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THE LETTERS OF 
 VICTOR HUGO 
 
 
THE LETTERS OF 
 
 
 VICTOR HUGO 
 
 TO HIS FAMILY, TO SAINTE-BEUVE 
 
 AND OTHERS 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 PAUL MEURICE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFFTN AND COMPANY 
 
 1S96 
 
Copyright, 1896, 
 By HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, 3Iass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. 0. Houghton and Company. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 FA.GE 
 
 I. Letters to His Father and Mother .... 1 
 
 II. To Adele Hugo, and Others. — Journey to Keims. — 
 
 Coronation of Charles X. 41 
 
 III. To Various Persons 71 
 
 IV. To Charles Augustin Sainte-Beuve .... 179 
 V. To His Children 215 
 
 Appendix : 
 
 I. Acaddmie des Jeux Floraux, 1819-1823 .... 243 
 II. Additional Letters to Various Persons . . . 2G9 
 
 s^esss 
 
THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I. LETTERS TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 
 
 1815-1826, .. 
 
 I. 
 
 To ]MADA]\rE LA CoMTESSE HuGO, at Thionville. 
 
 2d August, 1815. 
 
 My dear Mamma, — We are very dull here since 
 you left. We often go to see M. Foucher, as you told 
 us to do. He proposed to us to join in the lessons his 
 sons are taking ; we thanked him and declined. Every 
 morninor' we work at Latin and mathematics. A letter 
 with a black seal, and addressed to Abel, came the 
 evening you went away. M. Foucher will send it on 
 to you. He was kind enough to take us to the mu- 
 seum. . . . Come home soon. We don't know what 
 to say or do without you ; we are quite lost. We are 
 always thinking of you. Mamma, mamma ! 
 
 Your dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 II. 
 
 To Monsieur le General Hugo, at his coimtriz-jylace of Saint 
 
 Lazare, near Blois. 
 
 Paris, \th Jul//, 1822. 
 
 My dear, kind Papa, — With the completion of 
 my bushiess at the Mhiistry comes the day which is to 
 
2 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 make me a Happy man ; ^ my impatience is great, and 
 you will understand this. When I have received all 
 from you, how shall I be able to pay my debt ? 
 
 I thought I had told you that Eugene has no means 
 of support besides the allowance you make him, until 
 he earns something by his own work ; that is why I so 
 often begged you to be generous to him. No doubt 
 when he calms down he will feel all the gratitude he 
 
 C f C ^ C I 
 
 < < ' 
 
 owes you^ 
 
 We' shall continue to, bear the sacrifice which ne- 
 cessity' i'mbbfees oil Us':', wfi; do not doubt that, as it is 
 your doing, the reason is that you could not act other- 
 wise. 
 
 Farewell, dear papa, I am impatiently awaiting your 
 poem and the advice you promised me. My warmest 
 thanks for all the trouble you are taking with me ; your 
 hints may turn out very useful to me for my second 
 edition, which I must soon begin to think about, for 
 the present one is being exhausted far more rapidly than 
 I dared hope ; do you think any copies will be sold at 
 Blois ? 
 
 I have no space to write to you about my grand 
 literary plans, but enough to tell you once more how 
 much I love and respect you. 
 
 With love, your dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 III. 
 
 Paris, 2^11 July, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Your letter has made my joy and 
 gratitude complete, but I did not expect anything less 
 from my good and loving father. I have just come 
 
 ^ His marriage with Mile. Adele Foucher. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 3 
 
 back from seeing M. Lourdoneix ; in a few clays he is 
 to give me an exact elate, and then I will show your 
 letter to M. and Mme. Foucher. So I shall owe all to 
 you, — my life, my happiness, everything ! You have 
 the right to expect the deepest gratitude from me, you 
 who have filled the great blank left in my heart by the 
 death of my beloved mother ! 
 
 As regards the pension I have just got from the 
 King's Privy Purse^ I must tell you that I do not receive 
 the July quarterly installment, so that it will not begin 
 till the 1st of October, which puts off the happy day to 
 the end of September ; it is a long time to wait, but 
 I console myself by thinking that my happiness is 
 settled. When hope has been changed into certainty, 
 patience is an easier matter. Dear papa, if you only 
 knew what an angel you will have for a daughter ! 
 I am still anxiously awaiting your poem, and I shall 
 use the numbers of the Thionville paper in the way 
 you suggest. A Spaniard named d'Abayma, who came 
 to see me yesterday, spoke to me of my father in a way 
 wdiich w^ould have made me feel proud of him, if I had 
 not been so already. 
 
 I have no prejudice against your present wife, as I 
 have not the honor of knowing her. I feel for her 
 the respect wdiich I owe to the lady who bears your 
 honored name ; it was therefore without any reluc- 
 tance that I begged you to express my sentiments to 
 her ; I could not have selected a better person to do 
 this, could I, my dear, good father ? 
 
 Farewell, dear papa, take care of yourself, and love 
 your happy, devoted, and respectful son, 
 
 YlCTOK. 
 
4 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 In my next letter, I will tell you of all the work 
 which a happy married life will enable me to under- 
 take with a calm spirit, a clear head, and a contented 
 mind. Perhaps you will approve ; at any rate, that is 
 my fondest wish. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Paris, 8th August, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Just as I am beginning this 
 letter, my monthly allowance is brought me. The 
 thirty-six francs which came with it shall be sent to 
 their destination this very day. The numbers of the 
 interesting Thionville paper which you intended for 
 the Academie des Sciences and for the editor of the 
 Dlctionnaire des Generaux Fran^ais have already 
 reached theirs. 
 
 I hasten to discuss your ingenious poem. I was 
 longing to tell you all the pleasure I experienced in 
 reading it; I have already read it three times, and 
 I know some of the passages in it by heart. There 
 are a number of excellent lines on every page, as for 
 instance — 
 
 Et vendre k tout venant le pardon que je donne, 
 
 and descriptions full of life and esprit, such as that 
 of Lucifer taking his telescope to look at the angel. 
 Several of my friends, who are also among our most 
 distinguished literary men, share my opinion of your 
 work ; so you see, dear papa, I am not biased by the 
 deep love and tender gratitude which I shall ever feel 
 for you. 
 
 Your dutiful and respectful son, Victor. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 5 
 
 Another line, dear papa, altliougli the post is just 
 going'. I cannot help telling you how surprised I am 
 that you took such a short time to compose your 
 pretty poem ; pray tell me ahout your health in your 
 next letter; — that was a charming plan of spending 
 the autumn with you ; I recognized your kind heart in 
 it, but this pleasure must be postponed till next year ; 
 nothing will stand in the way of it then. 
 
 V. 
 
 Paris, Slst August, 1822. 
 
 Now, dear papa, it is your turn to be bothered. 
 There is every indication that my affairs at the Home 
 Office will be settled at last, and that my happiness 
 will begin ; but I shall require my birth and baptismal 
 certificates ; I apply to you, my dear, kind father, as 
 I have no acquaintances at Besangon; I do not know 
 how to set about getting these two documents ; I must 
 appeal to your inexhaustible kindness. I should like 
 to have them at once, for if I waited longer I should 
 be so afraid they might delay my happiness, which 
 seems already so long in coming. I know your kind 
 heart, I know you will put yourself in my place; 
 pardon me for troubling you once more. You sent 
 us our certificates of birth four years ago, but w^hen 
 we entered our names at the School of Law we were 
 obHged to leave them in the office, in conformity with 
 the law, and the law does not allow of their return. 
 You w^ould therefore oblige me very much by getting 
 this document for me, as well as my baptismal certifi- 
 cate, which is necessary for the Churcli, as you know. 
 
 Farewell, dear, good papa ; the oiler in your charm- 
 
6 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ing letter, to send me some of the sketches you made 
 of Saint-Lazare, fills me with joy and with tender 
 gratitude. It will be delightful to me to put such 
 precious ornaments in the apartment which will witness 
 my happiness. Pray do not forget to keep this 
 promise, to which I attach such importance. 
 
 Send me an answer as soon as possible, and tell me 
 a great deal about your health, your daily occupations, 
 and your affection for your sons, which can scarcely be 
 repaid by all the love and respect of your own 
 
 Victor. 
 
 Everybody here sends you their best love. I fancy 
 that you see at Blois the papers which notice my 
 collection of poems ; if you like, I will send you those 
 which I come across. Pray tell me what you are doing 
 just now ; you know how it interests me. Forgive this 
 scrawl, I am writing with a maimed hand ; I cut myself 
 slightly with a penknife, but it won't be anything. 
 Farewell, dear papa, once more, fond love. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Paris, 13th September, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — M. de Lourdoneix having faith- 
 fully promised me that my Home Office pension should 
 be paid me during M. de Peyronnet's ad interim 
 administration, I have delivered your letter to M. 
 Foucher, and you should have received his reply. We 
 are now waiting only for your duly authenticated 
 consent. 
 
 Dear papa, Abel's silence is due only to his many 
 engagements. I showed him your letter, and he will 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 7 
 
 himself hasten to dispel a doubt which is painful to 
 him. 
 
 I am sure I have been baptized, even though it was 
 not at Besan(^on, and you can understand how annoy- 
 ing it woidd be to have to go through the ceremony 
 again at my age. My illustrious friend, M. de Lamen- 
 nais, told me that a declaration to the effect that I had 
 been baptized abroad (in Italy), coupled with yours, 
 would suffice. You understand what important rea- 
 sons I have for wishing you to send me this simple 
 declaration. 
 
 To-day is the 13th, my dear father, and I have not 
 yet received our monthly allow^ance. You are always 
 so careful in anticipating your son's wants that I am 
 sure the delay is due solely to the Messageries. But I 
 tell you of it, dear papa, feeling convinced that you 
 Avill hasten to relieve our embarrassment. 
 
 Farewell, my excellent father; I love you, I send 
 you my best love, and I am longing to see you, and to 
 see you in good health. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Yictor. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Paris, 18^^ September, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I am answering your letter by 
 return of post to thank you for the declaration you 
 have sent me, and I beg you wdll be as prompt in 
 letting me have your duly authenticated consent. I 
 am most anxious that my marriage should take place 
 on the Ttli or 8th of October, for a very important 
 reason (hi addition to the sentimental ones, whicli, you 
 know^, are not less so), viz. that I am obliged to give up 
 
8 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the rooms I am now occupying on the 7th of October. 
 I have therefore begged M. and Mme. Foucher to have 
 the banns pubHshed for the first time on Sunday next, 
 the 22d; they will be over by Sunday the 6th of 
 October; but these banns must also be published 
 where you reside, and by the 6th of October notice 
 must be received at our parish of Saint Sulpice of the 
 complete publication of the banns at Blois, which 
 cannot be done unless you will kindly buy off one of 
 them from your parish. You understand, my dear papa, 
 how pressing is the necessity which makes me prefer 
 this urgent request. It is a question of sparing me the 
 trouble and expense of two moves, one after the other, 
 at a time which is naturally attended with so much 
 trouble and expense ; it is also a question of hastening 
 on my happiness by a few days, and I know your kind 
 heart too well to say more. 
 
 I have everything in order ; I have had a notarial 
 copy made of the certificate of birth left at the Law 
 School, which is as good as the original. When I have 
 received your consent, I shall be able to comply with 
 all the ci^dl formalities ; the document you have sent 
 me to-day will do also for the religious formahties. 
 
 The Christian name and surname of my beloved 
 fiancee are Adele Julie Foucher, a minor, and daughter 
 of Pierre Foucher, Head Clerk at the War Office, 
 Knight of the Legion of Honor, and of his wife Anne 
 Victoire Asseline. You will receive this information 
 for the publication of the banns. 
 
 Do try, dear papa, to send us the arrears of our 
 allowance as soon as possible ; you understand how 
 much I am in need of money just now. I entreat you 
 
TO HIS FATHER AXD MOTHER. 9 
 
 also, dear, kind papa, to do your best to continue your 
 allowance to my brothers Eugene and Abel. Do not 
 forget that Eugene was a little off his head when he 
 wrote to you, and give him, if you can, this fresh proof 
 of your fatherly love and generosity. As for me, I 
 shall not trouble you with my wants ; my Government 
 pension will be paid me from the 1st of October; I 
 shall doubtless not have to wait for my home allow- 
 ance, and although I must spend a good deal of money 
 just now, still, by working hard and sitting up late, I 
 shall perhaps manage to make it good ; — work will be 
 easy to me now ; I am going to be so happy ! 
 
 In conclusion, allow me to remind you, my own 
 dearest papa, how very important are all my requests 
 to you about forw^arding your legal consent, about the 
 publication of the banns, and buying off one set in 
 your parish. 
 
 Farewell, forgive this scrawl, and accept my warmest 
 and best thanks. 
 
 Your dutiful and respectful son, Victor. 
 
 M. and Mme. Foucher are much touched by all 
 your kind messages to them. You will see one day 
 what a present they are making you, when I bring you 
 your daughter. 
 
 I will send you at once all the papers I have been 
 able to get in which my collection of poems is noticed. 
 It still sells very well, and in a short time it will have 
 paid its expenses. This is extraordinary at this time of 
 year. 
 
 I have been obliired to correct an oversioht in the 
 document you sent me ; I was born ou the 2Gth of 
 February, 1802, not 1801. 
 
10 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Paris, 19th October, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — The happiest and the most grate- 
 ful of sons is writing to you. From the 12th of this 
 month I have enjoyed the most delightful and the 
 most perfect happiness, and I see no end to it in the 
 future ; it is to you, dear, kind papa, that I owe these 
 pure and lawful joys, it is you who have given me my 
 happiness ; accept then, for the third time, the assur- 
 ance of my deepest and tenderest gratitude. 
 
 I did not write to you during the first days of 
 my bliss, because my heart was too full for words; 
 even now you will make allowance for me, my good 
 father, for I hardly know what I am writing. I am 
 absorbed in a deep feeling of love, and so long as 
 this letter is full of it I have no doubt but that your 
 kind heart will be satisfied. Your angelic Adele unites 
 with me; if she dared, she would write to you, but 
 now that we two are one, her heart feels as mine for 
 you. 
 
 Allow me, in concluding this too short letter, 
 my dear, good father, to commend my brothers' 
 interests to you ; I have no doubt you have already 
 decided in their favor, and it is only to hasten the 
 execution of your decision that I mention the subject 
 again. 
 
 Farewell then, dear papa, I leave you T\dth regret. 
 Still, it is a pleasure to me to assure you once more of 
 the dutiful love and unchanging gratitude of your 
 happy children. Victor. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 11 
 
 My two brothers send you their fond love. j\Iy 
 father-in-law and mother-in-law were much pleased 
 with your letter ; I believe M. Foucher wdll soon send 
 you a reply ; he is looking after my Uncle Louis' 
 interests at the War Office. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Paris, lOth November, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — All the tender and personal ex- 
 pressions in your kind letter have been received here 
 by two hearts which are now one in their love for you. 
 I cannot tell you how touched my Adele was by the 
 expression of your affection, which she well deserves in 
 return for that which she has deigned to bestow on 
 your son. She will tell you herself all she feels for 
 you. Pray be so good as to tell our stepmother how 
 grateful we are for all that she kindly did to hasten 
 our happy union. 
 
 I showed your letter to my brothers. Abel is going 
 to write to you ; they beg me to send you their best 
 love. Pray accept the same from myself, and allow me 
 to leave the rest of this sheet for your daughter. 
 
 Your dutiful and respectful son, 
 
 Victor. 
 
 X. 
 
 20th December, 1822. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I am writing to you from tlie 
 bedside of Eugene, who is ill, and dangerously ill. 
 His deplorable state of mind, about which I had so 
 often told you, grew so much worse during the last few 
 months as to profoundly alarm us all, although we 
 
12 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 could not seriously remedy it, for, as he retained the 
 free use of his will, he obstinately declined all help 
 and attention. His love of soHtude, indulged in to 
 a frightful extent, has accelerated a crisis, which may 
 perhaps be salutary, at least, one must hope so, but 
 which is none the less extremely serious, and will leave 
 him in a critical condition for a long time to come. 
 Abel and M. Foucher will give you more details on 
 this melancholy subject. For the present I hasten to 
 beg you to be good enough to send us some money ; 
 you will easily understand what difficulties I was in 
 when this sad event overtook me. Abel is also taken 
 by surprise, and we apply to you, as to a father whom 
 your sons have ever found ready to help them in their 
 troubles, and to whom the misfortunes of his children 
 come before all others. 
 
 In this sad position we have, at any rate, been 
 fortunate in the chance which made us take one of 
 your old acquaintances. Dr. Fleury, as our doctor. 
 
 Farewell, dear, kind papa. I am broken-hearted at 
 the sad news I am giving you. Our invalid had a 
 pretty good night ; he is better this morning, but he 
 has been quite delirious since the day before yesterday, 
 and he still wanders a good deal ; he was bled yester- 
 day, he was given an emetic this morning, and I am 
 at his bedside nursing him. Farewell, farewell; the 
 post is going, and I have only time to send you my 
 love and to promise you longer letters from Abel and 
 M. Foucher. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 13 
 
 XI. 
 
 To M. EuGEXE Hugo, care of General Hugo, his father^ 73 
 
 Grande Rue du Foix, Blois. 
 
 Tuesday^ 5th March, 1823. 
 
 Your letter, my dear, kind Eugene, gave us very 
 great pleasure. We hope the improvement in your 
 health will continue to the extent we all wish, and 
 that you will soon recover your tranquillity of mind, 
 and with it that vio^or and liveliness of imasfination 
 which we used to admire in your writings. 
 
 Say, repeat to all around you, how much we love 
 them for the care they are taking of you ; tell my 
 father that my regret at being away from him and you 
 is mitigated by the happiness of knowing you are 
 together. Tell him that his name is often mentioned 
 here as a talisman of happiness; that the months which 
 must elapse before your return will seem very long to 
 us. Say to him on our behalf all that your heart feels 
 for him, and we shall be satisfied. Write to us as 
 often as possible. 
 
 Your brother and friend, Victor. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Tuesday, 5th March, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Your absence deprives us of one 
 of the greatest pleasures we have experienced in the 
 happiness of our married life, that of seeing you. Now 
 we are looking forward more than ever to the month 
 that will give us a child, because it will restore our 
 father to us. Eugene also will return, and will cer- 
 tainly come back happy and cured. 
 
14 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Our Uncle Francis has been spending a few days 
 here with his wife, and this has prevented our writing 
 to you before. We made the acquaintance of our 
 aunt, who appears happy, and seems to be intelHgent 
 and agreeable. Francis also is very happy ; he was 
 most kind and affectionate to us, and was very sorry 
 you were no longer in Paris. 
 
 My wife is as well as can be expected in her situa- 
 tion. I was both distressed and delighted to hear that 
 you had been unwell, and that you had recovered. We 
 beg you will congratulate your wife as well on her res- 
 toration to health, of which our good Eugene tells us. 
 
 I was told some time ago of a pension of 3000 
 francs supposed to have been granted me, and payable 
 at the Home Office. I have heard nothing more of it ; 
 if this ofood news is confirmed I shall hasten to tell 
 you of it, as I am sure our kind father will be much 
 interested. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, good father ; every one here loves 
 you and embraces you, as does your lo\4ng and dutiful 
 son, Victor. 
 
 Our kind regards to our stepmother. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 24cth May, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I gave your letter to Eugene 
 yesterday ; it both touched him and grieved him ; his 
 disappointment at not being able to see you again at 
 Blois has been a little softened by the hope I held out 
 to him of seeing you at Paris two months hence ; this 
 seemed a long time to him. I must also tell you, dear 
 papa, that I did not find him so well. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 15 
 
 The patients in M. Esquirol's establishment have the 
 greatest attention paid them, but what is so fatal to 
 Eugene is the solitude and idleness to which he is 
 condemned there. A few words that dropped from 
 him showed me that in his overheated brain he has 
 conceived a horror of this lorison^ as he calls it ; he 
 told me in a low tone that icomen icere being mur- 
 dered in the cellars, and that he had heard their 
 shrieks. You see, dear papa, that his stay there is 
 doing him more harm than good. 
 
 Again, the terms (which M. Esquirol is to tell you 
 about) are very high, four hundred francs a month. 
 Besides, Dr. Fleury thinks that walking and exercise 
 are absolutely necessary for the patient. I transmit all 
 these details, my dear father, without giving you ad- 
 vice. You know better than I what ought to be done, 
 still, I think I may tell you that there are, as I am as- 
 sured, other establishments of the same kind where 
 patients are just as well treated and do not pay as much. 
 
 It appears they have not taken sufficient pains to 
 hide from Eugene that he is among mad people, and 
 consequently he is much troubled by this idea, 
 which, however, I was able to combat successfully 
 yesterday. 
 
 I write to you in haste, my dear, good father, amid 
 all the worries caused me by my publisher's bank- 
 ruptcy. Beware of our good Abel's excess of confi- 
 dence when you sell your Memoirs ; it is he who, quite 
 involuntarily, it is true, has let me in for this business. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, good father -, we all send you our 
 fondest love. 
 
 Your devoted and respectful son, Victor. 
 
16 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Our kind regards to your wife, from whom we hope 
 to hear soon. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Gentilly, 2101 June, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — After remaining a few weeks at 
 Val-de-Grace, Eugene has just been transferred to 
 Saint-Maurice, which is a branch estabhshment of the 
 Charenton Asylum, under the superintendence of Dr. 
 Eoyard-Collard. The expenses of the move and of the 
 treatment are defrayed by Government, — but it will 
 be easy for you to improve his position by making him 
 a more or less small allowance ; we are told that this is 
 generally done with patients of a certain rank. Besides, 
 Dr. Fleury was to have written to one of his friends 
 who will have charge of Eugene in this establishment; 
 and M. Girard, the director of the Veterinary School 
 at Alfort, and a great friend of M. Foucher's, has 
 promised him to bespeak the greatest attention for our 
 poor dear invalid, and to make it a personal matter. 
 M. Foucher, Abel, or I, intend writing to you immedi- 
 ately about these matters, as well as about our unfor- 
 tunate brother's health, which is still in such a sad 
 state. My Adele's sufferings, which increase as her 
 time grows nearer, have prevented me from going to 
 see him in his new abode ; I am therefore unable to 
 give you such recent news about him as I should have 
 wished. The state of his mind, however, varies very 
 little, as I had occasion to observe in my frequent 
 visits to him at Dr. Esquirol's house and at Val-de- 
 Grace ; always haunted by a melancholy idea of some 
 imminent danger, all his utterances, as well as all his 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 17 
 
 movements and all his looks, betray this secret pre- 
 occupation, and I fear that the way in which society 
 treats sult'erers of this kind, viz. confinement and idle- 
 ness, will but increase a melancholy, the only remedy 
 for which, as I think, would be change and amusement. 
 What is so terribly hard is that the application of this 
 remedy is well-nigh impossible, because it is dangerous. 
 
 I inclose a letter from M. Esquirol, which throws no 
 light on the subject, and adds nothing to my personal 
 opinions and special remarks about Eugene ; I think I 
 have already told you most of what the doctor writes, 
 to whom I had already stated all the facts which he 
 gives ; it is true that the patient had only stayed a very 
 short time in his house, but I think it did him more 
 harm than good. M. Katzenberger has sent M. Fou- 
 cher the four hundred francs which Dr. Esquirol charges 
 for a month's board and lodging, and M. Foucher has 
 told the doctor that the money is at his disposal. 
 
 I am glad, dear papa, to turn your thoughts to less 
 mournful subjects by telling you about the auspicious 
 event which will involve another equally auspicious for 
 us, viz. your return. My beloved Adele expects her 
 confinement in about five weeks. Do come as soon as 
 it is convenient to you. I should be so delighted if 
 my child could receive its name from you, and it is a 
 subject of innocent rejoicing to me that it was left to 
 me, the youngest of your sons, to be the first to make 
 you a grandfather. I already love this child, because 
 it will be another link between my father and myself. 
 
 I am obliged for your proposal relating to M. de 
 Chateaubriand, but the internal position of the Ministry 
 makes any communication at this moment between M. 
 
18 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Chateaubriand and M. de Corbiere specially delicate; 
 you will understand what I can only hint at here. 
 
 The hopes which have been dangled before me so 
 long have assumed a somewhat positive shape in the 
 last two days. If they are realized at last, I will let 
 you know of it at once. As for the Sj)anish property, 
 I have no doubt that an application coming from you 
 would be perfectly well received, and I would present 
 it myself to the Minister for Foreign Affairs ; only, I 
 am afraid that a decision would rest not so much with 
 my illustrious friend as with M. de Martignac, who is 
 M. de Villele's creature. 
 
 Farewell, dear, kind father. Adele wishes me to leave 
 the rest of this sheet for her ; I had a great deal to tell 
 you, but I must yield to so natural a wish, and confine 
 myseK to sending you my fond love and respect. 
 
 Your son, Victor. 
 
 XV. 
 
 1st July, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — My good little cousin, Adolphe 
 Trebuchet, will give you this letter, in which you will 
 find M. Esquirol's receipt. We have not yet been able 
 to see our poor Eugene at Saint-Maurice ; permission 
 is required, and it is somewhat difficult to obtain. 
 Abel, however, has meanwhile got news of him, which 
 is unfortunately far from satisfactory; he is still 
 plunged in the same melancholy ; for some time he 
 refused all food, but at last nature triumphed and he 
 consented to eat. The treatment he is undergoing 
 does not, it appears, entail any additional charge as 
 yet ; if it should be so, they will let us know. 
 
TO HIS FATPIER AND MOTHER. 19 
 
 These details break my heart, dear papa, and I need 
 all my joy at the thought of your approaching return 
 not to give way to despair at this moment. 
 
 M. Foucher and Abel will write to you soon, and I 
 myself will not delay to communicate to you anything 
 fresh in the state of our dear patient. 
 
 Farewell, dear papa. I need not ask you to be kind 
 to Adolphe, whom we all love like a brother ; I believe 
 he is very anxious to see Chambord, and it will be a 
 pleasure to him as well as to you, if the hurry of his 
 journey will allow him to spend a few days at Blois. 
 
 I send you fond love from myself and from Adele ; 
 pray give our kindest regards to our stepmother, who 
 is, we hope, quite well again. 
 
 Your dutiful and respectful son, V, M. H. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 2M July, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I did not tell you sooner of the 
 event which gives you one more being in the world to 
 love, because I wished to spare your fatherly heart all 
 the uneasiness, anxiety, and anguish I have been tor- 
 tured by during the last week. My wife has had a 
 very bad confinement, and has suffered a good deal in 
 consequence ever since ; the child was almost dying 
 when it came into the world ; its mother's milk, which 
 had become deteriorated by all she had gone through 
 during her pregnancy and at her confinement, did 
 not agree with the feeble little creature. After several 
 trials of it, which nearly endangered your grandson's 
 life, we were obliged to think of having him nursed by 
 a stranger. You can imagine what dilliculty I had in 
 
20 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 persuading Adele to consent to this, as she was looking 
 forward so much to the fatigues of nursing. It was 
 not the serious risk to her own health, but the danger 
 which threatened that of the child that decided her; 
 so she has bravely sacrificed her mother's right to the 
 interests of her son, and we have put the child out to 
 nurse. In this emergency we have been fortunate 
 enough to find a very good wet-nurse who lives in our 
 part of the town, and, although these women are very 
 expensive in Paris, still the urgency of the case, and 
 the facility of getting news of your grandson, Leopold, 
 at any moment, made me readily incur the expense. 
 
 Now, at last, after so much anxiety and uncertainty, 
 I can give you some good news. My beloved Adele is 
 improving visibly ; we hope she ^y\l\ soon have got rid 
 of her milk. The child, strengthened by its healthy 
 and abundant supply of food, is going on very well, and 
 bids fair to become a grandfather, some day, like you. 
 
 You see, my dear, kind father, that I have spared 
 you the anxiety which you would certainly have felt as 
 deeply as I did. This is the reason of a silence which 
 you will approve, although, perhaps, you blamed me for 
 it at first. Your joy will now be as unalloyed as ours, 
 which is greatly enhanced by the thought of so soon 
 clasping you in our arms. 
 
 Farewell, my good father. Come soon, and send 
 me your thanks ; nine months ago I gave you a 
 daughter, who loves you as I do ; now we give you a 
 son, who will love you as we do. And what greater 
 comfort is there in life than the tie of affection which 
 unites parents and children? 
 
 Your dutiful and respectful son, Victor. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 21 
 
 Give our love to our stepmotlier, whom we expect 
 to see with you. 
 
 During the last fortnight that I have been actino- 
 as nurse, I have not been able to look after our dear 
 Eugene as I should have wished ; but you are comino- : 
 would that I could take a less gloomy view of his 
 future ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 29th July, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I was congratulating myself on 
 having only good news to send you, when unforeseen 
 circumstances obhge me to apply to you for advice and 
 assistance : the wet-nurse to whom we were oblio-ed to 
 intrust our child does not suit us at all. She deceives 
 us ; she seems to be bad-tempered and insincere ; she 
 has taken advantage of our having been compelled to 
 find a nurse for the child. At first we thouoht she 
 was kind and gentle ; now we have but too many 
 reasons for taking our poor little Leopold out of her 
 hands as quickly as possible. So Adele and I, now 
 that we have settled to take him away from this woman, 
 would be very glad if you would be kind enough to 
 find for us, either at Blois or in the neighborhood, a 
 wet-nurse who has not been nursing more than five 
 months, and whose antecedents and character are satis- 
 factory ; anyhow, Ave should both be quite easy in our 
 mind, knowing that our Leopold would be looked after 
 by you and your wife. This is why we have decided 
 to send liim to Blois rather than anywhere else. 
 
 It is needless, my dear, good father, to press you for 
 a speedy reply ; the slightest delay might be injurious 
 
22 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 to your little grandson's healtli. I do not ask you to 
 forgive us for all the trouble we are causing you ; I 
 know that your kind paternal heart takes a pleasure 
 
 in it. 
 
 Farewell, dear papa. Eugene's ^;/^?/szc«Z healtli is 
 better ; every one here embraces you as fondly as your 
 son loves you. Make haste and come, send me an 
 answer soon, and beHeve in my unchanging and dutiful 
 love. Victor. 
 
 I am ordering La Muse Franr^aise, a literary period- 
 ical which I am helping to edit, to be sent to you. 
 I will give you the second edition of Han cVIslande 
 in Paris. 
 
 It is of great importance tliat the wet-nurse, whom 
 you will be kind enough to find for us, should have the 
 child at once, for it malces me uneasv to see it in the 
 hands of this woman. Try to bring her with you, and 
 in any case reply by return of post, for Adele is very 
 anxious, and her only hope is in you, who she knows 
 is so kind, and whom she loves so much. 
 
 XYIII. 
 
 Zd August, [1823]. 
 
 My dear Papa, — To be able to express the joy 
 and gratitude with which your letter fills us, one would 
 require the power of describing all the tender affection 
 and touching kindness contained in your fatherly heart. 
 So you wish to perform my paternal duties even better 
 than I do, and indeed, poor little Leopold's first smile 
 and his first look will be for you. I should like to pour 
 out here all the love your daughter and I feel for you. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 23 
 
 our best of fathers, but I should have to repeat the 
 subject of all our conversation for the last two days, so 
 I confine myself to the limits of this sheet of paper. 
 
 When I received your letter, my heart was so full 
 that I wanted to answer it immediately, but your wise 
 advice got the better of my impatience, and I waited 
 until your excellent arrangements had been carried out, 
 to express our warmest gratitude to you, and at the 
 same time give you news of your Leopold, the wet- 
 nurse, and my Adele. 
 
 The wet-nurse arrived yesterday in good health and 
 spirits ; she gave me your letter, and your instructions 
 were followed to the letter. Every one was delighted 
 with her and her baby. In the course of the same 
 morning we took your poor grandchild away from his 
 unnatural foster-mother, and he began to perform his 
 duties in the most satisfactory way ; I do not know if 
 it is the effect of paternal illusion or not, but we think 
 he already looks better this morning. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, kind father. Pray tell your wife 
 how deeply and sincerely grateful we are to her ; we 
 long to be able to tell her so ourselves, and we send 
 you our fond love, Avhile looking forward to that happy 
 day. 
 
 Your dutiful and grateful son, Victor. 
 
 Eugene's bodily health continues good, but he is still 
 painfully slovenly. A part only of his linen was sent 
 with him to Char en ton from Val-de-Grace ; we are try- 
 ing to get hold of the rest to have it taken to him. 
 What annoys me very much is the extreme difficulty of 
 seeing our poor brother at Saint-Maurice. 
 
24 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 War Office, Qth August, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Your letter has given me real 
 pain, and I long for you to receive this one, that I may- 
 feel somewhat comforted ; how could you imagine for 
 one moment that I was not most deeply grateful for 
 all the kindness your wife has lavished on our Eugene 
 and our Leopold ? I could not have been a brother or 
 father, and remain insensible to the value of all she 
 has done for them, and, in consequence, for me. If my 
 thanks were addressed principally to you, the reason 
 was, that we look on our father as the source of all love 
 and tenderness, and that I thought it would please you 
 to pass on to your wife the expression of my deep and 
 tender fiHal gratitude, and that, coming from you, this 
 tribute would be far more highly appreciated than if it 
 came from me. 
 
 I implore you, my dear, kind fatlier, do not pain 
 me so again ; I am quite sure your wife could not have 
 thouo^ht me unofrateful, or have believed that I was not 
 sincerely touched by all her care of poor Leopold ; and 
 how, indeed, would it be possible for me not to feel 
 deeply moved by her kindly solicitude, which has prob- 
 ably saved my child's life ? Dear papa, I repeat, hasten 
 to make up to me for the pain w^hich you have so un- 
 justly caused me amid so much joy, and which seemed 
 to me still more hard at a time when my heart was so 
 freely opening to every tender and happy feeling. 
 
 Farew^ell. I will not dwell further on an explanation 
 which is already too long for your affection and mine, 
 and the unpleasantness of which will only be com- 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 25 
 
 pletely removed by the happiness of seeing you soon 
 here again, as well as your wife. 
 
 All are continuing to improve here, — mother, child, 
 and wet-nurse. 
 
 Now that I have a little breathing-time, I hope to 
 see something of our poor Eugene, and to take him 
 the rest of his things to-morrow, Thursday ; he, too, 
 however, continues to improve a little. 
 
