rabbe, who was then writing his 
history of the popes, he asserted in the Tab- 
lettes tlniverselles that "Han d'Islande " was a 
meritorious work, in every way deserving 
the study and attention of the public. 

After thus recording the praise of such 
men as Charles Nodier and Mery, we may 
well feel ourselves more than justified in ig- 
noring the many adverse and insulting strict- 
ures of certain critics of little or of no au- 
thority. 

M. Rabbe himself awarded unbounded 
praise to "Han d'Islande." We have al- 
ready quoted some of his opinions on Vic- 
tor Hugo's early years; he was his devoted 



friend and his biographer. He died young, 
the victim of a disease that disfigured him 
so terribly as to embitter his existence. 

In spite, if not in consequence, of the nu- 
merous tierce attacks upon the book, there 
was very soon a demand for a new edition. 
In a humorous preface to this, the author 
expresses his satisfaction at the enormous 
success of his work, some half-dozen people 
at least having read it from beginning to 
end. He tenders his acknowledgments to 
the fair readers, who, he has been informed, 
have made up their own idea of what the 
author is like ; he describes how flattered he 
feels by hearing that they have invested him 
with red hair, frizzly beard, and haggard 
eyes; he is overwhelmed by the honor they 
do him in representing that he never cuts 
his nails; but on bended knee he begs them 
not to believe that he carries his ferocity so 
far as to devour little infants alive; in con- 
clusion, he assures them that he will do his 
best to merit their kind sentiments by striv- 
ing to attain the high renown of the authors 
of "Lolotte et Fanfan" and of "Monsieur 
Botte." 

The irony of the defence conveys some 
idea of the virulence of the attack. The 
classics declared that the journals in which 
' ' Han d'Islande " got a chance commenda- 
tion were edited by bricklayers, barbers, and 
tinkers; but the savage critics I'eceived an 
unanswerable rebuke when it transpired that 
the booksellers Lecointre and Durey had pur- 
chased the second edition for 10,000 francs. 

Fo^rtuue was now smiling on the poet, and 
the young couple were enjoying what to them 
seemed an inundation of wealth. About the 
same time, too, the king doubled the amount 
of the pen.sion, and the modest household, 
which had hitherto found its quarters in a 
small residence in the Rue du Cherche-Midi, 
now shifted to a more permanent settlement 
at 90 Rue de Vaugirard. Nodier, without 
any ceremony, accompanied by his wife and 
daughter Marie, attended at a house-warming 
entertainment. 

In recognition of Ms devoted loyalty, as 
well as of his literary attainments, Nodier 
about this time was appointed librarian at 
the Arsenal. The amiable and accomplished 
writer managed his reputation with consider- 
able tact. He maintained the most friendly 
relations with all who were in any way fa- 
mous during the great literary epoch of the 
Restoration, and throughout Ms life was al- 
ways surrounded by illustrious society. 



riGTOB HUGO AND IIW TIME. 



71 



At the time when Victor Hugo, wlio called 
him his master, was becoming the leader of 
the new school, Charles Nodier kept his mlan 
open as a common rendezvous alike for clas- 
sics and romantics, for royalists and liberals. 
But his preference was specially for the au- 
thor of "Han d'Islande;" as he was one of 
the first to pay his homage to the work, so 
he never ceased to regard the poet with es- 
teem and admiration. 

With one further reference we may con- 
clude our notice of " Han d'Islande." 

On the 25th of January, 1832, a grand melo- 
drama in three acts and of eight scenes, found- 
ed upon the romance, was brought out at the 
Theatre de I'Ambigu-Comique. The authors 
responsible for the adaptation were named 
Palmir, Octo, and Rameau. The music was 
by M. Adrien.the scenery by M. Desfontaincs, 
and the divertisement by M. Theodore: this 
last consisted of a village fete, and could not 
be said to do much credit to M. Theodore's 
powers of imagination. 

The hero, who was usually attired in skins 
and armed with a hatchet, chiefly attracted 
attention in the difficult part he had to play 
by the loud roars that signalized his en- 
trances and exits. The utilitj' of this fanciful 
melodrama was not altogether apparent; and, 
in spite of the excellent intentions of the 
adapters, the original plot was by no means 
left intact. One peculiarity very much com- 
mends the piece to the lovers of spectacle. 
M. Montigny, who afterwards became the in- 
telligent manager of the Gymnase Drama- 
tique, doubled the part of Han d'Islande, which 
had been created by M. Francisque. 

It would have been an oversight on the 
part of the historian to omit all notice of this 
dramatic curiosity. 

During the year succeeding his marriage, 
Victor Hugo was a contributor to a magazine 
called La Revue Firmfake, which had been 
started by Soumet, Guiraud, and Emile Des- 
champs. The review was but short-lived, but 
the young writer gave such decided proof of 
his knowledge and power, his literary judg- 
ment and his fine imagination, that every 
member of the artistic world was anxious to 
make his acquaintance. 

Among those of his artist friends whose 
attachment to him was then most sincere, 
and whose belief in his future fame was most 
confident, should be mentioned Achille Deve- 
ria, who drew the beautiful vignettes for the 
early editions of the "Odes et Ballades," 
' ' Bug-Jargal, " and ' ' Hernani. " By this large- 



liearted and talented man, the truly French 
art of illustration, which was in its infancy 
in 1825, was developed with surprising brill- 
iancy; and it was by the help of his singular 
skill that the " Bibliothfique " was enabled to 
set on foot the formation of a collection of 
engravings on a scientific and practical basis. 
His pupils were his brother Eugfine, who, 
however, did not fulfil his early promise, and 
Louis Boulanger, who was, as a painter, the 
first sincere apostle of the romantic school. 
In after years Louis Boulanger painted a 
striking portrait of Victor Hugo, who, after 
thus giving him his patronage, dedicated to 
him some clever verses. Endowed with an 
imagination of which the fertility seemed in- 
exhaustible, this leading spirit of the 1830 
school produced some brilliant pictures of 
scenes in "Notre Dame de Paris" and "Lu- 
crfice Borgia." Victor Hugo always desig- 
nated him his painter and his friend. 

But, as we liave said, in the early days of 
his career Achille Deveria was the most in- 
timate of all the poet's companions. In 1825 
the two families met nearly every day; either 
Hugo would dine with Deveria, or Deveria 
with Hugo. It would not appear that these 
repasts were bj' any means worthy of Lucul- 
lus, but intellect and wit gave flavor to the 
viands, merriment and laughter supplied the 
place of the entremeU, and gave its own effer- 
vescence to the meagre wine that filled their 
glasses. Even to his old-age it was an inti- 
macy to which Victor Hugo could ever al- 
lude as one of the most pleasing associations 
of his life. 

About this time Victor Hugo was com- 
missioned to write a notice of Voltaire. This 
was subsequently reprinted in his "Melanges 
de Litterature." AVritten by a Catholic roy- 
alist, the eulogium on the philosopher could 
not be otherwise than very qualified in its 
tone, but nevertheless, in spite of all restric- 
tions and prejudices, and after asserting of 
Voltaire that he had developed and aggra- 
vated the latent disorders of the age, Victor 
Hugo renders homage to the marvellous in- 
tellect of which as yet he did not compre- 
hend the full power ; he pronounced him to 
have attraction without grace, fascination 
without charm, and brilliancj' witliout dig- 
nity. In short, it is plain that he had not 
yet reached the point when he could proper- 
ly appreciate what Voltaire was. 

Fift}'-four years later, at Voltaire's cente- 
nary, we shall see that he held a very differ- 
ent estimate. Then he beheld the immortal 



73 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



■ author of the "Essai sur les Moeurs" in a 
finer light; lie glorified him as one "who 
had waged the war of the just against the 
unjust, the oppressed against the oppressor; 
the war of gentleness, the war of kind- 
ness," and lauded him as one "who united 
the tenderness of a woman to the fire of a 
hero, a being of noble spirit and of expan- 
sive heart!" 

These differences of opinion should be 
brought out into bold relief and open con- 
trast. Victor Hugo has ever been ready to 
recall them, in order that he might frankly 
compare them as illustrating how the contra- 
dictions of his life are superficial rather than 
radical, and as showing by what secret afiini- 
ties ideas that are apparently divergent may 
unite themselves in one central thought that 
gradually detaches itself from their midst 
and ultimately absorbs them all. 

Although in the critical essay of 1834 Vic- 
tor Hugo had thus handled Voltaire rather 
severely, he had nothing but unqualified 
praise for his illustrious friend the Abbe de 
LamennaiSjWho had just published his "Es- 
sai sur rindifference en MatiSre de Religion." 
In reference to this venerable priest, Victor 
Hugo said that he seemed to have come casu- 
ally in contact with glory to mount at once 
to the topmost heights of literary celebrity, 
and added: " This dignified and impassioned 
writer, with a simplicity that is magnificent, 
with an earnestness that is vehement, and 
with an intensity that is sublime, appeals to 
the heart by every tenderness, to the under- 
standing by every artifice, to the soul by 
eveiy enthusiasm. ... He has been assailed 
by a storm of reproaches that every one who 
makes them should direct to his own indi- 
vidual conscience ; he has made all the vices 
that he would expunge from the human heart 
cry out like the buyers and sellers expelled 
from the temple. . . . We have heard it de- 
clared that his austere temper would cast a 
melancholy cloud over human life, and that 
the gloomy priest wants to pluck up every 
flower that grows along man's path. It may 
be so; but the flowers to be plucked up are 
only those that conceal an abyss." 

Only a short time before issuing this glow- 
ing eulogium upon Lamennais, Victor Hugo 
had written a critique upon Sir Walter Scott, 
in which he gave his opinion that ' ' Quentin 
Durward " is a book that well portrays how 



loyalty, though its representative may be 
young, obscure, and needy, is certain to at- 
tain its end more readily than perfidy, even 
when assisted by all the resources of wealth, 
power, and experience. 

Again, in June, 1834, he published his ideas 
of Lord Byron, who had just fallen a victim 
to his noljle ambition, the regeneration of 
G-reece. The poet of France bears magnani- 
mous tribute to the talent of England. He 
dwells with lofty enthusiasm upon the proud 
portals of Westminster Abbey, opening, as it 
were, of their own accord that Byron's tomb 
might dignify the resting-place of kings, and 
he bitterly reproaches Paris for having cast 
contempt upon his coflin. 

Byron's school at the beginning of this 
century was commonly designated the Sa- 
tanic school. With reference to this expres- 
sion Victor Hugo has wittily remarked in a 
note that the literary niots of a period may 
represent not so much the character of the 
works of the time as the sentiments of those 
who, often unknown to the authors them- 
selves, have had the leading part in invent- 
ing them. 

The article upon Byron contains some im- 
portant paragraphs. Although the author of 
the "Odes et Ballades" at twenty-two years 
of age could congratulate himself that he had 
formed ties of friendship with not a few of 
the leading spirits of his day, he expresses 
his great regret that he has never made Lord 
Byron's acquaintance, and applies to him a 
touching line of verse which a poet of his 
school had addressed to the generous shade 
of Andre Chenier: 



" Farewell, yonng 

seen;" 



friend ! my friend, though never 



and then he goes on to declare his astonish- 
ment that there were minds capable of be- 
lieving that the literature denominated classic 
had an existence still; he maintains that the 
literature of ages passed away, though leav- 
ing behind it immortal monuments, has de- 
parted with the social life and political ideas 
of those who were its exponents. 

This was the commencement of the war; 
this was the crossing of the Rubicon! The 
spear was now poised for the strife; and it 
becomes our task to recount the battles from 
which the poet came out triumphant, bearing 
the palm of victory. 



VICTOR HUGO AND 1118 TIME. 



78 



CHAPTER X. 

Journey to Blois.— Victor Hugo Made Chevalier of tlie Legion of Honor.— Coronation of Charles X.— Visit 
to Lamartine — Trip Across the Alps. — Return to Paris. — Proclamation uf Literary Liberty.— Birth of 

Romanticism.— Wrath of the Classics.— Literature of the First Empire Hevival at the Beginuiug of 

the Present Century.— Prelude of a Great War Caiicatiire of a Classic.—" L'Ode i la Coloune." 



" I SHALL hope to see you soon at Blois," 
were General Hugo's farewell words to Vic- 
tor on leaving Paris, whither he had come, as 
we have related, on the melancholy errand 
of attending Eugene's death-bed. The old 
soldier of the Empire had now settled in 
Blois, and was living in complete retirement, 
occupying his leisure as usefully as he could. 

The invitation was accepted, and the jour- 
ney undertaken in April, 1825. The poet 
booked three places in the Bordeaux dili- 
gence, being accompanied by his wife and 
by his little daughter Leopoldine, whc. had 
been born the previous year, just about the 
same time that the new volume of the " Odes " 
had been published. The infant grew up to 
be a charming girl, and was married, but 
died by an accident very soon after her wed- 
ding-day. 

After Victor Hugo had set his foot upon 
the diligence, he was hailed by a messenger 
who was running after him at full speed, 
having been to his house only to find him 
departed. The messenger delivered to him 
a packet bearing the royal seal, which turned 
out to be a patent appointing him a Chevalier 
of the Legion of Honor. 

The circumstances under which the deco- 
ration was conferred have been related by 
Alexandre Dumas. At first Victor Hugo and 
Lamartine had been included among a batch 
of others selected for a general promotion; 
but on the list being presented to Charles X., 
he struck out both the names. The Count 
de la Rochefoucauld, who had himself drawn 
up the list, and who took a great interest in 
the young poet, ventured to express his sur- 
prise at the two most deserving of the names 
being cancelled. The king replied that they 
were both far too illustrious to be included 
with the rest, and that they must be assigned 
a special promotion by themselves. 

During his journey to Blois.Victor com- 
posed his ballad of ' ' Les Deux Archers. " On 
his arrival he flung himself into the arms of 



his father and joyfully exhibited the papers 
which he had received at the moment of his 
setting out ; the General at once detached 
from his uniform one of the ribbons that he 
had won on the field of battle, and fastened 
it with his own hands on the breast of his 
son. 

The days sped happily away in the vet- 
eran's modest dwelling that has been sketched 
by the poet's own pen. 

"Its roof of slate ; of stone its white square walls. 
On which tlie green hill's slanting shadow falls ; 
Though to the roadside somewhat closely placed, 
On either hand by smiling orchards graced ; 
. . . Here doth my father dwell ; 
Enjoys the ease his sword has won so well." 

The visit was not of long duration, but it 
served to strengthen the ties of family affec- 
tion; not that anything which the father said 
could wean the son from his devotion to roy- 
alty. Victor firmly believed in the liberal 
promises made by the successor of Louis 
XVIII. , placing every confidence in the new 
king's assurances that not only was he anxious 
to introduce many reforms, Ijut was prepared 
to abolish the censorship of the press. 

While he was at Blois, Victor Hugo received 
an invitation from Charles X. to be present 
at his coronation at Rheims. Leaving his 
wife and child behind, the young poet started 
off without delay. From Paris to Rheims he 
travelled in company with Charles Nodier. 
The incidents of his journey, which occupied 
four days, have been related by Madame Vic- 
tor Hugo, and therefore need not be repeated 
here; suffice it to say that he thought the cor- 
onation very fine, but was somewhat shocked 
to see the king, according to custom, bow 
down in the cathedral at the archbishop's 
feet. 

At Rheims Victor Hugo met Lamartine. 
Both poets made a worthy acknowledgment 
of the royal invitation; the one, who had al- 
ready outvied Chateaubriand in celebrating 
the obsequies of Louis XVIII., wrote the 



74 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



"Ode a, Charles X.," while the other com- 
posed the "Chant du Sacre." They ended 
by becoming thoroughly acquainted, and La- 
martine reminded his rival of a promise he 
had made liim to go and see him at St. Point. 
Victor Hugo accordingly arranged to pay the 
visit at once. Nodier was of tlie party, and 
both the friends were accompanied by their 
families, Hugo stowing his little daughter's 
cradle in the post-cliaise. 

Once at Macon it seemed to them an op- 
portunity not to be lost for paying a visit to 
the Alps, and it was arranged that the ex- 
penses of the trip should be defrayed by the 
proceeds of a book in which they would all 
three have a hand. 

A booli written by Lamartine, Victor Hugo, 
and Charles Nodier was sure of success, and 
-a publisher was soon found, but unfortunate- 
ly he fell into difiiculties before the work 
could be issued. Victor Hugo, however, had 
completed his portion, which contained his 
impressions and experiences from Sallenches 
to Chamouni. Picturesque and attractive, 
full of episodes that are striking and dra- 
matic, and abounding in descriptions equally 
accurate and vivid, the narrative subsequent- 
ly appeared in the Revue des Deux Mbades, 
and was afterwards re-edited by Madame Vic- 
tor Hugo. 

On his return from this trip to Mont Blanc, 
the poet recommenced his literary labors in 
January, 1826. In a preface to a new edition 
of the "Odes," that were now separated from 
the ' ' Ballades, " he avowed his principles of 
liberty in the world of literature. The hour 
for the transformation he declares has ar- 
rived, and proceeds to expound his creed. 
f He cannot comprehend why, in reference 
s.^to literary productions, he hears so inces- 
santly of what is called the dignity of one 
style and the propriety of another, of the 
limits of this and the latitude of that; and, 
failing to understand these distinctions, he 
considers them to be without sense, because, 
as he puts it, nothing can belong to the good 
'and beautiful unless it is good and beautiful 
~^throughout; the works of the intellect must 
be simply good or simply bad. J 

"This liberty," he goes on to say, "need 
not result in disorder; liberty need not be 
anarchy, nor can any originality serve as a 
pretext for inaccuracy. In a literary pro- 
duction, the bolder the conception the more 
irreproachable should be the execution." / 

Such statements, prudent and pacific as 
they were, would not now be construed as a 



declaration of war, but at the time when 
they were first published they extorted yells 
of wrath from the partisans of the old liter- 
ature, who still preferred to drag themselves 
along the dusty paths of routine and imita- 
tion. 

By its birth Romanticism was to clear the 
temple of Art of the dealers in insipid prose; 
and the classics, aware of what was coming 
upon them, overwhelmed the innovators with 
obloquy. But, in spite of the howls of the 
eunuchs that guarded the necropolis of Tra- 
dition, the time for the infusion of new 
blood into French literature had now arrived. 
Casting aside her chains, Art was to rise all- 
radiant from her tomb, and, overturning her 
dismal guardians with one blow of her wing, 
was, all-triumphant, to rise aloft. 

It can hardly be imagined to what a de- 
gree of insignificance and decay French 
national literature had sunk. Under the 
Empire, the voices of authors had been sti- 
fled by the thunder of cannon. To Napoleon 
I. poets were merely men who made fine ar- 
rangements of words, and were useful only 
so far as they sounded his praises. Not that 
the great emperor had any actual design that 
letters should be neglected; on the contrary, 
in the interval between two campaigns, he 
occasionally gave his thoughts to their re- 
vival. During the periods of his armistices 
the laurels of Louis Quatorze would rise be- 
fore him as a vision, and he would have 
dreams of making a similar name for his 
own dynasty, and thus adding another ray 
to his own glory. Having ordered Talma 
to create some tragedies, he promised him 
an audience of kings, and was as good as 
his word; but Talma was not successful m 
anything but in interpreting the classical 
chefs-d'oiuvre which had received applause in 
the reign of the Grand Monarque. 

Bonaparte, who proscribed Chiiteaubriand 
and Madame de StaSl, had expected to be 
supplied with dramatists in the same way that 
he was provided with his conscripts, little 
thinking that while he was enlisting 300,000 
young men every year he was incurring the 
risk of killing an indefinite number of play- 
writers. 

Among those who eluded slaughter because 
they were either too old or too weak to be 
soldiers should be mentioned Alexandre Du- 
val, Baour-Lormian, Mercier, and especially 
Raynouard, who was the most illustrious of 
the imperial authors. To these may be add- 
ed the celebrated Luce de Lancival and the 




ROMANTICISM. 



76 



VICTOIi HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



great Delrieu, who never forgave the come- 
dians of the Theatre Franc/ais for always 
choosing free daj's on which to play his pieces. 
The conqueror's fame can hardly be said to 
have been much enhanced by the dramatic 
authors of his day. 

Other branches of literature were repre- 
sented very much in the same qualified way. 
The productions of the intellect were gradual- 
ly becoming more marked by feebleness, insi- 
piditj', and insignificance; and it seemed as 
though the power of thought had departed 
from the human brain, and that wit, imagina- 
tion, and enthusiasm had ceased to exist. 

In painting too, just as in poetry, there was 
notliing but what was utterly flat and com- 
monplace. But the young generation at 
length was aroused, and, waving the flag of 
Romanticism and shouting the hurrahs of 
independence, they rushed forward to the 
assault of the classic citadel. 
^ The word "romanticism" is no longer 
used in any but an historical sense, and oulj^ 
vaguelj' expresses some ill-defined doctrines; 
but it is a nom de guerre implying the princi- 
ples of a party; and the romantics were in- 
deed an army of bold and valorous cham- 
pions, elevated by the love of their art, and 
ready to dare every conflict in order to secure 
the triumph of their instinctive tendencies 
and aspirations towards the ideal. ) 
( And whence sprang this Romanticism? It 
appears to have had its first starting in Ger- 
man}', towards the end of the eighteenth cen- 
tury, by the political school of which Ludwig 
Tieck was one of the principal leaders. From 
Germany it was imported into France. ') 

French literature has never lost its own 
distinctive marks of originality, but at various 
times has submitted to be directed by foreign 
influence, although at other times it has itself 
been dominant and communicated its tone to 
the whole of Europe. In this way German 
llteraturs during the seventeenth and eigh- 
teenth centuries had been very much the mere 
reflex of the French; but at the beginning of 
the nineteenth it took an entirely new turn, 
receiving fresh life and elevation from itlop- 
stook, Herder, Schiller, and Goethe, to whose 
"Faust" Madame de Stael applies the saying 
that it treats ' ' de omnibus rebus et quibus- 
dam aliis." 

But still, as Philarfete Chasles has observed, 
between France and Germany there has ever 
flowed the Rhine, and the credit is due to 
Madame de Stael for having brought across 
this boundary the German literature which. 



received at first with a cordial welcome, still 
bears its prolific fruits. To that accomplished 
lady must be assigned the honor of national- 
izing among tbc French the "romanticism" 
which she her;?elf describes as ' ' the poetry 
originating in the songs of the troubadours — 
the ofl'spring of chivalry and Christianity." 

If this definition of Madame de Stagl's were 
correct, romanticism would have to be regard- 
ed as the intellect of the Romance races in 
conflict with the intellect of classical antiqui- 
ty, or simply modern genius in antagonism to 
the Greeks and Romans; but in reality it is 
nothing of the kind ; as Victor Hugo, Champ- 
fleury, and a hundred others have over and 
over again affirmed, it means nothing else 
but the development of liberalism in litera- 
ture. 

At the time when Germany was commenc- 
ing the grand task of emancipation in the 
world of letters, Byron in England was issu- 
ing the poems which gained for him the dis- 
tinction of "the Satanic," and which by their 
high coloring seemed to reveal to the young 
sons of France a new sphere for themselves, 
just awakening as they were to the apprecia- 
tion of Shakespeare, and beginning to dream 
of originality. 

Simultaneously with Madame de Stafil, 
Chateaubriand was contributing to the revi- 
val in France by the publication of "Le Ge- 
nie du Christianisme," " Atala," "Rene," a 
translation of Milton's "Paradise Lost," and 
" Les Martyrs." Flowing as they seemed 
from new and refreshing springs of thought, 
his works had the effect not only of kindling 
admiration for the Gothic cathedrals to which 
they referred, but of inspiring a requickened 
love for Nature in all her phases. 

No sooner was the path discovered than 
a multitude of the young were ready to vent- 
ure themselves along it. 

"When it is remembered," said Asselineau 
in his "Bibliographic Romantique," "from 
what point this generation started, and when 
it is considered what it has replaced, what it 
has reformed, and what it has revived, there 
are not praises enough to be found for the 
venerable flag that it has defended — a flag 
which, torn and pierced in the strife of bat- 
tles, ought to be suspended in the vault of a. 
pantheon, as having been the ensign of safety 
to the commonwealth of letters. The hands 
that waved it were victorious. To those who 
carried it is to be attributed the certainty 
that romance arose and shook off the lame- 
ness and frivolity of the last century; that 



VICTOR HUGO AND JUS TIME. 



77 



there was the issue from the press of manly 
productions such as could be rend and lis- 
tened to without a blush ; that the drama re- 
gained a power to attract and au energy to 
thrill; that verse re-echoed with a new life; 
and that prose, resuscitated from the torpid 
languor of the academic style, began to glow 
afresh with the vitality of health. To their 
sincerity, their detestation of tediousness, 
their sympathy with life and joy and fresh- 
ness, as well as to their youthful audacity, 
that was not abashed cither by ridicule or in- 
sult, belongs the honor of securing to the 
nineteenth century the triumph of libej-ty, 
invaluable in its preciousness, m the world 
of art." 

Having thus exalted their victory, Asseli- 
neau proceeds to enumerate the stars of the 
literary Pleiades. Next after Chateaubriand 
and Madame de Stac'l, lie recapitulates the 
names of Victor Hugo, Lamartine, Alexandre 
Dumas, Charles Nodier, Alfred de Vigny, 
Sainte-Beuve, Emile and Antony Deschamps, 
Balzac, Auguste Barl)ier, Georges Sand, Tlie- 
ophile Gautier, Merimee, Philarete Chasles, 
Alfred de Musset, Jules Janin, and Marcelline 
Valmore. Such was tlie cluster of which 
each individual, in his turn, was Ijrandedwith 
the epithet "romantic." 

We use the term ' ' branded " advisedly, be- 
cause at that period whoever was disposed to 
call things by their proper names, or who- 
ever did not choose to make his verses run 
two and two, "like j'oked oxen," was re- 
garded not only simply as tasteless or shame- 
less, but as thoroughljr demented. 

"Romanticism," wrote the Academician 
Duvergier de Hauranne, " is not a matter for 
ridicule; it is a disease as much as somnam- 
bulism or epilepsy. A romantic is a man 
whose brain has gone wrong; he is to be pit- 
ied, and should be reasoned with in order to 
bring him back gradually to his senses, l5ut 
he must not be laughed at, as he is more prop- 
erly a subject for medical diagnosis." 

This is a specimen of the way in which the 
young authors were treated who ventured to 
brave the public sneers in order to deliver 
that public from poring and yawning over 
biooks of the familiar stamp. It was their 
aim to make literature cease to be wearisome, 
but it was by no means an easy task to wean 
the multitudes from a style to which they 
had been habituated. 

At the time when the reform was being 
vforked out, the classics, finding themselves 
threatened with annihilation, did everything 



in their power to stir up the wrath of the pro- 
fessed disciples of order, and sjiared no pains 
in liolding'up the reformers to public repro- 
bation. This led Victor Hugo to declare 
that if the romantics had been thieves, mur- 
derers, and monsters of crime, they . could 
not have been exposed to severer objurga- 
tions. 

It may well be supposed that the poet had 
no great affection for these Philistines who 
came down to assault. One day in the neigh- 
borhood of Bingen he met a bear that had 
escaped from a menagerie. The phj^siogno- 
my of the brute, he said, reminded him of the 
sleepy, sanctimonious expression ever worn 
by the old luthitues of the theatres as they sat 
listening to their favorite tragedies. 

Some time afterwards, in one of his jocose 
moods, he scribbled down on the margin of a 
page in M. Auguste Vacquerie's " Profils et 
Grimaces" an off-hand caricature which he 
described as a portrait of a classic. 

For whom that portrait was designed must 




CARICATURE OF A CLASSIC. 
[Praivn by Victor Hvgo.) 



78 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



be left to conjecture. Perhaps the iosolent 
old fop thrusting his thumbs under his vest, 
"while he sneers as he expresses his detesta- 
tion for "nebulous" poetry, is Destigny the 
satirical, who described the romantics as be- 
ing as frantic and ridiculous as 

"A maniac herd from Charenton escaped !" 

Or perhaps it was Duvergier de Hauranne, 
or the renowned Viennet, who, in association 
with Baour-Lormian, was one of the most 
stubborn of the antagonists who waged war 
to the knife against the romantic party. 

Or if it was not Viennet that Victor Hugo 
meant to caricature by his rough sketch, it 
is possible that it was that other ' ' immortal " 
who called the romantics swine ; or it might 
have been intended for the famous Nepomu- 
cene Lemercier, who invoked the vengeance 
of his country upon the works of the new 
school, and thundered forth his Alexandrine, 

" Shall Hugos thus unpuulsh'd verses make ?" 

However erroneous these conjectures may 
be, it is at least certain that the poet amply 
avenged himself. But this is long past, and 
he has done better than that: he has forgiv- 
en all his opponents, and no longer recollects 
their impotent and ridiculous outbreaks of 
wrath. 

Such were some of the preliminary skir- 
mishes in the great epic struggle, which had 
its heroic as well as its ludicrous side, and 
which terminated, as we shall presently find, 
in a decisive victory for Eomanticism and its 
most prominent leader. 

But while Victor Hugo was incurring all 
this literary obloquy he was also alienating 
himself from the sympathies of the royalists 
in consequence of an incident that made a 
great sensation at the time. 

In February, 1837, the Austrian ambassa- 
dor in Paris gave a soiree, to which all the 
most illustrious French personages were in- 
vited. All the marshals who had been 
raised to the peerage by Napoleon I. at- 
tended the reception. On their arrival, how- 
ever, the ambassador's usher, acting under 
instructions given beforehand, omitted all 
their titles and announced them simply by 
their family name. Thus when the Due de 
Dalmatie eutered he was introduced as M. 
le Marechal Soult; the Due de Trevise was 



announced as Marechal Mortier; the Due 
de Raguse as Marechal Marmont; and so 
on with the Due de Reggio, the Due de 
Tarente, and all the other peers of the im- 
perial creation, although in every case they 
had informed the usher of their proper rank 
as noblemen. 

This was an insult to the whole army ; 
it was the way in which Austria chose to 
exact her vengeance for Napoleon's victo- 
ries. The marshals retired in silence, but 
the circumstance caused a deal of scandal, 
and Victor Hugo, indignant at the slight put 
upon his father's former companions in arms, 
took upon himself to avenge the aifront. 

He immediately wrote the ' ' Ode it la 
Colonne Vendome," which, like many oth- 
ers Oi his political poems, was printed sep- 
arately. Glorifying what he called the 
monument of vengeance, the glistening col- 
umn of sovereign bronze, he broke out into 
a strain of indignation which may be ap- 
proximately rendered^ 

" Though grovelling Austria strove to tread us dowu. 
The giaut strength of France has trampled ou her 

crown ; 
The pen of history the blazoned truth shall spread, 
What stands engraven on her vulture's doubled 
head: 
On one, great Charlemagne's all-crushing heel; 
On one, Napoleon's piercing spur of steel I" 

The entire ode was full of the praises of 
the column that recorded the victories that 
had been achieved, and upon which the 
stranger should gaze in silence and in wonder. 
Its wrathful tone, foreshadowing the writer 
of " Les Chatiments, " at once brought him 
into suspicion and caused him to be accused 
of deserting the Bourbons, who had come 
back to France in the train of Austria; and, 
in truth, for a time he seemed as if he were 
fulfilling his father's prediction. 

So indignant was Victor Hugo at the in- 
sult offered to the valiant marshals that, for 
the moment, he appeared to be altered into 
another man. Regardless of any animosity 
that might be stirred up against himself 
)jy his own party, he denounced without 
mercy the intruders into his countrj', thus 
causing himself not only to be forsaken, 
but traduced, by the royalists, and at this 
critical hour doubling the number of his 
enemies. 



.' ] 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



79- 



CPIAPTER XI. 

Le C^ni^cle. — Appearance of Saiute-Beuve. — M. Taylor. — A Conversation with Talma. — "Cromwell."— Pi'ef- 
ace to the Worlc— Opposition Provoked. — Analysis by the Author Various Opinions. — Death of Ma- 
dame Fonclier.— Marriage of Abel Hugo.— Death of General Hugo. — "Amy Robsart." 



Among the leading critics wlio reviewed 
Victor Hugo's worlis at tlie latter period of 
the Restoration was Sainte-Beuve. His ar- 
ticles upon the productions of the new 
school brought him into notice and obtained 
for him an admittance into the Cenacle, a 
name given by the more zealous romantics 
to a club that they had established, of which 
the author of the "Odes et Ballades "was 
the ruling spirit. 

In their enthusiasm the members of the 
Cenacle looked upon themselves as ordain- 
ed apostles of the new art. Their efforts 
were originally centred upon a magazine 
which they started, called La Muse Fraii- 
(;aise, and they held frequent meetings, the 
society including Alfred de Vigny, Jules do 
Resseguier, Emile and Antony Deschamps, 
Ulrich Guttinger, and about twenty others. 
The members called one another by their 
Christian names. In the winter they met at 
each other's houses to read verses, and in 
the summer they turned out in a bodj' for 
walks in the country, occasionally mounting 
the towers of Notre Dame to admire the sun- 
set and to watch the parting glow of day- 
light vanish in the waters of the Seine. 

After the fall of Chateaubriand, the Cena- 
cle was virtually broken up. Some of the 
members, however, persevered in holding 
their meetings until the time when the ro- 
mantics claimed an undisputed victory, and 
Victor Hugo devoted himself to theatrical 
labors. Although it had but a transitory 
existence, the society was like a beautiful 
morning dawn; its atmosphere was all-radi- 
ant with the ardent generosity of youth. 

In his "Portraits Contemporains " Sainte- 
Beuve has referred to the charming visions 
and the fruitful labor of that happy time; 
and in his "Joseph Delorme" he has dedi- 
cated some laudatory verses to the young 
associates of the club, the general tone of 
which may be conjectured from the con- 
cluding lines, which run something in the 
following strain: 



"Both good and great they were, from jealous pas- 
sion free ; 
Nor suffered that the honey of their verse should be 

Barbed with an angry sting; 
Though high as zenith-sun their fame, and all 

ablaze, 
It ne'er was known to burn with scorching raya 
The tiniest flower of spring." 

Previously to his rushing into the agita- 
tion of the romantic fray, Sainte-Beuve, a 
critic at the beginning as well as at the end 
of his career, had written a very qualified re- 
view of the "Odes et Ballades." While he 
allowed that the author's imagination was of 
a first-class order, uniformly deep and true, 
he expressed his regret at the frequency 
with which he had introduced exaggerated 
similes, prosaic incidents, and over-minute 
analysis into the most brilliant periods of 
Ills verse. 

Victor Hugo, always ready to acknowl- 
edge that whatever he wrote was open to 
criticism, felt no annoyance at the review, 
but, on the contrary, soon found himself on 
very friendly terms with the young review- 
er, though the friendship was of short dura- 
tion. 

The details of the commencement of this 
amicable intimacy tire related in a letter 
written by Sainte-Beuve towards the end 
of his life, and which has not been gener- 
ally circulated. He writes ; 

' ' I knew Victor Hugo before the publica- 
tion of 'Les Orientates.' In 1826 and 1837 
I was critic to the Globe, then under the edi- 
torship of M. Dubois. 'Without knowing 
anything whatever of the author of the 
' Odes et Ballades ' beyond his name, I was 
instructed to write a review of his publica- 
tion. This I did in two successive articles. 
Victor Hugo called to thank me. It turned 
out that, without knowing it, we had been . 
almost next-door neighbors, he living at 90 
and I at 94 in the Rue de Vaugirard. I was 
not at home when he left his card, but 1 re- 
turned his call on the following day, and we 
soon became acquainted. I confided to his 



80 



'VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



ears some verses which I had composed, but 
•vvhich I had hitherto kept a secret, feeling 
that the Olobe was rather an organ for criti- 
cism than for the publication of original po- 
etrJ^ We were all very formal then ; and I 
was formal too; for all the world I would 
not have chosen to be introduced to an au- 
thor whose works I should have to review. 
At that time I was every inch a critic ; subse- 
ciuently there came the period when the fac- 
ulty was suspended and forgotten." 

This last avowal of Sainte-Beuve's is worth 
observing. He did indeed enter enthusias- 
tically into the romantic movement, and, 
having embraced the cause, exhibited him- 
self as a most ardent disciple, outrunning his 
master and exaggerating his style. But at a 
later date he changed his mind: he burned 
the idol he had worshipped, and, by way of 
excuse for having joined Victor Hugo's par- 
ty, protested with an intolerable vanity that 
he had only made a pretence of belonging to 
its ranks. 

The occasion will subsequently occur on 
which we shall be called upon to pass a se- 
vere judgment not so much on Sainte- 
Beuve's apostasy from the cause of Romanti- 
cism which he had espoused, as upon the 
odious ingratitude of the man who, in 1837, 
after making Victor Hugo's acquaintance, 
sought his friendship and advice, and read to 
him both " Joseph Delorme " and the " Con- 
solations." 

About this date it was that Victor Hugo 
first began to turn his serious attention to 
the stage. Reform in poetry might be said 
to be all but achieved, but refoim in the 
drama had yet to be accomplished. 

M. Taylor was then royal commissioner at 
the Comedie Frangaise. He had former- 
ly been aide-de-camp to General d'Orsay, 
and had retired with the rank of major. 
From that time until the end of his long and 
noble career he devoted himself with all the 
ardor of his energetic nature to the cause of 
art. Familiarized with the freedom of Eng- 
lish literature, his mind was too independent 
to submit to routine, and, possessing large 
ideas, he maintained strict impartiality in lit- 
erary pursuits, and to him is due the honor 
of having procured the admission of the ro- 
mantics to the stage. He inquired of Victor 
Hugo why he had not given his attention to 
play- writing. The poet's answer was ready ; 
' ' I have already commenced a drama upon 
Cromwell." 

The only performer who was capable at 



that date of representing Cromwell was Tal- 
ma. M. Taylor lost no time in inviting him 
to meet Hugo at dinner, and the poet and 
the actor had a long conversation together. 

Talma was now approaching the limit of 
his fine career, but was full of bitter com- 
plaints of his profession. Though he could 
not withhold a certain measure of admira- 
tion for the style of tragedy in which he had 
made his reputation, he had always longed 
for more reality to be combined with the 
wonted dignity and decorum of the parts he 
had to plajr. He had conceptions of kings 
who should be human as well as regal; he 
yearned to express emotions that were natu- 
ral rather than strained ; he wanted new sub- 
jects, but when he asked for Shakespeare 
they gave him Duels, and left him no me- 
dium for gratifying his realism beyond what 
he could invent in his costumes ! 

He proceeded to expatiate on his position: 

' ' No one knows what I .should have been 
if only I had come across the author for 
whom I have been looking. Without his 
role an actor is nothing. I shall go to my 
grave without acting as my soul would 
prompt me to act. M. Hugo, you are young, 
you are enterprising; surely you could de- 
vise a character adapted to my faculty. Tay- 
lor tells me you are writing a ' Cromwell. ' 
Cromwell is a part that I have ever longed 
to play. Tell me what your piece is like. 
I am sure beforehand that it is out of the old 
routine." 

" I should imagine," replied Victor Hugo, 
' ' that the part that you are longing to play 
is precisely what I am longing to write." 

And the poet proceeded to propound to 
the tragedian the ideas that he afterwards 
expanded in the preface to the play. 

He said that he intended to claim for an 
author the right to submit to no other rule 
than that of his own imagination, and to 
survey everything from his own point of 
view. "• 

"There are three epochs in poetry," he as- 
serted, ' ' each corresponding to an era in so- 
ciety : these are the ode, the epic, and the 
drama. Primitive ages are the lyric, ancient 
times the heroic, and modern times the dra- 
matic. The ode sings of eternity, the epic 
records history, the drama depicts life. The 
characteristic of the first is' iidimte, of the 
second simplicity, of the last truth. The 
rhapsodists mark the transition from the lyric 
to the epic, as the romancists make the change 
from the epic to the dramatic. Historians 
\ \ -5 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



81. 



begin to exist in tlie second epocli, critics and 
essayists come to light witli tlie tliird. The 
characters of the ode are colossal — Adam, 
Cain, Noah ; those of the epic are gigantic — 
Achilles, Atreus, Orestes; those of the drama 
are human — Hamlet, Othello, Macbeth. The 
ode contemplates the ideal; the epic the sub- 
lime; the drama the real. And, to sum up 
the whole, this poetical triad emanates from 
three fountain-heads — the Bible, Homer, and 
Shakespeare. 

" Society, in fact, begins by singing of what 
it has dreamed, then proceeds to recount what 
it has done, and fiuall}' begins to paint what 
it has felt. 

' ' The poetry of our own time, therefore, is 
the drama, of which reality is the essential 
characteristic, and this reality is the resultant 
of two types, the sul^lime and grotesque, which 
are there combined as they are in creation 
and in common life. Poetry, to be true, should 
consist in the harmony of contrasts, and every- 
thing that exists in nature should exist in art. " 
^"""^y^Vih. much elegance and perspicuity Vic- 
tor Hugo enlarged upon these points. Talma 
was delighted, nor did his ecstasy diminish 
when he listened to the various quotations 
from the unfinished play which were read to 
him. He promised to undertake the chief 
character; but he died a few months before 
the drama was completed. 

Thus left without the interpreter on whom 
he had reckoned, Victor Hugo extended the 
piece to seven thousand verses, making it of 
a length which precluded its representation 
on the stage, but giving him scoiie to work 
out a full and elaborate study of one of the 
grandest characters in history. 

Alphonse Esquiros has remarked upon this 
point that we seem to be made to penetrate 
into Cromwell's inmost soul ; we spy out 
every idea that crosses the brain of the pro- 
tector of the English commonwealth — that 
strange genius, that curious mixture of mag- 
nanimity and meanness, of love of despotism 
and love of liberty, of faith and hypocrisy; 
we can hear him pray, or laugh, or dictate a 
death-warrant ; we can probe his bleeding 
heart-wounds, and in this gi-eat stroke of a 
master-hand we may see before us — • 

" Cromwell an Attila Ijy Machiavelli made !" 

It is thus that the power of dramatic genius 
reanimates the form of the departed hero ; it 
initiates the multitude into the secrets of a 
heart that had great aspirations; it explores 
a human soul so as to lay bare its passions in 
6 



such a way as to render them a prolific and 
attractive source of edification. 

An analysis of the work has been made by 
Victor Hugo himself, who has represented its 
design in the following terms : 

"There is one special period in Cromwell's 
hfe at which all the variety of the phases of 
his wonderful character might almost be said 
to exhibit themselves at once. That period 
is not, as might be at first imagined, the trial 
of Charles I., full of terrible interest though 
that crisis was ; but it is the period when his 
ambition made him eager to realize the bene- 
fits of the king's death, when having attained 
what any other man would have reckoned 
the summit of fortune, being not only mas- 
ter of England, but by his army, his navy, 
and his diplomacy master of Europe too, he 
was urged onwards to fulfil the visions of his 
youth, and to make himself a king. Never 
has history veiled a loftier lesson under a 
loftier drama. In the earliest stage he causes 
himself to be solicited to come forward; the 
scene commences with addresses by corpo- 
rations, by cities, by counties; these are fol- 
lowed by a bill in Parhament, Cromwell all 
the while, though the author of the plot, ap- 
pearing dissatisfied with what is being done. 
We see him hold out his hand for the sceptre 
and then withdraw it; we see him, as it were, 
wriggling sideways towards the steps of the 
throne from which he has just displaced the 
representative of the established dynasty. 
But at length he comes aljruptly to a de- 
cision; Westminster is decked with flags at 
his command; the platform is erected; the 
crown ordered from the goldsmith; the day 
of coronation is fixed. But then comes a 
strange denouement! On that very day, and 
on that very platform in Westminster Hall 
from which he had resolved that, in the pres- 
ence of the people, the soldiers, and the Com- 
mons, he would descend a king, he wakes all 
of a sudden, as it were out of a sleep. All at 
once he has become alive to the true mean- 
ing of a crown: he asks what the formality 
implies ; he asks whether he has been dream- 
ing; and, finally, after agitating the question 
for three hours, comes to the determination 
not to assume the regal dignity. 

' ' Whence the hesitation ? Why this change ? 
No contemporary document solves the mys- 
tery; but so much the better for the poet, 
whose liberty is more complete, and who is 
left to give his drama the latitude which his- 
tory does not refuse. The scene is unique, 
it is the great turning-point of Cromwell's 



82 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



life, it is the moment when his chimera es- 
capes him, when his present demolishes his 
future, and, to use an expressive phrase, his 
destiny turns out ' a flash in the pan.' 

"Cromwell's entire soul is at work in the 
great comedy that is played out between Eng- 
land and himself. Such is the man and such 
the period that this drama aspires to depict." 
The piece was published at the end of 1837. 
The preface, however, attracted more atten- 
tion and excited more discussion than the 
poem; it started a species of poetry that was 
altogether new in its form, so that its produc- 
tion may be reckoned as one of the greatest 
literary events of the time. 

Not that the poem itself was at aU wanting 
in boldness and originality; it contains many 
beauties, and the verses offer very fine ex- 
amples of the sense of one line being in- 
volved and completed in the next ; but the 
preface was nothing less than a startling 
manifesto, in which the rules of the rising 
modern style of dramatic art are exhibited 
in a way which one of the classic critics de- 
scribes as " pitiless." 

In thus making a statement of his princi- 
ples, Victor Hugo offers himself as a cham- 
pion of his cause, and, by arguments as solid 
as they are brilliant, overturns the frame- 
work of, the system which would detain 
every line of thought in one uniform mould. 

The point upon which he takes his stand 
as a reformer is this : the drama is a mirror 
in which all nature is reflected, a glass from 
which must be thrown back upon the vision 
everything which has had its existence in 
history, in life, or in man. 

Art, as it were with a magic wand, turns 
over the pages of centuries and of nature, 
consults chronicles, and studies to reproduce 
the reality of facts, especially the reality of 
manners and of character. Nothing should 
be neglected or forgotten. 

From beginning to end the programme is 
traced with the vigor that was already char- 
acteristic of the powerful intellect of the 
young master-mind, and it is instructive to 
remark that it comprises all the theories that 
have since been claimed as inventions by 
those who profess to be leaders of the real- 
istic school. (Victor Hugo desired that no- 
tice should be taken not only of the beautiful, 
but also of the ordinary and the trivial, every 
figure being restored to its salient trait of in- 
dividuality. 'N As we have said, the naturalists 
made discovery of nothing; they simply re- 
peated that which since 1830 has been ac- 



cepted as a recognized rule, an author's right, 
and so without any adequate reason they 
have occupied the attention of the world with 
a dispute as futile in its issue as it was up- 
roarious in the mode in which it was carried 
on. 

^Long before the time of these wrangling 
contenders, the true leader of the romantic 
school was writing that the proper mission 
of the drama and of the dramatist was to rep- 
resent natwre; Cromwell should be allowed 
to retain his grotesqueness, Henry IV. should 
still utter his oaths; the touches of weakness 
in the hero, and the glimpses of humanity in 
the tyrant, should be portrayed with' fidelity; 
tears should be mingled with smiles; the 
hideous placed side by side with the grace- 
ful; the spiritual brought into contact with, 
the brutal, and this solely because truth de-, 
mands it. ) 

Nor was this all. In his famous preface, 
Victor Hugo goes on to say that a language 
can never be at a standstill, a rule to which 
the French is no exception. He writes : 

"The language of Montaigne is no longer 
the language of Babelais, as that of Pascal 
is not the language of Montaigne, nor that, 
of Montesquieu, again, the language of Pascal. 
Individually, as being original, each is to be 
admired; every epoch, as having its own 
ideas, necessarily has its own words to rep- 
resent them. . . . Our literary Joshuas may 
call upon language to stay its course, but 
language will now no more than the sun be 
arrested on its way. When languages stop, 
they die. A writer, then, may safely invent 
his own style; he has the right to do so, but 
only on one condition — ^he must write well, 
for Racine contains Vaugelas." 

He claims the same liberty for verse as he 
does for prose. To Corneille, to Racine, to 
MoliSre, and to all the master-minds of the 
past whose names were brought up against 
him, he paid the most respectful homag§|| 
they were all great poets, being, as Theodore 
de Banville has rightly designated them, giants 
of superhuman strength; but it was by genius, 
and not by art, that they produced their im- 
mortal chefs-ffcEMwe, for "so far as it was 
known to them, the art of versification was 
so utterly bad that, after having hampered 
and perplexed them all the days of their life, 
it was never of any service whatever to their 
successors; while, thanks to Victor Hugo and 
his disciples, the instrument that we have now 
at our disposal is so excellent that the most 
illiterate, when once he has learned its use. 




OLIVEK CKOMWELL. 



84 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



becomes capable of composing verses that 
should be fairly good."* 
( Finally, the preface to "Cromwell" repudi- 
ates two out of the three unities consecrated 
by the classics: it rejects the unity of place, 
as being absurd and in contrariety to what is 
probable; and it discards the unity of time, 
as being ludicrous because it limits an action 
to a period of twenty-four hours. One unity 
alone is recognized — the unity of action — ex- 
cluding the other two simply because neither 
the eye nor the mind can properly take in 
more than one idea at a time. The same 
theory was held by Goethe, who acknowl- 
edged only the unity of comprehensiveness, 
"das Fassliche." 

In an article devoted to the manifesto in 
the Betme de Paris, Charles Nodier writes: 

" Since liberty is recognized as an almost 
universal benefit, it would be extraordinary 
if liberty were to be withheld from the im- 
agination, that very one of our faculties which 
it affects the most." 

It can hardly be imagined now what bit- 
terness and polemical spite were aroused by 
these assertions, which looked like attempts 
to overturn a fabric that had been deemed 
eternal. A volume might be filled with the 
mere catalogue of the pamphlets and feuille- 
tons by which the revolutionist was assailed. 
Never did malice and vituperation find a 
more open field. 

"These fanciful whims," patronizingly 
wrote the Gazette de Prance, "have no stable 
basis ; they have indeed a ludicrous side which 
might be amusing if only they had any talent 
to back them : but to fight with giant's strength 
is indispensable ; and when an attempt is made 
to dethrone writers that entire generations 
have agreed to admire, the attack ought to 
be made with weapons which, if not equal, 
ought, at least to be sufficiently good, and to 
be wielded with intelligence and not in im- 
potence. What harm can be feared from 
any who write like tlie autlwr of the preface 
that we are reviewing?" This concluding 
sentence suffices to exhibit the rage and ran- 
cor of the classics. 

Victor Hugo had to stand against a perfect 
storm of such banter and sarcasm ; but vehe- 
ment as was the assault, he was quite capable 
of making a vigorous defence. 

In the Globe, a journal of moderate views, 
and the tone of which was then regarded as 
the "juste milieu," M. de Remusat wrote a 

■* Bnnville, "Trnit6 de Po^sie Fraiipaise." 



very judicious article, in which he repeated 
Voltaire's opinion that the dispute between 
the ancient and the modem is a question still 
pending. Other newspapers, more coura- 
geous still, openly expressed their enthusiasm, 
and the preface to "Cromwell" became a 
sort of watchword for the young men of the 
day. 

Theophile Gautier, who had not yet allied 
himself to the romantic party, was furious 
when he read the vindictive abuse in the 
small classical journals. To his eye and to 
that of his associates the preface appeared to 
stand with an authority as supreme as the 
Decalogue, and its enactments to admit of no 
reply. 

These few instances may serve to give an 
idea of the sensation produced by the work. 
It was published by Ambroise Dupont, and 
had this dedication: 

" To my father: as the book to him is ded- 
icated, so to him is the author devoted." 

General Hugo had left Blois, the town of 
picturesque old mansions that Victor had de- 
lighted to sketch, and, having been restored 
by the existing government to his proper 
rank and honors, was now residing In Paris. 
He had married again, as already said, and, 
after coming to Paris to be present at the 
marriage of his son Abel with Mile. Julie de 
Monf errier, he had made up his mind to re- 
main for some time and enjoy the society of 
his children and grandchildren. 

Besides his daughter, Leopoldine, Victor 
Hugo had now a son, Charles; and a third 
child, Victor Francois, was born shortly af- 
terwards. The general took apartments quite 
near the young children, so that he might see 
them every day. 

But his enjoyment was very brief. On the 
38th of January, 1838, Victor, after dining 
with his father, was called up in the middle 
of the night only to find that the general had 
succumbed to a fit of apoplexy. Madame 
Foucher had died only a few months before; 
so that sorrow seemed, as ever, to be an at- 
tendant upon all the poet's seasons of rejoic- 
ing. 

The general, as we have said, besides being 
a distinguished soldier, was a military author 
of no inconsiderable repute. In addition to 
his historical journal of the blockade of Thi- 
onville, he left a treatise on the means of sup- 
plying the place of negro slaves by free la- 
borers. He likewise wrote two volumes of 
memoirs that are still used as books of refer- 
ence, and which, according to Michaud, are 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



85 



put together with much clearness and preci- 
sion, and contain many minute details con- 
nected with La Vendee, Naples, and more 
particularly Spain. To these must be added 
a romance called "L'Avonture Tyrolicnne," 



With reference to this work on fortifica- 
tion, it is said that a foreign government, 
having been apprised of its importance and 
merits, offered the general a considerable sum 
for the copyright, but he indignantly rejected 




AN OLD HOUSE IN BLOIS. 
{From a drawing; hy Victor Hugo.) 



which he published under the nont de plume 
of Sigisbert; and, finally, he composed an 
elaborate treatise upon fortified places, the 
compilation of which occupied a great deal 
of his time. 



the proposal. The manuscript, by the desire 
of the French government, was handed over 
to their keeping, but by some mismanagement 
of the administration it remained buried in 
some forgotten portfolio, the general being 



80 



viGTon Huao and ma time. 



too magnanimous ever to make any com- 
plaint of tlie neglect. 

The death of his father was a great grief 
to the poet: he mourned for him sincere!}', 
and sought for solace by renewed application 
to work. 

Before resuming the story of Victor Hugo's 
conflicts, we should not omit to mention that 
a piece which he had written in conjunction 
with Soumet was loudly hissed at the Odeon. 
It was founded on Sir Walter Scott's " Ken- 
ilworlh," and was named "Amy Kob.sart." 
Of this drama, the first three acts had been 
wi-itten by Victor Hugo when he was only 
nineteen. Upon his showing them to Soumet, 
he found that they did not meet with his ap- 
proval, and he gave Soumet permission to 
alter them and finish them in his own way, 
bestowing no more pains upon the piece him- 
self until the success of Shakespeare, as per- 



formed in Paris, put it into the mind of his 
brother-in-law, M. Paul Fouoher, that a play 
combining comedy and tragedy might prove 
acceptable to the public. 

It was these representations of Shakespeare 
that had induced Victor Hugo to put forth 
many of the statements in his preface to 
" Cromwell;" and in the strength of his con- 
victions he handed over his "Amy Robsart" 
to his brother-in-law, Paul Foucher, as an ex- 
periment. Foucher produced the piece in his 
own name; but wheu it proved so complete 
a failure, Victor Hugo at once came forward 
and avowed his own share in the production, 
taking the responsibility of the non-success. 

"Amy Robsart " was, however, never pub- 
lished among the poet's works. Victor Hugo 
gave the manuscript to Alexandre Dumas, 
who had it for a long time in his posses- 
,sion. 




VIGTOli HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



87 



CHAPTER XII. 

•Conception of a Great Work.— Time Occupied in Wiiting "Marion Delorme."— Reading at Deveria's House. 

— Sensibility of Alexandre Dumas Didier's Forgiveness. — Anecdote of limile Deschamps.— Competition 

of Theatrical Managers.— Censorship of Charles X.— A Koyal Audience.— Prohil)ition without Appeal.— 

Tlie King Offers Compensation Refusal of the Pension.— M. Taylor's Perplexity — "Hernani."— Report 

of the Censors. — Mile. Mars at Rehearsal. 



Maintaining, as he was always prepared 
to do most tliorougUy, that an author should 
remedy the production of a work that proved 
;i failure by the production of another work 
and a better, Victor Hugo applied himself to 
the composition of "Marion Delorme." 

This drama was preceded in its issue by 
two other important works — "Les Orien- 
tales" and "Le Dernier Jour d'un Condam- 
ne." Of these we shall have to speak later 
on, but meanwhile must diverge a little from 
the chronological order of the poet's produc- 
tions, that we may dwell upon his experi- 
ences as a dramatist. 

Thanks to the liberal influence of M. Taj^- 
lor, a bold experiment had been made at the 
Theatre Fran^ais in the beginning of 1829, 
and "Henry III., "the fine "romantic" drama 
by Alexandre Dumas, had been produced 
with considerable success. It was at its first 
performance that its distinguished author first 
made the acquaintance of Alfred de Vigny 
and Victor Hugo. Victor, encouraged by 
the success of the play, turned to its fortu- 
nate writer and said, 

"Now it is my turn!" 

Immediately, from among the various his- 
torical figures with which his mind and im-. 
agination were stored, he chose the charac- 
ter of Marion Delorme, and henceforth lived 
a while with her image ever in his fancy, 
and creating the characters with which to 
surround her. 

This mode of operation is peculiar to great 
artists ; they do not take up their pen or pen- 
cil until the persons that they are about to 
call into being have assumed a definite shape. 
As Minerva emerged armed from the head 
of Jupiter, so do the heroic offspring of the 
poets, with all their passions, virtues, and 
vices fully developed, leap forth direcL from 
the author's brain. 

No important work of Victor Hugo's has 
ever been written without much prelimina- 
ry thought. The manuscripts of his finest 



verses and most striking scenes exhibit hardly 
a sign of erasure or correction. Obedient to 
the creative faculty of the master, the hand 
moves easily and speedily across the paper. 

On the 1st of June, 1839, rather more than 
four months after the first appearance of 
"Henry III.," he considered himself ready 
to commence writing "Marion Delorme." 
He set to work assiduously, and by the 19tli 
he had finished the first three acts; on the 
20th he began the fourth, at which he worked 
unremittingly for twenty-four hours without 
taking either food or sleep. On the 24th 
the pliiy was complete, except that it received 
a few tinishing-touches until the 27th. 

Having composed his " Cromwell " in such 
a style that it was impossible for it to be rep- 
resented on the stage, he was very anxious 
now to construct a drama suitable for per- 
formance. The report of what he had done 
was soon circulated; and he agreed, though 
not altogether without hesitation, to give a 
reading of his drama at Deveria's house. 

Every star in the literary Pleiad burned to 
be present; accordingly the assemblage on 
the occasion was very large, including Tay- 
lor, De Vigny, fimile Deschamps, Sainte- ' 
Beuve, Soumet, Boulanger, Beauchesne, Al- 
exandre Dumas, Balzac, Eugfene Delacroix, 
Alfred de Musset, Madame Tastu,VilIemain, 
Merimee, Frederic Soulie, and several others. 

The piece, to which he originally gave the 
name "Un Duel sous Richelieu," was much 
applauded, and Victor Hugo was more grati- 
fied than if he had had an audience of kings. 

Dumas, ever free from envy, manifested the 
greatest enthusiasm. He afterwards wrote : 

"I listened with admiration the most in- 
tense, but yet an admiration that was tinged 
with sadness, for I felt that I could never at- 
tain to such a powerful style. ... I was sit- 
ting near Taylor; at the conclusion of the 
reading he turned and asked me my opinion, 
and I told him that I should be much mista- 
ken if it did not prove one of Victor's finest 



88 



VICTOR HUaO AND HIti TIME. 



compositions. It exhibited all the qualities 
of a matured mind, and none of the faults 
of youth. ... I congratulated Hugo very 
heartily, telling him that I, deficient in style 
as I was, had been quite overwhelmed by the 
magnificence of his; and if I could have at- 
tained to his style by the sacrifice of ten 
years of my hfe, I would willingly have made 
the surrender." 




There was, however, one point in the plot 
that was no small grievance to the amiable 
Dumas; he could not feel satisfied that Didier 
met his death without forgiving Marion. Me- 
rimee and Sainte-Beuvc joined with him in 
requesting that the restored courtesan might 
receive pardon, and Hugo acceded to their 
request. 

One is almost tempted to call it an unfort- 
unate alteration, the original idea being so 
much the more powerful as well as the more 
logical. The love that is deep and sincere 
may pardon the ofEending objects upon which 
it has been lavished, but it cannot reinstate 
them; the only pretext that Didier has for 
the kind of forgiveness that he bestows is that 
he is on the point of death. He knows well 
enough that it would be impossible for him 
to live again with her who, in two lines, af- 
terwards suppressed for fear of shocking the 
public modesty, says that she is ready — 

" . . . . free to leave my naked breast 
On which whoe'er first comes au hour may rest." 



He knows it would be impossible for one 
bearing the honored name of Didier to love 
a woman so degraded and so debased ; and 
he knows, moreover, that the courtesan is 
false to herself when she exflaims, 

" For me to be again impure, that could not be 1 
Nay, though thy very life depended upon me. 
No, Didier, uo ! thy quiclc'ning breath once more 
Doth all my first and fresh virginity restore." 

It might be true that, in the agitating hour 
when she was about to be parted from a be- 
ing that she passionately loved, she would 
persuade herself that she felt like this; but 
it is, after all, a mere delusion, and the empty 
vision of desperation. 

The poet was quite justified in complaining 
that these four lines, as well as the other 
two, had to be sacrificed to the susceptibility 
of th'e least respectable portion of the pub- 
lic, who ought to have been impressed by 
their artistic purity, and to have been capa- 
ble of listening to chaste words with chaste 
ears; he was bound to write what he felt 
Marion, in the madness of her passion, would 
have thought; he had no alternative but to 
make his language an echo of his concep- 
tions. Genius may claim its own rights. 

According to M. Auguste Vacquerie, Mar- 
ion has come across an honorable man who 
is seeking a paragon of a woman, and she 
generously undertakes to find him what he 
wants. So far, so good. But as the attempt 
proves a failure, Didier would have been a 
grander character if he had remained inflex- 
ible. It is only the scaffold before him that 
can account for his clemency; and if he 
could escape that, what could possibly hap- 
pen next? 

Penitence can never restore the fallen to a 
condition of equality with the unf alien; it 
cannot bring back forfeited innocence. No 
insult should be offered to fallen women; 
but they must not be placed on the same 
level with those who have never lost their 
honor, nor should their eyes be dazzled by 
the hope of any possible recompense for their 
shame, i 

Had Marion, in spite of her heroism and 
her repentance, been adequately cltastised for 
her lapse from virtue, probably much of the 
sentimentality would have been avoided, 
which, although now exploded, at the time 
caused a great depravity of taste, and invest- 
ed the "Dames aux Camellias" and the 
"Mimis" of Bohemian life with an interest 
that they did not deserve. 

The sensation produced by the reading of 




DIDIEK m "MARION DELOBME. 



so 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIM^. 



"Marion Delorme" soon spread through 
Paris. The members of the Cenaole express- 
ed an almost unqualified admiration ^of it 
wherever they went. One evening, as Emile 
Deschamps was passing the Theatre Fran- 
9ais, he saw that " Britannicus " was an- 
nounced; he shrugged his shoulders and 
said, "Can they not perform something bet- 
ter than this ?" 

After the reading of his drama, theatrical 
managers flocked to the young poet's house. 
The first to arrive was M. Harel, manager of 
the Odeon. Catching sight of the manu- 
scrijjt as he entered, he took up a pen and 
wrote across its front page, ' ' Accepted at 
the Theatre de I'Odeon, July 14, 1839." Vic- 
tor Hugo meanwhile came in and informed 
him that the piece had been already pledged 
to M. Taylor for the Comedie Fran^aise, and 
that the character of Marion was to be un- 
dertaken by Mile. Mars. Harel left the 
house, but not without insisting upon his 
own claim to the work. 

Two days later, M. Crosnier, the general 
superintendent of the Porte - Saint - Martin, 
called upon him as the representative of the 
proprietor.M.Jouslin de Lassalle. Introduced 
to him in the salon, and never suspecting 
that the beardless young man was the au- 
thor of whom so much had been said for 
years, he asked him whether he could speak 
to his father. Victor replied that his father 
had died about a year ago, but at the same 
time he had no doubt that the visit was in- 
tended for himself. 

M. Crosnier stammered out his apologies, 
and proceeded to explain that he had come 
to bespeak "Marion Delorme " for the Porte- 
Saint - Martin. Victor Hugo smiled, and 
handed him the manuscript, to show that 
Harel had already been before him, and that 
even Harel had come too late. 

"Oh, that's all nonsense!" rejoined Cros- 
nier ; " you can never tell beforehand where 
any piece will be performed. Permit me, if 
you please, to write my claim below Harel's, 
and perhaps, after all, it may turn out that 
the third comer is the luckiest of all." 

The signature was made, and subsequent 
events proved the truth of liis prognostica- 
tions. Two years later Crosnier brought 
out "Marion Delorme" upon his stage. 

Nothing could be more enthusiastic than 
the reception of "Marion" by the company 
of the Comedie Fran^aise ; and in the course 
of the summer the rehearsals were com- 
menced. Mile. Mars undertook the role of 



the heroine, Firmin that of Didier, and Joan- 
ny became responsible for Nangis and Men- 
jaud. Hardly, however, had the arrange- 
ments been made and the scenery completed 
when a rumor arose that the censorship was 
about to interfere and oppose the representa- 
tion. 

Ever cringing to the power which main- 
tained them in their useless oflBce, the cen- 
sors alleged as a reason for their veto that, in 
the fourth act of the play, Louis XIII. was 
represented as a ridiculously weak prince, as 
cruel as he was superstitious, and that they 
considered such a character might provoke 
public malevolence and lead to a disparage- 
ment of his Majesty Charles X. 

M. Taylor, who was long accustomed to 
the absurd i)roceedings of the censors, had 
already guessed what would occur, hut the 
poet had properly refused to alter an histori- 
cal delineation that was not only accurately 
true, but on which he had bestowed such 
especial care. 

Knowing how it had happened more than 
once, that by taking vigorous action mana- 
gers and authors had contrived to elude the 
talons of the censorship, and recalling the 
circumstance that Dumas' "Henri III. "had 
finally been sanctioned after having been 
first prohibited, Victor Hugo determined to 
go and see M. de Martignac. This minister, 
whose "liberal" tendencies were hurrying 
on his downfall, was considered a friend of 
letters and an independent statesman; he 
had been associated with Scribe and Casi- 
mir Delavigne, but did not see his way to 
entertain any views a,t all in advance of 
tlieirs. 

He gave the author of "Marion Delorme" 
a very frigid reception, and maintained the 
fiat of prohibition. The matter, he insist- 
ed, concerned an ancestor of the king, and 
none but the king was entitled to give a 
judgment in the case. 

Pressed by M. Taylor to urge the request, 
Victor Hugo asked for a royal audience. Ac- 
cording to the indispensable rule, he dressed 
himself in a court-suit, put on a sword, and 
thus prepared to appear in the presence of 
Charles. 

After a long wait in the anteroom at St. 
Cloud, he was conducted into the audience- 
chamber, and entered into explanations with 
the king, telling him, as he had told every 
one else, that it v^as from a purely artistic 
point of view he had endeavored to depict 
Louis XIII., and that his representation 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



91 



could not in any way concern that mon- 
arch's descendants. 

Charles X. was at this time mainly con- 
sulting his own liberty by sternly repressing 
liberty, and was about displacing Martignac 
and confiding the fate of tlie throne to 
Poliguac of mournful memory, and did 
not conceal his sentiments from the young 
poet. 

Victor Hugo, in some well-known verses 
that were published subsequently, has him- 
self described the interview and criticised 
the motives, alike literary and political, that 
led to his application being refused without 
power of appeal : 

"And, curious, seek yon now to know the thing 
Debuted thus between the poet and decrepit king? 
Their conversation on a contrite Magdalen falls 
Whose chastened love her former pnrity recalls ; 
Shall Marion still her degradation feel 
Becanse a censor's serpent -tongue hath bit her 
heel?" 

The king hesitated, and, without alluding 
to the moral aspect of the drama, turned his 
observations to its political bearing, and ex- 
pressed his intention not to allow his dead 
ancestors to be disturbed in their tomb, con- 
fessing his fear that 

"ForHi from the drama's scenes, 
As from a sepulchre, the lurid spark might break. 
And all the lire of revolution's storm awake." 

He went on to avow his conviction that 
there was far too much liberty everywhere 
and in everything, and protested that 

"For fifteen years the dangerous flood has hold its 
way ; 
Now must the dike be reared, the dangerous flood 
to stay !" 

The poet, as a prophetic monitor, warned 
him how 

*' The swelling wave of time resistless ever rolls. 
Nor bridge, nor dike, nor dam its onward rush con- 
trols; 
He, He alone, who can the raging ocean bind 
Can check the mighty progress ota people's mind." 

But the poet warned him in vain; and 
just as vainly did he remind the monarch 
how, under Louis XIV., Racine was happy, 
and Moliere was free ; yet all to no pur- 
pose. Charles X. had amved at that time of 
life when he could listen neither to counsel 
nor to warning. Still, he made an effort to 
be gracious ; he made an apology for what he 
was doing, even while he persisted in pro- 
hibiting the piece from being performed dur- 
ing his reign. 

Anxious, however, to conciliate the author 
and to make some sort of compensation, the 



king proposed to raise his pension from 2000 
to 6000 francs. The poet, with prompt de- 
cision, declined the offer. 

This refusal on the part of Victor Hugo of 
course immediately aroused the wrath of the 
ministerial journals, all of them being ex- 
ceedingly indignant that a man of letters 
should have the conceit and audacity to 
splirn a present offered by a sovereign's 
hand. The opposition papers, on the other 
hand, highly applauded the poet's determina- 
tion, and some of the disciples of Romanti- 
cism paid him the compliment of celebrating 
his magnanimity in verse. 

Many of Victor Hugo's friends employed 
their talent in singing of his future glory; 
and although this nineteenth century has 
suffered their names and their works to be 
forgotten, there are not a few of their pro- 
ductions which really deserve to be read and 
remembered. Such are the names of Ernest 
Fouiuet, Dovalle, Regnier Destourbet, Jean 
Polonius, Ulric Guttinger, Drouineau, Theo- 
dore Carlicr, Jules do Saint-Felix, and Ar- 
vers, whose magnificent sonnet survives the 
general oblivion. Besides these, some men- 
tion ought to be made of Fontauey, who, on 
the 19lh of August, 1839, addressed a sonnet 
to Victor Hugo on the suljject of the reject- 
ed pension, which long enjoyed much popu- 
larity, as being one of the most perfect ex- 
amples of the poetical renaissance. It was 
found on the margin of the famous Ronsard 
Allium, dedicated by Sainte-Beuve to the au- 
thor of the " Odes et Ballades." 

No tribute of admiration, however, from 
brother poets, and no congratulations from 
the literary world in general, availed to pre- 
vent "Marion Delorme" from being a pro- 
hibited piece. M. Taylor, who had rested all 
his prospects upon it for the winter season, 
was quite in despair. ' ' We have nothing 
else in our portfolio," he sighed, reckoning 
as comparatively nothing some eight or ten 
pieces by Viennet, a " Pertinax " by Arnault, 
and some stray productions of Delrieu and 
Le Mercier. 