 So, my dear, good father, let us see you again soon, 
 and our happiness will be complete. Please send me 
 an answer quickly, and come, if you can, still more 
 quickly. Every one here sends their fond love to you 
 and to Leopold's grandmamma, who, I trust, will sing 
 my praises and plead my causes with you, as you will 
 not plead mine with her. 
 
 Your devoted and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 My Adele begs me to give you and your wife a 
 thousand kind messages from her. 
 
 Abel joins us in this ; he is still keeping well, and is 
 longing to see you. 
 
 XX. 
 
 ISth September, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — The only consolation we could 
 have for the loss of our father and son was your kind 
 and valued letter. The loving care Avhicli your wife 
 lavished on her poor Httle grandson during the journey 
 touched and affected us deeply. Every day brings us 
 a fresh proof that she has as much affection for us as 
 you have, and it is a real pleasure to me to bear wit- 
 ness to this. 
 
26 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 My Adele has not been out since you left ; she has 
 got a troublesome place on her foot, which prevents her 
 from walking, and at times even gives her a good deal 
 of pain. She bears this fresh trouble with her usual 
 cheerfulness, but I am very sorry about it for her. 
 
 Much as I should like to continue this letter, I must 
 finish it here ; my wife, who has much to say to your 
 wife, asks me to let her have the rest of the sheet. I 
 hope Leopold is going on well. Give my kindest re- 
 gards to his grandmother, my love to his Uncle Paul ; 
 and tell me if his eyes have grown larger since his 
 journey, by dint of opening. Abel and I send you our 
 fond love. 
 
 Your devoted and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 I will try to give you news of Eugene in my next 
 letter. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 m October, 1823. 
 
 My dear, kind Papa, — Too long a time has elapsed 
 since I wrote you a good long letter, not to feel the 
 necessity of telling you how deeply moved I am by all 
 the kindness lavished on our Leopold by you and his 
 excellent grandmamma. The first letter I am able to 
 write with my hand, which is nearly well, must be for 
 you, dear papa. I do not know how I am to express all 
 my feehngs of gratitude and affection, but this inabil- 
 ity is itself a source of happiness to me. May your 
 grandson one day become worthy of you, and repay 
 you, as well as the second mother he has found in your 
 wife, with the tenderest and most devoted filial affec- 
 tion. It will be easy for me to inspire him with these 
 sentiments. 
 
TO Ills FATHER AND MOTHER. 27 
 
 We hope that his new diet continues to agree with 
 the poor Httle himb. Paul told us of the way in which 
 he is petted by you, as well as by his grandmother and 
 the whole household ; Adele was moved to tears at 
 hearing this, and it made the same impression on me. 
 
 My wife, who is not very well, and is dosing herself, 
 wishes very much to be the first to read your memoirs. 
 
 Ddsir (le femine est un feu qui ddvore. 
 
 I have requested Ladvocat to forward me the sheets 
 as they are printed ; if you 'have time, write to him to 
 send them quicker. 
 
 Farewell, dearest and best of fathers. We very seldom 
 see Abel, but I send you his love as well as mine. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 My kindest regards to grandmamma. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 6th October, 1823. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Yesterday my wife's impatience 
 for news of her Leopold made her open the letter you 
 wrote to his father. You can imagine her anxiety and 
 grief. 
 
 As for me, my kind, good father, I have complete 
 confidence in your wife's maternal care. Tell her, re- 
 peat it a hundred times, that no one feels more deeply 
 than I all she does for the poor child, who will be hers 
 even more than mine. 
 
 We hope, — because your letter permits us to hope, 
 because yoiu* wife has had the helpful thought of np- 
 pealing to Heaven, because, in short, you are both on 
 
28 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the spot, you, his kind parents, his protectors, his sa- 
 viours. 
 
 Send us news of him soon, dear papa ; we hope, but 
 we are resigned ; this also is a power which comes from 
 Heaven. Adele awaits your reply with fortitude ; I 
 do not send you her love, she wishes to do it herself. 
 Give my warmest and best thanks to the poor little 
 angel's grandmother. I embrace you again once more 
 with respect and affection. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 13^^ October, 1823. 
 
 Dear Papa, — I will not add to your grief by de- 
 scribing ours ; you have felt all I am f eehng ; your 
 wife has gone through all that Adele has. 
 
 No, I will not sadden you with all our affliction ; if 
 you were here, dearest father, we would weep together, 
 and would comfort each other by mingling our tears. 
 
 I am not answering your letter ; I heard the fatal 
 news from Mme. Foucher. Her first impulse was to 
 hide the two letters, for fear Adele should read them, 
 and she has not been able to find them since. 
 
 However, she told me of all your grief, and of all 
 your loving and pious intentions that the dear little 
 soul's memory shall be preserved on earth as it will 
 abide forever in our hearts. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, kind papa ; do not take my loss 
 too much to heart. 
 
 Yesterday (12th October) was the anniversary of our 
 wedding-day. God has granted us a consolation by 
 recalling this sweet memory of happiness in the midst 
 of all our sorrow. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 29 
 
 Once more, farewell ; my wife's heart and mine are 
 full of love for you both. 
 
 Your dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Saturday, November, [1823], 
 
 My dear Papa, — I write you a few lines in great 
 haste ; M. de Feraudy is waiting for my letter and the 
 parcel ; my wife is hastening to finish the drawing she 
 is sending to her kind parents at Blois ; I hope you 
 will be pleased with it ; I say no more, for I should be 
 afraid, in praising my Adele's talent, to seem as if I 
 wished to enhance the value of her present. We should 
 much have liked to send you this one framed ; but as 
 M. de Feraudy made some remarks about the difficulty 
 of carrying it, you will understand that imperative 
 reasons of good-breeding prevented us from sending 
 you this fine drawing in all its glory. 
 
 Good-by till we meet again. M. de Feraudy under- 
 took the commission in the most obliging way, and I 
 beg you to repeat to him at Blois how much indebted 
 we are to him. 
 
 It seems a long time to me, dear papa, since we had 
 any news of you. How is your wife ? I will try to 
 find what you ask me for. 
 
 My Adele is still very unwell. This blow has not 
 helped to set her up ; still, it was a great comfort to 
 her to do something for you, dear father, and for her 
 Leopold's grandmother. 
 
 She is not using her pen to ^XY'lte to you at this mo- 
 ment, because she is still busy with her pencil. 
 
 I cannot help telhng you in confidence that every 
 
30 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 one here who has seen her drawing admires it im- 
 mensely. 
 
 Perhaps our good Adolphe is at Blois just now ; give 
 him my love till I give him yours. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, kind father ; our best love to 
 you. V. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 21tTi March, 1824. 
 
 My dear Papa, — I conclude from your letter, other- 
 wise so full of kindness and affection, that you have 
 not yet received my new composition, although Lad- 
 vocat the bookseller had promised to send you a copy 
 on vellum, on which I had written a few words ; let me 
 know if you have received it. 
 
 I am writmg you again to-day a j^^^ov is 'tonal letter 
 in the interval between two i7idis2)ensahle, and, I can 
 assure you, extremely troublesome matters of business. 
 Nothing takes up one's time so much as the publication 
 of a tiresome book. 
 
 M. de Clermont-Tonnerre, with whom I lunched yes- 
 terday, begged me to write and tell you that the Duke 
 of Angouleme had spoken to him of you and of your 
 Memoivs, ID Jiich he has read ivith the greatest interest, 
 and that he regretted you had not been employed in 
 the last Spanish war. 
 
 My wife goes on well, but not as well as I could 
 wish ; however, we are not anxious about her ; but, 
 though I regret it, I cannot help approving the doctor's 
 orders to her not to go out driving. This deprives us 
 of a great pleasure which we were looking forward to 
 for the spring, but which we hope is only postponed 
 for six months. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 31 
 
 Farewell, dear papa ; Adele and I send you our best 
 love, and the same to your good wife. 
 
 Your devoted and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 Everybody here is quite well. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 21th June, 1824. 
 
 My dear Papa, — Notwithstanding all M. Foucher's 
 efforts, and General de Coetlogon's goodwill, we have 
 not succeeded this time. Your application arrived too 
 late ; and for some time past the Duke of Angouleme 
 had reserved the Inspector-Generalships for General 
 Officers of the army in Spain. I do not know, dear 
 papa, if this is a real misfortune; it is not a slight 
 on your long and glorious services, as there can be no 
 doubt that your claim would have been successful if 
 there had been any competition ; but the appointments 
 were already placed at the Prince's disposal. Besides, 
 it seems to me to increase your chances of promotion 
 among the Lieutenant-Generals at the fete of Saint 
 Louis, and with M. de Clermont-Tonnerre's support 
 (unfortunately, I can no longer say, and M. de Chateau- 
 briand's), it may be quite possible to obtain for you, 
 then, that highest mark of military distinction which 
 should have been yours so long ago. 
 
 I believe M. Foucher takes the same \iew as I do ; 
 however, he is going to write to you. 
 
 As for me, I am scribbling this letter in a great 
 luirry ; my eyes are still very weak, and our work is not 
 yet over. ]\Iy Adele, who keeps well, is going to write 
 to you, and assure you and your wife, once more, of 
 our filial and dutiful devotion. Victor. 
 
32 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 If my illustrious friend comes back to of&ce^ our 
 chances will be increased threefold. We have seen 
 much more of him since his disgrace ; we had lost sight 
 of him a good deal while he was in favor. 
 
 Let us hear from you soon. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Idth February, 1825. 
 
 I am adding a few words, dear papa, to our Adele's 
 letter. I wish I could add something to the expression 
 of her affection for you and your wife ; but I could 
 not express better than she what she feels as deeply 
 as I do. 
 
 As she tells you, I meant to send you the portrait 
 of your Leopoldine in an early letter, but I want you 
 to have a good likeness, and have already had it begun 
 over again two or three times. I will not delay any 
 longer to ask for news of you for ourselves, for Abel, 
 and all the Foucher family. 
 
 Rabbe, who came to dinner with us here yesterday, 
 spoke of you in terms of the most tender and respect- 
 ful attachment ; he is a kind and noble friend. 
 
 Louis sent us a splendid hamper of game a few 
 days ago, which we eat together, regretting much that 
 you were not here to share it. 
 
 Farewell, my dearest and best of fathers. I am 
 trying to get hold of some work for our stay at 
 Blois, to which we are looking forward with so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Our Didine is charming; she is like her mother 
 and her grandfather ; our love to her kind godmother. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Y. H. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 33 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 21th February, 1S25. 
 
 My dear Papa, — You will have seen that our 
 letters have crossed. I hope that our letter will have 
 given you as much pleasure as yours has us ; it could 
 not have brought us pleasanter news than that of 
 your speedy arrival, and in writing this I almost hope 
 it may not find you at Blois. 
 
 You cannot imaofine how much we are lookinor 
 forward to showing you our Leopoldine, wdio is still 
 very small, but quite well, and so charming ! — she will 
 love you both as we love you ; we cannot say more. 
 
 We are almost glad to have been without news of 
 you during part of the month, as you have been ill ; 
 we should have been so anxious. Now we have only 
 the pleasure of knowing you are quite well again. 
 
 Farewell, dear, kind papa ; I do not write to you at 
 greater length, as we shall soon be able to communicate 
 by word of mouth. 
 
 Whatever may be the business that brings you here, 
 you know you can count in all ways, and in everything, 
 on our devotion, as well as on our loving and dutiful 
 affection. 
 
 Give our love to Leopoldine's land godmother. 
 
 Victor. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Gentilly, Idfh June, 1825. 
 
 My dear Papa, — T am answering your letter from 
 the country, where I went to spend a few days witli a 
 friend of mine, who lives about six miles from Paris. 
 
 VOL. I. 3 
 
34 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I am sorry you are in the country too just now ; the 
 excessive heat, the loneliness and want of comfort of 
 La Miltiere, make me uneasy about your precious 
 health. I think you ought to have put off this journey, 
 however important it might have been, and not have 
 ventured alone into the arid regions of La Sologne 
 at this time of year. You know as well as I do what 
 unhealthy exhalations arise from damp and sandy places 
 in very hot weather, and my Adele scolds you gently 
 for giving us the anxiety of knowing that you are in 
 those parts. 
 
 The Paris newspapers have announced your pro- 
 motion in the most flattering terms. Never mind the 
 omission which they so often make. What does jeal- 
 ousy matter to you ? Your name and your reputation 
 are enough to excite envy ; make up your mind, dear 
 father, to bear this drawback to every high position. 
 
 I am not siu-prised to hear that your wife has not 
 received her copy ; I gave her parcel, with many others, 
 to Ladvocat to put in the post. You know how care- 
 less he is ; as I was lea\dng for the country, I was obliged 
 to depend on him for this, and I have already had 
 several complaints similar to yours. The messenger 
 who is going to post this letter in Paris will take with 
 it a sharp note to Ladvocat, and instructions to repair 
 this omission at once. If I had only one copy of it 
 here I would send it straight to your wife, but I hope 
 Ladvocat will be more careful this time. 
 
 I am glad that my Ode pleased you ; its success here 
 surpasses all my hopes. It has been reproduced in 
 seven or eight daily papers ; I am going to present it 
 to the King. 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 35 
 
 Farewell, my good father. I have only time to close 
 this letter and to send you my best love. My wife and 
 Didine send theirs to your wife. 
 
 We have been rather anxious about Didine the last 
 few days ; her teeth are worrying her. 
 
 I have this moment received a letter from Emile 
 Deschamps, who says : " General Hugo's promotion has 
 been a great pleasure to us ; is there any means of 
 sending him our congratulations and my respectful 
 compliments?" Every one is deHghted. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 Paris, 18th July, 1825. ' 
 
 My dear Papa, — I am really very sorry to be 
 obliged to send you the inclosed letter and memo- 
 randum. These two documents need a little explanation, 
 and here it is. A few days ago my old and worthy 
 master, M. de la Ei\4ere, called on me ; I was not at 
 home. He left word that he had something of impor- 
 tance to communicate to me ; I lost no time in going to 
 see him, as I always do when I think he may want me. 
 The worthy man then explained to me that his position, 
 bis age, and that of his wife, made it every day more 
 incumbent on him to remind me of a debt whicli he 
 had not mentioned before, thinking that neither your 
 means nor ours would allow us to discharge it ; but 
 that necessity getting the better of his excessive scru- 
 pulousness, he was at last forced to take this step. The 
 debt amounts to 480 francs, 80 centimes, and particulars 
 of it are given in tlie inclosed memorandum. I re- 
 member perfectly well our finding this account at my 
 mother's death among her papers, but I thouglit Abel 
 
36 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 had undertaken to send it to you, and I have since 
 completely forgotten the debt, which I thought had 
 been paid with a few other trifling debts left by my 
 mother, the greater part of which were defrayed at 
 the time by the sale of her plate and dresses ; besides, 
 I knew you had satisfied the other creditors, and I 
 thouofht M. de la Riviere was amonof their number. 
 
 As the matter was pressing, I consulted my wife, 
 and with her consent I hastened to send M. de la Ri- 
 viere a sum of 200 francs which I had at my disposal, 
 and with which I intended to buy myself a watch ; this 
 sum, dear papa, will be so much towards the total of 
 the debt, — giving up this watch is a very small privation 
 to me, and I can do it without inconvenience. Besides, 
 I know, my good father, that you are far from rich, and 
 as some of the expense incurred by M. de la Riviere 
 was on my account, these 200 francs Avill be my personal 
 contribution ; therefore you have to provide only the 
 remaining balance of 286 fr. 80 c. It is quite unneces- 
 sary for me to tell you, dear papa, how sacred a debt 
 of this kind is. The little we know, the little we are, 
 we owe in great measure to this venerable man, and I 
 have no doubt you will hasten to pay him, the more so, 
 as he is in need of the money ; he has nothing to 
 depend on but the proceeds of a small elementary 
 school, the slender income from which is diminishing 
 daily, his increasing weakness of body and mind causing 
 him to lose all his pupils by degrees. He has waited 
 for ten years, and with admirable delicacy, and that is 
 the only fault we can find with him, for I am sure you 
 would have settled his claim had you known of it 
 sooner. This is what I told him when I begged him 
 
TO HIS FATHER AND MOTHER. 37 
 
 to send in his account at once, that I might forward it 
 to you ; you will find it inclosed with the letter he 
 wrote to me. I will look for the old detailed memo- 
 randum, and if I find it among my mother's few remain- 
 ing papers, I will send it to you without delay ; in the 
 mean while you can consider his account as correct. 
 
 Farewell, my dear father ; my Adele begs you to give 
 her love to her two mothers, and to tell them that Juju 
 and Didine are in excellent health. All is going on 
 well here, and we are all anxious to get Mamma 
 Foucher back. 
 
 M. de la Riviere, elementary schoolmaster, lives in 
 the Rue Saint Jacques, opposite the Church of Saint- 
 Jacques-du-Haut-Pas. My best love to you. 
 
 Your devoted and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 The Kins: has sent me word that he has ordered 
 some porcelain to be forwarded to me, in addition to all 
 the other marks of his favor. This is the climax. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Paris, 31st July, 1825. 
 
 Dear Papa, — For the first time w^e are sorry to 
 hear that you will soon be coming to Paris ; the reason 
 is, that we are leaving it, and you will agree that it is 
 hard to go away just as you are arriving. 
 
 Our trip to Switzerland is really coming olT ; on 
 Tuesday, at five o'clock in the morning, we shall be 
 drivinc^ aloufj the road to Fontainebleau. I have been 
 sufferuiir a trood deal all the week from a still nock ; 
 l)ut I am better, and the journey will j^i^it me quite 
 riirht ajj^ain. 
 
38 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 "What I get from the publishers is more than enough 
 for our journey. They give me 2,250 francs for four 
 indifferent odes, which is good pay. I do not think 
 Lamartine will be able to join us; he has just been 
 appointed Secretary of Legation at Florence. Nodier 
 will be of the party. 
 
 I thank you for M. de la Eiviere ; I wrote to tell 
 him of your kind intentions, but I should have been 
 glad if you could have given him something before 
 the 1st of January. 
 
 Didine is wonderfully well. 
 
 Farewell, my good father ; our love to your wife, and 
 much to yourself. 
 
 Your dutiful and devoted son, Victor. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 Paris, 10th October, 1825. 
 
 My Dear Papa, — We have now returned to Paris 
 for good. We did nothing but run about here and 
 there all the month of September, and a few days ago 
 we brought our outing to a close with an excursion 
 to Montfort-l'Amaury, a charming little place about 
 thirty miles from Paris, with ruins, woods, and a friend 
 of yours and mine. Colonel Derivoire, who has served 
 under you. I talked a great deal about you with the 
 worthy man, who loves and respects you, and is very 
 anxious to see you. He hopes to pay a visit to Paris 
 the first time you are here. 
 
 As the season advances without bringing you, dear 
 papa, we almost despair of having the pleasure of seeing 
 you here this year. M. Lambert, however, had almost 
 promised all your friends that you would come. 
 
TO Ills FATHER AXD MOTHER. 39 
 
 It is unfortunately impossible for me to do anvtlilno- 
 for the professor whose letter you send me. I liave 
 much less interest than I am credited with, and I have 
 been obliged lately to use the little I may have with 
 the Bishop of Hermopolis to get a scholarship for one 
 of our Trebuchet cousins. I am not even yet sure of 
 success. You understand that all my efforts must be 
 directed to this object, wdiich is of such great impor- 
 tance to our unfortunate Uncle Trebuchet, and that I 
 could not trouble the Minister about another matter 
 without injuring his prospects. One may fall between 
 two stools. 
 
 Farewell, dear papa. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Yictor. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Paris, 3c? November, 1826. 
 
 My dear Papa, — You see you have not had to 
 wait long for the news. My Adele was confined last 
 night at twenty minutes to five A. m. of a healthy boy. 
 My poor darling suffered terribly. I am noAv writing 
 to you from her bedside ; she feels pretty well, but 
 she thinks she is rather feverish, so I beg her not to 
 talk. 
 
 Our kind parents will doubtless give a joyful welcome 
 to this new-comer, who will fill the place of the little 
 angel we lost so sadly three years ago. Your happiness 
 adds to ours. 
 
 I do not write more to you to-day, dear pa]Ki ; give 
 our love to your wife ; tell all our friends at Blois of 
 the birth of your grandson. 
 
 Abel and Melanie, Pierre Foucher's wife, will be god- 
 
40 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 parents to the baby, whose name we have not yet 
 decided on. He has already taken his food satis- 
 factorily. 
 
 Your loving and dutiful son, Victor. 
 
 Are you not coming to Paris soon ? we shall expect 
 you for the christening ; it would be a double fete. 
 
II. TO ADELE HUGO, AND OTHERS. — JOURNEY TO 
 REIMS. — CORONATION OF CHARLES X. 
 
 I. 
 
 To J. B. SouLiE, Hotel de Hollande, Rue Neuve des Bons 
 
 Enfants, Paris. 
 
 [Blois, 21th April, 1825, morning.'] 
 
 Do you know, my dear Soulie, that royal favors are 
 being showered on me just as I have come to Blois to 
 rusticate? The King appoints me Knight of the 
 Legion of Honor, and does me the signal honor of 
 invitino' me to his Coronation. You who love me will 
 rejoice, and I assure you that the pleasure this news 
 will give you greatly increases my own satisfaction. 
 There is such a community of feeling and opinions 
 between us, that I feel as if my decoration were yours, 
 as yours would be mine. 
 
 What enhances the value of this decoration in my 
 eyes is that I and Lamartine get it together, by a 
 special decree appointing us two only, because, as the 
 King said, it is a question of repairing an omission. 
 These two decorations are over and above those "iven 
 at the Coronation. 
 
 What adds a great charm to my journey to Reims is 
 the hope of making it with our friend Charles Nodier, 
 to wliom T wrote yesterday to tell liim to arrange so as 
 to travel witli me. I must add to all tliis, that ]M. de 
 
42 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 la Kocliefoucauld has been charming to Lamartine and 
 me in this matter. It is impossible for any one to put 
 himself more completely on one side, so as to let the 
 King have all the gratitude, or to show more grace and 
 delicacy in his intercourse with us. It is to him we 
 owe our decorations, and yet it is he who thanks us. 
 I owe this unqualified acknowledgment to a man to 
 whom justice is not always done. 
 
 So I am going to see you again, dear friend, and I 
 want this hope to soften the pain of parting from my 
 Adele for the first time. Tell this news to those of our 
 good friends to whom I shall not have time to write. 
 
 The penknife you have sent me is a handsome and 
 excellent one ; your drawing is charmingly quaint. A 
 thousand thanks, and, above all, thanks for your sincere 
 and tender friendship. 
 
 No one loves you more dearly than I do. 
 
 Victor. 
 II. 
 
 To M. FOUCHER.^ 
 
 La Miltiere, Vlth May, 1825. 
 
 My dear Papa, — The messenger sent by my father 
 to Blois has come back. He brings us mamma's land 
 letter to her Adele, which we read together, and a very 
 cordial letter from Victor Foucher, which gave us also 
 much pleasure. We expected to receive the cross of 
 the Legion of Honor, and the papers, etc., as well, 
 which you had told us would arrive at the beginning 
 of the week. We have been disappointed in this, and 
 my father would be glad if you would have the 
 kindness to call once more at the of&ce of the Legion 
 
 1 Mme. Victor Hugo's father. 
 
TO M. FOUCIIER. 43 
 
 to hasten their dispatch. My place is taken for the 
 morninir of the 19th, and if we do not receive all these 
 things hy the 18th at latest, I shall run great risk of 
 not heing ahle to wear my decoration at the Coronation, 
 which would be a breach of good manners, 
 
 I feel, my good father, how much trouble I am giving 
 you, and I am most deeply grateful for all your kind- 
 ness. Mamma Foucher's letter is as kind as herself ; it 
 is full of details that interest us. We are as deliohted 
 to hear of Juju's progress as of Didine's ; when we are 
 back in Paris, we shall have many questions to ask about 
 these children, and much to tell each other about them. 
 
 Will you add to all your parental kindness that of 
 paying our taxes, the memorandum of which has been 
 sent to mamma ? We will repay you this small sum. 
 
 Mamma tells us that the room at Reims is let for 
 three hundred and fifty francs, and that they are trying 
 to get a fourth person. Is this for the carriage or for 
 the lodging? You told me in your last letter that 
 Beauchene is making my coat. How did he get my 
 measure? I shall no doubt want knee-breeches, stock- 
 ings, shoes with buckles, steel sword, hat with steel 
 braid and feathers. Of what metal must the buckles 
 of the knee-breeches and shoes be ? Must I have shirt- 
 frills and cuffs ? 
 
 We are greatly distressed at the bad state of Mile. 
 Justine's health. Remember us to irood Mme. Dcs- 
 cliamps. M. Deschamps has written me a delightful 
 letter. Pray thank him for it until I can do so myself. 
 
 Aunt Asseline must take care of herself a little ; I 
 hope to find lier quite well when I see her again. Give 
 our kind regards to her and to her husband. 
 
44 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Paul ought to have received a letter from me to-day, 
 the first I have written from La Miltiere. This is the 
 second. I shall write the third to Charles Nodier. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, good father ; papa and his ex- 
 cellent wife, my Adele and her Httle chuhby-cheeked 
 Didine, send their love to you and Mamma Foucher, in 
 which I cordially join. You would hardly believe how 
 you are being talked about in Sologne just now. 
 
 Your tenderly devoted son, Victor. 
 
 Has my porter received any letters for me since we 
 left? I have received a most paternal one from M. 
 de la Riviere. 
 
 Continue to write to Blois. 
 
 III. 
 
 To Adele Hugo, care of General Couxt Hugo, Blois. 
 
 ORLI^ANS, I'dth May, 4 p. m., [1825]. 
 
 Here I am at Orleans, my Adele, and before dining, 
 before taking a rest, even before sitting down (for I 
 am standing up), I must write to you. You will receive 
 this unexpected letter to-morrow, and it is a great joy 
 to me, in the midst of all my depression, to think of the 
 pleasure this sheet will give you. Besides, I am really 
 so sad, that it will do me good to open my heart to you, 
 my Adele. You cannot think how long the time and 
 how great the distance have seemed to me since I left 
 you, my beloved. I feel quite depressed at the thought 
 of the forty miles which already separate you from 
 me, and of the eight hours which have passed with- 
 out seeing you. How will it be to-morrow, and the 
 day after to-morrow, and the next day, and the next ? 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 45 
 
 You must really pray to God, my Adele, my dearly 
 beloved Adele, to give me courage, for indeed I need 
 it, and this fortnight is an eternity to me. 
 
 But I see that instead of strengthening you it is 
 I who am weak, and that I am saddening instead of 
 consoling you. Forgive me, my Adele, it is a terril^le 
 thing to be alone, isolated, with cold, curious, or indif- 
 ferent faces around one, with no friend but one's purse, 
 as I am now, when one has got into the sweet habit of 
 finding your tender smile and your consoling glance 
 everywhere. 
 
 I shall be in Paris to-morrow, and I will write to 
 you at once. Be brave, my adored one ; take great 
 care of your little Didine, who is not a greater angel 
 than you are ; see that she has cut two or three teeth 
 by my return ; kiss her a thousand times. My love to 
 my good father and his excellent wife ; I will give the 
 same messages in your name at the same time in Paris. 
 
 We had a very good journey here. The roads are 
 first-rate, the weather fi.ne, though cold. I shall not 
 be hot to-night, but I shall think of you, and that ^ill 
 keep me warm. 
 
 Write to me to Paris from to-morrow; I will send 
 you my Reims address from Paris. How trying all 
 these honors are ! Many people envy me this journey ; 
 and they little know how unhappy I am over the good 
 fortune which excites their jealousy. 
 
 Farewell, dear angel ; farewell, my Adele ; take care 
 of yourself. I embrace you very tenderly from very 
 far oil'. Do not cry and spoil yoiu- pretty cheeks. I 
 want to find them fresh and rosy on my return. 
 
 Tell my good father that I was asked on the journey 
 
46 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 if I was going to join my regiment^ etc. This was on 
 account of my ribbon. 
 
 Once more, farewell, and once more a thousand kisses 
 and caresses. 
 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 Open my letters, should any come for me, and 
 give me a brief summary of their contents. Farewell, 
 farewell once more. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To ADt:LE Hugo. 
 Paris, Friday, 20th May, 7.30 A. m., [1825]. 
 
 You will not have read my first letter, my beloved 
 Adele, by the time that I am beginning a second one 
 to you. Here I am m Paris; I breakfasted with your 
 dear parents, whom I found just the same as ever, 
 taking as much care of me here, as mine do of you 
 down there. I still have the sound of the diligence in 
 my ears ; I am bruised and stunned by its jolting, still 
 I have no difficulty in collecting my thoughts to write 
 to you; they are all merged in one, and that is you, and 
 always you, and only you ! You were the companion 
 of my sleepless night ; you amused me during the 
 monotonous and insipid talk on the journey ; you gave 
 me the strength of mind to part from you, and you 
 will keep up my courage during this never-ending 
 absence. Do not read all I write to you to any one 
 but our dear parents ; others might think our grief 
 ridiculous, and it is no use making them laugh at Avhat 
 gives us pain. 
 
 Our journey went off well, though all the arrange- 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 47 
 
 ments for my places had been so badly made, that I 
 always found myself where I ought not to have been, 
 thanks to the stupidity of the innkeeper's wife at Blois. 
 I had no ill effects from the cold, and hardly any from 
 the fatigue, but my depression and ennui have not left 
 me, and are increasing. If I do get an inspiration at 
 the Coronation, it will not be from my cheerful Muse. 
 
 I find a lot of letters, parcels, papers, books, etc., 
 here. I inclose you Soumet's letter; it will please both 
 you and my good father. Take great care of it. I 
 found most kind congratulations from Villemain dated 
 AjJril 21th; he invites me to dine with him on the 1st 
 of last May, and begs me not to fail him. So you 
 see, he has had to w^ait some time for me. I will write 
 to him and explain the reason of my absence and my 
 silence, and I will call on him. 
 
 Now I must leave you, my adored angel, for I have 
 a thousand and one things to attend to. I must begin 
 my visits. I gave your letter to your kind mother, 
 who sends you and yoiu* Didine many loving kisses, 
 but not as many as I do. Your good father joins us 
 in this ; he is still cheerful, cordial, and amusing, like 
 mine, though in a different manner. Give my love to 
 my noble and charming father, and to her who is one 
 flesh and one heart with him. I commend you to their 
 lovins" care. You must be on even better terms with 
 them than with me. They are so kind that this will 
 be no difficulty to them. 
 
 I am writing to you from our bedroom, where every- 
 thing makes me feel my widowhood more acutely. 
 Everything seems strange to me here without you. 
 Coming into Paris, I admired it like a provincial. It 
 
48 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 seemed as if it were not my own country. You are 
 my true home. Write to me every day. 
 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 Write me one letter liere^ and all the rest Poste 
 Restante, Reims. I dine with Mile. Duvidal on Sunday; 
 she is touching up the little picture, and working at 
 Juju's portrait. Juju has grown prettier. Ask papa 
 to write to Victor Foucher to thank him for sending 
 his book. A few kind words will suffice. 
 
 V. 
 
 To Adele Hugo. 
 
 Paris, 21st May, [1825]. 
 
 This is my only happy time throughout the day, 
 my Adele. I am going to talk to you and forget 
 for a moment all my troubles, fatigues, worries, and 
 difficulties. You are with me in my mind, and no- 
 thing can distract my thoughts from you. You will 
 see this sheet, you Avill touch it, it will be with you 
 twelve or thirteen days in advance of me, it will be 
 like a messenger of whom you will ask a thousand 
 questions. I envy it ! 
 
 Well, I have been here since yesterday morning, and 
 I will tell you how I have spent my time. When I 
 arrived I found your father and mother still in bed. 
 Paul threw his arms round me, and then all the ques- 
 tions began. We had breakfast ; your father made me 
 some lobster sauce, the coffee and milk were excellent. 
 After breakfast I wrote you the letter which you will 
 get to-day. As I returned from posting it myself, 
 Mile. Julie was going upstairs to see me. I dressed and 
 
TO ADELEIIUGO. 49 
 
 went down to lier studio, where the questions began 
 again. How is Adele ? and Didine ? and the General ? 
 and his wife ? The good woman is as fond of us as if 
 we belonged to her. She showed me Didine's portrait, 
 which is nearly finislied and is delightful ; and Juju's, 
 which she has begun on a large canvas. I think she 
 will do a small one to match the other, at least so your 
 mother tells me. Juju's is a very good likeness and 
 very pretty. Her round face has grown longer, and 
 she looks quite the little woman. Coming away from 
 Mile. Duvidal (with whom we dine on Sunday), I went 
 on foot to see Beauchene. Destains and Jules Marechal 
 congratulated me. Beauchene showed me my coat, 
 which fits well ; it is very ugly, but very fashionable. 
 I have still to get my knee-breeches made, to hire or 
 buy a sword. There were so many people at M. de la 
 Rochefoucauld's that I did not go in there. Abel was 
 at Beauchene's shop. I gave my good old brother 
 everybody's love. He is always driving about in pursuit 
 of the six millions, which he hopes to get. Then I went 
 to see Soumet, who is, as you know, always good and 
 kind ; he offered to lend me his knee-breeches. He 
 came back with me by the Tuileries as far as the begin- 
 ning of the Rue du Bac. I went to get my pension 
 at the Home Office, where I was congratulated on my 
 decoration. After that I went to see Adolphe and 
 Mme. Dumenil, neither of whom was at home. I have 
 ordered a pair of boots, a pair of shoes, and a pair of 
 pumps, which I shall have by Sunday evening. Com- 
 ing home, I looked in on our porter, who told me that 
 the Abbe Lamennais had called, among others. I must 
 not forget to tell you that I have also seen Rabbe, 
 
 VOL. I. 4 
 
60 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ■who gave me heaps of kind and affectionate messages 
 for you and our dear parents at Blois. Abel and 
 Beauchene dined with us. After dinner I refused to 
 go to the theatre with your people. It would have 
 been too sad without you. I have been to see Charles 
 Nodier. Our poor friend has just lost his mother-in- 
 law. All the house was di-aped in black. Still I tried 
 to cheer the ladies, although I am not very merry my- 
 self. Our good Nodier, who knew I was coming, had 
 been expecting me all day, first at lunch and then at 
 dinner. He is short of money like me. It appears 
 we shall not receive any before the journey. We start 
 Tuesday morning with the artist Alaux. The carriage 
 there and back will cost four hundred francs. If we 
 can get Taylor's room we shall have it for nothing. If 
 not we must take what we can get, and we shall have 
 to pay what we are asked. I hear we shall be in a very 
 good position for seeing the ceremony. Our places, 
 they say, are perhaps the best of all. The journey 
 will only take two days, and we shall arrive early on 
 Wednesday. I am to go and see Nodier again on 
 Monday morning and take him my things. 
 
 I got home last night at eleven o'clock, after having 
 been to the play to fetch your mother. I slept last 
 night from sheer fatigue, and I saw you in all my 
 dreams. It was a sad night to me, for it is the first 
 I have passed away from you in a strange bed. This 
 morning I have just seen our good friend the Abbe 
 Lamennais, who is still taken up with his T\Tetched 
 troubles. He asked most affectionately after you, 
 talked to me a great deal of Didine, and was as delight- 
 ful as he always is. I shall see M. de la Rochefoucauld 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 51 
 
 to-day. I shall order my knee-breeches. And to do 
 all this, I am obliged to finish this letter. Your poor 
 aunt is very ill. M. and Mme. Deschamps, M. and 
 Mme. Frangois, send you and our dear parents all sorts 
 of kind messages. If the Viscount does not give me 
 any money, your father will lend me some, and can 
 repay Imnself when it is sent to me. 
 
 Farewell, dear Adele, farewell, beloved; what a pang 
 it gives me to close my letter so soon! When shall I 
 receive one from you ? Your kind parents are particu- 
 larly attentive to me. They send their love to you, to 
 your Didine, and to my parents. Tell my good father 
 not to overtire himself with head work, and to go out 
 walking. My love to your Blois father and mother. 
 You know how I love you. Farewell for to-day. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To Adele Hugo. 
 
 Paris, 22d Mmj, 12.30 p. m., [1825]. 
 
 I come in depressed and sad as usual, and I find 
 your letter of the 19th of May. What a pleasure ! but 
 how is it, my beloved Adele, that I have nothing later 
 than the 19th ? Your letter must have been posted on 
 the 20th and should have arrived yesterday. I ought 
 to have had one of the 20th to-day. Do you realize 
 that we have been parted for four days and three 
 nio'lits? What an ag-e it seems! and how I lono; to 
 hear all you have been doing during all this endkvss 
 time that I have been away from you ! IIow lonely I 
 am Jiow that you are no longer there ! What courage 
 we have had, dearest, and must still have! You should 
 now be receiving my third letter, and I have had only 
 
52 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 one from you ! Only see how unlucky I am ! I still 
 hope to receive one to-morrow ; after that I shall have 
 no happiness till the 26th, the day we arrive at Keims. 
 You know we start the day after to-morrow, Tuesday 
 morning. At Keims I hope to find a hig packet of 
 your sweet and tender letters which do me so much good, 
 and of which your loving heart alone has the secret. 
 
 Keep poor Augustine, my Adele, you are right, it is 
 doing a kind action, in which your good mother at 
 Blois will be glad to join you. Keep this poor orphan ; 
 we will take her with us as she is so devoted and grate- 
 ful. These quahties are too rare to go unrewarded. 
 Later on we will arrange matters as best we can. Keep 
 her, but tell her all she owes to you, to make her zeal- 
 ous and careful. 
 
 Do not worry, but do not restrain yourself. If you 
 want to cry, do so. Tears which are checked do harm, 
 those which flow freely do good. I only wish I knew 
 how to weep. But my heart is always sore, because 
 my eyes are always dry. 
 
 Your kind parents continue to be most attentive to 
 me. Thank mine for me. Tell my good father it is 
 just like him keeping that bottle of wine for drinking 
 my health. Tell his wife that every one here loves her 
 and that they are quite right. We are always talking 
 of Blois ; speaking of my father yesterday, Mile. Duvi- 
 dal said there was nothins^ in the world nobler or more 
 worthy of respect than an old soldier who had gained 
 his promotion by great deeds and distinguished talents. 
 That is my opinion too, but I was glad to hear it come 
 from this generous and elevated mind. I was delighted 
 to hear my father spoken of as I speak of him myself. 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 53 
 
 as I shall always speak o£ him, and as posterity will 
 speak of him. 
 
 I now return to my diary. I saw M. de la Roche- 
 foucauld yesterday ; he was very amiable, and told me 
 to come and see him at Reims. Our fourth travelino- 
 companion will be M. de Cailleux. He says he is tak- 
 ing this journey in order to be with me. I w^anted to 
 see the Minister of War ; but he was in the Chamber. 
 His secretary will give me the information that I wanted 
 to <ret from him. From the War Office the cab drove 
 me to my tailor, of whom I ordered my knee-breeches. 
 Passing by the Palais-Royal I saw Ladvocat, wdio is 
 already trying to get my coming Ode. Even if I do 
 write one, I do not know what I shall do wdth it. 
 My third edition is getting on, but is delayed by the 
 engravings. I went to see Yillemain. His mother 
 ofPered me a window for you on the line of the King's 
 route. Alas ! dearest, how this offer saddened me. I 
 finished the day's business by a visit to my printer, wdio 
 is still busy over the title and the cover. I fear I shall 
 not be able to bring back the third edition to Blois. 
 Ladvocat wants to publish the Ode at the same time 
 separately, with notes, preface, and all the rest of it. 
 He would get it inserted in installments in all the papers, 
 which are now, he tells me, very well disposed towards 
 me. Here are plans for you ! If only they do not 
 delay my return, that is all I ask of a kind Providence, 
 and I hope it may be so. 
 
 When I came back your father gave me a note for a 
 thousand francs, which he borrowed from one of his 
 friends. So now I am in funds again. Biscarrat dined 
 with us, and in the evening we played our usual Satur- 
 
54 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 day game of ecarte with MM. Paulin, Frangois, Carlies, 
 etc. How dull all that is ! 
 
 This morning I paid a visit to our flat, where every- 
 thing is in capital order. I saw Mme. Deveria. Her 
 sons were not at home, and I left all my father's stars, 
 etc., with her. So now that is all arranged. M. 
 Louis Dutes brought me his father's sword, which has 
 a very handsome hilt. But before I can wear it I must 
 have the scabbard and belt altered. Would it be best 
 to do that, or to hire or buy one? It is difficult to 
 combine smartness with economy. For I must be 
 economical, it is not my money. I shall, however, be 
 obliged to change the buttons on the coat that Beau- 
 chene has just sent me. 
 
 I no longer feel fatigued, but I am still depressed. 
 This is a complaint that wall last another twelve days. 
 I must make the best of it, but how difficult it is to live 
 without you, my darling Adele, even for a few days ! 
 
 Farewell. All goes on as usual here. Every one 
 sends you their love. Kiss my Didine a thousand times. 
 
 Your letter is sweet ; go on writing to me always. I 
 kissed the place you had kissed and where your tears 
 had fallen. 
 
 Good-by, my angel. I fear my letter to-morrow w^ill 
 be very short. To-morrow I must pack and get my 
 luggage put on the carriage. I have an appointment 
 with Lamennais at ten o'clock, and with Nodier at 
 eleven. Deveria will come at nine. I shall get up 
 early to write to you, if Frangois will leave me free in 
 the morning. Farewell, my Adele ; farewell, my Didine. 
 
 I need not tell you to give my love to our dear 
 parents ; that is a matter of course. 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 55 
 
 VII. 
 
 To ADi:LE Hugo. 
 
 236? May, 1 p. m., [1825]. 
 
 I am writing to you, my own Adele, on Nodier's 
 table and with his pen. I have just had breakfast witli 
 this true friend and with Rabbe and Soulie, who sends 
 you a carnation, also Avith Taylor, who is drawing some- 
 thing for you. Our plans are now settled. AVe start 
 at six o'clock to-morrow morning. Don't be uneasy ; 
 all will be ready, the suit, shirt-frills, under-linen, sword, 
 etc. I dined with Mile. Julie yesterday as it was her 
 birthday. We drank your health. My own Adele ! 
 how I love you ! I have still a thousand things to see 
 to. I must pack. Farewell. Kiss my Didine on her 
 sunburnt cheeks, kiss her a thousand times. My love 
 to our dear parents at Blois. I kissed your letter a 
 thousand times. How precious it is to me ! What a 
 beautiful letter ! How full it is of regret and tender- 
 ness ! I shall get another to-day, I hope, and I am now 
 going home to find it. Farewell, farewell, I am still sad. 
 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 \ 
 
 I hope to write to you to-morrow on the journey. 
 Farewell, my adored angel. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To TUE Same. 
 
 Paris, 2Uh Mm/, [1825]. 
 
 It is five o'clock in the morning, my beloved angcL 
 In an hour I shall have left Paris, and I cannot leave it 
 without writing to you once more. I am tearing a leaf 
 
56 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 out of my traveling pocket-book which will return to 
 Blois sooner than it expected. That is a happiness I 
 cannot look forward to. This does not mean that I 
 shall not be back by the time we hoped. Above all, do 
 not worry. 
 
 You are asleep at this moment, my own Adele ; but 
 at least be with me in your dreams. I do not know 
 how much pleasure my letters give you, but why have 
 you been so chary of yours? I might have had one 
 yesterday ; why did I not get it ? I must postpone this 
 pleasure till I get to Reims, and I can now only have 
 any happiness in going still farther away from you. 
 
 Reims ! I hardly know what I shall do then. Can 
 I think of aught else but my absent Adele, who is 
 thinking of me ? 
 
 Give me plenty of details about Blois. I tell you 
 everything I have the time to write about. The rest 
 must wait for our Ion 2: talks to2:ether. Mile. Duvidal 
 dined with us yesterday, and we drank to my Adele and 
 her Didine. Mile. Zoe, who is charming and whom I 
 love because she loves you, made me up a collar, and 
 begged me to tell you she was taking your place (but of 
 course only in this). In the evening I took m}^ things 
 to Nodier's house, and I am going back there now ; we 
 start from there. When I come back I vdW bring you 
 the famous Eno;lisli translation of Han cVIslande with 
 Cruikshanks' admirable etchings. They are not pleas- 
 ing, but they are terrible. 
 
 Farewell, Adele ; so I am off on my travels again. 
 What is the good of traveling ? Have I not found my 
 happiness? On what planet, in what sphere, should I 
 find an angel like you ? 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 57 
 
 Farewell ; a thousand caresses to you and my Didine ; 
 tell her from me she must not cry at night. 
 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 You ought to receive a letter every day. I will 
 always try to arrange for this. Still you must remem- 
 ber I shall he travehng for two days. We shall not 
 arrive till the day after to-morrow. We shall sleep on 
 the road. Every one here sends love to you, and begs 
 you to give the same to your father and mother on 
 the banks of the Loire. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To Adele Hugo. 
 ViLLERS-CoTTERETS, 25th May, 7 A. M., [1825]. 
 
 I wrote to you yesterday, my own Adele, on Nodier's 
 paper and table ; to-day I write to you on the paper and 
 at the desk of our charming fellow-traveler Cailleux. 
 We are at Villers-Cotterets, where we have arrived after 
 a drive of two hours and a half. We spent the night 
 on four improvised beds in the village of Letignon, and 
 had to pay nineteen francs for this bad lodging and 
 some bad soup. Nodier is not very well, and since 
 yesterday Alaux complains of constant nausea; they 
 are, however, always kind and cheerful ; M. de Cailleux 
 and I are the only ones who keep well. The prices 
 of everything are exorbitant on the road. Everything 
 is crowded. The inns are filled to overflowing with 
 travelers, and the roads with carriages. The latest 
 comers cret even less than the bones. It is like a lllglit 
 of locusts devouring everything. But do not be anx- 
 ious, dearest; oiu' decorations, our four manly voices, 
 
58 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 and our good ap23earance will, with tlie help of God 
 and our purses, procure us all we want. 
 
 My delight at approaching Reims is indescribable. I 
 shall find letters there from my beloved Adele. What 
 
 Farewell, my adored one. I have only half an hour 
 in which to write to you and to breakfast. I should 
 like to give up breakfast, and spend all the time in 
 writing to you, but my friends are waiting for me. 
 How sad it is for me, my beloved Adele, to be away 
 from you, for I have now no pleasure left but that of 
 writing to you. I hardly know what I am writing. 
 My heart is full. Farewell. All our friends drink 
 your health, and Charles Nodier, oiu' good friend 
 Charles, bids me give you his warmest regards, and his 
 best respects to my kind father. My best love to him, 
 as well as to his wife, whose motherly care makes up 
 for mine. I send you a thousand kisses. Farewell, be- 
 loved. Kiss papa's little pet on both her cheeks. 
 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 X. 
 
 To Ad^le Hugo. 
 
 Reims, 21th May, 7 a. m., [1825]. 
 
 Where shall I begin, my beloved ? with the delight 
 your letters gave me, or with my arrival at Eeims ? You 
 are very anxious to hear all the details of my journey, 
 and I am most impatient to tell you how happy your 
 letters have made me amid all my depression. Each 
 time I open one of your letters, my own Adele, I tremble 
 with hope and fear. At one o'clock yesterday afternoon 
 we got to our lodgings at Reims, and without even wait- 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 69 
 
 ing till my trunks were brought up, I ran to the post- 
 office. There I found your third letter. I was much 
 distressed to see that you had not received my letter of 
 the 21st by the 23d, for I had given a franc to a mes- 
 seno'er to take it to the general post-office, which was 
 cleared earlier on account of Whitsuntide. I explain 
 this to you, dearest, lest you should tliink it possible for 
 me to remain a day without writing to you. This piece 
 of ill fortune happened to me yesterday, and it tortured 
 me all day. I wanted to write to you from Thormery 
 during breakfast, but we had hardly time to snatch a 
 morsel, and besides I wished to wait for your letters, 
 which I expected to find at Reims. I have been want- 
 ing to write to you every minute since we got here, 
 but the endless matters of business and duties which 
 take up every moment here have hardly left me breath- 
 ing-space. I hoped to write to you before going to 
 bed, but we all four share the same room, we all go 
 to bed at the same hour, and not one of us would take 
 the liberty of keeping his candle alight. 
 
 Besides, fancy the untidiness of these four beds, of all 
 the lusfiraire of four men strewn about in a room about 
 two thirds the size of your room at Blois. But I have 
 not lost any time ; the post had gone when we arrived, 
 and this letter will reach you as soon as if it had been 
 written yesterday. I am vexed at this delay for my 
 own sake only ; I should so like to have combined the 
 pleasure of reading a letter from you with that of writ- 
 ing one to you. How deliglited I am to hear about 
 Didine, my own Adele — so she has a tooth, and it has 
 come tlirougli without pain ! Kiss her a thousand times, 
 and tell her papa is much pleased with her conduct on 
 
60 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 this occasion, and that he will bring back some nice bis- 
 cuits from Reims for mamma, which will make her milk 
 taste all the sweeter. Tell Auo^ustine to sro on servinor 
 you well, and I shall be pleased with her. 
 
 Now I will go on with the details of our journey. 
 We dined at Soissons yesterday ; it is one of the pret- 
 tiest towns in France, in a deHghtf ul valley, and with 
 two splendid churches. One, the Cathedral, has been 
 restored, that is to say, shamefully mutilated. The 
 other, the church of Saint-Jean, was ruined during the 
 Revolution. It still has two magnificent spires, and 
 the remains of cloisters the destruction of which is greatly 
 to be deplored. One is sorry to be a Frenchman when 
 one sees such profanation committed by Frenchmen on 
 French monuments. On leaving Soissons we rearranged 
 the luggage on the carriage. I\Iy portmanteau, which 
 is an old one, had been put on its side, and the screws 
 had given way ; it had come open, and so had the box 
 with my cross, and the ornaments it contained were 
 tumbling about outside it. AVe thought everything 
 was spoilt. But I got off with a little dust in the port- 
 manteau and a few scratches on my two medals, which 
 had been rubbinix ao-ainst each other. This does not 
 diminish the value of the gold medal, and jNI. de Cail- 
 leux undertakes to make everything right by having 
 the medal restruck. We slept at Braine, a pretty, well- 
 built village, which has another ruined church as fine 
 as the Abbey at Jumieges, the drawings of which you 
 have seen in Nodier's Voyage Plttoresque, Leaving 
 Braine at half-past three yesterday morning, we reached 
 Reims at one o'clock. There another accident hap- 
 pened. Nodier's trunk had given way ; all his things 
 
TOADELE HUGO. 61 
 
 got covered with dust and he lost three collars, where- 
 upon we said : Pity the man who travels without his 
 wife. On arriving I went to the post and the diligence 
 office, and found your letters, my sword, and my knee- 
 breeches. I read your letters with rapture during a 
 heavy shower, which I hardly noticed. I arrived at the 
 front of the Cathedral without looking up, and I had 
 been there ten minutes before I saw it. I was read- 
 ing your letter, my beloved ! Nodier and M. Emmin, 
 the deputy for Besangon and a friend of his, joined 
 me there. We dined together at the Grand Hotel du 
 Sacre. M. Emmin, who is a charming fellow-country- 
 man, treated us, so we shall have to give him a dinner in 
 return. Everything is terribly expensive. After dinner 
 we had to go to the play. What a nuisance ! There I 
 met our good friend Beauchene, whom I like to talk to 
 you about. We got home at eleven, went to bed at 
 midnight, got up at six, and I am writing to you first 
 on Cailleux's desk and then (at this moment) on M. 
 de la Rochefoucauld's bureau, whom I came to see 
 and who is out. 
 
 He is just coming in. I must finish this letter. 
 Farewell, my own Adele. Embrace your kind parents. 
 Tell my father Nodier wants to see him a Peer of 
 France, and says that this honor must be conferred on 
 so worthy a man. If only Nodier were King ! Fare- 
 well again, dear angel ; I embrace you in the way you 
 know so well, just as I kiss your adorable letters. 
 
 We leave on the 31st. Write to me at Paris after 
 the 28th. Farewell once more, and one more kiss. 
 
 I will soon write to my father. 
 
62 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To Ad^^le Hugo. 
 
 Reims, '11th May, 3.45 p. m., [1825]. 
 
 What a disappointment, my own Adele ! no letter 
 to-day ! In your last letter you scold me a little. It 
 was not my fault. Nor do I suppose you are to blame 
 for this delay, hut whatever has caused it, I am much 
 distressed. Just imagine with what impatience I look 
 forward to a letter from you in my lonehness, and what 
 a blank I feel when I have been to the post in vain. 
 All the pleasure of the day is at an end for me ; I have 
 but one comfort left, and that is to read your dear 
 letters over and over again, and kiss them a thousand 
 times. I have not the courage to tell you about the 
 Cathedral, and what I have admired or criticised in it. 
 Good-by for to-day, my beloved ! My letter would be 
 too sad, and you are quite sad enough already ! I will 
 write more to-morrow. I shall then be nearer to receiv- 
 ing a letter from you, and therefore less miserable. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 28//i May, 9 a. m., [1825]. 
 
 I slept very badly last night, so I was dozing this 
 morning, and consequently did not get up till rather 
 late. My companions wanted to take me to the Abbey 
 of Saint-Remy, but I have to write to you, and in spite 
 of their entreaties, I will pour out my heart to yours. 
 Shall I get any news of you to-day, my darling Adele? 
 I must have some; I want two letters. Failing this, I 
 shall think you are ill, for I will not beheve you are 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. G3 
 
 careless ; of course you feel as I do : your health may 
 alter, but not your love. Is it not true, darlinj^, that 
 you love me, and that I shall get two more letters to- 
 day to put next my heart ? I must have that hope to 
 o'o on with this letter. 
 
 Wellj I went to look at the Cathedral yesterday. It 
 is an admirable monument of Gothic architecture. The 
 western front, the rose-window, and the towers make a 
 wonderful effect. Charles and I spent a quarter of an 
 hour looking at the arch of one door ; a year would 
 be required to examine and admire everything. The 
 interior as it is now is far less imposing than it was in 
 its old simplicity. The old granite has been painted 
 blue, the severe style of the sculpture has been disfig- 
 ured with gilding and tinsel. Still the mistake made 
 at Saint-Denis has been avoided here. The ornaments 
 like the Cathedral are Gothic, and everything is in 
 pretty good taste excepting the throne, which, absurdly 
 enough, is in the Corinthian style. The general eifect 
 is satisfying to the eye, and a good deal of thought 
 about the arrangement of the edifice is necessary to 
 see that complete advantage has not been taken of it. 
 Such as it is, this ornamentation shows what progress 
 romantic ideas have made. Six months ago the old 
 church of the Franks would have been made into a 
 Greek temple. 
 
 We spend our days in going about and our evenings 
 at the })lay ; we cannot escape this, as we lodge in the 
 house of the director of the theatre. Everything was 
 dear enough wlion we arrived, and prices are rising and 
 will rise still higlier. Yesterday lunch and dinner for 
 us four cost eighty-one francs. An omelette costs lif- 
 
64 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 teen francs, a dish of peas thirteen, five rolls forty-two 
 sous, etc., etc. 
 
 I have seen Agier and Chazet. I have not yet met 
 the Vicomte de la Kochefoucauld, nor the Minister of 
 War. The King is to arrive to-day at noon. Our 
 companion Alaux has painted a very fine picture which 
 will grace the banqueting-hall. 
 
 Our friends are most agreeable. I gave Nodier the 
 medal I got as member of the Academy of the Floral 
 Games ; he much wishes to be a member himself ; and 
 Cailleux, who is appointed Officer of the Legion of 
 Honor, has given me his small Knight's cross, which is 
 charming. I shall introduce you to them all in Paris, 
 and also to our De2)uty Emmin, who is quite prepared 
 to hke you, and whom you will like very much. He 
 drank your health yesterday. 
 
 Thank your kind mother Mme. Hugo, my Adele, for 
 the little frock she has given Didine. I was much 
 touched by this. How does the little pet's tooth get on ? 
 
 Best love to our kind parents. Farewell, my adored 
 Adele ; now my letters will be shorter and less frequent : 
 the Coronation takes place to-morrow. Only love me, 
 and do not be anxious about anything. I shall very 
 soon see you again. I think one could almost die of 
 such happiness. Farewell, my angel ! 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To Adele Hugo. 
 
 2Sth May, 3 p. m., [1825]. 
 
 What I am about to write to you, my Adele, is for 
 yourself alone. I have just read your two letters; they 
 have made me very unhappy. I do not care for Keims 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 65 
 
 any longer, I am on thorns. What, you are left alone, 
 alone in your isolation ! They are inattentive and cold 
 to my beloved Adele, and this in my father's house ! 
 I am not angry, darling ; I am grieved, deeply grieved. 
 Knowing as I do your sweet temper and my father's 
 unbounded kindness, I am astounded at what is <roinn^ 
 on. You have the right not only to kindness and 
 attention, but to paternal tenderness and solicitude, to 
 more perhaps than you receive from me. My poor 
 dear father! if he could but look into my heart at this 
 moment, he would see what intense pain is mingling 
 with my infinite devotion to him and my deep love for 
 you. I shall write to him as soon as I have time, but 
 do not be uneasy ; my letter will be skillful enough to 
 avoid wounding his feelings, and yet make him see it 
 all. There ! I am dreadfully distressed, but you have 
 the consolation, have you not, of my love, which is such 
 as you deserve ; it is respectful and tender as that felt 
 for angels ; it is infinite and eternal. 
 
 Farewell for to-day, my beloved ; I am too depressed 
 to tell you that the King has just entered Reims, that 
 M. de la Rochefoucauld expects me this evening, that I 
 shall have to be up at three o'clock to-morrow morning, 
 that I am tired with running about all day. All this 
 has lost its interest for me. I am sad, sadder than ever. 
 But make yourself easy, we will put this right. Your 
 Victor, your husband, your protector is coming back, 
 and then you wall have all you want. If this continues 
 for a quarter of an hour only, we will go back to our 
 own home and forget everything, except my father's 
 kindness. 
 
 Your own Victok. 
 
 VOL. I. 6 
 
66 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To Adele Hugo. 
 
 6 p. M., [28iA May, 1825]. 
 
 Get into the habit of numbering and carefully dating 
 your letters, as I do ; I have sometimes to guess at the 
 time when they were written ; and you must know, my 
 darling Adele, how sweet it is to say to one's self, At 
 the moment I was doing so and so, she ivas lorlting ! 
 Besides, I have only received four letters as yet, and I 
 think I ought to have had more ; if your letters were 
 numbered, I should be certain about it. Don't think I 
 am blaming you, my adored angel ; if I do find fault, 
 it is very tenderly, and it will please you. Oh ! my 
 Adele, how I love you ! 
 
 Since I received your two letters, I can think of 
 nothing else. I thought I was so sure of your being 
 properly treated. It seemed to me that my absence 
 would make this a sacred duty. Thank Mme. Brousse 
 very much for her friendliness, wliich I much appre- 
 ciate as it comforts you, and also for the attentions she 
 pays you, which should come from another person. Do 
 not worry, however. Of what consequence to you is 
 the good or bad humor of a stranger on whom you 
 are not and never will be dependent ! Love my kind 
 father well, who loves you so much ! Above all, my 
 Adele, pour out your heart to me, tell me everything. 
 My Didine is a hundred times dearer to me, as she is 
 a consolation to you ; kiss her a thousand times on her 
 sweet little mouth, wliich is not fresher than yours. 
 
 I have just seen Sosthene, who is always very agree- 
 able. He has given me the private entree. He told 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. 67 
 
 me the King had asked if I was here. I am nervous 
 about what they expect of me. My head is suffering, 
 and my heart is so sad. How can I compose anything 
 for a joyful occasion ? Our friends, and especially 
 Nodier, send you their kindest regards. Farewell, be- 
 loved ; I kiss you on your eyes, so that they may not 
 weep any more. 
 
 XV. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Reims, 2Wi May, [1825]. 
 
 We have seen the Coronation, my Adele ; it is a 
 deeply interesting ceremony. Alaux is going to make 
 you a present, for which you will thank him as much 
 as you love me : he is sending you my portrait, which 
 Nodier considers very clever. You must thank this 
 new, but worthy friend very warmly ; I need not com- 
 mend the portrait to you. Farewell, beloved. No 
 time for more. I expect two letters from you to-m^or- 
 row. I did not get one to-day, and I was sad all day. 
 I hope you are less so. The day for my return draws 
 nearer and nearer. Many kisses for you and my 
 Didine. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Reims, 30/7i May, [1825]. 
 My kind father will explain to you, dearest, the all- 
 important reasons which compel me to take you with 
 me to Paris as soon as I return to Blois, which will be, 
 I liope, on the morning of the 3d. 
 
 Thank my good and worthy father very much, and 
 be ready. No time for more. I won't say farewell, 
 beloved. I leave lleims to-morrow, the 31st. 
 
68 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To IVIme. Foucher, Paris. 
 
 Reevis, 3l5f May, 1825. 
 
 My dear Mamma, — "We leave Reims this morning, 
 after having seen all the splendid Coronation ceremo- 
 nies. I shall be with you the day after to-morrow 
 morning, the 2d of June, about noon, and I shall start 
 off again for Blois the same day at six, if there is 
 room in the coach. 
 
 As I have many matters to attend to, and above all 
 the Ode that I must write, I shall doubtless return to 
 Paris at once, bringing Adele and Didine "svitli me. 
 My presence there is absolutely necessary. 
 
 Besides, we shall not complain of a circumstance 
 which brings us back sooner to our kind family in 
 Paris. 
 
 Farewell, my dear mamma, best love to our kind 
 father, and beheve in the tender and dutiful affection 
 of your son, Victor. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To Adi^le Hugo, care of General Couxt Hugo, Blois. 
 
 Reims, ?>l»t May, 1825. 
 
 We are just starting, my Adele ; in two days I shall 
 be in Paris, and in three at Blois. What joy to see 
 you again ! There are many drawbacks to this joy : we 
 must leave Blois at once, and I was looking forward to 
 six weeks' rest there. But a number of very important 
 reasons oblige us to make this sacrifice. So get every- 
 thing ready for our departure. 
 
 I have just seen Roger, who is here as deputy. He 
 has helped me greatly about getting to Blois at once, 
 
TO ADELE HUGO. G9 
 
 provided the seats are not all taken. But he cannot 
 give us any places for the return journey ; the only 
 chance would be if the mail happened to be empty, and 
 we cannot take them from Bordeaux, as several towns 
 on the road have a prior right to the seats, in case the 
 coach is empty. 
 
 I have also just seen M. de Chateaubriand off. I 
 was the only one to do so. 
 
 The ceremony of conferring the royal orders took 
 place yesterday ; it is a fine sight. The dress of the 
 Knights is magnificent. I will describe it all to you 
 later, beloved. I shall have much more to tell you 
 that I cannot w^ite about, but in three days ! . . . How 
 slowly these three days will pass ! 
 
 I warn you once more that the coach called " La 
 Pompe " is detestable. See if there are many travelers 
 by the "Grandes Messageries," and if there are, then 
 in that case only take the three front places in " La 
 Pompe." 
 
 Farewell, my adored angel ; if anything should hap- 
 pen to prevent my arriving at Blois the morning of the 
 3d, as I hope to do, don't be anxious ; the reason wdll 
 be that the mail was full. Besides, I may have time to 
 send you a few lines again. A thousand lo\dng kisses. 
 Your own Victor. 
 
 Tell our parents how grateful we are to them, till I 
 can do so myself. Tell my father that I talked about 
 him a great deal yesterday with a deputy of the Doubs, 
 M. Emmin, who is a friend of Baroness DeleleVj my 
 godmother. 
 
 And how is my Didinc ? 
 
in. TO VARIOUS PERSONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 To Adolphe Trebuchet, Nantes. 
 
 Paris, 2()th April, 1820. 
 
 I AM following Abel's example, my dear cousin, and 
 I begin by dropping all ceremony, because I hope that 
 our relationship, which excuses familiarity, will soon be 
 reinforced by friendship, w^iich authorizes it. Indeed, 
 when I reflect that your kind and affectionate letter is 
 dated the 14th of March, and that I am replying to 
 it on the 20th of April, I confess I am ashamed of 
 the delay ; and the reason which my brother Abel gives 
 you for it, good as it is, does not reassure me so much 
 as my confidence in your friendship and in the indul- 
 gence of your family. 
 
 Even if we could have doubted it, your letter would 
 have proved to us, dear Adolphe, that you are a royalist 
 like ourselves. We congratulate you on this, and we 
 regret we are not Bretons born, like you, for we are all 
 Vendeans at heart. I hear that you and I are about 
 the same age, and I congratulate myself on this too ; it 
 is another point of resemblance between us. 
 
 Farewell, my dear Adolphe ; I hope that our kind 
 relations at Nantes will read the Conservateiir lit I Cr aire 
 with indulgence, and that you will soon give us news of 
 all the family, and especially of my aunt, whose state 
 
72 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 of health causes us much uneasiness. Mamma has been 
 very poorly and languid for the last year, but is now 
 getting somewhat better. 
 
 Remember me to my cousins, whom I have never 
 seen, but for whom I have always felt a fraternal affec- 
 tion. 
 
 Your affectionate cousin, Y. M. Hugo. 
 
 II. 
 
 To THE SaJIE. 
 
 29;A May, 1820. 
 
 It is a stran<re effect of misfortune that we should 
 already have to discharge the most sacred duties of a 
 friendship of which w^e have barely formed the first ties, 
 and that we should be required to condole with a family 
 we have never seen, on the death of a relative we have 
 never known. We all go on our way in this wretched 
 life at a distance from each other ; we love each other 
 without ever having met, and often (the sad event which 
 has deprived us of an aunt proves it but too well) we 
 lose those we love before they have even smiled on us. 
 
 You see, my friend, that your letter has engendered 
 very painful reflections in my mind. Forgive my ram- 
 blings, and, above all, pray forget that I have been 
 selfish enough to speak to you of my grief before think- 
 ing of alleviating yours. I feel strongly the extent of 
 the loss which you have just suffered, and I can only 
 sympathize with your distress. It is said that sympathy 
 renders sorrow less acute ; if so, dear friend, no sorrow 
 has ever been more truly sympathized with than yours. 
 
 Do not, I implore you, give way to despair, Adolphe ; 
 be a man ! Think of your good father, of your sis- 
 
TO GASPARD DE PONS. 73 
 
 ters. Best assured you will see your mother again ; it 
 is impossible that we can part like this forever. You 
 are pious, and your piety will give you courage. 
 
 Forgive this incoherent letter, and love me as I love 
 you. With best love, your attached cousin, 
 
 V. M. Hugo. 
 
 III. 
 
 To Gaspard de Pons. 
 
 My friend, I know not what reply 
 To make you for your pleasing lines, 
 Pleasing, but spoilt by flattery. 
 The learned fountain has run dry, 
 Phoebus is deaf, the winged steed 
 Is old, and only soars on high 
 To find his stall and evening feed. 
 
 Go on ; pursue your fancy's bent -, 
 
 Let the Graces have your life. 
 
 To the Muses give your leisure ; 
 
 Sing of Hymen and its strife, 
 
 Sing of Love and all its pleasure ; 
 
 Follow on poetic wing 
 
 The sentimental amorous crew. 
 
 But try to raise a gayer strain ; 
 
 The Sisters Nine will scarce disdain 
 
 Your suit, nay, victory must ensue 
 
 In the end, for ribald tongues maintain 
 
 That the chaste maids with favor view 
 
 Poets of somewhat wanton vein. 
 
 / wait for death, with unconcern. 
 
 Whether it early come or late ; 
 
 A passing guest, resigned to fate, 
 
74 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Not knowing wlien 't will be my turn 
 From life's great banquet to adjourn ; 
 What matter if I quit the scene 
 Like Chatterton, who at eighteen 
 Passed to the undiscovered bourne ? 
 May Heaven release me from this coil 
 Of suffering mortality. 
 Your Muse, my friend, will give me life, 
 If my Muse makes me die. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To Adolphe Trebuchet. 
 
 Paris, 11^^ July, 1820. 
 
 It is a settled thing, my dear Adolphe, that I shall 
 always have to apologize to you, and you to excuse me. 
 Rest assured that, when my replies to your letters are 
 so long in coming, the reason is that time is lacking, 
 and not good will. As for you, my dear cousin, as you 
 doubtless have more leisure than I have, pray devote as 
 much as you can of it to our correspondence. 
 