"Never mind," said Victor Hugo, "we 
must see what can be done. This is only 
August; you were not yet about to com- 
mence rehearsing. Come to me again on 
the 1st of October." 

M. Taylor did not forget the appointment. 
He made his call on the precise day that had 
been fixed, and the poet put into his hands 
the manuscript of " Hernaui." The writing 
of this had been begun on the 17th of Sop- 



93 



VICTOR HUGO AND 318 TIME. 



tember, and the drama was completely finish- 
ed on the 35th. 

Like the "Marion," it was received with 
acclamations by the company of the Theatre 
Franpais; but it had likewise the fate to fall 
foul of the censorship. 

The report of the censors has been discov- 
ered; it is signed by Baron Trouve, the in- 
spector of theatres, and by Brifaut, Cheron, 
Laya, and Sauvo. Such a monument of stu- 
pidity is a rarity ; it concludes as follows ; 

" Our analysis has extended to a consider- 
able length ; but it gives, after all, a very im- 
perfect idea of the whimsical conception and 
defective execution of ' Hernani.' To us it 
appears to be a tissue of extravagancies, gen- 
erally trivial and often coarse, to which the 
author has failed to give anything of an ele- 
vated character. It abounds in improprie- 
ties; it makes the king express himself like 
a bandit, and the bandit treat the king like a 
brigand; it represents the daughter of a Span- 
ish grandee as a mere licentious creature, de- 
ficient alike in dignity and modesty. But 
while we animadvei-t upon these flagrant 
faults, we are of opinion that not only is 
there no harm in sanctioning the representa- 
tion of the piece, but that it would be un- 
advisable to curtail it by a single word. It 
will be for the benefit of the public to see to 
what extremes the human mind will go when 
freed froln all restraint." 

To this report of the committee Baron 
Trouve added a note, specifying certain cor- 
rections that were to be made: 

"1. The name of Jesus to be removed from 
every passage in which it occurs. 

" 3. The words ' You are a coward and a 
madman,' as addressed to the king, to be re- 
placed by a loss bitter expression. 

"3. The verse — 

" * Think'Et thou that kings to me have aught of sacred- 
ness?* 

to be altered. 

' ' 4. The verses beginning ' a vile king ' to 
be suppressed. The sentence had better end 
with the preceding verse, ' A king thou art, 
Don Carlos,' as the allusions that follow ap- 
pear dangerous. 

"5. The two lines which bear so harshly 
upon courtiers to be revised ; the court being 
described as a poultry-yard^ 

*' 'Wherein the easy king, solicited for food, 
Squanders his grains of grandeur on the brood.* 

' ' 6. The tirade against kings to be removed, 
commencing — 



" Toor fools! at empire aiming with proud eye aud 
head erect,' 

and terminating with — 

" ' Their rule the dictate of the necromancer's art.' 

The whole passage is merely a paraphrase of 
Frederic's saying, that ' God is on the side of 
great armies,' and ought to be cut out, if only 
on account of the couplet about ' right ' and 
' the scaffold.' The idea is tolerable enough, 
but is sufficiently worked out in the preced- 
ing lines." 

The entire document is a literary curiosity, 
and as such we introduce the above extract. 
The censors, of whom it was said that they 
only escaped contempt by ridicule, had their 
own way, and the poet was obliged to re- 
model all the condemned passages of his 
play. 

M.Vitet, afterwards an Academician, and 
one of the most enthusiastic admirers of Vic- 
tor Hugo's acted drama, had read "Hernani " 
to the minister in the censors' oiflce. When he 
finished, the secretary pronounced the piece 
"excessively stupid ;" but the censors did not 
venture to prohibit its i^erformance, and the 
rehearsals proceeded accordingly. The part 
of Hernani was given to M. Firmin, that of 
Don Carlos to Michelot, while the important 
role of Dona Sol was assigned to Mlle.Mars. 

Carried on during the terrible winter of 
1829-30, these rehearsals did not proceed 
quite so smoothly as they should. The sjon- 
pathy of the actors at the Theatre Fran9ais 
did not altogether lie with the romantics, and 
Mile. Mars could only half conceal her own 
dislike of the new school. Fifty years of 
life, moreover, had not improved her tem- 
per, and Dumas, Victor's faithful admirer, 
has recorded several instances of the disagree- 
ments that ai'o.se. One of these may be men- 
tioned. 

Pausing in the middle of a rehearsal, Mile. 
Mars suddenly said to the performer who 
was acting with her, 

' ' Pardon me, I have a word to say to the 
author." 

She advanced to the footlights, and, shad- 
ing her ej'es, looked round about in every 
direction, as if trying to discover him, al- 
though she was perfectly aware that he was 
sitting in the orchestra close to her. 

"Is M. Hugo here?" she inquired. 

"Here, mademoiselle, at your service," re- 
plied Hugo. 

"Ah, yes; thank you; I want to speak tO' 
you about this line — , . , 




DONA SOL IN "HKRNAKI." 



94 VIGTOB HUGO 

'"And thon, my lion, how proud and generous thou 
art 1' 



VIGTOn HUGO AM) HIS TIME. 



that I am made to say." 

"Quite right," rejoined Hugo; 
addresses you, and says. 



' Hernani 



" ' Alas ! I love thee with a love for tears too deep ; 
Together let ns die. E'eu though the world were 

. mine, 
Tts choicest,richest store of blessing should be thine. 
Uohappy II' 

And you say to liim, 

"'And thou, my lion, how proud and generons thou 
art 1' " 

"And you really like that?" inquired the 
actress. 

"Like 'what?" demanded the author. 

' ' The term ' my lion, ' " 

"Yes, I wrote it because I liked it best." 

" And j'ou wish me to retain it?" 

' ' Certainly ; unless you can suggest some- 
thing better." 

"I am not the author; it is not my place, 
but yours, to find something better," insisted 
MUe. Mars. 

"Well, then, we will, if you please, leave 
the words as they stand," retorted Hugo. 

"But I feel it so odd to have to call M.Fir- 
min my lion." 

' ' That is only because j^ou want to remain 
MUe. Mars instead of becoming Doiia Sol. 
Once get yourself absorbed so as to feel your- 
self the Castilian lady, the noble daughter of 



the sixteenth century, and the pupil of Gomez. 
de Sylva, and you wiU have no thought of 
M. Firmin ; you wiU see before you none 
other than Hernani, the robber chief, making 
the monarch tremble in his capital. Be such 
a woman, and to such a man you will open 
your soul, and say my lion." 

" Well, then," assented the actress, in her 
harsh, dry voice, ' ' if you decide so, I wDl say 
no more. My business is to deliver what the 
manuscript directs; it makes no difference to 
me. Come, Firmin, we will proceed: 
" ' And thon, my lion, how proud and generous thou 
art!'" 

The rehearsal was then resumed; but the 
very next day the same contention arose 
again, and MUe. Mars insisted upon substi- 
tuting " mon seigneur " for " mon lion." An- 
noyed at the interruption, Victor Hugo deter- 
mined at once both to put an end to the 
grumbling, and to be himself treated with 
proper respect ; accordingly, he requested 
MUe. Mars to throw up her part. Accustomed 
though she had been to have aU the writei'S 
of the world bowing down to her talent, Mile. 
Mars soon discovered that she had now to 
deal with a character of another kind. She 
forthwith became polite, and promised the 
author that she would perform her r61e as no 
one else could. 

When the hour of trial came, she amply 
vindicated her word. 




«imiiii mm i«|iiiwulilll'|iAff!ii I ' , . 

It ' ' M 

I ■%¥■ 



VICTOR HUOO AND HIS TIMM. 



95 



CHAPTER XIII. 

First Performmice of " Hernniii."— A Petilion from Ihe Classics.— Intrigues of the Philistines.— Appearance 
of " Yonng France. "—Thuopliile Giiutier's Red Waistcoat.— A (-Ineiie at the Theatre Door.— Seven Hours' 
Wait. — Scene in the Honse.— Honnige to BeaulJ^— Tlie Battle.— A Blunder. — Down with Sycophants. — 
Mtle.Mars's Costume. — A Child's Question. — The Triumph of Komanticism. — Parodies of "Heruaui." — 
The Press in 1830.— After the Victory. 



The first performance of "Hernani" was 
fixed for Febrmiry 25, 1830, a day that will 
ever be memorable in theatrical annals as 
being the occasion of a battle that, in its own 
field, may be compared in importance with 
Marengo or Austerlitz, although many of the 
details are not generally known. 

After the prohibition of ' ' Marion Delorme, " 
and the commotion that had been made dur- 
ing the rehearsals of " Hernani," public curi- 
osity was excited to the highest pitch. The 
classics did their utmost to prevent the per- 
formance of the piece. Their animosity is 
not hard to understand, as the innovators were 
set upon displacing them from a stage which 
they had hitherto regarded as their own pe- 
culiar property. Accordingly seven Acade- 
micians, a worn-out remnant of the imperial 
literati who had been long accustomed to 
.suppl}^ dramas for the Theatre Franfais, ad- 
dressed a petition to the king requiring that 
the house should be closed against all pro- 
ductions of the new school, and be reserved 
exclusively for writers who really appre- 
hended the true and the beautiful. The pe- 
tition specially demanded that the rehearsals 
of " Hernani" should be stopped. 

Charles X. gave these Ijcnighted individuals 
an appropriate answer. 

" In literary matters," he said, "1113' place, 
gentlemen, is only, like yours, among the au- 
dience." 

The complainants, however, were not in- 
clined to allow that they were beaten: they 
brought every kind of oiBcial influence to 
bear so effectually that, dm-ing the early part 
of Louis Philippe's reign, they contrived to 
keep an interdict upon all Victor Hugo's dra- 
matic works; but now, meanwhile, in 1830, 
"Hernani" was about to be performed, and 
they had to insure its being received with 
hoots and hisses. 

A watch, as strict as possible, was always 
kept during the rehearsals at the door of the 
theatre; but, in spite of this, one of the clas- 



sic confraternity had .succeeded in concealing 
himself somewhere witliiu the liouse. In this 
way a certain knowledge of the piece was ob- 
tained beforehand, and a number of ridicu- 
lous verses were hawked about to bring the 
play into contempt and make it fall flat. In 
addition to this, a parody on the forthcoming 
drama was performed at the Vaudeville sev- 
eral daj's before the piece was brought out 
at the Theatre Pran^ais. 

Joining with the cabal, the censorship, in 
the strangest fashion, published an abusive 
notice of the manuscript, which had been 
submitted to them hj order. 

These various manffiuvres are described in 
a curious article in the Journal des Debate of 
February 24, 1830, from which it is evident to 
how limited an extent the word of some of 
the censors was to be trusted. 

One of them, who had studied "Marion 
Delorme " from his own point of view, said to 
the poet .shortly afterwards, "For my part, I 
consider that a censor who should knowingly 
divtdgo the contents of a work that it had 
been his duty to inspect would be acting in a 
way as odious and unworthy as a priest who 
should reveal the secret.s of the confessional." 

But, notwithstanding this vehement decla- 
ration, there was a breach of confidence some- 
where: some verses of the play were pub- 
lished, many of them so altered that they 
were quite grotesque. The poet knew pretty 
well that the treachery had not come from 
the theatre, and, suspecting the real source 
of the attack, made his complaint to the afore- 
said incorruptible censor, receiving in replj' 
a letter which, with his usual magnanimitJ^ 
he abstained from publishing, but which con- 
tained the following passage : 

' ' What, sir, is your grievance? Have your 
spies informed you that I have revealed the 
secret of your dramaV Have you been told 
that I have been repeating your verses and 
turning them into ridicule? And suppose it 
is so, what harm have I done? Are your 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



works sacred? And as to the lines that have 
been quoted, there can hardly be more than 
three at the utmost." 

The excuse that is thus pleaded reminds 
us very much of the thief in " Jodelle," who, 
when he was caught in the act of stealing, 
gave himself credit for only taking three 
louis-d'or when he had the whole pile before 
him from which he could help himself. The 
scrupulous censor had evidently lost all sense 
of shame. 

All Paris, as might be expected, was intent 
upon witnessing the first performance, and 
the competition for the smallest boxes was 
very keen. M. Thiers, Benjamin Constant, 
and many more who were interested in liter- 
ature, applied to the author to secure them 
places. 

Just on the eve of the important day, Vic- 
tor Hugo, to the consternation of the actors 
and actresses, came to the resolution that he 
should refuse admission to all claqueurs. 
Besides that his pride made him entertain a 
dislike to paid applause, there was another 
reason that weighed with him — he felt that 
he could have no confidence in men who had 
always been in the service of the classics; and 
it was one of not the least curious signs of 
those heroic times that the "knights of the 
chandelier," in their passionate attachment 
to tragedy of the old school, might begin to 
hiss instead of to applaud. 

Fired with an unprecedented zeal, a bevy 
of the literary scions of the day came forward 
and offered themselves as a substitute for the 
professional claqueurs, who were evidently 
unreliable. Gerard de Nerval undertook to 
recruit and organize the voluntary troop 
ready for the evening that threatened to be 
so stormy. This refined and elegant writer 
had a brave and generous nature, and well 
deserved the confidential friendship to which 
Victor Hugo admitted him. His first step 
was to select a certain number of " captains " 
on whom he knew he might rely, and com- 
mission them to enlist a company of recruits. 
To the summons thus issued Petrus Borel, 
Balzac, Berlioz, Auguste Maquet, Preault, 
Jehan du Seigneur, Joseph Bouchardy, and a 
number of others quickly responded, all of 
them ready to rally to the trumpet-call of 
"Hernam," and, as they said, "resolved to 
take their stand upon the rugged mount of Ro- 
manticism, and valiantly to defend its passes 
against the assaults of the classics." De Ner- 
val distributed to them their tickets, which 
consisted of squares of red paper signed at 



the corner with the word hierro, the Spanish 
for "iron." 

Among those on whom the lot of captain 
fell none was prouder than Theophile Gau- 
tier, who had long been burning with a zeal- 
ous eagerness to fight against the hydra of 
"perruquinism." Wild and boundless was 
the enthusiasm with which the light-hearted 
young poet demanded of his followers, on 
their honor, that they would give no quarter 
to the Philistines! Unparalleled was the de- 
votion with which he regarded the author, to 
whom he was ready to say, as Dante of old 
said to Virgil, " Thou art the guide and mas- 
ter of my thought!" And touching are the 
pages, exuberant in their passion and rich in 
their flow, which he has dedicated to the im- 
mortal day of " Hemani!" And fervent was 
the frenzy with which he pressed to his bos- 
om the crimson ticket with its motto, bidding 
him to be strong and trusty as Castilian steel 1 
He was but nineteen years of age; but having 
made up his mind to be a champion and a 
warrior in the cause, he concluded that it 
would be out of character for him to appear 
in the ordinary costume of a citizen, and felt 
that it behooved him to adopt some special 
uniform. For some time he had visions of 
fanciful doublets and feudal armor, but at 
last decided upon wearing a red waistcoat. 
He declared that he had a special predilection 
for red, not only as a noble color that had 
been dishonored by political strife, but as the 
type of blood and life and heat; a hue that 
blends with equal perf ectness with marble or 
with gold, and which he deplored as having 
vanished so entirely from modern life and 
modern art. He discerned, as he thought, a 
fitting occasion whereon red might be brought 
from oblivion, and reinstated in an honor that 
it should henceforth never lose. He would 
constitute himself " the lion of the red," and 
would flash its brilliancy upon "the grays," 
as he designated the classics, who had no 
sympathy with the light of poetry. The bul- 
locks, though terrified at the color, should 
have to face the red of Hugo's verse! 

Having thus made up his mind about the 
dress he would wear, he sent for Gaulois, his 
tailor. Gaulois made a good many objec- 
tions; it seemed to him a proceeding out of 
all reason for a waistcoat not only to be red, 
but that it should be made to button behind. 
One by one the tailor's objections were over- 
ruled: Gautier first gave him a pattern which 
he had himself cut out of a piece of gray 
cloth, and although he was looked upon as 



VICTOR Iiuao AND BIS TIME. 



97 



little short of raving mad when he selected 
some scarlet satin for the material, he held to 
his order so Hrmly that resiatauco was useless, 
and the waistcoat was made. 

The rest of Theophile Gantier's costume, 
us described in "L'llistoire de Komanti- 



tered ribbon did duty both for collar and 
cravat. It is the red waistcoat, however, that 
will be remembered for ages yet to come! 

In his " Legende du Gilet Rouge " Gauticr 
himself writes; 

"Any one who has the least acquaintance 




TIIEOPHIIjE gautiek in 18(JU. 



cisme," consisted of a pair of pale -green 
trousers with a stripe of black velvet down 
the seams, a black coat with broad velvet 
facings, and a voluminous gray overcoat 
turned up with green satin. A piece of wa- 
7 



with French character will own that to pre- 
sent one's self with hair as long as Albert 
Dilrer's, and a waistcoat as red as an Anda- 
lusian bull-fighter's, in a place of amusement 
Where all Paris is assembled, requires a sort 



98 



VICTOR HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



of courage very different from that which in- 
spires a man to storm a, redoubt that is bris- 
tling with cannon. Never has there been a 
war but there has always been the heroic 
band, the forlorn -hope, volunteering to ac- 
complish the daring deed ; but hitherto there 
has been found only a solitary Frenchman 
venturing to flaunt upon his breast a piece of 
stuff of so rare, so dazzling, so aggressive a 
hue I 

"And now we must wear it bravely: no 
good for us to try to tear it off; it must cling 
to us like the coat of Nessus. It is the hallu- 
cination of the bourgeoisie that they never can 
see us without it; we may put on garments 
of olive, of chestnut, of ochre, of London soot, 
of pickle color, or any other of the neutral 
tints that a sober civilization may approve, 
but nevertheless we shall never be recognized 
as otherwise than wearing the red waistcoat. 

"Precisely so also with the hair. Cut it 
as short as we will, we shall always be pre- 
sumed to be wearing it long; so that even 
were we to present ourselves to the orchestra 
with our polls as polished as ivory or as 
smooth and shiny as ostrich-eggs, the whole 
artillery of opera-glasses would assuredly re- 
veal that a perfect cascade of Merovingian 
locks was falling around our shoulders." 

Many other of the "Hernani" partisans 
appeared in costume scarcely less eccentric. 
The young men had asked to be allowed ad- 
mission into the theatre before the general 
public, so that they might preoccupy the ob- 
scure places or any corners in which some 
"hissers" might be likely to make an am- 
bush. This request was conceded on condi- 
tion that they should all be at the door by 
three o'cloc^ but so anxious were they not 
to be thwarted in their plan that they actually 
assembled at noon. 

The passengers along the street stopped 
and stared at them with amazement; such a 
fantastic assemblage baffled their comprehen- 
sion. Some of them wore soft felt hats; 
some appeared in coats of velvet or satin, 
frogged, braided, or trimmed with fur; others, 
enveloped in Spanish cloaks, stood with their 
arms akimbo; and many more wore velvet 
caps of the most extraordinary shapes. It 
looked as though a costumier's store had been 
ransacked, and " young France " had run off 
with the spoil to deck themselves out as Ru- 
bens, Velasquez, or some of the old heroes of 
the Revolution. v 

It was not, howeve: the motley costumes 
that so much offended "the good taste" of 



thfr bourgeoisie, as the way in which the hair 
was allowed to fall round the neck and the 
prodigious growth of beards. At that date 
beards were considered so improper that in 
no station of life would a young man have 
ventured to be married wearing either beard 
or whiskers or mustache. The two Deverias, 
in 1835, were the first to raise the standard of 
revolt in this respect, and they were only al- 
lowed the privilege because their friend Vic- 
tor Hugo had encouraged it. Their example 
was ultimately followed by a host of others. 

Altogether the long hair was decidedly the 
feature that most of all provoked the wrath 
of the citizens. The flowing locks might be 
carefully trimmed, and the mustaches might 
be elegantly curled, but nevertheless they cre- 
ated a great deal of scandal. The classic 
journals, great and small, announced that the 
corps of the romanticists was made up of 
rough, fierce, and dirty vagabonds ; ' ' brigands 
of thought," as Philothee O'Neddy designat- 
ed them — such alone were capable of espous- 
ing the cause of " Hernani." 

But, "brigands" though they were called, 
they were nevertheless poets, reviewers, jour- 
nalists, architects, painters, and sculptors; 
for the most part, they belonged to good 
families, and were well educated, and since;;e 
in their love of art and liberty. At the same 
time, it must be allowed that it was a mis- 
fortune that they should elect to manifest 
their craving for reform and their detestation 
of the prevailing flatness of style by adopting 
such an eccentricity of dress and personal 
appearance. 

It was a whim which involved them in 
considerable discomfort, at times exposing 
them to violent assaults ; and as they now 
stood in their places in the queue in the Rue 
de Valois, they were pelted with cabbage- 
stalks and every variety of filth. Balzac 
himself was struck oii the face. 

They knew well enough that any retalia- 
tion on their part would only provoke a row, 
bringing about the interference of the police; 
accordingly, they only smiled and allowed 
the mob to bespatter them at will. 

At two o'clock the doors of the theatre 
were opened, and the troop rushed in, ntak- 
ing it their first business to explore the most 
obscure places in the house, in case any pf 
their adversaries should be in hiding. Some 
chose the pit, some the upper gaUery, those 
most devoted to the cause always selecting 
the most inferior positions. 

There were more than six hours to wait 




"young FRANCE" OUTSIDE THE THBlTRE FBANgAIS, 



100 



VIOTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



before the curtain would rise. They had, 
at any rate, got the start of the classics, hut 
the next question was how they should con- 
duct themselves during the long interval. 

It cannot be said that they behaved par- 
ticularly well. The far-seeing ones, the no- 
taries of the future, had provided themselves 
with refreshments ; they had brought in their 
hard-boiled eggs and their sausages, smelling 
sufficiently strong of garlic, and they had not 
forgotten their bottles of wine. According- 
ly, they ate and drank and chattered, and 
then they proceeded to sing their studio 
songs ; but the hours, nevertheless, passed 
somewhat tediously away. • 

Among other things they discussed the 
various titles that had been proposed for the 
forthcoming piece. Victor Hugo himself had 
first intended calling it "Trois pour Une," 
truly a romantic title, and one which, in the 
opinion of some of them — although the mi- 
nority— was a fine challenge to the old trag- 
ic party. A good many, however, preferred 
calling it "L'Honneur Castillan," as in a 
certain degree indicating the leading idea of 
the play. Still, the predominant feeling was 
in favor of naming it simply "Hemani," 
the title which had been retained, although 
Mame's first edition, published in 1830, was 
entitled "Hemani, ou THonneur Castillan." 

Some of the young enthusiasts related how 
Victor Hugo, in coming from Spain to France 
as a little child, had passed through the town 
of Ernani, and maintained that its sonorous 
name had fastened itself upon the poet's 
memory; others of them recited some of the 
verses of the drama which their intimacy 
with the author had enabled them to learn 
by heart; and thus, by means of sandwiches, 
songs, and recitations, the time waned and 
the momentous hour drew nigh. 

The chandelier was lighted, and the busi- 
ness of the evening commenced long before 
the rising of the curtain, as whenever a box- 
door was opened the eyes of ' ' young France " 
were turned in that direction, and as often 
as any graceful girl was admitted to her seat 
there was a general outburst of applause. 

The young connoisseurs were far more at- 
tracted by personal beauty than they were 
captivated either by sparkling jewels or cost- 
ly toilets. When Mile. Delphine Gay, who 
afterwards became Madame de Girardin, 
made her appearance, her chiselled features, 
her fair hair, and the finished elegance of her 
attire evoked for her a triple round of cheers; 
and yet she wore nothing but the plainest 



white muslin dress, fastened with a blue sash, 
her entire costume, as she told the Due de 
Montmorency the next day, having cost only 
eight-and-twenty francs. . But the color of 
the sash, the perfect fit of the robe, and her 
own sweet countenance formed a tout-ensem- 
ble so charming that it could not fail to arouse 
enthusiasm. 

In due time the classics also began to ar- 
rive, and the heads of the Academicians be- 
gan to "pave the orchestra." Then com- 
menced the fray. At first, low murmurs and 
angry growls were heard amid the throng. 
The two armies, or, as they have been signifi- 
cantly called, "the two civilizations, "found 
themselves face to face; with war in their 
hearts and with head erect, they glared upon 
each other ready to discharge their volleys of 
vituperation. Gautier's red waistcoat was of 
course a conspicuous object, and became the 
theme of perpetual banter; but the young 
romantic only smiled contemptuously, and, 
disdaining all ridicule, stood with his fists 
closed, ready to resent any direct provoca- 
tion that should be given. Endowed with 
prodigious strength, he seemed only waiting 
his opportunity to show himself a Samson 
among the Philistines. 

The storm still gathered, the tumult in- 
creased, and the cross-fire of invectives be- 
came more continuous, until there is little 
doubt that blows would ultimately have fol- 
lowed, had not the three sharp raps, the well- 
known signal for the lifting of the cur- 
tain, temporarily at least calmed the excite- 
ment. 

But the play did not proceed far without 
interruption. The scene of the first act is a 
bedchamber, in which a crimson curtain 
covers the window and a secret door is seen, 
at which Hemani is accustomed to knock. 
The old duenna, Josepha Duarte, having 
drawn the curtain and listened at the door 
for the arrival of Hemani to visit her mis- 
tress, proceeds to say, 

"Serait-ce deja lui? C'est bien h I'escalier 
DSi-obfi. ..." 

Immediately the commotion burst out 
afresh, and loud protestations were heard on 
every side. 

The classics had never known such wan- 
ton audacity; to put "derobe" in such a 
place, at the beginning of another line! Pre- 
posterous! 

"But that," exclaimed a red-haired artist, 
" is just the beauty of it; the position of the 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



101 



word precisely answers to the mystery of the 
secret staircase!" 

The loud cries of "Silence!" "Hush!" 
"Turn him out!" had the efEect of making 
the offender hold his tongue ; but the tumult 
could not be long suppressed. 

We may again quote Thiophile Gautier, 
who, though an active partisan, may yet be 
accepted as a competent witness of what 
transpired with regard to this struggle. He 
subsequently writes: 

"Now that men's minds have become ac- 
customed to regard as classical the very nov- 
elties that at first were treated as pure bar- 
barisms, it is difficult to describe the effect 
produced upon an audience by verses so 
singular and strong, and yet of a style so 
strange, containing a ring of both Corneille 
and Shakespeare. Before the excitement 
can be comprehended, it is necessary to real- 
ize the extent to which the mere honor for 
words was carried in France, alike in poetry 
and in prose; and, after all, it will be next to 
impossible to conceive the horror which was 
originally experienced, though now, lilie oth- 
er prejudices, it may have passed away. 

"Let any one nowadays attend a per- 
formance of ' Hernani,' following the play 
with an old copy in his hand, upon the mar- 
gin of which there are marks indicating the 
passages which at first were the signal for 
uproar and contention, and he will find that 
these are the very passages at which the ap- 
plause rises like the flapping of the wings of 
gigantic birds; the very points which once 
were the occasion of battles fought and re- 
fought, of ambuscades of reviling epithets, 
of bloodhounds let loose to fasten on the 
throats of the foe, are now hailed with univer- 
sal favor. The present generation can never 
duly comprehend the efforts that were made 
to liberate them from the long-established 
bonds of foolery. 

"How could any one imagine that such a 

line as 

'"Bst-il miunit — minnit bientot,' 

aroused a storm so violent that it raged for 
days together?" 

Throughout the performance, everything 
that night served as a pretext for an uproar; 
and when, at the end of the first act, Herna- 
ni uttered his cry of anger: 

"De ta Buite— j'eu Buie." 

the whole tribe of baldheads was lashed into 
incredible fury. 
It must not be concealed, however, that 



the defence was as furious and occasionally 
quite as senseless as the attack. For in- 
stance, when Ruy Gomez is about to marry 
his kinswoman, Dona Sol, he confides her 
to the care of King Carlos, whereupon Her- 
nani exclaims to Gomez, "Vieillard stupide 
[you old stupid], he is in love with her!" 
A veritable classic, M. Perseval de Grand- 
maison, who was rather deaf, imagined that 
the words were "Vieil as de piques" (old 
ace of spades). Full of indignation, he cried 
out, 

" This is too much! Shame!" 

"What did you say?" inquired LassaiUy, 
who was sitting in the adjoining stall and 
had not observed the words to which he al- 
luded. 

"I say it is a great shame to call a worthy 
character like Ruy Gomez an old ace of 
spades." 

" Shame, sir? not at all!" retorted Lassail- 
ly; "he has a perfect right to do so ; cards 
were invented — yes, M. I'Academicien, I 
should have thought you would have known 
that cards were invented in the days of 
Charles VI. Bravo, Hugo ! Bravo, old ace 
of spades!" 

This anecdote is related in the "Memoires 
de Dumas." 

Whenever the groans of the Philistines 
became too unbearable, the enthusiasts of 
the pit would drown them by shouting, "To 
the guillotine with the sycophants!" 

But, however fierce was the outcry, no 
doubt could remain that the old strongholds 
were captured, and Romanticism had proved 
triumphant; Romanticism, which, according 
to Baudelaire, is but the modern expression 
for the beautiful, had asserted its power, 
and at the conclusion of the performance 
the name of the author was proclaimed as 
that of a victorious general, and the shouts 
of acclamation overwhelmed the storm of 
hisses. 

The next day Chateaubriand wrote to Vic- 
tor Hugo, expressing his admiration of his 
genius, and hailed him as one rising to the 
world just at the time that his own star was 
setting. 

Before the rising of the drop for the fifth 
act, M. Mame, the publisher, had asked Vic- 
tor Hugo to give him an interview for a few 
minutes in the street outside, and, as the re- 
sult of a short conversation, he offered him 
six thousand francs for the manuscript of 
the play. The bargain was forthwith con- 
cluded, and the money immediately paid 



102 



VtOTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



down in a tobacconist's shop close at hand. 
The payment came very opportunely. Vic- 
tor Hugo, who has himself related the fact, 
had not at the time more than fifty francs 
in the world. He re-entered the theatre in 
high spirits. 

All the actors and actresses had gone 
through their parts bravely, and the poet 
made due acknowledgments to each of 
them. With regard to Mile. Mars, he own- 
ed that none but those who saw her could 
have any idea of the effect that she had pro- 
duced as Dona Sol, so skilfully had she de- 
veloped the part, her talent carrying her from 
the graceful to the sublime, and back from 
the sublime to the pathetic. 

Nevertheless, the popular actress had had 
her own way; she had never been able to 
reconcile herself to call M. Firmin "mon 
lion," and had persisted in substituting what 
appeared to her the more appropriate title 
of "mon seigneur;" neither would she al- 
low any interference with her toilette, for, al- 
though she made her appearance in white, 
she would not be induced to wear anything 
on her head but one of the fanciful little 
hats that were all the rage in Paris at the 
time. Nothing, of course, could be more in- 
congruous for a Spanish girl at the begin- 
ning of the sixteenth century, but her reso- 
lution was fixed. The costume, which is 
worthy of being included in a collection of 
caricatures, may be found in one of the de- 
partments of the BibliothSque Nationale. 

In spite of all minor defects, the piece re- 
tained its place in the play-bill with the most 
brilliant pecuniary results,standing its ground 
notwithstanding the ridicule with which it 
continued to be greeted. 

Listening to the play as it was repeated 
night after night, Victor Hugo found by 
marking h.:; manuscript that there was not a 
line, nor a half -line, that did not in its turn 
come in for the fate of being hooted. One 
evening his little sister-in-law, hardly more 
than a child, was taken to the theatre, and, 
on her return, asked her sister whether the 
hisses that went on all through the intervals 
between the acts were of the same account 
as those which were kept up duriag the per- 
formance. The question could not give much 
consolation to Madame Victor Hugo, who 
waited anxiously every night to hear how the 
play had gone off. 

The wrath of the public was fanned by the 
press, which had never been more unjust in 
its criticisms. With the exception of the 



Journal des Debata and one or two reviews, 
there was not a single newspaper found to 
defend the work. Unfortunately, we have 
not the means of reproducing the insults that 
were heaped upon the poet at this period, 
and it is beyond conception with what dis- 
gust the innovations of the romantics were 
received. Women were up in arms about 
the immorality of the piece, considering it 
horrible and monstrous for any one to' allow 
the imagination to be sullied by such shame- 
ful scenes.. It was done under the name of 
the national dignity, and with an ostentation 
of respect for the purity of their tongue and 
admiration of the beautiful; but the most emi- 
nent critics did not scruple to denounce the 
romantics as slovens, rascals, drunkards, and 
madmen, and to declare that " Hernani " was 
utterly foul and abominable. 

Foremost among the assailants was Ar- 
mand Carrel, who, in his earliest contribu- 
tions to the National, delivered himself of 
some terrible onslaughts. 

After reading his first article on ' ' Hernani, " 
Victor Hugo wrote him an explanatory let- 
ter, in which he reminded him of various 
peculiarities characteristic of the soi-duant 
classics of 1830. 

Carrel immediately replied, 

"It is quite true that I take my stand by 
the classics, but the classics that I am proud 
of acknowledging have all long been dead." 

And having said this, the brilliant polemist 
went on to declare his conviction that no op- 
position was too vehement to be brought to 
bear on a production that was calculated to 
inspire minds naturally refined and well-bal- 
anced with a deplorable spirit of emulation. 
Blinded with rage, he had not the penetra- 
tion to foresee that the author of " Hernani " 
would ultimately come to rank among the 
greatest of " classics," who, by restoring the 
lyric to the drama, would link it afresh to the 
ancients — to ^schylus, Sophocles, and Eurip- 
ides as well as to the modern Comeille and 
Shakespeare. 

The literary war rose to such importance 
that it occupied public attention almost as 
much as the appointment of Polignac as 
minister. It created a vast sensation even in 
the provinces, and a young man was killed in 
a duel of which a quarrel about "Hernani " 
was the cause. 

Victor Hugo received numberless anony- 
mous letters, not only full of insult,but some 
of them containing threats against his life ; 
and so seriously did his friends regard the con- 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



10« 



ditiou of things that they never failed every 
iiiglit when he left the theatre to accompany 
him to his own house. 

The parodies on the play were too numer- 
ous to be recounted. Tlie most notorious 
were those entitled " Harnali.ou la Contrainte 
par Cor," by A. de Lauzanuc; " N. I. Ni, ou 
Ic Danger des Castilles," a wild rigmarole by 
Carmouelie and Dupeuty ; and one styled 
'■ Fanfau le Troubadour a la Representation 
d'Hernaiii." Countless also were the pam- 
pldets published about tlie " rococos" armed 
for war against tlie vandal partisans of the 
Goth. 

Tliese feuds have long since passed away. 
Time, to whom ^sehylus dedicated his trage- 
dies, has once again vindicated the assertion 
that genius will always in the long-run at- 
tract men s souls. As Paul de Saiut-Victor 
has remarked, it will be to Victor Hugo's 
lionor that lie has gained in grandeur by the 
storm; liis glory has been reared by insult as 
much as by applause. 

"The flag of liberty in art was first planted 
by ' Hernani ' on the breach of an assaulted 
citadel. What the Cid was for tlie ancient 
stage, such was ' Ilernaui ' to the new, at once 
a revolution and a renaissance. Tlie mission 
of ■ Hernani,' when it appeared in 1830, was 
to overturn the false classic tragedy that Cor- 



neille had- reared in marble, and Campestron 
to De Jouy had imitated in plaster. Hernani 
sounded his horn as Joshua blew his trump- 
et, and the tliree unities tottered to their fall. 
A long array of living personages, genuine 
flesh and blood.natural, with human passions, 
fanciful and lyrical, strange it miglit be, and 
picturesque in their attire, came trooping in 
from every epoch of history, to take the places 
where hitherto abstract Idugs had been accus- 
tomed to rccoimt their abstract dreams. . . . 
The main design of this literary revolution 
was to annihilate tlie trashy repetitious of 
the old drama, and to stamp out the common- 
place conventionalities of comedy where true 
eloquence was only aped by a laborious rliet- 
oric. The romantics have been likened tc 
barbarians, and they may do worse than ac 
cept the comparison. Wherever the horse of 
Attila set liis hoof, the grass would grow no 
more ; so where Victor Hugo's drama has 
made good its footing, the miserable thistles 
and the artificial flowers of the false classic 
style have never again been seen. The renais- 
sance was magnificent, and requicltened 
every form of language and of thouglit." 

In consequence of Mile. Mars having tc 
leave, the performance of "Hernani" was 
discontinued, and the play was not agaiu 
acted until eight years afterwards. 




104 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME.- 



CHAPTER XIV. 

The Kevolution of Jnly, 1S80.— Performance of "Marion Delorme."— Reasons for Delay.— Reception by the 
Public.— Parodies.— Jules Janin's Indignation — "Le Eoi s'Amnse."- First Performance.— A Severe 
Critic— Immediate Prohibition.— Causes of Prohibition.— Lonis Philippe's Ministry.— Trial before the 

Board of Trade.— Disgraceful Hostility of the Newspapers.— The Poet's Reply "Lucrdce Borgia."— Its 

Actors.— Immense Success.- A Duel Avoided. 

had indeed for some years been in the fore- 
most ranks of the opposition, and since reach- 
ing man's estate he had been on the side of 
all that encouraged liberty and improvement; 
moreover, he had entered into certain con- 
tracts about this "Marion Deloi-me;" but at 
the same time he could not forget how, when 
he had first been launched into the literary 
world at the age of sixteen, all his sympathies 
and opinions had been royalist and Vendean. 
He might be convinced now that his senti- 
ments then had been mere delusions, but he 
could not fail to remember that he had once 
written "a coronation ode," though he could 
plead that it was composed when the peo- 
ple's king had announced amid universal 
acclamations that there should be "no more 
censorship ! no more halberds!" And now 
he did not want to have the past thrown up 
against him. He felt in his heart that he had 
acted conscientiously and disinterestedly; he 
had only done his duty, acting according to 
his lights; but he was satisfied that now his 
voice ought to be uplifted rather on the part 
of those who applauded the people than of 
those who cursed the king, and accordingly 
he refused to sanction the performance, not 
caring for a success that was the result either 
of political allusions or of scandal. 

When, however, another year had elapsed, 
and Charles X. and his censorship had fallen 
into oblivion, there could be no further rea- 
son for postponing the representation of an 
historical drama simply because Louis XIII. 
was one of the characters. 

Certain, therefore, that his work would no 
longer be supposed to convey any insinuation 
against the Bourbons, Victor Hugo allowed 
the rehearsals to coromence; but, in spite of 
the solicitations of Mile. Mars, and of the 
manager of the TheStre Franpais, he selected 
the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin, thus ful- 
filling the prediction of M. Crosnier,who had 
now become the proprietor of the house. 

The unavowed hostility that still lurked in 



"To flght for liberty" was the romantic 
motto that had now become the watchword 
of the people. Eoused to indignation by the 
edicts promulgated by Charles X. , and by the 
policy of his minister, Polignac, Paris at last 
revolted, and at the end of July, 1830, re- 
quested the king to retire into exile, and there 
to meditate upon the mischief of despotism. 

The political revolution was effected simul- 
taneously with the literary, but unfortunately 
the Bepublican party was not strong enough 
to establish itself, and the crown merely 
changed hands by passing from the elder to 
the younger branch of the Bourbons. After 
lurking behind the throne, Louis Philippe 
now succeeded in mounting the steps, and 
made an attempt to naturalize that bastard 
form of government which in Prance will 
ever be an impossibility — a constitutional 
monarchy. 

Victor Hugo's relations with Louis Philippe 
will be introduced hereafter, but, adhering to 
our programme, we will continue to recount 
the incidents connected with his dramatic 
labors. 

The expulsion of Charles X. removed the 
impediment to the production of "Marion 
Delorme," which, it will be remembered, was 
prohibited by the censorship and by the royal 
veto in 1829. But, now that liberty was re- 
stored to the stage, the ComSdie Franpaise 
bethought themselves of the piece, and the 
poet received a number of applications urg- 
ing him to allow it to be produced. It was 
conjectured, not without some show of reason, 
that during this time of political reaction the 
fourth act, which had been such a bugbear 
to Charles X., would prove a brilliant suc- 
cess. 

But, as the author has explained in one of 
his prefaces to the printed editions of the 
play, it was just this likelihood of reactionary 
success that induced him to detain the woii 
a little longer in his portfolio. He felt that 
he was in a somewhat peculiar position. He 



• VICTOR HUGO AND HIB TIME. 



105 



the Rue Richelieu against all works of the 
romantic school decided Victor Hugo upon 
making this change. He considered it ad- 
visable to have a manager who would take 
all responsibility, and he promised M. Cros- 
nier to provide him with two pieces a year, 
upon the condition that he would have it 
announced in the play-bills that M. Hugo's 
works would not be submitted to the censor- 
ship. 

The first performance of "Marion De- 
lorme" took place on August 11, 1831, suc- 
ceeding upon a run of Alexandre Dumas' 
"Antony." Madame Dorval took the part 
of Marion, and M. Socage that of Didier. 
The excitement of the audience was quite as 
great as it had been at the first performance 
of " Hernani;" but, in spite of all the tumult, 
the piece was obviously a success. 

From the production of ' ' Marion Delorme, " 
however, the receipts were less than they had 
been in the case of the previous play, but the 
enemies of the poet were not yet completely 
disai-med, although perhaps it is not entirely 
to be attributed to their spleen that there was 
at the time a pecuniary failure of a piece 
which is now always received with unbound- 
ed applause, and which throughout its five 
acts never fails to arouse the spectator alter- 
nately to laughter and terror, and to charm 
him by the flow of its magnificent verse. 

With the exception of the principal rSles, 
all the parts, although they really require 
thoroughly good acting, were taken by play- 
ers of no note and devoid of talent. The 
public taste, too, was not yet educated to the 
new style, and Victor Hugo had still many 
struggles to make before he could attain his 
object of reforming the stage. Moreover, po- 
litical affairs were particularly grave, and all 
men's more serious interests were absorbed 
in matters that seemed of larger importance 
than poetry and the drama. The Journal 
Offldel of the 12th of August does not even 
mention the performance of the "Marion," 
while all the other journals mention the piece 
only to condemn it, with the exception of the 
Journal des DebaU, and even that is some- 
what severe. 

It was in a Normandy diligence that Alex- 
andre Dumas, who was coming from Trou- 
ville, expecting to be in time to witness the 
production of the play, was informed by a 
writer on the staff of the Debats that he had 
come too late. But, in order to console him, 
the contributor to a paper that was always a 
supporter of Victor Hugo's interests added, 



" However, you have not lost much. The 
audience received it coldly, very coldly. As- 
poetry it is weaker than 'Hernani;' and as 
for the plot, why, that is prigged from De 
Vigny's romance I" 

And the critic rubbed his hands with a 
self-satisfied air, and doubtless, had the con- 
versation been continued, was quite ready to- 
go on to avow that Victor Hugo had really 
no talent whatever. 

The Moniteur, in criticising the piece on 
the 15th, after observing that talent should 
never overstep the rules of good taste, goes 
on to say that "this maxim could not be too 
often inculcated upon M. Victor Hugo, who 
seems no more inclined to recognize it now 
than he did in the merry days of ' Hernani.' 
A few beardless novices, eager perhaps to 
keep him down to their own level, may flat- 
ter him into the belief that his productions 
are all chefs -d'auvre, but never yet has he 
conceived anything more meagre and com- 
monplace, and at the same time more full 
of eccentricities, than 'Marion Delorme.'" 
In reply to this, the Eevue des Deux Mondes 
insisted that M. Hugo had never so truly 
shown himself a poet, nor attained to so 
high a range of vision nor so wide a field of 
judgment as now. 

As well as being attacked by the press, the 
play was travestied by parodies at the minor 
theatres. At the Varietes there was "Une 
Nuit de Marion Delorme," by Th6ric and 
Girau ; and at the Vaudeville, the ' Gothon 
du Passage Delorme," by Dupeuty and Du- 
vert. Nor can it be imagined what coarse, 
stupid jokes these burlesques contained ; 
they were as bits of mud thrown at the 
poet's mantle, yet so foul was their nature 
that at length Jules Janin uttered an indig- 
nant protest against their odious nonsense. 
The poet himself did not deign to notice in- 
sults emanating from so low a source; he 
felt himself strong enough to despise his 
traducers, confident that he should gain re- 
nown in spite of his violation of antiquated 
rules, and that he should rise to be admired 
in defiance of the public and the press. 
Calm and undisturbed he continued his work, 
and his fame emerged all the greater from 
the wranglings and disputes. 

' ' Marion Delorme " was succeeded by " Le 
Roi s'Amuse," which Victor Hugo began on 
the 1st of June, 1832, and finished during one 
of the periods of disturbance that were so 
frequent in Louis Philippe's reign. Immedi- 
ately afterwards he wrote " LucrSce Borgia." 



106 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



I 



M. Taylor, having heard of the completion 
of the two dramas, the first of which was in 
verse and the second in prose, put in his claim 
for "Le Roi s' Amuse." The author acceded 
to his request, and the piece was at once re- 
hearsed, M. Ligier appearing as Triboulet, M. 
Joanny as St.Vallier, M. Perrier as Fran9ois 
I., and Mile. Anals as Blanche. 

The rehearsals went on quietly enough 
through the summer, and by November ev- 
erything was ready for the performance, when 
M. d'Argout, the minister for the time being, 
sent for the manuscript. As the censorship 
was presumed to be abolished, the author re- 
fused to comply with the demand, but went 
to call upon M. d'Argout, who he found had 
been informed by some one that "Le Roi 
.s' Amuse" contained certain allusions that 
were derogatory to Louis Philippe. Victor 
Hugo emphatically denied the application, 
and asserted that in depicting Francois I. in 
his true historical colors he had no more 
thought of Louis Philippe than he had 
thought of Charles X. in depicting Louis 
XIII. 

The minister yielded to his representations, 
and the first performance took place on No- 
vember 23, 1833. 

Just as usual the young men were at their 
posts, with Theophile Gautier and Celestin 
Nauteuil at their head ; but " young France " 
was now beginning to interest itself in poli- 
tics, and as the elite of beauty and fashion en- 
tered the boxes they were not greeted as be- 
fore by rounds of applause, but by the strains 
of the "Marseillaise " and "La Carmagnole." 
The effect produced upon the habitues of the 
Thetoe Fran^ais may be more easily imag- 
ined than described. To crown all, just be- 
fore the curtain rose it was reported that a 
pistol had been fired at the king; voices rose 
high and loud, and the house became the 
scene of a regular tumult. Nevertheless, 
when the play commenced, the faithful "row- 
dies" who had been the heroes in the "Her- 
nani" fight vigorously endeavored to hold 
their own against the supporters of the old 
tragic style. 

"Le Roi s' Amuse" was more vehemently 
hissed than either "Hernani" or "Marion 
Delorme," and the press was absolutely mer- 
ciless in its criticisms. To such an extent 
were men's minds blinded by their literary 
fury that the very journals that were most 
libera] in their politics, and most opposed to 
Louis Philippe's government, sided against 
the poet, who at the same time lost several 



of the friends on whom he had thought he 
might most confidently rely. 

The very day after the performance the 
most astounding accusations were circulated, 
and some criticisms were published that 
might be described as comical in their se- 
verity. 

One critic, writing anonymously, complain- 
ed that he had hitherto failed in inducing M. 
Hugo to listen to truth ; and asserted that 
his productions revealed absolute weakness 
and sterility in their conception, and betray- 
ed a vicious system that, instead of leading 
to originality, only dragged him into the 
trivial and absurd. 

The writer continued: 

' ' M. Hugo in his former dramas, though 
verging on the grotesque, has hitherto pre- 
served some faint idea of the good and beau- 
tiful, some semblance of sentiment, of moral- 
ity and propriety. In ' Le Roi s' Amuse ' he 
has overstepped all bounds : history, reason, 
morality, artistic dignity, and refinement are 
all trampled underfoot. Such is his. prog- 
ress. . . . He traduces historical personages, 
such as FranQois I. and Clement Marot, the 
poet; . . . the conversation of the courtiers 
is far from edifying ; ... the whole piece is 
monstrous; history is set at nought, and the 
most noble characters are slandered and vil- 
ified. . . . The play is entirely void of inter- 
est, and the horrible, the mean, and the im- 
moral are all jumbled together into a kind 
of chaos. 

"The performance was scandalized by a 
madcap set of the author's partisans, who, in 
return for every hiss, shouted out 'Down 
with the idiots ! Turn out the fools!' This 
carefully organized band had been introduced 
into the house before the proper hour, and 
made it their business to applaud most what- ' 
ever the public received with most disgust. 
In spite, however, of the strenuous efforts of 
these extraordinary claqueurs, the hissing was 
so overpowering that M. Hugo's name was 
drowned in the tumult. Notwithstanding the 
utter failure of the piece, a second perform- 
ance is all the same announced for Thursday 
next." 

Such was the treatment accorded to what 
is now acknowledged to be one of the most 
admirable works of the modern stage, and 
one of the finest tragic poems that have ever 
been conceived. And it is with ill-disguised 
delight that the critic appends to his venom- 
ous article a postscript: 

"We learn this evening that the prime- 



YIOTOIi HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



107 



minister has issued an order to stop the per- 
formance of the piece." 

Incredible as it may seem, the intelligence 
was perfectly true. The constitutional mon- 
archy was acting in precisely the same way as 
the monarchy that ruled "by right divine." 

Academicians and deputies had betaken 
themselves with all speed to the minister, and 
informed him that "Le Roi s' Amuse" was 
not a simple outrage on good taste and pub- 
lic morality, it was absolutely indecent ; and, 
moreover, contained disrespectful allusions 
to Louis Philippe, and all this just at the 
very time when assassins were making a tar- 
get of his sacred head. 

The minister straightway summoned a 
council, and the council decided that such a 
scandal could not be tolerated. Hence it 
came to pass that just as Victor Hugo was 
going to breakfast he received the following 
note from M. Jouslin de la Salle, who had 
formerly been manager of the Porte-Saint- 
Martin, and was now manager of the Th§atre 

Francais : 

^ "iVot. 23. 

"It is now half -past ten, and I have just 
received orders to suspend the performances 
of ' Le Roi s' Amuse. ' M. Taylor has made 
the communication to me on behalf of the 
prime-minister. " 

It was Victor Hugo's first impression that 
there must be some mistake. Not being able 
to credit a proceeding that seemed at once so 
senseless and so overbearing, he ran to the 
theatre, but only to find the infoimation con- 
finned, and to be told that "the minister had 
given the order in virtue of his divine minis- 
terial right. There was no other reason to 
be alleged." 

The Comedie Fran9aise, whose proposal to 
submit his drama to the censorship Victor 
Hugo had indignantly rejected, were quite 
bewildered, and made some efforts to get the 
decision reversed; but all their attempts were 
utterly vain, as not only was the order of 
suspension confirmed, but a formal prohibi- 
tion was issued. The objectionable words 
' ' Le R oi s' Amuse" were to be erased from 
the play -bills" under the penalty of with- 
drawal of the license from the theatre. 

Thus deprived of his rights, and thwarted 
in his professional occupation, the poet was 
not going to humiliate himself by hanging 
about the doors of ministerial antechambers. 
He considered that to ask a favor of a power 
was to recognize its authority, and conse- 
<juently he resolved to make a wider appeal. 



Two tribunals were open to him : he would 
appeal to public opinion, and he would ap- 
peal to a court of justice. 

In a manifesto which he addressed to the 
public he writes : 

' ' It appears that those who appoint them- 
selves our censors profess to be scandalized 
by'Le Roi s' Amuse;' the piece has shocked 
the modesty of the gendarmes; the Leotaud 
brigade has voted it obscene ; the chamber oi 
morals has put its hands before its eyes, and 
M.Vidocqhas been made to blush. In short, 
the watchword that has been lisped for some 
days around us has now been given to tht> 
police — thepiece is immoral/ Come, my good 
sirs, and let us look into the matter. 

" Do you really believe there is any immo- 
rality in the play? Listen and see ! Tribou- 
let is deformed, he is sickly, and he is court 
fool ; this triple misfortune causes his weak- 
ness. Triboulet hates the king because he is 
a king, he hates the aristocracy because they 
are the aristocracy, and he hates men in gen- 
eral because they have not all got a hump 
upon their back. He depraves, corrupts, and 
brutalizes the king; he spurs him on to igno- 
rance, tyranny, and vice; he sets him loose 
in the bosoms of reputable families, pointing 
him out the wife to corrupt, the sister to se- 
duce, and the daughter to dishonor. One 
day, in the middle of some festival, just as he 
is urging the king to elope with the wife of 
M. de CosseJ M. de Saint -Vallier makes his 
way up to the monarch, and reproaches him 
with having dishonored Diane de Poitiers, 
his daughter. Triboulet commences insult- 
ing the parent whom the king has thus in- 
jured, and the father then raises his hand and 
utters a fearful curse. This is the turning- 
point of the piece. 

"Triboulet, upon whom the curse has thus 
fallen, is not, after all, a man utterly without 
heart. He has a daughter, Blanche, whom 
he has nurtured in a solitary house in a de- 
serted place far away from the eyes of the 
world. He is bringing her up in purity and 
faith and innocence. His great fear is lest 
she should fall into the wickedness, the mis- 
ery of which he knows so well. 

" Now it falls out that the curse of old De 
Saint -Vallier overtakes Triboulet through 
this one object of his love. The very king 
who has been encouraged in vileness by Tri- 
boulet seduces Triboulet's child. The fool is 
smitten by an avenging fate in exactly the 
same way as the man who cursed him had 
been smitten before him. 



108 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



" Then Triboulet lays a snare for the king, 
who has carried off his daughter, but into 
this the daughter falls and becomes a victim. 
Thus Triboulet has had two pupils — the 
monarch whom he has led into vice, .and his 
child whom he has educated in virtue — and 
the former becomes the destroyer of the lat- 
ter. The result happens in this way. In his 
design to carry off Madame de Cosse for the 
king, he carries off his own child ; and then, 
in attempting to avenge himself upon the 
royal seducer, he assassinates that child with 
his own hand. Vengeance is not stayed half- 
way — the curse of the father of Diane is ac- 
complished upon the father of Blanche. 

"Whether this idea is dramatic, it is not 
for me to decide. AU that I contend for is 
that it is not immoral." 

In a long preface, published on the last 
day of this month, after giving a dignified 
and wholesome caution to the ill-advised 
power, the poet goes on to say that the mat- 
ter must not be regarded as a petty literary 
coup d'etat, but must be considered as touch- 
ing the general property and liberty. In ac- 
cordance with tills, he announces his inten- 
tion to have the cause pleaded judicially, 
and to institute a suit before the Board of 
Trade: first, to compel the ThfiStre Franpais 
to perform " Le Roi s' Amuse;" and, second- 
ly, to compel the government to sanction the 
performance. 

The trial commenced on the 19th of De- 
cember, 1832. 

All the journals, and especially the Debats, 
record that large crowds assembled to hear 
the case. As early as nine o'clock in the 
morning hundreds of people stood waiting 
en queue in the galleries of the Palais de la 
Bourse, where the Board of Trade then held 
its sittings. 

The court was divided into four parts: the 
enclosure of the tribunal, which was general- 
ly filled with a select audience, chiefly com- 
posed of fashionably dressed ladies, assem- 
bled long before the hour of hearing; the 
bar, reserved for solicitors, barristers, and po- 
litical celebrities; the third part was a space 
into which some privileged spectators were 
admitted as into the pit of a theatre; while 
at the rear was the compartment allotted to 
the general public. 

At noon the doors were opened, and a few 
minutes sufficed to fill every corner to over- 
flowing. Even the hall of the Pas-Perdus, a 
spacious vestibule separated from the court 
by glass doors, was crowded with an eager 



multitude. As Victor Hugo entered with 
his counsel he was loudly cheered, the spec- 
tators mounting their seats to get a better 
view; and it was amid great excitement that , 
the offlclalSj-underlhe presidency of M.Aube, 
took their seats. ' 

The double action was then commenced. 
The first was Victor Hugo's claim upon the 
ThSatre Pranpais; the second was the de- 
mand for compensation by the Com6die 
Prangaise from M. d'Argout, the Minister of 
Trade and Public Works, as having jurisdic- 
tion over the theatres. 

M. Chaix d'Est-Ange opened the pleadingg:| 
as counsel' for the minister of the crowii. 
He commenced by proposing that the court 
should declare itself incompetent to give 
judgment in these proceedings, as it was not 
provided with powers of administration. 

Victor Hugo's counsel, M. Odilon Barrot, 
rose and opposed this motion in a brilliant 
speech. He described his client's mission 
as one of talent and of genius, and claimed : 
not only for him in particular, but for au- 
thors in general, the right of liberty of 
thought in the production of dramatic com- 
positions. He called forth protests and 
shouts of ironical laughter from the audi- 
ence by making the advocate of the Come- 
die Pran^aise read the document in which 
the Comte d'Argout had prohibited the per- 
formance of "Le Eoi s' Amuse," because 
"many passages therein were an outrage 
upon public morals;" and he reminded the 
court that the functions of the censorship 
had been abolished by charter in 1830, and 
how M. de Montalivet, the Minister of the 
Interior, had endorsed the scheme for the 
management of theatres with the sentence 
"The censorship is dead." He woimd up 
by claiming damages from the Comedie 
Prangaise for the non-fulfilment of their 
covenant. 

The reply of the counsel for the Comedie 
Prangaise produced such a tumult that the 
President had to order one section of the , 
court to be cleared and the adjoining vesti- 
bule to be closed. 

Victor Hugo then came forward, and in an 
effective speech, which he had prepared be- 
forehand, he argued that his suit had no oth- 4 
er origin than the illegal order of the minis- 
ter, an order which, as he had no right to 
make it, the stage had no call to follow. Af- 
ter asserting that the government was gradu- 
ally withdrawing from the Prench people 
rights and privileges which forty years of 




TEIBOULET IN " LE KOI S AMUSE. 



110 



riGTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



revolution had secured to them, he conclud- 
ed by saying : 

"To-day a censor deprives me of my lib- 
erty as a poet; to-morrow a gendarme will 
deprive me of my liberty as a citizen. To- 
day I am banished from the theatre; to-mor- 
row I shall be banished from the country. 
To-day I am gagged; to-morrow I shall be 
transported. To-day there is a state of siege 
in the commonwealth of letters; to-morrow 
there will be a state of siege in the city. No 
longer do we hear of privilege, of security, 
of the charter, or of the public rights. Noth- 
ing of the sort. But the government must 
listen to advice. It must stay its downward 
course; otherwise we shall soon have once 
more the despotism of 1807, barring its glory !" 

These iine and prophetic words were greet- 
ed with fresh bursts of applause. 

M. Chaix d'Est-Ange replied, and the court 
rose. 

As Victor Hugo passed through the wait- 
ing crowds on his way home, he was loudly 
cheered. 

A fortnight afterwards judgment was giv- 
en in favor of the minister. 

The poet was not in the least discouraged 
by the sentence, which was only what he had 
anticipated. Genius is patient; it is con- 
scious that it can afford to wait, and nothing 
can divert it from its course. 

M. Paul Poucher, in his interesting book 
" Entre Coxa at Jardin," has described how, 
on the night of the first performance of " Le 
Roi s'Amuse," when the whole theatre was 
in an uproar, so that Hugo's name was 
drowned in the sea of roaring voices, the au- 
thor's face exhibited no sign of despondency 
at the failure any more, than it had shown 
passion or excitement during the struggle. 
His Olympian brow had withstood the tem- 
pest with the firmness of a rock, and after 
the curtain fell he went to offer his thanks 
and encouragements to the actors and act- 
resses, saying, 

"You are a little discomposed to-night; 
but you will find it different the day after to- 
morrow!" 

In spite of the hissing, he was sanguine 
about his play; nevertheless, it was not des- 
tined to be repeated. 

" Hernani " had been performed fifty-three 
times, "Marion Delorme" sixty-one; "Le 
Roi s'Amuse " appeared once, and has never 
been put upon the stage again. Since his 
last return to Paris the poet has at various 
times been solicited to authorize its repro- 



duction; but, although he has offered no op- 
position, the performance has never taken 
place. The part of Triboulet is undoubted- 
ly very difficult, and it is feared might, over- 
task the powers of the actor; but, on the oth- 
er hand, it has been reported, though perhaps 
in mere gossip, that the r61e has been covet- 
ed by several performers of equal ability, 
and that tfteir mutual rivalry has created an 
impediment to the representation of the 
piece upon the stage. It is to be trusted, 
however, that the obstacle, whatever it is, 
will not prove to be insurmountable, and 
that there will be a chance before long of 
witnessing a ehef-d'muvre that succumbed 
originally to an attack at once so violent and 
so ridiculous. 

The ministerial organs in Prance in 1833 
were by no means satisfied with the final 
prohibition of the play. Irritated beyond 
measure by Victor Hugo's proud and defiant 
attitude, the official journals began to load 
him with reproaches because he continued to 
receive the original pension of two thousand 
francs which had been granted to him as well 
as to Lamartine. 

We have already seen how the poet, as a 
matter of conscience, had declined accepting 
the increase of pension offered by Charles X. 
as compensation for the interdiction of "Ma- 
rion Delorme." Hitherto, however, he had ex- 
perienced no scruples as to the propriety of 
his receiving pecuniary assistance from the 
nation, and it was only in consequence of 
many virulent attacks in certain newspapers 
that he sent a letter, marked by moderation 
and reserve, but still full of dignity, in which 
he tendered his resignation of the pension. 
M. d'Argout remonstrated with him, but he 
adhered to his resolution, and refused to re- 
ceive the money any longer, although at that 
time his resources were far from consider- 
able. 

His line of action, magnanimous as it was, 
did not have much effect in mitigating the 
severity of his reviewers. Nevertheless, al- 
though they continued to depreciate his pow- 
er as a dramatic author, they began to do 
some justice to him as a poet; and one of his- 
most inveterate enemies, Gustave Planche, 
was fain to acknowledge that in manip- 
ulation of language "Victor Hugo is unri- 
valled, because he wields the French idiom 
at his will; he forges it as solid as iron, he 
tempers it like steel, he engraves it as silver, 
he moulds it like bronze, he chisels it as mar- 
ble; the blades of Toledo are not keener. 



VICT OH HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Ill 



nor the mosaics of Florence more delicate, 
than the verses which his skilful workman- 
ship has produced." 

And Planche, hard and spiteful as he often 
is, has said even more; he has owned that 
when he witnessed Triboulet's grief in the 
play he was overcome with admiration and 
moved to tears; and what stronger testimo- 
ny than such a confession could be rendered 
in praise of a dramatist whose leading aim it 
was to excite the emotions of his audience? 

The violence of the outcry against Victor 
Hugo's last work had no permanent eileet in 
discouraging the theatrical managers, and be- 
fore the end of 1833 M. Ilarel sought the 
author's permission to perform his drama, 
hitherto unpuljlished, of "Le Souper a Fer- 
rare," the title originally given to " Lucrice 
Borgia." 

M. Harel's company at that time included 
Frederic Lemaltre and Mile. Georges. This 
lady, though no longer young, having been 
born in 1786, still retained an extraordinary 
beauty. Not only had she a figure which 
might have enraptured Phidias, but her mar- 
vellous form was animated b,y intelligence, 
passion, and genius; a true soul underlay her 
chiselled grace. Frederick Lemaitre, too, 
was in the zenith of his talent. 

The proposal was accepted, and, Delafosse 
taking the part of Don Alphonse d'Este, and 
Mile. Juliette that of the Princess Negroni, 
the rehearsals commenced forthwith. 

Every rehearsal was made with closed 
doors, and the author declined admitting 
even his brother Abel to the dress rehearsal 
on the night preceding the first public per- 
formance. The slightest indiscretion was 
Itnown to be enough to feed the fury of 
Hugo's traducers, and he wished to avoid 
any of the scenes of his drama being hawked 
about the city and made the subject of ridi- 
cule. He could not, however, find it in his 
heart to resist the entreaties of Sainte-Beuve, 
who always professed himself the most sin- 
cere and devoted of friends. Having ob- 
tained permission to witness the rehearsal, 
he came, listened most attentively, congratu- 
lated the author most warmly on his produc- 
tion, and then went out and circulated it 
everywhere that "Lucrfece Borgia" was an 
utter piece of absurdity. 

The incident was but a type of this man's 
character. It was solely due to his treachery 
and infamous gossip that on the morning of 
the day on which the piece was to be per- 
formed in the evening, several newspapers 



announced that they were in possession of 
the plot, and that the whole production was 
in the highest degree obscene, depicting or- 
gies terrible and indecent beyond conception. 

In spite of everything, however, the per- 
formance was a complete triumph ; not only 
was the name of the author received with ac- 
clamation, but he was summoned by the au- 
dience to appear before the curtain, though 
to this, notwithstanding M. Harel's entreaties, 
he refused to consent. The crowd then 
awaited his departure from the theatre, stop- 
ped the cab in which he was riding, and com- 
pelled him to return home on foot escorted 
by hundreds of admirers cheering him as he 
went. 

Faithful to his compact with himself, Vic- 
tor Hug(3 had returned to art as the devotion 
of his life; indeed, he had recommenced his 
labor before he had quite settled with the 
petty political adversaries who did their ut- 
most to distract; within six months after one 
drama had been proscribed he was ready 
with another, thus demonstrating to the gov- 
ernment that its hostility had been in vain, 
and that art and liberty can, as it were, spring 
up in a night, though a clumsy foot should 
trample them down. Henceforth it should 
be his resolve to continue his political strug- 
gle simultaneously with his literary toil; he 
would maintain his public rights without 
giving up his private pursuits. Man has two 
hands, he said; one must fulfil one task, and 
one another. 

In forming his own estimate of the dramas 
that he had last finished, Victor Hugo vent- 
ured to predict that some da}' ' ' Le Roi 
s'Amuse" would prove to be the principal 
political era, and " Lucrece Borgia " the prin- 
cipal literary era, of his life, asserting that the 
two works, though different in form and de- 
sign, were in reality the outcome of the same 
idea. 

Both represent deformities — the one physi- 
cal and hideous; but Triboulet, miserable as 
he is, has a soul, and in that soul exists the 
purest sentiment that appertains to man, 
paternal love — a power that transforms his 
degraded nature into something that approx- 
imates to the sublime. 

"Lucrfice Borgia" represents a deformity 
no less complete and equally repulsive; but 
hers is a moral deformity, and yet it is re- 
lieved by the purest sentiment that apper- 
tains to woman, maternal love. 

These are his words : 

"Embody a mother even within a monster. 



112 



VICT OB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



and the monster "will not fail to excite inter- 
est, and may be sympatliy. . . . Physical de- 
formity, sanctified by paternal love, this is 
what you have in ' Le Roi s'Amuse ;' moral 
deformity, purified by maternal love, this is 
■what you find in 'Lucrece Borgia.' " 

Convinced that social problems are by no 



pict the misery to which humanity is heir. It 
is fitting that the veil of some serious and 
consoling thought should be thrown over the 
naked truth, which in itself would be too 
painful to contemplate. 

Nowadays -no one fails to discern the 
l^hilosophy of Victor Hugo's dramatic 




MLLE. GEORGJiS AS LUCKilCE BORGIA. 



means independent of literary matters, Victor 
Hugo has consistently maintained that an 
audience ought never to be allowed to leave 
a theatrical spectacle without carrying away 
some instinct of morality both deep and stern ; 
but, at the same time, whenever it becomes 
necessary to lay open the wounds and to de- 



works, but the triumph of "LucrSce Bor- 
gia " was unquestionably a memorable epoch 
in his career. He was then thirty years of age. 
But the enthusiasm of the general public 
had not by any means the effect of bringing 
the classics to consider themselves defeated. 
Armand Carrel remained inflexibly among 



VICTOR nUOO AND HIS TIME. 



113 



the ranks of the irreconcilablcs, and criticised 
the play somewhat captiously, although he 
could not help acknowledging that it was 
skilfully put together, and that it was in gen- 
eral conformity with historical tradition, in- 
asmuch as " Lucrece Borgia" was the true 
Lucrecc of the legend, having the mingled 



is one in verse which should hardly be passed 
over in silence, if only on account of its mer- 
cilessness. It was by Destigny, whose name 
we have already hud occasion to mention. 
The vindictive poet, in his angry indignation, 
commences by designating Victor Hugo as 
"A Homer waitiiii^ ou u harlot's will;" 



«v 



* '•J 




MLLE. JULIETTE AS PllINCBSS NEGRONI. 



blood of the courtesan and of the pope flow- and, not satisfied with this shameful appella 
ing in her veins. 

Parodies, of course, did not fail to be forth- 
coming, but none of them were worthy of 
special notice. 

Among the satires, however, that were pub- 
lished after the performance of the drama there 



tion, proceeds to say, 

' Behold the produce of your mediieval stage ! 
Lust and adultery it couusels to oiir age. 
In mercy's uanie, no more these ancient crimes ex- 
hume, 
But leave the Borgias in their own polluted tomb 1 



114 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Of this be sure, ye playwrights infamous and vile, 
'Tis yoQ that all our women and our youth defile." 

The author had the satisfaction of bestow- 
ing his unqualified approval upon all the in- 
terpreters of his work. He congratulated 
Frederic Lemaitre, whose easy yet dignified 
grace, terrible yet tender, manly yet childlike, 
modest yet severe, had fully realized the Gen- 
uaro of his own conception. He tendered 
his acknowledgments to Mile. Georges, who, 
in vengeance, in chastisement, and in insult, 
was ever the great tragedienne ; and he com- 
plimented Mile. Juliette, who, though she 
merely represented an apparition, threw such 
vivid animation into the beautiful counte- 
nance of the young Princess Negroni, and 
gave such force to the few words she had 
to utter, that she revealed a talent that was 
conspicuous in spirit, passion, and truth. 

It was long since the TheStre de la Porte- 
Saint-Martin had realized profits so large, 
and the manager lost no time in claiming an- 
other piece from the author. His demand, 
however, was made in such a way as not only 



to excite the anger of Victor Hugo, but the 
quarrel became so violent that a duel was de- 
termined upon. 

Happily, while the seconds were arranging 
the details of meeting, the parties came to 
terms. M. Harel acknowledged himself in 
the wrong, but still held to his claim for a 
new drama. Victor Hugo acquiesced in the 
demand, and at the end of August the iras- 
cible manager was informed that ' ' Marie 
Tudor " had been completed, and that it was 
quite at his service. 

Before concluding this notice of ' ' LucrSce 
Borgia, " or rather of its first performance (for 
the reproduction of Victor Hugo's dramas 
will have to be recorded subsequently), it 
should be mentioned that an opera called 
" Lucrezia Borgia " was performed in Milan, 
at the Teatro della Scala, in 1834. It was 
afterwards introduced at the Theatre Italien, 
in Paris, when Victor Hugo was obliged to 
assert his claim to the copyright. 

A similar ditHculty afterwards arose about 
' ' Ernani," but the matter was settled amicably. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



115 



CHAPTER XV. 

'Mni'ie Tudor." — Mile. Georges,— "Aiigelo." — Rivalry between Mile. Mara ami Madame Dorval. — "La 
Esmeralda." — Fatality.- "Buy Bias." — M. Auguste Vncquerie at tiie First Peiformauce. — " Les Bur- 
graves." — Victor Hugo's Determination. — Unpublished Works. — Underhand Dealings of Tragic Writers. 
— M.Ponsard's "Lucrece." — Love on the Classic Stage.— Literai-y Types. — A .Successful Lawsuit. 



Originally entitled ' ' Marie d' AngleteiTe, " 
the play of "Mario Tudor" was performed 
at the Porte-Saint-Martin on the 6th of No- 
vember, 1833. 

This important piece cannot be analyzed 
here, but it must sufHce to say that its inter- 
est as an historical drama concentrates itself 
"upon the terrible reality of the formidable 
trio so often found in history, and here so 
fully depicted — a queen, a favorite, and an 
executioner." 

The play, which covers a period of three 
days, is in prose. It is touching, full of bold 
and novel incident, and presents a striliing 
picture of the civil discords in England at 
the time. 

M. Harel, the manager, threw repeated ob- 
stacles in the way of its production; but in 
spite of the hisses that never failed to be 
the accompaniment of Victor Hugo's "first 
nights," the piece turned out a complete suc- 
cess. 

Mile. Georges played Marie with all her 
wonted fire and talent. In his Notices Bomaii- 
fe'gKtfs,Theophile Gautier eulogizes her acting 
in this way : "It is with ever dazzled be- 
wilderment that we recall the smile with 
which she opened the second act, as she lay 
half reclining on a pile of cushions, dressed 
in orange-colored velvet slashed with silver 
brocade, her royal hand lightly touching the 
brown curls of Fabiano Fabiani, who knelt 
at her side. Her pearl-white profile stood 
out from a rich and sombre background ; she 
seemed to glitter, and, as it were, to be bathed 
in light ; her beauty flashed with brilliant 
gleams, and presented the perfect personifica- 
tion of power inebriated by love. Before she 
uttered a word, thunders of applause were 
heard from the pit to the roof of the house." 

But this applause was not long maintained. 
The piece had not proceeded much further 
when Mile. Georges was vehemently hissed, 
as was also Mile. Juliette, who took the part 
of Jane. 



Yet in spite of this adverse reception, and 
in defiance, moreover, of the ridicule of Gus- 
tavo Blanche and his brother critics, the piece 
continued to draw, the proceeds being very 
satisfactorj', and the representations numer- 
ous. 

Nearly eighteen months now elapsed be- 
fore Victor Hugo had another drama read}' 
for the stage; but on the 28th of April, 1835, 
"Angelo," also in prose, was produced at the 
Theatre Fran^ais. In this drama the author 
has said that it was his design to depict two 
sad but contrasted characters — the woman in 
society, and the woman out of society. The 
one he has endeavored to deliver from des- 
potism, the other he has striven to defend 
from contempt; he has shown the tempta- 
tions resisted by the virtue of the one, and 
the tears shed over her guilt by the other; he 
has cast blame where blame is due — upon 
man in his strength, and upon society in its 
absurdity. In contrariety to the two women, 
he has delineated two men, the husband and 
the lover, one a sovereign and one an out- 
law, and by various subordinate methods has 
given a sort of summary of the relations, 
regular and irregular, in which a man can 
stand with a woman, on the one hand, and. 
with society in general, on the other. 

In all the dramatic works of this great 
writer, which are invariably as full of In- 
struction as they are thrilling in interest, it 
is ever by the method of social antithesis 
that he proceeds to his point. Every scene 
of this masterpiece of skill is overflowing 
with passion, and is written in a vivid and 
sparkling style. It was a triumph alike for 
author and actor. Incidents succeed one an- 
other with rapidity, and are as startling in 
their ingenuity as they are natural in their 
power and touching in their p: 'hos. 

Besides moving its audience alternately to 
shouts of applause and tears of sympathy, 
"Angelo" was the cause of a bitter rivalry 
between Mile. Mars and Madame Dorval. 



116 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Madame Dorval, who had so much de- 
lighted the poet by her magnificent interpre- 
tation of "Marion Delorme," happened to 
be disengaged at the time, and Victor Hugo 
succeeded in obtaining her services for tlae 
Comedie Fran^aise, to undertalie the part of 
Catarina in the forthcoming piece. Lilie 
Frederic Lemaitre, Madame Dorval could 
personify romantic genius, and to a certain 
extent realized the ideal of the writers of the 
Renaissance. Her feeling, her fire, and en- 
thusiasm would always bring down the 
house. Her cry of distress had all the poig- 
nancy of truth; her sobs were heart-rending, 
her intonation so natural, and her tears so 
perfect in their counterfeited sincerity, that 
the stage seemed to be utterly forgotten, and 
it appeared incredible that her agony was 
only simulated. Her talent was essentially 
modern; she actually lived in the ideas, the 
passions, the loves, the errors, of her time ; 
as a dramatist, rather than a tragedienne, she 
followed the fortunes of the literary reform- 
ers, and thus found herself in the right 
place. 

It may easily be imagined that Mile. Mars, 
never remarkable for either amiability or 
good temper, took considerable umbrage at 
this introduction of so formidable a rival; 
the ' ' tragedienne " of long-estabUshed renown 
conducted herself with intolerable haughti- 
ness towards the rising "dramatist," and to 
such an extent did her insolence increase 
during the period of the rehearsals that Vic- 
tor Hugo was compelled to interfere. Mile. 
Mars only gave in when seriously threatened 
witli the withdrawal of her role; but when- 
ever she found herself in tlie presence of an 
audience all her rancor was totally forgot- 
ten, and, notwithstanding the absurd head- 
gear which she persisted in wearing, she 
always succeeded in meriting the ovation 
which, as well as her rival, she was sure to 
obtain. Rachel, in later days, gained one of 
her grand triumphs in the part now under- 
taken by Mile. Mars. 

Shortly after the success of "Angelo," 
Victor Hugo, at the request of several of his 
friends, made up from his romance "Notre 
Dame de Paris" the libretto of an opera 
called "La Esmeralda," of which the music, 
composed by Mile. Bertin, the daughter of 
the editor of the Journal des BebaU, was 
hissed on its performance at the Royal Acad- 
emy on the 14th of November, 1836. 

The libretto, which was full of poetry, life, 
and passion, ended with the word ' ' fatality. " 



Madame Victor Hugo has pointed out 
that, curiously enough, the first crushing 
failure was not the only fatality attending a 
work of which M. Nourrit and Mile, Falcon 
were the executants, a lady of recognized 
talent the composer, Victor Hugo the libret- 
tist, and "Notre Dame de Paris" the sub- 
ject. The fatality seemed to pursue the 
very actors ; Mile. Falcon lost her voice ; M. 
Nourrit shortly afterwards committed sui- 
cide in Italy. About the same time, too, a 
vessel called the "Esmeralda," on her pas- 
sage from England to Ireland, foundered 
with all her crew ; and a valuable mare with 
the same ill-starred name, belonging to the 
Due d'Orleans, ran foul of a horse in a 
steeple-chase and sustained a fracture of the 
skull. 

As nearly as possible two years had elapsed 
when, on the 8th of November, 1838, Victor 
Hugo brought out " Ruy Bias" at the Re- 
naissance, a theatre that had been built by 
royal permission for the special benefit of 
the romantic school. The drama, which was 
in verse and in five acts, had been written 
during the previous July and the early part 
of August; its moral contemplates the yearn- 
ing of the population for higher things; its 
human subject is the passion of a man for a 
woman ; its dramatic point the love of a 
lackey for a queen. 

This play (to which, with others that were 
afterwards produced with better success, we 
shall have to refer again) was at first the 
subject of as much contention as any that 
preceded it. Notwithstanding that Frede- 
ric Lemaitre devoted his best powers to the 
part of Ruy Bias, the valet and minister be- 
loved of the queen, the piece was performed 
scarcely more than fifty times, being persist- 
ently hissed on every occasion. 

M, Auguste Vacquerie travelled between 
200 and 300 miles in order to be present at 
the first performance. He had known Vic- 
tor Hugo for some time, and, like Paul 
Meurice and Paul Toucher, he remained 
among the number of his intimate and most 
devoted friends ; but, at that time, the devo- 
tion and admiration of men of letters seemed 
utterly unable to prevail against the corrupt 
taste of the multitude. Years had yet to 
elapse before the poet's immortal works were 
appreciated according to their merits, and 
assigned the glory they can never lose. The 
struggle was long and fierce, but the deci- 
sive victory that he ultimately achieved has 
long consoled him for the injustice that he 



118 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



suffered at the hands of the contemporaries 
of his youth. 

Not until 1843 did any fresh work appear 
on the stage from Victor Hugo's pen ; but on 
the 8th of March in that year "Les Bur- 
graves " was produced at tlie Comedie Fran- 
(jaise, being the last of his dramas that he al- 
lowed to be performed. The splendid trilo- 
gy, in respect of which the poet might fitly 
be compared to ^schylus, was destined to 
be unappreciated throughout. JSschylus, 
the first of Greek tragedians, after he had 
long stirred the emotions of the Athenians, 
was finally deserted by them ; they preferred 
Sophocles to him; and, full of dejection, he 
went into exile, saying, ' ' I dedicate my 
works to Time." And Time at last did him 
ample justice, though he did not live to en- 
joj' his triumph. 

Like jEschylus, Victor Hugo had now to 
find out that the people of Paris had discov- 
ered a Sophocles for themselves in the per- 
son of Ponsard, who proved to be a poet of 
very mediocre talents. His " LucrSce " was 
being played at this date, and a certain clique 
were lauding its success, in order to insure 
the failure of " Les Burgraves." 

After the performance of ' ' Lucrfece, " Jules 
.Janin had introduced Ponsard to Lamartine, 
who received the new-comer very kindly. 
De Lacretelle thus writes upon the subject: 

"It was quite an event. Hugo, Lamar- 
tine, Vigny, and Sainte-Beuve had long been 
recognized as the leaders of the romantic 
party, to which we youngsters were all at- 
tached. Our instincts had drawn us on tow- 
ards the beautiful, and we had become the 
slaves of Shakespeare, whose power was re- 
vealed to us in the brilliancies of 'Hernani,' 
'Marion Delorme,' 'Le Roi s' Amuse,' and 
' Ru}' Bias. ' Now the classic party, having 
discovered some beauties in 'Lucrfice,' were 
making an effort to avenge their dethrone- 
ment by exaggerating these beauties, and, as 
a consequence, by trying to elevate Ponsard 
in opposition to Hugo; to keep to a consti- 
tutional monarch, instead of acknowledging 
a Charlemagne. Our own love of liberty 
was expressed in our romantic creed. We 
were indignant with Lamartine for patroniz- 
ing Ponsard, and we were sorely tempted to 
bring against him the overt charge of desert- 
ing our cause. Happy times! in which the 
onljf civil war that raged was between the 
party which observed the three unities, and 
that which set them at defiance. But such 
were Lamartine's estimable qualities as a 



man, and his genius as a poet, that we soon 
got over our annoyance, and gradually for- 
gave him for regarding Ponsard with fa- 
vor."* 

This confession on the part of one of La- 
martine's most devoted admirers gives a 
very good idea of the state of public feeling 
at the time of the representation of "Les 
Burgraves." The classics lifted up their 
heads again at the appearance of Ponsard, 
and it is imiDossible to withhold an expres- 
sion of regi-et that Lamartine's name should 
be associated with their efforts at revival. 

Considerably disturbed at the resuscitated 
vitality of their classic rivals, Auguste Vac- 
querie and Paul Meurice set themselves to 
work to reorganize the youthful alliance of 
1830, going for that purijose to Celestin Nan- 
teuil, and asking him for "three hundred 
Spartans ready to conquer or die in defend- 
ing their Thermopylaj against the hordes of 
the barbarians." 

Nanteuil, who had been a bold champion 
in all the battles that had been fought, shook 
his long hair and sighed. Turning to Vac- 
querie, he said, 

" Go, tell your master that there are no 
young men now; to enroll three hundred 
would be utterly impossible!" 

He was right; the rising generation had 
ceased to be enamoured of poetry ; they had 
begun to think about getting rich, rapidly 
becoming ' ' emboyrgeoises. " 

Although the talent of the author may be 
said to have reached its apogee in this work, 
which may be declared to be Titanic in its 
power, yet the representation of "Les Bur- 
graves " was not allowed to proceed without 
perpetual excitement ; jeers and hisses never 
ceased to mingle with the applause. The 
piece was only performed thirty times. 

Very sharp were the criticisms both in the 
Re.Bue cles Deux Mondes and the Gazette de 
France, neither of which could forgive M. 
Hugo for putting forward indepehdent views 
in politics. Only two journals spoke favor- 
ably of the work — the Messager, in which M. 
fidouard Thierry maintained that the poet 
was being driven from the stage, just as men 
of mark were ostracized by the Athenians 
when they were weary of them; and the 
Presse, in wtich Theophile Gautier wrote to 
this effect: 

' ' What marvellous ability it has demanded 
thus to revive an epoch that had faded in the 

* Henri de Lacietelle's " Lamartine et ses Amis." 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



119 



obscurity of the past I "What a gigantic effort , 
nerved with the vigor of an arcliitect of tlie 
Middle Ages, it has talcen to build up the im- 
pregnable fortress, with its walls traversed 
by gloomy galleries, its vaults thrilling in 
their mj'stery, its ancient family portraits, 
and its suits of armor that murmur still so 
strangely, as if they continued to be haunted 
by the forms that wore them! What won- 
drous power of imagination was necessary to 
blend the legendary phantoms with living 
persons, and to supply appropriate discourse 
to imperial lips ! In our day there is no one 
except M. Hugo who is capable of giving the 
epic tone to three great acts, or of maintain- 
ing their lyric swing. . . . Every moment 
seems to produce a magnificent verse that re- 
sounds like the stroke of an eagle's wing, and 
exalts us to the supremest height of lyric po- 
etry. The play is diversified in tone, and 
displays a singular flexibility of rhythm, mak- 
ing its transitions from the tender to the ter- 
rible, from the smile to the tear, with a happy 
facility that no other author has attained." 

This judgment has now become the uni- 
versal judgment of posterity, but at that time 
the storm of contention was so violent that 
Victor Hugo felt it useless to contend against 
it, and resolved that he would bring out no 
more dramas on the stage. He has kept 
steadfastly to his resolution, and none of his 
then unpublished works liave since been per- 
formed ; and when it is submitted to him that 
there is no fear left of any hisses being heard 
now, and that he ought not to deprive the 
world of any of the productions of his genius, 
his answer is invariably the same. He says, 

"My decision is final. Under no pretext 
shall any more of my plays appear on the 
stage during mj' life." 

The pieces of which we speak are locked 
away with some other manuscripts in an iron 
chest, and only a few favored friends have 
had the privilege of hearing them read by the 
master in his own rare and perfect manner. 
They are caljed ' ' Torquemada, " " La Grand'- 
m6re," "L'Epee," and "Peut-etre Frere de 
Garoche ;" and there is likewise a pantomime, 
' ' La Forgt Mouillee, " in which trees and flow- 
ers are made to talk. 

Having indicated the philosophical range 
of Victor Hugo's dramatic writings, it yet re- 
mains for us to point out how they brought 
about, to a certain extent, the revival of the 
representation of love upon the stage. 

Charles Nodier, in epitomizing the literary 
history of the classic period previous to 1830, 



has remarked that love had come to play a 
most unimportant part, and that since Mal- 
herbe, "whose appearance might very well 
have been dispensed with, " the classical school 
had exhibited a positive antipathy to that 
sentiment; and in his own discriminating way 
this able critic goes on to observe that except 
in a few scenes by Moliere, a small number 
of effusions by La Fontaine, some outbursts 
of Phfedre and of Ariadne, and some tears of 
Andromache, some fine passages in the ' ' Cid, " 
and a magnificent hemistich by Sertorius, the 
classics had made it clear that they under- 
stood no more of love than of liberty. 

And in his own brilliant style Nodier ex- 
presses his indignation that a literature based 
upon the poetry of love should no longer be 
understood bj' its natural interpreters; and 
he inquires, with considerable warmth, how 
it had happened that metaphysics, affected 
rather than subtle, had been introduced by 
people of culture into the affairs of the heart, 
and why sentiment had grown as pedantic as 
the philosophy of the Encyclopaedists, and 
whence had come the voluptuousness as foul 
and brutal as the spintJirees of the Parc-aux- 
Cerfs. Convinced in his own mind that love 
had no longer any part in the literary pro- 
ductions of the present century, just as it had 
no part in the marriages of the middle classes, 
he went on to atfirm that it had taken refuge 
among "the people" — that asylum for all 
elevated human thought that society rejects, 
because it is among the people that all the 
elements of civilization are preserved, devel- 
oped, and reanimated, even as it is in the 
earth that the germs are concealed which re- 
new the blossoms of the spring. 

With Romanticism, and with Victor Hugo 
as its representative, love found its regenera- 
tion. Its heroes were taken from the people, 
and inspired with the passions of the people ; 
they were the "Hernani," the "Marion De- 
lorme," and the "Euy Bias" of the stage. 
These are characters that live and weep and 
suif er with a common humanitj' ; as such they 
have become types — that is to say, they are the 
embodiment of a truth, the expression of an 
idea, and at the same time the sign of a creation. 

Now creation, or invention, is the stamp of 
genius. The commonplace artist simply cop- 
ies; the true artist gives animation to an in- 
dividual being by making it the representa- 
tive of an entire group. The classics were 
reproducing the types of antiquity, copying 
their models with unvarying precision; there 
was to them only the one ideal of beauty in 



'■i§ 



120 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



literature as in painting ; and, consecrated as 
that was by the admiration of ages, they did 
not venture to aclcnowledge any other. Why 
should they desist, they asked, from admiring 
what the world had never ceased to admire 
before? 

Thus the road to success was to be subser- 
vient to the established taste, and to run 
along the common groove. To deviate from 
the accustomed path was only to court insult 
and derision. 

But the romantics had the audacity to 
brave that derision. They saw that the time 
was come for producing something new, even 
at the risk of rendering themselves liable to 
indecorous violation of custom; they were 
persuaded that the national genius should no 
longer be denied the exercise of that facultj^ 
of invention in which it was so especially 
strong, declaring that liberty should not be to 
them a mere empty sound, however much it 
had been disputed hitherto — sometimes in 
the name of Aristotle and the Greeks, some- 
times in the name of the Sorbonne, tlie Uni- 
versity, or the Academy, and sometimes in the 
name of Liberty herself. It is for Victor 
Hugo that Charles Nodier goes on to claim 
the honor of being, after Rabelais and Mo- i 
liSre, one of the most original geniuses that \ 
French literature ever saw; but his talent 
was of the very kind that explains the aver- 
sion with which he was regarded by the in- 
capables who, by their intrigues, contrived to 
hold their own, and to prevent his produc- 
tions from being performed on the stage. 

Political chicanery had much to do with 
the literary persecution; and in reference to 
this Victor Hugo remarks how strange it was 
that the prejudices, feuds, and plots that he 
had to encounter should have such solidity 
that they could be piled up into a barricade 
that should effectually close the door of a 
theatre. 

It was a barricade, however, upon the dem- 
olition of which Victor Hugo was determined. 
It remained undisturbed through the earlier 
years of Louis Philippe's reign ; but in 1837 
the poet commenced another suit before the 
Board of Trade to compel the Comedie Fran- 
Qaise to complete their engagements with him 
by performing his plaj^s, and to compensate 
him for the long delay in producing them. 

M. Paillard de Villeneuve was Victor 



Hugo's counsel, and acquitted himself well. 
He pointed out the injustice of a theatre sup- 
ported by the State becoming the monopoly 
of a clique ; he detailed all the particulars of 
the covenant which had been made between 
the Comedie Fran^aise and the plaintiff ; he 
denounced the party-spirit that had threat- 
ened to withdraw the Slate grant if the "in- 
novators" were allowed to have their way; 
and he concluded by asserting that no pieces 
had ever realized greater profits, and that 
even now, while they were prohibited in 
France, they were drawing large and appre- 
ciative audiences in London, in Vienna, in 
Madrid, in Valladolid, in Moscow — in short, 
everywhere except in Paris. ' 

Following his counsel, Victor Hugo rose 
and made a few extempore remarks, to show 
how the manager of the Theatre Fran9ais 
had applied for his pieces, but now had al- 
lowed it to be seen that he had two faces, or 
rather two masks — one of which he wore to 
deceive authors, and the other to delude jus- 
tice. 

Judgment was given in his favor. The 
Board sentenced the Comedie Frangaise to 
jiay 6000 francs as damages, and bound the 
company over to perform "Hernani," "Ma- 
rion Delornie," and "Angelo" without fur- 
ther delay. 

Against this judgment an appeal was lodged 
before the Royal Court in December; and 
when the matter came on for trial, Victor 
Hugo pleaded in person, and represented that 
a small clique, in ambush behind the Minis- 
ter of the Interior, was putting forth its en- 
ergies to keep the stage closed against a new 
and rising school of literature, simply for no 
other reason except that the new school en- 
tertained ideas that were not in accordance 
with their own. 

Amid a general expression of approval, the 
court upheld the previous judgment, dismiss- 
ing the appeal. In this way justice at last 
asserted her right in opposition to the minis 
terial clique. 

"Hernani" was the first of the disputed 
pieces to be reproduced. It was universally 
applauded; and, in order to account for the 
favor with which it was received, a classic 
critic issued a review to the effect that Victor 
Hugo, the author, had altered nearly every 
line! 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



131 



CHAPTER XVI. 

'Les Orieutnles." — A Portrait of Victor lingo. —Respect Inspired by tho Pait. — Changes of Eesidence 

The House in the Hue Jean-Gonjon.— An Attempt at Mnrder.— The Revue des Deux Mu7uks.—M. Buloz.— 
M. Xavier Murmier. —Domestic Life. — " Les Fcnilles d'Autonine." — Manuscripts. — "Les Chants du 
UrL'puscule."— " Les Voix Intiirieiires.— " Les Eayons et les Ombies." 



Thus did Victor Hugo achieve the triumph 
of liberty for literature; hereafter he would 
become the champion of liberty in politics. 
AU that he did and all that he spoke had but 
one single aim — the emancipation of the hu- 
man race. 

With the object of combining into a con- 
tinuous narrative the account of what Victor 
Hugo calls his "attempt at drama," we have 
collected his various plays into a group b}- 
themselves, but for this jturpose have been 
led to depart somewhat from the chronologi- 
cal order of his publications. It will conse- 
quently be necessary now to go back a few 
years to take his IjTical compositions into 
review. 

"Les Orientales" first appeared in 1829. 
These poems, with their bright and sparkling 
color, mark what we may call the poet's sec- 
ond lyric style ; they are a series of Eastern 
visions, full of imagery as bright as it is pure. 
The cadence of their rhyme is full of harmo- 
ny, and beneath the skill of the artist's hand 
the Oriental landscapes spring forth to life; 
while simultaneously the poet extols the 
most generous sentiments, the love of inde- 
pendence and the spirit of patriotism. 

After describing Navarino and the light- 
ning, he passes with a charming facility from 
the proud demand of the Greek child for am- 
munition to the idj'Uic reveries of " Sara la 
Baigneuse;" and, as a reviewer has pointed 
out, "never had the material aspect of things 
been so vividly depicted, and never had 
French versification exhibited such pictu- 
resqueness, grace, and melody." 

The author of " Les Orientales " has been 
reproved for drawing an East that is entire- 
ly imaginary, having nothing real or histori- 
cal in its character. Asked what was the 
good of the book, he replied that he really 
did not know; he had only to say that the 
idea had entered his head one summer even- 
ing as he was watching the sunset at Vanves, 
according to his wont, and that he was not 



aware that there was any forbidden fruit in 
the garden of poetry. 

Criticism, however, did not prevent the vol- 
ume from reaching a seventh edition in the 
cour,se of a few weeks: it was the tirst work 
in which the author gave free scope to his 
imagination, while retaining his own peculiar 
style. One reviewer has observed that the 
poetry might fairly be likened to the Gothic 
architecture of the fifteenth century, being 
ornate, fanciful, and florid; and that its diver- 
sity, embracing every form of conception 
from the love-ballad to the war-song, vindi- 
cates the claim for the author that he had 
never been surpassed in flexibility and fertil- 
itj' of thought. 

The appearance of the book redoubled the 
admiration felt for Victor Hugo by his disci- 
ples; and in the following year Theophile 
Gautier, the most enthusiastic of them all, 
begged for an introduction to the "grand 
chef." His account of the interview, which 
he has written in his own fashion, is worth 
recording, as giving a characteristic portrait 
of the poet at this period. He writes, in his 
"Notices Romantiques:" 

"After all our battles in his behalf, we felt 
that such an introduction was little short of 
our right,and it could readilj- be accomplish- 
ed, as either Gerard de Nerval or Petrus Bo- 
rel would take us to the house. But, to say 
the truth, we were overpowered with shy- 
ness at the thought of our wish being act- 
ually fulfilled, so that it was a sort of re- 
lief to find, from time to time, that some- 
thing had occurred to prevent our keeping 
the appointment with Gerard or Petrus. 
The very delay enabled us to breathe more 
freel.y. 

' ' Twice did we mount his staircase, our 
feet dragging as if they were shod with lead ; 
in our excitement, the sweat stood upon our 
brow; we laid our hand upon the knocker 
and our terror became too much for us ; we 
turned, and, taking four stairs at a time. 



132 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



made a hurried retreat, our friends mean- 
while standing and laughing at our alarm. 

' ' But the third attempt proved more suc- 
cessful. Having gained a few moments' 
grace for our legs to recover from their totter- 
ing, we took a seat on the stairs, when sud- 
denly the door was open, and lo! himself the 



en sceptre for our encouragement. But he 
was too much accustomed to see small poets 
in a state of swoon to exhibit any astonish- 
ment. He courteously raised us from om' 
seat, and, observing that he would give up 
the walk on which he was about to start, he 
led the way into his study. > 




SAKA LA BAIGNEUSE ("IjES OBIENTALES "). 



centre of a flood of light, like Pho>bus Apol- 
lo in liis glory, there stood Victor Hugo! 

' ' Like E.ither before Ahasuerus, we were 
ready to faint; it was almost a matter of sur- 
prise that the monarch did not, like the sa- 



trap to the beautiful Jewess, extend his gold- better to say than that the plum-trees on the 



" Heine has related how, when he was go- 
ing to have an interview with Goethe, he 
prepared an elaborate speech beforehand, 
but when he found himself in the great 
man's presence he could think of nothing 



VICTOU HUGO AJS/D HIS TIME. 



128 



road between Jena and Weinuir bore plums 
that were very nice when one was thirsty; 
whereupon the Jupiter Mansuetus of Ger- 
man poetry smiled gently, perhaps more flat- 
tered by his visitor's bewilderment than he 
would liave been by the most finished ha- 
rangue and by the most glowing culogium. 
Just so was it with us! Our eloquence was 
nmte; the long apostrophe of praise which 
we had spent whole evenings in composing 
nil came to nought ! 



ment,rose above his calm and earnest counte- 
nance: the beauty of that forehead was well- 
nigh superhuman; the deepest of thoughts 
might be written within, but it was capable 
of bearing the coronet of gold or the chaplel 
of laurel with all the dignity of a divinity or 
a Cfesar. This splendid brow was set in a 
frame of rich chestnut hair that was allowed 
to grow to considerable length behind. His 
face was closely shaven, its peculiar paleness 
being relieved by the lustre of a i^air of hazel 




VICTOK HUGO AT THE AGE OF TWENTY-BIGHT. 



"Gods, kings, fair women and poets can 
l)e stared at with more impunity than ordi- 
nary mortals. Victor Hugo was manifestly 
not in the least disconcerted Iiy the intense 
admiration with which we fixed our gaze 
upon him. 

"He was then twenty-eight years of age, 
and nothing about him was more striking 
than his forehead, that, like a marble mouu- 



eyes, keen as an eagle's. The curved lips 
betokened a firm determination, and, when 
half opened in a smile, displayed a set of 
teeth of charming whiteness. His attire was 
neat and faultless, consisting of black frock- 
coat, gray trousers, and a small laj^-down 
collar. Nothing in his appearance could 
ever have led any one to suspect that this 
perfect gentleman was the leader of the 



124 



VICTOR HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



rough-bearded, dishevelled set that was the 
terror of the smooth-faced lourgeoim. 

" Such was Victor Hugo. His image as 
we saw it in that first interview has never 
faded from our memory. It is a portrait 
that we cherish tenderly ; its smiles, beaming 
with talent, continue with us, ever difEusing 
a clear and phosphorescent glory!" 

Enthusiastic as this outburst is, it bears its 
own special testimony to the respect that 
Victor Hugo had gained at an age when 
poets are ordinarily only just emerging into 
fame. Aheady he had inspired men scarce- 
ly younger than himself with a veneration 
that did not arise solely from the works 
that he had published, but was to be attrib- 
uted in a measure to the dignity of his private 
life and the worth of his moral character. 
Although a member of the Cenacle, and liv- 
ing in close intimacy with his literary con- 
temporaries, he never lost his courteous re- 
serve and gentle gravity; he T^ras kind yet 
serious, cheerful yet not familiar; many of 
his most fervent supporters never knew him 
intimately, and only a few of his associates 
ever ventured to say to him "thee" or 
"thou." He has been insulted and slander- 
ed, but never treated with contempt; and we 
shall subsequently have occasion to notice 
the personal influence he exercised upon, all 
who were brought into contact with him. 

Since 1838, when he had left the Rue de 
Vaugirard to take up his abode at 11 Rue 
Notre Dame des Champs, all the men of let- 
ters who visited him had come to regard him 
as their master. Among those who called 
upon him most frequently was Louis Bou- 
langer; another constant visitor was Sainte- 
Beuve, who owned that Victor Hugo had 
taught him a method in the art of poetry, 
instructing him both in style and versifloa- 
tion. He never hesitated to declare that the 
great leader of Romanticism had captivated 
him from the first day he saw him. 

Every evening in Victor Hugo's house was 
at this period devoted to readings, to which 
both his daughter Leopoldine and his little 
son Charles, a chubby boy nicknamed Char- 
lot, were invited to listen, while Victor, the 
baby, slumbered in his cradle ; the family par- 
ty being frequently increased by Alfred de 
Musset, fimile Deschamps, Gustave Planche, 
Merimee, Beranger, and Paul Foucher, who, 
himself a noble - hearted and imaginative 
writer, never ceased to regard his distin- 
guished brother-in-law with loving admira- 



The house in the Rue Notre Dame des 
Champs, in which so many fine verses were 
composed, is now destroyed; it had a garden 
on one side and a court-yard on the other:, 
the landlady occupied the ground-floor, the 
poet had the floor above. The court-yard 
was approached by an avenue of trees shut 
in by a wall. The residence suited Madame 
Victor Hugo well enough, but her stay in it 
was brought to rather a sudden end; for, af- 
ter the performance of " Hernani," the apart- 
ments of the author were besieged by such 
an influx of visitors, especially late at night, 
that the landlady declared she could not have 
her rest disturbed in. that way, and accord- 
ingly gave her tenants notice to quit. They 
moved to the Rue Jean-Goujon, a street then 
being formed in the Quartier Frangois I. At 
that time the house they occupied was the 
only one finished; it was afterwards distin- 
guished as No. 9; all aroxmd it were gardens 
and the Champs felysees, then in a very des- 
olate condition, but affording sufiicient soli- 
tude to enable Victor Hugo, according to his 
habit, to compose as he walked. The un- 
finished thoroughfare was remarkable for a 
great bowling-alley, enclosed by a hoarding, 
which was a favorite Sunday resort for the 



The change of residence did not bring any 
immediate comfort. Just at that period the 
Revolution of 1830 broke out,fightingwent on 
in the Champs Slysees, and bullets perpetual- 
ly whistled round the solitary house in the Rue 
Jean-Groujon, so that it was considered de- 
sirable to send the most valuable part of the 
property away to the Rue du Cherche-Midi. 
It was not long, however, before peace was 
restored. 

It was Victor Hugo's habit to go out after 
dark and wander about for hours composing 
either some verses, a scene of a play, or a 
chapter of a romance, which he would com- 
mit to paper on his return, and, notwithstand- 
ing the various dangers that threatened him, 
he persisted in always going alone. The 
fury that "Hernani" excited was quite 
alarming. One dramatic author, whose name, 
in spite of his marvellous memory, Victor 
Hugo has quite forgotten, sent him a chal- 
lenge; and the poet received many letters 
that were not only insulting, but menacing. 
Madame Victor Hugo has mentioned one of 
them which ran to this effect: "If you do 
not withdraw your vile play, you shall soon 
be sent beyond the taste of bread." 

Victor Hugo only smiled at all this; but 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



125 



one night, after returning from a stroll in 
which, he had composed a page of the 
"Feuilles d'Automne," he lighted his lamp, 
and was writing at about two o'clock in the 
morning, when he heard a loud report, and 
immediately felt the window-pane at his side 
shivered to atoms. In vain he looked down 
into the street; not a soul was visible; but 
on examining the room he discovered that 
a bullet had passed only a few inches above 
his head, making a hole right through a 
picture of Boulanger's that was hanging on 
the opposite wall. He put out his lamp and 
went to bed; but he made no report of what 
had happened, and took no measures to as- 
certain who was the would-be assassin. 

In the house in the Rue Jean-Goujon, the 
ground-floor was occupied by the owner; the 
floor above had been taken by Victor Hugo ; 
over him were two more stories, in one of 
which resided General Vicomte de Cavai- 
gnac, the uncle of Godefroy and Engine Ca- 
vaignac, and whose son was afterwards made 
a French peer ; the uppermost floor of all 
being the lodging of Baron de Mortemart de 
Boisse, of whom llmile Deschamps.who ever 
loved his joke, used to say that he was neither 
"baron nor nwrt, nor de Boisse, but simply 
emart." 

This Mortemart de Boisse, who was brother- 
in-law to the Vicomte de Cavaignac.was then 
editor of the Eevue des Deux Mondes, p, pe- 
riodical now of world-wide celebrity, though 
for some years after it was started (in 1829) by 
Segur-Duperron and Mauroy it was a pub- 
lication of comparatively no importance, and 
devoted principally to geography. The edi- 
tor informed Victor Hugo that the proprietors 
were anxious to dispose of it, and asked him 
whether he knew of any one who was likely 
to be a purchaser. It happened that quite 
recently M. Buloz had had a small legacy, 
and he had confided to Victor Hugo his de- 
sire to start a journal. To him the poet com- 
municated what De Cavaignac had men- 
tioned; the matter was soon negotiated, and 
thus M. Buloz became the proprietor of the 
review. He at once requested Victor Hugo 
to be a contributor; to this application Vic- 
tor Hugo replied that he could not write for 
him regularly, but consented to his publish- 
ing the account he had written of his journey 
to the Alps in company with Nodier and La- 
martine. 

As the success of the review became estab- 
lished, M. Buloz became more urgent in his 
solicitations. 



"My subscribers," he said, "are full of in- 
quiries about you, and when I tell them Hugo 
is the greatest poet of the age, they naturally 
say, ' Then give us Hugo.' " 

But the poet's answer never deviated; he 
invariably maintained that he was not dis- 
posed to wi'ite in magazines, till Buloz, irri- 
tated with disappointment, rejoined, 

"Be it so; but mark you, henceforward 
my journal is not your journal." 

And forthwith the Eevue des Deux Mondea 
changed its tone of admiration into the most 
furious attacks upon all Victor Hugo's pro- 
ductions. M. Buloz never forgave him. 

Another picture of the poet in his home 
has been sketched by M. Xavier Marmier, a 
young man devoted to art, and subsequently 
a distinguished writer in the Mevue, and an 
Academician. One evening, in the winter of 
1831, he presented himself in the Rue Jean- 
Goujon; he had no letter of introduction, 
but, convinced that any sincere lover of lit- 
erature would be sure of a welcome, he called 
to submit a book of poems to the poet, and 
to request his criticism and advice, which he 
knew would be equally wise and candid. 
Ushered into a large room, furnished with 
simple and yet elegant taste, he was struck 
by the womanly beauty of Madame Victor 
Hugo, who had one of her children upon her 
knee ; and when he saw the poet sitting read- 
ing close by at the fireside, he was vividly 
impressed with the resemblance of the entire 
scene to one of Van Dyck's finest pictures; 
and, although it is now fifty years ago, he 
retains all the clearness of his first impres- 
sion. 

It is in a new aspect that we have now to 
see the poet. 

Family affection had ever been a deep feel- 
ing of his heart, but the "Feuilles d'Au- 
tomne," which next appeared, revealed to 
what extent paternal love had now asserted 
its hold upon him. He sings no longer of 
the woman of his early love, but he dwells 
upon the praises of the mother, and hence- 
forward seems to have an infinity of tender- 
ness to lavish upon his children, who, while 
they charmed him by their sprightly grace, 
yet brought him much anxiety and care. 

Justly are the "Feuilles d'Automne" still 
esteemed the most touching of all his lyrics. 
In them he dwells upon all his inmost joys, 
and, as M. Alfred Nettement writes, 

"His lay is of what he has seen, of what 
he has felt, of what he has loved. He sings of 
his wife, the ornament of his home; of his 



120 



riOTOB HUGO AND Hia TIME. 



children, fascinating in their fair-haired beau- 
ty; of landscapes ever widening in their ho- 
rizon; of trees under which he has enjoyed 
a grateful shade." 

Here, in what perhaps may claim to be the 
most finished of all his works, he records his 
sickly infancy, and his love for his affection- 
ate mother and his honored father. Not only 
has the power of his style developed itself 
marvellously, but his ideas have widened so 
as to embrace a new and beautiful life. What- 
ever sadness and disappointment might arise, 
all seemed to be cheered, if not dispelled, by 
the unfailing pleasures of family union. He 
takes a retrospect of the past; he wonders 
how the happy hours have sped away so 
rapidly, and exclaipis: 

'' Tears of my fleeting youth ! did I e'er do you wrong, 
That you so swiftly on your transit haste along 

And leave me to complain ? 
What have I done ? No more your smiling joys ye 

bring, 
No more ye carry me enraptured on your wing ; 
My heart must sigh with pain I" 

And then he asks himself where suflfering 
humanity may find relief ; and, shrinking 
from the destiny before him, utters a mur- 
mur of resignation somewhat in this strain: 

" Forget, forget the past 1 aud let th' nuresting air 
That wafted once our youth, our waning lives now 
bear 

On to the mystic shore. 
Nought of ourselves is constant ; perishable all ; 
The very shadows that we cast upon the wall, 
Seen henceforth never more 1" 

But this philosophy, sombre as it is, is, af- 
ter all, no cry of desperation. Though the 
poet, himself a type of humanity, may groan 
and travail, his tears are all stayed by the 
thought of the smiles of those he loves. 

Sainte-Beuve, who subsequently became a 
freethinker, reproached the author because 
in his book he had forgotten God, and Planche 
reviewed it with his wonted spitefulness; it 
was, moreover, published just at the crisis of 
a revolution, but neither political agitation, se- 
vere criticism, nor theological reproof availed 
to diminish its circulation. It was soon in 
the hands of every one. The verse captivated 
alike by its rhythm and its genius, and was 
felt to have the highest of all charms — that 
it appealed to all, and could be understood 
by all. 

Happy in what he had accomplished, Vic- 
tor Hugo did not rest from his labors; but 
though he was giving new life to the stage 
by his dramas, and creating romances stirring 
in their novel interest, he continued to work 



as a poet, and in 1835 produced " Les Chants 
du Crgpuscule." 

Such was the title that the'poet elected to 
prefix to his new volume, as indicating the 
general gloom of , twilight and uncertainty 
that seemed to be settling upon society and 
the world in general. It was almost as if a 
note of interrogation were appended to every 
thought as it arose in the mind. As com- 
pared with what had gone before, the book 
exhibits the same ideas; the poet is identical- 
ly the same poet, but his brow is furrowed by 
deeper lines, and maturity is more stamped 
upon his years; he laments that he cannot 
comprehend the semi-darkness that is gather- 
ing around; his hope seems damped by hesi- 
tation; his love-songs die away in sighs of 
misgiving ; and when he sees the people en- 
veloped in doubt, he begins to be conscious 
of faltering too. But from all his temper of 
despondency he quickly rallies, and returns 
to a bright assurance of a grand development 
of the human race. 

Meanwhile, oveir this uncertainty, political 
and social, he breathes out his poetic soul; 
midway between what is positive and nega- 
tive, he will not despair, but ventures to hope. 
He discerns the sound of the waves of human 
life as they roll along, sometimes placid and 
sometimes angry, just as the sea-breeze will 
carry across the summit of the clifE the mur- 
mur of the rippling water or the boisterous- 
ness of the raging breaker. 

The Revolution of 1830 was a popular move- 
ment; he divines not what it would produce; 
he has a presentiment that what it established 
would be void of advantage, and yet he knows 
not wherewith to replace it: 

"And yet, what matter? we may sleep or wake, 
The world arouud its destined course will take, 
But if for weal or woe mail kuoweth not: 
The age approaches its unerring lot ! 

"And harkl from yon horizon's farthest bound 
There breaketh forth a vague aud mystic sound ; 
Upon that distant margin fix thine eyes, 
The shade shall deepen, or the star shall rise ! 

" And anxious thus the doubtful east to scan, 
The poet hears the mingled plaiuts of man ; 
He hears the saddened sigh of weary life. 
He marks the uproar of a nation's strife. 

" And yet, amid the sadness of his song, 
A gentle echo doth its note prolong — 
Echo of noblest dreamiugs of the soul, 
That should each waitiug, harassed heart console 1" 

Intermingled with such verses as these are 
songs of pity and of indignation. The poet 
consigns to the pillory the man who betrayed 






'& 




■■7.p:s feuilles dautomne. 



128 



VICTOR HUaO AND BIS TIME. 



the Duchesse de Bern, and he enters his pro- 
test against insults being heaped upon fallen 
woman; he meditates as he works, desiring 
that his poetry should be the instructor of 
his own soul, according to what he wrote 
some years later. 

After a diligent prosecution of his philo- 
sophical and social studies, Victor Hugo, in 
1837, published a new volume entitled "Les 
Voix Interieures. " He dedicated it to his 
father, as one whose name was not .originally 
inscribed upon the Arc de I'feolle, although 
the government ultimately rectified the omis- 
sion. 

The poet in this production regards life 
under its threefold aspect — at home, abroad, 
and at work; he maintains that it is the mis- 
sion of the poet not to suffer the past to be- 
come an illusion to blind him in the present, 
but to survey all things calmly, to be ever 
stanch yet kind, to be impartial and equally 
free from petty wrath and petty vanity; in 
everything to be sincere and disinterest- 
ed. Such was his ideal, and in accordance 
with it Victor Hugo spared no effort to im- 
prove the minds and morals of men in gen- 
eral, and by his poetry, as well as by his 
romances and his plays, he desired to con- 
stitute himself the champion of ameliora- 
tion. • 

With that scornful severity to which he 
ever yielded, Planche consigned the volume 
to oblivion; but, in defiance of all condemna- 
tion, its power and animation were too plain 
to be overlooked. It contains magnificent 
outbursts on the fate of empires side by side 
with tender appeals to the tiny child whom 
he addresses as 

" The little bandit with the rosy lips." 
His references to children are very touching. 
After reproving his own children for having 
burned some of his verses, he immediately 
feels compunction, " recalls," as he says, " the 
startled birds," asks their pardon for scold- 
ing them, and tells them that in their absence 
his life grows weary: 

"Come bade, my childreu ! hope before you lies ; 
For you too soon 'tis folly to be wise : 
Not yet has trouble miugled with your fate ; 
You know not yet the cares that men await. 
Yes, come, my childreu, come and bring the smile 
That shall the weary poet cheer awhile 1" 

As to this entire work, Victor Hugo has 
himself defined it as exhibiting 

" How, stone on stone, two sacred columns rise, 
Where creed on creed extinct and fallen lies ; 
Columns that time is impotent to move- 
Respect for age, for childreu holy love 1" 



In 1840 Victor Hugo submitted his next 
work, "Les Rayons et les Ombres," to the 
public, having already read it at the house 
of M. de Lacretelle, where Lamartine, fimile 
Dfeschamps, Jules Le F6vre, and many other 
literary men were accustomed to resort. In 
this he claims the right of expressing his 
good-will for all who labor, his aversion to 
all who oppress; his love for all who serve 
the good cause, and his pity for all that suffer 
in its behalf; he declares himself free to bow 
down to every misery and to pay homage to 
all self-sacrifice. 

The theme of Victor Hugo's poetry, just 
as it was the aim of his life, was liberty 
of thought. This will be developed more 
completely in a subsequent chapter which 
we shall devote to his political opinions, . 
but at present we are occupied solely with 
the lyrical compositions of his earlier years. 

In this the last of the series there are not 
many pieces- that are purely political, al- 
though various allusions are continually 
made to the generally discouraging aspect of 
affairs at the time in which they were pub- 
lished; and it was in consequence, perhaps,, 
of the lack of anything to arouse enthusiasm; 
in the condition of the national life that the 
poet felt himself thrown back upon the joys 
of home and the beauties of nature. Thus 
he dwells upon the memories of childhood — 
the old home where the birds sang and his 
mother smiled, -the old scenes now tenanted 
by other occupants, careless of all interests 
but their own. These are touched with a 
delicacy and a power that must be owned to 
be very attractive. 

Never does Victor Hugo fail either to de- 
nounce the selfish or to sympathize with the 
suffering. As in "Les Voix Interieures" 
he lashes the heartless Dives who lives only 
for his gold, dead to every sentiment of 
generosity — so in "Les Rayons et les Om- 
bres " he gazes upon the poor girl, the daugh- 
ter of the people, singing in contentment and 
simplicity over her work, and bids her to be 
industrious and pure, and listen to no coun- 
sel but that of virtue. 

Though he admired Voltaire, he had noth- 
ing but the most earnest protests to deliver 
against that sceptical Voltairianism that was 
becoming the watchword of the middle 
classes; for, notwithstanding that the roman- 
tics had declared war against the ancient lit- 
erary regime, they were by no means of the 
mind to accept the guidance of this new 
philosopher. 



130 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Onwards from the period of the Revolution 
of July, Victor stood forward as a socialist 
lighting for the amelioration of the people's 
sufferings; and the more he pondered, the 
more his sympathies enlarged. He struggled 
more perfectly to recognize his own mission, 
and he studied human codes that he might be 
better equipped to mitigate human hardships. 

In his view, deep instruction was to be 
drawn alike from royal crimes and popular 
vices ; and he held that a writer was bound to 
employ history so as to inspire his readers 
with veneration for the old, respect for wom- 
en, duty to parents, tenderness to the suffer- 
ing, and especially with sentiments of honor, 
hope, and love. And what he thus portray- 
ed is what he has demonstrated himself to 
be. Various as are his productions, there is 
the one essential element that pervades them 
all; lUie the growth from the earth, there 
may be many species, but they are kept in 
vigor by the rising of the one sap. He be- 
lieves in the unity of his own work, and, 
though he does not put himself forward as 
a civilizing artist, he has made civilization 
his leading principle and his loftiest aim. 

Long before his exile, Victor Hugo affirm- 
ed that a poet ought to have in him the wor- 
ship of conscience, the worship of thought, 
and the worship of nature ; he should be like 
Juvenal, who felt that day and night were 
perpetual witnesses within him; he should 



be like Dante, who deiined the lost to be 
those who could no longer think; he should 
be like St. Augustine, who, heedless of any 
accusation of pantheism, declared the sky to 
be an "intelligent" creation. Under such 
inspiration he has attempted to write the 
poem of humanity. He loves brightness 
and sunshine. The Bible has been his book; 
Virgil and Dante have been his masters; he 
has labored to reconcile truth and poetry, 
knowing that knowledge must precede 
thought, and thought must precede imagina- 
tion; while knowledge, thought, and imagi- 
nation combined are the secret of power, 

("To the detractors who have risen up tO' 
traduce him, his works are the fittest reply, 
and Victor Hugo need never regret the at- 
tacks of his enemies, inasmuch as they have^ 
only served to accelerate his greatness. To- 
day he is read by all who read, and admired 
by all who have capacity to admire. He 
has gathered in the produce of the harvest 
of which he sowed the seed; from the first 
he had a confidence in the future which has 
now been vindicated perfectly. 

A comprehensive glance at the earlier ca- 
reer of Victor Hugo thus far depicted can- 
not fail to leave before our gaze the portrait 
of a man pure in life, earnest in purpose, 
honorable and independent in action, and 
ever actuated by the ardent and indwelling; 
principle of the love of liberty. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



131 



CHAPTER XVII. 

" LitWratnve et Philosophie M6I^es."— Jacobite in 1S19, Revolutioiiiat in 1830.— The Poet's Judgment on his 
Early Wovlts.— Stndy of Conscience.— Tlioughts upon Art.— History of the French Language.— Candida- 
ture for the Acadfimie.— Failure Thrice.— Malice of Casimir Delavigue Wrath of Alexandre Duval 

Ch&teanbriaud and Vieunet.— Formal Reception A Satirical Quatrain. —Speeches of the New Member. 



Mbaitwhiib, during this fine and prolific 
period, Victor Hugo was producing other 
works. Not only did he publish "Notre 
Dame de Paris," to which we shall have to 
devote a special notice hereafter, but in 1834 
he committed to the press a review of the 
part he had been taking in literary and po- 
litical matters. By putting together a num- 
ber of notes of his own proceedings "during 
fifteen years of progress," he exhibited how 
a loyal mind in the time of revolution may 
become its own critic. 

This collection of miscellaneous pieces and 
criticisms was published in two volumes, 
and was entitled ' ' Litt§rature et Philosophie 
MSlees." The first volume commences with 
the journal of a Jacobite in 1819, and de- 
clares the creed of the author of "Han d'lsl- 
ande." Thence he takes the multitude, as 
it were, into his confidence, and reckons up 
every step of the ladder by which he has 
mounted until he comes to hold the opinions 
of a revolutionist in 1834; his object being 
to demonstrate how his line of thought has 
been gradually drawn out and his range of 
vision perpetually widened, but still how his 
conscience has consistently led him on in the 
path of progress. 

In thus tracing the development of his 
views, he believes he is portraying the con- 
dition of mind of a large proportion of his 
generation, and the summary he gives be- 
comes not simply the picture of a youthful 
royalist, but an instructive historical docu- 
ment. 

The outline of what was working in his 
brain in 1819 was necessarily half effaced by 
the lapse of time, but the judgment which 
he passes upon his own early productions is 
not devoid of interest; he says: 

"There were historical sketches and mis- 
cellaneous essays, there were criticism and 
poetry; but the criticism was weak, the poe- 
try weaker still. The verses were some of 
them light and frivolous, some of them trag- 



ically grand; the declamations against regi- 
cides were as furious as they were honest; 
the men of 1793 were lampooned with epi- 
grams of 1754, a species of satire now obso- 
lete, but very fashionable at the date at which 
they were published. Next came visions of 
regeneration for the stage, and vows of loy- 
alty to the State; every variety of style is 
represented; every branch of classical knowl- 
edge is made subordinate to literary reform; 
finally, there are schemes of government and 
studies of tragedies all conceived in college 
or at school." 

Smartly, however, as Victor Hugo thus an- 
imadverts upon his first literary efforts, he 
asserts that amid the general chaos there 
was the fermentation of one element which 
would ultimately assimilate all to itself; 
there was an undercurrent of a spirit of lib- 
erty, which, in course of time, would modify 
and pervade his every thought of literature, 
of art, and of society. 

He describes the work "as a sort of her- 
barium in which is preserved a labelled spec- 
imen of each of his various blossomings;" 
and, regarded in this light, the "Litt§rature 
et Philosophie Mglees" offers an attractive 
study to any one who wishes to get a com- 
prehensive view of the development of one 
of the master-minds of his age. 

In the preface Victor Hugo enunciates his 
opinion about art; he denies having ever 
seriously applied the terms "classic" and 
"romantic" to any one, and expresses his 
satisfaction at the termination of the literary 
wars of the early period of the Restoration, 
making the remark that "it is a good sign 
of progress in a discussion when party names 
come to be disregarded." He asserts that 
style is an absolute property, and that in po- 
etry an idea is inseparable from its style of 
expression. "Take away Homer's style," 
he says, "and you have only Bitaube." He 
next proceeds to give a resume of the his- 
tory of the French language, noting its prog- 



132 



VICTOR HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



ress and anticipating that it •will preserve 
its dignity in the hands of writers of style ; 
and he concludes with some admirable ad- 
vice to such as intend devoting themselves 
to letters, and bids them cherish a lofty aim 
and make it their ambition to appeal straight 
to men's hearts. 

The entire composition reveals the secret 
of Victor Hugo's thought. His intellect is en- 
larging; his horizon is becoming more ex- 
tensive; he feels that he can no longer be 
content with his lyre; he burns to throw 
himself into public action, and to bring his 
energies into contact with the great social 
struggles of his day. For this purpose he 
must make his way to the tribune. 

Under Louis Philippe there were but two 
tribunes, the Chamber of Deputies and the 
Chamber of Peers. For Victor Hugo to be 
elected a deputy was out of the question; he 
was not a householder and he had no private 
fortune. The peerage was only open to him 
on condition of his becoming a; member of 
one of the corporations from which the king 
nominated the peers. Of these the Acade- 
mie was the chief, and accordingly for the 
Academic the poet resolved to become a can- 
didate, and a vacancy occurred in 1836. 

Dumas has remarked that it was a strange 
whim on the part of the author of the 
"Odes," "Marion Delorme," and "Notre 
Dame de Paris " to wish to become a col- 
league with such men as M. Droz, M. Brif- 
faut, andM.Viennet; but, though he did not 
see that the title would add anything to the 
poet's renown, he began vigorously to can- 
vass for votes to gratify his fancy. He call- 
ed upon Casimir Delavigne, imagining that 
the author of the " Messeniennes " would 
only be too glad to support so illustrious a 
candidate; he found himself utterly mis- 
taken, and in his own charming way relates 
how vehemently Delavigne protested that he 
would vote for Dumas with all his heart, but 
for Hugo never. Casimir Delavigne hated 
Victor Hugo most cordially. The reason of 
this antipathy, Dumas observes, he could 
never discover; but when he himself re- 
marks that Delavigne, with his feeble con- 
stitution, had only produced one work, and 
that a very consumptive one, he really as- 
signs the true explanation. The poet of the 
imperial era was sickly and asthmatic, and 
he detested Victor Hugo simply for his ro- 
bustness and his power. 

Meanwhile the Academicians had a very 
limited choice of candidates, and were much 



perplexed how to act. At length, in mere 
despair, they elected Dupaty, a name bur- 
dened with so light a Uterary reputation that 
its weight has long ceased to be felt. 

In his defeat, Victor Hugo consoled him- 
self by saying, 

"I always thought the way to the Acade- 
mic was across the Pont des Arts ; I find that 
it is across the Pont Neuf." 

In 1839 another seat fell vacant, and Vic- 
tor Hugo renewed his canvass, going, accord- 
ing to custom, from the house of one Acade- 
mician to another, but being received every- 
where with the same frigid politeness. For 
were not the majority his sworn foes? were 
they not writers of the very school who were 
scandalized at his popularity? Neverthe- 
less, he always jocosely said he never regret- 
ted the expense of his cabriolet fares; it was 
well worth the money to see these literary 
pontiffs arrayed in their dressing-gowns, and 
it was a source of infinite amusement to hear 
them snarl out their contemptuous judgment 
on his various works. Even now he can re- 
call the stately pose of BriflEaut and of La- 
cuee de Cessao, and remembers how, when he 
caUed upon the celebrated Baour-Lormian, 
the concierge was absent, but that while wan- 
dering about the passage he came upon a 
pair of shoes so monstrous that he knew at 
which door to knock. Nobody but Baour- 
Lormian could be the wearer of such shoes 
as those! 

Nor does he forget how Alexandre Duval 
received him with ill-disguised hostility. 

"What had you done to offend him?" we 
asked the poet, recently. 

"I had written 'Hernani,'" he replied, 
with a smile. 

It was Duval who, in a dying condition, 
insisted upon being conveyed to the Acade- 
mic to record his vote against Hugo. When 
Royer-CoUard saw the poor creature almost 
at his last gasp, he inquired, 

" Who is the infamous candidate that drags 
this expiring mortal from his bed? Tell me, 
and I will vote against him. " 

But when he heard it was Hugo, he changed 
his tone, and voted in his favor. 

The successful candidate in 1839 was M. 
Mole. 

Another vacancy occurred in 1840, and for 
the third time Victor Hugo was unsuccessful, 
the choice of the Academicians on this occa- 
sion falling on M. Flourens. 

At last, in the following year, 1841, he se- 
cured his election, the majority who voted 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



133 



for him being Lamartine, Chateaubriand, 
Royer - Collard, Villeniain, Charles Nodier, 
Philippe de Segur, Laeretelle, Salvandy, Mole, 
Pongerville, Soumet, Mignet, Cousin, Lebnm, 
Dupin the elder, Thiers, and Viennet. In the 
minority were Casimir Delavigne, Scribe, Du- 
paty, lloger, Jouy, Jay, Briffiaut, Campenon, 
Feletz, Etieune, Tissot, Lacuee de Cessac, 
Plourens, and Baour. Guizot arrived too 
late to record his vote; Chateaubriand, a 
rare attendant at the Academic, took care to 
be in time, considering it was an event for 
which he might well put himself a little out 
of the way, and being anxious for the fourth 
time to render his tribute to a writer whose 
great future he had predicted. 

A name remarkable among those who 
voted for Victor Hugo was that of M. Vien- 
net. At the time when Victor Hugo was 
made a chevalier of the Legion of Honor, 
he wrote a letter, never verjr widely circu- 
lated, to the effect that he should like to claim 
"the cross of a chevalier for every one who 
had the courage to read right through anj' 
work of a romantic, and the cross of an offi- 
cer for ever}' one who had the wit to under- 
stand it. " Poor Viennet ! he was converted 
afterwards, and must be forgiven. 

One candidate refused to stand against 
Hugo. This was Balzac, who subsequently 
presented himself in 1849, but was defeated by 
M. de Noailles, a writer whoso literary talent 
was b)' no means conspicuous. Discouraged 
by his failure, Balzac wrote to M. Laurant 
Jan, begging him to convey his thanks to the 
tmo Academicians who had honored him with 
their support, and adding, 

"The Academic has preferred M. de No- 
ailles to myself. As an author I am his in- 
ferior; but in courtesy and magnanimity I 
am his superior, for I formerly retired in 
favor of Hugo." 

Notwithstanding that many of the elections 
have been the issue of literary feuds, or of 
what is called " political necessity," the Aca- 
demic as a whole contains many names that 
are really illustrious, and accordingly merits 
a high respect. But public spleen, which en- 
tertains respect for nothing, has vented itself 
in various epigrams on the institution, by no 
means reckoning that adoption into its soci- 
ety is a sine qua non of genius. Victor Hugo's 
congratulations on bis admission were by no 
means universal, and on the very day of his 
election he received a quatrain sent to him 
under cover by an unknown hand, and enti- 
tled "The Emperor and the Poet:" 



** Ambitious both, both with perfidions rivals matched, 
They now the highest prizes of their hope have 

snatched ; 
Napoleon at the Invalides his quarters takes, 
While Hugo to the Institute his entry makes 1" 

The poet took his seat on June 3, 1841, in 
the room of Nepomuctine Lemercier. 

His inauguration speech opened with a 
brilliant picture of the rule of Napoleon. He 
referred to the emperor's power as being that 
before which the whole universe, with the 
exception of six contemplative poets, was 
bowing down in homage. "Those poets," 
he said, "were Duels, Delille, Madame de 
Stael, Benjamin Constant, Chateaubriand, and 
Lemercier. But what did their resistance 
mean? Europe was dazzled, and lay as it 
were vanquished and absorbed in the glory 
of France. What did these six resentful 
spirits represent? Why, they represented for 
Europe the only thing in which Europe failed; 
they represented independence: and thej' rep- 
resented for France the only thing in which 
France was wanting; they represented lib- 
erty. " 

According to custom, he proceeded to eu- 
logize his predecessor: he spoke of the noble- 
ness of his life, and told how he was on terms 
of brotherly intimacy with Bonaparte the 
consul ; but how, when the consul became an 
emperor, he was no longer his friend. 

He concluded his oration by declaring how 
it was the mission of every author to diffuse 
civilization, and avowed that, for his own 
part, it had ever been his aim to devote his 
abilities to the development of good - fellow- 
ship, feeling it his duty to be unawed hy a 
mob, but to respect the people; and although 
he could not always sympathize with every 
form of liberty which was advocated, yet he 
was ever ready to hold out the hand of en- 
couragement to all who were languishing 
through want of air and space, and whose 
prospects of the future seemed full of gloom 
and despair. To ameliorate the condition of 
the masses, he would have every generous 
and thinking mind hiy itself out to devise 
fresh schemes of unprovement; and libraifes, 
studios, schools, should be multiplied, as all 
tending to the advancement of the human 
race, and to the propagation of the love of 
law and liberty. 

His harangue was warmly applauded by 
the Academic, and received a much more 
enthusiastic welcome than the somewhat 
feeble reply of M. Salvandy, who was by no 
means anxious to foster any new or bold lit- 



134 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



eraiy theories. It was likewise highly praised 
by all the independent journals, which has- 
tened to express satisfaction at the delivery 
of so strong an appeal for the liberty of the 
press. 

Two years afterwards, when, according to 
rotation, Victor Hugo was president, Casimir 
Delavigne died, and accordingly it fell to his 
lot, by virtue of his office, to deliver a funeral 
oration over one who, for some inexplicable 
reason, had always shown himself his enemy. 
But to bear malice was not in his natui'e. In 
a few words he bore witness to the fine tal- 
ents of Delavigne, in whom he recognized a 
calm and lofty soul, a kind and gentle heart, 
and an intellect guided by conscience; and 
he wound up his peroration by exclaiming, 
"And now let all the petty jealousies that 
follow high renown, let all disputes of the 
contlicting schools,let all the turmoil of party- 
feeling and literary rivalry, be forgotten ! let 
them pass into the silence into which the 
departed poet has gone to take his long re- 
pose!" 

On the 16t.h of January, 184.5, Victor Hugo 
had to reply to the speech of M. Saint-Marc 
Girardin, who had been elected in the room 
of M, Campenon ; and on the following 37th 
of February he had to respond to the open- 
ing address of M. Sainte-Beuve. 

To pass any eulogium upon Sainte-Beuve 
was for him a difficult and almost a cruel 
task. Sainte-Beuve had once been his friend 
and admirer, but had long changed into an 
unrelenting enemy and unscrupulous critic. 
As far back as 1835 he had written to M. 
Louis Noel, who, like himself, had been one 
of Victor Hugo's admirers, to the following 
effect : ' ' You have Ijeen, I feel, under some 
delusion about Hugo. . . . He was not what 
his friends imagined. ... I was once fasci- 
nated with him ; I have now learned to under- 
stand his true character. . . . His pride is in- 
tense, . . . his egotism is unbounded, and he 
recognizes no existence beyond his own ; . . . 
this is his chief fault; his other failings may 
be mere weaknesses to be treated with in- 
dulgence." Nor had Sainte-Beuve contented 
himself with these treacherous insinuations, 
he had gone so far as to publish in one of 
his books, which he named "Poison," the 
most slanderous calumnies against one who 
had welcomed him to his own lireside as a 
brother. 

For all this, Victor Hugo had turned him 
off. The critic vowed that he would have 
his revenge, and he took it in his own fash- 



ion: and on the 1st of March, 1840, he had 
the audacity to publish an article in the Be- 
mie des Deux Mondes which he entitled "Dix 
Ans apr^s en Litterature, " and which is a 
perfect specimen of literary treachery. It 
must have been a very difficult article to 
write, as the author had to contradict and 
renounce all his previous statements and 
opinions. The few extracts that follow will 
show that he set about the business rather 
awkwardly. He commences thus : 

' ' We who have preached more crusades 
than one, and those not always of the most 
orthodox character ; we who, it may be feared, 
have been too keen in our love of adventure, 
not stopping short of the rape of Helen and 
of an imprudent assault, now find it proper 
and opportune — nay, imperative — to effect a 
kind of second marriage and new union of 
reason between talents that are matured." 

He goes on to explain : 

' ' The union between classics and roman- 
ticists is a noble idea. The basis of the 
alliance is this: the romanticists have not 
fulfilled their pledges, and consequently the 
only alternative left to French literature is to 
betroth them to the classics." 

He proceeds to deliver a pompous eulogium 
upon Chateaubriand, whom he exalts as "the 
pre-eminent and most lasting writer of his 
time ; a grandsire who had seen the birth and 
death of many sons and grandsons," and be- 
stows unstinted praise upon Guizot, Cousin, 
Villemain, Thierry, Thiers, and Jouffroy. He 
speaks in flattering terms of Lamennais and 
of Lamartine; but when he comes to allude 
to Victor Hugo, Sainte - Beuve has nothing 
but ill-concealed censure and stern rigidity. 
He allows, indeed, that within the last ten 
years he had given sufficient proof of his lyr- 
ical genius in " Les Feuilles d'Automne," 
and of his power as a prose-writer in "Notre 
Dame de Paris," and immediately goes on to 
say 

"Yet all these signs of magnificent prom- 
ise do we forget as soon as we think of his 
numerous stubborn relapses, or consider the 
way in which he holds to theories which 
public opinion has already condemned. Sen- 
timents of humanizing art, which might easily 
enough be praised, are utterly ignored, and 
M. Hugo clings with a steadfast persistence to 
his own peculiar style." In the reactionary 
movement which appeals for a moderate co- 
alition, M. Hugo holds himself entirely aloof. 
He is no longer the leader of a school of 
thought ; he is no longer an author of whom 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



135 



Sainte-Beuve could write, as he had written 
ten years before, that ' ' all his works are char- 
acterized by progress in art, in genius, and in 
intensity of emotion." Ho is now only "a 
man who shines as it were from afar; whose 
^sole influence is upon minds that are capable 
of development." 

Such is the extent to which an ordinarily 
enlightened intellect may fall when blinded 
by malice! Such is the depth of meanness 
to which a writer with an ill-balanced mind 
will condescend! 

And now Sainte-Beuve had been elected to 
;the Academic, and it would be the duty of 
Victor Hugo to respond to his inauguration 
speech. The occasion naturally excited the 
public curiosity. Tickets of admission were 
■eagerly sought for, but no party-feeling of 
.the audience was destined to be gratified. 
Not a single word of personal allusion found 
its way into Victor Hugo's speech, unless the 
following sentence, which is of doubtful in- 
terpretation, may be considered in this light : 
"You, as a poet, must know that those who 
■sufEer retire within themselves under a sense 
of uneasiness, which in fallen souls is shame 
.and in pure souls is modesty." 

It will be necessary to add only one more 



characteristic of Victor Hugo as an Acade- 
mician. 

During the first ten years in which he held 
his seat, from 1841 to 1851, he T/as a most 
conscientious member, attending all the de- 
bates. In common with his associates, he 
had to peruse the books sent in for competi- 
tion and to award the prizes, but on such oc- 
casions he would never consent to make a 
written report, always limiting his judgment 
to a verbal opinion. Sometimes he formd 
himself alone in a minoritj', but it nearly al- 
ways turned out that his adjudication was 
correct. 

One day, when some one was speaking of 
the historical dictionary which the Academic 
was preparing, he made the observation that, 
at the rate at which it was progressing, it 
would take about 3000 years to finish. M. 
Renan, afterwards his colleague, subsequent- 
ly said to him, 

' ' At first I thought your reckoning much 
exaggerated, but I have since verified it and 
found that it is perfectly accurate. " 

The form of our narrative has led us to 
leave Victor Hugo's great romance tempora- 
rily on one side, but we may now turn our 
attention to "Notre Dame de Paris." 







136 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

"Notre Dame de Paris." — A Shawl and a Bottle of Ink.— Author's Aim in the Work. — Archseology and 

Philosophy. — Criticism Opinions of Sainte-Beave and Jules Janiu. — Victor Hugo's Erudition. — His 

Vocabulary. — Complaints of the Savans. — A Well-informed Cicerone. — Plays Adapted from "Notre 
Dame de Paris."— Contemplated Bomances "Le Ehiu." — A Conscientious Tourist.- Mediaeval Archi- 
tecture. 



It was in 1831, ten years before he entered 
the Academie, and at the period when he 
was aiming at the regeneration of the stage 
by renovating the style of the drama, and 
while he was giving fresh vitality to the art 
of poetry, that Victor Hugo brought out 
"Notre Dame de Paris," a romance publish- 
ed in two volumes, and a work which of it- 
self would suffice to immortalize its author's 
name. 

He had made a contract some time previous- 
ly with M. Grosselin, the publisher, to supply 
him with the work; but when he got into 
arrears with it and gave fresh annoyance to 
M. Gosselin, who had already been vexed at 
not having been the publisher of " Hernani," 
he was threatened with legal proceedings to 
compel him to fulfil his undertaking. 

The original agreement had been that the 
manuscript should be ready by the end of 
1829; but in July, 1830, not a line of it had 
been written. A fresh arrangement was 
made, including a covenant that the book 
should be completed by the following De- 
cember. The author, however, had scarcely 
commenced his task when the Revolution 
broke out, and as the house in the Rue Jean- 
Goujon was in a dangerous situation, he con- 
sidered it desirable to shift his manuscripts 
to the Rue du Cherche-Midi, and had the 
misfortune to find that, in the general hurry, 
a book of notes, the result of two months' la- 
bor, had been mislaid. 

The missing chapters, which were called 
"Impopularite," "Abbas Beati Martini," 
and "Ceci tuera cela," did not appear in 
"Notre Dame de Paris" until the eighth 
edition, in 1833, after the author had recov- 
ered them. They did not, he said, affect the 
plot, but he inserted them in order to give a 
more complete view of his sesthetical and 
philosophical ideas. 

Desiring that the manuscript should be 
finished under every advantage, M. Gosselin 
conceded a further delay, stipulating that the 



work should be in his hands by February, 
1831, thus leaving Victor Hugo five months- 
to accomplish it. 

"The witness of his life " has informed us 
what steps he now took: he purchased a 
great gray woollen wrapper, that covered 
him from head to foot; he locked up all his 
clothes, lest he should be tempted to go out;, 
and, carrying off his ink-bottle to his study, 
applied himself to his labor just as if he had 
been in prison. He never left the table ex- 
cept for food and sleep, and the sole recrea- 
tion that he allowed himself was an hour's 
chat after dinner with M. Pierre Leroux, or 
any other friend who might drop in, and to 
whom he would occasionally read over the 
day's work. 