 I am very selfish in asking you to do this, but you 
 must put it down to the pleasure which your letters 
 give us. I, for my part, thank you for the interesting 
 details you have been good enough to send me about 
 the noble peasants of La Vendee, and for those con- 
 tained in your letter of the 3d of July about the Trap- 
 pists of Melleray. Your description of this abbey does 
 credit to your heart and to your head. Continue, my 
 dear Adolphe, to let us share in your ex23editions in this 
 way until we can do so in reality. 
 
 There is much talk of the dissolution of the Chamber. 
 The Minister Simeon, who wants to go on with his 
 
TO ADOLPIIE TREBUCIIET. 75 
 
 jobbery, is strongly opposed to a measure which wouhl 
 bring in a royalist majority. It is said that Decazes 
 has received the Cordon Bleu, and that he will not 
 wear it until the coronation o£ George IV. Three weeks 
 ago the Ministry was offered to M. de Villele, who re- 
 fused it. 
 
 The unfortunate affair of the Due de Richelieu and 
 General Donnadieu has apparently been hushed up. 
 As there were no eye-witnesses, nobody knows what to 
 make of it. 
 
 Farewell, my good cousin ; I leave the rest of this 
 letter to Abel, who wants to send you a few lines. 
 Eugene will answer your letter to-morrow. We are in 
 the throes of a move which obliges mamma to put off 
 the answer which she hoped to send to your father's 
 letter, and to ask me to convey all her thanks. Farewell 
 once more ; take care of yourself, give my respects to 
 your father, and my compliments to your sister. With 
 kind love, your faithful friend, 
 
 y. M. Hugo. 
 
 P. S.^ — As Abel has mentioned the departure of His 
 Majesty Due de Decazes to you, I will tell you a curious 
 and little-known fact connected with it. The papers 
 announced that he had left on the 10th at foiir o'clock 
 in the afternoon, whereas, in reality, he went off before 
 daybreak. The reason of this is, that the Duchesse 
 Decazes had insisted on her husband startins: before 
 Mme. Crinstot (the duke's sister), whom she wishes to 
 deprive of the honor of a triumplial entry into London. 
 Mme. Crinstot is in tears. It was she who did not leave 
 
 ^ Postscript to Abel Hugo's letter. 
 
76 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Paris till four o^clock. Discord, it appears, has crept 
 into the honorable family, and war has broken out. 
 
 I had these details from a nohle peer, who had them 
 from a good authority : you may consider them authentic, 
 
 V. 
 
 To Adolphe Trebuchet. 
 
 21st September, 1820. 
 
 All my friends complain of me, my dear Adolphe ; 
 they call me lazy, careless, ungrateful. But you know 
 that I have not as much leisure as I should like, and 
 that if I had the time to write to you whenever I wish 
 to do so, you would receive a daily record of my sayings 
 and doings at Nantes. However, the time will soon 
 come when we shall not want a bit of paper and a long 
 interval to exchange ideas and assure each other of 
 our mutual afPection. 
 
 Hasten, my dear friend, that time wlilch your cousins 
 in Paris are so much looldng forward to. Remember 
 that the beginning of the term makes it necessary for 
 you to be here by the 1st of November at the latest ; 
 follow your affection, and come sooner. We all want 
 to see you and embrace you so much ! . . . Beg your 
 good father and our kind cousin to forgive these selfish 
 entreaties, and to put them down not to egoism, but 
 to our warm affection for you. Farewell, Adolphe ; 
 write soon, and come soon. We all send you our kind- 
 est love. 
 
 Your friend and cousin, V. M. Hugo. 
 
 We are still expecting the destruction or the salvation 
 of the Monarchy, viz., Madame de Berri's child. 
 
TO COUNT ALFRED DE VIGNY. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To Count Alfred de Vigny, hth Regiment of the Royal Guards^ 
 
 Rouen, 
 
 [1821.] 
 
 Your letter, Alfred, was written on the IStli, and I 
 am answering it on the 21st ! We are separated by three 
 days only, and these three days are like three years; 
 distance is nothing, — it is the separation that matters. 
 Thirty leagues, which prevent us from seeing each other, 
 separate us as much as a thousand. One must be with 
 one's friends to enjoy them. Once parted from them, 
 the amount of the distance is of no account. Therefore, 
 my dear friend, the only consolation I derive from your 
 place of exile being near me is that you will come back 
 from it all the quicker. However, our sejoaration is 
 enough to make me melancholy, and I assure you that 
 I should pity those who survived you if the sun that 
 rose on your grave was no brighter than the friend you 
 have left behind you. 
 
 Your letter found me here, overdone, wearied, worried, 
 and, what is worse than all, dull ; you can imagine what 
 an impression it made on me, and what a happiness it 
 was to me. I read it over again, word by word, as a 
 beggar counts the coins one by one in the purse wliicli 
 he has picked up. I saw with delight that you have 
 not forgotten me, as you write to me, and that you are 
 doing something better than thinking of me, as you are 
 composing poetry. But that, again, is terribly tantaliz- 
 ing ; — what ! we are only thirty leagues apart, and I 
 shall not have a chance of hearing these hues. Wliy 
 don't we have roots mstead of feet, since we are fixed 
 
78 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 like wretched plants to a spot which we cannot leave ? 
 Why are our aspirations, our desires, our affections 
 removed so far from us, if we are doomed never to 
 follow them ? My dear friend, solve the question, and 
 I will put you some more, for the cup of bitterness 
 is inexhaustible. 
 
 I think you must have monopoHzed all the inspira- 
 tion this month, for I have not had any for a single 
 moment. I have written nothing. The Government 
 asked me for more lines on the baptism [of the Due 
 de Bordeaux], which I shall not write unless I get an 
 inspiration. You are a lucky man, Alfred ; you never 
 strike the rock in vain, and when you have turned out 
 some hundreds of splendid verses you call them lines, 
 to console those of your friends who cannot even pro- 
 duce any lines which they would call verses. 
 
 I had, however, begun a story which amused me but 
 for the trouble of writing it ; then came this request 
 about the baptism of the Due de Bordeaux, and then 
 bothers about the fusion of the Conservateur Jliieraire 
 and the Annates, I have let the whole thino- slide. 
 
 Lefevre is still undecided, Sou met is writing some 
 superb poetry, Pichot is looldng for his manuscript, 
 Emile [Deschamps] goes on promising us Le foil die 
 roi, Gaspard [de Pons] is making merry at Versailles, 
 Kochet is weeping at Grenoble, by the bedside of his 
 father, who is dangerously ill. Saint -Y airy is spending 
 Easter at Montf ort ; all of them love you and embrace 
 you, but none more tenderly than I do. 
 
 It is very disagreeable, Alfred, to be able to commu- 
 nicate by letter only. Here I am compelled to stop 
 for want of paper. Is it really worth while to travel 
 
TO COUNT JULES DE RESSEGUIER. 79 
 
 about in order to exchange ideas without getting an 
 answer, to intrude upon one's friend's gay thou<Thts 
 with melancholy remarks, like two instruments which 
 answer each other from afar off with different airs, 
 because the distance prevents those who are playinp- 
 on them from striking up the same one ? Farewell ; I 
 embrace you, ashamed of having told you so little, and 
 tired of having put so many words on paj)er. 
 
 Abel's [Hugo] meetings at the Bonnes lettres are a 
 great success. I have not read or had anything read 
 since Qutheron, I had a charming letter from M. 
 de Chateaubriand, in which he told me this ode 7noved 
 Jiiin to tears ; I repeat this praise to you, my friend, be- 
 cause it will convince you as well, you who possess the 
 official record of the interment of this work. What is 
 it by the side of your adorable Symetlia! I regret 
 that I cannot return your charming mark of friendship 
 by signing myself Alfred ; but, at all events, as you 
 sign yourseK Victor^ I am sure that that name will be 
 always illustrious. 
 
 Your affectionate friend Victor. 
 
 Abel will write to you immediately ; he is delighted 
 with your letter. If I go to Roche-Guyon, it cannot be 
 before the month of August. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To CouxT Jules de Ress^guier, Toulouse. 
 
 July, 1821. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — You may have read of 
 my terrible misfortune in the papers. I have lost my 
 mother. 
 
80 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I should have long ago had to reproach myself for 
 not having responded to all your kind marks of friend- 
 ship had it not been for her illness and death. 
 
 You did not know my noble mother, of whom I do not 
 speak, because I could not speak of her as she deserves ; 
 but I am sure you will sympathize with my grief, and 
 if your pity for me equals my affection for you, it will 
 be great indeed. 
 
 Your devoted servant and colleague, 
 
 Victor M. Hugo. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To CoxiNT Alfred de Vigny, Rouen. 
 
 Dreux, 20^/i July, 1821. 
 
 You will have no idea, my good Alfred, where this 
 letter is written from ; I am at Dreux ; that is to say, not 
 far from you, without, however, being able to join you. 
 This is how it happens that my weary, exhausted frame 
 is now in this ancient Druidical country. One of my 
 friends, who is starting for Corsica, and who just at 
 present is living in a villa between Dreux and Nonan- 
 court, asked me to spare him a few days, and as he was 
 leavino^ so soon I did not refuse. 
 
 So here I am since yesterday, seeing Dreux, and mak- 
 ing arrangements to go on to Nonancourt. 
 
 I walked the whole way, under a burning sun, and 
 without a bit of shade. I am very tired, but very 
 proud of having done twenty leagues on foot. I look 
 on all carriages with contempt ; if you were with me 
 at this moment, you could not see a more conceited 
 biped. When I think that Soumet must have a cab 
 to take him from the Luxembourg to the Chauss^e 
 
TO COUNT ALFRED DE VIGXY. 81 
 
 d'Aiitiu, I am tempted to believe myself a superior beinor 
 to him, from an animal point of view. This experience 
 has tauo'ht me that one's le^^s are made to walk with. 
 
 I owe a great deal to this journey, Alfred ; it has 
 cheered me a little ; I was tired of that dull house. I 
 am alone here, but I was alone there, too. Only my 
 present isolation has something more material about it. 
 
 I spent a day at Versailles with our good friend Gas- 
 pard. You have written to him; perhaps you wrote 
 to me too, and your letter may have arrived in Paris 
 during my absence, to give me pleasure on my return. 
 I lilve to think of this. I hope you have not forgotten 
 the fine poetry that you promised me. Dear Alfred, 
 you are a lucky man, and a poet ; I simply vegetate. 
 
 The only ruin here is that of the chateau of Dreux ; 
 I went to see it yesterday evening, and I shall do so 
 again this morning, and have a look at the cemetery. 
 I was pleased with the ruins. Fancy old flint towers, 
 covered with lime, of different sizes, with ruined battle- 
 ments, and connected by large walls in which time has 
 made still more breaches than storming parties ; amidst 
 all this, corn and lucern growing, and above it a tele- 
 graph, by the side of which the mortuary chapel of the 
 Orleans family is being constructed. 
 
 This white, unfinished chapel contrasts with the black, 
 ruined fortress ; it is a tomb rising on the debris of a 
 palace. From the foot of the telegraph-tower you can 
 see wooden crosses, weather-beaten stones, and clumps 
 of trees in tlie western valley ; this is the cemetery. In 
 the eastern valley is the town. The two valleys there- 
 fore have a different population. 
 
 n'' 
 
 Tliere are no Druidical monuments. Dreux gave its 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
82 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 name to the Druids, and they have left no traces there. 
 I am sorry for them, for the town, and for myseK. 
 
 The banks of the little river in which I bathed on my 
 arrival here are very pretty ; I was walking there just 
 now under the aspens and birches, and I thought of 
 all our friends who are together in the great valley, and 
 are all, perhaps, forgetting us. 
 
 But you, AKred, who are alone like myself, you 
 thought of me, did you not, while I was thinking of 
 you in my sadness and isolation ? 
 
 Farewell ; this letter is merely to let you know that I 
 am still in the land of the living, and to prove to you 
 that you have a friend who is trying to make light of 
 misfortune, who thinks Hke a man and walks Hke a 
 horse. 
 
 My love to you ; take care of yourself, and write 
 to me. 
 
 Your devoted friend, Victor. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To M. Trebuchet, chief of the Secretariate and of the Archives 
 
 at the Frefecture, Nantes. 
 
 ^Ist October, 1821. 
 
 My dear Uncle, — It is a long tune since I thought 
 of writing to you to claim our Adolphe. Now that our 
 tiresome move is nearly over, I am able to tell you that 
 our fourth brother mil live with me and Eugene on 
 the second floor of the house, of which we inhabit the 
 ground floor and the first floor. Our new apartment 
 consists of two fine rooms with fireplaces, and the rent 
 is only two hundred francs. Abel lives in a third floor 
 in the next street, so it is almost as if he were living 
 
TO M. TREBUCnET. 83 
 
 with us. His rooms are larger than ours, so they will 
 be of use for entertaining our friends this winter. 
 Adol2)he will find every one here as full of affection for 
 hmi as we are; they have often spoken of him to us, 
 and have a most pleasant recollection of his wit and 
 his amiabihty, and, like me, they look forward to his 
 return with impatience. The day on which my good 
 Adolphe arrives will be a very happy one for me, and I 
 have so few that I really have the right to count them. 
 
 The day when I shall be able to see you as well, my 
 dear uncle, will indeed be one of the best, and is already 
 one of the most wished for in my life. Let us hope 
 it may come soon, and that the Providence which has 
 taken our beloved mother from us will not keep us 
 long separated from our dear, kind uncle. 
 
 My dear mother loved Adolphe as much as we do ; 
 we do not ask the same favor from his father, as we are 
 not nearly so deserving of it. 
 
 We read all you w^ere good enough to send us with the 
 deepest interest, especially that in which we recognized 
 your practiced pen. I read your article on the anti- 
 quities of Brittany to some sai'cmts, who were equally 
 struck by its scientific research and by the author's lit- 
 erary ability. 
 
 Farewell, my dear uncle ; I am sorry to leave off wi'it- 
 ing to you, but business always comes in the way of 
 pleasure. With my love, I beg you to believe me to be. 
 
 Your devoted nephew, Victor. 
 
 My brothers beg me to send you their affectionate 
 regards. 
 
 Adulphe, make haste and pack up ! 
 
84 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 X. 
 
 To Count Jules de Ress^guier, Toulouse. 
 
 1th November, 1821. 
 
 My dear Count and Colleague, — I should really 
 be too much ashamed to write to you again, if my 
 conscience were not set at rest by all the worries which 
 have hitherto prevented me from answering your kind 
 and affectionate letter. You must pity me for all the 
 suffering I have gone through, and all the troubles that 
 have come upon me. Why should our great sorrows be 
 always followed by a crowd of petty annoyances and 
 paltry vexations which do not even allow us to rest in 
 despair ? I have had many experiences of this kind, 
 my dear, good friend (allow me to use this title which 
 you have bestowed on me, and which I value most 
 highly) ; I have climbed every rung of the ladder of 
 misfortune, and yet in my greatest troubles, as well as 
 in my most tedious cares, I have never thought without 
 real delight of the consolations of your friendship, 
 which I deserve so little, but to which I cling as if I did 
 deserve it. For the last six months domestic troubles 
 and family affairs have inflamed and aggravated a 
 wound which will Ions: continue to bleed. You never 
 knew my noble and admirable mother, my dear col- 
 league; you are not aware of what I have lost; but you 
 cannot imagine anything which would surpass the truth. 
 
 I do not think you have been angry with me for a 
 moment for my long silence. You are so kind, your 
 consideration for me is so delicate and so generous, that 
 I should not have apologized if it had not been a relief 
 to me to do so. 
 
TO COUNT JULES DE RESSEGUIER. 85 
 
 I take advantage of an opportunity given me by our 
 dear A. Soumet to send you with this letter three 
 vohimes of the Conservateitr Utteraire ; it is one of my 
 own copies, and I beg you will excuse its rough exterior. 
 I am much vexed at the neglect which has made you 
 wait so long for these unlucky volumes. I would have 
 sent them sooner if I had been up to anything, but I 
 am good for nothing but to love you. 
 
 You have doubtless w^ritten some pretty verses that I 
 have not seen ; if you w^ould be so kind as to send me 
 some of them, I should take it as a favor and as a s-reat 
 mark of your friendship. 
 
 Farewell, my dear colleague. Allow me to believe 
 myself to be and to subscribe myself the most devoted 
 of your friends. Victor. 
 
 My respectful compliments, if you please, to the 
 Countess. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To CouxT Jules de Ress]6guier, Toulouse. 
 
 nth January, 1822. 
 
 My dear Count akd Colleague, — I take advan- 
 tage of a quiet leisure moment to inquire about your 
 health and your friendship ; both are of great value to 
 me, and I really do not know which I prize most. If 
 you were to ask me which, I could only answer like the 
 child who said : / llhe them both best. 
 
 Alexander, who is still unwell or lazy, has, however, 
 finished his Send, which I prefer to his Chjtcmnestre, 
 which again I prefer to everything that has appeared 
 on the French stage for the last fifty years. I am 
 looking forward impatiently to the performance of one 
 
86 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 or other of these fine tragedies^ which is fixed for the 
 month of March at the latest. I should much like to 
 see Saul acted first ; this thoroughly original work, as 
 stern as a Greek play and as interesting as a Germanic 
 drama, would at once show Soumet in all his grandeur. 
 The day which witnesses Alexander's triumph will he a 
 glorious one for me. 
 
 I shall perhaps send the Academy this year an ode 
 on Le devouement dans la peste for one of its public 
 meetings ; at all events, it will not contain any pohtical 
 views. 
 
 And you, my dear colleague, what are you doing in 
 the land of the Troubadours ? Soumet showed me 
 some charming verses which you sent him lately. 
 When I opened the Almanach des dames I was greatly 
 surprised to find in it your touching and graceful elegy, 
 La consolation dhme mere, which, with some lines by 
 Soumet, made me forgive the editor for his indifferent 
 choice of the other pieces in the collection. 
 
 Your devoted friend, and unworthy colleague and 
 servant, Victor M. Hugo. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To the Abbe de Lasiexnais. 
 
 Paris, 17th May, [1822]. 
 
 I wanted to send you with my answer, my good 
 friend, the collection of odes which I am now pubHsh- 
 ing ; but there is some delay in printing them, and I 
 feel I must tell you how much your last letter delighted 
 and consoled me. I have therefore decided to write to 
 you without waiting for the book, which, however, will 
 reach you quite soon enough. 
 
THE ABBE DE LAMENNAIS. 87 
 
 It is a great charm to me to see your mind, so 
 vigorous and profound in your works, become so gentle 
 and intimate in your letters ; and when I think that it 
 is to me that you appear thus, I am quite proud. I 
 shoidd like some one to tell you what a blank your 
 absence makes among those I love, and with what 
 feelings of gratitude and eager joy I hear from you. 
 When I read one of your letters it seems to convey 
 just the consolation I want for the pain I am feeling at 
 the moment. The words of a friend have such power 
 that they can alleviate every sorrow on every occasion. 
 Simple and tender, they constitute the one universal 
 remedy for the sufferings of the mind. And with whom 
 can this truth be felt more strongly than with a friend 
 like yourself? 
 
 You have confirmed me in the conviction I have 
 long held, that a great man loves with his genius as he 
 writes with his heart. 
 
 Thank you very much for the correction you have 
 pointed out to me. You Avill see in my book if I am 
 ready to take a hint. I only regret that you were not 
 more severe, and did not oftener consult your excellent 
 taste when you read these two odes. You would cer- 
 tainly have helped me to get rid of many blemishes, 
 and this would have made me still more grateful to you. 
 However, you vnll see from my numerous corrections 
 that I have tried to make the work as free from faults 
 as possible ; and you will, I know, be satisfied mth these 
 good intentions. 
 
 I am much touched ])y the interest you take in my 
 business connected witli the Kino-'s Ilouseliold. I am 
 now assured that the promises which have so long been 
 
88 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 dangled before me will be fulfilled in less than six 
 weeks. I am eagerly awaiting the time which will settle 
 my future, and enable me to live and be happy. So 
 many material circumstances are often necessary for the 
 realization of the purest and the most ideal of dreams. 
 Farewell, dear and illustrious friend ; write to me, — 
 your letters do me so much good ! Let the remembrance 
 of me be sometimes in your thoughts, and my name 
 sometimes in your prayers. Victor. 
 
 Pray tell me how the third volume of your admirable 
 work is progressing.^ 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To Count Jules de Ress:6guier, Lomhez {Gers). 
 
 Paris, 2Q,th May, [1822]. 
 
 I was in the country, my dear Jules, when your kind 
 letter and charming ode reached me. I read this tender, 
 graceful httle poem with keen pleasure and gratitude, 
 and found only one stanza, or rather, only one word, 
 de trop in it. But I value this stanza highly, because 
 it proved that you sometimes thought of me, even in 
 moments of poetic inspiration. 
 
 I carried out your instructions and sent the ode to 
 Soumet, and showed him your letter, and it certainly 
 was an excellent way of getting the delightful verses 
 out of Michel which you ask me for ; I will send them 
 with my own collection, which will appear in a few 
 days, and to which they will serve as an introduction. 
 
 In the collection is a short ode written some time ago, 
 and addressed to the Academie des Jeux Floraux, in 
 
 1 Uindifference en matiere de religion. 
 
TO ADOLPIIE TREBUCIIET. 89 
 
 which you will find a faint resemblance to your CJanence 
 Isaiire, This coincidence has pleased me, and given me 
 a better opinion of the lines. 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend; I received a letter from 
 M. de la Martiniere lately, inclosing a few lines from 
 you ; pray thank him for it. I have done all I could 
 for his ode, but he owes me no thanks for this ; I 
 acted as if it had been for you. Farewell ; thank you 
 ao-ain for your verses ; I like them, they convince 
 me much more strongly of your friendship than of my 
 own talents. V. M. H. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To Adolphe Trebuchet, Nantes. 
 
 3d September, 1822. 
 
 I have been putting off my answer from day to day, 
 my dear Adolphe, in order to be able to give you the 
 news of Mme. Foucher's confinement. After six weeks 
 of great suffering she gave birth yesterday to a little 
 girl with large black eyes. The courage displayed by 
 dear Mme. Foucher was as great as her sufferings, and 
 that is saying a good deal. She and the child are now 
 going on very well. I have no doubt, my dear friend, 
 that these details about a family whom you like, and 
 who reciprocate the feeling, will interest you ; that is 
 why I hasten to send you them. 
 
 I hope very soon to have a still more interesting piece 
 of news to give you, and I have no doubt that my Nantes 
 father and brothers will rejoice in my ha]ipiness. It 
 seems to me that it will be enhanced when I know tliat 
 tliey share in it. . . . The article your kind fatlior 
 promises to write on my odes will certainly be most wel- 
 
90 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 come to me, and I know beforehand that I shall find in 
 it, besides his indulgence and affection, all the wit and 
 elegance which distinguish his style. . . . Do not show 
 your father this passage in my letter, for I might be 
 accused of trying to influence my judge when I am only 
 speaking the truth. 
 
 Now let us talk about you, dear Adolphe. The de- 
 scription you gave me of all your pleasures delighted 
 me ; for the moment I felt as if I shared them all. A 
 day will soon come when, in order to do this, I shall 
 not want you to tell me about them in your letters. 
 
 M. de Lamennais, who has come to Paris for a few 
 days on business, has made me promise to go to Brittany 
 next year : I had already promised others to do so. 
 He told me a great deal about the monuments at 
 Locmariaquer and Carnac, etc. ; and to see them with 
 this illustrious friend w^ould doubtless add greatly to 
 the attraction of the journey ; but I should also lilve 
 to see them with you. 
 
 As for me, dear friend, my affairs are getting on, and 
 I hope that by the first fortnight in October I shall 
 attain to the great happiness of my life. Rejoice w^th 
 me, Adolphe ; you will find me a happy man indeed, 
 when you see me again. Tell my dear uncle how greatly 
 I appreciate his affectionate and touching letters ; tell 
 all your family how much I love them, and how I long 
 to see them. You know all this without my telling it 
 you in a letter. 
 
 Farewell ; my brothers send you their love, as I do. 
 Give a thought, sometimes, to your Paris brother. 
 
 Victor. 
 
TO COUNT JULES DE RESSEGUIER. 91 
 
 XV. 
 
 To CouxT Jules de Ressiiiguier, Toulouse. 
 
 Paris, Q,th September, 1822. 
 
 What is this I hear from Durand, my friend ? Can 
 I beheve this piece of good fortune ? You are coming 
 to Paris, and I know nothing of it, not even from you ! 
 Fortunately I have a friend at Marseilles to tell me what 
 another very dear friend is doing at Toulouse. Anyhow, 
 write to me, Jules, to confirm this good news, which 
 I have already given Soumet as certain. I am apt to 
 believe in what gives me pleasure. 
 
 Still, I do not believe everything in your kind letter ; 
 it was a delight to me to see that it was full of praise, 
 because all this praise is dictated by your friendship for 
 me. There is one confidence in this letter which touched 
 me greatlyo You refer to an angel whose acquaintance 
 I had already made through our friend Alexander, of 
 an angel who loves you, and whom I love the better for 
 doing so. 
 
 I forwarded your letter to Guiraud, who had already 
 started for Limoux when I received it. I did not 
 venture to add a letter of my own to such a pleasing- 
 missive. 
 
 Soumet is going to have his plays acted almost simid- 
 taneously at both theatres, so that he will obtain a double 
 triumph ; he has made some very fine alterations in his 
 masterpiece, Saill. You will see ! I promise you you 
 will be as pleased with the beauty of the work as witli 
 the glory of the author. I consider Said and Chjtan- 
 7iestre the two finest tragedies of the age, and in no 
 way inferior to the masterpieces of our stage. 
 
92 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Farewell, my dear, good friend. Soumet was de- 
 lighted with your note. But he is going to write to 
 you, and will tell you this much better than I can. 
 As for me, I can only tell you how dear you are to me. 
 Give my compliments to Mme. de Resseguier. If only 
 you had started when this letter arrives ! . . . 
 
 Victor. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To Adolphe Trebuchet, Nantes. 
 
 22d August, 1823. 
 
 I have been intending to write to you for a long time, 
 my dear Adolphe, but my paternal cares were followed 
 by the worries of the christening. The delicate state of 
 my wife's health having deprived her of the happiness 
 of nursing her child, we were obliged to put it out to 
 nurse. At first we placed it quite close to us, but the 
 Parisian nurse to whom we had intrusted it because she 
 complied with the necessary physical condition, unfortu- 
 nately did not possess the required moral qualities. We 
 were therefore compelled to take the child away from 
 her; and my father, to whom we applied, sent us a 
 splendid nurse from Blois, whom he will take back with 
 him when he leaves Paris, and who will live in his house, 
 be boarded and lodged with the household, and nurse 
 the baby there. In this difficulty my father proved a 
 true father to us. 
 
 As one of the founders of the 3Lise frangaise I was 
 entitled to two subscriptions to it ; I have given one to 
 my own father, and the other to yours, who is a second 
 father to me. Let me know if he has received the two 
 first numbers of the publication, which I ordered to be 
 sent to him. During our move from Gentilly I unfor- 
 
TO THE EDITOR OF THE JOURNAL DES DEBATS. 93 
 
 tunately mislaid the letter in which you told me the 
 way to forward you the second edition of Ilan. Will 
 you kindly send me the address again ; I will inclose a 
 few prospectuses of the Muse^ which I will ask you to 
 distribute in Nantes. 
 
 This publication, to which the pick of our young 
 writers contribute, such as Guiraud, Lamartine, Soumet, 
 etc., is having an extraordinary success. It has already 
 more than paid its expenses, and we hope to have 1500 
 subscribers in six months. 
 
 Farewell, my dear Adolphe ; my father, my wife, 
 Abel, and all the Foucher family love you and embrace 
 you as I do. Victor. 
 
 Eugene's physical health is good, but as to the state 
 of his mind. . . . Still, Dr. Royer Collard has not 
 given up all hope of restormg our dear patient to his 
 right mind. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To MoxsiETJR Z., editor of the Journal des Dehats. 
 
 [1824]. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I see with real concern that you have 
 misunderstood me both in point of form and in sub- 
 stance. I cannot imagine how you can have interpreted 
 as a command my — as it seems to me — very polite 
 request to you to publish my reply to your article, and, 
 aljove all, how you could have made an apology for 
 my new odes out of what is only a somewhat mild refu- 
 tation of your ingenious paradox on the classical and 
 romantic schools. 
 
 You are good enough to promise to go through the 
 new odes for a second and last time. I am flattered at 
 
94 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 being the object of so mucli attention on your part ; 
 but I own I expected more a rejoinder to my reply than 
 a fresh article on these odes. I am not going to defend 
 these compositions, which are so open to criticism in 
 every respect ; but I think that, when you have shown 
 with great ease that my verses are bad, you will still 
 have to prove that your literary theory on the classical 
 and romantic school is not wrong ; and that, allow me 
 to tell you, dear sir, is the real point at issue. 
 
 Permit me also to tell you that I am not prepared 
 to adopt the expression " romantic " until it has received 
 a generally accepted definition. Mme. de Stael has de- 
 fined it very well, and I abide by the meaning which 
 she gives to it. 
 
 However this may be, I shall always congratulate 
 myself, dear sir, on having given the public, even at 
 my own expense, the opportunity of reading another 
 article by you. 
 
 I also beg you to be kind enough to publish this let- 
 ter in the Journal cles Dehats. The word " command " 
 which dropped from your pen has given rise to a num- 
 ber of comments which you would not hke me to suffer 
 from, and I wish to let you have the pleasure of mak- 
 ing reparation for the wrong you have involuntarily 
 done me by declaring that my " commands " on this 
 occasion consisted of simply sendhig my letter in the 
 very form in which it appeared in the Journal des 
 Dehats, with the exception of the fee for insertion. 
 
 V. H. 
 
TO BARON ECKSTEIN. 95 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To Baron Eckstein. 
 
 Sunday, 28th November, 1824. 
 
 I am always on the lookout, my dear sir, for the 
 articles which you sometimes deign to contribute to the 
 Drapeau hlanc ; and I can quite understand that they 
 are sufficient to maintain the paper on the high level 
 from which it ought never to descend. It is true that 
 to insure this all the contributors ought to possess your 
 great ability, and that this would be asking an impossi- 
 bihty. Nothing is rarer than the union of the three 
 qualities which so eminently distinguish you, — talent, 
 knowledge, and conviction. 
 
 The two articles you send me show with what ease 
 and ingenuity your mind takes in every subject and 
 adapts itself to every style. Your views on popular 
 poetry are lofty and profound. You take a rapid and 
 piercing glance at our sophistical and literary charlatans. 
 Like an upright judge, you distinguish errors from 
 tricks, you separate the wheat from the tares ; and that 
 is one of the things I admire in you. Your thoughts 
 are marked by German profundity and your pleasantry 
 by French grace. 
 
 I shall hasten to show your excellent articles to 
 Lamartine, who will be delighted with them ; and I look 
 forward impatiently to seeing your next work, which 
 you are good enough to promise to send me. 
 
 Would you be kind enough to bear in mind the 
 request I had the honor to make you for the Marchioness 
 de Montferrier and her daughter, Avho are in Eome, and 
 whose two works you admired at my house ? Will you 
 
96 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 let me know if the Minister for Foreign Affairs will al- 
 low these ladies to forward their correspondence in the 
 bag of our Ambassador at Rome, with whom they have 
 the honor of being acquainted ? I shall hope to receive 
 your reply for transmission to Mme. de Montferrier. 
 
 Farewell, dear sir ; my wife is much pleased at your 
 remembering her, and shares my high opinion of your 
 talent ; I hope you will always reckon me among 
 your best friends. Victor Hugo. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To Count Alfred de Vigxy, Pau. 
 
 2dth Decemher, 1824. 
 
 Before the year ends, dear Alfred, I will steal a 
 moment of it for you, and by hook or by crook will 
 write to you to-day. I do not know if my letter will 
 be to you what yours are to me, but I derive courage, 
 enthusiasm, and talent from them. When I receive 
 them and read them over again, I feel better and greater. 
 There is a kind of electricity in you, and my merit is to 
 be able at times to come up to your level and keep in 
 touch with you, especially as regards your play of mind 
 and your affection. 
 
 What a beautiful letter your last one was ! I could 
 see everything, the grand scenes around you, and your 
 own fine genius ; the lofty peaks of the Pyrenees must 
 have inspired you with some admirable poetry, and I 
 am longing to hear what you must have been writing 
 every day. 
 
 TFe, my friend, shall have nothing to offer you in 
 exchange when you return. Where you are, all is 
 inspiration ; here everything chills us. What is to be 
 
TO COUNT ALFRED DE \^GNY. 97 
 
 clone amid all these political and literary worries, with 
 these insolent mediocrities, these craven geniuses, the 
 election of Droz, and the defeat of Lamartine and 
 Guiraud? What can be done in Paris with the Min- 
 istry on one side and the Academy on the other? As 
 for me, when I do come out of my cell I can only feel 
 indignation and pity. 
 
 So I do not expose myself to it ; I stay at home, 
 where I am happy, where I rock my baby and have an 
 angel for a wife. All my happiness is there ; nothing 
 reaches me from outside but some marks of friendship, 
 which I value highly, and among which those from you 
 come first. 
 
 You know how much I love you, Alfred. Let us 
 join in greeting this new year, which makes our friend- 
 ship older, but not our hearts. Send me some of the 
 verses with which the Muse inspires you, and try to 
 return quickly to write them here, even if you should, 
 like me, run the risk of losing your inspiration. 
 
 But this is only a fanciful danger for you ; your 
 talent is proof against everything, even against grief 
 and ennui. As for me, all my ideas take flight and I 
 am beaten as soon as I see interests and passions enter 
 the lists. These little wounds are mortal to me. I am, 
 forgive the presumption of the comparison, like Achilles, 
 vulnerable in the heel. Victor. 
 
 XX. 
 
 To Count Alfred de Vigny, Rue Richepanse^ Paris. 
 
 Blois, 2.Sth April, 1825. 
 
 I cannot allow you to hear from any one but me, my 
 dear Alfred, of the unexpected marks of favor which 
 
 VOL. I. 7 
 
98 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 have followed me to my father's retreat. The King 
 bestows the Cross of the Legion of Honor on me, and 
 invites me to his Coronation. Rejoice at this news, you 
 who love me, for I shall pass through Paris on my way 
 to Reims, and I shall embrace you. I expect to make 
 the journey with our friend Nodier, to whom I have 
 just written. How we shall miss you ! 
 