Shortly before the manuscript was finish- 
ed, M. Gosselin wrote to inquire in what 
terms the book ought to be described in the 
preliminary advertisements. Victor Hugo 
replied, "It is a description of Paris in the 
fifteenth century, and of the fifteenth cen- 
tury as far as regards Paris. Louis XI. fig- 
ures in one chapter, and is associated with 
the denouement of the whole. The book does 
not pretend to be historical; nevertheless, 
with a certain amount of knowledge, and 
with a certain amount of conscientiousness, 
it gives glimpses of the morality, the creed, 
the laws, the arts, and the civilization of the- 
period. And yet this is not the most impor- 
tant feature of the work; if it has any spe- 
cial merit, that merit lies in its being the crea- 
tion of imagination, fancy, and caprice." 

Universally known as this powerful work 
has become, it cannot be expected that we 
should attempt any elaborate analysis of its 
plot; we should only wish to throw what 
light we can upon the intention of the au- 
thor, who, in opening up some of the aspects 
of the Middle Ages, has brought this particu- 
lar period so vividly before us. 

As an archaeologist he has revived for us 
the monuments of ancient Paris; he has ran- 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



137 



sacked the annals of the cathedral of which 
the foundations and earliest portions date 
back to the twelfth century, and which, as 
the result of the mutilations of some ages 
and the enlargements of others, has become 
one of the purest of cliefs-d'wwere of religious 
architecture; that architecture which, from 
the first epoch of history down to the inven- 
tion of printing, might be reckoned as "the 
great book of humanity, appealing as a force 
and an intelligence to the various stages of 
its development." 

Victor Hugo has always had an intense 
veneration for the national architecture; he 
has ever tried to defend the ancient monu- 
ments from modern vandalism, and thus, to 
his mind, the imposing cathedral of Paris 
has become the symbol of art and ideas long 
passed away, so that he has delighted to 
make it, as it were, the heroine of his ro- 
mance. 

And to this artistic enthusiasm he has 
joined the erudition of the historian; he 
has studied and brought to light the super- 
stitions of the Parisians of the Middle Ages; 
and he has thrown life into the physiogno- 
mies, alike strange and interesting, of schol- 
ars, vagrants, alchemists, poets, merchants, 
and magistrates, carrying us through by- 
ways to the Palais de Justice, conducting us 
from the cloister to the Place de Grfive, and 
taking us from the Porch of Notre Dame 
to the Cour des Miracles, where dirt predom- 
inates, and a swarming populace of bandits 
keep up a tongue elsewhere unknown or 
rather forgotten. 

Having deciphered the word avayxri upon 
the wall of a cell under the towers of Notre 
Dame, Victor Hugo took it as an epigraph of 
the cathedral; and, recognizing the stern fa- 
tality that urges on the career of every mor- 
tal in the turmoil of life who is not con- 
trolled by the civilized laws of duty, he rep- 
resented it as the secret of the celibate priest 
being surrendered to love, the Bohemian be- 
ing subjected to the priest, and the mother 
being impelled to lead her daughter to the 
gallows. Thus it was that, obedient to the 
inexorable sway of fatality, Gringoire became 
the type of the literary misery of the period; 
the same power being owned by Jean Frol- 
lo, the scholar; by Trouillefou, king of the 
vagrants; by Quasimodo, the ideal of de- 
formity; and by Esmeralda, the ideal of 
grace — this Esmeralda being a young girl 
with slim figure and rich brunette complex- 
ion, arrayed in bodice of gold and variegated 



skirt, dancing in the porch upon a fragment 
of old Persian carpet, curving her arms and 
striking her tambourine, and flashing light- 
ning glances from her large black eyes. 

The basis of the romance is art as exem- 
plified in architecture, but the architecture of 
the cathedral becomes a magnificent frame- 
work for a drama full of excitement. 

' ' In the style, " writes Sainte-Beuve at a 
period when his judgment was as yet unbi- 
assed, "there is a magical facility and free- 
dom in saying all that should be said; there 
is a striking keenness of observation; espe- 
cially there is a profound knowledge of the 
populace, and a deep insight into man in his 
vanity, his emptiness, and his glory, whether 
he be mendicant, vagabond, savant, or sensu- 
alist. Moreover, there is an unexampled 
comprehension of form — an unrivalled ex- 
pression of grace, material beauty, and great- 
ness; and altogether a worthy production of 
an abiding and gigantic monument. Alike 
in the pretty prattlings of the nymph-like 
child, in the cravings of the she- wolf mother, 
and in the surging passion, almost reaching 
to delirium, that rages in a man's brain, there 
is the moulding and wielding of everything 
just at the author's will." 

Alfred de Musset acknowledged that the 
work was colossal, but professed Mmself un- 
able to take in its scope. 

Other critics were more pronounced; one 
of them, a contributor to a leading journal in 
Paris, giving his judgment that "'Notre_ 
Dame de Paris' is merely an insipid copy 
of Voltaire's ' Merope. ' 'The discovery of a 
daughter by a mother constitutes the whole 
plot; of invention there is absolutely noth- 
ing!" 

On the other hand, Jules Janin's judgment 
was more than favorable. He wrote, with 
enthusiasm : 

" ' Notre Dame de Paris ' is powerful and 
thrilling reading that leaves a terrible im- 
pression on the mind, like a distressing night- 
mare. Of all the works of the author, it is 
pre-eminently that in which his fire of gen- 
ius, his inflexible calmness, and his indom- 
itable will are most conspicuous. What 
accumulation of misfortunes is piled up in 
these mournful pages ! What a gathering to- 
gether there is of ruinous passion and be- 
wildering incident ! All the foulness and all 
the faith of the Middle Ages ai'e kneaded to- 
gether with a trowel of gold and of iron. 
At the sound of the poet's voice, all that 
was in ruins has risen to its fullest heigh^ 



138 



VICTOR HUGO AND HI8 TIME. 



reanimated by his breath. What movements 
are stirred up in those narrow streets, those 
crowded quarters, those ancient churches ! 
What fiery, warring passions are excited in 
the minds of those merchants, that soldiery, 
those cut -throats! Each one, priest and 
woman alike, is arrayed in the proper garb; 
unless, indeed, the passion is naked, as of a 
beast in the wilderness! 

"Victor Hugo has followed his vocation 
as poet and architect, as writer of history 
and romance ; his pen has been guided alike 
by ancient chronicle and by his own person- 
al genius; he has made the bells of the great 
<!ity all to clang out their notes; and he has 
made every heart of the population, except 
that of Louis XI., to beat with life! Such is 
the book; it is a brilliant page of our history 
which cannot fail to be a crowning glory in 
the career of its author." 

To add anything to such a testimony as 
this would be superfluous, as it would be to 
speak any more in praise of a work which 
has been lauded by EugSne Sue and by Be- 
ranger; it is worthy of the minister of which 
its title bears the name; it has been read 
•only to be read again. None now would 
venture to disparage the romance as a work 
•of genius; it is only about the use of a few 
technical terms and the employment of some 
obsolete expressions that there is any longer 
any dispute. 

Undoubtedly Victor Hugo's vocabulary is 
very extensive, and he does not hesitate to 
•employ terms that are by no means general- 
ly understood by the masses. He has be- 
•stowed almost unlimited time upon lexi- 
cons, and has not contented himself with the 
ordinary medium of communicating his 
thoughts; not but what his usual style is 
sufiiciently clear, and when it suits him he 
can be terse and concise; it is only when he 
deems it necessary to make his words a pict- 
ure of what he would describe that he re- 
sorts to language which was peculiar to the 
.age in which his characters lived and acted. 
Erudition, he held, was not unbecoming in 
an author; and thus, in "Notre Dame de 
Paris," he reckoned it advantageous to have 
•so far studied the glossaries of the Middle 
Ages as to utilize the phraseology, to revive 
with truth and accuracy the manners and the 
features of the time. 

The result of this has been that certain com- 
mentators have alleged that his vocabulary 
ias been based upon a counterfeit science, 
and that it would inflict unnecessary torture 



upon the Saumaises of the future, who would 
be driven to desperation to discover the mean- 
ing of such terms as la easaque d mahoitres, 
les voulgiers, Us eraaoquiniers, U gaUima/rd 
tacM d'encre, le hasteur, and such like. 

But in reply it may be urged that genuine 
students, worthy of the name, have not been 
required to make any deep researches to es- 
tablish the ignorance of such critics. A very 
little investigation might have served to in- 
form them that in the time of Louis XI. the 
cosaque d mahoitres was a robe with puffed 
sleeves; while in the chronicle of Jacques 
Duclere (1467) it is recorded that the high- 
born ladies of the court of Philip le Bon wore 
great mahoitres on their shoulders in order to 
make themselves look more dressy and to 
show off the slope of their necks. And just 
so in the other cases : voulgiers were foot-sol- 
diers armed with the voulge or imige, a single- 
edged blade fixed to a pole; eraaoquiniers 
were cross-bowAen; a,gallima/rd tachi d'enore 
was simply an inkstand; a hasteur, a keeper 
of a cook-shop; the whole of which might 
have been ascertained by merely consulting 
Ducange's "Glossarium Mediae et Infimae 
Latinitatis. " 

A correspondent of the curious magazine 
called the Intermidia/re has remarked that 
the author, in order to give his romance the 
true archaic coloring, has gone to the foun- 
tain-head for his knowledge, and that con- 
sequently every incident and every expres- 
sion may be justified by reference to Monteil's 
"Histoire des Fran9ais,"De Sauvars"His- 
toire des Antiquites de Paris, "and Roque- 
fort's "Glossaire Roman." 

Not content with accusing Victor Hugo of 
pedantry, some of the reviewers began to 
charge him with ignorance of gramjjaar, the 
dispute turning very much upon the gender 
of the word amuktte, and serving in a way to 
recall the remark made, we believe, by Alfred 
Delvau, to the effect that critics have no right 
' ' to amuse themselves like so many monkeys 
by picking the vermin from the lion's skin." 

Notwithstanding the anxiety felt by its 
publisher, " Notre Dame de Paris" had an 
immediate success. Within a year it reached 
an eighth edition, and the original vignettes 
by Tony Johannot were replaced by some en- 
gravings by C§lestin Nanteuil.* The num- 



' For these engravings, fonr in nnmber, Hantenil 
received the sum of sixty francs — a statement that 
may serve to measure the liberality of publishers in 
Paris fifty years ago. 




LA ES.MEKALDA. 



140 



VICTOR HUGO Alffi HIS TIME. 



ber of subsequent editions can scarcely be 
estimated. 

The sensation caused by tlie work was 
not long in attracting crowds to the old ba- 
silica tjf Philippe Auguste, where the cice- 
rone made a good harvest. One day while 
Victor Hugo was conducting a party of ladies 
over "his cathedral," the cicerone came as 
usual to render his services. On reaching 
the belfry - entrance above the gallery, he 
opened the door of a cell, and proceeded to 
tell his story: 

"Here is the cell where the illustrious M. 
Hugo wrote his popular work. He never 
left- the spot till he had finished writing. 
There you see his table, his chair, his bed. 
He took hardly any food, and that of the 
plainest kind." 

The poet gravely thanked the intelligent 
verger for these historical details, and, with 
a gracious smile, bowed, and slipped a gra- 
tuity into his expectant hand. 

Hardly had the book issued from the press 
before an attempt was made by a dramatist 
named Dubois, of the ThgStre de Versailles, 
to convert it into a play. This consisted of 
seven scenes, in three acts, Quasimodo being 
made the principal character. The theatrical 
registries make no mention of the work, to 
which we here refer chiefly as a literary cu- 
riosity. It was published both in Paris and 
Versailles, and sold by booksellers who dealt 
in novelties; but it was performed only a few 
times at the Thetee du Temple. 

Altogether of a different character was the 
drama in five acts compiled by Paul Foucher, 
Victor Hugo's brother-in-law, and brought 
out in 1850. This proved a great success. It 
was afterwards revised and modified by M. 
Paul Meurice, who made it adhere still more 
closely to the original work. In this im- 
proved form it had a long run at the Porte- 
Saint-Martin in 1879. 

At the solicitation of M. Gosselin and other 
publishers, Victor Hugo consented to write 
some more romances, and they were adver- 
tised as being in preparation. One of these 
was to be called "La Quiquengrogne." It 
was intended to give an idea of feudal medi- 
sevalism corresponding to the picture of ec- 
clesiastical medisevalism that had been drawn 
in " Notre Dame de Paris." It was to be 
followed by another, of which the title was 
"Le Pils de la Bossue." Neither of these 
books, however, was published ; and, al- 
though they were conceived some fifty years 
ago, they have never yet appeared. The 



romance that was next in order to "Notre 
Dame de Paris " was "Les Miserables." 

Having now reviewed all Victor Hugo's 
romances as far as 1840, we may mention 
"Le Dernier Jour d'un Oondamng" and 
" Claude Gueux," and leave them awhile, to 
be the subject of a later chapter. ■ 

Enough has been said to demonstrate how 
the poet had now made his mark in every 
form of literature so as to rank at the head 
of the writers of his time; and it will be seen 
not only how constant were the difficulties 
with which he had to contend, but how versa- 
tile was the power and how singular the cour- 
age that characterized all his productions. 

About this time he wrote "Le Rhin," a 
work that exhibits another side of his gen- 
ius. This consists of a series of letters, sup- 
posed to be written to a friend, giving a 
humorous account of an archaeological tour. 
The style is racy, but affords the author 
every opportunity of illustrating his wide 
erudition. Under the character of a good- 
natured savant, he cames his readers from 
Aix-la-Chapelle to Cologne, thence to May- 
ence and Frankfort, visiting the numerous 
monuments on his way, relating the various 
legends connected with town, village, or cas- 
tle, digressing into philosophy and politics, 
and introducing a number of graphic stories 
full of interest and amusement. 

He sketches as he goes, and his drawings 
manifest his unbounded admiration of the 
scenery of the river and the old "burgs" 
upon its banks. As a tourist he is singu- 
larly intrepid, clinging to branches and tufts 
of grass, and clambering aU alone to obtain 
views from the summit of the ruins. He 
describes with much minuteness the archi- 
tecture that he admires, and rarely fails tO' 
vent his wrath upon white f a9ades with gi-een 
shutters. At the same time, he sees beauties 
where others would espy defects, and owns 
that he has a perfect mania for investigating 
old tumble-down buildings and for decipher- 
ing obliterated inscriptions, declaring that 
he no more gets weary of repetitions in art 
than a lover gi-ows tired of painting the por- 
trait of his mistress. At times he is indig- 
nant at the discovery of some incongruity, 
as spiral volutes intermingled with ogives; 
but at times, too, he is enchanted by ara- 
besques that were worthy of Raphael. 

His descriptions and his illustrations are 
equally admirable : the painter and the poet 
go hand-in-hand. 

For the commonplace he seems to have 




NOTRE DAME DE PARIS. 



143 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



no eye. His affection is lavished upon the 
mediaeval ages which he had so laboriously 
brought back to life; and, as he looks upon 
the venerable ruins, nothing stirs up his 
wrath more vehemently than to see what 
attempts have been made to embellish them 



in later times, and it is a very pang to his 
heart to find any dilapidated tower of Ger- 
many not left to the beauty of natural de- 
cay, but utUized by some hideous transfor- 
mation designed as an improvement by some 
modern architect. 







» 1, 

4 **.. 




I: 









'^^1 




w- 









rn 



»- 
n 



144 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XTX. 

The Place Eoyale The Poet's Apartments. — Anguste de Chiltillon.— Victor Hugo's Salon— A Legendary 

Dais. — Literary Society lutrodnctiou to Augusta Vacquerie M. Paul Meurice, — Marriage of Charies 

Vacquerie to L^opoldiue Hugo.— Fatal Accident at Villeqiiier.— Madame Victor Hugo's Picture.— The 
Poet's Nocturnal Strolls.— Assaulted in the Kue des Tournelles. 



While the rehearsals of " Le Roi s' Amuse " 
were going on in October, 1833, Victor Hugo 
removed from the Rue Jean-Gotijon to the 
Place Royale. 

The house in wliich he took up his resi- 
dence was No. 6, the same which it was said 
had heen the home of Marion Deloime. His 
reason for settling in this locality was that he 
might be near Charles Nodier, who was then 
at the Arsenal; and it happened also about 
the same time that Theophile Gautier came 
to live at the opposite corner of the square. 
The poet's suite of apartments was on the 
second floor, and was approached by a wide 
and handsome staircase. A door opened into 
the dining-room, which was adorned with 
some fine tapestry, representing scenes in the 
"Romance of the Rose;" at the farther end 
were two doors, one leading to the salon, the 
other to a passage in which were the bed- 
chambers; beyond which was the study, a 
room full of quaint pieces of furniture, and 
overlooking an inner court-yard. 

The ceiling in the study was decorated with 
a painting by Auguste de Chfitillon, called ' ' Le 
Moine Rouge " — almost as strange a produc- 
tion as Louis Boulanger's "Ronde du Sab- 
bat," its subject being a priest robed in red 
lying full length and reading a Bible, which 
is supported by a nude female figure. ChS- 
tillon, although he could not be said to be 
famous in 1833, was acquiring a reputation 
which he never was able to maintain. He 
squandered away his talents, and ultimately 
died in extreme poverty, without leaving be- 
hind him any valuable monument of his pow- 
ers. In 1836 he painted a picture represent- 
ing the first communion of Victor Hugo's 
eldest son in the church of Pourqueux, which 
was never exhibited, but was retained by Ma- 
dame Victor Hugo in her own chamber. It 
is now in Guernsey. He likewise painted a 
portrait of Victor Hugo himself, upon which 
Mery, in his "Melodies Poetiques," has 
composed a fine ode, into which he intro- 



duced many of the leading points in the po- 
et's life. 

As for the salon, it might almost be de- 
scribed as a picture-gallery, so numerous were 
the artists, including Achille Deveria, C61es- 
tin Nanteuil, David d' Angers, and others, 
who sought the honor of being allowed to 
contribute to the decoration of the apartment. 
At one end was a high mantel-piece after the 
taste of the poet; covered with drapery, and 
holding some fine China vases; on the left 
was a sort of dais, which demands especial 
notice, inasmuch as it has given rise to some 
absurd stories. 

It has been alleged that Victor Hugo^ in 
his vanity, used to sit on a throne upon this 
dais beneath a canopy, and extend his hand 
to be kissed by his admirers, who would 
mount the steps upon their knees. As mat- 
ter of fact, there were no steps and no throne; 
there was simply some drapery arranged in 
an artistic way, having a banner, that had 
been brought from the palace of the Dey of 
Algiers, as a background, under which stood 
a common sofa, which was ordinarily used as 
a seat, although occasionally it did duty as a 
bed. About the year 1840 Victor Hugo's < 
bust was placed close beside it. 

Some arm-chairs of the time of Louis XV., 
made of gilt wood and covered with tapes- 
try, completed the furniture of the reception- 
room. 

Opposite the dais were three large windows 
reaching to the ground, and opening on to a 
balcony that ran the whole length of the sa- 
lon, and overlooked the square. Here it was 
that the poet's friends would sip their coffee 
and chat with him until quite late, especially 
on Sundays, when the gatherings would be 
most numerous. The stone balcony no longer 
exists ; it fell down shortly after the poet left 
the place. 

Never was salon more hospitable. It was 
the resort for all who had a name in litera- 
ture or art, and who came not attracted more 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



145 



by tlie gloiy of the master than by his kind- 
ness and allability. Among many otiicrs 
Pierre Dupont, tlie future author of " Les 
Boeufs," there found a weleonie, enjoying a 
fireside wliere he miglit tr_y his pinions, and, 



with seeing liis friends at lionie, rarely going 
anywhere, even to visit Charles Nodier, who 
lived close by. 

The influx of new visitors tliat now 
found their way to the Place Koyale made 




VICTOR HUGO S UOrSE IK THE PLACE KOYAI.E. 



according to Baudelaire's expression, allow 
the flowers of his brain to begin to expand. 

For some time Victor Hugo had been in 
the habit of attending the receptions of Ma- 
dame Ancelot, who called him "the great 
rebel;" but he now began to content himself 
10 



some little commotion among the earlier 
friends of the poet, and various petty jeal- 
ousies were the result. Among the older ad- 
mirers of Victor Hugo who had been drawn 
to him bj- his genius were Auguste Le Pro- 
vost, the Norman antiquary, and his fellow- 



146 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



countryman Ulric Guttinger, the poet. One 
day, however, Guttinger felt himself so neg- 
lected in comparison with the new-comers 
who were receiving such a large share of at- 
tention that he left the house in disgust, and, 
vowing that he would never cross the thresh- 
old again, started back to Normandy. In 
vain his friend Le Prevost remonstrated with 
him; he wrote him a letter urging him to ac- 
cept Hugo's invitations as an honor; but no 
representations could make Guttinger over- 
look his grievance. 

One of the most noteworthy among the 
new-comers, both on account of his talents 
and his unwavering attachment to Victor 
Hugo, was Auguste Vacquerie. He had 
come to Paris with the especial object of 
making the poet's acquaintance, and he has 
described the aspirations of his youth in a 
volume of exquisite poetry, which he sent 
forth to the world under the title of "Mes 
Premieres Annees de Paris." Born at Ville- 
quier, in La Seine Inferieure; in 1830, he com- 
menced his education at the Lycee in Rouen ; 
his school career being so successful as to 
justify him in desiring to go to the metrop- 
olis in order to devote himself to art.* His 
father, a ship-owner at Havre, readily acqui- 
esced in his wish. 

It was quite common at that time for the 
Parisian colleges to employ agents to make 
the round of the provincial schools, and to 
pick up the clever lads who would be likely 
to carry oS the prizes in open competitions, 
such success on the part of their students 
being always attended with pecuniary ad- 
vantages to the institutions themselves. One 
of these travelling agents offered an exhibi- 
tion to Auguste Vacquerie if he would come 
up to the Pension Favart. His father de- 
clined the exhibition, but Augu.ste, neverthe- 
less, proceeded to the pension in preference 
to any other, mainly because it was only a 
few steps from Victor Hugo's residence in 
the Place Royale. 

The principal at the Pension Favart con- 
sidered it would be best for his young Rou- 
en student to go in for a double second, and 
Auguste consented to the proposal. Un- 



* He has expressed his longing In a poem dedicated 
to Paul Meni'ice : 
" The world had brought the wondrous echo near, 

I longed the very voice itself to hear ; 

Bnt though for Paris ardently 1 sighed, 

Paris to me meant Hugo, nought beside ; 

Paris itself the sbrine of Hugo's fume, 

The towers of Notre Dnme proclaimed his name !" 



fortunately, at the examination, the professor 
was a whimsical old man who had a special 
aversion to Normandy and all its people, and 
who, consequently, gave him only an ordina- 
ry second-class certificate. 

Naturally disappointed, Auguste went to 
the principal and claimed his right to enter 
his name for the examination in rhetoric. 
This could not be refused him, but so irritat- 
ed was the principal at the result of the for- 
mer examination that he lost no opportunity 
of chastising the young student. One pre- 
text for punishment was of perpetual recur- 
rence. Although the educational depart- 
ment was well attended to, the domestic ar- 
rangements were miserably neglected, and 
the food was often so bad that Auguste re- 
fused to touch it, and made his meal from a 
dry crust of bread. One day when the soup 
was more disgusting than usual, and he was 
about to receive his wonted chastisement for 
daintiness, a messenger came in bringing the 
honor list from the College Charlemagne. 
A mere glance was enough to show the prin- 
cipal that the name at the head of the roll 
was that of Auguste Vacquerie. In a mo- 
ment his wrath subsided, and, tasting the 
soup, he allowed that it was " execrable, " and 
threatened to dismiss the cook. Thencefor- 
ward not only were the meals better served, 
but the successful pupil was treated with 
proper consideration. 

At this examination it was that Auguste 
Vacquerie and Paul Meurice iirst met, the 
result being a sincere and lasting friendship 
between them. Paul Meurice, the son of a 
goldsmith, had great talents and a large heart; 
he was brother, on the mother's side, of Fro- 
ment Meurice, the well-known artist.: The 
bond of union between Auguste and Paul 
was confirmed in the discovery that they 
both "lived in the same poet;" equally to 
them both the name of Victor Hugo was the 
name of a master, of whom, in ardent en- 
thusiasm, they were mutually ready to own 
themselves the loyal though humble disciples. 

Never losing sight of the inducement 
which had originally brought him to Paris, 
Auguste Vacquerie ventured after a while to 
compose an epistle in verse, stating his ambi- 
tion to be introduced to the great poet, and 
had it conveyed to the Place Royale. Victor 
Hugo, always kind to the young and obscure, 
replied that he should be most happy to re- 
ceive a visit. 

To describe the pride and ecstasy with 
which the young student received the invita- 



148 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



tion would be impossible. Like Tbeophile 
Gautier, he trembled with agitation, but lost 
no time in availing himself of the kind per- 
mission. Victor Hugo quite appreciated the 
young man's devotion, and accurately dis- 
cerned his talent. He invited him to dine 
with him nearly every week, and in a .short 
time insisted \ipon his friend Paul Meurico 



tention to him ; she constantly sent him nu- 
tritious delicacies, and when he was conva- 
lescent he felt himself bound to the poet's 
family by a still closer affection. In ac- 
knowledgment of the kind care that had 
been bestowed upon his son, M. Vacquerie 
begged to be allowed to place his chateau 
at Villequicr at Madame Victor Hugo's dis- 




CIIABM5S VACQUEIUE. 



accompanying him. The iutimac)' gradual- 
ly grew closer; the two friends were con- 
stantly in the ])oet'8 salon, especially on Sun- 
days, when nothing would delight them more 
than to take his sons for a walk. 

Just before the close of his college career 
Auguste Vacquerie fell seriously ill, and Ma- 
dame Victor Hugo was unwearied in her at- 



posal for the summer vacation. She grate- 
fully accepted the offer, and in due time 
started off with her four children, all highly 
delighted at the prospect of visiting Nor- 
mandy. 

During this holiday visit Auguste's broth- 
er Charles became acquainted with Leopol- 
dine Hugo. Falling in love almost at first 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



149 



sight, they were soon formally engaged, and 
their marriiigc took place in the following 
spring in 1843, the wedding hreakfast being 
given at the Place Royale. 

Victor Hugo expressed his good wishes for 
his daughter's happiness in some verses that 
were afterwards included in the collection 
published as " Les Contemplations:" 

** Thy luver love, and in his constant love abide ! 
That lover woues thee, wins thee, claims thee for his 
bride. 
Fain wonld we keep tlice liii2:eringhei'e awhile; 
Bat now a doable duty claims thy equal care. 
Leave us thy fond regrets, one tear of anguish spare. 
Then greet thy new abode witli beaming smile." 

Five months later this union had a fatal 
termination under most distressing circum- 
stances. 

The Vacquerie family property at Ville- 
quier is on the banks of the Seine, which is 
tidal as far as Rouen; but the periodical ris- 
ing of the water was a matter of no uneasi- 
ness to the family, who were accustomed to 
make excursions almost daily from Villequier 
to Caudebeo. One of these excursions was 
arranged for the 4th of September, when M. 
Charles Vacciuerie, 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 out- 
ing; but a sudden squall came on, and the 
boat capsized. Leopoldiue had ahvays 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 grasp- 
ed its side with convulsive alarm. Her 
husband was a good swimmer, and, anx- 
ious to carry her off, did his utmost to make 
her relax her hold. But all his efEorts were 
unavailing; in her agony she seemed to have 
embedded her finger-nails in the wood; his 
very attempt to break her fingers proved in- 
effectual. He was but a few yards from the 
shore, but finding it 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. 

They were buried in the little cemetery at 
Villequier. Close beside them lies Leopol- 
dine's mother, Madame Victor Hugo, whose 
remains, at her own dying request, were 
brought hither from Brussels in 1870, tm- 
der the care of her two devoted friends, Au- 
guste Vacquerie and Paul Meurice. 

Madame Victor Hugo felt her daughter's 
loss most acutely; her tears fell bitterly in 



the home of which she was the ornament 
and the pride. The Ad^le Fouchcr who had 
been the substttnce of his early dreams had 
now long been the presiding genius of the 
poet's household. Something of the dark 
Spanish beauty and attractive form of his 
wife may always be detected lurking be- 
neath the conception of La Esmeralda, Doiia 
Sol, Sara la Baigneuse, Thisbe, and all the 
other brunettes who animate Victor Hugo's 
poetical seraglio. Raphael perpetually re- 
produced the head of La Fornarina in his 
pictures, but Victor Hugo may be said to 
have set the first example among French- 
men of a poet devoting his lyre so constant- 
ly to his wife. 

A contemporary, in a work entitled "Les 
Jolies Femmcs de Paris et de la Province," 
has remarked this specialty by observing 
how unweariedly he seeks to immortalize 
the companion of his joys and sorrows, il- 
lustrating his notice by tlie following verses, 
which are but a specimen of others that are 
similar, and which in the original make the 
reader hardly know whether to admire most 
the poet who composed or the woman who 
inspired them; 

"To thee my duteous lyre shall sing; 
To thee its constant homage bring ! 

" None but pure and lofty deed 
Can from thy pure soul proceed ; 
Soul by passion ne'er oppressed, 
Nor l)y anger e'er distressed ! 

" Give her thy blessing, whosoe'er thou art ; 
She sheds a radiance on each loving heart 1 
To me a solace 'midst life's anxious fears, 
Itetreat hereafter in decaying years; 
A tutelary saint, Avhate'er betides. 
That o'er the Lares of my home presides I" 

As Victor Hugo's fame increased, the calm 
serenity of his early years of married life 
was necessarily somewhat disturbed by the 
troubles and anxieties that glory lirings, but 
in the Place Roj'ale Madame Victor Hugo 
relates that thej' lived in much happiness 
with the children who were their pride and 
their delight. Their friend, ]M. Louis Bou- 
langer, painted a portrait of the charming 
lady, which was exhibited at the Salon, and 
which received much notice, being thus de- 
scribed ; 

"A full, well-developed bust, white arms 
of perfect form; a pair of plump, delicate 
hands that a queen might envy ; the hips 
high, and setting off a figure that was fault- 
less in its contour and fiexibility." 

Such was the companion whom Victor 




THE ACCroENT AT VILLEQUIER. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Hugo ever cherished with the utmost tender- 
ness. Slie performed her duties as a hostess 
with infinite grace, and her iidloii, was tilled 
with celebrities like Lamartine, who would 
write verses in her all)um, and with accom- 
plished women like Madame de Girardiu. 



151 

late it might be, Victor Hugo made it a rule 
to go out for a stroll by himself; and, armed 
with nothing but a cane, would cross the 
Champs Elysees and wander as far as the 
Arc de Triomphe, Tliis was his favorite 
hour for woi-k, and he has himself informed 




AN ATTACK. 



Visitors flocked daily to the hospitable 
dwelling, attracted both by the fascinations 
of the hostess and by the refinement and 
joyousness of the poet. 

After his guests had departed, however 



us that some of his finest thoughts have 
come to him more readily in the midnight 
hours of the silent streets, and in the shadow 
of the trees that line the pathways, than in 
the solitude of his study. 



153 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



He continued this practice for a long time 
witlaout any interruption. Once, liowever, 
an accident befell him when he stumbled over 
a pile of chairs that had been left in the ave- 
nue, and over which he had to clamber; and 
once he met with an adventure of a more 
startling character. As he wa.s sauntering 
along near the Rue des Tournelles, he was 
attacked and knocked down by some pick- 
pockets who were waiting at the corner of 
the street, and he would certainly have been 
robbed if some passers-by had not disturbed 
the ruffians, and made them take to their 



heels. The poet immediately regained his- 
feet, and, running after the thieves, cane in 
hand, called out " Help! help!" but in so low 
a tone that it was plain he did not want the 
rascals to be caught. 

The attack had not the least effect in making 
him discontinue his wanderings in the dark. 
He rarely referred to the incident; and, al- 
though he has since had to contend with 
bandits of another sort, he has never ceased 
to regard Paris as the securest of all the 
cities of the world, so long as those who con- 
coct coups (Vitat are not lurking in ambush. 







VICTOR EUQO AND HIS TIME. 



153 



CHAPTER XX. 

Victor Hugo's Politics during the Beign of Louis Philippe. — His CoiivlctioDS in 1S30. — Eevolntionary Sen- 

timeuts. — Literary Liberty followed by Political Liberty.— Connection with the Press Relations with 

the King.— Portrait of Louis Philippe.— Raised to the Peerage.— First Speeches in the Chamber.— Prel- 
udes to the Revolution of 184S. 



It was the avowal of an lionest and illus- 
trious writer, "I have never passed a day 
without correcting some fault;" and it was 
almost an echo of this which Victor Hugo 
spoke when he represented himself as a son 
of this century, and, alluding to his own mod- 
ified sentiments, said, 

*' At its own folly startled, year by year. 
Some error from ray wakened soul gets clear !" 

He is ever ready to own that he has made 
political mistakes, but is quite prepared for 
his whole life to be thrown open to the in- 
spection of his contemporaries. His early 
education had the effect with him, as with 
many others at the beginning of the century, 
of introducing an apparent inconsistency into 
his principles. He was illogical, yet upright; 
a legitimist and yet a Voltairian, a Bonapart- 
ist and yet a liberal. He was a socialist grop- 
ing blindly about among the things of royal- 
ty; but, amid all the discrepancies caused by 
the struggle in his mind between the doc- 
trines he had been taught by his mother and 
the priests, and the doctrines of freedom 
which he subsequently grew to appreciate, 
he is satisfied that he never wrote a line but 
what was designed to promote the love of 
that true liberty which in philosophy is reason, 
in art is aspiration, and in politics is right. 

The briefest outline of the internal changes 
of his conscience would suffice to attest the 
sincerity of his assertions. 

By 1830 it had become impossible for him 
to put any confidence in the promises of the 
Bourbons, and he was quite prepared to swear 
allegiance to Louis Philippe. Nevertheless, 
he did not lose his respect for the past, nor 
could he bear that the name of Bourbon 
should be treated with scorn when the gray 
locks of the old king had ceased to be circled 
by a crown; but as his veneration could not 
blind his eyes to the faults that seemed insep- 
arable from the dynasty, he regarded the 
change of government as a true and necessary 
step in advance. 



Hitherto he had been " the man of letters," 
working revolution in the world of literature 
by his brilliant efforts; the time seemed to 
him now come when he was called upon 
to throw himself into political strife, and 
he joined the Revolution of July rather be- 
cause it appeared to satisfy his liberal in- 
stincts than because it roused him to any 
enthusiasm. 

His honesty was evident; for, however di- 
vergent may have been the apparent lines of 
principle he followed, it is incontestable that 
he ever kept one law, one aim, in view. Louis 
Blanc is correct in asserting that the unity of 
his life has been his one constant advance 
towards "the good," and his one determined 
ascent towards "the right;" and M. SpuUer 
is equally correct when, in his recent eulo- 
gium, he pronounces that the three French 
poetical geniuses of the nineteenth century — 
Chateaubriand, Lamartine, and Hugo — aE 
born outside the pale of the Revolution, 
proved the very men to come forward to 
serve and glorify the democracy; and he im- 
plies that Victor Hugo is the greatest of them 
all, as having defended the social truths that 
will be the law of future society. 

Hitherto, however, Victor Hugo had never 
believed that the formation of a republic was 
practicable. At that time he could write in 
his "Journal de ses Idees et de ses Opinions 
Re'folutionnaires " such sentiments as these : 

"What we want is a republican govern- 
ment under the name of a monarchy." 

"To-day is for kings, to-morrow for the 
people." 

" Some people think that a republic means 
a warfare waged by those who Lave neither 
brains, money, nor virtue, against those who 
have all or any of the three." 

" Of that republic not yet matured, but 
which all Europe is destined to see a century 
hence, my own idea is that of society gov- 
erned by society itself: a national guard for 
its defence; a jury for its judge; a commune 



154 



VICTOR RUOO AND HIS TIME. 



for its administration; an electoral college for 
its government." 

"In such a republic the four appurte- 
nances of a monarchy — the army, the magis- 
tracy, the cabinet, and the peerage — will be 
excrescences that will speedily wither and 
die away." 

"The electoral law will be complete when 
its Article I. shall be — Every Frenchman is 
an elector ; and its Article II. — Every French- 
man is eligible." 

"Revolution is the embryo of civilization." 

Such pronounced sentiments were alto- 
gether in advance of public opinion. At that 
time the citizen-king, in the eyes of the ma- 
jority of the people, represented the best of 
republics; the republicans, themselves with- 
out power or organization, regarding the new- 
ly established monarchy as a dawn in which 
nothing was wanting, " not even the cock." 

With age and experience Victor Hugo's 
■old royalist and Catholic prepossessions crum- 
bled away piecemeal; and, according to his 
■own showing, if any fragment of them sur- 
vived in his mind, it was only like a ruin at 
which he might gaze with veneration, but at 
which he could never again pour forth his 
devotion. He deems it a poor compliment 
to a man to say that he has not modified his 
political opinions for forty years. It is to 
his view equivalent to asserting that he has 
had no experience and gained no fresh power 
of thought; like praising water for being 
stagnant, or a tree for being dead; it is like 
preferring an oyster to an eagle. All opinion 
is liable to variation, and nothing should be 
absolute in politics except their morality. 
Movement belongs to vitality, and the politi- 
cal creed of a man may change without dis- 
honor to himself, so long as his conscience 
remains uncorrupt and his convictions are 
not subordinate to his interests. 

The formation of Victor Hugo's character 
is all the more laudable because he had made 
every step of his progress only by a resolute 
struggle with himself, never ceasing to per- 
severe in comprehending what is right, and 
never flinching from the greatest sacrifices in 
order to attain to what is true. 

There are those who have said of Victor 
Hugo, " He is the greatest of poets, but noth- 
ing in politics ; " but they speak either ma- 
liciously, lacking his integrity, or else ig- 
norantly, lacking his foresight. There are 
those likewise who reproach him for his 
fickleness; such, however, for the most part, 
have been the creatures of Louis Philippe, 



who afterwards kissed the hand of the em- 
peror, accepting offices and honors from 
"the man of December," while the object of 
their revilings, in vindication of his honesty, 
has stood alone and made his protest against 
violated law and outraged justice. 

And now, after 1830, he became the reflex 
of the popular mind. Like the people, he 
seemed to hesitate, sharing their shifting emo- 
tions during the troublous reign of Louis Phi- 
lippe. Checked in her aspirations, France 
seemed hardly to realize whether she was un- 
der a monarchy or a republic, and honest 
minds were led away to confound liberalism 
with Bonapartism, and to regard progress 
with a kind of suspicion; but Victor Hugo 
saw farther than the people. Brought face 
to face with the general agitation and with 
the rebellious spirits that were harassing the 
heart of society, he felt it his duty to fling 
himself into the conflict : 

"Nought, nought but shame 
To thiukers who their members maim, 
And who themselves will mutilate 
Sighing to leave the city gate 1" 

He asked himself what a government bom 
of a population in revolt was likely to effect; 
and in 1833, after one of the insurrections so 
common at the time, when Paris was put into 
a state of siege, in which bloodshed appeared 
imminent, and the National published a pro- 
test to which signatures might be appended, 
he requested that his own name might be 
added to the list. 
In writing to one of his friends, he said, 
" I trust that they will not venture to sprin- 
kle the walls of Grenelle with young brains, 
which, though hasty, were yet generous. If 
the guardians of public order should resolve 
upon a political execution, and if four brave 
men would rise up to rescue tJie victims, I 
would join them as a fifth. . . . 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." 

Thus already, notwithstanding the conflict- 
ing sentiments that were agitating his mind, 
the Victor Hugo of Guernsey and Jersey can 
be discerned, and already "the tribune is ap- 
pearing from beneath the dreamer." No 
sooner did he make the open avowal that he 
deemed it unworthy of himself to take no in- 
terest in public questions than the newspa- 
pers sought his co-operation; and fimile de 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



155 



^Girardin, on starting La Presse, a journal des- 
tined to exercise a considerable influence 
upon public opinion, was extremely anxious 
to have Victor Hugo for its sponsor. The 
poet accordingly drew up the prospectus, in- 
troducing a passage to this eif ect : 

" Let us endeavor to rally men of the high- 
est gifts and the highest spirit round the idea 
of progress, so as to form a superior party 
qualified to represent the civilization of those 
who hardly fathom their own desires." 

It was an elevating design, the formation 
of such a party being ever the dream of 
upright men, weary of revolutions and reac- 
tion. 

The prefaces to the various volumes of 
Victor Hugo's poetry during the early days 
of constitutional monarchy exhibit to how 
large an extent politics all along had been 
occupying his thoughts. In 1831, when ' ' Les 
Feuilles d'Automne" appeared, he consid- 
■ ered revolutions as changes fraught with glo- 
rious issues for time and for humanity. In 
the preface to "Marion Delorme" he states 
that the shock produced by the Revolution 
of July was an effort for freedom that was a 
necessity for art ; while in the preface to 
"Les Rayons et les Ombres " he expresses his 
■desire that no ill-feeling towards the king 
may intrude itself into his affection for the 
people; and in the introduction to the " Con- 
templations " he describes himself as a spirit 
proceeding from light to light, after having 
passed through visions of tumult, trouble, 
.and strife. 

Step by step the change is effected; study 
.and meditation bring it about that he beholds 
a republic diffusing its glory over the future, 
.and to an old friend who was wont to deplore 
his altered views he gives his own account of 
his conversion: 

" Must I still wear the chnin of ignorance, forsooth, 
Because a narrow teaching trained my early youth P 
Because La Vendee once obscured La France, must I 
' Get thee behind me ' to the dawning spirit cry ? 
Must I go on forever Breton's fame to raise, 
•Choman, not Marcean, Stofflet and not Danton 

praise ? 
Because of old the royalist song I joyed to chant. 
Must I, unwise, to freedom's progress cry Avauut? 
'Nay, nay; no longer cloistered in a narrow cell, 
To wider, nobler scope my soul's true instincts 

swell." 

The modification of his political creed was 
so natural and so honest that it need not be 
any further illustrated. Like many of his 
contemporaries, he groped his way slowly 
but surely towards the light, and he may 



justly feel proud of the course that he has 
taken. 

It was not long before he came to be on 
almost intimate terms with Louis Philippe. 
The king, who at first had only admired him 
as a writer, grew to be much interested in 
him personally. Victor Hugo's opinion of 
the king is given at length in a striking chap- 
ter of "Les Miserables," in which he has 
borne favorable testimony to the ruler of 
whose throne he did not approve, but of whose 
kindness he was the recipient. He has been 
discriminating and just in his judgment, with- 
out manifesting either contempt or partiality, 
dealing fairly with him as a sovereign, and 
leniently with him as a man. 

Others have been much more severe, ex- 
pressing their regret, with some show of rea- 
son, that Louis Philippe did not make an effort 
to organize the democracy, and contending 
that he neither understood nor cared for the 
laboring classes. 

According to Daniel Stern (Madame 
d'Agoult), who wrote one of the best histo- 
ries of the Revolution of 1848, it was his aim 
to keep a high-minded nation down to the 
level of an upstart lourgeoim, which, in its 
narrow-minded egotism, furnished him with 
the type, and almost, it might be said, with 
the material, for his government. 

So far, however, was he from entertaining 
any real regard for the bourgeoisie which he 
was endeavoring to conciliate, that he did 
his utmost to enslave and debase it. To 
grow rich became the corrupt ambition of 
the middle-class, and it was precisely in con- 
sequence of this that in the hour of his mis- 
fortunes there was no manifestation of de- 
voted courage or generous disinterestedness 
on his behalf. When the democracy awoke 
to power, those whom he thought he had 
made subservient to himself abandoned him 
with utter indifference. 

In literature, as in everything else, Louis 
Philippe was a sceptic, and for art had no 
shadow of genuine care. Upon this point 
the opposition journals left him no peace, 
and it was by way of making some gracious 
advances towards the poets that, upon the 
marriage of the Due d'Orleans, Victor Hugo 
was invited to attend the festivities at Ver- 
sailles. The invitation was at first declined; 
but the bridegroom, at the instigation, it is 
said, of his young bride, again sent him so 
pressing a message that he was induced to re- 
consider his determination. He went to Ver- 
sailles, and was introduced to the duchess, 



156 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



who received the author of "Notre Dame de 
Paris " with the graceful compliment, 

" The first building, monsieur, that I visited 
on coming to Paris was ycmr church." 

This introduction, which took place in 
June, 1837, was the prelude to numerous in- 
terviews between the king and Victor Hugo. 

After having thoroughly determined to de- 
vote himself to politics, he began to entertain 
the idea of getting returned for the Chamber 
of Deputies, notwithstanding the diflBculties 
that lay in the way of his eligibility. In this 
project he was promised every possible assist- 
ance by Paul Meurice's brother Froment. This 
talented artist was the restorer of an art that 
had fallen into decay; and many of his cas- 
kets, vases, ewers, and swords are master- 
pieces of their kind. His occupation as a 
goldsmith and jeweller gave him a very con- 
siderable influence in the city, which he was 
quite prepared to place at the disposal of the 
new candidate; but the elections were post- 
poned, and the design was abandoned. 

His admission to the Academy afterwards 
gave him the requisite qualification for being 
nominated to the peerage, though he had the 
prospect in his early days of deriving a title 
in two separate ways, as two of his mother's 
cousins — M. de Chasseboeuf (Volney) and M 
Cornet — had been peers of France. There is 
no doubt that M. de Chasseboeuf would have 
gladly left his title to his young kinsman if 
he had not considered his political views too 
advanced. M. Comet, moreover, had actually 
decided upon making liim his heir; but his 
mother, Madame Hugo, had protested against 
his consenting to add the name of Cornet to 
his own, declaring that "Hugo-Cornet" was 
too ridiculous to be tolerated. 

Thus practically precluded from acquiring 
a title by inheritance, the poet found another 
avenue to the Chamber. Discovering, al- 
though somewhat tardily, that the brilliant 
intellect of Yictor Hugo might be made ser- 
viceable to him, Louis Philippe invited him 
to come and see him, and the visits gradually 
became more and more frequent. On one of 
these occasions the king, always remarkable 
for conversational power, found his visitor's 
society so agreeable that he forgot all about 
the hour; and the servants in the Tuileries, 
imagining that their master had retired to 
rest as usual, put out all the lights and went 
to bed. When at last the guest rose to take 
his leave, Louis Philippe, discovering what 
had happened, took up one of the large can- 
delabra from the table of the room where he 



was sitting, and escorted the poet down the- 
staircase, staying to talk with him a consid- 
erable time longer in the hall. 

Victor Hugo had always a great facility of 
speech. His phraseology is easy, fluent, and 
intelligent. His marvellous memory, his pow- 
er of imagination, and vivacity combine to 
make his conversation unusually attractive;, 
and he has the rare faculty of being able to 
introduce into what he says the striking an- 
tithesis which is so characteristic a feature ia 
his writings. There are not a few authors 
who only have control over their thoughts 
while they are sitting at their writing-desk;, 
with him it was always the case that he could 
bring his ideas at once to bear, and could 
clothe them with the attraction, of personal 
kindness. This accounts for his success with. 
Louis Philippe, who, though perpetually re- 
proached with setting no value on poets until 
they became politicians, certainly professed a. 
high regard for him. 

More and more the salon in the Place Roy^ 
ale became transformed into a political ren- 
dezvous, and on the 13th of April, 1845, Vic- 
tor Hugo was made a French peer. The. 
choice was hailed with much satisfaction by 
the general public, and only a few republi- 
cans, who were by no means content with 
the liberalism of the Chamber, manifested 
any discontent. One anonymous satirist 
launched forth at him a series of little verses, 
of which the wit was supposed to reside in 
their being published to represent the tail of 
a congreve rocket: 

"Grand, petit 

Tout f i u i t, 

L o i s 11 p V e ra e ! 

Hugo m e lu e 

La s u b i t, 

Vivace 

II passe 

Pair !" 

Victor Hugo, however, now republican in 
heart, and who had done so much to break 
down the old literary regime, had but little- 
affection for the peerage, which he regarded, 
as the remnant of an antiquated political 
system. Nevertheless, it was the only chan- 
nel that seemed open to him by which h& 
could associate himself with political trans- 
actions, and by accepting the dignity he no' 
more compromised his conscience than did 
the democrats who swore allegiance to the 
Empire, because it was their only means of 
defending the rights of the democracy. 

Some idea may be formed of the venerable 
age of the French peers at that time when 




VICTOR HUGO AKD LOUIS PniLIPPB. 



158 



VICTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



it is recorded that the new statesman took 
his place by the side of the Vicomte de 
Pontecoulant, who had voted for the death 
of Louis XVI. In front of him sat Soult, 
who had been a marechal since 1803; while 
the president was Due Pasquier, who, as a 
young councillor, had passed sentence on 
Beaumarchais, who died in 1799. 

At first the newly created peer professed 
himself an independent conservative; and, 
while he did all the justice he could to the 
monarch who from the throne promulgated 
words of universal peace, he refused to be 
subservient to the policy of his ministers. 

He mounted the tribune for the first time 
on the 18th of February, 1846, when, after 
his two rivals, Lamartine and Chateaubriand, 
had been making some powerful speeches, 
he made a vigorous defence of artists and 
their copyright. On the 10th of the follow- 
ing month he delivered his first political ha- 
rangue, on the subject of Poland. 

M. Guizot had avowed his conviction that 
France could do nothing towards re-estab- 
lishing the Polish nationality. Victor Hugo 
unhesitatingly denounced so selfish a policy; 
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 audi- 
ence 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. 

He might as well have spoken to the winds. 
To assert in the French Chamber of Peers 
that the oppression of a people is an offence 
against law or justice was a sort of heresy. 
His speech was very coldly received. 

His next effort was to consolidate some 
measures for the protection of the coast, and 
he entered into many technical details, and 
gave much practical advice. 

In June, 1847, he supported the petition of 
Prince Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, request- 
ing that his family might be permitted to re- 
turn to France. In his speech he exhorted 
the Chamber to be magnanimous, and to evi- 
dence its strength by its generosity; he pro- 
nounced it to be repugnant to his feelings 
that any countryman of his should be an 
exile or an outlaw, and he asserted that it 
was impossible for any pretender to be other- 
wise than harmless in the midst of a nation 



where there was freedom of work and free-- 
dom of thought; in mercifulness they would 
establish their power. 

On the evening of the same day on which 
this appeal had been urged, Louis Philippe, 
after reading the speech, informed Mar§chaL 
Soult, the president of his council, that he 
had come to the conclusion to allow the 
Bonapartes to return to the country. 

Early in 1848 Victor Hugo made an ora- 
tion in favor of Italian unity. The Pope, 
Pius IX., was at that time regarded as a 
revolutionist in many quarters, in conse- 
quence of certain prospects of liberty which 
he was holding out, although he afterwards 
falsified them all by his Syllabus; and, in 
spite of vehement opposition, Victor Hugo 
took up the matter, and pleaded for the uni- 
fication of the Italian government. 

However much all these parliamentary 
struggles occupied his energies, they did not 
prevent him either from continuing his po- 
etical labors, or from exercising a powerful 
influence upon literatm-e generally. Nor did 
he neglect his friends; for about this time he 
obtained the dramatic editorship of L'Epoqiie 
for Auguste Vacquerie, whose talents he just- 
ly appreciated. 

Simultaneously with Lamartine he notified 
his adhesion to Louis Blanc, who was then 
about to start the Bevue du Progrls, and he 
wrote to him to say that the next great work 
to be effected was the peaceful, gradual, and 
logical formation of a social order, in which 
the principles newly evolved by the Revolu- 
tion should be combined with the ancient, 
and eternal principles of all true civilization, 
the basis of the order being that social ques- 
tions should be substituted for political. 

Already he had warned the ruling powers- 
that they must bestow a more active atten- 
tion upon the masses of the people, who were 
so courageous, intelligent, and patriotic; al- 
ready he had set forward the consequences 
of the government of July; he saw how con- 
science was becoming debased, corruption 
was on the increase, and that the highest 
offices were being beset with the basest of 
passions. All this filled him with profound 
regret. 

If Louis Philippe's government had only 
been true to its promises, upholding liberty 
and devoting itself to the solution of social 
difficulties, there can hardly be a doubt that 
the great poet, overflowing with benevolence, 
would have remained a social philosopher, 
content to be watchful, and suggesting coun- 



VICTOR HUaO AND HIS TIME. 



159 



sels of philanthropy; hut whon the errors of 
that government drove the people into insur- 
rection, and the tempest arose that swept 
away the throne, Victor Hugo was. impelled 
into more decided action. At first, mindful 
of his oath of allegiance, he proposed that 
the Duchess of Orleans should he declared 



regent; hut suhsequently, carried along with 
the current of the time, he gave his assent to 
the Kepuhlic, which he has defined as heing 
a "social majesty," and wliich, as our an- 
cestors have beheld it great and terriljle in 
the past, he hoped that posterity would he- 
hold grand and beneficent in the future. 




160 



VICTOR HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXI. 

Elections for the Constitnent AsBembly.— AddvesB to the Electors Speeches in the Assembly.— Socialist 

Opinions. — Opinion on the Events of Jnne Republican Convictions.— Pardon to the Vanquished.- 

Rescue of Insurgents.— Victor Schcclcher.— Independent Votes.— Publication of I/'Si)^»icmm(.— Prospectus 
of the Paper.— Dissolution of Constituent Assembly.- The Legislative Assembly.— Bonaparte President. 
—A Trilogy.— The Coup d'lStat. 



As Victor Hugo has himself acknowledged, 
he had some hesitation, in 1848, iu deciding 
what line he should follow. For the time, he 
says, liberty lui masqua la RepuUique; it 
closed his eyes for the present to the form of 
government which he was ultimately to sup- 
port so ardently. 

In the month of March some electors wrote 
to him, proposing that he should become a 
candidate for the National Assembly. He 
replied that he was at the service of his 
country; his antecedents were well known; 
he had written thirty-two books and eight 
dramas ; his speeches could all be read in Le 
Moniteur, and consequently the world was 
capable of judging whether he was suited 
for a political career. 

In accordance with the new electoral law, 
which was the basis of universal suffrage, 
and the most democratic that had hitherto 
been carried anywhere, the elections were 
fixed by the Provisional Government for the 
33d of April. 

The first name drawn from the urn was 
that of Lamartine, with 859,800 votes; it was 
followed by the names of Dupont (de I'Eure), 
Arago, Garnier-PagSs, Armand Marast, Marie, 
and Cremieux. Victor Hugo was not elect- 
ed; he was forty-eighth in the Paris list, with 
59,446 votes; BarbSs and Lacordaire, who 
also were not elected, having a few more 
votes ; General Changarnier, Kaspail, and 
Pierre Leroux having polled a few less. 

Within six weeks, in consequence either 
of the retirement of some candidates or of 
the double election of others, Paris had to 
elect eleven new representatives; and in re- 
sponse to the solicitation of 60,000 electors, 
Victor Hugo again came forward. 

He expounded his views in a telling speech, 
delivered shortly before the election at a 
meeting of the five associations of art and 
industry ; he was much applauded, and on 
the day of election received 86,965 votes, his 
name as a successful candidate appearing. 



by a strange coincidence, between those of 
Pierre Leroux and Louis Napoleon Bona- 
parte. Caussidifere, General Changarnier, 
Thiers, and Proudhon were elected at the 
same time. 

Not immediately on his election did he de- 
cide what part to take in the Assembly. With 
his personal freedom from ambition and prej- 
udice, on being first called to take a part in 
the administration of public affairs, he did 
not draw any definite line of action, but con- 
tented himself by voting independently, ac- 
cording to his conscience, now with the Right 
and now with the Left, without identifying 
himself with any section. 

His first speech was made on the 30th of 
June, when he took part in the debate upon 
the national factories. These had now been 
in operation for four months, and had brought 
about none but deplorable results. Admit- 
ting the necessity which might seem to justify 
their establishment, he insisted that practi- 
cally they had had a most disastrous influ- 
ence upon business, and pointed out the seri- 
ous danger which they threatened, not alone 
to the finances but to the population of Paris. 
As a socialist he addressed himself to social- 
ists, and invoked them to labor in' behalf of 
the perishing, but to labor 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 civili- 
zation, 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. In conclu- 
sion, he recommended patience alike towards 
the people themselves and towards those who 
were desirous of ameliorating their condi- 
tion. 

It was a speech that betokened a rupture 
with the reactionary party. The noble senti 
ments that he uttered found an echo, and 
thenceforward Victor Hugo's pleading of the 
cause of the degraded and oppressed earned 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



161 



him the gratitude and gained him the love 
of those whose welfare he desired. 

Yet, as a representative, he allied himself 
with the guardians of the public peace. He 
was anxious, above all things, to prevent blood- 
shed. He went from barricade to barricade, 
entreating the insurgents, and bidding them, 
in the name of the National Assembly, to lay 
down their arms; at the risk of his life he 
forced his way where the uproar was loudest 
— into the Rue St. Louis and the Rue Vieille 
du Temple. But effort was in vain. Noth- 
ing could avert the tragedy of the three days 
of June. 

Was this terrible insurrection necessary? 
Was it right ? Such are the questions that 
Victor Hugo asked in the beginning of the 
book which he entitled ' ' Depuis I'Exil. " And 
in giving his own reply he says that he is 
tempted to say both Yes and No; "Yes," if 
the end to be accomplished by the Republic 
is taken into consideration : ' ' No, " if only the 
means employed be regarded — means which 
involved the fatal mistake of slaying what it 
ought to save. 

He goes on to say : 

" The insurrection of June took a mistaken 
course; but, alas! the very thing that espe- 
cially made it terrible was that it demanded 
respect. It was the outcome of a people's 
despair. The first duty of the Republic was 
to suppress the revolt ; the next was to pardon 
it. The National Assembly met the former 
obligation, but failed in the latter, and for the 
omission will be held responsible by History. " 

We shall have occasion to remark here- 
after how precisely similar to these were the 
sentiments which Victor Hugo expressed 
about the Communist insurrection in 1870. 

In 1848 he was not slow in putting his 
theories into practice, by saving the lives of 
several of the insurgents. 

When he returned to his apartments in the 
Place Royale, he discovered that the rooms 
had all been ransacked by the rebels, in the 
hope of finding arms, but that no further 
theft or mischief had been committed, and 
he found the house now occupied by a troop 
of the National Guard, who accused the con- 
cierge of opening a back door to the insur- 
gents, and, having made him kneel down 
against a wall, were about to shoot him forth- 
with. Victor Hugo, with equal promptitude 
and earnestness, represented to the soldiers 
how such retaliation would be of no service, 
and only sully their own reputation; and the 
man's life was accordingly spared. 
11 



Others whom he was the means of rescuing 
from summary punishment were a literary 
man whose name we have forgotten, an ar- 
chitect named Roland, Georges BiscaiTat, the 
nephew of his old tutor at the Pension Cor- 
dier, the Comte de Fouch§court, a legitimist 
who had taken an active part in the insurrec- 
tion, and four more; all of whom, at the im- 
minent risk of his personal safety, he con- 
veyed past the sentinels under the pretext 
that they were his own servants. 

And he was not content with saving those 
who thus casually came in his way. At an 
early meeting of the Assembly he proposed 
that an entire amnesty should be proclaimed. 
Immediately a man rose and embraced him. 

That man was Victor Schoeloher, of whom 
Lamartine has said, "He has never thought 
of himself for an hour. Justice is in his ev- 
ery breath, sacrifice in his every movement, 
uprightness in his every word ; all his thoughts 
lead upwards to what we call heaven; and 
yet he is a materialist, owning not the exist- 
ence of God. How can such a man evolve 
such virtue from himself?" He was one of 
the most energetic advocates for the emanci- 
pation of the negroes, and became one of the 
poet's most faithful friends. It was a delight 
not soon to be forgotten to hear them discuss 
their sentiments. Spiritualism was the one 
subject on which they did not agree, but in 
spite of this diversity in creed they were one 
in heart ; in goodness they are the same. 

During Cavaignac's administration Victor 
Hugo did not entirely separate himself from 
the Moderates; he repudiated the project of 
taldng proceedings against Louis Blanc and 
Caussidifere; he refused to declare that Ca- 
vaignac deserved the gratitude of his country; 
and he opposed the formation of the consti- 
tution that was proposed on the ground that 
he approved of two Chambers, and held a 
single Chamber to be dangerous, if not disas- 
trous. This opinion has been combated by 
many arguments, but it can hardly be ques- 
tioned that the existence of a second Chamber 
at the time would probably have interposed 
an insuperable obstacle to the coup d'etat. 

Victor Hugo went on to claim liberty for 
the press, which had been temporarily sus- 
pended during the state of siege. He also 
pleaded for the abolition of capital punish- 
ment; and, in common with a number of his 
colleagues who were not discerning enough 
to anticipate the future, he opposed Grevy's 
amendment, which, by suppressing the presi- 
dency of the Republic, would have rendered 



162 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



the establishment of the Empire impossi- 
ble. 

It was in his anxiety to use every means 
for the advancement of liberty that on the 
1st of April, 1848, he started L'3i)enement, a 
journal whose design was declared by its 
motto, "Intense hatred to anarchy, tender 
love for the people. " At first it was proposed 
to call this paper La PensSe. It is a curious 
monument of French journalism. The pro- 
spectus, drawn up by the poet himself, thus 
describes its intention : 

"This journal will be a daily attack of fe- 
ver to the nation in travail with civilization. 
France, from her pangs, will soon bring forth 
a constitution, and then more tranquil days 
wlU dawn. Constitutions require storms for 
their birth, peace and quietness for their life. 
The human heart is even as the soil; it re- 
quires first the plough and afterwards the 
sun. 

"Our present purpose is to secure work 
and to develop art; work to supply men's 
bodies with sustenance, art to supply their 
souls with nourishment. We want to banish 
from the brightness of our sphere the last fa- 
tal shadows of ignorance, which makes the 
night-time of the heart." 

The contributors to the paper were Au- 
guste Vacquerie, Paul Meurice, Theophile 
Gautier, the poet's two sons, Auguste Vitu, 
with several others. 

What has been said about the paper hav- 
ing been issued for Victor Hugo's private 
emolument or personal advantage is entirely 
false. Admired and respected — nay, loved — 
by the people, he had no thought beyond the 
people's benefit. There can be no doubt that 
he was actuated by the desire to eradicate 
the prejudice which he deemed to be absurd, 
that because a man was a poet he was there- 
fore incompetent to deal with human affairs. 
The journal, in its enthusiasm, described the 
editor as "arm and head, steel and torch, 
strength and gentleness, conqueror and legis- 
lator, king and prophet, lyre and sword;" 
above all, it defended the cause of the Rev- 
olution. Nevertheless, its early success was 
changed into ultimate failure. 

On the 39th of January, in the following 
year, amid murmurs of strong dissatisfaction 
from the Left, a motion was brought forward 
that it would be for the public advantage if 
the Constituent Assembly were dissolved and 
a Legislative Assembly elected in its place. 
The motion was carried, and a dissolution 
ensued. 



Under the auspices of the pronounced rev- 
olutionary party, Victor Huge came forward 
as a candidate in May, and was elected, his 
name standing tenth on the list of the twenty- 
eight deputies for Paris. 

In the new Assembly, his attitude was no 
longer one of hesitation. He had now reck- 
oned up the requirements of the times, and 
as the truth revealed itself his perplexities 
vanished. At once and forever he severed 
himself from his former friends and became 
the most powerful organ of the republican 
party. 

Both by word of mouth and by his pen, he 
has distinctly avowed that the year 1849 is 
a great era in his life, as then he first grasped 
the problems that had to be solved, and th 
reforms that had to be made. He beheld thi 
majority casting aside its mask of hypocrisy, 
and he understood it all. "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, banish- 
ment, and scorn ; but he took it unto him as 
a wife ! . . . From that moment there existed 
within his very soul the union between Lib- 
erty and the Republic. . . . Such is the his- 
tory of what has been called his apostasy."* 

As the champion of democracy he now be- 
gan to mount the tribune more frequently. 
On the questions of education, electoral re- 
form, transportation, the protection of the 
press, and the reorganization of the Constitu- 
tion, he was ever anxious to give his opinion; 
and his speeches, full of fire and marked by 
a captivating eloquence, moved the Assembly, 
on the one hand, to admiration, and, on the 
other, to wrath. For the next three years 
there was a succession of oratorical contests 
as brilliant as they were impassioned. 

In one of the speeches which may be reck- 
oned among his masterpieces, Victor Hugo 
made the statement that he held misery to be 
a thing that it was quite possible to annihi- 
late. A storm of dissent immediately broke 
out from the Right. M. Poujoulat shouted 
that it was "a downright fallacy," while M. 
Benolt d'Azy, supported by the majority, 
maintained that such a proposition was sim- 
ply ridiculous. 

At this period it was that the melancholy 
episode in Italian history occurred wherein 
Rome was entered by the French, and the 

* " Le Droit et la Lol." 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



163 



Pope was restored to the protection of the 
tricolor. For a consideral)le time Victor 
Hugo liad loolved upon Pius IX. as a man of 
liberal sentiments; but now lie declared that 
the papacy was holding itself isolated from 
the general march of intellect, and failed to 
comprehend aright the demands of the peo- 
ple and the age. His denunciation of the 
abuses which followed in the train of eccle- 
siastical domination called forth against him 
the invectives of M. Montalembert, who re- 
proached him with his treachery, not only 
quoting some of his earlier verses, but jeering 
him unmercifully for having to submit to 
such a chastisement as the applause of repub- 
licans. 

The poet's reply was simple enough : 

" Call it chastisement if you will; I regard 
it as an honor. Other applause like that of 
the tormentors of Hungary, or the oppressors 
of Poland, I count not. Let those accept it 
who choose. .There was a time — I regret to 
have to remind M. Montalembert of it — there 
was a time when he employed his noble tal- 
ents 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 tlie side of the 
oppressors; I have remained on the side of 
the oppressed." 

The speech had the effect of quieting M. 
Montalembert; but his supporters, men who 
afterwards swore fidelity to the Empire, kept 
up their raillery, calling Victor Hugo a sun- 
worshipper, and taunting him with his con- 
version. Once, when he referred to the threat- 
ened dictatorship, and ventured to speak of 
the United States of Europe, M. Mole rose up 
and left the Assembly in indignation, imagin- 
ing that he would be followed by the major- 
ity; but, discovering that the deputies kept 
their seats, he had to return to his place again 
somewhat discomfited and abashed. No 
amount of uproar, hisses, or laughter ever 
discomposed Victor Hugo. He calmly re- 
clined with hal'f-closed eyes against the side 
of the tribune, and was always prepared, as 
soon as the noise had subsided, gravely to 
take up the thread of his discourse, and to 
vindicate the opinions for which he counted 
no sacrifice too great, in defence of the peo- 
ple and their rights. 

On the 31st of August, 1849, the Peace 
Congress was held in Paris. Victor Hugo 
was elected president, and Mr. Cobden vice- 
Vresident. 
' In his opening address the poet offered 



greetings to those who had come from the 
most distant parts of the world, inspired by 
one grand and holy thought. He spoke to 
them as men who had met together to work, 
not for the benefit of a single nation, but for 
the welfare of all nations. He addressed them 
as a throng of representatives coming on a 
mission of mercy, and bringing the best sen- 
timents of the most illustrious peoples.' 

" You have come," he said, " to turn over, 
if it may be, the last and most august page of 
the Gospel, the page that ordains peace among 
the children of the one Creator; and here in 
this city, which has rejoiced to proclaim fra- 
ternity to its own citizens, you have assem- 
bled to proclaim fraternity to all men. Wel- 
come, welcome to you all!" 

The orator then proceeded to demonstrate 
his view that peace — universal peace — was 
not only an object that was attainable, but 
was a result that was inevitable; maintaining 
that as its final accomplishment might be re- 
tarded, so also it might be accelerated. 

This prediction of the future concord of 
nations was couched in terms equally elevated 
and pathetic, and his speech was repeatedly 
interrupted by loud bursts of applause. 

For three days the congress discussed the 
great question with di.gnity and propriety, 
but it was the final session on the 24th that 
was most crowded and enthusiastic. 

In his closing speech, Victor Hugo ex- 
claimed, "From this day forward, gentle- 
men, we have a common fatherland; we are 
henceforth all compatriots. . . . What, for 
the last three days, has been the vision before 
your gaze? It has been that of England 
grasping the hand of France, and America 
grasping the hand of Europe. I know not 
what sight could be finer. . . . And now go 
back to your homes, and announce that you 
have come from your fellow-countrymen of 
France." 

While, that morning, M. I'Abbe Duquerry, 
the cure of the Madeleine, had been speaking 
on the subject of charity, a member of the 
congress had interrupted him, to remind him 
that the 34th of August was St. Bartholo- 
mew's Day. The venerable priest had sim- 
ply turned his head awaj', as if he rejected 
the association. Victor Hugo, however, took 
occasion to refer to the coincidence. 

"Yes," he said, "on this very day, two 
hundred and seventy - seven years ago, this 
city of Paris was aroused in terror amid 
the darkness of the night. The bell, known 
as the silver bell, chimed from the Palais 



164 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



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 be- 
neath 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 actu- 
ally Papists and Huguenots have been con- 
tent to meet, happy — nay, proud — to unite 
themselves together in an embrace alike hon- 
orable and indissoluble." 

As he pronounced these words, M. I'Abbe 
Duquerry and M. Coquerel, the Protestant 
pastor, threw themselves into each other's 
arms in front of the president's chair. En- 
thusiastic applause broke from the platform 
and from the audience in the public seats; 
English and Americans rose to their feet, 
waving their hats and handkerchiefs, and, at 
the prompting of Mr. Cobden, gave three 
times three cheers for the orator. 

In January, 1850, M. de Falloux, who had 
been appointed Minister of Public Instruc- 
tion, brought in a new educational bill, 
which seemed to many to give the monopoly 
of teaching into the hands of the clergy. In 
the debate that ensued M. Barthelem}' Saint- 
Hilaire declared himself a most decided ad- 
versary' to the proposed law, and was fol- 
lowed by Victor Hugo, who criticised it with 
extreme severity. He affirmed that, with his 
consent, the education of youth should never 
be intrusted to the clerical party, who were 
ever seeking to put restrictions on the human 
mind ; the Church and State must each hold 
its separate course. " Your law," he said to 
M. de Falloux, " 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!' " 

A few months later Victor Hugo felt him- 
self called upon to raise his voice against the 
law of transportation, under which political 
criminals were not only to be sent to Nouka- 
hiva, but were liable to be shut up in citadels. 
A convict, TronQon-Ducoudray, aptly desig- 
nated its aim as "a dry guillotine." The 



poet, on this occasion, delivered a speech of 
great oratorical power; he appealed strenu- 
ously for mercy to the vanquished, and 
warned the conquerors not to assign penal- 
ties which sooner or later might return upon 
their own heads. He asserted that there 
were far better occupations than creating 
political galleys, and that while the problems 
of civilization were waiting to be solved 
there was no time to be lost in devising 
schemes of mischief to one another. 

The very day after the delivery of his 
speech a subscription was set on foot to dis- 
tribute it over the country. M. de Girardin 
proposed that a medal should be struck, 
bearing an effigy of the orator, and having 
for its motto the extract from the harangue, 
"When men introduce injustice into their 
laws, God supplies the justice, and, through 
the law, smites the authors of it." The 
government could not interfere to prevent 
the issue of the medal, but it put a veto 
upon the inscription. 

And now the hour was approaching when 
M. Thiers was to make the announcement 
that "the Empire is made !" — the hour in 
which was enacted one of the most odious 
and bloody crimes ever registered in history. 

For some time Victor Hugo had foreboded 
the danger that was threatening the Repub- 
lic. During the days that followed upon the 
Revolution of 1848, he had, by means of 
L' Eeenement, kept up an attack upon Gen- 
eral Cavaignac, whose dictatorship he dis- 
trusted, and he had supported Prince Louis 
Napoleon Bonaparte, even so far as to give 
him his vote. It was a heavy penalty that 
he had to pay for this error, but it was 
shared by many others besides himself. 

At first the conduct of the prince gave no 
cause for uneasiness ; he was universally re- 
garded as the offspring of the Revolution, 
and no one thought of him as a Napoleon; 
in the common reckoning he was a demo- 
crat. During his imprisonment and exile 
he had published " L'Extinction du Paupe- 
risme," " L'Analyse de la Question des Sn- 
ores," and "Les Idees Napoleoniennes," all 
of them books that seemed inspired by a 
yearning for progress, by democratic senti- 
ments, and by social sympathies. 

Calling himself a humanitarian, he avowed 
himself a citizen rather than a Bonaparte, 
In ' ' Les Reveries Politiques, " he professed 
himself a sincere republican. After the Revo- 
lution of February he succeeded in securing 
his election to the Constitutional Assembly; 




AJSI EPISODE OP THE COUP d'eTAT (LES CHATIMENTS). 



166 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



and, having hailed the Republic, he declared 
from the tribune that his life should be de- 
voted to consolidation, and that he had no 
thought other than for liberty. 

Louis Blanc, as well as Degeorges, Peau- 
cher, and other pronounced republicans, who 
had visited him in his confinement at Ham, 
had been quite charmed by his doctrines; he 
was then studying the extinction of pauper- 
ism. Though no one regarded him as gifted 
with a strong intellect, he was credited with 
a genuine honesty of purpose that had been 
established by his misfortunes and enlarged 
by the failure of his plans. He was con- 
sidered as a victim of Louis Philippe's, and 
the articles that he published in the Eevue da 
Pas de Calais were applauded by the repub- 
lican press. The poorer classes were utterly 
misled by his promises, his name of Napo- 
leon having the effect of shedding a certain 
halo of glory around his person. He bad 
been cordially received in 1848 by the repre- 
sentatives of the people, who never thought 
of regarding him as dangerous. Those who 
mistrusted his convictions called him an 
idiot. 

On his return from exile he went to see 
Victor Hugo, and said to him : 

' ' What would it be tor 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." 

And what he said was heard by Saint- 
Priest, the Academician, who, while he lis- 
tened, believed in the speaker's sincerity. 
Those who abide in integrity are slow in 
suspecting treachery. 

When Louis Napoleon was elected Presi- 
dent of the Republic, he laid his hand upon 
his heart and swore fidelity to the Constitu- 



tion. Again and again he subsequently de- 
clared that he was bound by his oath. 

It was not long, however, before intrigues 
began to be discovered, and men of far-see- 
ing power began to be anxious. 

Proudhon wrote that the people had taken 
a fancy to a prince; and " 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." 

Victor Hugo's eyes were then opened, and 
he saw how miserably be bad been duped. 
When the promoters of the Empire were 
scheming to mutilate the law of universal 
suffrage, he mounted the tribune and made 
a speech in its defence, the peroration of 
which, in the way of oratory, has rarely been 
surpassed. To the people he said, "When 
once you shall have the right of voting, you 
will be the sovereign power, and you will no 
longer make or foster disturbance." As 
often as any effort was made to stifle liberty 
he rose as a champion, and, grave and pale 
amid the ever-increasing tumult, and dis- 
daining the abuse and contempt with which 
he was assailed, he vindicated the freedom 
of the press, and eulogized the benefits of 
the Revolution. 

The coup d'etat, therefore, did not take 
him by surprise. Already he had foreseen 
it; and when the hour of the struggle came, 
he did bis dutj^ and did it well. He exerted 
himself to organize some resistance. -When 
the bullets of the hired soldiers were killing 
women and children in the streets, and po- 
lice-agents were breaking open with crow- 
bars the desks of those who were loyal to 
the Republic, he held firmly to his principles. 

This fatal struggle has been recorded by 
the poet in his marvellous trilogy, ' ' Napole- 
on le Petit," "Les Cbatiments,"and "LTIis- 
toire d'un Crime, " which were the first works 
of his exile, when " indignation added a bra- 
zen string to his lyre." 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



167 



CHAPTER XXII. 

Acts Lending to BauishmcMt. — A Price Set upon tlie Poet's Head Drive Through Paris.— A Woman's 

Devotion — Sons and Friends in Prison — Arrival in Brussels.— "L'Histoire d'un Crime."— "Les Homme.') 
de I'Exil."— Proposition to the Literary Society of Prance.— La Grande Place in Brussels.-" NapoWon le 
Petit."— Alarm of the Belgian Government. —The Exile's Expulsion. 



And now the penalty of exile awaited the 
patriot. Victor Hugo had asked the Assem- 
bly whether, having had a Napoleon the 
Great, they were now to have a Napoleon 
the Little; he had inquired of the Royalists 
how it was that they entered into such 
strange fellowship with the Empire, pointing 
out significantly how the Imperialists, who 
had murdered the Due d'Enghien, and the 
Legitimists, who had shot Murat, were now 
grasping each other's blood-stained hands. 
From the tribune he had proclaimed that the 
Repubhc is invincible, and that in France it 
would prove itself indestructible as being 
identical on the one hand with the age, on 
the other with the people. In lofty lan- 
guage, alike prophetic of the future and 
condemnatory of the present, he had poured 
out his indignation in the ears of the nation. 
The result of all this was that Bonaparte 
wrote his name at the head of the list of the 
proscribed. 

All the details of his struggle have been 
related by himself in his well-known work, 
"L'Histoire d'un Crime, "so that it is unnec- 
essary to dwell upon them here. 

Though a representative of the people, he 
was turned out of the Palais Bourbon with 
the other members of the Left; he took an 
active part in the efforts made by the Com- 
mittee of Resistance; he drew up the pla- 
cards that announced the deposition of the 
perjured prince; but at last, when the people 
were terrified and Paris had become the 
prey of the myrmidons in power, Victor 
Hugo had no alternative but to fly. 

A price was set upon his head; a reward 
of 35,000 francs was offered to any one who 
would either kill him or arrest him ; but as 
he knew that the sacrifice of his life could 
be of no benefit to any one, he did his best 
to escape the assassin's hand, and, leaving his 
home and his family, he started off through 
Paris in a,Jiacre. 

Madame Drouet, a brave and noble wom- 



an, did her utmost to secure the poet a safe 
asylum. She applied at many doors; and, 
undiscouraged by the denials she received, 
she persevered in her attendance, and devised 
many schemes for his escape with undaunted 
determination. 

The drive was sufficiently terrible. It was 
past ruined barricades and pointed cannon; 
it was amid drunken patrols thirsting for 
blood, and police agents in pursuit of honest 
men. From time to time they were brought 
to a standstill; Victor Hugo had to crouch 
in a corner of the carriage, while Madame 
Drouet would mount the stairs to the apart- 
ments of her friends, and appeal to them to 
return her past favors by sheltering the poet. 
But every appeal was in vain; every door 
was closed, friendship was terror-stricken, 
and gratitude a thing of the past. 

At last, after weary hours spent in anxiety 
and fatigue, the fugitives, almost sinking in 
despair, found a retreat under the roof of a 
relation of Victor Hugo's, who was the man- 
ager of a Legitimist journal. 'With gener- 
ous sympathy, he took the risk of receiving 
the proscribed man into his house, and, after 
keeping him concealed for five days, pro- 
cured a passport, by means of which the 
outlaw, having adopted a complete disguise, 
was enabled to depart on the 13th of Decemr 
ber from the Northern Railway station. 

He arrived in Brussels the following morn- 
ing at daybreak, and immediately wrote to 
inform his family and benefactors of his 
safety. 

His sons had been unable to come to his 
assistance; they were co-editors of L'^vene- 
ment, and the whole of the staff, six in num- 
ber, had been thrown into prison. Charles 
Hugo had already been confined four months 
in the Conciergerie because he had written an 
article on capital punishment, in referen 
to the terrible execution of Montcharmol 
his brother Francois (who had dropped the 
name of Victor in order that his writings 



168 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



might not bear the same signature as his 
father's) was undergoing a similar penalty on 
account of his having taken part with the 
outlaws; Paul Meurice, who, besides being 
one of the joint editors, was the manager of 
the paper, was their fellow-prisoner for nine 
months; and Auguste Vacquerie exposed 
himself to a similar punishment, for when 
the paper was suspended for a month he en- 
deavored to start it afresh under a new title, 
L'Avinement. . . duPeuple; and, after being 
charged under five indictments, one of which 
rendered him liable to death, he escaped with 
a sentence of six months' imprisonment. 

At this same period the walls of the Con- 
ciergerie detained Proudhon, the representa- 
tive of Le Peuple, Louis Jourdain of Le Si^ele, 
Nefltzer of La Presse, and some scores of 
other journalists. Bonaparte had found that 
the readiest way of suppressing the papers 
was to lock up the editors. 

In their prison-cells the sons and friends 
of Victor Hugo could hear the roar of can- 
non and the rattle of musketry; and from 
time to time they saw groups of wounded 
and dying brought in to swell their numbers, 
lest they should recover sufficient strength 
to rouse themselves to fresh efforts in de- 
fence of liberty. 

For a while Victor Hugo's privilege as 
deputy protected him from arrest; but when 
Bonaparte began to feel the inconvenience 
of the restriction, he did not hesitate to seize 
his victims at night-time in their beds, so 
that when Victor Hugo effected his escape 
Paul Meurice quite believed that he had 
been shot, though, out of consideration for 
the sons, he kept his presentiments to himself. 

Arrived in Brussels, Victor Hugo took up 
his quarters in the Grande Place, and soon 
sent for his wife and prepared to recom- 
mence his work. 

He felt that a new duty now devolved 
upon him. Hitherto he had sung of human- 
ity, of women and of children; he had been 
the consoler of the afflicted and of those in 
despair; now he would be an avenger. Ac- 
cordingly, he tasked himself to compile a his- 
tory; his lashes should reach to the faces of 
Napoleon and his acolytes at the Tuileries; 
he became at once the 'Tacitus and the Juve- 
nal of his time, only his accents were mightier 
than theirs because his indignation was greater 
and his wrath more just. He resolved to 
give in his own words the record of the crime 
that had been committed, and in all their ter- 
rible reality he has depicted the scenes which 



he witnessed, and told of all the atrocious 
phases of the outrage. 

Each morning brought many knocks at 
the door of the little room he occupied, as 
other outlaws, who had escaped like himself, 
came to bring him fresh information or new 
documents to aid him in the history he was 
composing. 

Cournet came to tell him how he had stran- 
gled in a fly the police spy who had arrested 
him and was carrying him off to be shot ; 
and Camille Berru, who had been one of the 
editors of L'^iienement, came to relate his 
experiences. Then there was NoSl Parfait, 
who, although he was under no compulsion 
to quit Paris, yet felt it his duty to seek pov- 
erty in exile; leaving his wife and his son 
Paul, himself a writer of talent, behind him, he 
came to Brussels, utterly without resources, 
and was only too glad to betake himself to 
Victor Hugo ; he undertook the office of 
secretary and amanuensis to his friend Du- 
mas, and, as Charles Hugo has incidentally 
mentioned in the charming pages of "Les 
Hommes de I'Exil," he found the engage- 
ment anything but light. 

Dumas had been residing in Brussels for 
some time, not on account of any political 
necessity, but because he found himself best 
able there to apply himself to his work. He 
had never cared much for politics; but when 
he found that Victor Hugo was driven into 
banishment, he made up his mind never to 
see Louis Napoleon again, although he had 
previously been on intimate terms with him. 
He kept his word, never going either to Com- 
pifegne or the Tuileries any more. 

It was during this period that he was writ- 
ing his "M6moires," and it was almost by 
the immediate dictation of Victor Hugo, 
whom he saw well-nigh every day, that he 
depicted the leading incidents of the poet's 
childhood and youth. 

Victor Schoelcher, who made his escape in 
the disguise of a priest, was another friend 
who came to console the exile. He expressed 
his contrition for having mistrusted him 
through so many years, and for having failed 
to perceive his true love for the democracy. 
The testimony of this venerable man was 
but one of many marks of esteem that Vic- 
tor Hugo received. Thus cheered and sup- 
ported by sympathy and affection, he per- 
severed in writing "L'Histoire d'un Crime," 
completing his work in the five months be- 
tween December, 1851, and May, 1852. But 
the book was never published until 1877, 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



169 



when it appeared probable that reaction 
would bring about a second coup d'etat. 

After this production was finished, and Vic- 
tor Hugo commenced "Napoleon le Petit," 
his visitors became more numerous than ever. 
His door seemed never closed; and all who 
knocked obtained admittance. Intent upon 
his writing, the author would hardly look up 
to see who had arrived, and would motion 
his guest to take a seat, not entering into 
conversation until he had finished the chap- 
ter on which he was engaged. 

Among the most frequent of his visitors 
was General Lamoricifere, who, arm in arm 
with Charras, Bedeau, or Hetzel, refugees 
like himself, might constantly be seen per- 
ambulating the streets and inveighing ve- 
hemently against the state of things in Paris. 
Morning after morning he would make his 
appearance in Victor Hugo's study, light his 
pipe, and fling himself on a sofa, twirling 
his mustache until the writer should pleaSe 
good-naturedly to read him a few pages of 
"Napoleon le Petit." This would generally 
act as a sort of narcotic upon him, and he 
would be calmer for a few hours, like a man 
who has applied a sedative to an aching tooth. 
The hero of many battle-fields has been de- 
scribed by Charles Hugo as having been cap- 
tivated by the monarchy and tempted by the 
republic. He subsequently placed his sword 
at the disposal of the Pope, in whom, how- 
ever, he had not much faith; and in 1852, 
under the influence of his illustrious fellow- 
exiles, he avowed himself a stanch supporter 
of the republican cause. 

!&mile de Girardin was another who had 
taken refuge in Brussels, at the H6tel de Belle 
Vue. Thus temporarily removed from the 
agitating world of politics in which alone he 
seemed able to exist, he occupied himself in 
studying a number of questions in which he 
took no little interest ; he investigated the 
relations between children and the State, and 
wrote one of his most interesting works upon 
the subject of women and marriage. But 
he could not remain long away from Paris, 
which he loved so well; when guns were si- 
lent, pens were weapons, and he was unable 
to resist the desire of taking up afresh the 
paper warfare. He returned to France just 
at the time when some obscure author, a 
toady of the coup d'etat, was proposing to 
the Literary Society of Paris that it should 
erase from its roll the name of the writer of 
"Notre Dame" and " Les Peuilles d'Au- 
tomne," as well as that of Villemain, one of 



the founders of the society; and he had the 
mortiflcation of seeing that the proposal was 
received with approbation, so abject was the 
fear that filled the general mind. 

Brussels did not offer quarters that could 
altogether be considered hospitable, and out 
of the seven thousand proscribed Frenchmen 
who found refuge in Belgium, only two hun- 
dred and forty-seven stayed there for any 
length of time. In this number were in- 
cluded generals, officers of lower rank, free- 
holders, magistrates, notaries, barristers, mer- 
chants, bankers, artists, and mechanics, the 
names of them all being specified in Charles 
Hugo's touching account. The myrmidons 
of the coup d'etat might call them " drinkers 
of blood," but they were in truth a pleiad of 
upright men, the elite of the brave and illus- 
trious. Among them, either in the capital 
or other towns of Belgium, were David the 
sculptor, Ledru - Rollin, Michel de Bourges, 
Bancel, Louis Blanc, Eugfine Sue, Charras, 
Barbfis, and Pauline Rolland. All the talent 
and genius, the virtue and honor, the integrity 
and intellect, the vital energy, and whatever 
constituted the glory of the nation, seemed 
to be expelled from France by the Empire, 
and driven among foreigners to eat the bitter 
bread of poverty and exile. 

Victor Hugo,the most illustrious of all, was 
also the most courageous ; he encountered 
adversity with a placid brow ; and, with a 
mingling of scorn and good-nature, with in- 
dignation that did not disturb his gentleness, 
he fought with indomitable perseverance for 
vengeance and for life. 

As soon as his sons were set at liberty, they 
hastened to his side; and in January, 1853, 
they found him in the third place of resi- 
dence he had had in Brussels, at No. 27 in 
the Grande Place. There, beneath a tobac- 
conist's signboard, just opposite the glory of 
Belgium, the magnificent H6tel de Ville, the 
poet occupied a fairly spacious apartment on 
the first floor of a house that he has rendered 
historical. The principal furniture of the 
room was a sofa that served for a bed, a table 
that had to be used both for writing and for 
meals, and an old mirror over the mantel- 
piece. 

The view of the H6tel de Ville from his 
window was a perpetual satisfaction to him, 
as he had ever been an enthusiastic admirer 
of stately architecture; and he made up his 
mind to continue in his modest quarters so 
long as Napoleon III. should be at the Tui- 
leries. Fate, however, ruled otherwise. 



170 



VIOTOR BU&O AND HI3 TIME. 



On hia first coming to Brussels he was, as 
a Knight of the Order of Leopold, entitled 
to the respect of the Belgians, and was very 
cordially received by the government. The 
people liked him; the burgomaster paid him 
almost daily visits ; his partners in exile had 
constant recourse to his ready aid, and he 
was the means of saving more than one of 
them from starvation. 

But under an over -strong government a 
people has not the free disposal of its sym- 
pathies. The triumph of the Empire over- 
awed the statesmen of Belgium. 

From an inkstand long preserved as a relic 
by the prince the poet wrote a work which 
made the heart of Bonaparte tremble. ' ' Na- 
poleon le Petit " had so wide a circulation, 
and produced so great an impression, that 
the Belgian government took alarm. Afraid 
of Napoleon III., it came to the resolution 
that Victor Hugo must be expelled. In or- 
der to justify this violation of the right of 
asylum in a free countrj', the Chamber had 



to pass a new law, which still bears the name 
of Faider, its author, a shrewd magistrate 
who had obtained rapid promotion in Paris 
in 1852. Fortified by this act, the authori- 
ties informed Victor Hugo that he must seek 
a refuge elsewhere. Immediately he went 
to Antwerp, whence he embarked for Eng- 
land, having been accompanied to the port 
by a number of his proscribed countrymen, 
and by not a few Belgians who were not re- 
sponsible for the decision of their rulers. 

At partir!g,Victor Hugo spoke a few words 
to his friends, several of whom were destined 
to die in exile. Addressing Madier-Montjau, 
Charras,Deschanel,Dussoubs,Perdiguier,and 
the Belgians, he said that although he had 
been attainted with treason, hunted away first 
fromParis.and now from Brussels, he should 
ever remember with gratitude the land that 
had received him. 

Cheers and sobs followed him to the vessel 
on which he embarked for a land where the 
law would be respected. 




YIOTOB HUGO AJSID HIS TIME. 



171 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

Jersey.— Reception of the Exiles. -Victor lingo's Reaomces.— Sale of Furuitni-e,— Apartmeats m the Rue 

de La Tonr ct'Anvei-f;ne.— Viiciinerie's Slcetches Foninilities of Society.— The Privileges (jf a French 

Peer.— Au Impoiial Siiy. 



Victor Hugo merely passed through Eng- 
land, and on the 5th of August, 1853, landed 
in Jersey, where he was received by a party 
of French outlaws, who were awaiting him 
upon the pier at St. Helier. lu a few feeling 
words he thanked theiii for their kind wel- 
come, and exhorted them to maintain entire 
concord among themselves, insisting that 
there ought to be unity between those who 
shared the same sorrows and the same liopes. 



tie colony was not destined to remain long 
undisturbed; but at the time of the poet's 
arrival there was no immediate ground for 
suspicion of danger, either to its moral or 
material liberty. 

Victor Hugo took a small detached house 
on the sea-shore, on a part known as Marine 
Terrace. It was only one story high, and 
had a balcony, a terrace, and a garden. The 
rent of this modest residence was 1500 francs 




A JEHfiBY IjANDSOAPB. 



The number of exiles that had betaken 
themselves to Jersey after the coup d'etat 
was not very large; but the island, with its 
independent constitution and local govern- 
ment, seemed a spot well adapted to protect 
the rights of banished men whose object it 



a j'ear. The poet's resources did not allow 
him to occupy a more commodious dwelling, 
his entire income now amounting to only 
7000 francs, out of which he had nine persons 
to keep. 
No more money was to be expected from 



was to live by their own industry. The lit- 1 France. ' ' Hernani, " " Ruy Bias, " and ' ' Ma- 



173 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



riou Delorme " had been strict!}' forbidden 
by the future author of ' ' The Life of Cassar, " 
who at one time thought of being a candidate 
for the Academic. Neither were there any 
more author's profits to be received. His very 
poems, though not actually prohibited, were 
cried down and insulted; any one who had 
a copy of "Lcs Contemplations" or "Les 
Peuilles d'Automne" in his house ran the 
risk of coming under the suspicion of the 
ruling powers. The partisans of the Em- 
pire had burned or hidden ' ' Notre Dame de 



handcuffed. So successful was this policy 
that for the time it was an utter impossibil- 
ity for the exile on a foreign shore to de- 
rive any emolument from his literary labors. 
" L'Histoire d'un Crime," as we have al- 
ready stated, had not yet been published; 
"Napoleon le Petit" had been secretly 
printed in Brussels, and a considerable num- 
ber of copies had been sold clandestinely, 
but all the profits went to the booksellers. 
Honorable as the Belgians as a nation are, 
it is known only too well that some of 




THE EXIIjE. 



Paris " and "Les Odes et Ballades," and the 
superintendents of police were waging war 
against the books as being dangerous. It 
was almost as much as a man's place was 
worth to mention the name of Victor Hugo 
at all, while to eulogize it was to incur the 
hazard of being marched off straight to 
prison. Silence on such subjects was the 
order of the day, as enjoined by the ministry 
of the Empire ; and Napoleon found his 
consolation in beholding genius bound and 



these booksellers were not over - conscien- 
tious, and took care to look after themselves 
in the matter of this book, and subsequently 
of "Les Chatiments," without providing that 
any of the bank-notes should find their way 
to the purse of the exiled author. 

But Victor Hugo accepted poverty as 
complacently as he had ever accepted 
wealth. 

He had a mission to fulfil and work to 
accomplish, and consequently there was no 



VICTOR IIUOO AND HIS TIME. 



17S 



hardship which he was not prepared to en- 
dure with fortitude and clieerfulness. 

Meanwhile he had a certain position to 
maintain, and the sum realized by the sale of 
his effects in Paris was an acceptable addi- 
tion to his resources. 

He had left the Place Royale in 1848, and 
after a short stay at No. 5 Rue de I'lsly, ad- 
joining the St, Lazare Railway station, he 
had taken up his residence at No. 37 Rue de 
La Tour d'Auvergne, in apartments from 
which there was an extensive view of the 
city. This was his abode at the time when 
the coitp d'etat took place, and here it was 
that he had brought his collection of artistic 
treasures that had now to be submitted to 
auction. 

Theophile Gautier was at the pains to an- 



coup d'etat money was scarce in every quar- 
ter. A few of Victor Hugo's friends — among 
whom, as usual, was Paul Meurice — came to 
rescue what they could from the hands of 
the brokers, but the bidding was slow, so that 
the resources of the exile were not benefited 
as they ought to have been by the sacrifice 
of his goods. 

Thus it came about that Victor Hugo took 
up his residence at Marine Terrace in Jersey, 
with means scarcely adequate to maintain 
his family in comfort. But his spirit was by 
no means broken, and his wife did not lack 
the courage to brave adversity. Bruised he 
was, but not shattered; and he nerved him- 
self to reconstruct the edifice of his life which 
had been struck down by this sudden and un 
expected blow. Undaunted by disaster, he 




V^CTOR HUGO S BEDBOOM AT MABIKE TEHBACE. 
(From a Sketch btj Charles Hvfio.) 



nounce the sale in a short article in La Presse. 
indulging the hope that a subscription might 
be raised to secure the property for its own- 
er. But his appeal, bold as it was, found no 
response; for who could be expected in 1853 
to allow his name openly to be associated 
with such a project ? 

The apartments in the Rue de La Tour 
d'Auvergne had been furnished according to 
the poet's own taste, and were crammed with 
artistic curiosities. Besides the numerous 
trinkets that he had picked up in the old 
parts of Paris, there were shelves full of old 
china, ornaments of carved ivor}^, and some 
choice specimens of Venetian glass. These 
articles, although of great value to their 
owner, sold for next to nothing. After the 



braced himself up to the work which was not 
yet finished. 

Not only did his brethren in exile give 
him an enthusiastic welcome to Jersey, but 
the residents themselves were desirous of 
showing him all respect ; and in one of 
their newspapers they announced his arrival 
in the island, speaking of him in their own 
curious dialect a.s " un de nos muses les plus 
distingues." 

Gratified at his reception, he proceeded to 
furnish his house with the simplicity that his 
narrow means necessitated. It contained a 
considerable number of rooms, which have, 
for the most part, been reproduced by Au- 
guste Vacquerie, who voluntarily shared the 
banishment of one whom he considered his 



174 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIMS. 



master, and by ■whom he was treated as a 
son. Auguste emisloyed his leisure in pho- 
tographing the places and the people about 
him, and sent a book, which he called " Pro- 
fits et Grimaces," to Madame Paul Maurice, 
which we have had the pleasure of inspect- 
ing. A few examples of these, and a speci- 
men of Charles Hugo's drawing, are intro- 
duced into the adjacent pages. 

The bedroom of the poet contained little 
besides the bedstead and a table, but it over- 
looked the sea, and the sea was ever a source 
of delight and inspiration to him. 

The habits of the little household were 
regular and industrious. Victor Hugo's usu- 




THE C4REENnQUSE AT M.ARINE TEKn.VCE. 

al custom was to rise at daylireak, and work 
steadily on until midday. After luncheon 
most of the party took a walk, Madame Vic- 
tor Hugo retiring to rest in a sheltered con- 
servatory that was almost the sole ornament 
of the place. On returning from their walk, 
during which they would frequently bathe, 
the gentlemen amused themselves with fenc- 
ing or billiards, and then went back to their 
own rooms to resume their work. Except 
that they were expatriated, they were not lacls- 
ing in all the resources for a happy existence. 



It was not the custom of the people of 
Jersey to quit their houses on Sundays; and 
the exiles, in order to find recreation after 
the brain-work of the week, used to play bil- 
liards, taking care, however, always to draw 
down their blinds, and to strike the balls as 
noiselessly as they could, so as to avoid 
shocking the susceptibilities of the residents. 
The grand secret, however, as Victor Hugo 
has himself recorded in his jocose way, of 
his being treated with so much respect by 
the islanders was not in the least because he 
was Victor Hugo the poet, but because he 
was a peer of Prance. By virtue of this 
rank, as (Justave Rivet says in his "Victor 
Hugo chez lui," he enjoyed certain privi- 
leges, one of which was that he was ex- 
empt from the obligation of sweeping his 
doorstep and cleaning away the grass from 
the front of his house. On the other 
hand, he was bound to supply the suze- 
rain of the duchy of Normandy with two 
fowls every year, the price of which trib- 
ute the tax-gatherer never failed to de- 
mand. The residents always addressed 
the " mriae dlstinffiie" as "My Lord,"and 
even the governor of the island regarded 
him as being of a rank supijrior to him- 
self. 

Into company the Plugo family entered 
very little ; not only had they very hmited 
time at their disposal for visiting, but they 
did not quite understand the stiffness of 
English society. When occasionally they 
went through the ordeal of a formal call, 
Madame Victor Hugo used to say to her 
son Charles, who was somewhat particular 
in his dress, "You go first; you are the 
dandy of the partj^" and Charles would 
gravely take the precedence, followed by 
his parents and his brother. 

But although Victor Hugo did not asso- 
ciate much with the residents, he found 
more than enough society for his scanty 
leisure in the visits of the various refu- 
gees, Schoeleher, Pierre Leroux, General Mes- 
zaros. General Percsel, General Lefld, Sandor 
Teleki, Mezaise, Theophile Guerin, Barbier, 
Bonnet-Duverdier, Kesler, fimile Allix, and 
Xavier Derrieu. His own immediate circle 
included Vacquerie, Paul Meurice, Ribey- 
roUes, and others who were bound to him 
by every tie of affection. 

He never complained. Disdainful of all 
calumny and insult, he resigned himself to 
his fate. Work was the law of his life ; he 
watched the sun and the sea, and, "while he 



riCTOli HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



175 



contemplated the unceasing surging of tlie 
waves, he meditated on tlie perpetual strug- 
gles of imposture with the truth," 

As a place of residence, Jersey was in it- 
self delightful ; it has been called an idyl of 
the sea. JIariue Terrace was close to the 
shore, and at the extreme end of the town. 
Although now included in a suburb, in 1852 
the house stood ciuite alone. Its little gar- 
den sloped down to the beach, whence Vic- 



ing of the land which he knew not whether 
he should see again. 

" E.xile, see those roses 

Wet with inoriiiiig dew ! 
Eiich petal to tliy view, 
A pearly tear discloses. 

"Roses homeward ever 

l>i(l my mcnioiy glance ; 
But May without my France 
Can May be reckon'd never 1'^ 




VICTOR HUGO AMOSO TUE .lEKSEY ROCKS. 



tor Hugo often turned his eyes to France. 
Whatever charms the laud of exile may 
boast, they never can compensate for the loss 
of one's native shores. Non uhi bene, non ibi 
patria. There is ever the unseen bond that 
attaches us to the country where we were 
born. 

Notwithstanding the beauty of the scenery, 
the salubrity of the climate, and the luxuri- 
ance of the flowers, the poet was ever dream- 



Sometimes in the evening, as he was con- 
versing with his friends upon by-gone times, 
bis eyes would fill with tears, and he would 
seem tempted to yield to despair. Nor 
was it alwaj'S friends that were about him; 
traitors did not fail to make their way into 
the society of the proscribed. The French 
government had their spies in the island, and 
the apprehension that they were revealing 
their secrets to their enemies was not the 



176 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



least of the trials that the exiles had to en- 
dure. They were aware that they were 
under a secret surveillance, and that they 
were in perpetual danger of being entangled 
in a snare. Whatever letters they either 
wrote or received were all opened on the 
frontier. 

They lived, indeed, upon a free soil, but 
that soil was under the rule of England, and 
England acknowledged the Emperor of the 
French as an ally. Protected though they 
were by the institutions of Jersey, the refugees 
were only too well aware that treachery was 
lurking among some of the Frenchmen who 
were only pretending to be outlaws like 
themselves. The duplicity of one imperial 
spy, named Damascene Hubert, was found 
out through the jealousj' of a woman, and it 



was ascertained that he was in the habit of 
sending information to the police in Paris. 
Those whom he had been betraying formed 
a resolution to have his life; but when their 
design was communicated to Victor Hugo, 
he rose in the middle of the night and suc- 
ceeded in diverting them from their pur- 
pose, and in inducing them to have the spy 
committed to prison. It transpired that he 
was in debt to many of his countrymen, and 
this formed a pretext for placing him in 
confinement. 

After he was liberated he managed to sub- 
sist for a time by the contributions of some 
friends; but when these failed he left Jer- 
sey. 

It was not to be long before the poet also 
took his departure. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



177 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

"Les Chatiments."— Editions of 1S53.— Their Introduction into France.— Attitude of the Exiles in Jersey. 
— Victor Hngo'B Funeral Orations.— Action of the English Government — Sir Robert Peel.— Kibeyrolles' 
Reply. — Ii'ifomme.— F61ix Pyat's Letter. — Meeting at St. Holier. — Threats.— Denunciation of the Exiles. 
— Victor Hugo's Protest. — The London Press.- The Second Expulsion, 



"Lbs OhItiments" was published dur- 
ing the period of the author's residence in 
Jersey. 

Never had poet been more inspired with 
patriotic indignation. In verse that burned, 
he chastised the tyrants who, for twenty 
years, confiscated France to their own selfish- 
ness. In odes, in ballads, in epics, in satires, 
he smites the authors and the accomplices of 
the coup d'etat, the cowards that bend their 
knees to the dominant power, the priests that 
chant their Te Deums in honor of a Caesar 
whom they despise. 

Sometimes he is full of pity for the vic- 
tims 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 soxinds forth their vir- 
tues in brilliant strophes ; and sometimes he 
rises into grandeur as he scourges the great 
men of the Second Empire, while 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. 

He describes the Cemetery of Montmartre; 
and, addressing the martyrs who had per- 
ished by foul play, he inquires what was the 
tenor of their dying thoughts, and proceeds 
to cry: 

*' Ye dead, ye dead whom nought from cruel death 

could save, 
What now detains you half outside the silentgravef 
Here, when the dark sepulchral cypress mournful 

sighs. 
Why start ye forth on heaven to fix your eager eyes? 
'Twould almost seem ye hear the judgment clarion 

ring. 
That doth Napoleon to the dread tribunal bring ; 
And while before the bar the perjur'd despot stands, 
Ye rise to witness to the blood that stains his hands." 

The collection is divided into seven books, 

the separate titles of which, with cutting 

irony, represent the various phases of the 

wup d'etat. They are: "Society is Saved," 

12 



"Order is Re-established," "The Dynasty 
is Restored," "Religion is Glorified," "Au- 
thority is Consecrated," " Stability is As- 
sured," "The Deliverers will Deliver Them- 
selves." The poet has no mercy for the 
guilty, and heaps upon them his heaviest 
malediction, and then proceeds, in a vision 
of the constant advance of humanity, to pour 
forth his aspirations for a happier future. 
Full of indignation, he pleads the cause of a 
great people which, though blinded for a 
time, would ultimately reassert its power. 
And it has been remarked that while such a 
voice was making itself heard, nothing could 
be considered as irrevocably lost; it reani- 
mated the people's courage, and kept their 
consciences alive. 

The first edition, which was published in 
Brussels in 1853, by Henri Samuel, appeared 
in a mutilated form, the Belgian government 
having refused to allow the circulation of a 
certain number of the pieces. The author 
protested agaiifst what he held to be an in- 
fringement of liberty, and declared that it 
would be an astonishment to the future that 
any country that was the asylum of the pro- 
scribed could proceed to such an arbitrary 
measure. 

Quite inexplicable is the awe with which 
the emperor managed to inspire his neigh- 
bors. It resulted inevitably that in their de- 
sire to please him they violated their own 
constitutions. 

The second edition, revised and corrected 
by Victor Hugo himself, was published at 
St. H§lier in the same year, and contains the 
portions that were excluded from the Brus- 
sels edition. It was sold both in Geneva 
and in New York, and received a highly 
favorable notice in the Illustrated Londmi 
News. In spite of all exertions on the part 
of the police, it achieved an almost universal 
circulation ; indeed, the more it was hunted 
down, the more thoroughly it penetrated 
France. It had as many disguises as an out- 
law. Sometimes it was enclosed in a sar- 



178 



VICTOR HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



dine-box, or rolled up in a hank of wool; 
sometimes it crossed the frontier entire, 
sometimes in fragments; concealed occa- 
sionally in plaster busts or clocks, laid in the 
folds of ladies' dresses, or even sewed in be- 
tween the double soles of men's boots. 

But, however keen was the search, and 
even though the fishermen's heaps of maick 
were overhauled, innumerable copies found 
their way into Paris, to the no slight dis- 
comfiture of Napoleon the Little. Into 
workshops, into cafes, into the Quartier 
Latin, and into the Faubourg St. Antoine, 
behind shop-counters, and into salons, "Les 
Ch3;timents " made its way, and only rarely 
did a copy find itself in the hands of the 
police. 

Perfect in its expression, this chef-d'aume 
has justice and progress for its theme, and 
by its combination of beauty and truth 
reaches the very ideal of art. To such as 
objected that history would very likely not 
bear out his judgment of the Second Em- 
pire, Victor Hugo replied that the wrath of 
a prophet who does not roar against lions, 
but who inveighs against tyrants, can never 
miscarry. It is panegyric that misses its 
mark. Horace and Virgil were deceived 
about Augustus, and Pliny was deceived 
about Trajan; but Isaiah and Ezekiel made 
no mistake about the monarchs of Egypt, 
nor Dante about the popes, nor Tacitus 
about Tiberius, nor Juvenal about Nero. 

Neither was Victor Hugo Received in his 
judgment of Napoleon. The gentle poet of 
childhood and womanhood, the lover who 
had drawn his inspirations from nature in 
her sweetest moods, was now transformed 
into a merciless avenger, and his new temper 
found an echo in every heart that owned any 
sense of justice or of pride. 

Although a great many copies of "Les 
ChStiments " were sold in Jersey as well as 
in Brussels, the author derived no more profit 
than he did from the worljs he had written 
in Belgium. The printing had cost him 
3500 francs, and he did not even pay his ex- 
penses; moreover, he lost a lawsuit in which 
he engaged at the instigation of Victor 
Schoelcher, who was incensed at the infringe- 
ment of copyright. 

But, if the book brought pecuniary profit 
to the booksellers only, it accomplished a 
higher purpose in kindling men's consciences 
to energy and right. 

Nothing could be a surer proof of the ter- 
ror that the work inspired than the precau- 



tions which were taken to suppress it; and 
Napoleon felt so uneasy at the proximity of 
Victor Hugo that he endeavored to have him 
hunted out of Jersey, and before long suc- 
ceeded in attaining his end. 

From their island refuge the exiles con- 
tinued to issue their protests, and on all re- 
publican anniversaries they made speeches, 
which were regularly reported in the foreign 
journals. Until 1855 their proceedings at- 
tracted no particular notice in England, and 
they lived peaceably in the enjoyment of 
their privileges. 

Whenever a French exUe died, his coun- 
trymen would assemble at the Cemetery of 
St. Jean, and Victor Hugo most frequently 
would be the orator to commemorate the vir- 
tues of the departed. Thus he delivered the 
funeral harangue over Jean Bousquet, an ac- 
tive soldier of the democracy, who died at 
the age of thirty-four, broken-hearted at his 
estrangement from his country. In the 
course of his speech he declared that when- 
ever the expatriated republicans should re- 
turn to France they would ask no vengeance, 
and that no drop of blood should be shed in 
retaliation of their wrongs. For himself, he 
required no recompense but the deliverance 
of the oppressed and the enfranchisement of 
humanity. 

Three months later, in the same cemetery, 
he made an oration at the obsequies of Louise 
Julien, a brave woman of the people, who 
was hunted, imprisoned, and as good as slain 
by Napoleon, for no other reason than her 
fidelity to her principles. From her tomb, 
he said, rose the heart-rending cry of human- 
ity that made the crowned criminal turn 
pale upon his throne; and while he lauded 
the self-sacrifice of those who associated 
themselves with the people's sufferings, he 
demanded the benefits of a free education 
for the masses, schools and workshops, and 
all the apparatus of civilization. 

Again, when Felix Bony, another victim 
to banishment, died (in 1854), Victor Hugo 
stood beside the grave, and maintained that 
the funeral processions of the exiles were a 
credential of the advance of liberty; and he 
took occasion to refer to the condition to 
which Europe had been brought by the war 
in the East, describing the tortures endured 
by soldiers simply through lack of foresight 
and care. 

Noble and brave as these protests were, 
they had no effect in rousing the feelings of 
the British government — generally so active 




LES CHATIMENTS. 



180 



VICT OB EUaO AND HIS TIME. 



in defence of freedom. But, before long, an 
incident that could hardly be foreseen result- 
ed in the withdrawal of the exiles' right of 
asylum in Jersey. 

After the colony of refugees had been resi- 
dent in the island for nearly three years and 
a half, Felix Pyat, having chosen London for 
his retreat, wrote a paper upon the subject 
of Queen Victoria's visit to France, which 
he read at a public meeting without incur- 
ring any objection or remonstrance. But 
the paper used strong language about the 
Emperor; and the English government, hav- 
ing concluded that Napoleon would be a use- 
ful ally, determined to allow no insult to be 
offered to his name. 

Already, in 1854, Sir Robert Peel, forget- 
ful of the indignation that had been ex- 
pressed in England at the coup d'etat, had 
said, in reference to the oration delivered at 
Bony's funeral: 

"One individual there is who has a kind 
of personal quarrel against the distinguished 
personage that the French nation has chosen 
as its sovereign. That individual has told 
the people of Jersey that our alliance with 
the Emperor of the French is a degradation 
to our country. In what way is this a mat- 
ter of concern to M. Victor Hugo? If our 
people are to hear this kind of nonsense from 
those who betake themselves for refuge to 
our borders, I shall deem it my duty to ask 
the Home Secretary to put an end to it as 
soon as possible." 

It was an open threat, and it called forth a 
sharp response. The French newspaper in 
Jersey was L'RommiB. It was under the 
charge of various exiled journalists— Jules 
Cahaigne, Philippe Favre, Esquiros, lEtienne 
Arago, and others— the ostensible editor being 
RibeyroUes, a man of vigorous intellect, who 
took a leading part in the political contro- 
versies of the time.* In answer to Sir Rob- 
ert, he inserted an article in his paper asking 
whether England intended to allow herself 
to be led astray by fear, to associate herself 
with crime, and to hunt down the oppressed. 
If it were so, and they were driven from their 
retreat, the cry that would go up from the ship 
that bore them to their second exile would be 
the cry that ' ' England is England no longer." 

Victor Hugo likewise made his sentiments 
known: 

"I warn M. Bonaparte that I am aware 



* M. Eibeyrolles died some years afterwards iu ex- 
ile in Brazil. 



of the secret springs he has set in motion,, 
and I am aware of what has been said about 
me in the British Parliament. M. Bona- 
parte 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 
'Kapoleon the Little,' and he wiU probably 
drive me from England because of the pro- 
tests 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 3d of December. 
What is said is true: there is a persoTial 
qua/rrel between him and me; there is the 
old quarrel of the judge upon the bench and 
the prisoner at the bar." 

No immediate action was taken upon the 
publication of this protest, but the people of 
England, as well as the people of Jersey, 
were beginning to think of the advantages 
which might accrue from an alliance with 
the Emperor, and accordingly turned against 
the exiles, their irritation being inflamed by 
the reproduction in L'Hom/me of the paper 
by Felix Pyat which has been mentioned. 

The paper was in the form of a letter to 
Queen Victoria. After congratulating her 
Majesty on her safe return from the f@tes in 
honor of the Crimean war, the author made 
some cutting remarks; he reproached her for 
visiting an upstart tyrant and taking his 
hand as an ally, and by her coalition with 
him sacrificing her rank and her pride, and 
the dignity of her race and sex. In conclu- 
sion, he made a joke about her having put 
Canrobert au bain. 

This harmless little pun was like a spark 
to powder. AU Jersey was in arms. Their 
queen had been accused of impropriety; it 
had been insinuated that she had put a man 
into a bath! 

In a scare the police called an indignation 
meeting. Colored posters covered the walls, 
of which one may be given as an example : 

"Inhabitants of Jebset, 

natives or foreigners, 

all who respect tlie sex to whom you owe your being, 

and of which 

Queen Victoria 

is the brightest ornament, 

come and attend a meeting 

at the Queen's Assembly Rooms, to-morrow evening. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



181 



TUE CaiEF-COKSTADLE OF St. H^meb 

ill the chair. 

Attend and show your indignation at the infamoua 

libel published on Wednesday last, and 

now sold in your streets. 

The exiles whom you have received with hospitality 

have treated your Queen with insult. 

Men of Jeusry, 

your fathers distinguished themselves by their 

loyalty. 

Attend and show that you have not 

degenerated." 

This was by no means the most furious of 
the placards; others were intended to stir up 
the people of St. Helier to much more ve- 
hement wrath. The agitation, however, 
was successful; and on the evening of Satur- 
day, October 13, the room was crowded with 
an angry multitude that must have num- 
bered little short of two thousand. 

In a, violent speech, the chief -constable 
maintained that all the exiles ought to be 
held alike responsible for the offence ; and 
an officer, Captain Childers, amid much ap- 
plause, brought forward a motion that the 
outlaws should be forthwith informed that 
Jersey was no longer a place of safety for 
any of them. The motion was carried by 
acclamation, and the audience, in the highest 
state of excitement, shouted, "Down with 
them!" "Down with them!" "Lynch-law 
them!" "Hang them!" "Down with the 
Reds!" 

To no purpose did a few voices try to 
make themselves heard in defence; the mob 
was furious, and rushed from the room to 
the printing-ofiaces. 

Charles Hugo, in his "Les Hommes de 
I'Exil," has given a detailed account of that 
night of commotion. Had it not been for a 
heavy fall of rain and for the energy of a 
policeman, who would not allow private 
property to be attacked, there would have 
been great risk of bloodshed. The workmen 
at the printing-offices had barred themselves 
in, prepared to make a vigorous defence, and 
happily no blows were struck. 

Cheers were called for at the meeting for 
Queen Victoria, for the Emperor of the 
French, and for the Empress Eugenie; and 
groans were given for L' Homme, a resolution 
being carried that a newspaper which defied 
authority, backed up assassins, and aspersed 
the sovereign should be at once suppressed 
-as a disgrace to the island and an outrage 
upon hospitality and upon all Christian sen- 
timent. 

During these proceedings the exiles re- 
anained in their homes, somewhat uneasy. 



and Victor Hugo was warned to be on his 
guard. But he had no thought of taking any 
unusual measures for his protection; he had 
been accustomed to walk unarmed upon the 
beach by night as well as by day, and did 
not see tiiat any special precaution was need- 
ed now. His life, he said, was of little value 
to him, but he confessed he should be grieved 
if his manuscripts were destroyed. 

On hearing this, Preveraud, one of the 
exiles who had been condemned to death on 
the 2d of December, disguised himself as a 
workman, bought a truck, and conveyed 
away a strong iron-bound chest to his own 
lodgings. The chest contained the result of 
thirty years' labors — "Les Contemplations," 
" La Legende des SiScles," and the first por- 
tion of " Les Miserables." 

The precaution was not altogether unnec- 
essary, as "the Jersey vespers," as Charles 
Hugo expresses it, were being preached not 
only in the island, but in London, and it was 
well to be provided for every emergency. 

Victor Hugo's friends were more anxious 
for him than he was for himself, and The- 
ophile Guerin, Hennet de Kesler, and 
Charles RibeyroUes came to render his sons 
and Auguste Vacquerie any help they could 
in protecting his house. Asplet, a military 
man, who had incurred the reproof of the 
government, likewise came and warned Ma- 
dame Victor Hugo of the danger; but she 
refused to quit her post, which, she said, was 
at her husband's side when he was liable to 
the assaults of fanatics. 

The attention that was attracted in Eng- 
land was considerable. The Times of Octo- 
ber 17 contained the following paragraph : . 

"We have already said enough about the 
revolutionists for the public ear; but we 
recommend M. F§lix Pyat's letter to Lord 
Pahnerston's careful perusal. We have rea- 
son to believe that the prime-minister has 
already threatened these seditious persons 
with transportation." 

It did not end with threats. On the day 
after the meeting the chief -constable called 
upon the three persons who were responsible 
for L'Homme — namely, RibeyroUes, the edi- 
tor ; Pianciani, the manager ; and Thomas, the 
salesman of the paper — and informed them 
that the governor could no longer permit 
their residence on the island. Following the 
example which Louis Napoleon had set with 
the French papers, they did not suppress 
L'Homms itself, but suppressed the parties 
that published it. A week was granted 



183 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



them for their departure, but, without avail- 
ing themselves of the respite, they left the 
island within twenty-four hours. 

The exiles were far too intimately involved 
in one another'.s proceedings not to feel them- 
selves all equally aggrieved by this violation 
of English law. Tliej' resolved to issue a 



violence done to our persons merely causes 
us a smile." 

' ' But we would not be misunderstood. 
This is what we exiles from France say to 
you, the British government: 'Your ally, 
the puissant Napoleon III., stands legally 
accused of high-treason. For four years he 




MADA.MB VICTOR HUGO. 



protest, and Victor Hugo was deputed to 
draw it up. The general tenor of this docu- 
ment may be understood by a few extracts: 

"The coup d'etat," wrote the author, "has 
penetrated into English liberty. England 
has reached this point, that she now ban- 
ishes exiles. " 

"Apart from the outrage upon right, the 



has been under a warrant signed by Har- 
douin, the President of the High Court of 
Justice, by Delaparme, Pataille, Moreau, and 
Cauchy; and countersigned by Renouard, 
Attorney -general. He has broken his oath, 
he has violated the law, he has imprisoned 
the representatives of the people, he has ex- 
pelled the judges.' " 




7,/ETrTIA HEIUTM. 



184 



riGTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



"Treason, perjury, spoliation, and murder 
are crimes tliat are punishable under every 
code in the world : in England by the scaffold ; 
in France, where capital punishment is abol- 
ished, by the galleys. The Court of Assizes 
bides its time to arraign Bonaparte." 

" This has been our undeviatiug opinion; 
for a long time the bulk of the English press 
held with us; our opinion remains what it 
was." 

"Expel us if you will." 

The protest was signed by Victor Hugo 
and by thirty-six others. The signature of 
Victor 8cho3loher was sent from London, 
with the reminder that for eighteen months 
the press in England had been all but unan- 
imous in calling Louis Napoleon an assassin. 
Louis Blanc, too, signified his concurrence, 
and expressed his indignation at the action 
of the English against those whom they were 
bound to consider as their guests. 

When this document was circulated in 
London, the wrath of the citizens seemed 
only to be aggravated; they appeared to be 
almost jealous of the people of Jersey for 
having taken the initiative, and were now 
most energetic in demanding the instant 
punishment of the offenders. The Times 
announced that a French government vessel 
was waiting in the harbor of Jersey, ready, 
no doubt, to embark the refugees; other 
newspapers printed the protest without mak- 
ing any comment, the Illustrated London 
NeiBS going to the length of saying that the 
"cliciue of French ruffians" were "miscre- 
ants" and "malefactors of the most heinous 
kind, " and that ' ' the fate of Pianori, whom 
they pretend to look upon as a martyr. 



would be no inappropriate one for them- 
selves." 

The English government, to say the truth, 
seemed somewhat embarrassed, and no action 
was taken for a week; there was, in fact, 
nothing definite to be alleged against the ex- 
iles. The protest made no reference to Pyat's 
letter to the Queen, it simply remonstrated 
against their own expulsion. But there is 
circumstantial evidence that the French 
government was having its own will, as in 
the Moniieur Officiel of Fridaj', October 
36, the news of the expulsion of Victor 
Hugo was announced in Paris, while the ex- 
iles themselves received no notice of the de- 
cision until Saturday, the 27th. 

On that day the constable of St. Clement 
appeared at Victor Hugo's door with the 
order of the government that he should quit 
the island by the 2d of November. The ex- 
ile produced the protest, and, reading it over 
to the officer, insisted that not only was it true, 
but that it contained nothing that exceeded 
the bounds of local privilege. He added: 

' ' I am ready to go. But go you back and 
report yourself to your superior officer, the 
lieutenant-governor; he will make his report 
to the English government, and the English 
government in turn will report to M. Bona- 
parte. I need hardly tell you that I do not 
await the expiration of the respite that is giv- 
en me. I hasten to quit a land where honor 
has no place, and which burns my feet." 

The other exiles received similar notices, 
and prepared to leave their asylum in what 
they had hojied to find a free country. 
Many of them were entirely without re- 
sources ; but such is the law of banishment. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



IBS 



CHAPTER XXV. 

Departure from Jei-sey. — Satisfaction of the Bouapartist Journals. — "Les Conteniplalione." — Criticism;^. - 
Opinion of tlie Rfvue ties Deux Moiidea. — Reception of the Work in France.—" La Legende des Siecles.' 
— Outline of its Aim. — Correspondence with Charles Baudelaire. 



Before quitting Jersey, tlie exiles paid a 
farewell visit to the graves of their fellow- 
countrymcD who were buried in the little 
independent cemetery of St. .Jean, the resting- 
place of such as did not belong to either of 
the twenty-seven places of worship in the 
island, and then embarked, some for London, j 
some for Germany, and some for Guernsey. ! 

It was to the last of these that the steamer 
conveyed Victor Hugo and his lamily on the 
31st of October. He left Jersey with con- 
siderable regret. In spite of the difHculties i 
which had beset him, he had become much 
attached to the spot which lie afterwards de- 
scribed in " Les Travailleurs de la Mer" as 
a bouquet as large as London, and where all 
is perfume, light, and laughter. In verse, 
too, he has spoken of it as 

"Sleeping amid th' eternal thunder of the waves, 
Itself a tiny gem whose shores the ocean laves ; 
But though so tiny, still a bold and rocky iand: 
With Brittany below and Noruiandy at hand, 
To us a very France, with France's flowery smile. 
And yet for us with France's tears bedewed awhile." 

But though the exile was the victim of the 
machinations of the Empire, and some por- 
tion of the English and the Jersey press con- 
tributed to the vengeance that was exacted, 
Victor Hugo himself has been careful to 
maintain that the great English nation at 
large (which he calls "majesty in upright- 
ness ") had no share in the blame. He re- 
joiced in his asylum in the island, which 
was but a fragment of Gaul detached in the 
eighth century, and found there not a few 
warm admirers. 

Nevertheless, his expulsion gave rise to a 
certain amount of misunderstanding; there 
were those who deemed him responsible for 
the severity exhibited towards his compa- 
triots ; but these were only such as failed to 
comprehend the true greatness of the protest 
which he had published. In reality, the sym- 
pathies of the islanders are not French at all ; 
and in 1870, during the war, they congratu- 
lated themselves on being exempt from the 



obligation of furnishing military contingents 
and supplies. At the time of which we are 
writing, a number of the residents who were 
true Englishmen at heart accompanied the 
departing exiles down to the port, raised in 
their behalf the complimentary shout "Vive 
la Republique?" and expressed the hope that 
they might see them back again to reside 
among them. 

On the part of those who were driven to 
migrate there was no shadow of rancor or 
ill-feeling; they had no hatred for anything 
but wrong; they were indeed the playthings 
of fortune, and the Bonapartist journals in 
Paris exulted over their discomfiture. 

Meanwhile the poet was not confining his 
efforts to the task of political vengeance; 
during his residence in Jersey he wrote both 
"Les Contemplations" and the first part of 
" La Legende des Slides." 

"Les Contemplations" was published by 
Michel Levy and Pagnerre in Ptiris, in May, 
1856. It is in two volumes, and contains a 
history of twenty-five years of the author's 
life — the essence, he says, of all that has fil- 
tered through his experiences and sufferings, 
and deposited itself in the depths of his heart. 
His very soul speaks from its pages. In de- 
scribing himself he knows that he is describ- 
ing others, because there are joys and sor- 
rows, tumults and trials, that are common to 
all humanity, and he recounts all his recol- 
lections and impressions, the realities and 
phantoms of his life, alike grave and gay. 

The first volume bears the title of ' ' Autre- 
fois," the second that of " Aujourd'hui ;" 
the various parts being respectively headed 
"Aurore," " L'Ame en Fleurs," " Pauca 
mea," "En Marche," " Au Bord de I'lnfini." 

Looking back upon the road that he has 
travelled, he reviews the history of his ex- 
istence page by page. He has reminiscences 
of his two young daughters, 

"One like a swan, one graceful as a dove." 
He goes through the story of his creed, and 



186 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



makes answer to his accusers; he relates 
episodes of his early love and of the days in 
the garden of the Peuillantines; he dedicates 
his reveries to his friends Auguste Vacquerie, 
Alexandre Dumas, and Paul Meurice, and 
that upon his drama "Paris" to Froment 
Meurice; he deplores the daughter he had 
lost, addressing her in words of tenderness, 
and dwelling on the devotion of her husband. 

"Their souls conversed beueath the rushing wfive ; 
• What doesl thou?' she cried, * thou canst not save I' 

'With thee I die,' he ever constant cried: 
And thus in loclved embrace their hands they keep. 
Sinking together in the current deep : 

Ah ! still we hear the moauings of the tide ! 

" Yes, thou wast good, and to thy pledges true, 
Her husband thou, her ardent lover too. 

Deserving all the love of thy sweet bride ! 
Upon the sculptured tablet o'er thee laid, 
Th' Eternal Godhead ever casts his shade ; 

Then sleep, my son, e'er at my daughter's side." 

Besides the problems of life that are dis- 
cussed, "from the complaint of a blade of 
grass to a father's sob," there is a large por- 
tion of "Les Contemplations" devoted to 
literary and political polemics as well as to 
philosophy. The poetry of the inner soul is 
siinple, true, and touching; it penetrates to 
the heart, and while it instructs it never fails 
to soothe and comfort. 

Only courageous critics ventured to praise 
the book. In the Eeime des Deux Mondes 
Gustave Planche again came forward, his 
spleen by no means diminished by the lapse 
of time; he allowed that the sentimental 
verses might be all well enough, but pro- 
nounced the philosophical only fitted to pro- 
voke the smile of contempt ; and he professed 
himself quite unable to regard Victor Hugo's 
attempts at reasoning in a serious light at 
all. In his opinion, whenever the poet left 
his personal experiences and ventured to 
touch upon the origin of things, upon the 
destiny of man, his duties or his rights, and 
the chastisements that were due to his delin- 
quencies, he became childish, and uttered 
what probably would be amusing if only it 
were expressed in plainer language, so as to 
get rid of its obscurity. The critic added 
that, although he had no right to be surprised 
at poetical caprice, he thought it astonishing 
that there should be such an utter absence 
of all knowledge of eternal truths. Planche 
was blinded by his antipathy to the author, 
for nothing could be more generous or more 
elevated than the philosophy that pervades 
the whole of the volumes, which in spite of 
unscrupulous attack made their way to con- 



siderable appreciation. No fault was now 
found, in any quarter, with the poet's style, 
and his genius was admitted to be asserting 
itself more and more completely. 

"Les Contemplations " went through nu- 
merous editions. Borne down though she 
was by the weight of despotism, France re- 
vived at the perusal of the verses of her 
ardent poet; envy might try to put its finger 
on them all, but it was only a debased and a 
prejudiced mind that was not constrained to 
find much to applaud, and that did not listen 
with admiration to the voice of power that 
sent forth its cry from the place of exile. 

Among those who were remarkable for 
the expression of their gratification at the 
appearance of the book was Jules Janin, who 
throughout the continuance of the Empire 
lost no opportunity of displaying his respect, 
for the banished author. Victor Hugo sent 
him a handsome copy of the book, contain- 
ing a drawing in sepia, done by his own hand, 
accompanied by an autograph letter four 
pages long. The volume was sold at Jules 
Janin's sale for 1000 francs. Three years 
later the brilliant critic received from the au- 
thor one of the earliest copies of " La L6- 
gende des Slides," with a dedication and a 
cplored frontispiece, that was sold for 635 
francs. 

"We may here add a few words respect- 
ing "La Legende des Si&cles," of which the 
first part (in two volumes) completes Victor 
Hugo's lyi-ical works in the early years of 
his exile. It was published by Michel Levy 
in Paris, in 1859, and was issued bearing the 
inscription — 

*'The winds, my book, shall thee convey 
Back to my native shores I 
The tree uprooted from the soil 
A faded leaf restores." 

And yet the leaf was not faded in the least;, 
the tree had never been in greater vigor, and 
never had thrown out more splendid branches. 
Again was the acknowledgment forced from 
the general judgment that the pages now 
issued were comparable to any that, had ever 
seen the light before. 

In this gigantic work the poet, with his 
incessant yearning towards great concep- 
tions, has formed the design of writing an 
entire history of the human race by select- 
ing striking and typical epochs so as tO' 
indicate, in tracing out the ages in their or- 
der, the various changes in the physiognomy 
of nations, downward from the era of Eve, 
the mother of men, to the dawn of Eevolu- 




THE JERSEY ROCKS. 



188 



riGTOli HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



tion, the mother of peoples. He thus de- 
scribes his own aim ; 

"To display humanity in a kind of cyclic 
worlc; to depict it successively and simul- 
taneously in all its aspects, historical, fabu- 
lous, philosophical, religious, and scientific, 
all of which unite in one vast ascending 
movement towards the light; to represent as 
it were in a mirror the one great figure, single 
and multiplied, gloomy and cheerful, fatal 
and sacred, Man : this is the idea, this perhaps 
the ambition, that has been the origin of ' La 
Legende des Siecles.' 



programme, Victor Hugo has depicted some 
salient point in each of the great epochs — 
Biblical antiquity, the age of chivalry, medi- 
aeval life, and the modern era. 

Biblical antiquity is represented by three 
great poems — "Le Sacre de la Femme," re- 
counting the marvels of creation and the pure 
joys of Paradise; "La Conscience, "in which 
the punishment of sin is depicted in gloomy 
coloring worthy of Dante; and "La Premi- 
ere Rencontre du Christ avec le Tombeau, " an 
episode which, if not actually derived from 
the Gospel, is inspired by the sacred page. 




.JBANNIE ("LA LEGENDE DES SifiCLES.") 
{From a Drawing by Victor Hugo.) 



' ' The development of the human race 
from age to age; man rising from darkness 
to the ideal; a transfiguration of Paradise 
from a terrestrial hell ; the gradual unfolding 
of liberty; right for this life, responsibility 
as regards the next ; a hymn of a thousand 
strophes with sincere faith in its inmost 
depths and a lofty prayer on its topmost 
heights ; the drama of creation irradiated by 
the countenance of the Creator: this is the 
outline of what the poem aspires to be." 

In accordance with this comprehensive 



Passing on to the legends of the North, 
side by side with Cain he places Canute, the 
parricide, who wanders eternally through 
the darkness of night wrapped in a mantle 
of snow, upon which there falls incessantly 
a trickling drop of blood. 

The conceptions are independent of all 
epic framework, and, taken altogether, "La 
Legende des Slides" may be ranked with 
the very finest and most complete of all 
Victor Hugo's poems. Whether he calls 
forth Androcles's lion, or speaks of the cedar 



VICTOR HUGO AND lUS TIME. 



189 



which at Omer's order covers Jean with its 
shade, he takes his flight through time and 
space, ever gifted with supernatural power 
of thought ; and even when lie pauses to 
sympathize with lea pauvres gens, to weep 
with Jeannie, the poor fisherman's wife, he 
pours forth his thoughts in such exquisite 
pathos that his master slvill is felt to he un- 
rivalled. 

It may easily be imagined how great a 
sensation the appearance of the volume 
produced in France. All the poets of the 



' La Legende des Sifecles ' seems wonderfvd. 
Your letter throughout is stamped with your 
sincere heart and deep intellect. The more 
you read what I have written, the more I 
believe you will tind that we are of the same 
mind, advancing with the same steps to the 
same end. Let us rally beneath the one 
ideal ; let us make for the one goal to which 
mankind directs the doul)le and eternal effort ; 
let us be true to art and progress!" 

The correspondence did not end here. Bau- 
delaire wrote again, promising to send his 




TKB CEDAK ("LA LEGENDE DES SrfeCLES.") 



country wrote to the author to express their 
admiration of his work; and as it was then 
as ever Victor Hugo's habit not to allow a 
letter of any sort to be unanswered, he was 
brought afresh into correspondence with all 
the literary men of the day. 

Among others, he exchanged notes with 
Charles Baudelaire, the author of " Les 
Pleurs du Mai." Baudelaire had told him 
how much he admired his production; and 
in reply Victor Hugo wrote : 

" Thanks, poet. To me what you say of 



translation of Edgar Poe, and begging Victor 
Hugo not to read any other copy beforehand, 
as there were certain corrections to be made. 

Victor Hugo replied: 

' ' Rest assured I will wait. I understand 
all you feel ; I have had no less than eleven 
revisions of 'La Legende des Siticles,' all 
for the sake of a few commas." 

These confidences are interesting, inasmuch 
as they testify to the care bestowed by great 
artists upon their works, which in their esti- 
mation are never perfect. 



190 



riCTOli UUOO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

fliiernsey.— Ilaiitoville House,— The Oak Gallery.— Gai-ibaldi's Chamber — Tlie Study.— Family Pursuita.- 
Pets.— "Les Miserables."— Lamartiiie and his "Cours de Litterature."— Letter from Victor Hugo.- 
Dinners tu Poor Children B.auqnet in Brussels.— M. Grenier's Criticism. 



Between the people of .Jer.sey and the peo- 
ple of Guernsey there has long been a sort of 
antipathy ; it would almost seem as if the ex- 
pulsion of the exiles from the one island gave 
them a claim upon the generosity of the 
other, and they received a -warm welcome 
upon their arrival at Peterport. 

Opportunely Victor Hugo found that there 
was a large and convenient residence to let, 
which he lost no time in securing. It was 
known as Hauteville House. For nine years 
it had been standing empty. Report said that 
a woman had been killed there, and that her 
ghost haunted tlie place everj^ night ; the con- 
sequence was that no one ventured to occu- 
jiy it. But the ghost story had no terrors 
for the poet, and he not only took possession 
of the house, but proceeded to improve it 
by enlarging the rooms, decorating them ac- 
cording to his fancy, and leaving his mark, 
according to his wont, upon all its surround- 
ings. 

The re-arrangement, which was quite an 
occupation for leisure hours, was not com- 
pleted at once, but occupied not less than 
three years; and Victor Hugo referred to the 
interest which he took in his new abode in 
a letter which he wrote to Jules Janin, and 
which has hithei-to been unpublished ; 

' ' You may fancy me as doing little less 
than building a house. I have, no longer a 
country, but I want a home. 

"England has hardlj' been a better guard- 
ian of my fireside than France. My poor 
fireside! France broke it up, Belgium broke 
it up, Jersey broke it up ; and now I am be- 
ginning 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 wortliy prude Albion can help 
me to find mj'self at home. 

' ' The curious thing about all my move- 
ments is that it is literature that is enabling 
me to defray all the expenses of my political 
experiences. 

"I have taken a house in Guernsey. It 



has three stories, a flat roof, a fine flight of 
steps, a court-yard, a crypt, and a lookout; 
but it is all being paid for by the proceeds of 
'Les Contemplations.' 

" 'Les Contemplations ' it is that gives me 
my roof over my head ; and when you have 
time to spare to take from 3'ourself and to 
devote to us, j'ou must come and see us. 
You have liked the poetry; j'ou should come 
and see the home that the poetry lias pur- 
chased." 

As its name implies, Hauteville House is 
situated in the upper part of the town, on the 
top of a cliff, in a small, narrow, winding 
street, which, it must be allowed, is somewhat 
ugly. The front is bare, and painted black, 
which gives it a melancholy aspect external- 
ly; but no sooner has a visitor crossed its 
threshold than he is conscious of a thrill of s 
emotion. He enters tire asylum of a ban- 
ished poet. 

In the outer hall stands an elegant column 
of carved oak, its panels representing scenes 
from "Notre Dame de Paris." The stair- 
case ascends from an inner hall, at the farther 
end of which a door opens into the dining- 
room. 

The walls of the dining-room are adorned 
with four relievos in white porcelain, repre- 
senting huge vases of flowers ; besides which 
there are valual)le plaques, enamels, and 
china ornaments. Around the walls are 
high -backed oak chairs, on which are old ' 
paintings in the Flemish style, warlike epi- 
sodes, with titles furnished to them by the 
poet himself. The table in the centre is 
large and square, also of carved oak; while 
at the extreme end of the room, between two 
windows overlooking the garden, there is a 
huge arm-chair attached to the wall by a 
chain, and called the Sella Defunctorum, be- 
cause it was the seat in which the ancestors 
of the house had presided at the family 
meals. 

On the left is a large earthenware stove, 
above which is placed a statuette of the Vir- 




THE OAK GALLERY IN HAUTEVILLB HOUSE. 



193 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



gin and the Child. Victor Hugo metamor- 
phosed the image so as to malre it a represen- 
tation of Liberty, engraving an inscription, 
which he placed upon the pedestal, indicat- 
ing that he saw in the holy Child a type of 
the growing people: 
"Small though the people be, it great shall prove. 
And from thine arms, prolific mother, rise ; 
Onwards, O Liberty 1 thy footsteps move ; 
Display thy mighty infant to our eyes 1" 

The same sentiment was repeated in a Latin 
hexameter engraved upon the side: 
"Libertas populum, populus dum sustinet orbem." 

The garden seen from the windows, though 
not large, is very charming, being full of ex- 
otics from the South. 

On the ground-floor the other rooms are a 
smoking-room and two parlors. On the first 
landing is the room that was occupied by 
Augusts Vacquerie. The first floor contains 
the sleeping -apartments of the family and 
the two salons — one known as the red draw- 
ing-room, the other as the blue. 

In the blue room is a table the history of 
which has often been told. Before the 
poet's exile some charitable individuals who 
were organizing a bazaar came and asked 
him to allow his inkstand to be put up to 
auction. Not content with so modest a gift, 
Victor Hugo wrote to Lamartine, Georges 
Sand, and Dumas the elder, inviting them to 
join him in his present, and to make a similar 
contribution. They all complied with his 
request, and he had the four inkstands set in 
the corners of an elegant oak table. When 
the day of sale arrived, he was himself the 
purchaser of the article of furniture, for 
which he paid a liberal price, and which is 
now preserved among other curiosities at 
Hauteville House. 

The second floor is entirely occupied by 
the famous Oak Gallery, constituting a mu- 
seum that is in every way remarkable. Along 
one side are five large windows overlooking 
the sea; in the middle is an enormous oak 
candelabrum with many branches, surmount- 
ed by a wooden statue carved by Victor 
Hugo's own hands. Behind this is an open 
balustrade likewise carved in oak, and a 
large couch, originally intended as a bed for 
Garibaldi, to whom the poet, at the time of 
the Mentana affair, had sent an offer of ho.s- 
pitality. 

The verses in which the invitation was 
conveyed are well known : 

" Yes, come ! O brother of the bruised spirit, come ! 
Though exiles we, for thee we gladly find a home. 



Consent to come, and hospitality partake 

With us, of whom no tyrant's power slaves could' 

make. 
For Italy, for France, together let us see 
The promise of the glorious day of liberty ! 
Together in the evening wait the dawning light 
When nations shall confess the majesty of right !" 

Circumstances prevented the great patriot 
from accepting this earnest invitation, and 
the two national emancipators have never 
met; but that portion of the Oak Gallery has 
never ceased to be known as Garibaldi's , 
Chamber. 