 All honors, however, have their thorns. The jour- 
 ney obliges me to leave Adele for a whole fortnight, 
 Adele whom I love as you love your Lydia, and I feel 
 as if the first separation would cut me in two. You 
 will feel for me, my friend, for you love as I do. 
 
 Until I leave again, I am staying here, in the most 
 delightful town you can imagine. The streets and 
 houses are dark and ugly, but to gladden the eye they 
 are spread on both banks of the beautiful Loire ; on 
 one side is an amphitheatre of gardens and ruins, on 
 the other a verdant plain. At each step one comes 
 across a historical reminiscence. 
 
 My father's house is built of white quarried stones, 
 with green outside shutters like those J. J. Rousseau 
 was so fond of ; it lies between two charming gardens, 
 at the foot of a small hill between Gaston's tree and 
 the towers of Saint-Nicholas. One of these towers has 
 never been completed, and is falling into ruin. Time 
 is destroying it before man has finished it. 
 
 This is what I shall leave behind me for a fortnight, 
 and above all, my good old father and my beloved wife. 
 But I shall see you for a minute or two, and the sight 
 of a friend is so consolinof ! 
 
 Farewell, dear Alfred ; kindest regards to your dear 
 Lydia. Have you finished your formidable Enfer f It 
 
TO BARON ECKSTEIN. 99 
 
 is like a page of Dante, or a picture by Michael Angelo, 
 that triple genius. 
 
 My love to Emile, Soumet, Jules Guiraud, d'Hendi- 
 court, and all my friends, to whom I will write when I 
 have time. Victor. 
 
 I shall be here for three weeks longer. You will 
 write to me soon, will you not ? My address is Blois, 
 care of General Count Hugo. 
 
 My respectful compliments to your mother. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To Bakon Eckstein. 
 
 Blois, 29^^ Aipril, 1825. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have just this moment received a 
 letter from M. Alphonse Rabbe, with his Resume cle 
 Vhistoire cle Russie. This important work, which I 
 have glanced at rapidly, appears to me, judging from 
 what I see of it, to be as worthy of all your attention 
 as the author is of all your esteem. M. Rabbe, whose 
 political opinions differ from ours, is a man of fine 
 talents and fine character. In these two important 
 points he resembles you. Men of great merit, like you 
 and him, ought to understand and esteem each other, 
 to whatever side they belong. Although they take part 
 in the battles of their armies, generals do not engage 
 in a hand-to-hand fight ; they salute each other from 
 their opposite ranks. You and M. Rabbe are both 
 generals. 
 
 M. Rabbe, whose person and ability I admire, and 
 w^ho lias no need of this recommendation to you, does 
 you full justice already. You both belong to the small 
 
100 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 band of honorable men who are, and ought to be, dis- 
 tinguished from the rabble of parties. M. Rabbe does 
 not confound you with it. 
 
 You will, I am sure, do him the same justice. You 
 will doubtless have received his Resume and his letter 
 by the time this reaches you, and I shall be glad to 
 hear that your favorable verdict has anticipated what 
 (I repeat) I must not call my recommendation. 
 
 It is therefore not so much with this object that I 
 write as to recall myself to your kind recollection. You 
 will have read in the papers of the favors with which 
 His Majesty honors me.^ I thank you beforehand for 
 the pleasure which this news will have given you. You 
 see, I am as sure of your friendship as you are of mine. 
 No one has a greater esteem for you than your most 
 devoted Victor Hugo. 
 
 My address is. Care of General Count Hugo, at 
 Blois, 
 
 I should be delighted if you could find tune to 
 devote to M. Rabbe's work one of those excellent 
 articles in which you know so well how to combine 
 impartial criticism and appreciation. You know that 
 my opinion on resumes is the same as yours, but you 
 also know that I do not mclude M. Rabbe in the com- 
 mon herd of superficial and ignorant writers of this 
 stamp. He occupies quite a different position, and I 
 am sure you will judge him as I do. While occasion- 
 ally objecting to his doctrines, you will always admire 
 his talent. 
 
 1 The Cross of the Legion of Honor, and the invitation to the 
 Coronation. 
 
TO ADOLniE DE SAINT VALRY. 101 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To Adolphe de Saint Ya^ry^ , , 
 
 • 'EiLO'is; ICi May, 1825. 
 
 Yes, my friend, from this liistoxic and! jn.-iturtS'.pe. 
 town I shall often look toAvards Paris and Montfort, 
 and the castle at Blois will not make me forget Saint- 
 Laurent. I spent a delightfid time there in August, 
 1821, and your kind mother made me almost forget for 
 the space of a week the admirable mother I had just 
 lost. 
 
 Thank you for the news you give me. I am very 
 pleased that good Jules Lefevre owes the sale of his 
 Cloclier de Saint Marc to your efforts. He has real 
 ability, and all it wants is a success. 
 
 You have no lack of all this, my dear friend, and 
 you are wTong to despair about yourself ; your poem 
 must and shall be sold. The public is always quick to 
 recognize real talent. 
 
 I am told here that it is said in Paris that I have 
 abjured my literary heresies, like our great poet Sou- 
 met. Contradict this flatly wherever you may be ; you 
 will be doinfy me a service. 
 
 I went to see Chambord yesterday. You cannot 
 imagine how singularly beautiful it is. Every enchant- 
 ment, every kind of poetry, every folly, even, is repre- 
 sented in the admirable quaintness of this palace of 
 knights and fairies. I cut my name on the top of the ^ 
 higliest tower ; I took away a little stone and moss 
 Iroiii it, and a piece of the framework of the window 
 on which Francis I. wrote the two lines: — 
 
 *' Souvent feniino varic, 
 liiuii fol qui s'y fie ! " 
 
102 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I value these two relics highly. 
 
 Farewell, my friend ; you know that the King has 
 invited me to his Coronation. I shall be in Paris about 
 th^^20th, and sli^iE.iiee you there. 
 
 ;^ '.Th,e friencbhifD <?f "aiman Kke you is dehghtful and 
 'invaluable. Victor. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To Paul Foucher. 
 
 La MiLTifeRE, 9th or 10th of May, [1825]. 
 
 I begin this, my dear Paul, with the intention of 
 writing you one of the longest letters I have written 
 since I left. If by any chance it should not come up to 
 your expectation or mine, do not lay the blame on my in- 
 tentions, but on some unexpected circumstance or other, 
 which will have arisen to cross my pleasure and take up 
 my time. Besides, we shall soon meet in Paris, and I 
 w^ill tell you everything I have not been able to write. 
 
 At this moment I am in a green arbor adjoining 
 La Miltiere ; the ivy which grows up the sides casts 
 a checkered shade on my paper, of which I send you a 
 sketch, since you wish my letters to contain something 
 picturesque. Do not laugh at these strange lines dashed 
 on the other side of the page.^ Have some imagina- 
 tion. Suppose this drawing to have been done by the 
 sun and the shade, and you wdll see something charm- 
 ing. This is how the madmen called poets go on. 
 
 I left your kind letter at Blois, so that I cannot 
 answer it in detail. Besides, you asked me more ques- 
 tions than the six black-coated pedants of the Faculty 
 
 ^ Some large lines with a curious outline are drawn on the page of the 
 letter. 
 
TO M. YILLARS. 103 
 
 will put to you when you come up for your exami- 
 nation at the University of Paris. 
 
 You wrote about the hidte des Cajmcins and Diana, 
 and, to tease you, I have a great mind to talk of no- 
 thinir hut Chambord and Chabara. 
 
 Fancy, my dear Paul, ever since I have seen 
 Chambord I go about asking every one, Have you seen 
 Chambord ? just as La Fontaine, who said to everybody 
 he met. Have you read Baruch ? 
 
 Apropos of La Fontaine, let us talk of Colonel 
 Feraudy. He is still fond of you, although you took it 
 into your head to pronounce one of his lines wrong, a 
 point on which he is sensitive. He still writes fables ; 
 he has even written one in honor of me, in which he 
 calls me a beast, and which ends with a pun. This is 
 a compliment ! 
 
 Farewell, my dear Paul; best love to your good 
 father and mother from Adele and me. Papa, his 
 wife, and Didine send them and you a thousand kind 
 messages. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To M. ViLLARs, Member of the French Academy. 
 
 Sunday, 14tth November, [1825]. 
 
 For the last two years, having been almost always 
 absent from Paris, I have had no opportunity of culti- 
 vating M. Villars' agreeable and useful acquaintance as 
 much as I should have wished. I am delighted that a 
 fortuitous circumstance brinG^s us toi]:ether ao-ain, and 
 enables me to renew this accpiaintance Avliich I value so 
 liiglily. ]\L do Lamartine, a friend of mine, is a candi- 
 date for tlie vacant seat in the French Academy ; and 
 Ixjforc callin": on M. Villars, he beirired me to let the 
 
104 THE LETTERS OF YICTOR HUGO. 
 
 latter know beforehand. I told him that the kindly 
 feeling of which M. de Villars had given me so many 
 proofs would not in itself suffice to guide his choice, but 
 I had no doubt that M. de Lamartine's great merit and 
 admirable talents would be very strong recommendations 
 to M. Villars. M. de Chateaubriand and the Bishop of 
 Hermopohs are deeply interested in M. de Lamartine's 
 election. M. Villars will doubtless be glad to add his 
 vote to theirs, to facilitate the admittance of this talented 
 man into the Academy in which M. Villars huuself 
 occupies such a distinguished position. 
 
 I shall be happy and pleased at having drawn M. 
 Villars' attention to M. de Lamartine ; and if he is 
 elected, it will add a fresh obligation to all those I owe 
 to my old and worthy friend M. Villars. I shall have 
 the honor to revert to the subject. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 To Lamartixe. 
 
 Paris, 2oth May, 182G. 
 
 I wrote to you some time ago, my dear Lamartine, 
 and sent you a new novel I have just published called 
 Bug-JargaL But you had doubtless left Florence when 
 my long letter arrived there. I reminded you, besides, 
 of the promise you made us at Saint-Point, on that 
 happy day we spent with you there, to write some poetry 
 for our Album de quatre voyageurs, as a compensation 
 for your enforced absence. Everything is now ready for 
 the publication of the album, Nodier's prose, and my 
 poetry ; all that is lacking is its finest ornament, and it 
 is to you that we look for this. 
 
 Our mutual pubHsher, Urbain Canel, has to go to 
 
TO HENRI DE LATOUCHE. 105 
 
 Dijon, and promises to give you this letter. Pray write 
 me a few lines to tell me how you are, and how are your 
 wife and your charming daughter ; whether you are 
 soon coming to Paris, and if you will bring us some fine 
 meditation on the mountains. But do not trouble 
 yourself about this last point. However valuable your 
 cooperation is to us, we do not want to be importunate 
 or exacting. 
 
 I also sent in the parcel I forwarded to Florence 
 the ode I addressed to you in reply to your charming 
 letter, and which is the first in the new collection I 
 am about to publish. It is a sort of dedication of the 
 whole collection. Pray come and fetch it in Paris. It 
 will appear in a month. 
 
 Farewell, my illustrious friend; write me soon; and 
 remember that my admiration for your talent is equaled 
 by my tender affection for yourself. Victoe. 
 
 My wife begs to be kindly remembered to Mme. de 
 Lamartine. Kindest regards from myself. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 To Hexri de Latouche. 
 
 M August, 1826. 
 
 I have just received a letter from you, my dear Mon- 
 sieur Latouche, which much surprises me. I answer 
 it only because you used to be my dear Latouche, and 
 because I hope this reply may produce an apology from 
 you which I cannot help wishing for. 
 
 I know no one on the staff of the Drapeau hlanc. 
 The only Z. I know is the person who abuses me rather 
 pleasantly in the Journal ties Dcbats, 
 
106 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 This is the explanation which I am prepared to con- 
 cede to our old friend. I regret, for your sake, that 
 you should have deemed it necessary. 
 
 Victor M. Hugo. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To Monsieur V. P., one of the editors of the Feiiilleton des 
 Afflches, at the office of that ^puhlicatiorif care of M. JPavie, 
 Royal Printer, Angers. 
 
 ISth December, 1826. 
 
 It is doubtless to you, dear sir, that I am indebted 
 for the number of the Feuilleton d^ Angers of the 2d 
 December, in which the collection of odes and ballads 
 that I have just published is reviewed. At any rate, 
 it is to you, dear sir, that I owe this favorable article, 
 and it is my duty, as well as a pleasure, to thank you 
 for it. 
 
 I do not thank you because you have praised me. 
 I should care very little, allow me to tell you, for mere 
 praise. What I am grateful for in your article is the 
 ability with which it is written ; what pleases, charms, 
 and delights me is the complete revelation in these few 
 lines of a noble heart, a vigorous intelligence, and an 
 elevated mind. 
 
 I feel, dear sir, that you belong to the circle of 
 friends whom my poor books make for me in the world, 
 and who are unknown to me, but whom I am so glad to 
 meet when any chance opportunity offers of shaking 
 them by the hand. Until I have this good fortune with 
 you, accept this letter as a token of my esteem and 
 reofard. 
 
 I regret that I can only address you by your initials, 
 V. P. ; they are at the foot of an article which our fore- 
 
TO VICTOR PAVIE. 107 
 
 most literary men would be aLle to sign ; but wliatever 
 it may be, the name which they conceal will not long 
 remain unknown. 
 
 Your friend, Victor Hugo. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 Paris, M January, 1827. 
 
 Your letter, dear sir, has quite fulfilled all the prom- 
 ise of your article ; in it I found the heart of a friend 
 and the soul of a poet, the two things I love best m the 
 world. 
 
 You are right, it is a great pleasure to be under- 
 stood, and to be understood by men of a superior mind. 
 Of all the tokens of commendation which can encour- 
 age and reassure a poet whose daring flights of fancy 
 bear him to a new world, the free and unfettered ap- 
 proval of a few lofty minds is the most valuable. 
 
 Young as you are, you belong to a distinct category, 
 the only privileged one that nature creates ; you have 
 the mens divinior which raises a man above his fellows. 
 And although I have seen but very little from your pen, 
 I have no difficulty in foretelling your future. 
 
 You are really too kind to take an interest in my 
 small works ; pray give me an opportunity of interest- 
 ing myself in one of yours. Do go on working. What 
 are you doing ? In what direction are you employing 
 the intellectual power bestowed on you by Providence ? 
 I presume that you are not letting it lie fallow. Tell 
 me all about this, and forgive me for writing to you thus. 
 There should be freedom and confidence between us; we 
 are both about the same age, and of the same character. 
 
108 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 And by the way, wliy should you not write the book, 
 for instance, of which you give me such a striking 
 sketch ? I who, for good or ill, am attracted towards 
 application rather than theory, shall probably never 
 have the time to write it, and besides, you would do it 
 far better than I should. 
 
 In conclusion, dear sir, follow your own bent freely. 
 Obey your inspiration. You have all that is required 
 for success, — the intelligence which creates and the 
 imagination which fertiHzes the creation. 
 
 The tree is in you : let it grow. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 Just as I am closing this letter I receive the Angers 
 Feuilleton, in which I read the letter I sent to the 
 Academy of Provence. Pray accept my best thanks, 
 and transmit them to your father. It would be very 
 kind of you to send me the Angers Feuilleton when- 
 ever you write anything in it. 
 
 My address is not 30 but 90 [Rue de Vaugirard]. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 To Louis Pavie.^ 
 
 Paris, 15/^ January, 1827. 
 
 It is I, dear sir, who owe you a thousand thanks. 
 
 You are kind enouo'h to make me a subscriber to a 
 provincial feuilleton which is superior to many Paris 
 feuilletons. You do more ; you send me your own 
 works, so matured, so full of wisdom and esjjrit, and 
 your son's verses, which sparkle with youth and poetic 
 f eeHng. These latter are your productions too, dear sir, 
 
 1 Father of M. Victor Pavie. 
 
TO LOUIS PA VIE. 109 
 
 and I believe I shall not offend your natural pride as 
 an author and a father by asserting that, remarkable as 
 are your writings, your son is still the greatest of your 
 works. This, by the way, is what was said of Homer 
 apropos of Virgil. 
 
 Tell your young eaglet, dear sir, your Victor, that 
 there is another Victor who would envy him — if envy 
 could coexist mth affection — his fine poem on David, 
 le Juif, let Mer, and le Lac, an ingenious and inspired 
 composition, and above all, his charming elegy of V En- 
 fant. Tell him especially not to hide his head under 
 his ^ing ; his wings are made to soar aloft, and his eyes 
 to gaze at the sun. 
 
 If my five-and-twenty years (for I am near that) 
 gave me some right of advising his eighteen, I should 
 advise him to be more strict about the richness of the 
 rhyme, the only charm of our poetry, and, above all, to 
 strive to confine his thoughts as much as possible within 
 the limits of the regular strophe. He can change the 
 rhythm as often as he likes in the same ode, but there 
 should always be an internal regularity in the arrange- 
 ment of the metre. This is the way, in my view, to 
 express an idea more forcibly, to give a more ample har- 
 mony to the style and more value to the whole of the 
 composition. I do not, however, lay down this as a 
 rule or law, but merely give it for what it is worth, 
 as the result of reflections on the genius of our lyric 
 poetry. In his case, thought only needs to develop 
 freely. I give some advice to the artist, but I submit it 
 for the approval of the poet. 
 
 Farewell, dear sir 3 accept once more the expression of 
 
110 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the gratitude and high esteem with which I have the 
 honor to remain, your very obedient, humble servant, 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 Paris, 1th February, 1827. 
 
 Pray do not think, dear sir, that your kind letters 
 can ever be irksome to me. Quite the contrary, they 
 refresh me. I love these outpourings of a youthful 
 heart, these confidences of a lofty and simple mind. 
 The seven years' difference in our ages makes me seem 
 almost old to you, and if your friendship occasionally 
 wishes to show some deference to mine, I will accept it 
 as a tribute to my age, and not to my ability. 
 
 I have not told you sufficiently, I have not said as 
 much as I should have liked, how greatly your verses 
 have impressed me. They possess the characteristic of 
 the best specimens of our renovated poetry, the union 
 of grace and vigor, of youth and maturity, which is the 
 stamp of all our great poets. You are one of those 
 young men of the nineteenth century whose gravity and 
 candor astonish the artificial and frivolous old men of the 
 eighteenth. You ask me for guidance ? This is asking 
 what is beyond my powers. Give the rein to your 
 fancy ; let your own nature finish your education ; it 
 has already begun so well. 
 
 There is nothing, dear sir, you cannot aspire to. Your 
 early poems are of wonderful promise. Even the transi- 
 tion stage you are passing through, and which you 
 describe so well, denotes the crisis of a youthful ima- 
 gination in process of vigorous development. 
 
 You have been kind enough to mention my name in 
 
TO VICTOR PA VIE. Ill 
 
 an article in the last number of the Feuilleton which 
 bears the stamp of your original mind. I thank you ; 
 you wish that my affection for you should be complete : 
 it has begun with gratitude. 
 
 Farewell, dear sir. I have only one piece of advice 
 to give you — write fine poetry and good prose; and one 
 request to make you — love me. V. H. 
 
 Pray remember me to your father, and do not frank 
 your letters to me ; none of my friends do it. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 Paris, 11th March, 1827. 
 
 Your derniere feuille is charming. You have added 
 to it some lines and a name which, like it, will die ; but 
 I was much touched with this last mark of affection 
 bestowed on me by your fine talent. 
 
 And you have written me a charming letter, which 
 would have made up to me for the Globe and the Etoile, 
 if I had needed it. They are people who attack me, 
 and who doubtless have their reasons for so doing. I 
 suppose they like it, so why should I be unhappy about 
 it? On the contrary, I rejoice, as it brings me letters 
 Hke yours. 
 
 I have told my publisher to send you that Ode a la 
 Colonne, the whole of which is not equal to the single 
 line — 
 
 C'dtait line feuille d'antomne. 
 
 Farewell ! You promise to write to me often. Pray 
 do not fail to do so. Your friendship, your poetry, 
 makes me feel young again. Your letters are already 
 more than a pleasure to me. Victor Hugo. 
 
112 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To Victor Payee. 
 
 20th May, 1827. 
 
 You were born under a lucky star, dear sir. You 
 have a talent which is a credit to your family, and a 
 family which appreciates your talent. I have seen your 
 worthy father, and I cannot tell you how I liked him 
 from the first. There is something so kind, so cordial, 
 so friendly about him, that I could not desire a better 
 protector for the early expansion of a valuable gift like 
 yours. You should both be grateful to God : He could 
 not have given a better son to a better father. 
 
 Your father left us soon — too soon ; be sure you tell 
 him so ; but he was good enough to temper our regret 
 at parting from him with the hope of seeing you shortly. 
 Your kind letter changes this hope into a certainty ; and 
 the best proof you could give me of your friendship is 
 to realize it quickly. You would write well everywhere, 
 but there is more food for the mind in Paris : the muse- 
 ums, the picture galleries, the libraries, open out new 
 worlds of thought; in a word, all that can be acquired 
 is here, and you already have all that nature can give. 
 
 I was also delighted to make the acquaintance of M. 
 David (of Angers). lie has a great deal of talent, and 
 plenty of ideas. He showed me his studio, which is 
 full of fine thino^s. 
 
 I need not now tell you to write to me. You know 
 that I love you. Tell your good father that the best 
 way to double the pleasure which your visit in Paris 
 will give me is to come with you. 
 
 Your friend, V. H. 
 
TO LOUIS PAVIE. 113 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 To Louis Pavie. 
 
 2(jth Ma?j, 1827. 
 
 After tlie fine lines which your Victor has just sent 
 me, I should be ashamed to convey my admiration and 
 thanks to him direct in paltry prose ; it would be giving 
 him lead in exchange for his bronze and gold. Allow 
 me, therefore, to pour my feelings of brotherly love and 
 friendship into your paternal heart. Tell your Victor 
 he must allow me to thank him through you. You will 
 transmit to him this inadequate expression of my deep 
 emotion, and it will be all the more welcome in coming 
 from you. 
 
 Yes, dear sir, they are indeed fine lines, full of fire, 
 of brightness, and of grandeur. We ought both to be 
 proud of them, you as the father and I as the hrother 
 of the poet. I am very flattered at this youthful, im- 
 passioned ode being dedicated to me, but I should have 
 been still more gratified if my name had been at the 
 foot of it instead of at the head. 
 
 Perhaps, dear sir, I ought not to have bestowed 
 such praise on these verses in which I am praised too 
 much. But the dedication of this ode to me is due to 
 an infirmity of friendship. It is not addressed to Vic- 
 tor Hugo, but to a poet of genius, capable of inspiring 
 such a lofty strain, whereas I am only capable of admir- 
 iuG^ it. 
 
 Farewell, dear sir ; farewell, fortunate father ! Em- 
 brace your son for me, till the time comes when I can 
 do so for you. 
 
 Very sincerely yours, ViCTOii Hugo. 
 
 VOL. I. 8 
 
114 THE LETTEES OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 Paris, 2M Septemher, 1827. 
 
 It is true, dear sir, that my motlier-in-law's more and 
 more hopeless state of health causes us the greatest 
 anxiety, but this could not prevent me from appreci- 
 atino; the two kind letters which I have received from 
 Angers since you left. 
 
 Whatever jjosition I may be in, I can never hear 
 from your kind father or you without emotion and grati- 
 tude. So far from the reverse being the case, grief 
 inclines one to friendship. 
 
 You have published two capital articles in the Angers 
 FeuiUeton, You look on art with the eye of a poet ; 
 you criticize as an artist. Your talent has something 
 ahke precocious and mature about it. 
 
 Delacroix is particularly pleased with, and proud of, 
 the fine bit which refers to him. He has beg^j^ed me to 
 thank you. Go on with these articles ; make our Paris 
 papers blush for their inferiority to a provincial paper. 
 
 Paul is very much touched by your friendly and 
 brotherly messages to him ; he will write to you one of 
 these days. His drama will be acted six weeks hence. 
 Poor Paul will feel the want of you to congratulate or 
 console him. 
 
 You will receive Cromwell in a fortnight. I have 
 only got to write the preface and a few notes. I shall 
 make them as short as possible ; the shorter the better. 
 
 Farewell I but come back to us soon. Tell your 
 good father that we must have you when the Salon is 
 open. I also want to have a talk with you about the 
 
TO VICTOR PA VIE. 115 
 
 Gothic architecture at Angers. I am dehghted to see 
 that you are bitten with architecture. It is such a grand 
 subject ! 
 
 Farewell, once more ! Vale et one ama. 
 
 Your elder brother, Victor. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 5th January, 1828. 
 
 Although you praise me in it, and praise me too 
 much, my dear young friend, I shall nevertheless pub- 
 lish on the housetops that your article is an admirable 
 one, and that it is a pity (I do not say for myself, but 
 for literature in general) that so profound and lofty 
 a piece of criticism should be published in a remote 
 corner of the provinces, while Messrs. R. and Co. dis- 
 play their incompetence in four columns of a paper 
 which prints fifteen thousand copies and has five hun- 
 dred thousand readers in both continents. But what 
 can we do ? 
 
 Every one wdio has read your article on CromiveU is 
 delighted with it : David, Sainte-Beuve, Paul [Foucher] 
 rave about it. I am going to make Emile Deschamps 
 and Charles Nodier read it. Sainte-Beuve has also 
 written two very remarkable articles on this paltry 
 book ; the Globe refused them, for which the j^^osdistcs 
 bear me a grudge. You see that intolerance is to be 
 found even among philosophers, and a censorship even 
 amono^ democrats. But a^rain, what can w^e do? 
 
 I send you many good wishes for your happiness, 
 for there is notliing to wish you on the score of abihty. 
 Continue to be the pride of your good father, and as 
 
116 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 for me, I have a New Year's wish, namely, that you 
 may come and pay me a visit. Pray consult M. Pavie 
 about this. 
 
 Ora pro nobis, V. Hugo. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 23c? January, 1828. 
 
 Our letters have crossed, my poet. Just as I was 
 reading your pretty message you were reading my 
 illegible scrawl. But never mind ! your friendship 
 understands me, does it not, even when yom- eyes can- 
 not make out my writing ; and when I write, if my pen 
 is bad, my heart is not so. 
 
 Do you know, I am annoyed with myself for having 
 written you a whole page without having told you that 
 your second article is, if possible, finer than the first. 
 What a maturity you have reached at the age of 
 twenty ! What hfe and spirit ! what splendor of style 
 and ideas ! Sainte-Beuve was in ecstasies yesterday over 
 your article ; he knows it by heart, word for word, and 
 repeats it to everybody. 
 
 No article has been written in France on Cromwell 
 so remarkable as yours ; only the great articles in the 
 English Reviews are fit to be compared with yours. 
 
 Forgive this scribble. You know that our friend 
 David is quite well now, that he goes out, that he walks 
 in the sun, and will soon begin work again. I go to 
 him every day, to see him and to talk about Victor of 
 Angers with him. My T\ife and I send our kindest 
 remembrances to your good father. M}^ eldest brother 
 is just married ; when you marry, I shall have another 
 sister-in-law. Victor. 
 
TO VICTOR TAVIE. 117 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To THE SaJME. 
 
 Paris, 29^/i February, [1828]. 
 
 I have not yet thanked you, my young poet, for your 
 kind letter, nor for that from your good father. I 
 know that you are both as full of indulgence for me 
 as for my works, and my deep inconsolable grief is an 
 ample excuse with friends like you. I have lost the 
 man wdio loved me best in the world, a good and noble 
 man, who was rather proud of me and very fond of me, 
 a father whose interest in me never flagged. This is a 
 support taken away from me very early. Oh, my dear 
 Victor, pray to God to spare your father to you for 
 many a year to come. 
 
 You have heard of the mischance which befell Paul 
 [Foucher], — a very trifling misfortune compared with 
 a very great one. I had to stand by him as well as 
 I could on this occasion. Besides, it was I who had 
 brou<Tht him bad luck. The herd of intrio^uers who 
 hissed Amy Rohscu^t thought they were indirectly 
 hissing Cromwell. It was a wretched little cabal of the 
 classicists which is hardly worth mentioning. 
 
 Farewell, my poet. How is it that you still ask to be 
 admitted to my friendship ? Are you not already one 
 of my old friends ? The loss of my father has left an 
 immense blank in my life, but you are one of those who 
 would fill it if it could be filled. 
 
 Your Ijrotlier^ Victor. 
 
118 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 Paris, Yllh July, 1828. 
 
 You have every reason to be vexed \\dtli me, my 
 poet, for during all the time that has elapsed smce you 
 left us, what reply have I given to your charming letter, 
 and the other printed communications which brought 
 me, one after the other, your fine article on the Honde 
 du Sahhat, the remarkable strophes on Smarra, and 
 finally the excellent paper on the Faust of two great 
 poets, Goethe and Delacroix ? 
 
 But do not think me as guilty as I appear, my dear 
 friend. I have proofs to correct, visits to receive, hea\y 
 reading to get through, business to attend to ; this 
 month I have written three letters to solicitors and 
 notaries. Imao^ine the fatio^ue of all this ! And then 
 there is the real reason, which is, that I am lazy. 
 
 You are indulgent, I know, and will take me as 
 I am, and bear in mind that although I receive let- 
 ters from Lamartine, the Abbe de Lamennais, and Cha- 
 teaubriand, yours are among those which I answer 
 soonest. 
 
 Are you still taking an interest in the little Gothic 
 house at Angers as you promised us ? Please let me 
 have some details about this in your next letter, if, 
 indeed, you still wish to have anything to say to me, 
 who am still interested in you. 
 
 Sainte-Beuve has just published his book, which is 
 first-rate. Boulanger is going to send you his Saint- 
 BartMlemy, which is magnificent. You see, Paris does 
 not forget Angers. 
 
TO DAVID D'ANGERS. 119 
 
 Farewell ! farewell. Paul complains of the rarity of 
 your letters. He is right, they are rarities in more 
 senses than one. Farewell. A thousand kind messajres 
 from all of us to all of you. Victor. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 To David d'Axgers. 
 
 Paris, Saturday Morning, . . . [1828]. 
 
 Just imagine, dear friend, what bad luck ! My wife, 
 who has kept well all through the year, takes it into her 
 head to be indisposed to-day, and in the one and only 
 way, perhaps, that can alter her profile. She has a 
 wretched toothache, and besides this her lips are sore 
 and swollen. So that to-day you would find only a suf- 
 fering and disfigured model. I was not much inclined to 
 let you know of this mishap, as I was so anxious to see 
 you to-day, and foresaw that this letter might perhaps 
 deprive us of this pleasure, but my wife reminds me 
 how valuable your time is, and so my selfishness gives 
 way. But do come if you can, and do not forget that 
 no one admires you more than I do, because no one 
 loves you better. Victor Hugo. 
 
 P. S. — My wife hopes that her ailment will have 
 disappeared by Monday. 
 
 XL. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 VJth October, 1828. 
 
 I have a letter from M. de Belleyme, my dear friend, 
 giving us admission to Bicetre on the 22d, the day on 
 which the irons are fastened on. If you can spare a 
 
120 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 moment, come and see me soon, to settle what we are 
 
 to do. 
 
 Your friend, Victor Hugo. 
 
 I open my letter to tliank you a thousand times, as 
 many times as it is admirable.^ 
 
 XLI. 
 
 To David d'Angers. 
 
 1st November, 1828. 
 
 I am very vexed, my dear friend ; some important 
 business compelled Lamartine to leave unexpectedly yes- 
 terday. It is true that he will return in January and 
 spend three months in Paris, and that he hopes you will 
 still be of the same mind with regard to him ; but it is 
 hard for me to have to wait two months for one of your 
 masterpieces. I won't say good-by. I still hope to be 
 your satellite this evening, if I am not too hoarse. 
 Now I think of it, at what time shall I expect you ? 
 
 Yours with all my heart, Victor Hugo. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 To Barox Taylor. 
 
 Saturday the IZth, . . . [1828]. 
 
 My dear Taylor, — A tragedy has just been writ- 
 ten in my family, and I do not think you need to be 
 told that I am not the author of it. I never flew at 
 such high game ! My young brother-in-law Paul (who, 
 by the way, is passionately attached to you) is the cul- 
 prit. 
 
 Now, I will not bestow praise on this tragedy here, 
 
 ^ The medallion of the poet. 
 
TO BARON TAYLOR. 121 
 
 because it would be altogether suspicious, coming from 
 me ; but I do not think I am going too far when I say 
 that it is quite as good as many of those which from 
 time immemorial have been received, put on the stage, 
 acted, and applauded at the Frangais. 
 
 Would you therefore be so kind as to tell us what 
 would be the best course to pursue to bring our tragedy 
 before the Committee of the Frangais ? The young poet 
 would like, if possible, to be relieved from the formality 
 of a previous examination ; but we must first be sure 
 that this exemption would not in any way break through 
 the estabhshed rule. 
 
 If your many and important engagements would 
 allow you by any chance to look over the piece before 
 it is sent in, I need not tell you that Paul would receive 
 any suggestion from you with pleasure and gratitude. 
 The subject of the work is Cosmo de! Medici, 
 
 I must add, to give every one his due, that there is 
 not a single idea, line, or word of mine in the piece. 
 Farewell, my dear, noble friend ; forgive my importu- 
 nity ; I should have troubled you with a visit, if the 
 road from my arctic pole in the Rue Yaugirard to your 
 antarctic pole in the Rue Bondi had been more practi- 
 cable. 
 
 Always most sincerely yours, Victor Hugo. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 M April, 1829. 
 
 You are coming back to us, then, my dear young 
 poet ! This is delightful news in the midst of my fam- 
 ily troubles. I like your letters, but I should like to 
 have you better still. 
 
122 THE LETTEES OF YICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I have seen the poor portrait which you mention ; 
 it seems to me that I am flattered and yet not done 
 justice to : it is the popular idea of me, a good-looking 
 dog. Still, you have had your money's worth. I am 
 always trying to get yours out of David, and I scold 
 him for not having published it yet for your friends. 
 Do you know that the last Feuilleton contains a ballad 
 which is a masterpiece? Congratulate M. V. P. on it 
 from me. It is picturesque, novel, and in excellent 
 style. It is like one of those wonderful old paintings 
 by Albert Diirer or Kembrandt. 
 