On the third story is the study, a kind of 
belvedere, with its sides and roof composed 
of glass. In this study, which overlooked 
the little town of St. Sampson and its pictu- 
resque promontory, the poet did his work, 
his books lying around him at his feet, and 
his sheets pf manuscript scattered about the 
sofa, or on the top of the earthenware stove. 
Without express permission no one was al- 
lowed to enter this retreat. 

Adjoining the study are several apart- 
ments containing books and papers, a bed- 
room in which the poet not unfrequently re- 
cMned, and the modest apartment reserved for 
Madame Chenay, Victor Hugo's half-sister, 
who since 1870 has resided in the house alone. 

Throughout the house the light is very 
subdued, reminding one of such residences as 
Sir Walter Scott is given to describe. Every- 
thing about the place bears the impress of its 
occupier, reflecting in a way his work and 
genius. Although he did not build it, it may 
still be reckoned as his own creation ; it is 
adorned entirely after his own fancy, and 
enlivened by his own reminiscences and de- 
signs. He would appear to have taken upon 
himself the functions of architect, painter, 
upholsterer, sculptor, collector, and decora- 
tor, and so to have converted the house into 
a witness of himself, that renders Guernsey 
henceforth historical. 

The mode of life at Hauteville House is 
generally known. Every member of the- 
household had work to do. The daughter, 
Ad61e, composed music ; the elder son wrote 
dramas and romances; his brother translated 
Shakespeare, rendering alike the spirit and 
the letter of the original, and making, as his 
father said, deep researches into his genius; 
Madame Victor Hugo collected notes of her 
husband's life, and commenced the book 
which her death prevented her from bring- 
ing to completion; while Auguste Vaoquerie 
made a daily store of literary studies — 
learned, descriptive, or humorous — from 




YICTOK HUGO S STUDY AT HAUTEVILLE HOUSE. 
13 



194 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



which he afterwards compiled his popular 
works "Les Miettes de I'Histoire," and 
" Proflls et Grimaces." 

In writing in 1856 to Ernest Leffevre, Vac- 
querie says : 

"I have a library that is quite unique. 
Do you know what I have read this year ? 
In poems I have read, 'Dieu,' 'La Pin de 
Satan,' and 'Les Petites fipopees;' in dra- 
ma I have got through ' Homo, ' ' Le The- 
fitre en Liberte,' and 'Les Drames de I'ln- 
visible;' in lyrics, 'Les Contemplations,' 
and 'Chansons des Rues et des Bois;' and 
in philosophy the 'Essai d'Explication,' a 
book that twenty-five years of thought have 
not yet completed. For my library I have 
Victor Hugo's manuscripts, and I rove at my 
will among cliefs-d'ceuwe that no eye has 
hitherto seen. I have ' Ruy Bias' all to 
myself. It is an indescribable feeling to be 
all alone in these unpublished realms of 
thought, among untouched strophes, amid 
the purity of such creations and the virginity 
of their dawn. It is like Adam's ecstasy 
over his first day in Paradise." 

Victor Hugo has given his own account of 
these prolific years of work. In speaking 
of his sons, he says that they simply did 
their duty. They served and glorified their 
country, spending their lives in her service, 
though they were far away. They honored 
their mother, they mourned for the sister 
they had lost, they cherished the sister that 
was left to them; they assisted their father 
to bear his banishment, and acted as broth- 
ers to their companions in adversity. They 
proved themselves worthy of the poet, 
knowing how to struggle and how to en- 
dure. 

Hauteville House was a general refuge, 
and no application for admittance was re- 
fused. One of the rooms by the side of Vic- 
tor Hugo's study was placed at the disposal 
of any Frenchman of letters who wanted to 
write a book as the occupation of his exile, 
and Gerard de Nerval, Ourliac, Balzac, and 
not a few others, at different times occupied 
the apartment, Victor Hugo providing board 
as well as lodging, and felicitously calling 
the retreat " the raft of Medusa." 

Not only was the house full of visitors, it 
abounded with pets, all happy and well cared 
for. ' ' It gratifies me, " said Vacquerie, ' ' that 
this abode of genius is the abode of animals; 
the creatures love those that loye them, and 
always pick out the best among us." In his 
"Proflls et Grimaces " he has devoted several 



pages to these four-footed inmates, giving 
the history of Ponto, the handsome spaniel, 
good-tempered and faithless; of Chougna, 
the watch-dog, brutal in aspect, yet gentle in 
temper; of Lux, Charles Hugo's favorite; 
and of Mouche, the great black-and-white 
cat, equally defiant and morose. 

From Belgium Madame Victor Hugo had 
brought a magnificent greyhound, which 
was stuffed after its death, and still stands in 
the house. The inscription on its collar was 
by the poet himself: 

" Whoever shall find me, please to take me whence I 
came; 

Fm Madame Hugo's dog, and S6nat is my name." 

The name was doubtless given as a souvenir 
of the senate of the Second Empire. Alto- 
gether, the house seemed to suggest Madame 
de Stael's words, "The more I know men, 
the more I love dogs;" not that the love of 
dogs in the place in the least interfered with 
the kindness and consideration uniformly 
shown to human" beings. 

Such was the home where the author of 
"La Legende des SiScles" resided, and 
where, according to the rule that he laid 
down for himself, he worked almost literally 
from morning to night. 

Here, too, was finished "Les Miserables," 
that marvellous production which goes far to 
justify the name that has been bestowed upon 
it, of "the work of the century." It had 
been commenced in the Place Royale, and 
was to have been published by Gosselin and 
Renduel about 1848, one portion of it being 
then entitled, "Le Manuscrit de I'llvgque." 
But political events interrupted the compo- 
sition, so that its issue was deferred until 
now. Meanwhile its original design had 
been much enlarged. Carried away by his 
imagination, the author continued to expand 
the work, never wearying of introducing 
new episodes, inserting new incidents, and 
even adding new chapters. 

In August, 1861, a year before the appear- 
ance of the book, Victor Hugo wrote from 
Schiedam, in Holland, to Paul Foucher, in 
reply to a request that he had made to be al- 
lowed to dramatize the romance : 

"My son Charles has already taken notes 
for this purpose, but it is not impossible that 
there may be material enough in ' Les Mise- 
rables ' to form the subject of more than one 
drama. The work will appear in three parts, 
each having its own title, and each, in fact, 
being a separate story, although the whole 
book revolves around one central, single 



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t> *ji-j 



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'"ft 



JEAN VALJBAN (" LES MISEliABLES "). 



196 



VIOTOli HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



figure ; it is a sort of planetary system, making 
the circuit about one giant mind that is the 
personification of all existing social evil. " 

When the book really appeared in 1863, it 
came out in five parts, called respectively 
"Fantine," "Cosette," "Marius," "L'Idylle 
Rue Plumet et r:&popee Rue Saint-Denis," 
and "Jean Valjean." Moreover, instead of 
consisting of two octavo volumes, as had 
been . previously announced, it extended to 
no less than ten. It was published simul- 
taneously in Paris, Brussels, Leipsic, Lon- 
don, Milan, Madrid, Rotterdam, Warsaw, 
Pesth, and Rio Janeiro. 

Seven thousand copies were issued in the 
original Paris edition, which was published 
by Pagnerre, every one of which was sold 
within two days. The printer, Claye, had 
fortunately taken the precaution to keep a 
number in resei-ve, so that a fresh supply was 
ready in a fortnight afterwards, and thus the 
aggregate of the first Paris edition amount- 
ed to 15,000 copies. The Brussels edition 
reached 13, 000, the Leipsic being 3000. Cop- 
ies of foreign translations were issued to the 
number of 35,950, without including those 
that were pirated. Two illustrated editions 
were likewise produced, and subsequently a 
splendid edition de luxe was published by 
Hughes; so that, on the whole, the circulation 
may be estimated at himdreds of thousands, 
and the book may be reckoned as one of the 
most wonderful successes of the kind that 
have ever been known. 
/ The secret of the success was not hard to 
find. The powerful voice of Victor Hugo, 
raised as it had ever been in behalf of the 
disendowed classes, was bound to be heard 
by all the world ; and here were his whole soul 
and his ardent love for the people all thrown 
into a work in a way which made it the cul- 
l minating point of his social evolution. 

Pull of pity for such as have been crushed 
by fate, he becomes the champion of the un- 
fortunate, while he is full of sympathy for 
those who rise from their degradation. He 
extends his hand to all who are oppressed in 
any way by social law, and even pleads for 
pardon for those whose crimes are the result 
of hereditary vice or evil example. 

All the philosophy of the work is summed 
up in a few lines in the preface: 

"As long as the action of laws and cus- 
toms is the cause of the existence of a social 
damnation that artificially creates a hell in 
the full light of civilization; as long as there 
is found no solution of the three problems of 



the age — the degradation of men by the pro- 
letarian, the decay of women by hunger, and 
the atrophy of children by night ; as long 
as social asphyxia is possible in certain re- 
gions; or, in other terms, and from a wider 
point of view, as long as misery and igno- 
rance prevail, so long will it be true that 
books of this kind have a service to render." 

It is not requisite for us here to analyze a 
work which has been admired by all who 
have I'cad it. From Jean Valjean to Gavroche, 
every character that plays a part in "Les 
Miserables " is universally known. There is 
scarcely any one who has not been touched 
by the grace of the descriptions, by the clear- 
ness of the portraits, and by the vigor of the 
incidents. /The grandeur of its tout ensemble, 
the artistic richness of its style, the boldness 
of its composition, explain how it is that not 
only in France, but throughout the educated 
world, the book has found such a multitude 
of readers. J 

"Something exists,'' said the poet to us 
one day, "I know not what, in common 
with me and the people, that makes us un- 
derstand each other." 

And so it is. The heart of the populace 
strikes home to his heart, and for that simple 
reason " Les Miserables" has found its way 
into every land. During one of his journeys 
in Eastern Russia, M. Alfred Rambaud came 
across a Russian translation in a bookseller's 
shop at Kazan, a town that is half Tartar; 
and General Lee's niece has related how, 
during the War of Secession, the American 
soldiers carried English translations in their 
knapsacks, and used to read them in the in- 
tervals of battle by the light of their camp- 
fires. This was known as the Volunteer's 
Edition; and the men would amuse them- 
selves by calling each other Marius, Myriel, 
Valjean, or some other name that figures in 
the book. An immense number of copies, 
moreover, are scattered about the republics 
of South America; and even Japanese ver- 
sions are in existence. 

Immediately on its appearance, the critics 
began to deal with it in long and thought- 
ful articles. Barbey d'Aurevilly, Voirsuon, 
Courtat, and many more, published elaborate 
nptices sufficient to fill a volume. But the 
only criticism that we will stop to consider 
is that given in the pages devoted to "Les 
Miserables" by Lamartine in his "Cours de 
Litterature." The familiar conversations on 
the subject are called "Considerations sur 
un Chef-d'oeuvre, ou le Danger du Genie." 




GAVKOCnE ("LES MISERABLES "). 



198 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



The author of "Les Meditations" begins 
hy owning that he had been much pressed 
to publish his views on this impassioned and 
radical criticism on society. But before do- 
ing so he wrote to Victor Hugo, telling him 
that while reading the book he had been al- 
ternately charmed by its picturesqueness 
and shoclied by its principles, declaring that 
its radicalism and denunciation of society 
were repugnant to him, simply because so- 
ciety, though imperfect as being human, was 
sacred as being a necessity. He proceeded 
to say that if he wrote upon "Les Misera- 
bles " he sjiould respect the genius and talent 
of the author, but that no admiration of his 
skill could prevent him from cordially op- 
posing his theory ; and representing that 
from this opposition to the theory he must 
involuntarily be brought into collision both 
with the author and his work. Accordingly 
he would await a reply before writing a sin- 
gle line of the admiration and of the censure 
that were simultaneously boiling within him. 

Victor Hugo replied two or three times, 
invariably giving Lamartine full permission 
to do precisely as he pleased. Among other 
things, he said to him: 

"If radicalism is the ideal, I am a radical. 
From eveiy point of view I want and de- 
mand what is best. The proverb says ' Let 
well alone;' but that is very much the same 
as saying that the best and the evil are 
one. . . . 

"Yes, a society that admits miseiy, a hu- 
manity that admits war, seem to me an in- 
ferior society and a debased humanity. It 
is a higher society and a more elevated hu- 
manity 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 any- 
thing, I long to destroy human fatality. I 
condemn slavery, I chase away misery, I in- 
struct ignorance, I illumine darkness, I dis- 
card malice. Hence it is that I have v/ritten 
'Les Miserables!' 

"To my own mind it is a book that has 
fraternity for its pedestal, and progress for 
its crown. 

"Then, take the book and weigh it well. 
Literary comigunications between men of 



letters are simply ridiculous; but political 
and social debate between equals — that is to 
say, philosophers — may be as useful as it is 
weighty. 

" You for your part, it is plain enough, to 
a great extent desire the same things as I; 
only perhaps you would take a less precipi- 
tous path. For myself, with so much suffer- 
ing before my gaze, 'I would strictly avoid 
all violence and retaliation, but otherwise I 
would take the very shortest path that is pos- 
sible." 

Lamartine still hesitated, and Victor Hugo 
shortly afterwards sent him another charac- 
teristic letter: 

" Deab Lamaktine, — So long ago as 1820 
my first lisping as a youthful poet was a cry 
of admiration for your briUiant sun, which 
was just rising on the world. What I wrote 
still fills a page in my works, and I still love 
that page well; it was written, with many 
others, for your glorification. 

" The hour has now come when you have 
to speak about me. I am proud to know it. 
For forty years we have loved each other, 
and we are not dead yet. You will, I am 
sure, spoil neither the past nor the future. 
Do what you please with my book. From 
your hands nothing will proceed but light. 
' ' Your old friend, 

"VictobHtigo." 

Thereupon Lamartine came to his decision, 
and announced his intention of demonstrat- 
ing what he believed to be social truth for all 
men, and even for all intellects. We may 
take it upon ourselves to say that he was un- 
equal to the task. 

In an interminable dialogue between him- 
self and a convict named Baptistin, he tries 
to prove that "Les Miserables" is a misno- 
mer for the book, which ought rather to have 
been called "(Les Scelerats," "Les Pares- 
seux," "L'fipopge de la Canaille," or even 
"L'Homme contre la Socifite." He com- 
plains that it can only inspire a single pas- 
sion — the desire of overturning society as it 
is, only to re-establish it on a type that is ad- 
vocated by an erratic man of genius; and he 
is thus led on into a severe disquisition upon 
Plato, Jean Jacques Eousseau, Saint-Simon, 
Proudhon, and finally upon Victor Hugo, 
whom he rei^resents as suffering from verti- 
go, and laboring under a sickly sentimental- 
ity, like a St. John upon Patmos, weeping 
tears of indignation, and fancying that he is 



VIVTOM HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



199 



■writing f 01' the people, when all the time he 
is writing against them. 
, He repudiates the idea of sharing in any 
degree the envy or paltry jealousy of his pro- 
fession, declaring that Victor Hugo is "a 
sovereign artist," vrho, though he sometimes 
strains his pencil, yet repeatedly makes it 
deliver thoughts that are immortal; and, be- 
sides this, he acknowledges that Victor Hugo 
was right when he said, "I have an advan- 
tage over Lamartine in understanding him, 
while he could not understand my dramatic 
genius." He owns, for instance, that he never 
could comprehend either "Hernani" or 
"Buy Bias." Nevertheless, he claims to un- 
derstand society, and indulges in his own 
vision of what it ought to be. 

Between Victor Hugo and Lamartine there 
was this great difference — the one had ad- 
vanced, while the other had been going back. 
Lamartine reproaches his friend for not hav- 
ing kept faithful to his creed of 1848, the 
time when he had Hugo's two sons working 
under him in his office for Foreign Affairs; 
he laments that the author of "Les ChSti- 
ments " should have gone so far as to write 
revengeful poetry, of which nothing was to 
be admired but the power; he deplores the 
production, of the diatribes that stigmatize in- 
dividuals, avowing that if they were written 
with one hand they ought to be erased with 
the other; because in politics, although there 
may be fighting, there should never be insult. 

In the end, Lamartine comes to the conclu- 
sion that "Les Miserables" is an unjust and 
exaggerated onslaught upon society, leading 
men on to abhor the social order which is 
their salvation, and to rave for a social disor- 
der which would prove their destruction. 
He takes much precaution in softening all 
asperity of expression; but, in spite of his 
care, he passes a stern condemnation upon all 
Victor Hugo's dramatic works, especially on 
those of the period of his exile. He confesses, 
what is not in any way to his honor, that he 
has arrived at a time of life when he feels 
that he must yield to the pressure of circum- 
stances, and regard society as it exists to be 
the accomplishment of centuries. To his 
mind Victor Hugo is a Utopian, and Utopi- 
ans are more to be dreaded than knaves, be- 
cause no one distrusts them, and every one is 
pleased with their flatteries; and hence he 
pronounces "Les Miserables" to be a dan- 
gerous book, inasmuch as it makes those who 
are happy fear too much, and those who are 
unhappy hope too much. | 



No doubt it is painful to read all tliis criti- 
cism; it exhibits only too plainly the enfee- 
blement of a gi-eat intellect. Lamartine was 
entering upon the old-age which was not to 
augment his glory, and apparently he had 
ceased to believe in human progress. Victor 
Hugo was full of tenderness for those who 
mourn and for those who suffer. He could 
not see why humanity should be condemned 
to perpetual woe; his wish was not only to 
ameliorate its lot, but to second the efforts of 
all who cherished the same aim. 

It did not content Victor Hugo while he 
was in Guernsey to plead the cause of the 
miserable in his books; from the year 1861 
he labored to put his theoiy into practice by 
entertaining a number of poor children, who 
were brought every week to his house by 
their mothers. At first eight, then fifteen, 
then twenty, and afterwards forty came to 
sit at his table, where they were waited on by 
himself and his household, and regaled with 
slices of roast beef and glasses of wine, and 
told ' ' to laugh and be merry." It seemed to 
Victor Hugo that his idea was worthy of im- 
itation; considering it not "almsgiving," but 
"fraternity," and holding that this blending 
of poor families with his own was as advan- 
tageous to him as it was to them ; it was all 
in accordance with the spirit of pure democ- 
racy, and the result should be that, while we 
learn to serve them, they should be brought 
to love us. At Christmas - time especially 
there were great festivities, and a general dis- 
tribution of toys, cakes, and clothing. 

The poet did not lose the gratification of 
seeing that this charming institution stirred 
up many others to imitate his example;. as 
the issue of the initiative that he had taken, 
thousands of dinners were given away to the 
needy throughout England and America. 
Hauteville House was the original starting- 
point of the movement which has produced 
such capacious charitable halls in London. 

In opening one of his Christmas feasts, Vic- 
tor Hugo made a speech, and said: 

"An act of emancipation it is to succor 
children. In health and education there is a 
real liberation; by fortifying a poor suffering 
body, and by developing an unciHtured in- 
tellect, we accomplish a great thing ; we re- 
move disease from the body; we take away 
ignorance from the mind. My idea of pro- 
viding a substantial dinner for the destitute 
has been well received almost everywhere; 
as an institution of fraternity it is accepted 
with a cordial welcome — accepted by Chris- 



wo 



no TOE HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



tians as being in conformity with tlie Gos- 
pel, and by democrats as being agreeable to 
the principles of the Revolution. Let us 
bring the brotherhood of the present to bear 
upon the future: let us lay out what we can; 

, it will all be restored to our children. The 
child is the field of the coming generation; 
what grows in it will be the harvest of the 

-next age; he is the gei-m of the society that 
is to be. Let us cultivate his mind; let us 
instil the principles of justice and of joy. 
By elevating the child we elevate the people 
of the future." 

The English press did not fail to acknowl- 
edge what their country owed to the benevo- 
lence that prompted the ideas of the French 
■political exiles. The Times published a 
statement declaring Uiat the health of the 
children in the Westminster Ragged Schools 
had appreciably improved from the time 
they were provided with a substantial meal 
given them once a week. To our mind the 
association is clear, and so it has been by 
design that we have introduced this notice 
"of dinners to the poor in direct connection 
with our review of "Les Miserables," the 
one work appearing to be the complement 
of the other. 

"When the book was given to the world, 
the publishers in Brussels — Lacroix and Ver- 
boeckhoven — sent the author an invitation 
to a banquet, which he did not hesitate long 
in accepting. The announcement was known 
throughout Europe, and excited some atten- 
tion among the imperial police in Paris. 
Prom all quarters — from France, England, 
Italy, and Spain — Victor Hugo's friends and 
admirers came flocking to meet him. Mr. 
Lowe represented the English press, and M. 
Ferrari the Italian ; while associated with 
them were Louis Blanc, Eugene Pelletan, 
Neflltzer, De Banvllle, Champfleury, and a 
long catalogue of others. The banquet was 
held in M. Lacroix's house, and was attended 
by eighty distinguished guests. All the Bel- 
gian newspapers were represented, and the 
principal magistrates were also present. Vic- 
tor Hugo presided, having the Burgomaster of 
Brussels on his right hand, and the President 
of the Chamber of Representatives on his left. 
The entertainment passed off without any 
contretemps, and must be admitted to have 
been an important event, literary as well as 
/political, as being a reunion of the talent and 
intellect of the civilized world at once pro- 
testing against the Empire and manifesting 
its sympathy with the exile. 



Many speeches were delivered. In the name 
of the international book-trade, MM. Lacroix 
and Verboeckhoven tendered their thanks to 
the author of "Les Miserables;" M. Nefiftzer 
spoke for Le Temps, M. Berardi for L'Inde- 
pendance Beige, and M. Pelletan for Le Steele. 
Louis Blanc pronounced a few touching 
words; then Champfleury addressed the dis-" 
tinguished guest in the name of the prose^,: 
writers; and finally Theodore de Banville oh 
behalf of the poets. 

Tears fell from the eyes of the exile as 
he listened to these speeches, rivalling each 
other in their tone of admiration and affec- 
tion. In returning thanks, he said: 

"Eleven years ago,- my friends, you saw 
me departing from among you comparatively 
young. You see me now grown old. But, 
though my hair has changed, my heart re- 
mains the same. I thank you for coming 
here to-day, and beg you to accept my best 
and warmest acknowledgments. In the midst 
of you I seem once more to be breathing my 
native air; every Frenchman seems to bring- 
me a fragment of France; and while thus I 
find myself in contact with your spirits, a 
beautiful glamour appears to encircle my 
soul, and to charm me like the smile of my 
mother-coimtry. " 

Prolonged applause greeted his speech, 
and, after a few words from the burgomas- 
ter, to which Victor Hugo again replied, the 
memorable gathering broke up. 

Meanwhile the critics were going on with 
their work, and M. Grenier, a man' of consid- 
erable literary power, and the editor of the 
Gonstitutionnel, took up the argument of La^ 
martine, and wrote : 

"According to M. Hugo, society as it ex- 
ists is the origin and author of all the crimes 
that appal us and all the miseries that afflict 
us ; it is a league of the strong, bound to- 
gether in a merciless compact by their own 
selfish interests against the weak, who are im- 
posed upon in their helplessness; it is a uni- 
versal system of untruth, iniquity, and op- 
pression, which covers the most crying abuses 
and the worst disorder with the specious 
varnish which it designates law and justice. 
Crime has no refuge but crime; shame has 
nothing to expect but shame; misery has no- 
flight beyond misery. . Such is the basis 
of the teaching of 'Les MisSrables.' The 
doctrine is a misappreciation of human nat- 
ure; it confines itself to the study of certain 
deplorable facts that every one regrets, and 
that it is no one's business to alter." 




THE DISKEK TO TOOK CHILDKEN. 



203 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



But need we reply that to alter them is 
precisely what ought to be done? All honor 
is due to those who, holding that .society is 
responsible for the ills of humanity, lay them- 
selves out to rectify its laws. It may be true 
that any progress that can be made must be 
slow, but there is no room to deny that such 
progress may exist. 

While, however, M. Grenier took this dis- 
paraging view of the philosoph}' which char- 
acterized "Les Miserables," he gave his tes- 



timony to the literary charms of the book. 
He confessed that it sparkled with many 
beauties ; he gave an unqualified admiration 
to the purity of its eloquence, declaring that 
the delineation of Fantine was most touch- 
ing, and the description of Waterloo the work 
of a true poet. 

Before long complete justice was done to 
the book, which earned for itself in some 
quarters the title of ' ' The Gospel of the 
People." 




nor on HUGO and ma time.. 



303 



CHAPTER XXVIL 

"Victor Hugo and Capital Punishment.— " Le Dei-nier Jour d'un Condamnfi."— "Claude Gneux."— The Verses 

that Saved Barb68' Life — Louis Philippe's Recognition Speech in the Constitnent Assembly.— Trial of 

Charles Hugo,— Defence by his Father Protests from Jersey.— A Letter to Lord Palmerston.— John 

Brown and America.— Debate of the Genevan Eepuhlic— " Pour uu Soldat." 



Of all the causes of which Victor Hugo 
-was the champion, that of the abolition of 
•capital punishment is without dispute the 
one to which he devoted himself with the 
^eatest energy. 

As far back as 1839 he had published " Le 
Dernier Jour d'un Condamne," which, being 
anonymous, was supposed by not a few of 
the reviewers to be the work either of an 
Englishman or an American. Written in 
■consequence of an execution that had taken 
place on the GrSve, it contains a description 
of all the physical sufCering, and an analysis 
of all the mental torture, that a condemned 
man is likely to undergo in the course of the 
few hours preceding his execution. This 
thrilling appeal was eagerly read at the time, 
and in 1832 a preface was added which con- 
tained the following passage : 

"It is the author's aim and design that 
posterity should recognize in his work rwt a 
mere special pleading for any one particular 
criminal, which is always easy and always 
transitory, but a general and permanent ap- 
peal in behalf of all the accused, alike of the 
present and of the future. Its great point is 
the right of humanity urged upon society. 
It comes face to face with the question of 
life and death denuded of all the equivoca- 
tions of the bar, brought boldly out into the 
light of day, and placed where it must per- 
force be seen in its true and terrible colors — 
not at the tribunal, but at the scafEold; not in 
the presence of the judge, but under the 
hands of the executioner." 

Nothing could be more eloquent than the 
plea in favor of the total abrogation of the 
penalty; and never has Victor Hugo been 
brought within view of a scafEold without 
raising his voice in defence of the inviola- 
bility of human life. 

In 1834 he wrote "Claude Gueux,'' the 
history of one of those peculiar though not 
infrequent cases of murder under extenuat- 
ing circumstances, where the victim is less 



interesting than the murderer. It came out 
originally in the Beviie de Paris, of which M. 
Buloz had the management at the time. Two 
years previously the poet had interceded in 
vain for the unhappy hero who, after all, 
was executed. The story is terrible, and 
concludes with a soul-stirring reproof to the 
members of the Chamber, bidding them to 
take to pieces the old lame scale of penalties, 
and to remodel it afresh. 

"There are," he said, "too many heads 
cut off every year in France. You profess 
to be anxious to economize; be economical in 
this. Pay schoolmasters instead of execu- 
tioners. Many a man has become a high- 
wayman who, under proper guidance and 
better teaching, would have proved an excel- 
lent citizen. Consider this head before you 
proceed to decapitation ; cultivate it, weed 
it, dress it, fertilize it, illumine it, utilize it; 
you can do far better with it than cut it off. " 

He deemed the penalty so unworthy of a 
civilized nation that he never lost an oppor- 
tunity of delivering his protest against it. 
On the 13th of May, 1839, while he was at 
the theatre witnessing the performance of 
"La Esmeralda," the report reached him 
that Barbfes had been sentenced, and was 
condemned to be executed for the part he 
had taken in an insurrection. He hurried 
off to the greenroom, seized a sheet of paper, 
and in allusion to the recent death of the lit- 
tle Princess Mary and the recent birth of the 
Comte de Paris, he wrote a few lines, and 
sent them immediately to Louis Philippe: 

" Oh, by thy child that is gone, fled away like a dove I 
Oh, by the prince that is born and claims your sweet 

love! 
The tomb and the cradle their messages send ; 
Be gracious ! show mercy ! and pardon extend." 

The king, who had resisted the entreaties 
of the duke and duchess, yielded to the pe- 
tition of the poet. He wrote to him, "I, for 
my part, accede to your request; it on^y re- 
mains to obtain the assent of the ministry." 



304 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



That assent was secured, and Barb6s' life was 



This incident has been recorded by Victor 
Hugo in the seventh volume of " Les Misera- 
blea." BarbSs sent him a letter of thankful 
acknowledgment : 

"In my hour of danger I am proud to find 
myself protected by a kindly ray of your 
light. I could not die while you were my 
defender. I have not had the chance of 
showing myself worthy of being shielded by 
you, but each one has his own fate, and they 
were not all heroes whom Achilles saved. 

' ' And now that I am writing, let me give 
you, in the name of France and of our holy 
cause, a thousand thanks for the great book 
that you have written. I believe that no other 
land save the land of Joan of Arc and of the 
Eevolution was capable of producing your 
spirit and your genius. Happy son ! happy 
in having placed upon your mother's brow 
a new garland of glory. 

" Yours, with deep affection, 

"A. BarbJis. 

"LaH.iye, July 10, 1862." 

In reply, Victor Hugo sent him a charming 
letter, which has been included in the biog- 
raphy written by Madame Hugo. 

The unremitted attacks which he made 
upon the scaffold did much to procure him 
the esteem of Louis Philippe, who was him- 
self most strohgly opposed to capital punish- 
ment. One day, when the poet had been sum- 
moned to the Tuileries, the king said to him : 

" M. Hugo, I shall create you a peer of 
France. The title, which is the highest that 
our political order can confer, is ostensibly 
given you in recognition of your literary tal- 
ent; but I wish you to understand that it is 
my especial desire that you should be re- 
warded for your noble efforts towards the 
abolition of the punishment of death." 

In 1848, as a representative in the Assem- 
bly, he continued his agitation. Ascending 
the tribune, he exclaimed : 

"Capital punishment is the peculiar and 
undeviating sign of barbarism. Where capi- 
tal punishment is frequent, barbarism pre- 
vails; where it is rare, civilization predomi- 
nates. At the head of the preamble of your 
constitution you write, ' In the sight of God,' 
and yet you proceed at once to rob God of 
what is essentially his own prerogative, the 
power of Ufe and death. I mount this trib- 
une to say one thing, which I believe to be 



unanswerable. I say that after the 3d of 
February the people had conceived a grand 
idea. They had burned the throne; they 
longed to burn the scaffold. I grieve that 
those who acted then on the people's behalf 
did not rise to the greatness of the people's 
heart. In the first article of the constitution 
for which you are voting, you have carried 
out the people's foremost thought-r-you have 
overturned the throne. Now go on and do 
more — carry out their second thought, and 
overturn the scaffold!" 

But the motion was lost. 

Again, in 1849, Victor Hugo made a vigor- 
ous attempt to procure pardon for the men 
who had been condemned to death in the 
Brea affair ; but the attempt was fruit- 
less. 

In 1851 Charles Hugo was brought to trial 
because he had written an article in L'^vene- 
ment against the execution of Montcharmont, 
which had just taken place under horrible 
circumstances. The poet asked and obtained 
permission to defend his son. 

Charles Hugo's writing that had given of- 
fence was to this effect: 

"Four days ago in the public square of a 
French town, the law — that is to say, the di- 
vine and wholesome power of society — took 
a wretched creature by the neck, by the arms 
and legs, and having torn the hair from his 
head, and the skin from his body, dragged 
him howling and struggling to the scaffold. 
There, in the presence of a terrified and awe- 
struck crowd, the law continued for a whole 
hour to wrestle with crime." 

Large and eager was the audience that as- 
sembled to hear the poet's defence of the ac- 
cused. 

"Gentlemen of the jury," he said, "you 
will understand me when I say that if there is 
any guilty party in this case, that guilty party 
is not my son, but myself. Myself, I say, 
because for the last twenty-five years I have 
been the open opponent of ii-revocable pen- 
alties in every form, and because I have pub- 
licly taken every opportunity of asserting the 
inviolability of human life. 

"This crime of defending the inviolability 
of life, if it be a crime, has been mine over 
and over again. Long before it was com- 
mitted by my son, it was committed by my- 
self with design, with premeditation, with 
persistency. 

"Yes, I declare that all my life I have' 
strenuously and consistently opposed this 
remnant of savage codes, this ancient and 



VICTOR IIUQO AND HIS TIME. 



205 



intelligent rule of retaliation, this vindictive 
law of blood for blood. And what I have 
done in the past I will do wliile I have breath 
in my body for the future. What I have 
done as a writer I shall continue to do as a 
legislator; and this I avow as it were before 
Christ, the greatest of all victims of capital 



from his soul — a cry of horror, nay, a cry of 
common humanity — you would piuiisli him 
for that cry! In the face of all the terrible 
events that have transpired, you would say 
to the guillotine, ' You are right,' and to pity, 
blessed, sacred pity, j^ou would say, ' You 
are wrong.' 




CHARLES HUGO. 



punishment; this I declare in the very pres- 
ence of that cross to which, eighteen centuries 
ago, for the eternal instruction of the world, 
human law nailed the law that was divine. 

"And now, when a single cry escapes a 
young man's lips, a cry of anguish coming 



" And you, my son, are honored in being 
deemed worthy to fight, if not to suffer, in 
the holy cause of truth. From this day for- 
ward you enter upon the manly life of our 
time ; you take your place in the struggle for 
the true and the just. As yet j^ou are but a 



306 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



soldier in the rank and file of democratic 
sentiment; but you may well be proud to 
stand, though it be in the dock, where Beran- 
ger and Lamennais have stood before you. 
Stand firm, then, my son, in your convictions; 
stand firm in your belief in progress; stand 
firm in .your faith In the future, in your ab- 
horrence of irrevocable penalties, in your 
execration of the scaffold! And if you re- 
quire a' thought to strengthen you, remember 
that you are only arraigned at the bar at 
which Lesurques has been arraigned be- 
fore!" 

The sensation caused. by the speech was 
very great, and many hands were out- 
stretched towards the orator. The attorney- 
general replied, and M. Cremieux spoke elo- 
quently in behalf of the editor of L'Evene- 
ment. The jury gave their verdict. 

The character of that verdict and the view 
that was taken of it may be understood by 
a few extracts from the newspapers of the 
time. 

On the same evening the following ap- 
peared in La Presse : 

"Condemnation of Chaeles Hugo. 

" ' Only on rave occasions is the scaffold now erect- 
ed in our public squares, and then only as a spectacle 
of which justice is ashamed.* — Leoit Fauoueb, 1836. 

" This day, the 11th of June, 1851, Charles 
Hugo, who was defended by his father, Victor 
Hugo, has been sentenced to six months' im- 
prisonment, because, under the Republic, he 
has written precisely what the above extract 
shows that Leon Faucher wrote imder the 
Monarchy. 

" 'M. L. N. BoNAPABTB, President 

of the Bepublic. 
" 'M. RotrHBR, Minister of Justice. 
" 'M. Leon Fattchee, Minister of 

the Interior.' 

"A tomb wants nothing but a date. 

"Liberty in France exists no more. 

" If I were to say all I felt during the trial 
from which I have just returned, I should be 
sent to join Nefftzer of La Presse and Charles 
Hugo of L'Evenement inside a prison. 

' ' However, I hold my tongue. I may have 
another part to play than the part of defend- 
ant. The time may come when I shall have 
to act as judge. I am silent now. 
"Emile db Gikaedin, 

' ' Sepresentative of the People. " \ 



The article in the National was much in 
the same strain: 

"Our surmises were incorrect. The Court 
of Assizes has just sentenced M. Charles Hugo 
to six inonths' imprisonment and a fine of 
500 francs. We must respect the judgment, 
though it surprises us and grieves us. We 
are sure that it will be received with sorrow 
by the whole of the press. 

"M. Charles Hugo is the youngest of the- 
editors of L'^enement; he fights under the 
banner of the Republic with the generous- 
and passionate ardor that enthusiastic con- 
victions ever impart; and although in his- 
criticism of a penalty prescribed by our law 
he has employed language so strong that 
it has entailed condemnation, yet no one can 
doubt the loyalty of his intentions, or ques- 
tion the end that he desired to attain. 

"M. Victor Hugo pleaded his son's cause 
with wonderful eloquence, and his defence- 
will rank among his finest efforts, both for 
the loftiness of its sentiments and the brill- 
iancy of its style. That eloquence, however, 
was foiled by the verdict of the jury: and al- 
though it is our rule never to protest against 
the decision of justice, we may be permitted 
to offer to L'Evenement an expression of sym- 
pathy, assured that our sentiments are only 
in accordance with those of all republicans 
towards a journal that serves the cause of 
democracy with so much talent and courage. 

"ThEOD. PBLIiOQUBT." 

To these might be added the notices in Le 
Steele, Le Charivari, La Gazette de Sh-ance, 
La BSpublique, and Le Messager de I'Assem- 
bUe, which were aU very much in the same 
strain. 

It might well be supposed that the repub- 
licans who thus protested against the guillo- 
tine at the risk of their liberty would no 
longer be called drinkers of blood; neverthe- 
less, the accusation continued to be laid to- 
their charge. The populace, however, greet- 
ed Victor Hugo with loud applause as he 
left the court, and cheered him all the way 
to his carriage. 

Nor did the poet, throughout his years of 
exile, ever discontinue his pleading for the 
condemned; and it has been remarked that it 
was touching to see how the opponents of 
the guillotine turned to the rocks of Jersey 
and Guernsey to seek co-operation from the 
hand that had already shaken the scaffold, 
and will ultimately overturn it. 

Before Victor Hugo left Jersey, sentence- 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



307 



of death had, in 1854, been pronounced in 
Guernsey upon a criminal named Tapner. 
He had murdered a woman, and Victor Hugo 
sent a memorandum to the Guernsey people, 
stating that the magistrates must he allowed 
the credit of doing their duty according to 
the text of the code that they were bound to 
follow, and that they had simply discharged 
their obligations; at the same time, they were 
called upon to beware — they were practising 
retaUation. "Thou hast shed blood, and 
thine own blood shall be shed," in the esti- 
mate of human law was a righteous demand, 
but in the view of the divine law was alto- 
gether odious and intolerable. He begged 
the people to restrain themselves orderly 
within all legal bounds, but to keep up a 
peaceful agitation on the matter upon the 
popular mind and conscience. 

Three years before this, in 1851, a Jersey 
man, named Fouquet, had shot another man. 
Independent juries had condemned the mur- 
derer to death ; but while the execution was 
pending a great meeting had been held, at 
which the Frenchman spoke with great ef- 
fect; a petition was signed, and the queen 
commuted the sentence to transportation for 
life. Fouquet subsequently manifested so 
sincere a repentance that the governor of the 
jail in which he was confined urged a further 
remission of sentence. Mindful of this in- 
stance, Victor Hugo was now desirous that a 
similar course should be adopted in the case 
of Tapner. He did not deny that the man's 
crime demanded a long and solemn humil- 
iation, and that his chastisement should be 
severe; but he asked what good they ex- 
pected by driving a post into the ground, 
passing a rope round a man's neck, and 
wringing his life out of him, and whether 
they supposed that such a proceeding would 
set everything to rights. 

The address created no little sensation. 
Meetings were held, a petition was forwarded 
to the queen. Three several respites were 
granted, and it began to be believed that the 
execution would not take place, when sud- 
denly it transpired that M. "Walewski, the 
French ambassador, had had an interview 
with Lord Palmerston, and two days after- 
Virards an order arrived for Tapner to be 
hanged. 

Victor Hugo shortly afterwards wrote to 
Lord Palmerston, reminding him that three 
pardons had been granted in Jersey during 
the space of eight years, and asking why 
something of the same grace should not be 



displayed towards the people of Guernsey. 
The circumstances of Tapner's execution 
were exceedingly revolting, the operation 
having lasted more than twelve minutes ; 
and after describing the horrible details the 
poet continued his remonstrance to the Eng- 
lish Home Secretary in a strain the style of 
which the following extracts may serve as 
specimens : • 

"Both you and I occupy a sphere that is 
infinitely small. I am only an outlaw; you 
are merely a minister. I am ashes ; you are 
dust. What do you care about capital pun- 
ishment? For you to take a man's life is as 
easy as to drink a glass of water. But keep 
your nonchalance for the earth; do not offer 
it to eternity! Do not trifle over these un- 
seen mysteries, I am nearer to them than 
you are ! Exul sieut mortuus; and so I speak' 
to you from the sepulchre. ... ,-- ' 

"What do you care? A man is hanged, 
and there is a rope to be rolled up, a gaUows 
to take down, and a corpse to bury. And so 
something has been accomplished! But take 
care: that rope, that gallows, that corpse, aU 
belong to eternity. By the ordinance of so- 
ciety the murderer becomes the murdered; 
this is a terrible thought. From the beam of 
the gallows the thing that departs is an im- 
mortal soul; is not this an awful consid- 
eration? . 

" Yes; it is all keeping up the way of the 
past. Tunis keeps up the stake; the Czar 
maintains the knout; the Pope perpetuates 
the garrote; Asia and America have their 
slave -markets; France holds to the guillo- 
tine; and England still erects the gallows. 
But, beheve me, all these are doomed to dis- 
appear. . . . 

' ' And we have a message to deliver. You • 
call yourselves the ministers of justice and 
the preservers of right; you call us anar- 
chists, demagogues, and drinkers of blood. 
But I say we have something to teU you. 
We declare that human liberty is supreme, 
human intellect is holy, human life is sacred; 
nay, the human soul is divine ! 

' ' And now go on with your hanging !" 

Nor did Victor Hugo's exertions end here. 
In 1859 an execution, if not more terrible, 
certainly more unjustifiable, than most, took 
place in America, that of John Brown, a man 
of property, and one of the purest characters 
in the New World. 

The sufferings of the negro slaves in the 
Southern States had long excited Brown's 
sympathy, and he had satisfied himself that 



308 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



the fraternity inculcated by the Gospel 
ought to exist in something more than name. 
His life had been devoted to the abolition of 
slavery. As a white man he had braved 
every risk to procure the emancipation of 
the man of color, and, to use the expression 
of his widow, "his great heart suffered with 
the sufferings of the slaves." 

Bi addition to his public spirit, he had well- 
nigh every virtue of private hfe. In his 
struggles with the advocates of slavery he 
had lost two sons. He was ill-supported by 
the poor degraded and demoralized creatures 
in whose behalf he labored, and was at last 
worsted in a final engagement, which cost 
the lives of two more of his children. 
Covered with wounds, he was seized and 
dragged before an improvised tribunal of 
Virginian slave-owners, all thirsting with a 
savage desire for vengeance. His blood 
trickled over the mattress on which he was 
lying, and his prosecutors stood awaiting 
some sign of moral weakness; but he re- 
plied with the utmost calmness to all the 
questions that were put to him, and received 
the sentence of death with a smile. . 

It was reported in England that a respite 
had been granted. Immediately Victor Hugo 
put in his word. He addressed to the Ameri- 
can Republic a petition full of tender elo- 
quence, urging that all men are brethren, 
and concluding with one of those impas- 
sioned appeals for mercy which none can 
write so well. The letter made a deep sen- 
sation. 

"Beware," he said, "lest, even from a po- 
litical point of view, the execution of John 
Brown prove an irreparable error that may 
shake the whole American democracy. From 
a moral standpoint it looks as though a por- 
tion of the light of humanity is being eclipsed, 
and the distinction between justice and in- 
justice is being obscured. The day seems to 
have dawned when Liberty assassinates De- 
liverance ! 

"For myself, I know that I am but an 
atom; but yet I have a human conscience, 
and, urged by that, I kneel before the banner 
of the Stars and Stripes and implore the illus- 
trious republic of America to preserve the 
sanctity of the universal moral law ; I plead 
with it to save the threatened life of this 
John Brown ; to take down the scaffold, and 
not to permit before its very eyes, I might 
almost say by its own fault, the perpetration 
of a crime odious as the first sad fratricide. 
Ay, let America be aware that more terrible 



than Cain slaying Abel would be "Washington 
killing Spartacus." 

The Northern States were roused; various 
manifestations took place in the towns, and 
religious services were held. But the State 
of Virginia accomplished its crime, and 
Brown was led to the gallows by "Wilkes 
Booth, the future assassin of President Lin- 
coln. 

For the American martyr Victor Hugo 
suggested the epitaph — 

"Pro Christo, aiciit Chvistns." 

The prophecy he had delivered did not wait 
long for its accompUshment. In two years 
the American Union became out of joint, 
and the atrocious war between North and 
South had broken out. The blood of John 
Brown had not been shed without entailing 
its consequences. 

Again, in another quarter, Victor Hugo 
laid himself out to promulgate his views. 
In 1863, when the republic of Grcneva was 
revising its Constitution, and its Constituent 
Assembly had carried a motion for the re- 
tention of capital punishment, which only 
awaited the ratification of the people, a num- 
ber of the advanced republicans wrote to the 
poet, as a known advocate of the abolition of 
the barbarity, and entreated his intervention. 

"You ask my aid," he promptly replied; 
"I am at your service. The question is of 
capital punishment. I can only wonder when 
this gloomy rock of Sisyphus will cease to 
come rolling down on human society? "When 
shall we begin to substitute Instruction for 
Penalty? 

"Retaliation; eye for eye, and tooth for 
tooth: this seems to be about the sum and 
substance of our penal code. When will 
Vengeance cease to impose upon us by palm- 
ing herself off on our judgments as righteous 
Prosecution? "When will Felony leave off 
boasting to be proper State Business? It is 
just the same as when Fratricide puts on 
epaulets and calls itself "War. 

" What right has man to make God a judge 
before his own time ? If a man be a believer, 
how can he cast an immortal soul into eter- 
nity? If he be an infidel, how can he cast a 
living being into annihilation?" 

After the publication of this letter, the 
people of Geneva, in spite of the opposition 
of the Catholic party, carried their measure 
for the abolition of the punishment of death, 
so that for once Victor Hugo rejoiced in hav- 
ing gained his cause. 



VICTOR IlUaO AND HIS TIME. 



20'J 



Some time afterwards he again raised bis 
voice iu belialt of a woman named llosalie 
Doiso, wlio liad iieen falsely accused of par- 
ricide, ami, notwithstanding her innocence, 
had been eoudcmued to hard labor for 
life. 



In 1867 he received the following letter 
from a Portuguese nolileman: 

" llumanily has scored a splendid victory. 
Your voice, ever lo be heard where there is 
a great jirinciple to di'fend or a grand idea 
to be advanced, has rcaeheil us here; it has 




JOIIN BKOWK. 



In 186.5 he supported the Central lUdian 
Committee for the abolition of capital pun- 
ishment. 

In 1866 he entered a protest against Brad- 
ley's execution in Jersey. 
14 



spoken to our hearts ; it has ))econie among us 
a reality. Both Cliambers of our Parliament 
have recorded their votes that capital punish- 
ment shall Ije erased from our statute-book." 
Don Luiz, the 3'oung king of Portugal, had 



210 



VIC TOM HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



signed the bill just before starting for the 
Paris Exhibition. 

The victory was regarded by Victor Hugo 
as a certain triumpli of civilization, and a no- 
ble stride in the progress of humanity. 

Subsequently to this, wlien Bazaine was 
condemned to death, he was not executed, 
whence it was concluded that capital punish- 
ment was done away with in the army. Ac- 
cording to Victor Hugo's view, the court- 
martial, by first declaring Bazaine, as a mur- 
derer of his country, to be worthj' of death, 
and then deciding that lie should not die, 
gave its judgment to the effect that henceforth 
neither treason nor desertion, nor parricide 
nor matricide (for murder of one's country is 
equivalent to murder of one's mother), should 



be punishable by death, and he held that the 
conclusion was logical enough. And it was 
owing to this argument that in 1875 a court- 
martial spared the life of a soldier named 
Blanc, who had been condemned to be shot 
at Aix. It was tlie pamphlet "Pour un 
Soldat " that saved the culprit's life. 

On several different occasions M. Thiers 
granted various commutations of punish- 
ment entirely through Victor Hugo's inter- 
vention. 

It has been the poet's intention to issue a 
worlv entitled "Le Dossier de la Peine de 
Mort;" for such a book he would only have 
to collect the materials that are already pre- 
pared. We have here already summarized 
the principal points that it would embrace. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



211 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

The People of Jersey Atone for the Pnst — A Marriage Births.— Tour in Zealand Incognita of No 

Avail.— From Antwerp to Middelburg.— Dutch Hospitality Au Oviitiou Return to Belgian! "Les 

Chansons des Rues et des Boie."— Victor Hugo a Musician "Les Travailleurs de la Mer,"— "L'Honime 

qui Eit." 



Bepoee long the period of exile was to 
come to an end. It only remains for us to 
mention the chief incidents of that epoch in 
the poet's life. 

In the place that he had first chosen as his 
asylum, he was to receive an acknowledg- 
ment of his uncompromising fidelity to the 
service of liberty. On the 18th of May, 1860, 
the walls were placarded with the announce- 
ment that Victor Hugo had arrived in Jersey. 
He had, in fact, returned for a single day at 
the request of about 500 of the inhabitants, 
who had invited him bacli to the island from 
which he had been expelled, in order that he 
might make a speech in behalf of the sub- 
scription that was being raised to assist Gari- 
baldi in the liberation of Italy. 

It was not in Victor Hugo's nature to re- 
fuse to mount any platform that was reared 
in support of liberty. In the presence of an 
immense audience, that was thrilled by every 
word he uttered, he gave a vivid picture of 
Italy in her thraldom. It was a proud re- 
turn for the outlaw to make to those who 
had driven him from their shores, to plead 
among them the sacred cause of freedom and 
independence. 

With all his poetic power of prophecy he 
solemnly avowed his conviction that the 
hour was drawing nigh when, thanks to Gar- 
ibaldi, and to the assistance of Prance and 
England, Italy would rise from her death- 
slumber, and wake to life again, a great and 
glorious nation. Never is it hkely that Italy 
will forget this intervention, nor be unmind- 
ful of the blood of France that was spilled in 
vindicating her rights. 

On this occasion the attitude of the people 
of Jersey was greatly to their credit. The 
people had been deceived, and they now had 
a welcome to offer to the man whom they 
felt that all along they would have done well 
to protect. In doing what they could to ac- 
knowledge the error of the past, they did 
welL 



New domestic pleasures were now await- 
ing the exile. In 1866 his son Charles, in 
Brussels, married a graceful girl, Jules Si- 
mon's ward, and in the following year Victor 
Hugo became a grandfather. He greeted 
his little grandson's birth in a characteristic 
letter: 

" HAUTEVILT.E HouBE, April 3, 1867. 

" Geoegbs, — Be born to duty, grow up for 
liberty, live for progress, die in light! 

"Bear in thy veins the gentleness of thy 
mother, the nobleness of thy father. Be 
good, be brave, be just, be honorable ! With 
thy grandmother's kiss, receive thy grandfa- 
ther's blessing. " 

But the little infant was not destined to 
live long in the land of his father's banish- 
ment. He died when he was just a year old. 
Fate, however, alternately cruel and gentle, 
was reserving consolation for the poet's old- 
age. Another Georges was born, not to blot 
out the remembrance of the first-bom, but to 
grow up in his place; and in course of time 
a sister, little Jeanne, was added to the family. 
These two young folks are now the grand- 
sire's joy and pride. They have inspired the 
composition of one of the most touching of 
his works, a book of which we shall have to 
speak hereafter. 

Shortly after his son's marriage Victor 
Hugo made a tour in Zealand, which has 
been described with much grace and pleasant 
wit in a book written by Charles Hugo, but 
published anonymously under the title " Vic- 
tor Hugo en Zelande." 

While certain journals announced that the 
poet was in Paris and others reported him to 
be in Geneva, he was really on a pleasure ex- 
cursion in Zealand with his two sons and a 
party of friends. He had started with the 
intention of preserving a strict incognito, as 
he was anxious to avoid the ceremonious re- 
ceptions which he was aware his renown 
might cause to be given him ; and nowhere, 



213 



VICTOR HUGO AND EI8 TIME. 



he thought, could he travel in greater privacy 
than in Zealand. But on arriving at Ant- 
werp, where they intended to embark, he 
was recognized by the chambermaid of the 
hotel, who communicated her discovery, so 
that it came to the ears of the captain of the 
steamer. He accordingly treated his passen- 
gers with much consideration ; and when 
the Telegraaf arrived at its destination they 
found a comfortable carriage awaiting them, 
placed at their own disposal. Ineognito, of 
course, was henceforth out of the question; 
and, as Charles Hugo puts it, Victor Hugo 
had come to discover Zealand, but Zealand 
had discovered him instead. 

Although the various ovations on the route 
were somewhat irksome, the trip, on the 
whole, was enjoyable. The poet was de- 
lighted with everything he saw, being es- 
pecially struck by the cleanliness of the 
towns. At every stage of his journey from 
Antwerp to Middelburg, hospitality was 
pressed upon him, and the principal resi- 
dents vied with each other in soliciting 
the honor of entertaining so renowned a 
guest. 

The tourists received an unexpected addi- 
tion to their party through meeting acciden- 
tally at a hotel with a brother of Stevens the 
painter, and they met with a touching inci- 
dent at Zierkzee. On alighting from his 
char-a-bancs, Victor Hugo found himself sur- 
rounded by all the municipal authorities; and 
two little girls, dressed in white, came for- 
ward and presented him with splendid bou- 
quets. 

Many agreeable circumstances enlivened 
the journey, and the travellers found a va- 
riety of things to interest them. The quaint 
architecture particularly attracted Victor 
Hugo's attention, and nothing delighted him 
more than to ascend to the top of the high 
towers that are of frequent occurrence. On 
one of these occasions some workmen who 
were engaged at the basement followed him 
to the summit, a height of 378 feet, to offer 
him their greetings. 

So wearisome did the public homage be- 
come that Charles Hugo quite pitied his fa- 
ther, calling him the " Jean Valjean of glory." 
At one town after another the inhabitants 
made a point of putting on their best clothes 
and decorating their houses with banners; 
and, on finally quitting Dordrecht to return, 
the steamship, the Telegraaf, at a given sig- 
nal was enveloped in a cloud of colored 
bunting, surmounted by the flag of France, 



the captain saying that they could not do 
less than treat him as if he were a king. 

Of all the homage he received, none grati- 
fied him so much as what was ofEered by the 
simple and the poor; and he came across 
several ministers who told him that they 
should be ready to read some parts of "Les 
Miserables " from their pulpits, and that they 
had actually put it into the hands of their 
school-children. 

After his return from Zealand, Victor Hugo 
spent the summer in Belgium, in the pretty 
valley of Chaudfontaine, where he put the 
finishing touch to several of the later works 
of his exile. 

Of these we may here make a brief notice. 

" Les Chansons des Rues et des Bois " had 
appeared in 1865. The barrenness of the 
Muse of the Second Empire was quite de- 
plorable, and it seemed tiine to the poet that 
his voice should be heard. After being the 
Benvenuto Cellini, the Juvenal, and the Or- 
pheus of French literature, he would now 
come forward as a song-writer. Already he 
had exhibited his marvellous beauty of style. 
He had created and animated a new world; 
he had given humanity new laws. He would 
now sing of things of comparatively less im- 
portance, paiilo minora ; nevertheless, from 
the first page to the last of these harmonious 
strophes we find the poem of man's youth 
alternating with the poem of his wisdom. 

The reception given to the "Chansons " at 
first was not altogether encouraging. The 
reviewers, always ready to gTatity the ill-wiU 
of the emperor, made a point of pronouncing 
the book to be an inferior production; and, 
in spite of its attractive title, it did not meet 
with favor from the imperial Zoileans. But 
it may be said to be just what was wanting 
to complete the master's glory. He exhibits 
himself under a new aspect. In an infinite 
variety of verse he describes the living off- 
spring of nature which is visible to poets 
alone, and he writes his melodies even as it 
were at the dictation of the woods and mead- 
ows themselves. 

Without abandoning the traditional Pega- 
sus, he has curbed it, and made it canter in 
the flowery fields of idyl; and all the poems 
are so arranged that their harmony may be 
fully grasped by any one who reads them in 
their orderly connection. Some of them are 
like flourishes of trumpets, some of them like 
whispers of love. For "Jeanne seule" and 
for others he describes " 1' Sternal petit Ro- 
man," introducing pictures of delightful 



VICTOR HUGO AND UIS TIME. 



213 



fresliness; he lingers over a bird's-nest and 
inhales the fragrance of the forest flower till 
he anticipates the time of peace, when wars 
shall he no more ; he dwells upon the thought 
that the same nature which teaches 3'oulh to 
love teaches man to do his duty; and he on- 



to say this of a man who never professed to 
have any musical bias at all, and in whose 
house Charles Monselet has observed that the 
complete works of Viennet were far more 
likely to be found than a pianoforte or any 
other musical instniment. It was Charles 




AN" OVATION. 



dows the noble oak with speech, and makes 
its mighty strength become the witness to the 
glory of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity. 

In every page of the book the author re- 
veals himself as having the soul of a true 
musician, however paradoxical it may appear 



Monselet, one of the most refined writers of 
our time, though not yet an Academician, 
who composed a good-humored parody upon 
Victor Hugo's production. He called it; 
" Une Chansonette des Rues et des Bois," of 
which he says, ' ' I did nut put my name to 



214 



VICTOR EUaO AND HIS TIME. 



it, but I have never denied being the author. " 
It viras he also who declared of Victor Hugo 
that he was really a great musician, and that 
he composed grand overtures, of which he 
cites one as an example : 

"Hark! how the how now trembles in the leadei-'s 
hand, 
Moves o'ei- the answeriug strings and stirs the 

waiting hand I 
The orchestra helow, concealed from carious eye, 
Wakes at the bidding and clangs out shrill reply. 
Just as in silent eve, whence th' unseen vineyard lies. 
The laughter of grape-gatherers takes us by sur- 
prise ; 
Then next the alto of the mellow Ante ascends, 
Like graceful capital in which a column ends j 
Next, rising, falling, sweeping through the air 

around. 
The scales first fill, then empty,all the vase of sound." 

These verses form a portion of a piece en- 
titled " Que la Musique date du Seizifeme 
SiScle," and Monselet asks whether it might 
not be signed by Herold or Kossini. 

Victor Hugo's musical temperament in- 
deed appears at every turn of Ms work. 
Putting aside his dramatic poem of "La 
Esmeralda," that was composed expressly for 
the opera, do not ' ' Ernani, " " Rigoletto, " and 
" Lucrezia Borgia " mark him out as well- 
nigh the first librettist of the century ? He 
has written romances that must be prized 
as gems, and " Les Chansons des Rues et des 
Bois" must be esteemed as a casket full of 
them. Certain couplets, too, introduced into 
"Les Miserables" will occur to the reader. 
Music must be allowed to be frequently in 
his thoughts, and there are some of his 
poems, the "Guitares," the "Autres Gui- 
tares," and some of the musical masses in the 
" Chansons," of which it might be said that 
Cherubini offers nothing better. 

The poems were succeeded in 1866 by an- 
other important work, " Les Travailleurs de 
la Mer." The author announced the com- 
pletion of this in a letter published in the 
newspapers. 

" My desire in these volumes has been to 
glorify work, will, devotion, and whatever 
makes man great. I have made it a point to 
demonstrate how the most insatiable abyss is 
the human heart, and what escapes the sea 
does not escape a woman." 

And in the book itself he wrote: 

"I dedicate this work to the rock of hospi- 
tality and liberty; to the corner of the old 
Norman country inhabited by the noble little 
people of the sea; to the Isle of Guernsey, 
rugged yet gentle, my refuge for the present, 
and probably my grave in the future!" 



In this marvellous story it was his aim to 
complete his study of the struggles of the 
human race. We are weighed down by a 
triple dvdyKt] — that is to say, by the fatal ne- 
cessity of dogmas, of laws, and of circum- 
stances. In "Notre Dame de Paris " he has 
denounced the first, in "Les Miserables" he 
has depicted the second, and he here proceeds 
to illustrate the third. He does not now 
bring forward the great agitations of history, 
nor the events of contemporary revolution; 
he gives a picture of the life of a seaboard 
people, and within a wild and majestic frame- 
work places at once a drama and an idyl. 

By its vigorous simplicity, by the severity 
of its style, by the sombre coloring that per- 
vades it, the book affords an admirable ex- 
ample of its author's power. As a lyrical 
poet he haunts the realms of light; as a 
dramatist he analyzes every sentiment of 
woe; and like a gifted painter he repro- 
duces the dazzling tints of the sea, the mys- 
terious hues of the subterranean vaults, and 
the movement of the boisterous waves. When 
he describes the combat between man and 
the brute forces of nature, he endows the in- • 
f uriated elements with a soul, investing them 
with the attributes of love, wrath, hypocrisy, 
and hatred, just as though they were ani- 
mate with human passions. 

But although the more these pages are 
studied the more they are to be admired, yet 
they had their detractors; there were plenty 
of critics to run them down, and they re- 
proached the author, for his power, though 
tliis was only as if they found fault with an 
eminence for making a man giddy, or as if they 
reproved a rock for being rugged. The fault- 
finders, moreover, discovered all kinds of 
grievances. The language was too idiomatic ; 
the author had used terms that no French 
dictionary warranted; nay, he had actually 
employed Guernsey words that betrayed a 
Celtic or Teutonic origin! The very char- 
acter of such criticism is its own condem- 
nation, and cannot be reprobated too severely. 

Three years after this, Victor Hugo, in 
1869, brought out another book which 
proved equally successful. He called it 
"L'Homme qui Rit." This work abounds 
with scenes of pathetic interest, but, like 
everything else that the author produced, it 
evoked a great deal of adverse criticism, not 
a few writers professing that they were un- 
able to comprehend it. But no criticism 
availed to check its sale. 

Parodies, of course, followed its appear- 




THE EXILE S ROCK IN GUERNSEY. 
{From a Photograph by Augnste Vacqucrie.) 



216 



VICTOR HUaO AND HIS TIMB. 



ance. Some of these were written in a good- 
liumored style, and bear their own witness 
to the impression that the original made; 
some, on the other hand, were rancorous and 
full of spleen. 

The book is a singular mixture of the 
horrible and the graceful. Victor Hugo de- 
lights in antithesis; and here in his favorite 
way he joins moral beauty to physical de- 



formity, and moral ugliness to physical grace. 
Gwynplaine the mountebank, and Josiane the 
duchess, have become immortal types of char- 
acter ; and though detraction may do its 
worst, the love -passages of Dea will never 
be effaced from the memory of those who 
read them. 

"L'Homme qui Rit " is another master- 
piece. 




'l'iiomme qui eit.' 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



217 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

Victor Hugo's Aamiration of Shakespeare.— The Paris Bxhibitiou of 1867.— "The Paris Guide "—The Ee- 
production of "Heriiaui."-"La Voix de Gueruesey. "-Letter to the Toung Poets—Literary Movement 
under tlie Secoud Empire.-Le Rappel.-Ue. Contributors.-A Mauifeslo.— Summary of the Works of 
the Exile. 



Among Victor Hugo's other works we 
must not omit to reclcon his magnificent es- 
say upon Shakespeare, a review which is as 
fine a tribute as has ever been offered to the 
immortal English dramatist. He had already 
associated himself with the festivities that 
had been observed in honor of the great 
bard, and had contributed his own meed of 
homage. 

In his study of Shakespeare he has mani- 
fested his veneration for the poet, who, like 
himself, had searched the depths of the hu- 
man heart; and he calls attention to the faith- 
ful translation of the plays that had been 
made by his son. 

The time was at hand when Victor Hugo's 
own dramas were to be the theme of general 
interest. 

The exhibition of 1867 was made the occa- 
sion of the publication of a large work upon 
Paris called " The Paris Guide." A number 
of eminent writers took part in the compila- 
tion of the volume, and Victor Hugo was 
commissioned to write a preface, or rather a 
conspectus of the whole. He performed his 
task in his own elegant style, every line 
sparkling 'as it were with the brilliancy of a 
sky-rocket. 

His contribution to the book made con- 
siderable sensation, but even this was soon 
outdone by a circumstance which procured 
him his proper honor, of which he had been 
defrauded so long. The first Empire had 
left literature in a state of absolute nudity, 
and the second had checked the magnificent 
flight it had taken since the restoration of 
1830 ; but, though a man may originate a 
coup d'etat, he may still be too weak to 
crush out genius. 

While the emperor in 1867 was displaying 
the embellishments of the capital and the 
glories of the Exhibition to his innumerable 
visitors, he felt the demand that existed for 
the production of new dramas. The man- 
agers of the theatres were utterly at a loss ; 



there was absolutely nothing for them to 
bring out in the way of novelties. At the 
best houses the sterility was absolutely de- 
pressing, while at the second-rate theatres no 
resource seemed to be left but the repetition 
of the sensational melodramas, with their 
trap-door tricks, and the introduction of half- 
naked women singing obscene songs utterly 
void of wit. Many of those heterogeneous 
visitors, however, were quite capable of form- 
ing a just judgment in dramatic matters, and, 
conscious of this, the Minister of Fine Arts 
ventured to point out to the emperor that the 
world would be making remarks upon the 
decay, and would be asking what had be- 
come of the literary talent of the nation. 

The Comedie Pranpaise had positively 
nothing in its repertory but what was uni- 
versally known, and nothing modern offered 
itself for its acceptance that was likely to at- 
tract the crowd. In the midst of the perplex- 
ity Victor Hugo's name began to be timidly 
whispered, and after very considerable hesi- 
tation it was arranged that ' ' Hernani " 
should be brought out at the Theatre Pran- 
Qais, and " Ruy Bias " at the Odeon. 

A variety of circumstances that it would 
be tedious to relate long delayed the produc- 
tion of "Ruy Bias," but on the 30th of June 
"Hernani" was performed by a company 
worthy of the work; Delaunay took the part 
of Hernani, Bressant that of Don Carlos, 
Maubant that of Ruy Gomez, the r61e of 
Dona Sol being allotted to Mile. Pavart. 

Immense interest was taken in the repro- 
duction of the piece. More than 20,000 ap- 
plications were made for places at the first 
performance. Great importance was attrib- 
uted to the event; not only had the young 
men of letters (who of course knew all about 
the contUct of 1830) never had an opportuni- 
ty hitherto of seeing the piece, but there was 
a great probability that politics would be 
dragged into the affair. It appeared quite 
likely that a demonstration would be made 



218 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



against the political principles of the exiled 
author, about whose genius there could be 
no dispute. It is said that every precaution 
was taken to maintain order, and even that 
a certain number of troops was kept ready- 
to interfere in case of need. 

The public, when admitted, consisted of 
several sections. There wei'c numerous of- 
ficials ready to make opposition to any po- 
litical manifestation ; and there were not 
a few of those who had been present at 
the riotous performances in 1830, and were 
now prepared to applaud with all the vehe- 
mence of defiance, and applaud they did. 
But there were none to contend against them ; 
their old adversaries had disappeared, and 
in the new generation there was nobody who 
■could want to hiss verses such as had never 
been written since the days of Corneille. 

An eminent critic, M. Francisque Sarcey, 
who now admires Victor Hugo as much as 
he then depreciated him, after the first 
night's performance published a notice in 
which he pretended that the acclamations that 
greeted the piece had nothing voluntary in 
them, but were merely outbursts made at a 
preconcerted signal. And perhaps there 
was some ground for the suspicion, as on the 
opening night the house was to a very con- 
siderable extent filled with officials charged 
to maintain order. On the next night, how- 
ever, there could be no mistake; the theatre 
was crowded with an independent audience; 
the vociferous applause was entirely genu- 
ine, and for eighty nights afterwards the 
assembly listened with an admiration almost 
amounting to awe, yielding the tribute of 
their homage in a measure ample enough to 
realize the author's most ambitious dreams. 

A concourse of the young authors of the 
day, exulting in the grand success, lost no 
time in addressing the following letter to the 
poet: 

"Master most Deak and most Illus- 
trious, — We hail with enthusiastic delight 
the reproduction of 'Hernani.' 

"The fresh triumph of the greatest of 
French poets fills us with transport. The 
night of the 20th of June is an era in our 
existence. 

"Yet sorrow mingles with our joy. Your 
absence was felt by your associates of 1830; 
still more was it bewailed by us younger 
men, who never yet have shaken hands with 
the author of 'La Legende des SiScles.' At 
least, they cannot resist sending you this 



tribute of their regard and unbounded ad- 
miration. 
"Signed, 
" Sully Prudhomme, Armahd Silveb- 
TRE, Francjois Ooppbe, Georgbs 
Lapenestrb, Leon Valade, Leon 
DiBRx, Jean Aicaed, Paul Vbr- 
LAiNB, Albert Mbrat, Andre 
Thburebt, Armand Rbnaud, Louis 
Xavier db Ricard, H. Cazali, Er- 
nest d'Hbrvillt." 

This letter, thus signed by names many of 
which have since become famous, was at the 
time a token of courage as well as a grace- 
ful tribute. It was forwarded to Brussels, 
whence the poet sent back his reply: 

"Dear Poets, — The literary revolution 
of 1830 was the corollary of the revolution 
of 1789; it is the specialty of our century. 
I am the humble soldier of the advance. I 
fight for revolution in every form, literary 
as well as social. Liberty is my principle, 
progress my law, the ideal my type. 

" I ask you, my young brethren, to accept 
my acknowledgments. 

' ' At my time of life, the end — that is to say, 
the infinite — seems very near. The approach- 
ing hour of departure from this world leaves 
little time for other than serious meditations. 
But while I am thus preparing to depart, 
your eloquent letter is very precious to me; 
it makes me dream of being among you, and 
the illusion bears to the reality the sweet re- 
semblance of the sunset to the sunrise. You 
bid me welcome whUe I am making ready 
for a long farewell. 

"Thanks: I am absent because it is my 
duty. My resolution is not to be shaken ; but 
my heart is with you. 

" I am proud to have my name encircled 
by yours, which are to me a crown of stars. 
"Victor Hugo." 

The performance of "Hernani" was not 
authorized for long. Not content with hav- 
ing banished the man, the Emperor Napoleon 
III. could not rest without trying to banish 
his sentiments. Only at the end of his reign, 
and that after much difBculty, was he induced 
to tolerate the representation of "Lucrfece 
Borgia " at the Porte-Saint-Martin. This per- 
formance was a great success for Marie Lau- 
rent, and drew forth from Georges Sand a 
striking letter to Victor Hugo, in which she 
said: 



VIGTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



319 



"I was present thirty-seven years ago at 
the first representation of ' Lucrfice,' and I 
shed tears of grief; with a heart full of joy I 
leave the performance of this day. I still 
hear the acclamations of the crowd as they 
shout 'Vive Victor Hugol' as though you 
were really coming to hear them." 

Another poem of Victor Hugo's appeared 
In 1867. It was issued under the title " La 
Volx de Guernesey," Its object being to stig- 
matize the Mentana expedition, and to con- 
sole Garibaldi under the defeat which he had 
sustained from the Pope and his ally Bona- 
parte. In an apostrophe to Plus IX. the poet 
addressed him In the language of stem se- 
verity : 

"Ill-starred old maul to thee the ravenous vultures 
owe 
Their feast of skulls unearthed from scanty soil be- 
low 1 
Responsible art thou for ravens boding ill, 
Thy gloomy visions now the open tombs fulfil. 