 Talking of great painters, do not believe, with a few 
 stupid newspapers, in the front rank of which I unhesi- 
 tatingly place the Glohe^ that Delacroix is not up to 
 the mark. His Sardanajyaliis is a splendid thing, and 
 so grand that it cannot be grasped by small minds. 
 This fine work, however, like many other grand and 
 powerful works, has not been to the taste of the bour- 
 geois of Paris ; you know the proverb : S'lffiets des sots 
 sont fanfares de gloire, I only regret one thing, and 
 that is, that he did not represent the funeral-pile as on 
 fire : this fine scene would have been still finer had the 
 foreground been a mass of flames. As for M. Gerard's 
 Saint e Titer ese, it is better than his Canning, no doubt, 
 but remember that M. de Ch[ateaubriand] is not much 
 of a judge of painting : his praise is simply his mode 
 of expressing his thanks. 
 
 You ask me to tell you about myself. Alas ! just at 
 present I should have to tell you of nothing but law- 
 yers, valuers, official seals, inventories, etc. How sad it 
 is that our sorrows so quickly make way for business. 
 I am correcting the proofs of a fourth edition of the 
 
TO THE MINISTER OF THE INTERIOR. 123 
 
 Odes et Ballades. Farewell, but come quickly with 
 your good father. 
 
 Vale et me ama, V. H. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 To His Excellency the Minister of the Interior, at his res- 
 idence, Rue de Grenelle, 
 
 2d August, 1829. 
 
 My Lord, — M. Brifaut has communicated to me, as 
 you had commissioned him to do, what Your Excellency 
 told him yesterday morning about my play.^ There is 
 something so unexpected about the view which he found 
 you held with regard to me, that I must ask Your 
 Excellency's permission not to consider it as definitive. 
 I venture to believe that other counsels will prevail in 
 your mind, which is so enlightened and generally so 
 well disposed towards literature, and that you wdll not 
 come to a decision so contrary to my interests, and, allow 
 me to add, my Lord, to your own. 
 
 I remain, my Lord, with great respect. Your Excel- 
 lency's most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 To M. DE LA BouRDONNAYE, Minister of the Interior. 
 
 Paris, l^th August, ISliO., 
 
 My Lord, — I am much touched by the King's 
 kindness. 
 
 < My devotion to the King is in truth deep and sincere. 
 My family, ennobled in the year 1531, has long served 
 the State. My father and my two uncles served it for 
 forty years with their swords. I myself have perhaps 
 
 ' Marion de Lonne, wliicli the censorship wished to suppress. 
 
124 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 been fortunate enougli to render some humble service 
 to the King and to the cause of royalty. I have sold 
 five editions of a book in which the name of Bourbon 
 occurs on every page. 
 
 My Lord, this devotion is purely disinterested. Six 
 years ago the late King deigned to grant me, by royal 
 decree, and simultaneously with my noble friend M. de 
 Lamartine, a pension of two thousand francs on the lit- 
 erary fund of the Minister of the Interior. I received 
 this pension all the more gratefully because I had never 
 ashed for it. 
 
 My Lord, this pension, modest as it is, is enough for 
 me. It is true that nearly all my father's fortune has 
 been sequestrated by the King of Spain, in contraven- 
 tion of the Treaty of 1814. It is true that I have a 
 wife and three children. It is true that I am support- 
 ing widows and relations who bear my name. But I 
 have been fortunate enough to make an honorable and 
 independent hving by my pen. This is why the pension 
 of tv/o thousand francs, which I value chiefly as a token 
 of royal favor, is enough for me. 
 
 It is, however, also true that, as I live by my pen, I 
 had been obliged to reckon on the legitimate profits of 
 my drama, Marion de Lorme. But as the performance 
 of this play — a conscientious, honest work of art — 
 appears to be dangerous, I bow to the decision, hoping 
 that the Sovereign's august will may change in this 
 respect. I had asked to have my play acted ; I do not 
 ask for anything else. 
 
 Be so good, therefore, my Lord, as to tell the King 
 that I entreat him to allow me to remain in the position 
 in which I was when his fresh favors reached me. 
 
TO CHARLES NODIER. 125 
 
 Whatever happens — I need not repeat the assurance 
 to you — nothing' hostile can ever come from me. The 
 King need expect nothing but proofs of fidehty, loyalty, 
 and devotion from Victor Hugo. 
 
 I should be glad, my Lord, if your Excellency will be 
 kind enough to submit this letter to the King, with the 
 expression of my warm gratitude and deep respect. 
 
 I have the honor to be, my Lord, your Excellency's 
 most obedient, humble servant, Victor Hugo. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 To Baron Taylor. 
 
 Thursday, 23d August, 1829. 
 
 I have seen M. de la Bourdonnaye this morning. 
 The play will decidedly be stopped, interdicted, pro- 
 hibited. Come and see me, my friend, and I will tell 
 you all about it. Victor. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 --"' To Charles Nodier. 
 
 2d November, 1829. 
 
 And you, too, Charles ! 
 
 I w^ould give a good deal not to have read yesterday's 
 Quotidlenne. One of the most painful shocks in life is 
 the uprooting of an old and warm friendship. 
 
 I had long ago ceased to look for your approval of 
 my writings. I did not complain of this. Why should 
 you have gone on compromising yourself by an open 
 friendship wdtli a man who brings his friends nothing 
 but hatred, calumny, and persecution ? I saw that you 
 were withdrawing from the fray, and as I loved you for 
 yourself I thought you were right. 
 
 By degrees I saw your silence and indifference with 
 
126 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 regard to me transformed into praise, enthusiasm, and 
 acclamation for my enemies, even for the most violent, 
 the most bitter, the most odious of them. This, again, 
 was perfectly natural, for after all it is only a personal 
 matter, and of course my enemies may possess wit, 
 ability, and genius. I repeat, this was quite natural, 
 and I do not complain of it for a single moment. I did 
 not love you any the less for it, and (you would be 
 wrong not to believe me, Charles) this was my real 
 feeling. 
 
 I had not foreseen (hence my perfect tranquillity of 
 mind) that the natural, perhaps inevitable, transition 
 for you would be a campaign against me. So you have 
 joined in it too. Yesterday's attack is underhand, ob- 
 scure, ambiguous, I allow, but it none the less stung 
 me deeply, it none the less roused, like an electric shock, 
 more than twenty of my friends, who came to condole 
 with me over it. 
 
 And what moment have you selected for it ! the very 
 moment when my enemies are rallying on all sides in 
 greater numbers and with greater bitterness than ever, 
 when they are unremittingly wearing a network of 
 hatred and calumny around me, when I stand alone 
 between two equally deadly foes, — the Government 
 which detests and persecutes me, and the determined 
 cabal which controls nearly every newspaper. Ah, 
 Charles ! at a moment like this I at least had a right to 
 reckon on your silence. 
 
 Or is the reason that I have offended you in any 
 way ? If so, why did you not tell me of it ? 
 
 It is not that I object to your criticism, which is 
 accurate, closely reasoned, and true. It is a very far 
 
TO BARON TAYLOR. 127 
 
 cry from the Orientales to Lord Byron. But surely, 
 Charles, there were plenty of enemies to tell me this 
 just now. 
 
 You will doubtless be surprised ; you will think I am 
 very touchy. But I cannot help it, — a friendship 
 like mine for you is frank, cordial, deep, and cannot 
 be broken without a cry of j)ain. Besides, this is 
 my nature. I do not mind the dagger-thrusts of my 
 enemies ; I feel the pin-pricks of a friend. 
 
 After all, I am not vexed with you ; tear up this 
 letter, and think no more about it. What you wished 
 to break off is broken off. I shall always feel it, but no 
 matter. If any one mentions the subject again to me, 
 I shall defend you, as I defended you yesterday. But 
 believe me, it is very sad for me, and for you as well, 
 Charles, for never in your life have you lost a friend 
 more profoundly, more tenderly, and more absolutely 
 devoted to you. Victor Hugo. 
 
 XL VIII. 
 
 To Barox Taylor. 
 
 Zd November, 1829. 
 
 In reply to my application, M. de la Bourdonnaye 
 writes to me, my dear Taylor, that TIernani was re- 
 turned to the theatre on the *dlst of October, Is this 
 really true ? And how is it I know nothing about it ? 
 It would be very kind of you to send me a line saying 
 yes or no, or better still, to come and see me for a fcAv 
 minutes some mornino-. 
 
 Your friend, Y. II. 
 
128 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 To M. DE Saixt-Valry. 
 
 Paris, ISth December, 1829. 
 
 How kind it is of you, my friend, to still think a 
 little about me, who seem to have forgotten all of you ! 
 You know well that I only appear to have done so. In 
 your heart of hearts you feel that it is impossible for 
 mine to change. And then, you make allowances for 
 me, and it is in this that you are a real friend. You 
 know the crushing burdens I am staggering under. 
 The Comedie Frangaise, Ilernani, rehearsals, green- 
 room intrigues, the rivalries of actors and actresses, 
 underhand dealings of the newspapers and of the 
 police ; and besides all this, my own private affairs still 
 in great confusion, my father's estate not wound up, our 
 Spanish property grabbed by Ferdinand VII., our St. 
 Domingo indemnity retained by Boyer, our gravel-pits 
 in Sologne for sale for the last two years, the houses 
 at Blois which our stepmother is going to law with us 
 about, — consequently little or nothing to be got out 
 of the debris of a large fortune except lawsuits and 
 worries. This is what my life consists of ; how can one 
 be everything to one's friends when one has not a 
 moment to one's self ? At any rate, if I do not write 
 to them very often I am as fond of them as ever, and 
 you are one of the dearest, oldest, and most valued 
 among them. Well, you are safe in port ; remain there ! 
 / am battlino; with the waves, and breastinc: the stream. 
 You let yourself float with it. You are the wise and 
 happy man. Victor. 
 
TO THE MINISTER OF THE INTERIOR. 129 
 
 L. 
 
 To His Excellency the Minister of the Interior. 
 
 5th January, 1830. 
 
 I have the honor to lay the following facts before His 
 Excellency the Minister of the Interior. 
 
 Last July, when the Comedie Frangaise wished to 
 put on the stage the first drama that I had written, 
 Marion de Lorme, I applied to M. de Martignac, who 
 was then Minister, for exemption from the jurisdiction 
 of the censorship, and for permission to submit to the 
 Minister's censorship alone, a favor which he had 
 already granted to several dramatic authors. This is 
 how I explained to him verbally and in writing what 
 harm he might do me by handing over my play to the 
 censors. 
 
 The dramatic censors are all taken from the literary 
 party opposed to us, which is a compliment to the party 
 that claims full liberty in artistic matters, to which I am 
 proud to belong (not that I wish to saddle the whole of 
 the old school with the faults of some of its members, 
 but it is a fact I point out by the way). Now these^ 
 censors, mostly dramatic authors themselves, all of them 
 interested champions of the old literary as well as of the 
 old political regime, are my opponents, and, if need be, 
 my natural enemies. What is a play that has not been 
 acted ? One of the most fras^ile and uncertain thinofs 
 on the face of the earth. A scene, a line, a word di- 
 vulged and travestied beforehand, is quite enough, as 
 every theatre knows, to kill a dramatic work before it 
 has seen the light. The result is that the censorship, 
 wliicli is an odious annoyance for every literary school, 
 
 VOL. I. 9 
 
130 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 is, for us advocates of the freedom of art, something 
 still worse, — a snare, a trap, an ambuscade. It is there- 
 fore of great importance to me that five open enemies 
 should not be let into the secret of my play before it is 
 performed, and should not be able to reveal the details 
 of it beforehand to cabals which are interested in de- 
 livering a well-prepared attack on it. For a person in 
 my position, the censorship is the worst kind of cabal. 
 
 This is wdiat I said to the Minister then in office. He 
 saw fit to refuse me the favor which he had srranted to 
 others. My application w\as rejected. 
 
 The only concession I secured was that 3Inrion cle 
 Lorme should be read by one censor only, the choice 
 of whom was left to me, although I was not allowed 
 to select any one outside the censors' department. I 
 chose a literary man who appeared to me to be the 
 most deserving of confidence, and ^\'ith whom I had been 
 on friendly terms before he became a censor. This 
 examiner, as he called himself, reproached me almost 
 tenderly for my distrust of the censorship. He quite 
 understood, so he said, all the disadvantages and risks 
 of having verses divulged, hawked about, mutilated, 
 and parodied before the performance of a drama, but 
 he added that my fears of the censorship carried me too 
 far. The dramatic examiners, he continued, are not men 
 of letters. Intrusted with a purely official duty, that 
 of eliminating political allusions, they have not, and 
 ought not to have, anything to do with the literary 
 merits of work submitted to them. Their function 
 begins and ends with their official duty. A censor 
 who would maHciously divulge the details of the work 
 which he had examined would be, and I quote his own 
 
TO THE MINISTER OF THE IXTERIOR. 131 
 
 Tvords, as culpable and as deserving of reprobation as 
 the priest who revealed the secrets of the confessional. 
 
 This is what the then censor said to me. Such lan- 
 guage would doubtless have reassured any one of less 
 stubborn views than mine on the ways of man and of 
 the police. However, M. de la Bourdon naye became 
 Minister, and Marion de Lorme was prohibited. Faith- 
 ful to my conscientious and artistic work, I did my best 
 to repair the injury which the Minister had done me. 
 I wrote Hernani. The Comedie Frcmgaise at once 
 took up the drama. It had to be submitted to the Gov- 
 ernment. I have no favor to ask from the present 
 Ministry, so I sent my drama to the censorship just as 
 it was, without making any demands or taking any 
 precautions, though not without misgiving. I remem- 
 bered the asseverations of the censor of Marion de 
 Lorme, however, and I tried to persuade myself, with 
 some difficulty, that there are men who can carry on a 
 somewhat dishonest trade in an honest way. 
 
 This, however, is what has happened since Hernani 
 has been submitted to the censors. Some verses of the 
 drama, partly travestied, or wholly turned into ridicule, 
 a few quoted correctly, but ingeniously dovetailed with 
 spurious ones, bits of scenes, in fact, more or less skill- 
 fully disfigured and outrageously parodied, have been 
 put into circulation. ' 
 
 Portions of the work dressed up in this way have 
 received the semi-publicity which writers and theatres so 
 justly dread. The authors of these underhand tricks 
 have hardly taken the trouble to hide themselves ; they 
 have done it in broad daylight, and have simply selected 
 the newspapers as the medium of their discreet con- 
 
132 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 fidences. They have gone further. Not content with 
 prostituting the piece to their papers, they are now 
 engaged in prostituting it to their salons, 
 
 I hear on all sides (and the matter has attained a 
 public notoriety to which I can bear witness) that spuri- 
 ous copies of Hernani have been made, and that the 
 whole drama, or part of it, has been read in many places, 
 and especially in the house of a head clerk in M. de 
 Corbiere's department. 
 
 Now all this is very serious. 
 
 It is needless to point out the effect which such pro- 
 ceedings are intended to produce by their authors, on a 
 drama the fate of which is settled in a coujdIc of hours, 
 and often without appeal. 
 
 Now, from what source do these practices proceed? 
 From what copy of Ilernani can all these parodies, these 
 spurious versions, these fraudulent copies, these surrep- 
 titious readings, have been made ? I draw the Minister's 
 special attention to this. 
 
 There are only two copies of Hernani in existence 
 besides the one in my house. One has been lodged at 
 the theatre ; that is the one used every day for rehearsals. 
 As soon as the rehearsal is over the manuscript is put 
 under lock and key. No one can have access to it. 
 The Secretary of the Comedie Frangaise, to whom the 
 greatest care is enjoined as soon as the piece is received, 
 is under the strictest obligation to keep it secret. The 
 other manuscript is in the censor's office. 
 
 Now pirated copies are being circulated. Where 
 can they come from? I ask once more. From the 
 theatre, whose hopes they would blight, whose interests 
 they would ruin, where the greatest caution is observed, 
 
TO PAUL LACROIX. 133 
 
 where the thhig is an impossibility, — or from the 
 censors ? 
 
 The censorship has one manuscript at its disposal, a ' 
 manuscript with which it can do what it likes. The 
 censorship is my literary and political enemy. It has 
 the privilege of being dishonest and disloyal. I impeach 
 the censorship. — ^ 
 
 I beg His Excellency to accept the assurance of the 
 profound respect with which I am his most obedient, 
 humble servant, Victor Hugo. 
 
 LI. 
 
 To Paul Lacroix. 
 
 Tith February, 1830. Midnight?- 
 
 Thank you a thousand times, my dear, good friend. 
 I see your kind heart in all you do for me. I wish you 
 had been at the theatre to-night. You would have 
 laughed. The classic cabal wanted to bite, and did bite, 
 but thanks to our friends it broke its teeth. The third 
 act got some rough treatment, which it will receive for 
 some time to come, but the fourth act silenced oppo- 
 sition, and the fifth went admirably, better even than 
 the first time. Mile. Mars surpassed herself. She was 
 recalled, cheered, and overwhelmed with applause. She 
 was enchanted. 
 
 I think we are all right now. The receipts of the 
 two first nights amounted to nine thousand francs, 
 which is unprecedented at this theatre. But we must 
 not rest on our laurels. The enemy is on the alert. 
 Tlie tliird performance must discourage them, if possi- 
 ble. Therefore in the name of our cherished literary 
 
 ^ On returning from the second performance of Hernani. 
 
134 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 freedom summon the whole elan of brave and faithful 
 friends for Monday. I look to you to help me in pull- 
 ing out this last tooth of the old classic Pegasus. To 
 the rescue, and advance ! 
 
 I am besieged by publishers. Please send M. Fournier 
 to me. Or what do you think of this? Everybody 
 advises me not to negotiate myself, as I aui so weak 
 and easy-going in money matters, but to select a friend 
 to discuss terms with the publishers. Would it be 
 troubling you too much, my dear friend, to ask you to 
 do me this service ? Would you have the time for it ? 
 Above all, do you think it should be done without me ? 
 Give me your best advice on the matter. 
 
 Tell your good brother that I count on him for Mon- 
 day, although Hernani must bore him terribly. The 
 great cause is at stake, and not myself personally. 
 
 Yours most affectionately, Victor Hugo. 
 
 My respectful comphments to Mme. Lacroix. 
 
 LII. 
 
 To Ar]mand Carrel. 
 
 15/A MarcJi, 1830. 
 
 I had been at work up to five o'clock this morning, 
 and was fast asleep when M. Armand Carrel called. I 
 am very sorry that I was not woke up, not for M. Carrel's 
 sake, but for my own. I am alike too morose and too 
 shy for any one to be very desirous of knowing me, or 
 to be very anxious to know other people myself. These 
 opportunities, however, of meeting my fellow-men, which 
 I am inclined to avoid from love of soHtude and natural 
 melancholy, I have always wished for in M. Carrel's 
 
TO ARMAND CARPwEL. 135 
 
 case. I do not see why I should not admit this here, 
 whatever advantage the admission may give him over 
 me. All that I know of him^ whether from his works 
 or his friends, his stern and vigorous type of ability and 
 character, his honorable and courageous career, his early 
 conflicts with political tribunals, everything down to the 
 one occasion on which I conversed with him at Rabbe's 
 house, and when, as I was told, I had the misfortune to 
 offend him, animated as we both were at the time by 
 very different political enthusiasm, — all this has long 
 inspired me with one of those warm sympathies in favor 
 of M. Carrel which, as a rule, sooner or later, ripen into 
 friendship. 
 
 And after all, far apart as we may seem to each 
 other at the present moment, there is perhaps a greater 
 analogy between us than M. Carrel himself is aware of. 
 I w^as struggling while he was struggling ; while he was 
 breasting the political current I was breasting the literary 
 current. We have both been outlaws, so to speak, at 
 the same time. Only, his case was more serious than 
 mine, and consequently of a much finer type. I have 
 been proscribed by the Academy only. 
 
 For eight years, however, I have been bearing the 
 burden and the heat of the day, and have pursued my 
 task without being diverted from it by personal defense 
 of myself against the thousand and one attacks which 
 have rained upon me day by day. In an age when 
 everything is done by salons and newspapers, I began 
 and continued my career without a single salon or news- 
 paper. My life has been one of solitude, of conscientious 
 devotion to my art. And I would draw M. Carrel's 
 special attention to this : born to a large fortune under 
 
136 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the Empire, both Empire and fortune have failed me. 
 At the age of twenty I found myself a married man, a 
 father of a family, with no resource but my labor, and 
 living from hand to mouth like a workman, while Fer- 
 dinand VII. had sequestrated and was spending my 
 property. Now from that time, and the fact is perhaps 
 unusual enough for me to be proud of it, having been 
 obliged to live by my pen and to support my family wdth 
 it, I have kept it free from all speculative transactions, 
 from all mercantile engagements. I have done literary 
 work more or less well, but never literary speculation. 
 A poor man, I have cultivated art like a rich man, for 
 its own sake, thinking more of the future than of the 
 present. Forced by hard times to make a business of 
 writing, I can truly say that business considerations 
 have never impaired the value of my work. 
 
 This is wdiat I should have said (at greater length, and 
 because a man of his stamp is worth the trouble) to M. 
 Armand Carrel, if I had had the honor of seeing him. 
 He is, moreover, the only man to whom I have, as it 
 were, opened the door of my inner life, and I beg him, 
 whatever may be his opinion of this letter, to treat it 
 as confidential. 
 
 As for Hernani, we have got far beyond it now, far 
 above it, as it seems to me. I care much more for wdiat 
 M. Carrel says on the subject than for what appears in 
 the National. I know that newspapers can do material 
 service or injury, but my hvelihood is assured for the 
 next eighteen months, and consequently I care little for 
 the material aspect of the question. I am not sorry, by 
 the way, that I did not see M. Armand Carrel, as he has 
 still an article to write. I should not have liked him to 
 
TO ARMAND CARREL. 137 
 
 suspect me of "svisliing to influence him, and I hope he 
 has not had any idea of this. Later on, if he wishes it, 
 I Avill go and see him, and, whatever his article may he 
 Hke, shake him by the hand. Whatever his article may 
 be like, I repeat, for I shall always be very gratefid 
 to him for it. If it is severe, its frankness will please 
 me ; if favorable, nothing could be of greater value to 
 me, for the good opinion of a superior man arms one 
 with fresh strength and courage against mediocrities. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 Sir, — I have only seen to-day by chance your article 
 of yesterday about me. 
 
 I neither ordered nor commanded the Journal cles 
 Dehats to insert my answer to M. Z. A letter which I 
 have just written to M. Z., and which that witty writer 
 will doubtless hasten to make public, will sufficiently 
 clear up this point. 
 
 As for the answer itself, this is what I have to say to 
 you. I did not confine myself to quoting, as you assert, 
 two discredited odes of J. B. [Rousseau]. The extracts 
 I made from that poet are taken from 7ime of his poems 
 (seven odes and two cantatas), the majority of which 
 are those most admired by the classicists, especially 
 the ode to the Count du Luc ; you declare that not 
 one of these extracts is to be found amono- Rousseau's 
 ceiivres cho isles ; the only volume I have of this poet 
 is his ceicvres choisies, and from it I took all my quo- 
 tations. 
 
 I did not, however, expect to be accused by the clas- 
 sicists of admiration for J. B. Rousseau. One must 
 
138 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 get accustomed to everything, and I confess this is a 
 matter of indifference to me. I only quoted Rousseau 
 to M. Z. because he quoted him himself ; in the same 
 way, I quoted Horace and Virgil against him, because 
 he had appealed to these admirable poets. It seemed to 
 me piquant to fight him with his own weapons. 
 
 You censure me for having said I was j^^'essed for 
 time, because, according to you, three months had 
 elapsed between the date of M. Hoffman's article and 
 my reply. You are mistaken. M. Hoffman's article 
 appeared six weeks ago, on the 14th of June. I was 
 absent from Paris then, and did not return till the 19th. 
 On the 21st of June my letter was in the hands of 
 M. Z. You see, it is not my fault that it was not pub- 
 lished sooner. It had been in the office of the Dehats 
 for five weeks. I was therefore not wrong in saying 
 I was pressed for time, as this letter of four columns 
 was composed in a few hours. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 To MM. Abel Desjardixs, Lacax, Duberthier, Doddeau, 
 
 M;6cHAix, law students. 
 
 With the greatest pleasure, gentlemen, — all young 
 hearts are generous. They must decide between me 
 and my enemies. I place myseK unreservedly in your 
 hands. Victor Hugo. 
 
 2d Gallery. Entrance by tbe small door next to 
 
 Mme. Chevet's house, between 
 Five places. four and five o'clock. 
 
TO ADOLPIIE DE SAINT-V.VLRY. 139 
 
 LV. 
 
 To Charles Nodiek. 
 
 28f/i Juhj, 1830. Morning. 
 
 God has just sent me a great blessing, dear Nodier, 
 — my wife was safely delivered last night of a fat, 
 cliubby-elieeked, healthy daughter. You must share in 
 this joy, as I wish to share in all yours. 
 
 Inform Mme. Nodier of our happiness, and tell IMlle. 
 Marie that she has a little sister. 
 
 Farewell, my friend ; I hope to see you soon. I am 
 delighted with my little daughter. Here at last is a 
 work of mine which has a j)rospect of life. 
 
 Victor. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 ^th August, [1830?!]. 
 
 Thank you a thousand times, my dear friend. We 
 are quite quiet ; all is going on well at present, and 
 will, I hope, continue to do so. The population of 
 Paris is behaving admirably, but something must soon 
 be orjyanized. 
 
 Give my love to all around you. 
 
 Yours ever, Victor H. 
 
 LVI I. 
 
 To Adolphe de Saint- Valry. 
 
 Paris, 7th August, 1830. 
 Thanks, my dear friend, for your kind and friendly 
 letter. That is how we ought always to write to each 
 other, and love each other. Between old friends Hke 
 
 ^ After the July Ilcvolution. 
 
140 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 US there sliould be no coquetry, but a good, solid, cor- 
 dial affection. We received the kindest treatment from 
 your good mother. She offered to take us all in, but 
 it would not have been right for me to accept her hospi- 
 tality, and so I declined it. We were a whole houseful, 
 three children, two servants, and my wife near her con- 
 finement. This was too large a party, and it was only 
 reasonable we should go to the inn. And then, your 
 little town of Montfort-l'Amaury is such a curious place 
 that I am really not sure (this is between ourselves and 
 iokino-ly) whether I should not have somewhat com- 
 promised your good mother in my double character of 
 political and literary Liberal. Are you aware that these 
 good folk are still in their royalist honepnoon of 1815, 
 and that when they have called So-and-So a Liberal 
 they have employed their w^orst term of abuse, and have 
 exhausted their indignation ? Lnagine what they 
 would have thought of me, interrupting their embraces 
 and their congratulations on the Polignac decrees by 
 saying to them : Paris has upset the coiqos-d^etat maker ; 
 Poliofnac is done for, even the Bourbons have dis- 
 appeared ! and both Minister and dynasty, the one 
 culpable and the other blind, only get their deserts ! — 
 it would have been falling among them like a Paris 
 bomb, a tricolor flag, or a red cap. I am not quite 
 sure if I ought not to have been under some apprehen- 
 sion ; I was told in a whisper, not to S]jeci]z — to be 
 prudent. It was laughable. You understand now that 
 if I had stayed with your mother she would have been 
 lost forever in the good opinion of the little royalist so- 
 ciety of Montf ort. At all events, I only compromised the 
 inn. Perhaps it will lose its sign of \hejleur de lys. 
 
TO ALPIIOXSE DE LAMARTIXE. 141 
 
 We are now back here, my dear friend, satisfied l)ut 
 nneasy ; thinking, however, of you, and loving you 
 always, with faith in the future and in you. 
 
 Victor. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 To ALrnoxsE de Lasiartine, at his Country-seat of Saint-Point 
 
 near Macon. 
 
 Paris, 1th September, 1830. 
 
 Between your letter and my reply, my dear friend, 
 has come a Kevolution. On the 28th of July, just as I 
 was going' to write to you, the cannonade made me drop 
 my pen. Since then, in this vortex which surrounds us 
 and makes us giddy, it has been impossible to devote 
 a thought to poetry or friendship. The fever attacks 
 every one, and you cannot defend yourself against 
 outside impressions; the contagion is in the air. It 
 infects you in spite of yourself ; art, poetry, the stage, 
 disappear at such a moment. The chambers, the coun- 
 try, the nation, absorb everything. Politics becomes 
 one's life. 
 
 However, when once this earthquake has gone by, 
 I am convinced w^e shall find our poetical edifice stand- 
 ing, and all the stronger for the shocks which it will 
 have withstood. Our cause is also one of liberty ; it 
 is a revolution, too : it will advance unharmed side by 
 side with its political sister. Revolutions, lili:e wolves, 
 do not prey on each other. 
 
 Your letter delighted me. It is good, nice, cordial 
 pi-ose, l)ut now I expect the poetry. Do not forget tliat 
 you promised to send it to me. 
 
 Farewell. Wliere are you? Wliat are you doing? 
 When are you coming back? I had my own domestic 
 
142 THE LETTERS OF YICTOR HUGO. 
 
 anxieties in the middle of the social revolution. My 
 wife's confinement took place while the bullets were 
 shattering the slates on our roof. She was safely de- 
 livered^ and I am now the father of four children. 
 
 They are all flourishing. One day they will all love 
 and admire you as I do. Victor Hugo. 
 
 My compliments to Mme. de Lamartine. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 To Victor Pa^te. 
 
 llth September, 1830. 
 
 Thank you for your kind letter, my dear Pavie. I 
 am glad to hear you are well, that you found your 
 kind father and brother in good health, and that you 
 still think of me a little amid all the excitement of the 
 holidays. What you say about those lines goes to my 
 heart. I wrote them with the intention that you should 
 feel them in that way. Tell our friend Theodore [Pavie] 
 that he has a share of your vivid and fine imagination. 
 What I read of his in the FeulUeton delighted me. 
 
 My wife got over her confinement capitally ; just 
 after the shooting and cannonading was over she pre- 
 sented me with a little girl with a tiny mouth ; Sainte- 
 Beuve is to be godfather ; we are going to call her 
 Adele, and she is to be baptized on Sunday. We 
 shall drink your health. 
 
 I am over head and ears in JSfotre-Dame. I fill sheet 
 after sheet, and the subject grows and lengthens before 
 me to such an extent that I am not sure whether my 
 manuscript will not reach the level of the towers. 
 
 As for Marion de Lorme, I am waiting till the theatre 
 
TO M. FROIDEFOND DES FORGES. 143 
 
 is reorganized, and I much hope you will then he in Paris. 
 You know that your applause sweetens my success, if 
 there is any success in the case. 
 
 My love to you and yours. Victor. 
 
 LX. 
 
 To M. Froidefoxd des Forges, commanding the 4tth battalion 
 of the 1st Legion of the National Guard in Paris. 
 
 Paris, 1th October, 1830. 
 
 My dear Commander and Comrade, — The letter 
 you have heen good enough to write me surprises me 
 very much. 
 
 The principle which regulates promotion in the 
 National Guards is election. The power of the general- 
 in-command himself is subject to election, and ought, 
 in my opinion, to have been submitted to the legions 
 for their satisfaction. I was appointed, by the free choice 
 of my fellow- citizens of the 1st Legion, sub-lieutenant 
 assistant secretary to the council of discipline. You 
 announced my appointment yourself in presence of all 
 the electors who had just voted. I am therefore sub- 
 lieutenant assistant secretary to the council of discipline 
 by the paramount fact of election. The rank and the 
 of&ce are inseparable. They are derived from the same 
 source ; they possess the same value. 
 
 Your letter of to-day, however, informs me that I am 
 still secretary to the council, but have ceased to be an 
 officer, and that this is in consequence of a decision of 
 the general-in-command. There must be some mistake 
 here, eitlier deception of the general-in-command or a 
 usur])ation of authority which cannot have proceeded 
 from the oldest and most illustrious champion of liberty. 
 
144 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 No decision, even of the general-in-commancl, even 
 of the King, can invahdate an election. An election is 
 sacred, incontestable, paramount. Election, being the 
 actual source of all power, cannot depend on any one. 
 
 Whether it be the sergeant's stripes or the colonel's 
 epaulets, every grade in the National Guards is of equal 
 intrinsic value. All start from the same principle. All 
 should be prized alike by the citizens who receive them. 
 They cannot allow the slightest discredit to be inflicted 
 on the commission ^ conferred on them by their fellow- 
 citizens. It is a trust which they hold from election, 
 and which they can only return to election, but intact 
 and uninjured. 
 
 These are high-sounding principles about a small 
 affair. But in these days everything forms one consist- 
 ent whole. The crown of a king, the epaulet of a sub- 
 lieutenant, are derived from the same authority, — that 
 of election. Both proceed from the sovereignty of the 
 people. 
 
 To-day the principle has been ^aolated in my person. 
 The choice of my fellow-citizens has conferred on me 
 a rank and an office. No power upon earth can divide 
 the commission and keep the rank while dropping the 
 office. 
 
 A law must be passed to meet the case. We will 
 all discuss the basis of it. In the meanwhile, let us 
 keep to the strict principle. 
 
 I maintain that I am inviolably clothed with the rank 
 which you yourself announced that I was invested with, 
 and which the decision you have done me the honor to 
 communicate to me claims to revoke. This decision is 
 null and void, in fact and in law. 
 
TO MME. BENJAMIN CONSTANT. 145 
 
 I protest against it, and I beg you to be so good as 
 to have it promptly revoked by the general-in-command. 
 Publicity given to a fact of this kind might lead to 
 untoward results. 
 
 I am convinced that our illustrious general will be 
 grateful to me for this protest. It proves my boundless 
 confidence in his loyalty to principle. In calling his 
 attention to-day to a decision which has been snatched 
 from him, in resisting it, if need be, with all my strength, 
 I am acting as he would act in my place. I am proving 
 myself, so far as in my power lies, his pupil. To uphold 
 the rights of all is the duty of each of us. 
 
 I beg you will be so good as to submit this letter to 
 the freneral-in-command. 
 
 I have the honor to be, my dear commander and 
 comrade, with sincere regard, your obedient servant, 
 
 Victor Hugo, 
 
 Sub-licutenant Assistant Secretary 
 to the Council of Discipline. 
 
 LXI. 
 
 To Mme. Bexjaiviin Constant. 
 
 8^^ November, 1830. 
 