•" The mitraillense hast thou invited ; and now see 
How that the dying owe their carnage all to thee I 
Go, say thy mass ; but first go wash thy crimson 

hand ; 
Thus stained with blood, how canst thou at the altar 
stand?" 

It may easily be imagined how such lan- 
guage stirred up the wrath of the clerical 
press, especially when it Is added that no less 
than seventeen translations of the poem, some 
of them in verse, appeared simultaneously in 
many languages. Garibaldi replied to Vic- 
tor Hugo In some French verses which he 
called "Mentana," thousands of copies of 
which crossed the frontier and found their 
way to Paris. Imperial Indignation was kin- 
dled, and not only was the performance of 
"Hernanl" stopped, but a letter was sent to 
the poet In Guernsey: 

" The manager of the imperial TheStre de 
rOdeon has the honor to Inform M.Victor 
Hugo that the reproduction of ' Ruy Bias ' 
is forbidden. Chilly." 

Victor Hugo at once replied, directing his 
answer not to the Thefttre de I'Odeon, but to 
the Tuileries : 

" To M. Louis Bonaparte: 

' ' Sm,— It is you that I hold responsible for 
the letter which I have just received signed 
' Chilly. ' Victor Hugo. " 

The document really reached its destina- 
tion. Many letters despatched by the poet 



had not the same good-fortune ; most of them 
were read upon passing the frontier, and not 
a few of them were confiscated. It was in 
vain that he availed himself of Art. 187 In 
the Penal Code, and wrote upon his enve- 
lopes "On private affairs only;" the secret 
ofiicers of the government did not hesitate to 
unseal and examine all his communications. 
Doubtless they thought that they had ample 
warrant for their proceedings ; they were well 
aware that between him and his correspond- 
ents mutual pledges in behalf of liberty were 
continually being exchanged, and that the 
young men of the rising generation, in their 
aspirations for freedom, were being fortified 
and encouraged by the advice and counsel of 
the exile. 

For himself, not unhappy in the present, 
and hopeful for the future, he waited on. 
He rejected the amnesty of 1859, and volun- 
tarily remained in his expatriation; he held 
to the doctrine that the guilty have no right 
to offer pardon to the innocent, even as it is 
not the place of an executioner to provide 
a respite for a criminal. With still greater 
decision did he scorn the proffered amnesty 
of 1869 : he had already placed his vow on rec- 
ord that he would never again visit the land 
which was "the resting-place of his ancestors 
and the birthplace of his love," until liberty 
had been restored to her; he had vowed that 
he must enter France in company with right, 
or he would not enter at all. To these vows 
he was never for a moment untrue. 

Notwithstanding his compulsory absence 
from his country, his activity in political 
matters remained very considerable, and be- 
came still more so when Le Bappel was start- 
ed on the 4th of May, 1869. It was the eve 
of the general election, and In order to con- 
tinue the battle that had been commenced by. 
Rochefort in La Lanterne it was considered 
necessary to establish a paper of suflacient 
power to be a telling organ with the democ- 
racy and to Influence the popular vote. To 
render such an enterprise a success, it was in- 
dispensable that the services of men of tried 
courage and of known reputation should be 
secured. Just the men for the task were the 
old staff of L' tenement, and they were ready 
enough to undertake the responsibility and 
to fight to the very end. Thus it came about 
that the new j ournal was committed to Charles 
and Franpois Hugo, Auguste Vacquerie, and 
Paul Meurice. They were subsequently 
joined by Rochefort, than whom no one had 
been more successful, by the brilliancy of his 



230 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



epigrams, in assaulting the outworljs of tlie 
citadel of the Empire. 

The characters of Charles and Francois 
Hugo have been already indicated, and we 



poet has rendered them the high praise they 
have deserved, professing himself proud of 
their friendship, their integrity, and their 
talent ; he has dedicated verses to them. 




I'AI'L MEURICE. 



shall have further occasion to refer to Iheiii 
magnanimity; something, moreover, has been 
said of Victor Hugo's two faithful friends, 
Vacqucric and Meuricc. Many a time the 



consoling them when assailed with slander, 
and encouraging them when called upon to 
submit to sacrifice. It has been through dif- 
ficulty, but their way has led them to honor. 



VIGTOB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



231 



Paul Meurice is one of our great masters 
in tlif art of writing. All his worlds, liis ro- 
mances and his dramas, marli him out as a 
first-rate author; his ideas are as original as 
they are intellectual, while the united strength 
and simplicity of his style, the clearness and 
taste of his composition, his grace of manner 
and lionesty of purpose, cannot fail to raise 



returned to Paris, and, without ceasing to be 
both poet and ai-tist, devoted himself to the 
office of Journalist, in which he has not many 
sui)eriors. For ten yeai's, day after day, he 
has produced articles, written upon the spur 
of the moment, that have invariablj' been re- 
markable for vigor and good ■ sense, inflexi- 
ble in principle, and energetic in defence of 




AUGUSTE VACQUEKIE. 



him to a high pedestal among the literary 
worthies of the century. 

Auguste Vacquerie is also an original char- 
acter, and his name, like that of his friend 
and brother-in-arms, is synonymous with tal- 
ent, uprightness, and energy. He has faith 
in art and he has faith in the Republic,which 
nothing can shake. After having long been 
an exiie by his own choice, he foresaw that 
the day of liberty was about to return; he 



right. His work may well deserve the re- 
spect of posterity. 

Under such an editorship as this, it was 
only to be expected that Lc liappel would 
prove an unprecedented success. Foresee- 
ing the reception it would undoubtedly com- 
mand, the imperial authorities forbade its 
sale in the public thoroughfares; but in spite 
of the prohibition it is said that 180,000 copies 
were printed, and that all the presses at the 



322 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



disposal of the journal were quite inadequate 
to meet the demands of the population, pur- 
chasers frequently lighting for the successive 
editions. 

For those weary of servitude or worn out 
with degradation, Le Sappel beat the call of 
honor. 

As a contribution to the opening number, 
Victor Hugo wrote a manifesto consisting of 
an address to the five co-editors : 

"Lb Eappbl. 

"It is a call. I love the word in every 
sense. It is the call to principle by con- 
science; the call to truth by philosophy; the 
call to duty by right ; the call to the dead by 
reverence; the caUto punishment by equity; 
the call to the past by history; the call to the 
future by logic ; the call to action by courage ; 
the call to idealism by thought ; the call to 
science by experiment ; the call to God in re- 
ligion by the extirpation of idolatry; the call 
to the people's sovereignty by universal suf- 
frage; the call to humanity by free educa- 
tion; the call to liberty by the awakening of 
France and by the stirring cry ' Mat jus !' 

"You say, this is our task! I say, this is 
your work!" 

The circumstances of the poet did not per- 
mit him to take any share in the daily labor, 
but his heart was ever with those who con- 
tinued the struggle, and who were reinforced 
by the assistance of Arthur Arnould, Jules 
Claretie, and by a pleiad of young authors 
of decided merit. The paper had to undergo 
repeated prosecutions, the detailed account 
of which would be superfluous, but it stood 
its ground triumphing over all opposition. 
It did a good work in enlightening the minds 
of many, especially of the young, and there 
are few who are not aware what good service 
was done by Le Bappel in hastening forward 
the day of justice to the nation. 

In 1870, Napoleon had begun to feel the 
ground sensibly trembling under his feet, 
and devised the scheme of shoring up his 
tottering throne by a plebiscite. Consulted 
about this proposal for a pleMseite,'Victov 
Hugo gave it a most outspoken negative, and 
proceeded to deliver his reasons in a vigor- 
ous article in the paper. He asked why the 
people should be invited to vote for the com- 
pletion of a crime ; he declared that the scheme 
should be treated with all the contempt it 
deserved, concluding what he wrote with this 
outburst of his indignation: 



" While the author of the coup d'etat wants: 
to put a question to the people, we would ask 
him to put this question to himself : ' Ought I, 
Napoleon, to quit the Tuileries for the Con- 
ciergerie and to put myself at the disposal of 
justice?' 

" ' Yes!' ViCTOii Hugo." 

Immediately the journal was prosecuted 
and the law-courts passed judgment against 
the author of the article. But these reverses 
were the harbinger of better days. 

Perhaps we may be allowed to pause here 
awhile and make a general resume of the 
poet's political action during the prolonged 
period of his exile. And this can hardly be 
given more completely than in the words 
in which Auguste Vacquerie has made his 
retrospect of the time: 

"How far Victor Hugo has fulfilled his 
duty, and to what extent he has acted up to ■ 
the spirit of the immortal verse 

" 'Though only one remain, that one shall be mys'elf,' 

is universally known. 

' ' From every quarter he received perpetual 
appeals. The bereaved sought him out to 
speak at the grave-side of the dear ones they 
had lost, and he delivered funeral orations 
over Jean Bousquet, Louise Julien, and 
Felix Bany; he was urged to use his pen in 
condemnation of the gallows, and he wrote 
remonstrances against the execution of 
Tapner and of Bradley, and he eulogized 
John Brown as the great deliverer of the 
blacks. 

"By an emperor expatriated, for an em- 
peror he entreated pardon — Juarez. He 
responded to the appeal of the people of 
Crete. He denounced the suppression of the 
revolt in Cuba as brutal, and he took up the 
petition of the three hundred women who 
had fled to New York for refuge. He was 
invited to Lausanne to preside at the Peace 
Congress. To him it was that Ireland 
turned with supplications that he would 
take up the defence of the convicted Fe- 
nians. 

" Not one of these appeals did he reject. 

' ' And this by no means represented all his 
work. Amid his labors he gave to an ad- 
miring world 'Napol§on le Petit,' 'Les Cha- 
timents,' 'Les Contemplations,' 'LaLegende 
des SiScles, ' ' Les Chansons des Eues et des 
Bois,' 'Shakespeare,' ' Les Travailleurs de la 
Mer,' 'Les Miserables,' and 'L'Homme qui 
Rit.' 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



333- 



"One thing, too, there is worthy of all note. 
Throughout these nineteen years of incessant 
struggle, this duel with the Empire, this hand- 
to-hand conflict with tyranny in every shape, 
Victor Hugo remained uniformly calm and 
placid. 

" Expelled from France for defending the 
rights of the people, driven from Brussels as 
the result of publishing ' Napoleon le Petit, ' 
"banished from Jersey because he had written 
' Les Chatiments, ' he nevertheless was as full 



of spirits in Guernsey, at last, as ever he had 
been in Paris. 

' ' He lived among his family, finding in his 
wife a noble consoler of his exile, until she 
died, in 1868. 

"Other sorrows came to overcloud the 
career of the illustrious poet, and he had ere 
long to shed more bitter tears of grief; but 
at length the hour for which he had been 
waiting — the hour of justice — drew near, and 
finally arrived." 




234 



VICTOR HUOO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXX. 

Return to France.— Distressing Journey.— Popular Ovation on Arrival. — Tlie Siege.— A Cry for Peace.— 
A Cry for War. — Public Performauces.— Proceeds Purchasing Cannon. —Strange Diet. — Improvised 
Verses.- Walks on the Kamparts.- Victor Hugo's Admiration of the People of Paris. 



The plebiscite was destined to lead France 
to Sedan. There had been a promise of 
"peace." but it had only led to war, and 
consequently to the dismemberment of the 
Empire — the result inevitable under such a 
government as that which dated from the 2d 
of December. 

At the first news of the disaster of 1870 
Victor Hugo left Hauteville House and has- 
tened to Brussels, in order that he might be 
as near as possible to his country in the try- 
ing hour of her distress. 

The capitulation of Sedan soon came, and 
with it the revolution of the 4th of Septem- 
ber. On the 5th the poet re-entered Prance. 
On reaching Landrecies, the first scene that 
met his eyes was one of rout and disorder. 
Soldiers, faint and weary, and fugitives more 
than half starved, were holding out their 
hands for a morsel of bread. In the pres- 
ence of the great disaster, whereby the whole 
French army seemed vanquished and dis- 
persed, tears rolled down his cheeks, and his 
whole frame cfuivered with sobs. He bought 
up all the bread that could be procured, and 
distributed it among the famished troops. 

His companion on this mournful journey 
was M. Jules Claretie, a man of good family, 
and a writer of no inconsiderable renown. 
It will be well for us to allow him to tell the 
story in his own touching words. He writes : 

"On Monday, the 5th of September, the 
day alter the fall of the Empire, Victor Hugo, 
then staying in the Place des Bamcades in 
Brussels, presented himself at the railway 
booking-office, and, with an emotion in his 
voice that he in vain tried to suppress, asked 
for a ticket to Paris. 

"I see him still. I had left the battle- 
field of Sedan and gone to Brustiels, where I 
had spent the anxious day of the 4th in fe- 
verish suspense, rushing alternately to the 
post and telegraph ofiices. In the evening 
the news arrived that the Republic had been 
proclaimed in Paris. Immediately it was 
arranged that Victor Hugo should start on 



the following day. A voluntary exile from 
France since the amnesty, he had remained 
faithful to his vow, twice repeated, first in 
'Les OhStiments,' then in his letter, '"When 
liberty returns, I will return. ' 

"France had now recovered herself, and 
it was no longer her liberty that was threat- 
ened, but her independence. Victor Hugo 
felt himself entitled to go back to Paris when 
Paris was besieged. It was my own privi- 
lege to accompany him on his journey, every 
detail of which has fastened itself upon my 
memory. The story of that day has become 
a page of history. 

"Wearing a soft felt hat and carrying a 
small leather travelling-bag fastened across 
his shoulders by a strap, Victor Hugo, pale 
with excitement, looked instinctively at his 
watch as he pressed forward to get his ticket. 
It seemed as if he must be taking note of the 
precise moment when his exile was to come 
to an end. 

"Truly a long time had passed (nineteen 
years I) since the day when he had been 
forced to leave Paris, which was over- 
whelmed by his genius, and to surrender 
everything that seemed to make up his life 
— his home, his books, his pictures, and his 
furniture; the day on which he had been 
torn from the pages he was writing, and of 
which the ink was not yet dry: yes, nineteen 
years had now elapsed. 

' ' But it was all over ! The time had come 
when once more he was to say, 'Here is 
France!' 

" ' A ticket for Paris!' he exclaimed, in a 
tone that seemed to me to ring like the note 
of a clarion. 

"On the platform some faithful friends 
were waiting to see him off. One of these — 
the good Camille Berru, who has been de- 
scribed by Charles Hugo in ' Les Hommes de 
I'Exil' — was overpowered by grief because 
he was unable to accompany a man he loved 
so earnestly. 

" The train started. Victor Hugo was 



VICTOR HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



235 



seated opposite to myself and M. Antoine 
Prfivost. He gazed through the window, 
his eye fixed steadily on the horizon. He 
was manifestly watching for the moment 
when the frontier should he crossed, and 
once again his eyes should feast upon the 
meadows, the trees, the soU, the sky, of his 
own country. I shall never forget the ex- 
pression that passed over his features. He 
was now sixty- eight. His head was whit- 
ened by his years of exile, but the glow of 
animation that was shed over his counte- 
nance as he first caught sight of a French 
soldier can never be obliterated from my 
recollection. 

"This occurred at Landrecies. Making 
good their retreat from MeziSres, on their 
way to Paris, the remnant of Vinoy's corps, 
poor harassed creatures, covered with dust 
and discolored with powder, pale with exer- 
tion and discouragement, were lying all along 
the road. Close behind them were the Uh- 
lans. There was no alternative for them but 
flight if they would escape the disaster that 
had befallen the army at Sedan. Defeat was 
written in their faces, demoraUzation was evi- 
dent in their attitude; they were dejected 
and dirty; they were like pebbles driven 
along by a hurricane. But what of that? 
Anyhow, they were soldiers of France; their 
uniform proclaimed their nationality; they 
wore the blue tunic and the red trousers, but, 
what was of infinitely greater consequence, 
they were carrying their colors back with 
them. Their defeat did not prevent them 
bringing back the tricolor safe and sound. 
Great tears rolled from Victor Hugo's eyes. 
He leaned from the carriage window, and, 
with a voice thrilling in its earnestness, he 
kept shouting, ' Vive la France ! vive I'armee ! 
vive lapatrie!' 

" Exhausted as they were with hunger and 
fatigue, the bewildered soldiers looked up. 
They scarcely comprehended what he said, 
but he continued his shouting, and it was al- 
most like an order of quick-march to them 
all when they made out that they were being 
assm-ed that they had done their duty, and 
that it was by no fault of theirs that they 
had sustained defeat. 

" And so the train went on. The tears 
stUl lost themselves in Victor Hugo's snowy 
beard. He had lived in the proud illusion 
that France was invincible ; he was a soldier's 
son, and could not conceive that the soldiers 
of his country were not pledged to glory. He 
had ever imagined them foremost and trium- 
15 



phant in the fight; but now his hopes were 
blighted, his anticipations had miscarried, 
and he could be heard sighing, ' Better, per- 
haps, never to have seen France again than 
to see her dismembered and divided, and re- 
duced to what she was in the days of Louis 

xni.' 

"It is more than ten years since, but that 
hinders me not from still seeing those tears of 
the poet trickling as though they were drops 
from a wound in the depth of his heart! 

"And may I not mention another incident 
of which I cannot be otherwise than proud? 
I gave him his first meal after he passed the 
frontier of his country on his homeward 
way. His arrival at Tergnier was expected; 
the refreshment-room was crowded; the com- 
missaire, with a bow, told him that he need- 
ed no passport, and we made our way to the 
buffet, at which there was little enough to be 
had. Then it was that I solicited the honor 
of presenting him with the first meal of 
which he partook after this long estrange- 
ment from his country; he accepted my 
offer, and we made a hasty repast off new 
bread, cheese, and wine. During the meal, 
I saw him slip into his pocket a fragment of 
the bread which he had been eating as his 
earliest refreshment in his newly recovered 
country. 

" ' I have that piece of bread still,' he has 
more than once said to me, when speaking of 
that frugal entertainment; ' Madame Drouet 
takes care of it for me. ' 

"Except that morsel of bread, I think he 
took nothing more that day; sorrow had 
parched his throat. 

"After we re-entered the train, the shades 
of evening began to gather, and for the rest 
of the journey Victor Hugo was thoughtful 
and silent. He broke the stillness by saying, 
' I should like to enter our imperilled city on 
foot and alone, like an unknown traveller. ' 

"Charles Hugo was travelling with us, 
but at the Northern Railway -station Fran- 
cois Hugo, Vacquerie, and Paul Meurice all 
rushed forward calling out, 'Vive Victor 
Hugo !' 

" 'Gently, gently!' cried a surgeon-major; 
' we have sonie wounded men here, ' and he 
pointed to some ambulance wagons that 
were smeared with blood. At a sign from 
Victor Hugo, his friends restrained their 
vociferations, but outside the station an 
enormous crowd was awaiting him, and no 
sooner was he recognized than he was 
triumphantly carried off. 



236 



VICT OB HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



"Through the midst of the vast populace 
I followed with my gaze. I looked with ad- 
miration on that man now advancing in 
years, but faithful still in vindicating right, 
and never now do I hehold him greeted with 
the salutations of a grateful jDeople without 
recalling the scene of that memorable night 
when, with weeping eye, he returned to see 
his country as she lay soiled and dishonored, 
and well-nigh dead ! 

"With reference to that day, Victor Hugo 
has written to me, saying, 'You are still 
young, but nevertheless to me you are an old 
friend ; we have mutual recollections of my 
return to France. ' " 

To these pathetic reminiscences of Claretie 
we may add a few lines from Alphouse Dau- 
det, who has chronicled the same event: 

"He arrived just as the circle of invest- 
ment was closing in around the city; he 
came by the last ti'ain, bringing with him 
the last breath of the air of freedom. He 
had come to be a guardian of Paris; and 
what an ovation was that which he received 
outside the station from those tumultuous 
throngs, already revolutionized, who were 
prepared to do great things, and were infi- 
nitely more rejoiced at the liberty they had 
regained than terrified by the cannon that 
were thundering against their ramparts! 
Never can we forget the spectacle as the car- 
riage passed along the Rue Lafayette, Victor 
Hugo standing up, and being literally borne 
along by the teeming multitudes. " 

It was ten o'clock at night when the train 
arrived. The poet had chosen to reach his 
destination at this late hour, expecting that 
he should make his entry into the capital in 
quiet and unobserved privacy ; but the 
crowds that filled the neighborhood of the 
station and the adjacent streets had waited 
for hours to give their welcome to the great 
citizen who had been so long the champion 
of their rights and liberty. 

All Paris was eager not only to see but to 
hear Victor Hugo, who, in acknowledgment 
of his enthusiastic reception, delivered a 
short speech. 

' ' "Words fail me, " he began, in a trembling 
voice, "and I am incapable of saying how 
much I am moved by the welcome which 
the generous people of Paris has pleased to 
extend me. Citizens, I have always said 
that when a Republic should return, I would 
return too. And here I am! 

"There are two things that call me now. 
The first is the Republic; the other is danger. 



I am here to do my duty; and my duty is the 
same as yours. Upon every one of us there 
now rests the same obligation. We must 
defend Paris and save it! 

"I thank you for your acclamations. 
But I attribute them all to your sense of the 
anguish that is rending all hearts, and to the 
peril that is threatening our land. 

' ' I have but one thing to demand of you. 
I invite you to union. By union you will 
conquer. Subdue all ill-will. Check all re- 
sentment. Be united, and you shall be in- 
vincible. Rally round the Republic. Hold 
fast, brother to brother. Victory is in our 
own keeping. Fraternity is the saviour of 
liberty!" 

Then, cheered continually along the whole 
route, he was conducted to No. 5 Avenue 
Frochot, the residence of his friend Paul 
Meurice, where he was to take up his abode. 
Here he again said a few words to the peo- 
ple, telling them that in that single hour 
they had compensated him for all his nine- 
teen years of exile. 

Throughout the siege the poet remained 
with Paul Meurice in an elegant suite of 
rooms on the ground-floor of a house that was 
enclosed by trees. At that time Madame 
Paul Meurice was alive. 

No home could be kinder than that in 
which the poet was received. He needed 
warm and faithful friends. He had never 
anticipated that it would be his fate to come 
back and find that the Imperial crime had 
been thus chastised by the invasion of a for- 
eign foe. 

To that country which he had ever loved 
so ardently, if he now brought nothing else, 
he brought noble advice. He came back to 
tell her how to resist and how to fight, and 
he was quite prepared to take his own share 
in her sufferings, her sorrows, and her strug- 
gles. 

Enough for him to know that Paris was 
besieged, and that accordingly Paris was 
the proper place for him. In spite of the 
giant army of Prussia, France had regained 
her liberty, and he was not going to let 
France die now, except he were to die with 
her. His children and grandchildren were 
with him; they had scorned the Empire, but 
the sorrow of the land should now win their 
love. The young men of the second Empire 
might, if they pleased, escape beyond the 
frontier, and get out of the reach of the 
Prussian bombs; his own place was at thfr 
post of danger; his own breast should lie 



VIOTOIi HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



237 



open as a target for the cannon that were 
levelled against the city of the world ! 

For some days after his return to Prance, 
the German army kept udvancing by forced 
marches to invest the capital. It occurred 
to him to ask himself whether there was not 
yet time to interpose his voice between two 



was circulated in both the French and Ger- 
man newspapers. 

" Germans !" he wrote, "he who now ad- 
dresses you speaks as a friend. It is but 
three years ago, at the time of the Exhibition 
of 1867, that I sent you my good wishes, 
and bade you welcome to your city. Yes, I 




MADAME PAUL METJRICB. 



contending nations, of which the victorious 
kept saying to the vanquished, "We are not 
making war against you, but only against 
your emperor. " Ought it not now to be that 
as the emperor had been set aside the strife 
should be brought to a close ? And, under 
this conviction, he issued an appeal, which 



say your city; for Paris belongs not to us 
alone ; it is yours as well as ours. You have, 
indeed, your capitals — Berlin, Dresden, Vi- 
enna, Munich, and Stuttgart; but Paris is 
your centre, and it is in Paris that men learn 
to live: it is the city of cities; it is the city 
of men. There has been an Athens, there 



VICTOR HUaO AND HIS TIME. 



has been a Rome; now there is a Paris, and 
Paris is a synonym for open hospitality. 

" And now you will come back to us again, 
but you come back as enemies! Whence 
this dire misunderstanding? "Why this in- 
vasion? What mean these savage efforts? 
What have we done? 

" This war does not proceed from us. It 
vyas the Empire that willed the war; it was 
the Empire that prosecuted it. But now the 
Jlmpire is dead, and a good thing too ! We 
Mve nothing to do with its corpse; it is all 
the past; we are the future. The Empire 
was hatred, we are sympathy; that was trea- 
son, we are loyalty. The Empire was Ca- 
pua, nay, it was Gomorrah; we are Prance. 
Our motto is 'Liberty, Equality, Fraternity;' 
on our banner we inscribe ' The United States 
of Europe.' Whence, then, this onslaught? 

"Pause a while before you present to the 
world the spectacle of Germans becoming 
Vandals, and of barbarism decapitating civil- 
ization. Victory wiU not be for your honor. 

"Persist, Germans, if you will; but re- 
member you are warned. Paris will defend 
herself. I am an old man now; I shall not 
bear arms, but I am satisfied to be on the 
side of the people who are slain; I pity you 
who are on the side of the rulers who slay." 

These were words of peace, but the Ger- 
man press only replied with cries of wrath 
and indignation. The manifesto was torn 
down and destroyed by the Prussian gen- 
erals, and one of the newspapers declared 
that the proper place for the author was on 
the gibbet, " HSngt den Dichter an den Mast 
auf." 

Meanwhile the enemy continued to ad- 
vance. The last resource for Paris seemed 
to be to make a general levy, and to issue a 
peremptory call to arms. Victor Hugo raised 
the war-cry: 

"Let every commune arouse itself! let 
every field take fire! let every forest be filled 
with a voice of thunder! Tocsin! tocsin! 
Let every house produce a soldier! let the 
faubourg become a regiment, the city be- 
come an army! The Prussians may be 
800,000 strong, but you are forty millions! 
Stand up and blow upon them I Lille, 
Nantes, Tours, Bourges, Orleans, Dijon, 
Toulouse, Bayonne, gird up your loins I Ly- 
ons, take your rifles! Rouen, draw your 
sword! Marseilles, sing your hymn! Cit- 
ies, cities, cities, make forests of pikes, inass 
together your bayonets, horse your cannon! 
Villages, bring out your pitchforks ! 



"What do you say? You have no pow- 
der? All a mistake; you have what you 
need. The Swiss peasants had but their 
hatchets; the Polish peasants had but their 
scythes; the Breton peasants had but their 
sticks; and yet they carried all before them. 
In a true cause everything helps. We are 
at home. The season will be ours; the 
north wind will be ours; the rain will be 
ours. War or disgrace ! Where there's a 
wUl, there's a way! A bad gun is a good 
weapon if it be used with a brave heart; the 
stump of an old sword can do fine work if it 
be wielded by a valiant hand. The Spanish 
peasants did for Napoleon, let the peasants 
find a weapon now! Roll together your 
rocks, tear up your paving - stones, convert 
your ploughshares into axes, torment the in- 
vaders with the pebbles from the ground; 
the stones you fling in their faces shall be 
the soil of Prance itself!" 

This ringing battle-cry was issued on the 
17th of September. Its author was urged to 
go and promulgate it throughout the prov- 
inces, but he felt pledged to share the fate of 
Paris, and would not quit his post. On the 
whole the people acted very heroically, al- 
though in October some signs of disafEection 
appeared, and there was an attempt at a 
communist insurrection which was fortu- 
nately quelled. 

Having thus first raised his voice in favor 
of peace by deprecating the advance of the 
Prussians, and having next encouraged a 
war that in his eyes was sanctified, inas- 
much as so far from being an aggression it 
had no other object than to repel invasion, 
the poet felt himself constrained to address 
the people of Paris, and to urge upon them 
the imperative duty of concord. 

"What you now owe to duty is to forget 
yourself," he said to every individual among 
them. He added: 

"There must now be union. Without 
unity you cannot prevail. Your resent- 
ments, your grievances, your animosities, 
must all be cast to the winds, and disappear 
in presence of the cannon's roar. We must 
hold togetjier so that we may fight together. 
Oui- merits must be deemed equal. Have 
any been outlaws? I know nothing about 
them. Have any been exiled ? It is not for 
me to inquire. It is no time now for per- 
sonalities; it is no time now for ambitions 
or reminiscences. The one common thought 
in which everything must now be merged 
must be the commonwealth." 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



239 



Wise and patriotic as these counsels were, 
they were not universally received as they 
deserved; but the author of them remained 
steadfast in setting a bright example of cour- 
age and of equanimity. 

In October a Parisian edition of "Les 
Chatiments" appeared; and the book thus 
became associated with the siege, playing its 
part during that terrible time. From the first 
issue, consisting of five thousand copies, the 
author received a profit of five hundred francs, 
which he at once contributed to the fund 
that had been started to procure cannon. 

Very shortly after this the Literary Society 
proposed that some of the leading artistes of 
the city should combine to give a recitation 
of pieces taken from the book which, once 
proscribed, had now, by the re-establishment 
of the Republic, become a lawful publica- 
tion. With the proceeds of the performance 
they begged their president to have a cannon 
cast for the national defence, and to allow it 
to be called by his own name. Victor Hugo 
replied that he was proud to accept their 
noble offer, but that he could not permit the 
gun to be named after himself, suggesting at 
the same time that it should be called "the 
ChSteaudim, " after the brave little town that, 
together with Strasburg, had attracted the 
admiration of Europe. 

The recitation of "Les ChStiments" took 
place at the theatre of the Porte-Saint-Martin 
on the 5th of November. M. Jules Claretie 
made a noble speech on behalf of the so- 
ciety, recounting the history of the poet's 
exile, and pointing out how the sad predic- 
tions of his verses had all been fulfilled. It 
was with the nephew just as it had been 
with the uncle, that the Empire which pro- 
fessed that "V Empire e'est la paix " had end- 
ed in invasion. 

Eecited as they were by the most gifted 
actors of the time, by Frederic Lemaltre, 
Coquelin, Marie Laurent, Lafontaine, and 
Berton, and accompanied by Pasdeloup's or- 
chestra, the passages from ' ' Les ChMments " 
were rendered with a skill and received with 
an enthusiasm which none but an eye-wit- 
ness could conceive. 

The proceeds of the performance were 
7500 francs; and the sensation was so great 
that the besieged population begged for a 
repetition of the entertainment, of which the 
success was still more complete. A third 
perforrnance was given on the 17th of Novem- 
ber, but on this occasion all the admittances 
were, by the poet's wish, perfectly free. M. 



Tony Revillon delivered an address upon 
the work; between the pieces the actresses 
went round and made a collection in Prussian 
helmets that they handed about, and at the 
end a gilt laurel-wreath was thrown upon the 
stage, bearing the inscription, 

**Poa otm Poet, 
Who haa labored to give peace of mind to the poor." 

Altogether the_ amount thus realized ex- 
ceeded 10,000 francs, and the Literary So- 
ciety resolved that two cannon should be 
cast, one to be inscribed with the word 
"Chfttiments," and the other with Victor 
Hugo's name. Both were also to bear the 
words "Societe des Gens des Lettres." M. 
Dorian, the Minister of Public Works, ac- 
quiesced in the scheme. The guns cost 
about 7000 francs, and the rest of the money 
was applied to the relief of literary men who 
were thrown into distress by the war. 

A further sum of 6000 francs, the proceeds 
of a performance of certain extracts from Vic- 
tor Hugo's principal plays at the Porte-Saint- 
Martin, was appropriated to the ambulances. 

But independently of these performances 
"Les ChStiments," as well as Victor Hugo's 
other works, became a kind of open proper- 
ty to the theatres, and by the author's per- 
mission were left at their disposal until Jan- 
uary in the foUovring year, when it was 
found impossible either to light or to warm 
the houses. It was a gi-acious act on the 
part of Victor Hugo, and it was owing to 
his generosity that several companies of in- 
fantry were kept provided with their neces- 
sary equipments. 

Gambetta, not many days before he made 
his venturous ascent in the balloon, called 
upon the poet, desirous to acknowledge the 
services which he had endeavored to render 
to the Republic and to his country. 

"For the public good," said Victor Hugo, 
' ' make use of me in any way you can. Dis- 
tribute me as you would dispense water. My 
books are even as myself; they are all the 
property of France. With them, with me, 
do just as you think best." 

There was scarcely any limitation to the 
range of the benefits which the poet by 
means of his works was now conferring. 
The stage - representations were multiplied 
in every direction. The needy and the sick, 
the widows and the orphans, none were for- 
gotten; though Victor Hugo himself, who 
shunned public ovations, was never present 
at any of the performances. 



230 



Via TOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



To the very last the poet maintained his 
courage and kept up his hope. Alarmed 
though he might be, he was ever anxious to 
aUay alarm in others, and in the severest 
hours of trial his cheerful demeanor never 
forsook him. From his pleasant quarters in 
Paul Meurice's house in the Avenue Frochot 
he made his way every morning to the Pa- 
vilion de Kohan, near the Rue de rfichelle, 
where his family had found a retreat, and 
there he welcomed not only his personal 
friends, but many of the members of the 
Committee for National Defence. For the 
sake of example, they all put themselves un- 
der strict rule of rations, determining to par- 
take of no more food than what was abso- 
lutely necessary. . 

To any of his colleagues whom Victor 
Hugo chanced to meet, he would say, 

"Come and dine with me; I can give you 
a spread." 

Of what the "spread" consisted, it may 
easily be imagined. There was hardly an 
animal of any kind that was not being util- 
ized for food : horses, dogs, cats, and rats 
finding their way to table, and helping, as it 
was jocosely said, to make everybody's stom- 
ach a sort of Noah's Ark. But the Amphit- 
ryon kept up a good heart, laughed over his 
strange diet, seasoning the unsavory viands 
with a bon-mot, and making up for any de- 
ficiency of food by a store of good anecdotes. 
His menu furnished him continually with the 
theme for many amusing couplets that have 
been preserved by Madame Drouet, although 
the author has naturally considered them too 
trivial to allow them to be published. Horse- 
flesh was usually the material of the meals; 
and on bne occasion, having partaken of a slice 
of some half- starved old hack that proved 
by no means easy of digestion, he wrote : 
"My dinner for digestion far too heavy seems ; 

Horse in tlie stomach gives saddle in the dreams." 
Nor was his jest always in verse. One even- 
ing, after Emmanuel Arago had been dining 
with him, he put on a very serious look and 
said to his guest, 

" My dear friend, you know my opinion on 
capital punishment." 

" Certainly," replied the statesman, assum- 
ing a very stern expression. 

"I have to solicit your pardon for an indi- 
vidual who has been condemned to death." 

"Oh, impossible, impossible! I do not 
know to whom you refer, but in critical times 
like these it is absolutely necessary for the 
sentence of the law to be strictly carried out." 



" But permit me — " interposed the poet. 

"Impossible!" repeated M. Arago; "I re- 
gret extremely that I cannot grant your re- 
quest." 

"Allow me to explain. The poor con- 
demned mortal for whom I would plead is 
our dear friend Theophile Gautier's horse." 

Amid general laughter the favor was grant- 
ed, and the poor old animal was saved, at 
least for a time, from going to the shambles. 

In M. Rivet's volume of anecdotes entitled 
"Victor Hugo chez lui," it is mentioned that 
towards the end of the winter, when the dearth 
began to be most severely felt, the idea began 
to be discussed of eating human flesh. 

"Oh, of course," said Victor Hugo, "I 
should not object to be the victim to appease 
the hunger of my fellow -citizens," and he 
added the impromptu: 

" Not my ashes to leave to my country I mean, 
But myself, my own self, my very beefsteak ! 
And, ladies, you'll need but a morsel to take 
To learn what ateuder old creature I've been I" 

The light-heartedness so peculiar to French- 
men did much to enable them to endure their 
hard privations, and it was with a smile on 
their countenances that they swallowed the 
bread of which M. Magnin has never divulged 
the ingredients. 

Every evening Victor Hugo, with sorrow 
at his heart, returned to his quarters, whence 
again during the night he would often go 
out and take long walks through the be- 
leaguered city, composing, according to his 
wont, superb verses, many of which were ul- 
timately to appear in "L'Annee Terrible." 

The sight of Paris in arms filled him with 
admiration. He would walk towards the 
ramparts where shells were falling, and, pur- 
suing his meditations in the gloom, would be 
stopped from time to time by the sentinels, 
to whom he always responded with the cry 
"Vive la Republique!" 

In reference to this terrible time he has of- 
ten said : 

"Never did city exhibit such fortitude. 
Not a soul gave way to despair, and courage 
increased in proportion as misery grew deeper. 
Not a crime was committed. Paris earned 
the admiration of the world. Her struggle 
was noble and she would not give in. Her 
women were as brave as her men. Surren- 
dered and betrayed she was; but she was not 
conquered." 

And the poet's voice ever trembles as he 
recounts the circumstances of that unde- 
served but not inglorious defeat. 



/■ 




PEItFOKMANCB AT THE THEATRE FRANf.'AIS. 
[Sketch bt/ Andrknz.] 



233 



VICTOR HUaO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

Elections for the National Assembly. — Arrival at Bordeaux. — Garibaldi.— Victor Hngo'e Speech.— The 
Representatives of Alsace and Lorraine — Stormy Sittings. —Victor Hngo's Kesignation. — Death of 
Charles Hugo.- His Funeral.— The Poet in Brussels — Request of M. Xavier de Mont^pin. 



Although he had refused to make any 
canvass, Victor Hugo obtained more than 
4000 votes in the fifteenth arrondissement in 
the municipal election in Paris on the 5th of 
November, 1870; while at the general elec- 
tion of the 8th of February, 1871, that took 
place immediately after the signing of the 
armistice, he was chosen as representative for 
the department of the Seine, being second 
out of forty -three candidates with 314,169 
votes. 

The Assembly at first sat at Bordeaux, 
where he arrived on the 14th of February, 
just two days after Garibaldi had left. On 
the following day, at the conclusion of the 
first sitting, he was urged to address the peo- 
ple from a balcony overlooking the Grande 
Place. This he declined to do, saying that 
at so grave a crisis prudence was the better 
part of devotion. He thought it right to 
communicate with the people only through 
the Assembly, and held that it was from the 
tribune that he ought to make his choice be- 
tween a desperate war and a still more des- 
perate peace — between a despair coupled 
with glory and a despair linked with shame. 

As the representative of Paris he sat in the 
ranks of the extreme Left. M. Grevy was 
the President of the Assembly. The first 
time that Victor Hugo spoke was on the 1st 
of March, when he delivered an energetic 
protest against the proposed preliminaries 
for peace. He said that Paris during her 
protracted struggle had been the admiration 
of the world; he declared that during five 
months of the Republic she had gained more 
honor than she had lost during nineteen 
years of the Empire ; he professed that, 
though she was mutilated herself, she would 
never be a participator in the mutilation of 
France; and he maintained that if Alsace 
and Lorraine still wished to be French, it 
was good and equitable that they should re- 
main so. 

"In Strasburg," he explained, "in that 
glorious city that has now been overpowered 



by the Prussian artillery, there are two stat- 
ues, one of Gutenberg, the other of Kleber; 
a voice within us bids us record our vow to 
Gutenberg that we will not quench the flame 
of civilization, and our vow to Kleber that 
we will not extinguish the light of the Re- 
public." 

Boisterous applause rose from the Left, 
and he concluded his speech by an eloquent 
appeal to "the universal Republic" and to 
Fraternity, which he asserted was his "ven- 
geance, " winding up by pronouncing in favor 
of continuing war as the only means of at- 
taining an enduring peace. 

But the treaty of peace was ratified. 

The representatives of Alsace and Lorraine 
forthwith sent in their resignation .to the 
Assembly; and a meeting of the radical Left 
was held on Thursday, the 13th of March, at 
which Victor Hugo announced his intention 
of submitting the following resolution to the 
Chamber: • 

"That the representatives of Alsace and 
Les Vosges retain their seats indefinitely, and 
that at every fresh election they shall be 
deemed duly elected." 

In bringing forward his motion from the 
tribune, he declared that although from a 
German point of view Alsace and Lorraine 
might be dead, from that of thei Assembly 
they were yet alive and in full vigor; there- 
fore he demanded that there should be a dis- 
tinct repudiation of the treaty, which, for his 
part, he ignored entirely as having no valid- 
ity at all, inasmuch as it had been extorted 
by force. 

Again he spoke to no effect. His words 
were not so effectual as his father's sword. 
The motion was rejected. 

After the integrity of France had been thus 
disposed of by the ratification of the peace 
treaty, the Assembly proceeded to dispose of 
Paris, and came to the resolution that the 
Chamber should sit at Versailles. Victor 
Hugo made a vehement protest against what 
he called the decapitalization of the capital; 



VICTOR SUGO AND 1118 TIME. 



233 



but once again the reactionary party pre- 
vailed and the Assembly wont against bim. 

A few days after this a report was made 
upon the election of Algiers, where Gari- 
baldi had been chosen as representative. It 
was proposed that the election should be de- 
clared null and void, whereupon Victor Hugo 
raised an earnest appeal. He said : 

"France has passed through a tremendous 
ordeal; she has emerged bleeding and van- 
quished. Of aU the powers of Europe, not 



scribable tumult broke out in the Assembly; 
there was no insult too gross to be aimed 
at the orator; the Vicomte de Lorgeril rose 
and declared that M. Victor Hugo was not 
speaking French ; and one deputy, the Abbe 
Jaffre, who had been returned at Morbihan, 
and was quite inexperienced in parliamen- 
taiy forms, entirely misunderstood the cry 
of "A I'ordre, a I'ordre," that was being raised 
by the furious majority, and at the very top 
of his voice kept shouting " A mort, a mort." 




GAKIBALDT. 



one has stirred itself to help the country 
which has ever been ready to take up the 
cause of Europe. Not one state, not one 
sovereign, has aroused itself on our behalf; 
nay, with a single exception, not one man. 
But one man there has been; and what has 
he had wherewith to aid us? Nothing but 
his sword. That sword of his had already 
delivered one nation, and he indulged the 
hope that it might contribute to the deliver- 
ance of another. And so he came; and so 
in our support he fought!" 
At the delivery of these words an inde- 



In the midst of the tumult Victor Hugo 
made himself heard; he said, calmly: 

"Three weeks ago j'ou declined to Us- 
tcn to Garibaldi ; you now refuse to listen to 
me. Very good. I send in my resigna- 
tion." 

Satisfied in his own mind that he ought 
not to retain a place in a C^bamber that 
appeared to bim to be animated by a spirit 
more dangerous tlian the worst and most 
odious Chamber that had gone before it, he 
could only retire. He left the tribune, and, 
taking a pen from the hand of one of the 



234 



yiCTOU HUGO AND JJLS TIME. 



reporters, lie wrote a line signif}'ing lii.s resig- 
nation, and handed it to M. Grevjr. Magnani- 
mous as ever, the President of the Assembly 
(now President of the Kepublic) did every- 
thing in his power to induce the poet to re- 
consider his resolution, but no persuasion 
could move him : and after tweuty-four hours' 
deliberation, during which M. Grevy pleaded 
with him most affectionately, he adhered to 
his resolve, and left the President no alterna- 
tive but to announce that the Assembly ivas 
to lose the services of the distinguished repre- 
sentative of Paris. 
Louis Blanc immediately rose. lie beg- 



devoted to humanity, and of humanity you 
are the first of apostles." 

On the f 3tli of March, just as he was mak- 
ing his arrangements to return to Paris, Vic- 
tor Hugo was al)Out to ."join some friends at 
dinner at a restaurant, when he received the 
tidings of the sudden death of his sou 
Charles, who had been seized with conges- 
tion of the brain in a cab as he was re- 
turning from an entertainment where he 
had been taking farewell of some of his 
friends. 

It was a shock as trying as it was unex- 
pected. After nineteen years of banishment. 




CIIAllLES HUGO S FtlNEKAL. 



ged to express his extreme regret that a man 
to whom France was under so great an obli- 
gation should feel himself compelled to re- 
sign his seat in that Assembly; it was adding 
another drop of sorrow to the cup that was 
already over full ; he grieved that a voice so 
powerful should be hushed just at an emer- 
gcnc}' when the country shoidd be showing 
its gratitude to all its benefactors. Ho was 
seconded by M. Schoelcher. 

Garibaldi himself wrote to Victor Hugo : 
" It needs no writing to show that we are 
of one accord; wc understand each other; 
the deeds that you have done and the affec- 
tion that I have Ijorne for you make a bond 
of union between us. What you have testi- 
fied fm' me at Bordeaux is a pledge of a life 



after the loss of his true and loving wife, and 
after the bitter sufEerings of the recent trou- 
bles of war and siege, the exile seemed to 
feel that he had returned to France to min- 
gle a father's tears with those which he had 
shed as a patriot. 

In deep distress, he had his son's body 
brought to Paris, resolved that it should be 
interred in the family vault at Pere La 
Chaise, where the poet's father, mother, and 
brother Eu,gene were already l.ving. The 
funeral took place on the 18th, Victor Hugo 
himself, his surviving son Francois, Paul 
Meurice, Auguste Vaoquerie, Paul Poucher, 
and some other friends following the hearse 
on foot. Without entering any church, the 
little procession went direct to the cemetery. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



235 



though, as the reporter to Le Sappel has re- 
lated, it took up a remarkable contingent on 
the way. In the Place de la Bastille, three 
of the National Guard recognized Victor 
Hugo, and, immediately taking their places 
beside the hearse, marched along with low- 
ered guns. As they proceeded a number of 
their comrades joined them; and when the 
cortege arrived at the burial-ground it in- 
cluded nearly a hundred soldiers, who had 
voluntarily formed a guard of honor. Pa- 
trolling detachments were then unusually 
numerous, and on hearing whose funeral 
was passing the men lowered their arms, 
sounded their bugles, and beat their drums ; 
and even the guards on the barricades, not 
in the direct line of thoroughfare, present- 
ed arms by way of salutation to the chief 
mourner. 

At the grave so great a crowd had col- 
lected that there was some little delay before 
the bier could reach the vault. Two funeral 
orations were delivered, one by Auguste 
Vacquerie, the other by Louis Mie. 

After speaking of the life of promise that 
seemed to lie open before the son of their 
venerable and sorrowing friend, M. Vacque- 
rie proceeded to eulogize the principle of 
right which the departed had learned to love 
from his father, and which not even the 
grave could annihilate, declaring that if he 
could come back from the tomb it would be 
only to commence afresh the struggle for 
truth in which he had been arrested by the 
hand of death. 

M. Louis Mie spoke on behalf of the pro- 
vincial press. Charles Hugo, he reminded 
those who stood around him, had entered 
■ the battle of life by advocating his father's 
views as to the claims of humanity, and he 
■concluded by saying that while there had 
been many sons who had detracted from 
their father's honor, here was one whose 
•every action served to contribute something 
of glory to a reputation to which already 
nothing seemed wanting. 

Notwithstanding the sympathy which was 
so largely shown to him, Victor Hugo was 
much overwhelmed by his grief, though his 
ardent love for humanity inspired him with 
strength to overcome it. 

A few days after his son's funeral he 
started for Brussels, where he had to go 
through the formalities which his office as 
executor and guardian of his grandchildren 
entailed upon him. But his absence from 
Paris did not make him cease to follow with 



anxious interest the struggle that was going 
on between the capital and Versailles. Rais- 
ing his protest against the civil war, he 
wrote ; 

" Hold, hold your hands ! yom' sti'ife a bitter harvest 

yields ; 
Why spread the ragiug flame that devastates yonr 

fields? 
When Frauce looks face to face on Prance as foe, 
France murders all her honor, fills herself with woe ; 
Each victory sends the blight of mourning through 

the land 
When fellow-citizens in blood-red quarrel stand ; 
Each cannon -shot when Frenchmen Frenchmen 

strike. 
Is charged with death and fratricide and shame 

alike!" 

And when he witnessed how the leaders of 
the Commune, on the plea of retaliation, 
plunged into every excess, he became indig- 
nant, and called on them to recollect how 
nothing ought to be done outside the line of 
honesty and justice. No sooner did he hear 
of them cannonading the Colonne and the 
Arc de Triomphe than his indignation waxed 
still hotter, and he issued ' ' Les deux Tro- 
phees," in earnest hope that he might suc- 
ceed in staying the ruthless hand of the de- 
stroyers : 

" Oh, has not France enough of slaughter seen ? 
Deluged with blood enough has France not been? 

Had it been Prussia's voice that bade you know 
That pillar and that archway down must go — 
' That brazen column stands too proud on high, 
That stately arch too much offends my eye — 
Down with them both ! ' 
How fnll of deadly fury you had turned ! 
With what disdain yon had her bidding spurned 1 
With one accord to rescue them would haste ; 
Yet now by your own deed you lay them waste !" 

Without hesitation, Victor Hugo con- 
demned the Commune with the utmost vehe- 
mence of his nature. He wrote to Le Bap- 
pel that the city of science could not be 
guided by ignorance, the city of light could 
not be led by blindness. Ignorance generates 
want of principle ; blindness tends to brutal- 
ity, and there was nothing less than brutality 
in the affair of the hostages, which was an 
abominable device of a few desperate mad- 
men. 

However, when the bloody days of May, 
1871, were passed, and the insurrection was 
quelled, Victor Hugo retained no animosity 
against the men whose proceedings he had 
so vehemently denounced; he not only pro- 
tested against the decree of the Belgian gov- 
ernment, which forbade the fugitives from 
Paris to betake themselves to the country, 



236 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



\mX he opened liis own house to some of 
theip as an asylum. He was still residing in 
Brussels, at 4 Rue des Barricades, and he 
maintained that his conscience impelled him 
to offer this retreat to those that needed it, 
satisfied that he was only acting in con- 
formity with the principles that had ever 
guided him. Already he had written, years 
ago: 

•' Should e'er it cbauce to me to see my direst foe 
Witli bolts and dungeon threatened and by wrong 
distressed, 
My vengeful anger would I instantly forego ; 
Nay, though it were the tyrant who myself op- 
pressed, 
To find him safe asylum should be all my care, 
Just as the Christ a vile Iscariot might spare." 

He was ready to proclaim pardon for all; 
he would forgive the misguided who had 
been led astray by the terror of the political 
situation; he would forgive the Parisian 
workmen, who, failing to have confidence in 
M. Thiers, fancied that the Republic was in 
peril ; he was anxious to extend protection to 
the defeated, and all this was only in accord- 
ance with what he had himself once said, 
that if Napoleon III. were in such a strait 
that he had to began asylum, he would give 
it him, and not a hair of his head should be 
hurt. 

To little purpose, however, did Victor 



Hugo raise the plea for mercy. Two in- 
stances may be quoted to illustrate the ve- 
hemence of the fury of those who were 
opposed to him. One of these is some- 
what ludicrous, the other verges on the trag- 
ical. 

On the 32d of June, M, Savier de Monte- 
pin, a writer of feuilletons as unwholesome 
as they were illiterate, wrote a letter to the 
President of the Society of Dramatic Au- 
thors, in which he submitted that the society 
would only be consulting their proper dig- 
nity by having the names of MM. Felix Pyat, 
Victor Hugo, Henri Rochef ort, Paul Meuric'e, 
and all others who in any way made a com- 
promise with the Commune, erased from the 
roll of their members. His way of recom- 
mending his proposal was droll enough. 

"We shall thus," he writes, "be hollow- 
ing out an abyss between such men and our- 
selves." 

The idea of M. Xavier de Montepin desir- 
ing to "hollow out an abyss" between him- 
self and the author of ' ' Hernani " and ' ' Ma- 
rion Delorme " was a fund of amusement to 
the society, who of course took no notice 
whatever of the letter; but the incident 
ought not to fail of being registered. 

The more tragical illustration may be de- 
ferred to another chapter. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



337 



CHAPTER XXXII. 

Victor Hngo's Opinion of the Commune.— The Commnnists in Bvussels.— The Belgian Chamber Attaclt 

npon Victor Hngo's Quarters.— Expnlsiou from Belgium.— Protest against the Action of the Govern- 
ment.— A Visit to ThiunviUe.— Reminiscences of General Hugo. —Little Georges and the Prussian 
General.— Return to France. 



On the 28tli of April, Victor Hugo wrote 
from Brussels to Auguste Vacquerie and 
Paul Meurice on the subject of the events 
that were then transpiring in Paris. With- 
out disputing that France had a perfect right 
to declare herself a commune if she would, 
he considered that she was bound to await a 
fitting opportunity. 

"But why," he asked — "why break out 
into a conflict at such an hour as this? why 
rush into a civil war when a foreign war is 
scarcely at an end? How unseemly to treat 
Prussia to the spectacle of Frenchmen fight- 
ing like wild beasts in a circus, and that cir- 
cus France itself!" 

After censuring the insurrection as the re- 
sult of an ignorant misunderstanding, he said 
that though he had been almost uncouscious- 
ly a man of revolutions from his youth, al- 
ways ready to accept great necessities, yet 
it had ever been under the condition that 
they should be the confirmation of principle, 
and not its convulsion. No one could have 
spoken with more prudence and modera- 
tion. 

Meanwhile events thickened; the fatal 
■days of May occurred, and many of the van- 
quished Communists sought refuge in Bel- 
gium. 

The Belgian Minister of Foreign Affairs, 
questioned on the subject, pledged himself to 
do all in his power to prevent the country 
from being invaded by the Communists, 
whom he denounced as unworthy of the 
name of men, and such as ought to he ar- 
raigned at the bar of civilized nations. To 
this declaration, Victor Hugo made a reply 
which appeared in L' Independance of the 
37th of May. 

While accepting in large measure the prin- 
ciples of the Commune, he totally repudiated 
their acts, expressing his thorough detesta- 
tion of their rule of hostages, their retalia- 
tions and their excesses; but he insisted that, 
savage as they had been, they ought not to 



be condemned without a trial. He said that 
although Belgium by law might refuse them 
an asylum, his own conscience could not ap- 
prove that law. The Church of the Middle 
Ages had offered sanctuary even to parricides, 
and such sanctuary the fugitives should find 
at his home; it was his privilege to open his 
door if he would to his foe, and it ought to 
be Belgium's glory to be a place of refuge. 
England did not surrender the refugees, and 
why should Belgium be behindhand in mag- 
nanimity? 

This brought about the tragical issue to 
which we have alluded. 

On the very night after the publication of 
the article, he was about to retire to rest 
when there was a ringing of the house-bell. 
Opening his window on the first floor, he 
looked out and inquired who was there, and 
receiving the answer that it was Dombrow- 
ski, faithful to his promise that he would 
give an asylum to any that needed it he was 
about to descend to unbar the outer door, 
when a great stone struck the wall close by. 
Looking round again, he saw a group of men 
in the square, and, understanding only too 
well what they wanted, he called out to them 
that they were a set of ruflians, and hastily 
shut his window. At this moment, a huge 
fragment of paving -stone crashed through 
the window-pane close above his head and 
fell at his feet; while outside the shout was 
raised, " A has Victor Hugo ! 3, has Jean 
Valjean ! A mort Victor Hugo ! k mort, £ 
mort!" 

The outcry brought Charles Hugo's widow 
running into the room with her two little 
children; and while the stones kept rattling 
through the window, the voices were dis- 
tinctly heard crying out, "To the gallows! 
to the gallows! we will smash in his door!" 

As the noise subsided, the startled inmates, 
thinking there was no further cause for 
alarm, went back to their rooms. 

But half an hour afterwards the assault 



338 



riOTOB HUGO AND EIS TIME. 



was resumed. A large stone fell on Victor 
Hugo's bed. At tlie risk of her life, Madame 
Charles Hugo clambered over the roof of a 
conservatory, the glass breaking under her 
feet, and reached an adjoining house; but, 
though she did her utmost to attract atten- 
tion, she could get no answer. 

Once again the tumult ceased, and Victor 
Hugo was caressing the frightened children 
and carrying them back to their chamber, 
when another stone was hurled into the room 
and grazed the little girl's head. 

The assailants, frustrated in their attempt 
to break in the door, next began to scale the 
house; but at that time of year there is no 
long duration of night, and two workmen 
passed by, who, seeing the commotion, hur- 
ried off to inform the poUce, upon whose ap- 
proach the ruffians made off. Close at hand 
a heavy beam was found, which no doubt 
was being conveyed to the place with the 
intention of battering in the door. 

It was a dastardly assault. So far from 
taking any measures to punish it forthwith, 
the government only issued an order, signed 
by the king and the minister of justice, to the 
effect that Victor Hugo must immediately 
quit the kingdom, and that, under the penal- 
ties of the law of 1865, he was forbidden to 
return. 

In the Chamber, on the same day, the min- 
ister declared that Victor Hugo's letter must 
be regarded as a challenge, an outrage upon 
public morality, and an open defiance of the 
law; and consequently Victor Hugo, as a dis- 
turber of the public peace, must be ordered 
to quit the country. 

In vain did M. Defuisseaux protest; in vain 
did he allege that the illustrious author of 
"Les ChStiments " was entitled to their sym- 
pathy; and that, so far from being disturbed 
by him, the public peace had been interrupt- 
ed only by a few miscreants who were lost 
to all sense of justice or of honor. No one 
would listen. But the outrage, nevertheless, 
had the effect of making the government re- 
flect, and they refrained from proceeding to 
proscribe every Communist indiscriminately; 
and, moreover, they took measures to have the 
agents in the disturbance of the 27th of May 
brought to justice. It was difficult, of course, 
so long after date, to procure much conclu- 
sive evidence, and the witnesses were few 
and hard to gather; there was, however, little 
room to doubt that M. Kervyn de Letten- 
hove, the son of the Minister of the Interior, 
had been one of the ringleaders in the dis- 



graceful disturbance, and he was fined in the 
nominal sum of 100 francs. 

Driven from Belgium, Victor Hugo made a 
tour through Luxembourg, going first to Vi- 
anden, where the news of his arrival soon 
spread. At this place one of the preachers 
from the pulpit denounced him as the as- 
sassin of the Archbishop of Paris, telling his 
congregation that the presence among them 
of such a man would be sure to bring a heavy 
visitation upon them. The sermon had a 
very unexpected effect. A musical society, 
known as "La Lyre," came out and sere- 
naded the poet under his window, whence he 
thanked them with considerable emotion, as 
he had lately been far more accustomed to 
the tumult of passionate wrath than to any 
exhibition of sjrmpathy. He said that this 
was the fifth time that he had visited the 
country: previously he had come, drawn by 
admiration of their wild and beautiful scen- 
ery; now he had been driven among themi 
by a cruel blast, but their kind reception 
atoned for much of his trouble. He next 
made his way to London, where he remained 
some time. 

Some time previously he had made a tour 
through the East of France, visiting the 
scenes of the recent war, and taking his 
grandchildren with him to show them the 
towns that had been bombarded by the Prus- 
sian shells. 

Among other towns, he went to Thion- 
ville, where, in 1793, ChSteaubriand had been 
wounded, and where, in 1814, Goethe had 
borne his part as an assailant. Here it was 
that General Hugo had made his haughty 
reply when summoned to surrender to the 
Baron of Hainault, and he asked to be shown 
the house where his father had resided at the 
time. The people at the hotel could not in- 
form him, but advised him to apply to the 
mayor, who was very old and would probably 
recollect. On acquainting the mayor with 
his name, the venerable functionary started 
to his feet and exclaimed, "Ah, we wanted 
General Hugo, and Thionville again would 
have scorned to surrender to the Prussians!" 
The whole of the town cotmcil, on being in- 
formed that General Hugo's son was among 
them, rose to their feet and testified their re- 
spect. 

It was sad to find that the portrait of the 
old soldier had not escaped the ravages of 
the shells; only a bit of the frame remained 
hanging to the wall, A Prussian sentinel 
marched to and fro outside the chamber. 




A KIGHT ATTACK IN BRUSSELS. 



240 



VICTOR HUGO AND BIS TIME. 



One day, as the poet, while strolling in the 
suburbs, stopped to make a sketch, an old 
woman, who caught his name, came up to 
him and asked him whether he was the fine 
young man with whom years ago she had 
often danced at the town balls. He dis- 
claimed all previous acquaintance with her, 
but on further conversation it turned out 
that she retained very clear recollections of 
his brother Abel, who had been in Thion- 
ville with his father. 

We may be excused for introducing an- 
other little episode of this visit. The poet's 
grandson was crossing the court-yard of the 
iiotel where they were staying, and a Prus- 
sian general, attracted by the child's hand- 
some looks, held out his hand and said, 

"Will you shake hands with me, little 
man?" 

The child looked steadily at the officer for 
a moment, and then said, decidedly, 



"No." 

"Whose child is that?" the officer in- 
quired. 

"M.Victor Hugo's grandson," answered 
the nurse. 

"Oh, then I understand," said the general; 
"you are quite right, little man!" and he 
smiled and walked away. 

When Victor Hugo returned to Paris at 
the end of the year 1871, he did not resume 
his residence with Paul Meurice, from whom 
he had received such hospitality for six 
months before, but he rented apartments 
for himself at No. 66 Rue de la Roche- 
foucauld; in these, in consequence of being 
in mourning, he received hardly any com- 
pany, and after about fifteen months he re- 
moved to No. 31 Rue de Clichy, where, in- 
terested in his grandchildren, and still de- 
voted to the welfare of his country, he spent 
his days rejoicing in the return of peace. 




VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



341 



CHAPTER XXXIII. 

Votes Obtained in Jaly, 18T1.— The Mandat Impiratif nnd the Mandat ConirachMj.— Election of January, 1872. 

—'•La Liberation da Tevritoire."— Death of Fraiipois Hugo His Faueral.— Speech by Louis Blanc.— 

Funeral of Madame Louis Blanc The Poet's Creed.— "L'Aim<;e Terrible." 



It was while Victor Hugo was travelling 
in Luxembourg that the elections of July 3, 
1871, took place. They were seriously af- 
fected by occurring during a state of siege, 
And by the erasure of 140,000 names from 
the roll of electors. The abseilt poet ob- 
tained only 57,000 votes, but he wrote that 
he was more proud of them than he had 
been of the 214,000 which he had received 
in Paris in February. 

On resigning his seat at Bordeaux, he had 
said, "In this Assembly there is a majority 
that will not allow an idea to be matured. It 
would not listen to Garibaldi; it has not lis- 
tened to me. But mark me ! on the very day 
that M. Thiers ceases to give it satisfaction, 
the Eight will deal with him just in the same 
way that the Left has dealt with Garibaldi 
and myself; and nothing wovild surprise me 
less than his sending in his resignation. We 
are experiencing a repetition of 1815." 

It was a prediction, like many others that 
Victor Hugo made, which was destined to be 
lulfilled. M. Thiers not only had to resign, 
but for a time it seemed very doubtful 
whether the monarchical party would not 
prevail. Only internal dissension prevented 
the re-establishment of a throne. 

Ever zealous in the cause of liberty, Victor 
Hugo took advantage of every opportunity 
to intercede for all those who by court-mar- 
tial had been sentenced to transportation or 
to death. He begged for the lives of Maro- 
teau, Rossel, Ferre, Lullier, and Cremieux, 
•declaring that political executions were only 
like a subterranean volcano, perpetuating the 
hidden dangers of civil war. But though 
he pleaded with unremitting earnestness, his 
appeal for clemency was of no avail, and all 
the answer he received was the bloody slay- 
ing of the hostages. 

In December it was proposed to him, in 
view of the approaching supplementary 
elections, that he should accept the mandat 
imperatif. This he could not do, because, 
according to his principles, conscience may 
■ 16 



not take orders ; but he endeavored to change 
the mandat imperatif into a mandat contrac- 
tvA, so that there might be a more open dis- 
cussion between the elector and the elected. 
The amendment was accepted, but Victor 
Hugo only poUed 95,900 votes, against 
133,435, which were registered in favor of 
M.Vautrain; his defeat, no doubt, being in a 
great measure attributable to his posters, 
which were headed "Amnesty," and avowed 
that "there are times when society is alarm- 
ed and seeks assistance for the merciless. " 

His failure to secure his election did not 
prevent him from continuing to apply his 
energies to social questions; and although 
he was invited by the electors of Tours to 
become a candidate for the sixth arrondisse- 
ment, he considered that for a time he could 
serve the Republic better by remaining out 
of the Assembly. 

He published, in September, 1873, a poem 
which he called "La Lib§ration du Terri- 
toire," and which was sold for the benefit of 
the people of Alsace and Lorraine. France 
at the time was getting up Jttes in honor of 
the Shah of Persia, the Asiatic potentate of 
whom it is affirmed that, having once con- 
quered a city, he had the eyes of the princi- 
pal inhabitants, to the weight of about thirty 
pounds, carried before him in trays; and 
this moved the indignant poet to ask whether 
it was well to be exhibiting the national army 
to such a man, even though he adorned his 
horse's tail with diamonds. 

Only a short time afterwards he was call- 
ed upon to sustain another trying blow. His 
only surviving son, Frangois Victor, suc- 
cumbed on the 26th of December to a pain- 
ful illness that had confined him to his room 
for sixteen months. It seemed the overflow- 
ing of his cup of grief, and yet there were 
men, whose names had better not be men- 
tioned, who jeered at the father's sorrow, 
and openly rejoiced over his loss. 

Auguste Vacquerie inserted an admirable 
obituary notice in Le Rappel, claiming for 



243 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



Francois the reputation of an historian rather 
than a journalist, and praising his kind and 
charming disposition. Long before the hour 
fixed for the funeral, a dense crowd assem- 
bled before the house. Shortly after noon 
the coffin was carried out, followed by Vic- 
tor Hugo himself, who went on foot, accom- 
panied by the widow of Charles Hugo, who 



that Louis Blanc made a short oration, in 
which he eulogized the integrity and the in- 
dustry of the deceased. Speaking of the fa- 
ther's sorrow, he said that it was consoled by 
the happy conviction that the separation of 
death is not perpetual. The poet believed 
his own words, 
''The grave is life's prolonging, not its dreary end," 




FBAN9OI8 VICTOR HUGO. 



had been so patient in her devoted care to 
her brother-in-law during his illness that she 
was almost prostrate with weakness. A num- 
ber of the most illustrious men in Paris join- 
ed the procession to the cemetery, where, the 
family grave being already full, the body 
was deposited in a temporary vault. The 
ceremony was performed in silence, except 



and repudiated all idea of final severance. 
The eternity of God and the immortality 
of the soul are doctrines that strengthen a 
man in all his afilictions, and make him 
capable of living still so as to benefit hu- 
manity. 

Victor Hugo wept bitterly as his friends 
led him away from the grave-side, and num- 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



243 



bers around him kept shouting aloud, "Vive 
Victor Hugo ! Vive la Republique 1" 

Two years later he was called upon to 
speak similar words of consolation to Louis 
Blanc, who had to consign Madame Louis 
Blanc to her grave; and he recalled the time 
when he had himself been chief mourner : 

"What my friend performed for me two 
years ago is an oflace that I now discharge to 
him. The tender pressing of hand to hand 
at the brink of the open grave is a part of 
our mortal destiny; and destiny seems often 
to decree that the greatest souls should be 
most sorely tried: then it is they need the 
consolation of a sincere belief." 

Such belief, it may confidently be aflBrmed, 
Victor Hugo possesses. He faUs to recog- 
nize any intermediate agency between the 
soul and God, and, consequently, his con- 
science permits him to admit no human 
counsel in divine things; he repudiates all 
narrow dogmas and rejects aU stern iJenun- 
ciations of eternal punishment. In launch- 
ing forth his invectives against fanatics, 
monks, inquisitors, prelates, popes, and Jes- 
uits, he is aware only of a desire to stand 
clear of superstition, and to represent God 
simply as he is — good and great, and worthy 
to be loved in his own glory. He holds 
that moral rectitude far transcends all relig- 
ious ordinance. He had Lamennais for his 
confessor, but, like Lamennais, he left the 
bosom of the Roman Church, saying of him- 
self: 

"Yes, by education I was a Catholic, but 
that is all over and gone; still I hold my 
faith in the immortality of the soul. I am 
thankful to God for the years of mercy he 
has granted me, and, above all, I am thank- 
ful that he has permitted me to spend those 
years in useful labor." 

It is beyond our sphere to comment upon 
this creed. With some difEerences, he holds 
the doctrines which were held by Voltaire, who 
never was the unbeliever which the priests 
whom he attacked desired to represent him. 
Like the author of " L'Essai sur les Moeurs," 
he has been exposed to the vituperations of 
the clergy; although he has not been uni- 
formly hostile to Catholicism, inasmuch as 
he haUed the accession of Pius IX. to the 
popedom in 1846, believing that the new 
pope would invest the tiara with the best at- 
tributes of liberty — an anticipation which 
was falsified only too soon by the publication 
of the Encyclical. 
From the period of his expulsion from 



Belgium until he entered the Senate, Victor 
Hugo kept himself incessantly occupied in 
the production of new works, all designed to 
further the cause that he had at heart. He 
wrote an admirable essay on the occasion of 
the Petrarch Centenary, and another on the 
Philadelphia Exhibition. He delivered fu- 
neral orations over Madame Paul Meurice, 
Edgar Quinet, Frideric Lemaltre the actor, 
and Georges Sand. He wrote to the Italian 
democrats; he pleaded the cause of the con- 
vict Simbozel. The days were not long 
enough for his work. 

Day by day throughout the siege he had 
kept a register of the sad history, and this 
formed the basis of "L'Annee Terrible," a 
poetical narrative which contains some of his 
noblest inspirations. He describes the catas- 
trophe of Sedan, and sees how the glory of 
Prance was dimmed when the sword was sur- 
rendered into the stern conqueror's hand; he 
enumerates one fearful episode after another, 
denounces Germany as being answerable for 
the fratricidal war, and stigmatizes the in- 
vaders as plunderers. Apostrophizing the 
cannon that had been founded out of the 
proceeds of "Les ChStimehts," he exclaims, 

"... thon deadly weapon, offspring of my muse 1 
Put then thy bronze into my bowed and wounded 

heart, 
And let my soul its vengeance to thy bronze im- 
part." 

Every paragraph may be recognized as 
bearing the mark of being written on the 
spur of the moment, and as characterized by 
the alternate hopes and fears that each hour 
brought with it; but whUe he bewails his 
country's defeat and sufEers with her agony, 
he foretells her coming resurrection. 

All through his life Victor Hugo has cher- 
ished the vision of universal brotherhood, 
adapting the verses of " Patria" to an air of 
Beethoven's, deeming it a symbol of frater- 
nal concord between Prance and Germany; 
but after Sedan he felt that he had no alter- 
native but to encourage the national de- 
fence, convinced that to save Paris and 
France was the way to save civilization. 