 Dear Madame, — Your private misfortune is a pub- 
 lic calamity. Your loss is ours as well. Permit me to 
 tell you that at the funeral of this illustrious man to- 
 morrow there will l)e one deeply afflicted lieart among 
 the people which will mourn for him. This heart will 
 be mine, madame. I have seen but too little of M. Ben- 
 jamin (Constant. Still, I think I may say that I h)ved 
 him. Ilis was one of those frreat minds Avliich iill so 
 large a space in a century that all, even those most lost 
 
 VOL. r. 10 
 
146 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 in the crowd, cannot help often admiring its grandeur 
 and continually studying its proportions. 
 
 Pardon me, madame, for intruding on your grief. 
 Amid the chorus of great voices which will be raised to 
 glorify him and console you, one voice more, an obscure 
 voice, a voice from the crowd, is of small account for 
 you and for him. But I wanted something of my 
 sorrow to reach yours. And then, I am not one of those 
 who presume to console you, madame. This calamity 
 concerns us all so much that I should need consolation 
 myself. 
 
 There is one thing, however, which, though it cannot 
 console you, may help to assuage your grief by enlarg- 
 ing it, if possible, and that is the thought that in 
 France, in Europe, in the whole world, every enlightened 
 mind will mourn for Benjamin Constant with you. He 
 leaves two widows behind him, you and France. 
 
 I have the honor to be, madame, with deep respect, 
 your very humble servant, Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 To Mlle. IMaks, Rue Saint-Lazare. 
 
 6th January, 1831. 
 
 I have received a letter from Paul, madame, in which 
 he communicates to me the conversation he had the 
 honor of ha^dng mth you yesterday on the subject of 
 Marion de Lorme. I hasten to send you the explana- 
 tion which he thought you desired. I have but one 
 wish, madame, and that is, to see you in the part of 
 Marion de Lorme. You gave such an admirable inter- 
 pretation of the part of Doiia Sol that I cannot help 
 often thinking how much you would make of Marion. 
 
TO VICTOR PA VIE. 147 
 
 Besides, you were so good to me that it is a pleasure 
 to me to think that I can show you some gratitude 
 by phici ng at your disposal the part w^hich you have 
 the kindness to wish for. I will keep it for you then, 
 and I may tell you that I have refused all proposals 
 from other quarters. 
 
 I still hope, therefore, to see you in the part of 
 Marion. But, as you know, madame, the obstacles 
 which stopped me still exist, at least those relating to 
 the present composition of the administration of the 
 theatre and to its position. I am led to hope that they 
 will soon disappear, that is to say, that the company will 
 be dissolved and the theatre offered to the public. In 
 that case, madame, I shall hasten to apply to you, if you 
 are still willing to assist me. 
 
 I hope to go and see you very soon. The first visit 
 I pay will be to you. Just now I am finishing some 
 very urgent work. Permit me in the mean time to kiss 
 your hand, and to offer you my tribute of respect and 
 admiration. Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXIII. 
 
 To Victor Pavie, 60 or G4 Rue Saint-Aiidre-des-Arcs. 
 
 2oth February, 1831. 
 
 You are right, my dear friend, — perfectly right. I 
 never thought of managing a theatre, but only of hav- 
 ing one of my own. I do not want to be the man- 
 ager of a company of actors, but the proprietor of an 
 estabHshment, the master of a studio in wliich art could 
 be turned out on a grand scale, with everybody, man- 
 ager and actors, under me, and at a distance from me. 
 I want to l)e able to mould and remould the clay to 
 
148 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 my own liking, to melt and remelt the wax, and, to do 
 this, the clay and the wax must both belong to me. 
 Besides, there will be somebody to administer and man- 
 age on my behalf. I shall only write the plays, and, 
 once the machine is started, shall perhaps go off and 
 write them on the Lake of Como, or on the banks of 
 the Rhine, or in your house. In this way I shoidd be 
 even less mixed up with theatrical matters than if I 
 remained an outside author. What contaminates a po(3t 
 is all the worries of the green-room. You can under- 
 stand that there can be none of these worries for the 
 master. Besides, shall I ever have a theatre, and is not 
 all this a mere dream ? 
 
 But set your mind at rest ; come and see me ; I will 
 finish this letter with a talk. I cannot tell you how 
 greatly yours has touched me. I would not wound so 
 noble and tender a friendship for anything in the world, 
 even if my friend were wrong, but in this instance he is 
 right. I am, and always w\as, of the same opinion as 
 you. My real nature does not alter ; you know I am 
 a synthetic man, and in consequence full of prejudices. 
 
 Treat this letter as quite confidential for a thousand 
 reasons, and come and see me. I have a favor to ask 
 of you. 
 
 Ex imo corde, V. H. 
 
 LXIV. 
 
 To Mme. !Mexessier Nodier, Ifetz. 
 
 Sunday, oth September, 1831. 
 
 You are really too kind, madame ; and so is Charles. 
 An article from Charles on Marion would be more than 
 a distinction for me, — it would be a piece of good for- 
 tune. My poor play has been strangely flattered and 
 
TO MME. MEXESSIER XODIER. 149 
 
 daubed by the critics. It wants a hand lilvc that of my 
 friend and your father to clean it up a Httle. 
 
 It would also be very kind of him to let the Temj)s 
 know that he is writing his article on Marion in book 
 form, if such a thing exists. I am ashamed of giving 
 him this trouble in addition to that which he is already 
 taking for me ; but his influence with the Temps^ as in 
 every other quarter, should have more credit and author- 
 ity than any other, and especially than mine. 
 
 There are so many glaring printer's errors in the first 
 edition of Marion that I do not like to lend it you in 
 this state. The publisher, it appears, is preparing a 
 second edition ; I hope to offer you a copy, if there are 
 not so many typographical enormities, and especially 
 if the paper is not so hideous. Up to the present, 
 Marion has been clothed in common shop paper. The 
 book looks as if it had come from the grocer's. It is 
 true that it is bound to return there. 
 
 Do not go away yet, madame, I beg of you. Let me 
 at least have the happiness of spending an hour or two 
 with you. 
 
 My respectful compliments to Mme. Nodier, and my 
 love to Charles. 
 
 Your respectful and devoted friend, Victor. 
 
 My wife sends you her best love. 
 I hate Metz! 
 
 LXV. 
 To King Joseph. 
 
 Paris, (Sth Septeinher, 1831. 
 
 SiiiE, — Your letter has touched me deeply. I can- 
 not adequately express my thanks to Your Majesty. 
 
150 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I have not forgotten^ sire, that my father was your 
 friend. This was the word he used himself. I was 
 filled with gratitude and joy in seeing it come from Your 
 Majesty's pen. 
 
 I have seen M. Poinnet. He gave me the impression 
 of being a man of real distinction. You, however, sire, 
 are, and always have been, a good judge. I talked 
 with him openly. He will tell you of my hopes, of my 
 wishes, of all my thoughts. I believe that the future 
 contains events of an unfailing, calculable, necessary 
 kind, which destiny would bring to pass of itself ; but 
 it is sometimes good that the hand of man should aid 
 the force of things a little. Providence is generally 
 slow-footed. One can hasten its steps. 
 
 It is because I am devoted to France, to liberty, that 
 I believe in the future of your royal nephew.^ He can 
 be of great service to his country. If he were to give, 
 as I do not doubt he would, the guarantees required by 
 the ideas of emancipation, of progress, and of liberty, 
 no one would rally to this new order of things more 
 cordially and more zealously than I, and with me, sire, I 
 can answer for it, all the rising generation in France, 
 which venerates the name of the emperor, and on which, 
 obscure as I am, I perhaps have some influence. 
 
 It is on the rising generation that we must rely, sire. 
 The old adherents of the empire have been ungrateful, 
 or are worn out. The rising generation is everything 
 now in France. It bears in its bosom the future of the 
 country, and it knows it. 
 
 I shall receive with gratitude the valuable documents 
 which Your Majesty intends sending me by M. Presles. 
 
 1 The Duke of Reichstadt, 
 
TO KING JOSEPH. 151 
 
 I tliink Your Majesty can do an immense deal for the 
 son o£ the Emperor. 
 
 I know that Your Majesty has always been a lover of 
 letters, and has cultivated them with such success as to 
 shed lustre even on a throne. Your approval, therefore, 
 so enlightened and so kindly, is in every way a distinc- 
 tion for me. Permit me then, sire, to offer Your Majesty, 
 as a personal compliment, a copy of my last w^ork. As 
 M. Poinnet is leaving to-morrow, I have no time to 
 present it in a form more worthy of Your Majesty. I 
 hope you will read it with indulgence. You wdll see in 
 it, as in all my other works, the name of the Emperor. 
 I always allude to him, because he is always in my mind. 
 If Your Majesty has honored me by reading what 1 
 have hitherto written, you will have noticed that in each 
 of my works my admiration for your illustrious brother 
 has grown deeper and deeper, more and more heartfelt, 
 more and more free from the royahst alloy of my early 
 days. 
 
 Count on me, sire ; the little I can I will do for the 
 heir of the ai-eatest name in the world. I think he can 
 save France. I wdll say it, I will write it, and, please 
 God, I will print it. 
 
 What you have done for my father and for my family 
 will never be forgotten l^y me. In raising the name of 
 Napoleon as high as I am able, in defending it as a loyal 
 soldier against every attack, against every insult, I have 
 the twofold task of discharging a duty and paying a 
 debt. 
 
 I am, with deep respect, Your Majesty's most humble 
 servant, Victor Hugo. 
 
152 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 To Cordelliee-Delaxotje. 
 
 Sunday, 27th September, [1831]. 
 
 It is I, my dear, good friend, who at once abandon 
 the idea oi Louis XVI.,^ — at any rate, until after the 
 performance of Sti^qfford. You may depend on this. 
 There, my dear friend, the pleasure which I feel in 
 making this sacrifice for you outweighs the sacrifice, if 
 there is any sacrifice in it. 
 
 If I can hit upon any other contrivance, such as 
 mentioning Bonaparte at the very beginning of the 
 play, and giving up the effect of the name thrown in 
 at the end, I will submit it to you as between friends, 
 ut decet. And, in any case, I repeat, Louis XVI. 
 will only be performed when you wish, and not at all 
 if you so desire it. 
 
 I now remember perfectly well that you told me 
 about your idea, and I agree that mine has a great 
 resemblance to it. You have a prior right then. It is 
 the first time, I can honestly say, that I detect myself 
 in the very act of plagiarism. This distresses me. Is 
 it possible that the Archbishop of Granada is already 
 departing from his high principles ? 
 
 Besides, your line is sublmie, and contains an idea 
 which is the finest of all, and which I have not — 
 
 . . . Charles premier, je me nomme Cromwell. 
 
 There is nothing so grand as this in my piece. Bona- 
 
 1 At that time Victor Hugo had entertained the idea of writing a play 
 in which he would have confronted Bonaparte with Louis XVI., as M. 
 Cordellier-Delauoue had done with Cromwell and Charles I. 
 
TO BARON TAYLOR. 153 
 
 parte does not say the line to Louis XVI., and Bonaparte 
 is not the regicide of Louis XVI. 
 
 My warmest thanks for your kind and generous letter. 
 I do not wish Strafford to lose a hair of his head, nor 
 a single line, and I am looking forward to applauding 
 it before long with all the power of my hands and my 
 lungs. 
 
 Yours fraternally, Victor. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 30^7i September, [1831]. 
 
 I thank you, my dear Delanoue, for your generous 
 and warm-hearted letter, as one of the most valued 
 proofs of friendship that you could give me ; but I stick 
 to my guns. Louis XVI, must come after Strafford, 
 What I wrote to you, what I told you, was not a mere 
 comphment, but sincerely meant. I had quite made up 
 my mind, and when I received your letter I had already 
 abandoned Louis XVI. for a fresh victim. Go on 
 with Strafford, then, my friend ! I am as fond of it 
 as I am of you. What comes from your heart will 
 always appeal to mine. Victor. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 To Baron Taylor. 
 
 Thursdaij, 1th Septemher, [1832]. 
 
 I am going away, my dear Taylor, the day after to- 
 morrow, Saturday, at one o'clock in the afternoon ; 
 I shall return to Paris on purpose for the reading of the 
 plece,^ but as I shall be obliged to return to Bievre" at 
 
 ' Le roi sWmuse. 2 Aux Roches, M. Bcrtiu's Louse. 
 
154 THE LETTERS OF AaCTOR HUGO. 
 
 six o'clock for dinner, and as the journey takes three 
 hourSj the reading must be over by three o'clock at 
 latest, and consequently it must begin at latest at half- 
 past ten. 
 
 I shall be glad, therefore, if you will call the meeting 
 for ten o'clock that day. I shall be obliged myself to 
 get up at six o'clock ; it is hard work, but I must do it. 
 You will find on the opposite page a sketch of the dis- 
 tribution of parts. I shall need your kind advice on 
 this, and it would be very good of you to come and see 
 me about it for a few moments, either to-morrow or the 
 day after, before twelve. You know what complete 
 confidence I have in you. 
 
 Does Mile. Mars accept ? Does Monrose wish for a 
 part ? In case Mile. Mars fails me, which do you advise 
 me to take. Mile. Anais or Mile. Brocard? I should 
 like to talk to you also about Dcsmousseaux, whom I 
 like and esteem, and for whom I will write a good part 
 before long. You see, I have endless things to say to 
 you, apart from our talk as friends. Victor. 
 
 It is very desirable that M. Ciceri and the costume 
 designer should be at the theatre on the day of the 
 reading, so that I can speak to them. 
 
 PROPOSED DISTRIBUTION OF PARTS. 
 Francois i" . . . . M. Bocage. 
 
 TrIBOULET . . . . M. LiGIER. 
 
 Blanche .... Mlle. Mars or Anais. 
 
 M. DE Saint- Vallier . . M. Joanny. 
 
 Saltabadil . . . . M. Monrose or Beauvallet. 
 
 Maguelonne . . . Mlle. Dupont. 
 
 Clement Marot . . . M. Samson. 
 
 M. DE Pienne . . . M. Geffroy. 
 
 M. DE Pardaillan (page) . Mme. Menjaud. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 155 
 
 m. duparay. 
 Mme. Masson. 
 M. Marius. 
 
 M. BOUCIIET. 
 M. MiRECOUR. 
 
 M. DE Coss^ . 
 Mme. de Cossi 
 
 M. DE GORDES 
 
 M. DE Vic 
 
 M. DE la Tour Landry 
 
 ]VLM. DE MoNTCHENU, y r M, Regnier. 
 
 DE Briox, and de > } M. Albert. 
 
 Montmorency. ) ( M. Montlaur. 
 
 Dame B^rarde . . . Mme. Tousez. 
 
 A Woman of the People . Mlle. Petit. 
 
 A Doctor . . . . M. Dumilatre. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 You see I need your advice for these secondary parts, 
 which, however, can be distributed later without any 
 inconvenience. 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 Monday, 22d October, 1832. 
 
 Mademoiselle, — Will you allow me to add a thu'd 
 scrawl to the two frightful ones that I am sending you? 
 Didine and Charlie have scribbled to their hearts' con- 
 tent, as you see ; and I ask forgiveness for them as well 
 as for myself. 
 
 We received your kind and delightful letter this 
 morning. Didine begged me to read it aloud, which I 
 did, to the general satisfaction of my tribe of little 
 ones. My wife was moved to tears by the nice affection- 
 ate way in which you write to the poor children. I 
 assure you all our time is spent in regretting Les Roches, 
 when I am not in Saltabadil's and Maguelonne's cave. 
 At every hour of the day we are reminded of some- 
 thing" pleasant that we did when we were with you. 
 Ligier told me yesterday at the rehearsal ^ that I was 
 
 ^ Of Le roi s^amme. 
 
156 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 reconstructing the French stage ; I would far rather 
 build a theatre of cards with you. 
 
 The weather is fine, and I am glad to think that the 
 autumn rains have not prevented M. Bertin from enjoy- 
 ing his walks in the beautiful garden of Les Roches. 
 Mind you tell him as well as Mme. Bertin how devoted 
 I am to you all. 
 
 You do not mention Edward, who I hope is working 
 like a horse, and who is very lucky in not being obliged 
 to have his landscapes acted. Give him my kind re- 
 membrances, please. 
 
 My wife tells me specially to beg you not to work too 
 hard, and to think a great deal of us. I need not recur 
 to my deep and respectful attachment to you. 
 
 I will have a search made for your knife, but Di- 
 dine declares she is sure she did not carry it off with 
 her. I think you will find it in some forgotten corner 
 of the paint-box. Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 Paris, 30/A October, 1832. 
 
 In spite of your prohibition, mademoiselle, I am 
 wi'iting to you again ; you must allow me to add a few 
 words to the style and spelling of my chicks. I am 
 sure I don't know where Antoni ^ would look for the 
 naif in art if these letters did not delight him. They 
 delight me, I assure you ; I give the children a free 
 rein, and the two little rogues write you everything that 
 comes into their heads. I must ask you to forgive 
 them. 
 
 ^ Antoni Deschamps. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 157 
 
 I must also ask your pardon on my own account for 
 having taken the Hberty of sendhig you a printed com- 
 position of mine recently. I have ventured to present 
 you with your libretto ^ in three volumes, and on China 
 paper. There are a few new pages in it here and there 
 for which I ask your indulgence, in case you read 
 them. 
 
 You must really pity me, in the first place, and a 
 great deal, for having left Les Roches, then a httle 
 for having been for a week in all the hateful confusion 
 of a move, carried out by the aid of one of those 
 so-called convenient machines which helped so many 
 poor wretches to move in a body to their last home at 
 the time of the cholera. For a whole w^eek I have been 
 in a chaos, nailing and hammering and looking like a 
 scarecrow. It is abominable. Fill up the intervals of 
 all this with the rehearsals which I am obHged to attend, 
 and the portrait ^ to be seen in Ingres' studio, w Inch I 
 want so much to see, and I have not yet been to see ! 
 Here are a lot of sees in the same sentence, but what 
 can you expect ? it is the style of an upholsterer's assist- 
 ant that I am treating you to to-day. 
 
 You can imagine how I regret Les Roches, the 
 delightful days, the delightful evenings and the houses 
 of cards, and Jamais dans ces beaux lieiix and Phoehus, 
 Vhenre api^elle. 
 
 My play will be performed between the 12tli and the 
 15th of November. Farewell, mademoiselle. I know 
 of a good and happy family for wdiich I have a heart- 
 
 ^ A copy of Notre-Dnme de Parh, the novel from which the opera of 
 Esmrrnlfla was constructed, the music being by Mile. Louise Bertiu. 
 ^ Of the elder M. Bertiu. 
 
158 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 felt affection, and that is yours. I would give the rest 
 of the world for Les Roches, and the rest of the people 
 in it for your family. Farewell once more, that is not 
 for long. When will you return ? 
 
 Your respectful and devoted coUahorafeiir, 
 
 Victor. 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 To THE Editor of the Coxstitutionnel. 
 — Paris, 20th November, 1832.i 
 
 Dear Sir, — I am informed that some of the gen- 
 erous young students in the schools and studios intend 
 going to the Theatre FraiK^ais this evening or to-mor- 
 row to demand the performance of Le vol s' amuse, and 
 to protest emphatically against the unprecedented act 
 of arbitrariness of which this piece has been the \actim. 
 I think, dear sir, that there are other ways of punishing 
 this illegal proceeding, and I shall resort to them. 
 Permit me therefore to make use of your paper for this 
 occasion to beg all friends of liberty, of art, and of 
 thought, to abstain from a violent demonstration, which 
 might perhaps end in the riot which the Government 
 has so long been trying to obtain. 
 
 Accept, dear sir, the assurance of my distinguished 
 consideration. Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 21th November, 1832. 
 
 Mademoiselle, — Whatever may be the unfortu- 
 nate political and literary disputes that have arisen, and 
 in which I have the consolation of not havino^ been 
 
 ^ Le roi s^amuse had been prohibited on the 23d of November, the day- 
 after the first performance. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 159 
 
 once ill the wrong/ I trust you have not doubted me 
 for one moment. You know that I am thoroughly- 
 devoted to you, mademoiselle, to your good father 
 (whom I love as if he were my own, and who, I am 
 sure, is more grieved than I am at the unprecedented 
 event which has befallen me), and to all who are dear 
 to you. This occurrence will ever have the happy 
 result in my eyes of convincing you that the relations 
 which I have been proud and happy to enter into with 
 you, whose fine character and high talents I admire so 
 much, have been inspired solely by disinterested feelings 
 of personal attachment. Pray tell your kind parents 
 not to stand on ceremony with me in any way, not to 
 think themselves bound to lay any restraint on the 
 literary or political controversies which they may deem 
 necessary to start against me in the new position in 
 which my enemies of every description have placed me ; 
 that I shall always be anxious to comply with your small- 
 est wish, wdiatever may happen ; and that I shall never 
 give up the work on which we are both engaged,^ unless 
 it be you, who — in yom^ own interests — think fit to 
 repudiate an association which entails such disturbance. 
 You know me. Mademoiselle Louise, and I am sure 
 you have already said all this to yourself ; I am con- 
 vinced that you rely implicitly on me. Answer for me 
 then, I beg you. I will go and see you. I will ask for 
 your commands, as in the past. I will place all my 
 leisure time at your disposal ; I will also ask you to pity 
 me a little, me, a quiet, serious man, for being thus 
 violently uprooted from all my habits, and for having 
 to sustahi a political as well as a literary conflict. 
 
 ^ The lawsuit about Le roi s^amuse. ^ La Esmeralda. 
 
160 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Where are our Happy days at Les Roches ? 
 Yours with the deepest respect and devotion, 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 To M. EuGEXE Renduel. 
 
 IDecember, 1832.] 
 
 I saw Carrel last night ; everything is arranged. He 
 has been most kind. I will tell you all the details. 
 Sainte-Beuve can write the article as he likes, and take 
 it to-day with the extract from the preface. Carrel will 
 put it all in. Carrel wants, besides, a long political 
 article on the case one of these days. You know that 
 Odilon Barrot will be my counsel : come and see me. 
 
 Here are a few hues for the Journal des Dehats, 
 written last night for me by one of my friends. The 
 letters are too large, and would look ridiculous. You 
 had better have it copied out again and take it at once. 
 
 Yours most sincerely, Victor H. 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 To M. ]\Ierimee, Secretary to M. le Comte cVArgout. 
 
 [December, 1832.] 
 
 From what you have done me the honor of wi'iting 
 to me, it appears that you had nothing whatever to do 
 with the influences which determined the Government 
 to illegally suspend my play. In a case of this kind, 
 the word of one man of honor is sufficient for another. 
 I hasten therefore to assure you that everything relating 
 to you personally in the circumstance, which I have 
 rather hinted at than related, without mentioning any 
 name whatever, disappears of itself in face of your 
 protest. 
 
TO BARON TAYLOR. 161 
 
 My own loyalty, in fact, imposes on me tlie duty of 
 leaving' no slur on yours. My case is of a general 
 nature, from which nothing should make me swerve, 
 and not a personal one, and I am anxious not to put 
 myself in any way in the wrong throughout. 
 
 I hope that my conduct on this occasion will prove 
 to you that nothing, so far as I am concerned, lessens 
 the reciprocal esteem to which you allude. V. H. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 To Barox Taylor. 
 
 3c? December, [1832]. 
 
 All that has happened, my dear Taylor, is not your 
 fault, nor that of the ComecUe, I know. I shall, how- 
 ever, be obliged to bring an action for damages against 
 the Theatre Frangais, because, unfortunately, this is 
 the only way of effecting a political impeachment of 
 the Ministry. But I still remain your friend. Odilon 
 Barrot will be my counsel ; the case will create a great 
 sensation^ but I should not lilie anything to be said 
 which might injure or compromise you personally. I 
 felt I must come to an understanding with you about 
 this. I put myself in your place, and I think it is my 
 duty, as a friend and an honest man, to treat you as I 
 should wish you to treat me if I were in your place and 
 you in mine, — a loyal w\ar to the knife on the Govern- 
 ment, l)ut all possible consideration consistent with the 
 necessities of the cause for you, Taylor, whom I like 
 and esteem. So come and breakfast with me to-morrow 
 morning, if you can. I will wait for you till eleven 
 o'clock. 
 
162 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 You will receive with this note your copy of Le roi 
 s' amuse and of Notre-Dame cle Paris, 
 
 Yours sincerely, Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 Sunday evening, 29i/i [^December, 1832]. 
 
 Just now, mademoiselle, my Didine remarked sadly 
 that we were with you a week ago. Having said which, 
 she set to work to write to you, and so did I, with the 
 result that our two letters, written together, will reach 
 you together, inspired with the same thought. 
 
 You know, do you not, that you are always in our 
 minds and always loved ? There are four little children 
 here who often talk of you, and their father who thinks 
 of you still oftener. 
 
 The last of the fine weather has departed. Mud and 
 w^inter are with us ao-ain. Paris is not cheerful. You 
 have the sky and the dead leaves. That is better than 
 the Rue Saint-Honore and its crowd of carts. 
 
 We hope Mme. Bertin is improving steadily. This 
 was the whole subject of our conversation at dinner 
 to-day. 
 
 Scold me ; I have not seen Duponchel yet. On the 
 other hand, I have seen Vedel, and that rhymes. I 
 dare say it is a matter of indifference to you, but I am 
 bringing a proces against the Frangais, That rhymes 
 too. But I could not help it. 
 
 The best thing I could do would be to go to Les 
 Roches and have a talk with your good father, with 
 you, with Edward, and walk to the foot of your beau- 
 tiful hills, and forget all about sheriffs' officers, tribunals 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 1G3 
 
 of commerce, and the Bourse, that pretty, stupid temple 
 dotted about with stockbrokers. 
 
 But my destiny impels me. I am furious with the 
 Comedie Frangaise, and must relieve my feelings by 
 a lawsuit. The extraordinary thing is, that it seems I 
 am sure to win with heavy damages and interest, vrhich 
 the Government will have to pay, according to what 
 the members of the Comedie say. 
 
 Excuse all this gossip. This stupid lawsuit is the 
 only bit of news I have for you. We have talked of 
 nothing else at home for the last week, and I pass on 
 some of my ennui to you. 
 
 Permit me to add to it the fresh assurance of an old, 
 deep, respectful, and devoted attachment, 
 
 Victor H. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 To THE Same. 
 
 15^^ February, 1833. 
 
 Mademoiselle, — Here are two copies of the scena- 
 rio for you at last, — one for you and one for M. 
 y eron.^ I thought you might want to refer to this de- 
 tailed plan. 
 
 I am still undecided about the last scene. It is only 
 a trifle, and yet, I assure you, it is very difficult to hit 
 on anything which is not either wholly unconnected 
 with the poem or flat and commonplace. 
 
 From what you told me the other night, I agree 
 with you about the apotheosis, and I give up the sky 
 altogether. 
 
 I wanted to bring you this parcel myself yesterday 
 evening. But my wife took me by divine right to 
 
 ^ Manager of the opera. 
 
164 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Bertrand et Baton, which bored us in a prodigious and 
 surprising manner. 
 
 With the scenario I send the manuscript, and the 
 scraps of paper it contained. 
 
 Good-by for the present, mademoiselle. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 To King Joseph. 
 
 Paris, 21th February, 1833. 
 
 Sire, — I take the first safe opportunity of replying 
 to your letter. M. Presles, who is leaving for Lon- 
 don, has consented to take this letter to Your Majesty. 
 Allow me, Sire, to treat you always as a sovereign. 
 Nothing, in my opinion, can unmake the kings made 
 by Napoleon. No mortal hand can remove the august 
 mark which that great man has set upon your brow. 
 I was deeply touched by the sympathy Your INIajesty 
 showed me on the occasion of my lawsuit about Le 
 vol s^amiise. You love liberty. Sire ; therefore Hberty 
 loves you. Permit me to inclose with this letter a copy 
 of the speech I delivered at the tribunal of commerce. 
 I am very anxious you should read a correct report of 
 it, instead of the inaccurate one in the newspapers. I 
 should be very glad, Sire, to go to London and press 
 that royal hand which has so often pressed my father's. 
 M. Presles will explain to Your Majesty the obstacles 
 which at this moment prevent me from realizing such 
 a cherished wish ; they must be of an insurmountable 
 nature to stop me. M. Presles \^411 tell you something 
 of what I should say to you. Sire, were I fortunate 
 enough to see you. I should have many and varied 
 things to say to you. It is impossible that your family 
 
TO VICTOR PA VIE. 165 
 
 should be without a future, however great the loss of 
 last year.^ The name you bear is the greatest in his- 
 tory. True, we are tending rather to a republic than 
 to a monarchy; but to a philosopher like you, the 
 external form of government matters little. You have 
 proved, Sire, that you could be a citizen of a republic 
 with dignity. Farewell, Sire ; the day when I shall be 
 permitted to press your hand in both of mine will be 
 one of the happiest of my life. In the meanwhile, 
 your letters make me a proud and happy man. 
 
 V. H. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 To JousLiN DE LA Salle, Roijal Commissioner at the Thedtre 
 
 Frangais. 
 
 21st March, 1833. 
 
 Sir, — Allow me to introduce and recommend M. 
 Esquiros to you, the young author of a tragedy called 
 James Douglas. The Thedtre Frangais appears to me 
 to be especially instituted for the encouragement of 
 young authors in the paths of poetry and art. M. 
 Esquiros is one of those who deserve to have the way 
 made smooth for them. I shall be glad to hear, sir, 
 that he has met with a favorable reception from you. 
 
 Pray accept the assurance of my distinguished 
 consideration. Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 To Victor Pa vie. 
 
 Paris, Zlst March, 1833. 
 I have been intending to write to you for ages, my 
 friend. It is true that with you, whom I love best, I 
 
 ^ The death of the Iloi cle Rome. 
 
166 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 appear to be forgetful^ careless, absent, absorbed in my 
 own affairs, and yet I assure you nothing is further 
 from the truth. For the true friends that I know I 
 possess — and you are one of the best and the dearest 
 — I have always a profound thought, unceasing, tender, 
 and melancholy, in which I indulge in my hours of 
 leisure and reverie. Thinking of an absent friend is 
 one of the most solemn and most tranquillizing pleasures 
 of life. I do not write often because I am lazy and 
 almost blind; and then you see, Pavie, in friendsliip, 
 as in art, as in everything else, it often happens that 
 writing spoils one's thought. 
 
 You, whose existence is not torn from its moornigs 
 by a continual whirlwind ; you, who live at Angers and 
 not in Paris; you, who have no public life which is 
 constantly upsetting your private life, — you ought to 
 write to me often, my friend, and relate to me the 
 history of your thought and mind in long letters. It 
 would be kind of you to do it ; the contemplation of 
 your peace and happiness would be a rest to me. 
 
 By the way, there was a very remarkable article the 
 other day in your FeuiUeton cV Angers, only much too 
 favorable to me, sijrned E. R. Do you know the author 
 of it ? Thank him for me. If I knew where to write^ 
 I should like to do it myself. 
 
 Write to me fully, my dear Pavie. Tell me about 
 yourself, your good father, your brother, if you have 
 any news of him. Tell me how life has gone with you. 
 
 When are you coming to Paris ? 
 
 I love and embrace you. Victor H. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTHST. 167 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 To M. Haeel, Manager of the Forte Saint-Martin Theatre. 
 
 \8t May, 7 a. m., [1833]. 
 
 Sir, — On returning home yesterday at midnight I 
 expected to find a reply from you to my last letter. I 
 asked my wife if any letter had come for me ; from the 
 confused manner in which she answered in the negative, 
 I presumed that a letter had really come from you, that 
 she had opened it, and was keeping it back from me. I 
 concluded from this that the letter probably contained 
 a decisive reply about the matter we have in hand, and 
 of which my wife unfortunately has some suspicions. I 
 fear that you may have appointed in this letter some 
 time to-day for our meeting. As I am anxious not to 
 miss a rendezvous of this kind, I lose no time in inform- 
 ing you that I will be at your house this morning at 
 nine o'clock precisely, to settle the place, the time, and 
 the weapons. 
 
 Accept, sir, the assurance of my distinguished con- 
 sideration. V. H. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 IM July, 1833. 
 
 Mademoiselle, — Here is a letter from Poupee^ 
 which is more like a cat's than a doll's. You will excuse 
 her when I tell you that she wrote it in bed, where she 
 has been laid up for the last few days with a feverish 
 attack. It is this slight illness which has prevented 
 Poupee and me from giving you news of the Place 
 Royale before. 
 
 ^ Ldopoldine Hugo. 
 
168 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I inclose the few lines which you asked me for. I 
 hope you have not been inconvenienced for the want 
 of them. 
 
 I am still over head and ears in work, spurred on by 
 Renduel on the one side and Harel on the other, who 
 are certainly the most tiresome men of business in exist- 
 ence. I told Harel he could not have my play before 
 the 1st of September, and in spite of his lamentations, 
 incantations, and groans, I stuck to it. May Saint 
 George and Saint Martin help him ! 
 
 To-day is Sunday, and a glorious day at Les Roches. 
 You cannot imagine how charming and desirable your 
 life in the country, with its poetry and music, appears 
 to us poor workers of the Quartier Saint-Antoine, con- 
 demned to turn the wheel which shoots money into the 
 pocket of a publisher and impresario, and not into our 
 own. 
 
 Your trees are splendid, I warrant ; your valley is 
 admu'able ; your piano is full of poetry and harmony. 
 You are still in the attractive stance of the work which 
 we are doing together ; but when you get to the theatre 
 and the green-room, you will tell me what you think of 
 my present life as compared with yours. When you 
 have got as far as Veron, you shall give me your opin- 
 ion of Harel. 
 
 Farewell, mademoiselle. Victor H. 
 
TO VICTOR PAVIE. 1G9 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 To Victor Pavle. 
 
 Paris, 2m July, [1833]. 
 
 No one understands me then, — not even you, Pavie, 
 whom I, however, understand so well, you whose mind 
 is so lofty and indulgent ! This is a blow to me ! 
 
 Six weeks ago I published an article in VEuroj^e 
 Utteraire. Read the paragraph ending with Deus cen- 
 trum et locus i^erumj and you will see my ideas. Think 
 over them in the meaning I give to them. I believe it 
 will modify your present opinion of me. 
 
 The theatre is a kind of temple, humanity is a sort 
 of religion. Meditate on this, Pavie ; it is a piece of 
 great impiety or great piety : /believe I am accomplish- 
 ing a mission. 
 