However, when the struggle was ended, 
and while many in their despondency were 
thinking it was all over with them, his was 
the first voice to cry, "Courage and hope!" 
The storm passed away, but it had left a 
deeper faith in his heart; he felt that the na- 
tion could not sink like lead, and so he made 
the strings of his lyre resound with the melo- 
dies of peace, and to pour forth the strains 



244 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



of promise that the day was not far distant 
■when France would woo her sons to prog- 
ress, and in the track of princes who were 
drunk witli blood there should follow the 
dawn of justice and liberty. Contrasting the 
prosperity of the vanquished with the em- 



barrassments of the conqueror, he adopted 
the language of prediction, asserting that 
France had only to be faithful to her mission, 
and France could not be annihilated. 

Events have since proved that the poet 
was right. 





l'annbe terrible. 



246 



VIGTOB RTjaO AND EIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXIV. 

"Quatre-viugt-treize."— Criticism.— Article by M. BscofSer.— Victor Hugo's Good Memory.— " Mes Fils." — 
"Actes et Paroles." — "Pour an Soldat."— Second Series of "La LSgende des SiScles."- Ttie Rue de 
Clicliy.— Eeceplions.— Conversatiou. 



The last romance published by Victor 
Hugo was " Quatre-vingt-treize." It appear- 
ed in 1874, and, like "Les Miserables," was 
translated at once into many languages. The 
tale of the year of blood is most strikingly 
told, the object of the book being to show 
how, from that sanguinary atmosphere and 
from that merciless strife, progress and hu- 
manity rose up and showed themselves tri- 
umphant. 

As a second title the work was called "La 
Guerre Civile;" and La Vendee, as the last 
asylum of the royalist faith, is made the thea- 
tre of a dramatic history of which the scenes 
are relieved by charming descriptions of the 
country. The heroes of the book are imper- 
sonations of all the passions, the stoical vir- 
tue, the indomitable courage, the stern re- 
sistance, which pharacterized the men of the 
period. 

There is a magnificent chapter which seems 
to bring into fresh life the Paris of '93; it 
represents the city in all its picturesqueness, 
seething and devoid of rest, while the ac- 
count of the giant insurrection is entrancing 
in its interest and graced by passages of ex- 
quisite sentiment. The book received the 
most favorable criticism, although it was at 
last just as it had been at first, that the au- 
thor's vocabulary was somewhat severely 
censured. It was in three volumes, and an 
anecdote is told about the first edition which 
may be worth repeating. 

On the day of the first publication of the 
hook, M. EscoflSer, the editor of Le Petit 
Journal, was desirous to be the first to re- 
view it. Le Petit Journal, it should be said, 
was a paper which had done much to raise 
the moral standard of the people, and M. 
Esooffler, under the pseudonym 6f Thomas 
Orimm, had contributed a series of articles 
remarkable alike for their conciseness and 
for their strong sense. On this occasion he 
received a copy of the first volume at mid- 
day, followed two hours afterwards by a 
copy of the third volume, with a message 



that he could not have the second volume un- 
til after five o'clock. Detemiined not to be 
baflied, M. Escofiier hurried off to the house 
of Paul Meurice, where he obtained an in- 
terview with Victor Hugo, and learned the 
fuU particulars about the missing volume in 
time to complete his review for the next 
morning. 

As an instance of the poet's retentive 
memory, it may be mentioned that when M. 
EscofBerwas introduced to him, although 
they had never met before, Victor Hugo said 
to him, 

"I remember, M. Escoffler, being much 
struck with an observation of yours long 
ago; you observed that ' Les Girondins' had 
been the work of an epoch, and that ' Les 
Mis6rables ' would probably be the work of 
a century." 

It was more than eleven years since Es- 
coffler had written this in a little Toulouse 
newspaper. Many similar instances have 
been related which demonstrate in how 
marked a degree Victor Hugo possesses the 
faculty of extraordinary memory. 

After "Quatre-vingt-treize" there ap- 
peared in 1874 a touching pamphlet which 
the author called " Mes Fils," being a cry of 
hope which he associated with a tribute of 
affection to his own dead children. In 1875 
a new edition was published of "Napoleon 
le Petit," the original of which had been 
issued in London in 1853. 

This was followed by a work entitled 
"Actes et Paroles: avant, pendant, et depuis 
I'Exil," of which Victor Hugo has given his 
own description. He says about it: 

" The trilogy is not mine, but the Emperor 
Napoleon's; he it is who has divided my life; 
to him the honor of it is due. That which 
is Bonaparte's we must render to Caesar." 

Each of the three volumes was devoted to 
a separate period of the exile, and from their 
pages have been drawn many of the inci- 
dents of the present work. 

Commencing with an admonition to resist- 




PETIT PAUL ("LA LEGENDB TIES SIBCLBS ' 



248 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



ance, the "Actes et Paroles" concludes 
with an exhortation to clemency; resistance 
to tyrants should not be deemed inconsistent 
with clemency to the vanquished. 

Some time previously to this, the prolific 
author had issued his pamphlet "Pour un 
Soldat, " a production which realized a double 
benefit, as not only did it contribute to the 
saving of the life of the poor soldier who 
had been condemned for a very venial crime, 
but the profits of the sale were applied to the 
relief of the sufferers in Alsace and Lorraine. 

Next, in 1877, appeared the second part of 
"La Legende des SiScles," proving itself a 
worthy sequel to the first. Here, once again, 
the poet surveys the cycle of humanity from 
the days of Paradise to the future which he 
anticipates; he takes his themes alike from 
the legends of the heroic age of Greece and 
from the domains of actual history, and, af- 
ter singing of the achievements of the great, 
he dedicates his lay to the little ones, and 
in a charming poem entitled "Petit Paul" 
he depicts with fascinating pathos all the 
tenderness and all the sorrows of childhood. 

On the opening page of the book the au- 
thor has inscribed a notice to the effect that 
the final series of "La Legende des SiScles" 
will be published if his life be spared to 
complete the task, but it has not yet appear- 
ed, although it is known to be almost fin- 
ished. 

At the date when the second series was 
published Victor Hugo was residing at No. 
31 Rue de Clichy ; circumstances having 
thus brought him back to the very street 
where he had passed some of his early years, 
and close to the school where he had learned 
to read. He shared the apartments on the 
fourth floor with Madame Charles Hugo, 
who, after remaining a widow several years, 
was married to M. Charles Lockroy, deputy 
for the Seine, and well known both as a pol- 
itician and a man of letters. The third floor 
was occupied by Madame Drouet, the lady 
who had made such exertions on his behalf 
when he was proscribed in 1851, and who 
now placed her sahn at his disposal for the 
reception of his friends. 

This salon, decorated with furniture after 
the poet's own taste, may be said to have 
become historical, as having been associated 
with many of the learned men of the day; 
and the author of this volume may state that 
it has been at the receptions in this apart- 
ment that he has enjoyed the acquaintance 
of the great author, who once remarked to 



him, with an expression of sadness, that the 
works which he had dreamed of writing 
were infinitely more numerous than those 
which he had ever found time to write. 

The hand, no doubt, is too slow for the 
gigantic work that the poet conceives. And 
yet no moment is ever lost. Generally up 
with the sun, he writes until midday, and 
often until two o'clock. Then, after a light 
luncheon, he goes to the Senate, where dur- 
ing intervals of debate he despatches all his 
correspondence. He finds his recreation 
generally by taking a walk, although not 
unfrequently he will mount to the top of 
an omnibus just for the sake of finding him- 
self in the society of the people with whom 
he has shown his boundless sympathy. At 
eight o'clock he dines, making it his habit 
to invite not only his nearest friends, but 
such as he thinks stand in need of encour- 
agement, to join him and his grandchildren 
at their social meal. 

At table Victor Hugo relaxes entirely from 
his seriousness. The powerful orator, the 
earnest pleader, becomes the charming and 
attractive host, full of anecdote, censuring 
whatever is vile, but ever ready to make 
merry over what is grotesque. Punctually 
at ten he adjourns to the salon, where, in the 
midst of a distinguished circle, he joins in 
the free flow of conversation. Always affa- 
ble, he has not merely a cordial welcome for 
the renowned, but a word of kind animation 
for the humblest recruit in the literary army. 
No one can leave his company without feel- 
ing reassured and delighted. 

On these occasions he makes a fine picture. 
Hale and vigorous in his appearance, precise- 
and elegant in his attire, with unbowed head, 
and with thick white hair crowning his un- 
furrowed brow, he commands involuntary 
admiration. Round his face is a close white 
beard, which he has worn since the later 
period of his sojourn in Guernsey as a safe- 
guard against sore throat, but he shows no 
token of infirmity. His countenance may 
be said to have in it something both of the 
lion and of the eagle, yet his voice is grave, 
and his manner singularly gentle. 

The writer of this record of "Victor Hugo 
and his Time" cannot recall without the 
liveliest pleasure either the receptions in the 
salon or the various tete-d-tite interviews to- 
which he has been admitted. He recollects 
how, on one occasion, the great master de- 
nounced to him the realistic character of 
many modern romances, regarding them as 



VIGTOU HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



34 1> 



unwholesome and degraded, and how, on an- 
other occasion, he spoke with vehemence 
against the inconsistency of the Republic in 
admitting various creatures of the Empire to 
several public oflices ; but neither his literary 
convictions nor his political partialities ever 
really disturbed the calmness of his line of 
thought, and, as he states in the admirable 
letter which stands at the beginning of the 
present volume, his anger has never been 
vented upon anything except wrong. 

As a general rule, his personal enemies do 
not give him much concern; but if a name 
that is specially odious should happen to be 



mentioned, he usually finds words to express 
his aversion. Thus on our incidentally al- 
luding to Merimee, he broke out, 

' ' That man leaves an infaraou.s memory 
behind him. He used his talent to declaim 
about what his heart was too barren to un- 
derstand." 

But such outbursts never seriously affect 
Victor Hugo's habitual serenity; his mind, 
like his books, would seem to be the simple 
unassuming expression of humanity. It is 
the love of humanity that has guided his 
genius, and his genius has made his works 
imperishable. 




250 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXV. 

'L'Art d'6tre Grand-pSre." — Georges aud Jeaune. — Romps, Tales, and Diversious. — "L'Histoire d'un 
Crime." 



A BRIEF chapter must be devoted to Vic- 
tor Hugo's love of children. 

Some few months before the publication 
•of the second series of "La Legende des 
Si&cles" in 1877, the poet published a brill- 
iant production, which he called " L'Art 
d'etre Grand-pfere." It wasa kind of sequel 
to the "Livre des Mfires, ou Livre des En- 
fants," which consisted of a number of ex- 
tracts selected from his works by his ad- 
mirer, Hetzel, who, in introducing his book 
to the public, lauded Victor Hugo's peculiar 
faculty for describing the young, and de- 
clared that his reputation as the most sensi- 
tive and tender of authors stood unrivalled. 
The extracts are full of the merry songs of 
birds and the bright warblings of childhood, 
though at times they are tinged with sorrow 
too. 

Ever considerate for the defenceless, Vic- 
tor Hugo stands up for the rights of women 
and children. While Musset has dedicated 
his strophes to love as a passion, Hugo has 
regarded love as a sacred duty; he speaks 
directly to -the maternal heart, and is con- 
stant in his endeavor to reinstate such as 
have fallen victims to misery or social laws. 
He is pathetic over an infant's cradle, he is 
delighted at childhood's prattle, and to him 
the fair-haired head of innocence is as full of 
interest as the glory of a man. 

Thus beaming, with affection for children 
in general, it is not in the least a matter of 
surprise that he should make his two grand- 
children, Georges and Jeanne, the hero and 
heroine of "L'Art d'etre Grand-pSre," a 
work into which he has thrown the fulness 
■of his genius and the freshness of his love. 

He has been taken to task about the title 
•of the book, and told that there is no place 
for " art " in such a connection, but he has 
met the accusation with a smile; and when 
criticised for his tone of over-indulgence, he 
has replied: 

' ' I own I want to have nothing to do with 

society. You say to me, 'AH roses have 

" thorns.' I say to you, ' You may pluck 



them off if you will;' for myself, I mean to 
inhale the fragrance of the rosebuds." 

It has been suggested that the book might 
more appropriately be called the " PleoMtre 
of Being a Grandfather;" but, remembering 
his own bereavements, and mindful of the 
sorrows of others, he felt that in many quar- 
ters the mention of "pleasure " might sound 
almost like a mockery. 

He claimed the gratification of being in- 
dulgent as a right, agreeing entirely with M. 
Gaucher, who, in an article in the Beime Po- 
litique et lAMeraire, remarks that " a father's 
duties are by no means light; he has to in- 
struct, to correct, to chastise: but with the 
grandfather it is different; he is privileged 
tolflve and to spoil." 

"While the book abounds in many exquisite 
and gentle admonitions, it sparkles with the 
fun and sprightliness of child's play. "While 
the poet inculcates kindness, obedience, and 
charity, he delights to tell how he has ' ' plun- 
dered the housekeeper's jam-pots " for the 
gratification of his little pets, and how he 
was daring enough to distribute between 
them some dishes of strawberries that had 
been put ready for the after-dinner dessert, 
taking care, at the same time, to bid the 
children fetch in some houseless orphans 
that were crouching under the window, and 
make them share the dainty dishes with 
themselves. 

Undaunted as he ever stood against the 
threats and persecutions of political oppo- 
nents, he acknowledged that a child had ever 
the power to overcome him: 

" Behold me by an infant now snbdued !" 

and avowed that he was not ashamed of any 
such humiliation, and sang of the pleasure 
he found in associating with the young, un- 
der the title of " Leetitia Rerum," making it 
his pleasant theme: 

" My children, in the beauty of your eye 
The empyrean bine can I descry ; 
Tour merry laughter like the springtime cheers, 
And like the morning dew-drops fall yonr tears 1" 




MATHA ("LA LEGENDE DES SIECLES "). 
{Draini by J. P. Laurens.) 



353 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



And quite in accordance with wliat he 
wrote in his verse was his personal practice. 
Nothing could exceed his kindness, and no 
one ever took more pains to tell old tales 
and to invent new ones to awaken tlie interest 
of a juvenile audience. 

Some of these tales were full of wonder, 
like "La Bonne Puce et le Roi Mechant," 
that had a very startling moral; some of 



the animal in a state of continual perplex- 
ity- 

Nor was the grandfather-poet ever weary 
of devising little schemes to divert the young 
people, no one being more expert in balanc- 
ing a fork on a decanter-stopper, or carving 
a pig out of a piece of bread, making lu- 
cifer-matches do duty for legs; nor was any 
one more interested in arranging juvenile en- 




GEOEGES AND JEANNE. 
{^^ UArt d'etre Grand-pere.'') 



them were pregnant with instruction, like 
that of the little dog who was transfonned 
into a beautiful angel, because of its fidelity 
to a little girl; and some of them afforded 
infinite amusement, such as the tale of a 
donkey with the two long ears, one of 
which always heard "yes" and the other 
always heard "no," consequently keeping 



tertainments, especially at the season of the 
new year. It was at a Twelfth-night party 
that young Jeanne showed how early she 
had imbibed her grandfather's political opin- 
ions; in the midst of the "drawing of kings," 
which was the specialty of the occasion, 
getting weary of hearing such constant rep- 
etition of " Le roi! le roi I" she mounted on a 



VICTOR nUOO AND HIS TIME. 



253 



chair, and began crying, "Vive la Repub- 
lique!" 

While they were quite young, his little 
grandchildren were allowed to bring their 
cat into the salon before dinner, when the di- 
version in the way of romping would be un- 
limited. The venerable gentleman whom 
they called their "papapa" would permit 
them to pull his fine white beard, and to roll 
themselves over him, laughing heartily as he 
called out, 

' ' Ah ! I see j'ou know what a grandfather 
is made for; he is made to sit upon!" 

As an illustration of his love for domestic 
joys, we may instance his definition of 
Paradise as "a place where children are al- 
ways little and parents are always young." 
Young in his sympathies he has ever been ; 
and it will be reckoned no serious betraj^al 
of secret confidences to say that he has been 
known to carry off a pot of preserves to 



his little Jeanne when she has been shut 
up in disgrace, and that he has made a 
point of refusing to touch his fruit at des- 
sert to show his grief at her having been 
naughty. 

And all this love for the little ones is not 
in the least inconsistent with his detestation 
of the criminalities of the great. Under al- 
most the same inspiration that produced the 
echoes of infantile prattle in the "Art of Be- 
ing a Grandfather," he composed " The His- 
tory of a Crime," a work which was issued 
on the eve of the elections of 1877, and of 
which he said, 

' ' The need of this book is not only present, 
but urgent; therefore I publish it." 

It was just the same intuition into the 
true principle of equity that made him stern 
towards the iniquity of tyrants, and tender 
towards the failings of the weak and the 
inexperience of the young. 




354 



VIOTOB HUGO AND SIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXVI. 

Victor Hugo's Creed.— Belief in the Immortality of the Soul. — Accusation of Being an Atheist.—" Le Pap^e.'" 
— "Religions et Religion." — "La Piti€ Supreme." — "L'Ane." 



We have already said that it is not our 
place to comment upon Victor Hugo's creed. 
What that creed is may he gathered alike 
from his philosophical works and from the 
explanations -which he has himself given in 
relation to it. 

He avows himself a firm heliever in the 
immortality of the soul. A rationalist one 
day said to him, as is related by Madame de 
Girardin, 

"So am I a believer to a certain extent; 
but surely the outcasts of society can have 
no faith in their own immortality !" 

To which Victor Hugo replied, 

"Perhaps they believe in it more than you 
do." 

According to ArsSne Houssaye, the poet 
has given a general exposition of his relig- 
ious creed in something like the following 
terms: 

" I am conscious within myself of the cer- 
tainty of a future life. Just as, in a forest 
that is perpetually felled, young sprouts start 
up Tfvith renewed vigor, so my thoughts ever 
rise higher and higher towards the infinite; 
the earth affords me her generous sap, but 
the heaven irradiates me with the light of 
half -seen worlds. The nearer I approach 
my end, the clearer do I hear the immortal 
symphonies of worlds that call me to them- 
selves. For half a century I have been out- 
pouring my volumes of thought in prose 
and in verse, in history, philosophy, drama, 
romance, ode, and ballad, yet I appear to 
myself not to have said a thousandth part of 
what is within me; and when I am laid in 
the tomb I shall not reckon that my life is 
finished. The grave is not a cul-de-sac, it is an 
avenue; death is the sublime prolongation of 
life, not its dreary finish; it closes on the 
twilight, it opens in the dawn. My work is 
only begun; I yearn for it to become higher 
and nobler; and this craving for the infinite 
demonstrates that there is an infinity." 

And in reply to the argument that those 
powers of his had been generated by Nature, 
the visible mother of occult forces, he said. 



"There are no occult forces; occult force 
was chaos; luminous force is God. Man is 
a reduced copy of God, a duodecimo as it 
were of the gigantic folio; but still the same 
book. Atom as I am, I can still feel that I 
am divine, gifted with divine power because 
I can clear up the chaos that is within me. 
The books I write are worlds of themselves, 
and I say this without a particle of vanity, 
no more cherishing a feeling of pride than a. 
bird that contributes its part to the universal 
song. I am nothing, a passing echo, an 
evanescent cloud; but let me only live on 
through my future existences, let me con- 
tinue the work I have begun, let me sur- 
mount the perils, the passions, the agonies, 
that age after age may be before me, and 
who shall tell whether I may not rise to have 
a place in the council-chamber of the ruler 
that controls all, and whom we own as God?" 

The accusations of being an atheist he has 
met by drawing a satirical picture* of what 
he conceives to be the Catholic representa- 
tion of the Deity, which he concludes by ex- 
claiming, "Yes, priest, I am an unbeliever in. 
such a God," and proceeds to describe the 
God whom he acknowledges to be the per- 
sonification of the true, the just, and the- 
beautiful; who neither constructs nor de- 
stroys religions; who is impalpable, but ev- 
erywhere to be felt ; who is supreme and 



' " S'il agit d'un bonhomme i longue barbe blanche, 

• «««««« 

Dans la nu6e, ayant un oiseau sur la tSte, 
A sa droite un archange, t sa gauche un prophfete,. 
Entre ses bras son ills, p41e et perce de clous, 
Un et triple, fioontaut des harpes, diea jalonx. 

En colore et faisant la moue an genre humain, 
Comrae un P6re DuchSne, un grand sabre h la main ; 
Dieu qui volontiers damne et rarement pardonne ; 
Qui, sur nn passe-droit, cousulte une madone ; 
Diea qui, dans son ciel bleu, se donne le devoir 
D'iraiter nos d^fauts, et le luxe d'avoir 
Dea flSaux, comme on a des chiens, qui trouble 

I'ordre, 
Llche sur nons Nemrod et Cyrus, nous fait mordre- 
Par Cambyse, et nous jette aux jambes Attila : 
PrStre, oui, je enis athee, & ce vieus bon Dieu-lil." 




"LE P^VPE. 



356 



VICTOR HUOO AND HIS TIME. 



unchangeable, an eternal principle, our very 
conscience. 

To develop this creed is the design of sev- 
eral of his later works. In "Le Pape" he 
depicts an ideal pastor making clemency the 
principle of his power, striving ever to be 
gentle and sympathizing with every phase of 
suffering, drawing around him the outcast 
and despised, repudiating infallibility, de- 
nouncing war, delivering the message of 
peace, and thus securing the divine benedic- 
tion on himself. The book stirred up the in- 
dignation of the Catholics, and M. de Brigny 
issued a volume of poetry entitled "Pape 
contre Pape, ou le Pape de Victor Hugo et le 
Pape de I'figlise." In reply to the storm 
that had been raised against him, Victor 
Hugo, in 1879, brought out "La Pitig su- 
preme, " the gist of which was to bespeak par- 
don and pity for such as were tyrants through 
their own ignorance and defective education. 
Like John Huss sighing "Poor man!" over 
the executioner who was kindling the stake, 
the poet here outpours his eager desire to 
rescue 

"The hangman from his torture, and the tyrant from 
his throne." 

Tolerance is the basis of Victor Hugo's 
creed, and this tolerance it was that inspired 
him to write his "Religions et Religion," 
which was published in 1880 with the notice 
prefixed: 

"This book was commenced in 1870, and 
completed in 1880. The year 1870 gave in- 



fallibility to the papacy, and Sedan to the 
Empire. What is the year 1880 to bring 
forth?" 

In this philosophical poem, the poet's 
thoughts turn much to the future; he pro- 
fesses his resolve to be free from subservience 
to superstition; the theme of the book is the 
delineation of what the religions of the world 
seem to be, and of what to his mind true re- 
ligion ought to be: founded solely on moral- 
ity; full of care for the rights, the duties, and 
the sorrows of humanity, and never losing 
sight of the immortality of the soul. 

Prompted by his continued desire to over- 
throw pedantry and to replace it by knowl- 
edge, he has since published " L'Ane," where 
the ass prophesies like Balaam's, and holds 
forth against those whom the author would 
denounce as false teachers. He calls his ass 
"Patience," and, in the daring way that is 
characteristic of his genius, he makes the 
creature trample underfoot the musty libra- 
ries, the illegible manuscripts, and the worn- 
out folios that he maintains have too long 
stifled the progress of the human intellect. 

Louis IJlbach has observed of the book 
that in its pages "the poet, at the climax of 
his life, dazzled though he is by the nearness 
of the dawn beyond, glajnces back at those 
whom he has left behind, addresses them 
with raiUery keen enough to stimulate them, 
but not stern enough to discourage them, 
and from the standpoint of his serenity puts 
a fool's cap upon aU false science, false wis- 
dom, and false piety." 





■nEEKANI," ACT IV. SCENE IT. 
17 



258 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXVII. 

Eevival of "Heiuani."— Banquet in Celebration.i— Eevivals of "Euy Bias," "Notre Dame de Paris," and 
" Les Miserables."— Saint- Victor on Victor Hugo's Vitality.— Banquet at the H6tel Continental, February 
26, 1S80.— Victor Hugo's Speech. 



Although Victor Hugo has outlived tJie 
hostility of adversaries, and now commands 
unbounded respect, persecution long con- 
tinued to pursue him, and during the state 
of siege so long maintained hy the Bordeaux 
Assembly all his dramas were prohibited, 
official instructions on this matter being en- 
forced by military power. Sword in hand. 
General Ladmirault stopped the performance 
of "Le Boi s' Amuse," and it has not since 
appeared upon the stage ; and another official 
had "Le Revenant" erased from the play- 
bills, insisting that nothing of Victor Hugo's 
should be performed without a special li- 
cense, such license to be renewed from even- 
ing to evening. 

But in November, 1877, "Hernani" was 
revived by the Com§die Frangaise, and was 
received with great enthusiasm. The actors 
and actresses proved themselves worthy of 
their task. Mile. Sarah Bernhardt . under- 
took the part originally filled by Mile. Mars, 
and showed herself quite as successful as her 
popular predecessor. 

As an acknowledgment of the talent she 
displayed, Victor Hugo sent the young soeie- 
iaire the following note : 

"Madam, — You were both great and 
charming. I am an old combatant, but at 
the moment when the enchanted people were 
applauding you I confess that I wept. The 
tear drawn forth by yourself is yours ; I lay 
it at your feet. " 

"Hernani" attracted considerable crowds. 
After the hundredth performance, in con- 
formity with custom, the poet gave a dinner, 
and about 200 guests, including the theatrical 
critics, many men of letters, and all the ac- 
tors engaged in the play, met together at the 
Grand H6tel to share the pleasure of a ban- 
quet, at which the great author himself pre- 
sided. His deportment on the occasion could 
not fail to make a deep impression. Noth- 
ing in his manner betrayed the least symp- 



tom of vanity, though an expression of noble 
satisfaction rested on his countenance. 

A rare cordiality reigned in the assembly. 
There were met together representatives of 
journals of the most antagonistic views, 
writers who fought obstinate battles in the 
daily press; but the poet, who, in spite of his 
seventy -five years, set them an example of 
youth, was a living type of Fraternity. Dis- 
cord seemed banished from the midst, and 
one thought animated every heart; the pres- 
ence of the great man they had met to honor 
appeared for the time not merely to realize 
the ideal of a republic of letters, but to exalt 
that republic above the level of human pas- 
sion. 

Similar entertainments were given both 
after the Ijundredth performance of "Ruy 
Bias" and the hundredth performance of 
"Notre Dame de Paris." 

The romance of "Notre Dame de Paris" 
had been dramatized by Frangois Hugo, and 
after this version had been revised by Paul 
Meurice it was performed at the "Thfifttre 
des Nations," where, although Victor Hugo 
endeavored to screen himself from the public 
eye, he was recognized and received an en- 
thusiastic ovation from two thousand spec- 
tators. 

A welcome reception was accorded to the 
play founded upon "Les Miserables," which 
we have already mentioned. 

But the noblest of all the fetes that marked 
the revival of the poet's dramas was that 
which was celebrated at the TheStre Fran- 
pais in 1880, in honor of the fiftieth anni- 
versary of "Hernani," which was esteemed 
as "the golden wedding" of his genius and 
his glory. On the 35th of February, 1830, 
the first representation had been given amid 
the uproar of opposition; and now on the 
35th of February, 1880, the company of the 
Comidie Frangaise, with a glowing pride, 
performed the masterpiece of which it is 
scarcely an exaggeration to declare that it is 
the consumination of artistic beauty. On 




THE "GOLDEN WEDDING" OF -nERNANI. 



360 



no TOR Rxiao and his time. 



this ' occasion it was listened to witli rapt 
attention by an audience tliat included the 
must illustrious men of the day; hut no soon- 
er did the curtain fall than there was an out- 
hurst of vehement applause. 

In a few minutes the curtain rose again, 
and exposed to view a striking bust of Vic- 
tor Hugo elevated on a pedestal profusely 
decorated with wreaths and palm-leaves. 
Behind it were grouped all the actors in the 
play and all the aocietawes of the theatre at- 
tired in the costumes of the poet's leading 
characters, while the back of the stage was 
thronged with ballet-dancers waving the gay- 
est of banners. Sarah Bernhardt, in her char- 
acter of Dona Sol, then stepped forward, and, 
holding a palm-hranch in her hand, recited 
in her peculiarly harmonious and tender 
voice some appropriate verses composed by 
Frangois Copp6e. In her own enthusiasm 
she carried away the vast audience, and the 
applause thundered out louder than before. 

M. Francisque Sarcey, one of the best- 
known dramatic critics, at this moment 
shouted, 

"Rise!" 

The whole house rose at once to their feet, 
and, following the bidding of their leader, 
made the air ring again with their vocifera- 
tions. 

"Ad multos annos! long live Victor 
Hugo!" 

Overcome by his emotion, the poet had 
been obliged to retire. 

And may we not hope that these aspira- 
tions wiU be fulfilled? It is Saint- Victor 
who has written of him: 

"His old-age (if that august maturity 
which is ever green and untarnished can be 
called old-age) never asserts itself except by 
some outburst of rugged strength. Like his 
own Eviradnus, 

" ' He wearies not ; years harden him.' 
He is in his full vigor at the time of life 
when many great intellects have passed into 
their decline. His exceptional mind seems 
to call out an exceptional physique. Lon- 
gevity may be predicted for him. At the 
close of the century the em-men amula/re may 
be chanted by the same voice as hailed its 
dawn." 

Within a few days after the performance 
at the ThgStre Franpais, the Parisian press, 
anxious to testify its regard for the great 
dramatist and author, gave a banquet at the 
H6tel Continental. All the elite of journalism 
were present. Victor Hugo himself presided. 



After dinner M. fimile Augier, an author 
of considerable renown, proposed the toast of 
the evening, dwelling much on the marvellous 
vitality of the noble compositions of the poet. 

" Time, O glorious master," he exclaimed, 
"takes no hold upon you; you know noth- 
ing 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 Bruyfere before the Acadimie 
hailed Bossuet as father of the Church, he 
was speaking the language of posterity, and it 
is posterity itself, thou noble master, that sur- 
rounds you here, and hails you as our father." 

The entire assembly rose, and the room 
echoed with the name of " Father." It was 
the grateful and affectionate homage of sons 
rendered to the genius that overflowed with 
the love of humanity. 

M. Delaunay then spoke a few words on 
behalf of M. EmUe Perrin, who was unable 
to be present, and expressed a hope that the 
assembly would co-operate in soliciting from 
Victor Hugo another new dramatic work. 

The suggestion was greeted with prolonged 
cheering, which became more vehement stUl 
when Sarah Bernhardt came forward and 
embraced the poet with manifest enthusiasm. 

After a short speech from M. Francisque 
Sarcey, who acknowledged that he had once 
been one of the refractory spirits alluded to 
by Emile Augier, Sarah Bernhardt again re- 
cited Franpois Copp§e's verses, and the audi- 
ence subsided into the silence of expectation. 

Victor Hugo rose, and though ever and 
again his words faltered with emotion, he read 
his address of thanks with a full clear voice: 

" I cannot, nor would I, say more than a 
few words. 

"Before me I see the press of France. 
The worthies who represent it here have 
endea,vored 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 cen- 
tury 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 periodi- 
cally repeated with marked significance. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



361 



The 26th of February, 1803, was my birth- 
day; in 1830 it was the time of the first ap- 
pearance of ' Ilernani ;' and this again is the 
26th of February, 1880. Fifty years ago, I 
who now am here speaking to you was hat- 
ed, hooted, slandered, cursed. To-day, to- 
day . . . but the date is enougli. 

"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 influ- 
ence upon every portion of the civilized 
world; its struggles, its disputes, its wrath, 
resolve tliemselves into progress, harmony, 
and peace. In its premeditations it aims at 
truth; from its polemics it flaslies forth light. 



' ' I propose as my toast, ' The prosperity 
of tlie French press, the institution that fos- 
ters such noble designs and renders such no- 
ble services.' " 

The shouts of "Vive Victor Hugo!" broke 
out with tremendous peals of applause, 
which only died away as the company ad- 
journed to the mlo?i, which had been elabo- 
rately decorated with ilowers for the occasion. 

" That evening," wrote Aurelien SchoU 
next day, "was one of the finest spectacles 
imaginable." It was the triumph of the con- 
queror and the trophies of the victory were 
the immortal characters of Esmeralda, Quasi- 
modo, Dona Sol, Didier, Ruy Bias, and Cesar 
de Bazan. 




PON CES.\R DE BASAN ("RUY BLAS "). 



263 



VICT OB HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



CHAPTER XXXVIII. 

Victor Hugo as a Draughtsman.— His First Effort — His Subsequent Progress.— His Admiration of Albert 

Diirer.— Album Published by Castel Letter of Victor Hugo to Castel.— New-year's Gifts. — Caricatures. 

—Victor Hugo's Handwriting.— M. Jules Claretie's Observation. — Destination of Manuscripts. 



The sketclies that have been introduced 
into various pages of this work will have 
given already some idea of Victor Hugo's 
style of drawing, but more special notice is de- 
manded of his singular power as a draughts- 
man. 

In an article published in L'Art in 1875 
M. Ph. Burty has referred to the first draw- 
ing of this " child of genius," the rude figure 
of the bird within the egg-shell, to which we 
have alluded; but there is nothing to show 
that Victor Hugo in his youth occupied him- 
self much with drawing. Of course, like 
other boys at school, he was taught to draw, 
but manifestly the pen had more charms for 
him than the pencil. There was nothing 
at that time to indicate the power that he 
would subsequently develop. He says of 
himself : 

"The first time that I took a sketch from 
nature was after I had reached man's estate. 
I was making an excursion in the environs 
of Paris, travelling with a lady in a diligence. 
In a village near Meulan, if I remember 
right, the vehicle stayed to change horses. I 
alighted, and as we happened to be near the 
church I went inside, and was so much 
struck by the graceful beauty of the apse 
that I made an attempt to copy some of the 
details. My hat served for an easel. I had 
only about ten minutes at my disposal, but 
when I was summoned back I had so far 
finished my sketch that it was a very fair 
souvenir of the place. Then for the first 
time I realized how beneficially copying from 
nature might be combined with my literary 
pursuits. The lady travelling with me asked 
me whether I intended to be an artist, and 
we laughed together at the suggestion; but 
the incident was a happy -circumstance for 
me, and I have ever since delighted in sketch- 
ing architectural peculiarities of fabrics that 
remain in the original design and have not 
been 'improved' by modem handling. 
Architecture is often a witness to the climate 
of a district : a gabled roof tells of the preva- 



lence of rain; a flat roof, of sunshine; and a 
roof weighted heavily with stones, of wind." 

But though drawing never became Victor 
Hugo's occupation, it grew more and more 
to be his recreation. By perpetually scrib- 
bling designs, either to employ his leisure mo- 
ments, to fix some impression on his memory, 
or to amuse children, the desultory draughts- 
man trained himself into a striking artist. 
He is a visionary served by a hand that is 
singularly obedient, and that reproduces a 
conception much as the key-board of an in- 
strument becomes the interpreter of the mind 
of a musician. M. MeauUe, who has en- 
graved the illustrations given in this volume, 
not inaptly designates his style as the " hedge- 
school " style, implying that it is of a char- 
acter that he has picked up promiscuously 
and by himself. 

He has never had recourse to any patient 
and systematic teaching. Often as a mere 
relaxation for a weary mind he will scratch 
down a few random lines; soon they will 
bear the outline of a cloud; below the cloud 
a turret will appear, then a castle will reveal 
itself, and the scene will begin to be trans- 
formed into' a ruin in a landscape dark as 
Walpurgis, dimly mingled with light and 
shade. For these vagaries anything will 
serve for a starting-point, and a chance blot 
of ink will soon be subject to the most start- 
ling metamorphoses, art coming in to finish 
what fancy has begun. 

"My inkstand," he says, " is generally my 
palette; if I want a lighter shade, a glass of 
water is my only requisite, though a few 
drops of coffee are occasionally very useful." 

So skilful, however, is his hand that, i;j 
spite of the simplicity of his material, he has 
produced much upon which the most illus- 
trious artists have lavished their unqualified 
praise. 

Almost all his drawings are commentaries 
upon his thoughts. Unlike Hoffmann, who 
used his pencil to assist his fancy, Victor 
Hugo employs it to develop his poems and 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



263 



to illustrate his own literary creations. In a 
word, he has the faculty which M. Thiers has 
described as "common alike to a painter and 
an author, the artistic imagination that may he 
characterized as the imagination of design." 
It is impossible to make any direct com- 
parison between Victor Hugo's drawings and 
those of any other artist, though, we know 
from his own statement which of the old 
masters he admires most, since he has apos- 
trophized Albert Diirer as his model, 

" O Diirer, mnster mine, painter old imd pensive !" 

Many of his compositions attest his ad- 
miration for the hanks of the Rhine, with 
their castles and ruins, and their recolleclion 
seems continually to haunt him. He has a 
loving veneration for the Middle Ages, which 
in a marvellous manner he has, as it were, re- 
called to life ; he takes an evident delight in 
the dilapidated fabrics, the crumbling ceil- 
ings and the broken muUions, deprecating 
from his very soul all modern attemj)ts to 
restore them. 

Theophile Gautier has no hesitation in as- 
sociating Victor Hugo with the masters of 
the romantic school. "M. Hugo, "he writes, 
"is not only a poet, he is a painter, and a 
painter whom Louis Boulanger, C. Roque- 
plan, or Paul Huet would not refuse to own 
as a brother in art. Whenever he travels he 
makes sketches of everything that strikes his 
eye. The outline of a hill, a break in the 
horizon, an old belfry — any of these will suf- 
fice for a subject of a rough drawing, which 
the same evening will see worked up well- 
nigh to the finish of an engraving, and the 
object of unbounded surprise even to the 
most accomplished artists." 

Many of his early drawings were collected 
into an album by Castel, the publisher, who 
received from him the following letter : 

"Hautkvilt.e House, October, 1862. 
"My deak M. Castbl, — You say that you 
have obtained possession of a number of my 
old scraps, collected from the margins of my 
manuscripts, and that you wish to publish 
• them, and, moreover, that M. Paul Chenay 
offers to produce fac-similes of them. And 
now you ask for my consent. I can only 
say that I am very much afraid, in spite of 
all M. Chenay's talent, that these scrawls, 
clumsily put on paper by a literary man pre- 
occupied by his work, will cease to have 
any claim to be considered drawings the 
very moment they assert their pretensions. 



Nevertheless, as you insist upon it, I suppose 
I must yield to your request." 

And after explaining that the proceeds of 
the sale would be devoted to his work among 
poor children, he adds : 

' ' I should never have imagined that these 
scraps of mine would have attracted the at- 
tention of such a connoisseur as yourself. 
But do as you please with them; I abandon 
them to their fate; and, whatever criticism 
may decide upon them elsewhere, I feel sure 
that my poor dear little children will think 
them very good. " 

A preface was written for the album by 
Thfeophile Gautier, and it sold very well. 
Another and more valuable album has been 
for some time in preparation, the text of 
which was intended to be from the hand of 
the lamented Paul de Saint- Victor, and an 
edition of " Les Travailleurs de la Mer," with 
illustrations by the master hirnself, is to ap- 
pear before long. 

Victor Hugo does not confine himself to 
drawing old buildings, but has made many 
landscapes. M. Auguste Vacquerie possesses 
a number of land and sea pieces bearing the 
poet's own signature, some of them having 
been given him as presents; others he has 
received in exchange for mediaeval caskets, 
which Victor Hugo delights in collecting ; and 
a few of them he has won in games at 
draughts. Prom the sale in the Rue de La 
Tour d'Auvergne he procured a very re- 
markable sepia drawing. It was executed 
between 1848 and 1851, and represents Paris 
by moonlight. 

Many more of his productions still remain 
at Hauteville House. Moreover, it has been 
his habit for some years past to send a water- 
color drawing on New - year's - day to some 
of his more intimate friends. That which 
was received by Saint- Victor in 1868 repre- 
sented a burnt-down village, devastated by 
bombs, stained with blood — a conspicuous 
object in it being a child's empty cradle; it 
has the inscription written below " Organi- 
sation Militaire. " 

M. Burty likewise has a drawing entitled 
"L'flclair," which he received from the ex- 
ile with a characteristic message : 

' ' My drawings, or what are called so, are 
somewhat wild. If this one is too diflicult 
for you to engrave, select another. In my 
undisciplined way, I use the feather of my 
pen as much as, its point." 

Madame Lockroy and Madame Drouet also 



264 



VICTOR HUGO AND lUS TIME. 



are in possession of Iceepsakes of this liind, 
and in Paul Meurice's study is a large sepia 
drawing representing a strong fortified city. 
This was done during the siege. 

Many a time has Victor Hugo been a mod- 
el to his artist friends. Painters and sculp- 
tors have vied with each other in reproducing 
his noble and powerful head, and it is inter- 
esting to trace from their labors the gradual 
change that has marked the character of his 
striking features. 

M. Aglails Bouvenne has edited a curious 
catalogue of the portraits and caricatures of 
Victor Hugo from 1837 to 1879. The cari- 
catures are about a hundred in number, 
and, undoubtedly, some of them are very 
humorous. Those by Daumier are irrever- 
ent enough; but the general run of them, 
particularly the later ones, imply as much of 
veneration as of satire. The caricaturists, 
Indeed, may be said to have paused before 
the conviction of his greatness; Victor Hugo, 
for his part, was always ready to concede to 
them every reasonable license. 

Akin to the subject of his drawing, al- 
though of somewhat inferior interest, is that 
of the poet's handwriting, to which a brief 
space may be here devoted. 



VICTOR Hugo's hai^d. 

(From a Pkotor/raph hy Aitijuste Vacquerie.) 

This writing has undergone a considerable 
change. In his younger days it was very 
small and close, but by degrees it has become 
decidedly larger, as we ourselves have had 
the opportunity of judging from the perusal 
of many of his manuscripts, of which it is 




said M. Jules Claretie intends publishing a 
description. 

In reply to Michelet, who suggested that 
books might be printed just as they were 
written, with all the erasures exhibited, so 
that the various phases of the author's mind 
might be seen in the handwriting, M. Claretie 
says: 

"Victor Hugo's manuscripts might serve 
as a model of the ' nutographe inqirime' of 
which Michelet dreamed. They exhibit the 
poet as he really was, writing down his in- 
spirations upon any scrap of paper that came 
to hand, thus immortalizing the green pla- 
card on which he jotted down the poem in 
' Les Feuilles d'Automne ' which begins, 

" O mes letti-es cVamoui-, de veitu, cle jeunesse !' 

a poem which will endure for centuries to 
come. 

" Under the hands of the great poet, what 
was mere waste paper, designed to be thrown 
awaj', has become worthy of perpetual pres- 
ervation. 

■ ' As a great favor, I have been allowed to 
peruse these precious documents, and I find 
that they contain many readings that are as 
curious as they are interesting. Paul Meu- 
rice has specified many of these. Victor 
Hugo may be said to be here seen en dealm- 
Mlle, but his genius loses nothing thereby. 
To judge from the manuscript of ' Les Orien- 
tales,' it is evident that the lines were com- 
posed while he was out walking, and writ- 
ten down immediately on his return. Noth- 
ing is easier for me than to imagine how he 
would come in from his walk, and, ascertain- 
ing that dinner was not on the table, would 
make use of the minutes while the cook 
wa,s dishing up the soup, to write down 
upon some loose scrap of jsaper that was 
ready at hand verses wonderful as ' La Cap- 
tive ' and ' Lazzara.' He writes on anything 
and everything." 

Since 1840 he has been in the habit of 
using small folio paper, which he has pur- 
chased for himself in the ordinary way ; and 
which is not, as has been reported, the gift 
of a generous and admiring stationer. He' 
still continues to write with quill pens, and 
his handwriting remains firm and well form- 
ed. Very few erasures are found in his 
work. By his will he has bequeathed all his 
manuscripts to the Bibliothfeque Nationale, 
where they will be preserved, and will form 
a treasure of priceless value. 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



265 



CHAPTER XXXIX. 

Eetuement from Senatorial Life.- He-elected in 1S76.— Recent Political Sentiments.— Speech at Chateau 
d'Eau — Conversation at Home.— Anticipations for the Future. 



Although Victor Hugo was repeatedly 
solicited to stand for election to the As- 
sembly, we have already recorded how he 
remained aloof from political life. In 1873, 
the Lyons electors urged him to come for- 
ward, but he declined, because he was un- 
willing to do anything to compromise the 
cause of the amnesty, and considered that 
he could best serve the Republic by merg- 
ing his own individuality. When he was 
selected as a delegate of the Paris muni- 
cipal council for the senatorial elections, 
he issued an address to the French com- 
munes, calling upon them to consolidate a 
government which should make all men 
brethren. 

On the 5th of February, 1876, he was 
elected senator for the Seine at the second 
ballot, being fourth out of five candidates. 
He took his seat with the extreme Left, and 
at the first sitting brought forward a motion 
for a full amnesty for the condemned Com- 
munists. The motion was rejected; the time 
for pardon had not yet arrived. 

As a senator he took part most conscien- 
tiously in every serious debate, giving his 
vote upon every question that was at all im- 
portant. His recent political opinions are 
the result of patient observation and long 
experience. 

In order to give a just view of his present 
sentiments in political matters, we may be 
permitted first to give a resume of a speech 
which he delivered not long since at Ch8- 
teau d'Eau on behalf of the Workmen's 
Congress at Marseilles; and to follow this by 
an account of his view of the political situa- 
tion, as he has himself expressed it in the 
course of private conversation. 

"For four hundred years," he said, "the 
human race has not made a step but what 
has left its plain vestige behind. We enter 
now upon great centuries. The sixteenth 
century will be known as the age of paint- 
ers, the seventeenth will be termed the age 
of writers, the eighteenth the age of philos- 



ophers, the nineteenth the age of apostles and 
prophets. To satisfy the nineteenth century, 
it is necessary to be the painter of the six- 
teenth, the writer of the seventeenth, the 
philosopher of the eighteenth; and it is also 
necessary, like Louis Blanc, to have the in- 
nate and holy love of humanity which con- 
stitutes an apostolate, and opens up a pro- 
phetic vista into the future. In the twen- 
tieth century war will be dead, the scaffold 
will be dead, animosity will be dead, royalty 
will be dead, and dogmas wiU be dead; but 
Man will live. For all there will be but 
one countr}' — that country the whole earth; 
for all there will be but one hope— that hope 
the whole heaven. 

"All hail, then, to that noble twentieth 
century which shall own our children, and 
which our children shall inherit ! 

"The great question of the day is the 
question of labor. The political question is 
solved. The Republic is made, and nothing 
can unmake it. The social question remains ; 
terrible as it is, it is quite simple; it is a 
question between those who have, and those 
who have not. The latter of these two 
classes must disappear, and for this there is 
work enough. Think a moment! man is 
beginning to be master of the earth. If you 
want to cut through an isthmus, you have 
Lesseps; if you want to create a sea, you 
have Roudaire. Look you; there is a peo- 
ple and there is a world ; and yet the people 
have no inheritance, and the world is a des- 
ert. Give them to each other, and you make 
them happy at once. Astonish the universe 
by heroic deeds that are better than wars. 
Does the world want conquering? No, it is 
yours already; it is the property of civiliza- 
tion; it is already waiting for you; no one 
disputes your title! 

"Go on, then, and colonize. If you re- 
quire a sea, make it; and the sea will beget 
navigation, and navigation wiU bring cities 
into being. Only find the man that really 
wants a plot of land, and then say to him. 



366 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



' Take it; the land is yours; take it, and cul- 
tivate it.' 

"These plains around you are magnifi- 
cent; they are worthy to he French, because 
they have heen Koman. They have relapsed 
into barbarism, and next into savagery. Do 
away with them. Kestore Africa to Europe ; 
and, by the same stroke, restore to one com- 
mon life the four mother-nations — Greece, 
Italy, Spain, and France. Make the Mediter- 
ranean once more the centre of history. Add 
England to the fourfold fraternity of nations ; 
associate Shakespeare with Homer. 

"Meanwhile, be prepared for resistance. 
Deeds mighty as these must provoke opposi- 
tion. Isthmuses severed, seas transported, 
Africa made habitable, these are undertak- 
ings that can only be commenced in the face 
of sarcasm and ridicule. All this must be 
expected. It is a novel experiment; and 
sometimes those who make the worst mis- 
takes are those who ought to be the least 
mistaken. Forty - five years ago, M. Thiers 
declared that the railway would be a mere 
toy between Paris and Saint - Germain ; an- 
other distinguished man, M. Pouillet, confi- 
dently predicted that the apparatus of the 
electric telegraph would be consigned to a 
cabinet of curiosities. And yet these two 
playthings have changed the course of the 
world. 
' "Have faith, then; and let us realize our 
equality as citizens, our fraternity as men, 
our liberty in intellectual power. Let us 
love not only those who love us, but those 
who love us not. Let us learn to wish to 
benefit all men. Then everything will be 
changed; truth will reveal itself; the beauti- 
ful will arise; the supreme law will be ful- 
filled, and the world shall enter upon a per- 
petual /efe day. I say, therefore, have faith! 

"Look down at your feet, and you see 
the insect moving in the grass; look up- 
wards, and you will see the star resplendent 
in the firmament; yet what are they doing? 
They are both at their work: the insect is do- 
ing its work upon the ground, and the star 
is doing its work in the sky. It is an infinite 
distance that separates them, and yet while 
it separates unites. They follow their law. 
And why should not their law be ours ? 
Man, too, has to" submit to universal force, 
and inasmuch as he submits in body and in 
soul, he submits doubly. His hand grasps 
the earth, but his soul embraces heaven; 
like the insect, he is a thing of dust, but like 
the star he partakes of the empyrean. He 



labors and he thinks. Labor is life, and 
thought- is light!" 

Such sentiments as these, it may well be 
imagined, were received, when they were de- 
livered, with unbounded admiration, and are 
quoted to illustrate the poet's glowing aspi- 
rations for the future. 

And in his own house Victor Hugo has 
just the same fascinating way of setting 
forth the opinions that he entertains. The 
present writer, having one day asked him 
what he thought of the existing condition of 
things in France, had the pleasure of hearing 
him confirm the views of the foregoing 
speech, and dwell upon the prospect which 
he believes is before his country. 

Of course, it is impossible to reproduce 
the charm of the poet's language, but the 
tenor of- his thoughts may be faithfully rep- 
resented in the following summary : 

According to his view, the Republic as it 
now exists is an acceptable Republic, and 
M. Jules Grevy, its president, is animated by 
intentions that are upright and praiseworthy. 
Although there is no close intimacy between 
the two men, they regard one another with 
respect and sympathy. 

The poet holds that we are now in posses- 
sion of a bourgeoise Republic, which is not an 
ideal one, but which will undergo a slow 
but gradual transformation. Its present 
stage is indispensable, because for a form of 
government that shall be capable of being 
brought to perfection it is essential to at- 
tach to it aU who have hitherto had any 
share in directing public affairs; and the 
actual head of the State is a man of such 
rectitude of judgment and honesty of pur- 
pose that he may well inspire the completest 
confidence. 

To this assertion Victor Hugo added the 
remark that he did not consider it the place 
of men of his time of life to take the lead in 
public matters. He regards himself and his 
contemporaries as having been pioneers and 
monitors, whose advice is worth obtaining, 
because they have gained their knowledge 
by experience, having lived through the 
struggles of the past ; but whose theories 
cannot be put into practice by themselves. 
They are old, and the reins of government 
should be placed in the hands of men of a 
younger generation. They belong to the 
nineteenth century; the future solution of 
the social question belongs to the twentieth. 

That solution, he declares, will be found in 
nothing less than the universal spread of 



VICTOR HUGO AND UIS TIME. 



367 



instruction; it will follow the formation of 
new schools where salutary knowledge shall 
be imparted. Hitherto the teaching has been 
positivelj' bad, as is demonstrated by the fact 
that a father, upon mature retiection, always 
has to say to his son, " Forget what I have 
made you learn." The great aim in instruc- 
tion should be unity and truth. For this, 
in due time, the suitable lesson-books will lie 
forthcoming. These will replace the manu- 
als of the present century, although the pres- 
ent century is already in advance, having 
taken a stride, and made a beginning in il- 
luminating humanity. By educating t)ic 
child, yovi endow the man, and thencef(n- 
ward, after that is brought about, you may 
proceed to exercise severe repression iipon 
any one who resists what is right, because 
you have already trained him so that he can- 
not plead ignorance in his own behalf. 

And are we to expect a Utopia, he asks, 
as soon as this endowment of knowledge is 
conferred? Certainly not. When we think 
of the progress of .science and of the im- 
mense forces of nature, of those mighty cur- 
rents that have hitherto remained uniUilized 
in the vast tide, now despised, l)ut hereafter 
to be brought into service, we liecome con- 
vinced that human efforts have been expend- 
ed to no purpose. A great step has been 
alrcadj' made; and when the time shall arri\'e 
that it is no longer requisite for man thus ti> 
throw awa3r his time and strength, what will 
then be wanted lo make him hap|)y as man 
may be? He will require laud to cultivate. 



Then, too, it will be possible to say, "You 
require land ; take the land! here is what 
will be for your advantage!" Distance no 
longer will be an obstacle; prolific conti- 
nents, such as the whole interior of Africa, 
are destined erelong to be conquered by 
civilization. 

Moreover, in the co\u'se of the coming cen- 
tury, frontiers, so to speak, will have disap- 
peared, for the idea of fraternity is making 
its way throughout the world. Here the 
land is the monopolj' of the few; far away 
it is owned by none. He who jiossesses 
none in the laud of bis birth must not hesi- 
tate to depart and become a proprietor in a 
eoimtry that no longer seems distant. The 
whole earth belongs to all men. 

None are so unhappy as the idle; none so 
dissatisfied as those who persist in doing 
nothing for themselves; but these, thanks to 
salutary teaching, will gradually become 
fewer and fewer. A goodly future is dawn- 
ing. It is impossible that the labors of cen- 
turies should forever remain unproductive. 

In this way, only in his own unrivalled 
manner, he pours out his belief in the fut- 
ure of humanity ; and if there be those 
who regard ^'ictor Hugo's creed as blind 
credulity, and are disposed to treat his 
aspirations as visionary delusions, we can 
only say of such tliat they are themselves 
the losers. It is a bright creed and an en- 
couraging, and is based upon the prospect 
of emancipation, uprightness, and comiug 
happiness. 




268 



VICTOR HUGO AND Hlti TIME. 



CHAPTER XL. 

Present Residence of the Poet.— Domestic Habits.— Economy of Time.— Fete of Febraary 27, 1881.— Proces- 
sion of Children.— Address of Corpoi-ations. —Speech in Heply.— Illnmination of Theatres.— The Poet's 
Coutiuned Work. — Works yet to Appear Conclusion. 



Since 1878 the poet has resided at No. 130 
Avenue d'Eylau, at one end of Passy, near 
the Bois de Boulogne, in a part that is not 
yet completely huilt over, and which is in 
such a transition state that it can be called 
neither town nor country. His house is semi- 
detached, and adjoins that which is occupied 
■by M. and Mme. Lockroy and Georges and 
Jeanne. There is a communication between 
the two residences, so that he may literally 
be said to be under the same roof as his 
belongings. 

Throughout the neighborhood his house is 
familiarly described as "the house with the 
great veranda;" this veranda being glazed, 
and thus affording a shelter from the rain 
for any passers-by. The house is three 
stories high, and the study is on the first 
floor, where the poet lives in what may be 
said to be almost a bower, looking out on 
one side in the direction of the avenue, and 
on the other towards a pleasant garden, with 
a lawn surrounded by flowers and shaded 
by noble trees. From a small fountain a lit- 
tle stream trickles down, in which Jeanne's 
white ducks are constantly paddling about. 
A flight of steps leads down to the garden, 
and at the top of the steps is a glazed cor- 
ridor leading into the salon. At the end of 
the corridor is the fine bust of Victor Hugo 
executed by his friend David, and in the 
library is an admirable portrait painted by 
Bonnat. The apartments are decorated with 
some rare and valuable tapestry, and the fur- 
niture throughout is highly elaborate. 

Except there is a party of children, the 
number of guests that he entertains at his 
table never exceeds twelve, and his abode is 
still the resort of all of any repute in litera- 
ture, science, art, or politics. These limited 
daily gatherings are now his sole recreation; 
he no longer dines out, but his own invita- 
tions are given with singular impartiality 
and the most cordial spirit. Sometimes it 
is Gambetta and sometimes it is Rochcfort 
that arrives to partake of his hospitality; 



and ladies are always found at his table, as, 
according to his judgment, a dinner from 
which ladies are excluded loses all its 
charm. 

As a host he is, as we have observed, al- 
ways delightful; his reminiscences extend 
from the beginning of the century, his man- 
ners are polished, and to the courtly dignity 
of a French peer he unites the affability of a 
kind and genial companion. His advancing 
age seems to bring him no depression; he 
speaks calmly of the short time that remains 
to liim, and talks of the wide projects which 
his brain has yet to conceive. In this re- 
spect he is unlike Lamartine; he makes no 
attempt to ignore his age, and makes no apol- 
ogy for wearing spectacles. 

Victor Hugo has never given up his habit 
of early rising; he nearly always quits his 
bed at five o'clock, remaining in his bedroom, 
which has become his favorite place of study, 
as being more quiet and retired than any 
other apartment. His bed is perfectly hori- 
zontal, and he uses neither bolster nor pillow. 
Among these minor details, we may mention 
that he has never accustomed himself to the 
use of an overcoat, and has never carried an 
umbrella; the absence of these precautions 
has resulted in more than one severe cold, 
and it is only within the last few years that 
he has yielded to the advice of an eminent 
physician, and abandoned the cold bath 
which it was his habit to take every morn- 
ing. He has never been a smoker. 

After dinner he still retains his habit of 
receiving his friends in the salon, and as the 
visitors arrive, more serious conversation is 
generally laid aside for lighter topics. In 
the midst of the social enjoyment of the even- 
ing a philosophic friend, thinking to carry 
on an argument that had been commenced 
at the dinner-table, asked him, 

What, then, do you think is a proper def- 
inition of wrong?" 

"Why," said the poet, " I think it would 
be ' wrong ' to speak of ' wrong ' now, when 




VTCTOU HUGO'S GAKDEN IN THE AVENUE D BYI,AU. 



270 



VIC r on HUGO and his time. 



we ought to be enjoying the society of the 
ladies." 

His cheerfulness is perpetual. He has not, 
however, the same strain put upon his social 
powers as he had in the Kue de Clichy. His 



Altogether he has much to which he 
must attend, notwithstanding that he has 
ceased to open for himself the numerous 
letters which pour in day after day, and has 
learned to rely upon the assistance of his 




VICTOK HUGO IN HIS STUDY. 
[A Sketch from Nature &y M. Regamey. ) 



residence is not so central, and he has no vis- 
itors after midnight ; consequently, he retires 
earlier. In 1878 he found an acceptable res- 
pite from all receptions in a few weeks' visit 
to Guernsey. 



secretary, Eichard Lesclide, and Madame 
Drouet. In this way, only matters of real 
importance are brought to his personal no- 
tice. 
His age, with relation to his pursuits, more 



^,t.-*^A**,'Sjr'-« 







273 



VICTOR HUGO AND MI8 TIME. 



than justifies the remark that he is accus- 
tomed to malce with a smile, 

"I have no longer any time to waste." 

Our task is done. By the aid of such ma- 
terial as has come within our reach, we have 
endeavored to present a faithful portrait. 
But 

"A poet is a world shut up within a man," 
and Victor Hugo alone could portray Victor 
Hugo. He advances in years like the sturdy 
oak; or rather, perhaps we might say, he is 
like one of those stately tropical trees which, 
though bearing the weight of centuries, sends 
forth rohust branches and giant foliage, gath- 
ers creepers round its bark, spreads its shade 
and diCEuses its sweetness far around, thus 
uniting strength with grace, and compelling 
the tribute of admiration. 

This marvellous existence has not yet 
reached its limit. 

As an introduction to this history we gave 
a record of the fete at Besangon, the city of 
the poet's birth, and it appqars to be an ap- 
propriate denouement to our work to relate 
the circumstances of the fete that was cele- 
brated in his honor in Paris on the 37th of 
February, 1881. 

A few days before Victor Hugo's birthday, 
M. Bazire made a proposition in Le Becm- 
marehais that the people of Paris should be 
invited to celebrate the occasion by paying 
their respects to him at his house. 

M. Jeannin, the editor of LeBeaumarchais, 
readily entered into the scheme, and very 
quickly, through his exertions, not only the 
capital, but the nation at large, began to de- 
vise what form the tribute of homage should 
assume. A committee was forthwith form- 
ed, and deputations hastened up from every 
quarter. Kepresentatives came from Lon- 
don, Vienna, Pesth, and Brussels; and flow- 
ers, scarce as they were at that season of the 
year, were contributed with boundless pro- 
fusion. 

The fete was fixed for the f ollovring Sun- 
day, the 37th. 

On the Saturday evening previous, Victor 
Hugo's salon was crowded with an unusual 
number of his friends, and M. Jules Ferry, 
the President of the Council, accompanied by 
his secretary, M. Rambaud, arrived with a 
magnificent S6vres vase, which he presented 
to the poet, making a brief and appropriate 
speech in the name of the government of the 
French Republic. 



By ten o'clock next morning a long line 
of people in holiday attire began to make 
their way to the Avenue d'Bylau, which was 
hung with flags. Platforms were erected 
along it, and Victor Hugo's house was dec- 
orated so profusely both inside and out with 
the flowers that had been sent for the pur- 
pose that it had the aspect of a vast bower. 
One of the most exquisite of the wreaths was 
contributed by the Coraedie Fran9aise, and 
was surrounded with banners emblazoned 
with the names of the great author's dramas. 
A procession was formed of little girls taste- 
fully attired, and bearing a banner inscribed 
"L'Art d'etre Grand-pSre," with which they 
entered the salon, where they were received 
with the greatest delight by the venerable 
man and his two grandchildren. One of the 
girls recited some verses that had been com- 
posed by M. Catulle Mendfis, upon which 
Victor Hugo embraced her affectionately, 
saying, "In embracing one of you, I embrace 
you all. " After this they all retired into the 
street, where they were joined by an im- 
mense number of the children of various 
schools, and Victor Hugo showed himself at 
the window while the youthful multitude 
made the air ring again with their merry 
voices. 

Immediately after this, the hero of the day 
received an address which was delivered by 
M. Dommartin in the name of the Belgian 
press; and shortly before noon the munici- 
pal cortege left the Place de I'Arc de Tri- 
omphe, which was the general rendezvous 
for the many corporations that were to file 
before the house. Standing at his window, 
he made them a brief speech. He said : 

" It is not in my own name, for I am noth- 
ing, but in the name of every one who posses- 
ses life or reason, or love, or hope, or power of 
thought, that I give my greeting this day to 
Paris. It is Paris that I hail with my heart 
and soul. From time to tiriie history has set 
upon certain cities a mark that is unique. 
And during 4000 years there have been three 
cities that may claim to be signalized as the 
headquarters of civilization. There have 
been Athens and Rome, and now there is 
Paris. What Athens was to Grecian an- 
tiquity, and what Rome was to Roman antiq- 
uity, such is Paris to Europe, to America — 
nay, to the whole civilized globe. Who 
speaks to Paris speaks to the world; he 
speaks urbi et orbi. 

"And what am I but a humble wayfarer 
among you all? I have only my own share 




THE poet's house ON FBBRUART 27, 1881. 
18 



274 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



in your lot ; and as one of yourselves, In the 
name of all the cities of Europe and America, 
from Athens to New York, from London to 
Moscow, I salute and extol, as I love, the 
sacred city of Paris!" 

While this address was being delivered the 
whole of the procession kept in motion. 



of their land. It would take long to enumer- 
ate the elements of that marvellous crowd 
assembled to pay their tribute of respect to 
the bard of humanity ; there were repre- 
sentatives of every class — students from the 
halls of arts and sciences, and deputations 
from all the great Lycees, many of them car- 




THE CHTLDKEN'S SKEBTING. 



Hail was falling, and it was bitterly cold. 
Yet no one seemed to regard the weather. 
The poet stood bareheaded at the window, 
his grandchildren beside him, and the whole 
concourse defiled past the house. There 
were not less than half a million people 
■who thus thronged to pay their homage to 
the poet whom they honored as the glory 



rying wreaths of flowers as they marched 



One great stream flowed towards the Tro- 
cadero, where a performance had been ar- 
ranged of portions of the poet's plays, the 
proceeds of which were devoted to the poor. 
For this the leading artistes of the day had 
volunteered their services. M. Louis Blanc 



VICTOR HUGO AND HIS TIME. 



375 



made a speech, recounting the incomparable 
services •which the noble poet had rendered 
to their national literature. M. Coquelin 
also recited some laudatory verses that had 
been specially composed by TModore de 
Banville. 

All through the hours of the performance 
the crowd kept passing along before the 
poet's window, and it was not until it was 
quite dusk that he could retire to his saHon, 
which by that time was full of friends who 
had come to congratulate him on his proud 
enjoyment. In the course of the evening he 
said to some ladies, 

"I feel as if I were only twenty to-day." 

Messages from every quarter throughout 
the length and breadth of France were pour- 
ing in all day, and many provincial towns 
had their own fete in recognition of the na- 
tional rejoicing. 

All the theatres were illuminated in the 
evening, and many verses were recited to 
celebrate the poet's honor. 

Such are some of the principal details of 
the festival which was observed to testify 
the universal admiration of one whom fimile 
Augier has worthily called "the father of 
literature." His name has been adopted in 
the street nomenclature of various towns, 
and the Place d'Eylau is now the Place Vic- 
tor Hugo, and has since been marked by the 
erection of his statue. 

And Victor Hugo's labors are not ended 
yet. No ovation so satisfies him as to in- 
duce him to lay aside his work. His youth 
asserts itself as perpetual, his strength of in- 
tellect still demonstrates itself to be prodig- 
ious. Since the fete of 1881 the appearance 
of " Les Quatre Vents de I'Esprit " has again 



borne witness to his magic power, and other 
surprises are still in reserve: already com- 
pleted, though not yet published, are " Toute 
la Lyre," two volumes of poetry; " La Vi- 
sion du Dante," " La Fin de Satan;" and the 
third part of "La Legende des Sifecles." 
Besides these, there are " Torquemada," a 
poetical drama in five acts; "L'!6pee," also 
in verse; and two comedies, "La Grand'- 
miSre " and "La ForW Mouillge." Not that 
the list of his unpublished works is thus 
complete, for, at his own request, we have 
inspected his long accumulating hoard of 
manuscripts, and have found many which 
hereafter wiU see the light. 

And what more is to be added? We must 
append the praise that all his writings have 
been devoted to the cause of humanity. 
The multitude and variety of his works yield 
their testimony to his unparalleled industry; 
but it is the glory of them all that they 
are faithful witnesses to his belief in right, 
his horror of meanness, his contempt of 
injustice, his truth, his integrity, and his 
courage. 

As his mind became emancipated from its 
early trammels, his genius soared aloft like 
an eagle in its flight. Pate has allotted him 
his share of suffering; but every storm that 
has passed over him has only left him more 
calm and gentle. The coiu-se of time seems 
reluctant to touch his venerable head, and 
there are those who venture to indulge the 
hope that he may survive to preside over the 
centenary of the Eevolution of 1789. 

His old-age is full of honor. He has lived 
long enough to witness his own apotheosis; 
already he enjoys the glory of immortality, 
even though he has not ended his mortal days. 



THE END. 



BY VICTOR HUGO. 



Ninety-Three. 



Ninety-Three. A Novel. By Victor Hugo, Author of " Toilers of the Sea," 
" Les Mi86rables," &c. Translated by Frank Lbb Benedict. 8vo, Paper, 25 
cents; 12iuo, Cloth, $1 75. 



The types In "Ninety-Three" are many and 
grand. They remind us of Jean Valjean, of En- 
jolras, of that legion of august and legendary 
characters which he has created. Gauvain is 
the staunch, ardent Bepublican of the Danton 
cast, seeking in clemency and union, rather than 
in repression and inflexibility, the means of mar- 
shalling Republican France under one banner. 
Lantenac is a magnificent embodiment of the 
last Bretons. Cimourdain is th^ true incarna- 
tion in Revolution of what Lantenac is in Roy- 
alism. Sergeant Radonb gives a capital idea of 
the dare-devil Parisians of the Revolutionary time 
— rough, good-natured, and brave to foolhardi- 
ness — who made head against the coalescent 
armies of Europe. — Athenwum, London. 

Beautiful sayings, true and noble thoughts, 
inexpressibly tender sentiments, are just as abun- 



dant. We need not refer to them ; they will be 
discovered and made much of, as they deserve 
to be. This woik is written with no abatement 
of the vigor of his manhood : it is full of inven- 
tion, artistic cunning, and a wafting wind that 
is not to be resisted. Hugo has but to lay his 
finger on children to make them adorable, and 
such a voyage autour de la chambre as the three 
little ones perform in the library of the tower of 
the Tourgue, when the storming of the chateau 
is in preparation and the shadow of a terrible 
destiny hangs over them, could only have been 
imagined by this poet of children and powerful 
disposer of extreme and vivid contrasts. — Pall 
Mall Budget, London. 

Its purpose is high, and is served by novel 
researches into the history of the Revolution. — 
Academy, London. 



The Toilers of the Sea. 



The Toilers of the Sea. A Novel. By Victor Hugo, Author of " Les Mi- 
serables." 8vo, Paper, 60 cents ; or, with Two Illustrations by Gustavb Dorb, 
8vo, Cloth, $1 50. 



In laj'ingdown the "Toilers of the Sea,'' after 
reaching its last page, we feel as though, we were 
lising from an involuntary detention in a dream- 
land to which the author conld alone admit us. 
Standing, as it does, above its predecessors in 



reality, and therefore in interest, no power of 
prophecy is needed to assert that the " Toilers 
of the Sea " will be more widely read and more 
highly thought of than even "Les Mis^rables " 
or "Notre Dame de Paris." — London Review. 



Victor Hugo's History of a Crime. 



The History of a Crime: the Testimony of an Eye-Witness. By Victor 
Hugo. Illustrated. 8vo, Paper. Parts I. and II., each 25 cents ; Complete 
in one Number, 4to, Paper, 10 cents. 

writings. * * * Although the world is tolerably 
familiar with the crime of which he here tells the 
story, it reaus here in Hugo's compact, eloquent, 
vivid pages like a revelation of something. * * * 
The book, with its fulness of detail and wondei- 
ful eloquence, is a most important contribution 
to modern history. * * * No novel can compare 
with it. — Atlantic Monthly, Boston. 



A magnificent piece of writing. — Examiner, 
London. 

Tells the story of the coup d'etat with wonder- 
ful power. It is Hugo at his best. — Indepen- 
dent, N. Y. 

In this work Victor Hugo has outdone him- 
self, and he has given the world what it seems 
onlv reasonable to call the greatest of even his 



Published by HAEPER & BEOTHERS, New Yoek. 

" Habvek & Beothkes will send amj if thu above works iy mail, postage prepaid, to any part of the United 

States, on receipt of the price. 




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