 I have never committed more faults than during this 
 year, and yet I have never been a better man. I am 
 worth far more now than in the days of my innocence, 
 which you regret. Formerly I was innocent ; now I 
 can make allowances for others. God knows, this is a 
 great step in advance. 
 
 I have a dear, kind friend at my side, the angel who 
 knows it too, whom you venerate as I do, and who 
 forofives and loves me. To love and foroive is not 
 an attribute of man, but of God and woman. 
 
 You are indeed right in saying that you are my 
 friend. To whom else would I write like this ? 
 
 There ! I see my future course clearly before me, 
 and I walk in faith, my eyes fixed on the goal. I may 
 fall on the road, but I shall fall forwards. When I 
 have finished my life and my work, all — faults and 
 
170 THE LETTERS OF YICTOR HUGO. 
 
 defects, will and fatality, good and evil — will be 
 judged. 
 
 Go on loving me ; I embrace you. V. H. 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 To David d'Axgers. 
 
 Paris, Zd August, 1833. 
 
 I have just come back from the country, my dear 
 David, and find all the bronze treasures you have sent 
 me. It is just like you. Always the great artist and 
 the kind friend ! 
 
 Three weeks ago I wrote a short article in VEuroj)e 
 litter aire on your affair with Thiers. I ordered it to 
 be sent to you. Has this been done ? 
 
 Yours sincerely, Victor Hugo. 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 To Alexandre Dumas. 
 
 2d November, [1833]. 
 
 There is still more to be said against me, my dear 
 Dumas, than you can conjectui-e or imagine. The 
 author of the article is one of my friends ; it was I who 
 helped to get him on the staff of the Dthats. The 
 article was shown me by M. Bertin the elder at Les 
 Roches six weeks ago. This is the evidence against 
 me. I do not propose to tell you the evidence in my 
 favor ; I want you to do for me what I did for you only 
 a day or two ago, that is, to imagine or conjecture it. 
 
 Do not forget, however, that you would be the most 
 unjust and ungrateful of men if you thought for a 
 moment that I have not behaved to you like a good 
 and true friend in this matter. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTHST. 171 
 
 I do not write more about it, because on this occasion 
 it is not I who owe you an explanation, but you who 
 owe me thanks. 
 
 But I will tell you all about it, when you come to 
 see me; ten minutes' talk will explain matters better 
 than ten letters. 
 
 Do not believe of me what I would not believe of 
 you. Victor Hugo. 
 
 P. S. — I am keeping two stalls for you for the 
 first performance of Marie Tudor. Do you want any 
 more ? 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Berttn". 
 
 bth December, 1833. 
 
 Here is Quasimodo's song, mademoiselle. I have 
 made it as cheerful as I could, but it seems to me 
 impossible for it to be altogether playful. 
 
 But you will decide. Your musical perception must, 
 after all, be paramount, and my rhymes are the most 
 humble servants of your notes. 
 
 You will see, too, that I have scrupulously followed 
 your injunctions. It is always a great pleasure to me 
 to supply a subject for your imagination, a framework 
 for your edifice, and a canvas for your embroidery. 
 Here is a piece of coarse cloth; cover it with gold 
 arabesques ; that is your business. I am more than 
 ever your most affectionate and devoted friend, 
 
 Victor H. 
 
172 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 To MoxsEiGXEUR LE Duc d'Orleans. 
 
 [18^4.] 
 
 Your Eoyal Highness, — Will Your Eoyal High- 
 ness entertain the request of one stranger for another? 
 I hardly dare to hope it ; but I shall feel I have satisfied 
 my conscience in making the attempt. 
 
 Here is a letter I have just received. It comes with 
 a number of others applying for help to me, a poor 
 useless poet. This one touched and interested me more 
 than all. I do not know the writer. But if the facts 
 are true (and the genuine tone of the letter incHnes me 
 to believe it), they are deserving of attention. It is a 
 father who is pleading for his son, an okl professor 
 pleading for his books. I send this letter on to Your 
 Royal Highness. 
 
 Pardon me the liberty I am taking. We live in 
 times when every one pubUshes his ambition, and so 
 I make known mine. It is confined to tryinix to do 
 a little good, in an obscure and humble fashion, and 
 to help those who can do it with power and effect. 
 Doing good commends itself to your generous heart ; 
 it is always within the reach of your large fortune. 
 You belong to the category of those who are both 
 willing and able. It is perfectly natural to apply to 
 you. 
 
TO THE MINISTER OF THE INTERIOR. 173 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 To MONSEIGNEUR LE DuC d'OrlE^I^S. 
 
 [1834.] 
 
 Your Royal Highness, — I have carried out Your 
 Royal Highness's charitable intentions. Allow me to 
 forward the receipt of the poor old man whom you have 
 deigned to help. He begs me to express his unbounded 
 gratitude to Your Royal Highness. Mine is equally 
 deep. The ready grace with which Your Royal High- 
 ness received my humble recommendation went to my 
 heart. I shall not forget it. 
 
 After having carried the boon to the suppliant, I 
 am now the bearer of his gratitude to the benefactor. 
 This part has a great attraction for me. A mere on- 
 looker in this affair, I have been able to see with what 
 grace Your Royal Highness practices the humblest, as 
 it is the greatest, of all virtues — charity. To-day Your 
 Royal Highness reaps the fruits of your good action 
 in the devotion of a man in distress. You are happy ; 
 he is grateful. And I participate in both feelings alike. 
 I am not less happy than you, nor less grateful than he. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 To M. Thiers, Minister of the Interior. 
 
 Paris, loth June, 1834. 
 
 Monsieur le Ministre, — At this moment there 
 is a woman in Paris who is dying of hunger. 
 
 Her name is Mile. Mercoeur. She has published 
 several volumes of poems ; this is not the place to speak 
 of their merit, and besides, I do not feel qualified to do 
 so ; but her name is doubtless known to you. 
 
174 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Five years ago, under the Ministry of M. de Martignac, 
 a literary pension of 1200 francs was granted to her, 
 which has been reduced to 900 francs since 1830. 
 
 Her mother lives with her, and they have nothing 
 but this pension to Hve on in Paris. They are both 
 literally dying of hunger. You can order an inquiry 
 to be made. 
 
 In 1823 King Louis XVIII. spontaneously assigned 
 me a pension or annual allowance of 2000 francs on the 
 funds of the Ministry of the Interior. In 1832 I gave 
 up this pension of my own free will. At that time 
 your predecessor, M. d'Argout, informed me that he 
 did not accept my surrender of it, that he would con- 
 tinue to consider the money as mine, and that he would 
 not dispose of it in favor of any one. As my renuncia- 
 tion was absolute and final, it Avas no business of mine 
 to see what the Minister would do with the pension. 
 
 To-day, while admitting that I have no claim what- 
 ever on this pension, I request you, in case tlie Minister 
 should have persisted in his resolve, and should not have 
 disposed of the fund to any one else, to transfer it to 
 Mile. Mercoeur. If you consent to this, I shall feel 
 doubly pleased at having given it up. This pension 
 will be far better bestowed on Mile. JMercceur than on 
 me. The sum of 1200 francs, added to what ]\Ille. 
 Mercoeur already receives, will almost enable her to live 
 with her mother. Give it to her. Monsieur le Ministre ; 
 it will be an act of charity. We shall both be glad ; 
 you for having done it, and I for having ad\dsed it. 
 
 Accept, Monsieur le Ministre, the assurance of my 
 distinguished consideration. Victor Hugo. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 175 
 
 xc. 
 
 To Charles Nodier.^ 
 
 [1834.] 
 
 If I were not buried in the depths of a theatre, 
 how I should like, my dear Charles, to go and shake 
 you by the hand, and throw my cloak at your feet and 
 shout Hosannah with the rest. A glory has entered 
 the Academy, which is a rare event ! And so we are 
 applauding the Academy, which is not less rare ! 
 
 I am really delighted to see you there. I am very 
 fond of you, believe me. Victor. 
 
 xci. 
 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 Tuesda?j morning, 22c? May, 1835. 
 
 Mademoiselle, — Although Poupee had undertaken 
 to give you news of us all, allow me to add a word or 
 two to her letter. My wife proposes dining with you at 
 Les Roches on Thursday evening at six o'clock. I will 
 come and fetch her the next day (Friday), and bring 
 her back to Paris in the evening. Didine will accom- 
 pany her, and I am thinking of bringing Boulanger 
 with me, if your good father will have us both. I will 
 bring you what you asked me for for our night scene. 
 
 We are greatly looking forward to this excursion to 
 Les Roches, to spending a day in the hospitable house 
 in which we have passed so many happy weeks. I hope 
 you will not refuse to sing us something out of JVotre- 
 Dame. I, in particular, whose days fly by in unremit- 
 ting toil, shall greatly need a little of your greenery, 
 
 ^ After liis election to the Academy. 
 
176 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 and a great deal of your music, to rest my eyes and my 
 mind. 
 
 Talking of music, I am having lessons on the piano 
 from Listz and Didine. I am beginning to play Jamais 
 dans les beaux lieiix satisfactorily with one finger. 
 
 I cannot think why Poupee has not told you of this 
 great event in her letter. 
 
 Forgive me, mademoiselle, for telling you of these 
 trifles. If I did not know that you are very busy, and 
 if I were not afraid that you would think yourself 
 under an obligation to answer my letters, I would write 
 to you occasionally. You told me one day you liked 
 getting all hinds of letters. I will write you some ; 
 this is one of them. 
 
 When I wish to recall happy and well-spent days 
 among the happiest and best spent in my life, I go into 
 the drawing-room and meditate for a few moments in 
 front of the little card carriajje we made toirether. It 
 is our masterpiece, till Notre-Dame appears. 
 
 Farewell, Mademoiselle Louise ; we shall meet on 
 Friday. Tell your kind father that I am devoted to 
 him and to you, and pray accept with your usual kind- 
 ness the respectful affection of your slcjnor 2^oeta. 
 
 Victor H. 
 
 XCII. 
 To Mlle. Louise Bertin. 
 
 Paris, l^th October, 1831. 
 
 You wrote a very charming letter to my wife, 
 mademoiselle, in which I shared. It is very nice of 
 you to have liked those lines. That was all I wished 
 for them. There is so much true and grand poetry in 
 you that all that comes from us must seem poor to you. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 177 
 
 Here I am finishing the vohime/ part of which grew 
 amono' the flowers at Les Roches and the rest in the 
 crannies of the pavements of Paris. Hence this 
 volume presents two aspects : one poetic, which comes 
 from your garden ; and the other poHtical, which comes 
 from what is trodden on by everybody. 
 
 Be indulgent and kind to the whole. We often talk 
 of you here, in our evenings, which are already grow- 
 ing long, — of you, of Edward, and your good and 
 venerated parents. And as soon as the name Louise is 
 mentioned, one is sure to see four little heads turn 
 round. The dear little souls are very fond of you, and 
 if it were not part of their happiness, I, who am of a 
 jealous nature, should feel quite jealous. 
 
 We shall meet soon, mademoiselle ; talk of us some- 
 times under the falling leaves of your fine trees. 
 
 We love you with unfading affection. I add to it 
 my deep and sincere devotion. 
 
 Your respectful friend, Victor H. 
 
 ^ Les voix interieures. 
 
 Note. — A few letters wliicli belong in this division were received too 
 late for the editor to include them here. They will be found in the 
 Appendix. 
 
 VOL. I. 12 
 
IV. TO CHARLES AUGUSTIN SAINTE-BEUVE. 
 
 I. 
 
 To M. Sainte-Beuve, 94 Rue de Vaugirard. 
 
 Thursday, 8th February, [1827]. 
 
 I READ Monsieur de Sainte-Beuve some lines of my 
 Cromwell the other morning. If he is inclined to hear 
 any more of it, he has only to come on Monday even- 
 ing, before eight o'clock, to my father-in-law's house, 
 Rue du Cherche-Midi. Every one will be delighted 
 to see him, myself especially. He is one of those 
 listeners whom I should always choose, because I like 
 to hear them talk. 
 
 His most devoted Victor Hugo. 
 
 A Hne in reply, please. 
 
 II. 
 
 Saturday, [Middle of February, 1827]. ^ 
 
 Come at once, dear sir, and let me thank you for 
 the beautiful lines which you have allowed me to see. 
 I want to tell you, besides, that I guessed you were a 
 poet ; not so much, perhaps, from your articles, which 
 are so remarkable, as from your conversation and your 
 expression. So you must pardon me for being some- 
 what proud of my penetration, and let me congratulate 
 myself on having instinctively divined a gift of so high 
 
 ^ Note by Sainte-Beuve : " After first seeing my verses." 
 
180 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 an order. Pray come, I have so much to say to you, 
 or let me know where I could meet you. 
 
 Your friend, V. H. 
 
 III. 
 
 To M. Sainte-Beuve {very urgent). 
 
 Wednesday evening, [1828]. 
 
 Here, dear friend, is a letter I have just received 
 from the Album, If you still have the same views 
 with reo-ard to the Globe, you can send direct to M. 
 Folleville, whose address is on the letter. They are 
 and will be dehghted. 
 
 My warmest thanks, il viiestro hermano, 
 
 Victor. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To M. Saixte-Beuve, Tuhneij Lodge, near Oxford, England. 
 
 Paris, 11th September, 1828.1 
 
 Your two letters, my dear friend, were a great pleas- 
 ure to me. I own I had fallen into the pleasant habit 
 of seeing you often, of exchanging ideas with you, of 
 occasionally meditating on the harmony of your poetry ; 
 your absence caused a great blank in my life. It made 
 the street of Notre-Dame-des-Champs seem almost empty 
 to me. Your two letters, so kind and so charming, have 
 brought us back something of your lively and elevated 
 conversation, of the poetry of your heart and mind. 
 
 I cannot tell you with what eager curiosity I followed 
 you on your journey. Every detail in your letters was 
 most interestino^ to me. I could see the bas-reliefs 
 standing out and the Gothic windows gleaming in the 
 fine churches you have visited, lucky man that you are ! 
 
 1 Note by Sainte-Beuve : " During my stay in England." 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 181 
 
 While you are thus rushmg from one new sensation 
 to another, one day is like another for us. You know 
 our mode of life ; only we have been deprived of our 
 sunsets for some time. The sun sets now at dinner- 
 time, and I am sorry for this. It is the first thing 
 which the approach of winter steals away from me. 
 
 I wish I could send you some news from here, but 
 you know what a solitary Hfe I lead. I know that 
 Ancelot has just had his play Olga performed, and the 
 Globe speaks well of it. There has also been a stupid 
 
 article in the Globe by M. C E, on your fine 
 
 work. On the other hand, the Provincial has said 
 some rather pleasant things about you, which I am 
 keeping for your return. 
 
 We have talked a great deal about you with all our 
 friends. Your ears must have tingled. Not a line has 
 been heard in my hermit's cell but has made me long 
 for your poetry. I hope you will bring us some from 
 England to console us for this long privation. 
 
 I told your mother yesterday that you w^ould soon 
 be back. She begged me to tell you that she was 
 quite well, and was longing to embrace you. Not more 
 so than we are, I '11 be bound, although she is your 
 mother. 
 
 I will not say good-by, dear friend : come back to 
 us soon. I advise you to see Canterbury ; the Cathe- 
 dral will charm you and rouse your enthusiasm. I am 
 distressed at what you say about the restorations at 
 Westminster. The En owlish have a mania for combin- 
 ing the fashionable with Gothic. 
 
 We shall soon meet. We all send our kind love to 
 you. ViCTOii. 
 
182 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 M. Leprevost, who will be delighted to see you, lives 
 in the Rue Fontenelle at Rouen. We are expecting 
 Lamartine here. Paul Boulanger, the two Deverias, 
 David (who is not going to London), send you their 
 love and thanks. 
 
 V. 
 
 Sunday (midnigJit), [1829].^ 
 
 When I came in, dear friend, I found your valuable 
 manuscript. I have just read it ; and I write this, not 
 to tell you my f eehngs on reading it, — words could 
 hardly do that, — but to put on paper a few of the 
 impressions made on me by your serious and beautiful 
 lines, your masculine, simple, and pathetic prose, and 
 your character of Joseph Delorme, who is yourself. 
 The short and stern story, the analysis of a young life, 
 the masterly dissection which lays bare a soul, are all 
 admirable, and almost moved me to tears. What a 
 splendid contribution to art ! 
 
 I shall try to go and see you to-morrow. 
 
 Your brother, Victor. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To M. Saixte-Beuve, Foste Restante, Reims. 
 
 Paris, 2c? November, 1829.2 
 
 Your truly kind letter of the 25 th has arrived, dear 
 friend, and has given us much pleasure and much pain. 
 So neither you nor Boulanger have received the letters 
 my wife addressed to you, poste restante, at Strasburg ? 
 
 1 Note hy Sainte-Beuve : " After sending him the manuscript of Vie de 
 Joseph Delorme." 
 
 ^ Note by Sainte-Beuve : " During my journey on the Rhine, while I was 
 writing Consolations." 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 183 
 
 There is a fatality in all this. Hardly had you both 
 started when that wretched internal inflammation which 
 you know I suffer from begins, ascends into my head, 
 and settles in my eyes. So there I am, blind ; shut up 
 for whole days in my study, with blinds down, shutters 
 fastened, doors closed, unable to work or read or wTite, 
 and having neither of you with me — lumen ademptum. 
 On the top of all this your first letter (from Dijon) 
 arrives, then one from Boulanger, five minutes after. 
 Imagine my delight ! My wife reads and re-reads them 
 both to me. You neither of you told us where to WTite 
 to you. We wait for the next letters ; they reach us 
 (from Besangon). I was still unable to use my eyes. 
 You told us to reply to Strasburg. My wdfe undertook 
 this, almost glad that the state of my eyes gave her 
 the privilege of writing to you. The two letters, each 
 of four pages, composed by us both, — partly dictated 
 by me, partly arranged by her, — the tw^o letters, full of 
 our affection and our grief, hnploring you to return, go 
 off addressed " Strasburg, j^oste restante ; " this address 
 was written very legibly, and you do not receive them ! 
 And yet neither Latouche nor Janin are postmen ! 
 What must you have thought, dear friend ! What an 
 impression this silence must have made on you, after 
 letters like yours ! You probably made allowance for 
 my laziness, my engagements, etc. As if laziness or 
 business could interfere with writing to you ! It must 
 have annoyed you a good deal ; perhaps I am mistaken, 
 but it seems to me that your third letter (from Worms), 
 kind, good, and perfect as it is, is colder than the other 
 two. I cannot tell you, dear friend, how the idea of 
 this worries me, and how I long for this letter to be at 
 
184 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Reims, and you too. So you have heard nothing of our 
 ideas or of our grief during your journey ! You have 
 not known how your absence has filled all our thoughts 
 here, how much we have talked of you, thought of you, 
 that there have been no enjoyable evenings in Rue 
 Notre-Dame-des-Champs since you left, no chats on the 
 sofa or at the fireside, that we have missed you in every- 
 thing. And you were ignorant of all this, you my two 
 dearest friends ! And if you did guess something of 
 it, the ridiculous break in our correspondence at Stras- 
 burg intervened to put your affection at fault, and 
 make you doubt mine. Is not this trying? So now 
 make haste to get to Reims and read what I am now 
 writino; ! 
 
 However, you have brought me good luck again. 
 My sight came back to me with your third letter. It is 
 the first thing I have read since your departure; and 
 this letter, with one to Boulanger, is the first thing 
 I have written. I only wish it were less dull. Yours 
 delight us, and we read them over and over again. 
 They are a charming diary of your travels, combined 
 with kind and affectionate thoucrhts of us. 
 
 Alas ! my good friend, with the exception of your 
 letters, nothing pleasant whatever has come to me from 
 outside for the last three weeks. The outlook is gloomy 
 in every direction. It is as if our early days of struggle 
 and strife had come back. Those wretches Janin and 
 Latouche are posted in every newspaper, and from this 
 vantage pour out theh envy, their rage, and their 
 hatred. They caused a fatal desertion from our ranks 
 at the critical moment. The old school, which was 
 almost extinct, has resumed the offensive. A terrible 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 185 
 
 storm is gathering" over my head, and the hatred of 
 these low journaHsts has reached such a point that they 
 no longer give me credit for anything. In spite of this, 
 Othello has heen a success, though not a tremendous 
 one, hut as great as could he expected, and thanks to 
 our efforts. My behavior on this occasion has quite 
 brought Alfred de Vigny and the Shakespearians back 
 to our side ; that is one good thing, at any rate, but 
 a double cabal is being formed against me in the 
 newspaper dens and green-room lairs, and Othello is 
 only whetting their appetite for Heiiiani, That is 
 the position of affairs. It is very sad, as you perceive. 
 One must pay dearly for success. But make haste 
 and come, and then I shall forget it, for a few days at 
 least. 
 
 Show this letter to our friend Boulanger, who will 
 show you his ; for all that is in me and everything that 
 comes from me is as much for one as for the other. 
 
 Victor. 
 
 My wife sends you many kind messages, and wants 
 you to return at once. Kindest regards to our dear, 
 good Robelin. All our friends send their love to you, 
 and are always talking of you, — not as much as I do, 
 thouo:h. 
 
 VIT. 
 
 11th March, [1830]. 
 
 We are at the Odeon, dear friend. You have a free 
 pass ; it would be most charming of you to come and 
 join us there. 
 
 Yours with all my heart, Victor. 
 
186 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To M. Saixte-Beuve, c/o M. Ulrich Guttixguer, Rue Fon- 
 
 tenelle, Rouen, 
 
 Paris, Sunday, 16th May, 1830. 
 
 You know how lazy I am, my friend ; but it appears 
 to me that you do not know what a good friend I can 
 be, since you suppose that I shall accept your dlsjjensci' 
 tion from writing. The only reason I know of which 
 could induce me not to write to you, would be the 
 thought that the being deprived of my letters would 
 tend to shorten your absence, and bring you back a 
 few days sooner. But Guttinguer is with you, and 
 such delightful companionship must fill all the blanks 
 in your heart — fortunately for you, unfortunately 
 for me. 
 
 If you only knew how much we have missed you of 
 late ! How sad and empty it seemed to us, even amid 
 our family life, even with our children around us, to 
 move into this deserted town of Frangois I. without 
 you ! How at every moment we missed your advice, 
 your help, your attentions, and, in the evenings, your 
 conversation and always your affection ! There is no 
 doubt about it. The habit has become a rooted one. 
 You will never again, I hope, be so unkind as to leave 
 us, to desert us in this manner. This is an ordeal 
 which, at all events, will be so far useful as to prevent 
 you from essaying another, and Normandy will protect 
 us from Greece. 
 
 However, we are well off here so far as material com- 
 fort goes, really perfectly so. We have trees, plenty 
 of air, a lawn under our windows, some big children in 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 187 
 
 the house to play with our little ones ; M. de Morte- 
 mart, who is very amiable, and overwhelms us with 
 newspapers and kind attentions ; plenty of solitude, no 
 more Ilerjicmistes, — in fact, we should be quite happy 
 were it not for the two empty rooms, which make all 
 the rest of the house seem deserted to us. 
 
 I am even writing poetry. And apropos of this, 
 your last letter disappointed me. Boulanger left for 
 Rouen a few days ago. I thought he had seen you 
 there ; on the strength of which, behold me seated 
 under the big trees in the Champs Elysees, writing line 
 after line to Sainte-Beuve and to Boulanger, 7ny artist 
 and my poet, both absent, both at Rouen ; and then 
 comes a letter from you without a word about Boulan- 
 ger, and so completely upsetting my two elegies ! Fancy 
 that. 
 
 Farewell, my friend. We all send our love to you, 
 and I embrace you for them all. But do come back 
 soon. All this is for our friend Giittinguer as well. 
 You have read Nisard's charming article. I wrote to 
 him for you. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To M. Sainte-Beuve, 19 Eue Notre-Dame'des-Champs. 
 
 Friday evening, \_^th June, 1830]. 
 
 We were at home, dear friend ! Fancy our annoy- 
 ance ! Our porters are stupid ! Never heed Avhat they 
 say, but always come upstairs. On Sunday then ? with- 
 out fail ! You oufi^ht to come to dinner with us. 
 
 Victor. 
 
188 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 X. 
 
 To M. Sainte-Beuve, c/o M. Ulrich Guttinguer, Rouen. 
 
 5th August, [1830]. i 
 
 I am writing these few lines in a great hurry, my 
 dear friend. We are quiet now. The popuhition of 
 Paris behaved admirably, both during the struggle and 
 after the victory. Let us hope that all will go on well. 
 
 I am going on duty in the National Guard. I love 
 you more than I can say. Victor. 
 
 My love to Giittinguer. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To M. Sainte-Beuve, 19 Etie Notre-Dame-des-Champs. 
 
 Thursday, [4.th November, 1830]. 
 
 I have just read the article you have written on your- 
 self, and it moved me to tears. For Heaven's sake, I 
 implore you, my friend, do not give way in this manner. 
 Think of the friends you have — of one especially, who 
 is now writing to you. You know what you are to 
 him, what an opinion he has of your past and of your 
 future. You know that if your happiness is poisoned, 
 his must be so too ; because it is necessary for him to 
 know that you are happy. Do not lose heart, then. 
 Do not despise what makes you great : your genius, 
 your life, your virtue. Remember that you belong to 
 us, and that there are two persons here whose continual 
 and favorite subject of conversation is yourself. 
 
 Your best friend, V. 
 
 Come and see us. 
 
 1 Note by Sainte-Beuve : "Revolution of July." 
 
TO SAIXTE-BEUYE. 189 
 
 XII. 
 
 8th December, [1830]. 
 
 Can you believe that I speak of you iclth levity ? I 
 may have said that you were changeable in your opinions 
 on art and such Hke trifling matters^ but not in your 
 affections. Do not let us bury our friendship in 
 oblivion ; let us keep it pure and sacred, as we have 
 always done. Let us make allowances for each other, 
 my friend. I have my trials, you have yours ; the 
 pain caused by the shock will pass away. Time will 
 heal everything ; let us hope that some day all this will 
 only make us love each other better. My wife has read 
 your letter. Come and see me often, and go on writing 
 to me. 
 
 Remember that after all you have no better friend 
 than I. y. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 2m December, [1830]. 
 
 You do well to write to me, my friend ; you do well, 
 for the sake of all of us. My Avife and I read your 
 letters together, and we speak of you with deep affec- 
 tion. The days you remind me of are very dear to me. 
 Do you think they will never return ? / hope they 
 will. There ! it will always be a pleasure to me to see 
 you, a pleasure to write to you. There are only two or 
 three things really worth having in life, and friendship 
 is one of them. But let us write to each other, and 
 often. Our hearts are still keeping up their intercourse. 
 There is no breach between us. Victor. 
 
190 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 1st January, 1831. 
 
 Good-morning, Sainte-Beuve. Thank you very much 
 for the beautiful doll. Charles is also very pleased, and 
 we will give you a good hug when you come to see papa 
 and mamma. My httle sister is very pleased too. 
 
 Your little friend, Didine.^ 
 
 XV. 
 
 2c? January, 1831. 
 
 You have been very kind, my friend, to my little 
 ones. We want to thank you for it, both my wife and 
 I. So will you come to dinner with us to-morrow, 
 Tuesday ? 1830 is passed and gone ! 
 
 Your friend, Victor. 
 
 Did you get Didine's letter ? 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Wi March, [1831]. 
 
 I have not seen you for ages, dear friend, and I am 
 always thinking and talking of you. I will send you 
 Notre-Dame de Paris one of these days. Do not be 
 too hard on it. In the meanwhile, allow me to intro- 
 duce M. Buloz to you, editor of the Revue des Deux 
 Mondes, a periodical which is in course of regeneration, 
 and which would be very considerably rejuvenated if 
 
 ^ Le 1st Janvier, 1831. 
 Bon jour, Sainte-Beuve, je te remereie bien ta belle poupde. Charles 
 est bien content aussi et nous tanbrasseron bien quand tu viendra voir papa 
 et maman ma petite soeure est bien contente aussi. 
 
 Ta petite ami, Didene. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 191 
 
 you Tvere to lend it your assistance. M. Buloz, whom I 
 think you will like very much, is most anxious to talk 
 this matter over with you. 
 Pray do all you can for him. 
 
 Your constant friend, V. H. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 [Sunday, 13th March, 1831]. 
 
 I did not see you last night, my friend, and I was 
 really sorry for it. I have so much to say to you, so 
 much to tell you about the pain you are giving me, 
 so many heartfelt requests to make to you, my friend, 
 for your own sake, Sainte-Beuve, whom I love more 
 than myself. I want so much to hear you say that you 
 love me still, to be able to believe it, that I must go 
 and see you some of these days, and have a long, unre- 
 served, and affectionate talk with you about all this. 
 Does it not sometimes strike you that you may be 
 wrong, my friend ? Oh ! I implore you, do get this 
 idea into your head ; it is, perhaps, the only remaining 
 hold I have over you. We will talk about it, will we 
 not? 
 
 Now to unimportant matters. 
 
 Will you take JVotre-Dame de Paris in hand? Do 
 you still think you need not cut it up too much ; for if 
 it is to be cut up, I had rather this was not done by you. 
 If so, put a short paragraph in the Glohe, to-morrow or 
 the next day, with a notice that the book will appear 
 on Wednesday. I have told Gosselin to send you one 
 of the first copies. You will read it, won't you ? And 
 then you will tell me quite frankly if you think you can 
 review it ; and one of these days I will go and write in 
 
192 THE LETTEES OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 your copy tliat I always am, have been, and shall be, 
 your best friend, V. H. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Friday, 18th March, 1831. 
 
 My Friend, — I did not wish to write to you with 
 the impression made by your letter fresh in my mind. 
 It was too sad and too bitter. I should have been unjust 
 in my turn. I wanted to wait for a few days. To-day, 
 at all events, I am calm, and I can read your letter again 
 without reopening too Tvddely the deep wound it gave 
 me. I must tell you, I did not think that what has 
 passed between us, lohat is knoion to us alone, could 
 ever be forgotten, especially by you, by the Sainte- 
 Beuve that I have known. Oh, yes! I say it with 
 greater sorrow for you than for myself, you are very 
 different from what you were. You must remember, 
 if your new friends have not made even the shadow of 
 your old ones fade from your mind, you must remember 
 what passed between us in the most painful moment 
 of my life, when I had to choose between her and 
 you; recollect what I said to you, what I proposed 
 to you, what I offered you with the firm resolution, 
 as you know, of keeping my promise, and doing what 
 you wished. Recollect all this, and then reflect that 
 you have just written to me that I showed a want of 
 openness, of confidence, and of sincerity towards you 
 in this matter. This is what you brought yourself to 
 write hardly three months afterwards. I forgive you 
 from this moment. Perhaps a day will come when 
 you will not forgive yourself for it. 
 
 Your friend still, in spite of yourself, V. H. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 193 
 
 XIX. 
 
 ^th April, [1831]. 
 
 It is I, my friend, who wish to go and see you, to 
 thank you, to shake hands with you. Your letter gave 
 me great and true pleasure. You see, my friend, at 
 least I feel it, that one cannot get rid of an old friend^ 
 ship like ours so easily. It would be a great misfortune 
 if we could survive the death of such a lar^re frao^ment 
 of ourselves. Victor Hugo. 
 
 You will come and dine with us one of these days, 
 won't you ? 
 
 XX. 
 
 Friday morning, 1st Juhj, 1831. 
 
 Dans un concours lieureux brillaient de toutes parts 
 Le sentiment, le cbarme et I'amour des beaux-arts. 
 Sur quarante mortels qui briguaient son sufPrage, 
 
 Est-ce pen qii'anx traits sdduisants 
 
 De votre muse de quinze ans 
 L'Acaddmie ait dit : Jeune homme, allons ! courasfc ? , . . 
 Tendre ami des neuf sceurs, mes bras vous sont ouverts ! 
 
 Venez, j'aime tou jours les vers ! 
 
 That is all I can rememher, my dear friend. It was 
 in 1817. Do wliat you like wdtli it. They are but 
 poor verses to be inserted in your fine prose, and it is 
 indeed good of you to give the luckless Francois de 
 Neuf'cliriteau sucli a settinir. 
 
 We are enjoying ourselves thorougldy liere ; so much 
 so tliat we liave no idea when we shall leave ; my wife 
 is dehglited, cheerful, interested, happy, and (piite well. 
 
 VOL. I. 13 
 
194 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 It is a charming kind of hospitality. Farewell ; the bell 
 is ringing for luncheon. Do not forget to write to me 
 from Liege. 
 
 Always sincerely yours, Victor. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 6th July, 1831. 
 
 What I have to write to you, dear friend, gives me 
 the greatest pain, but yet I must 'v\Tite it. Had you 
 gone to Liege I need not have done so, and that is 
 why I have seemed sometimes to desire a thing which at 
 any other time would have been a real misfortune to me, 
 namely, your absence. But since you are not going, 
 and I admit you may have good reasons for it, I must 
 make a clean breast of everything to you, my friend, 
 even should it be for the last time. I can no lonofer 
 bear a state of things which your remaining in Paris 
 would prolong indefinitely. 
 
 I do not know if you have come to the same mel- 
 ancholy conclusion as I have, but this three months' 
 attempt at a semi-intimacy, badly renewed and badly 
 patched up^ has not been a success. It is not, my 
 friend, our old irrecoverable friendship. When you 
 are not with me, I feel from the bottom of my heart 
 that I love you as much as ever ; but when you are, 
 I suffer tortures. We are no longer at ease with one 
 another, you see ! We are not the two brothers that 
 we were. I have lost you, and you have lost me : there 
 is something between us. It is terrible to feel this, 
 when we are together, in the same room, seated on the 
 same sofa, and can touch each other's hands. When 
 one is a couple of hundred miles off, one fancies it is 
 
TO SAIXTE-BEUVE. 195 
 
 the distance that causes the separation. That is why I 
 said to you — Go ! Don't you understand all this, 
 Sainte-Beuve ? What has become of our trust, our 
 mutual confidences, our freedom of coming and going, 
 our endless and unreserved talks ? They have all dis- 
 appeared. Everything is a torture to me now. Even 
 the obligation, imposed on me by a person whom I 
 cannot mention here, of being always present when 
 you are there, reminds me constantly and very painfully 
 that we are not the friends of old days. My poor 
 friend, there is an element of absence in your presence 
 which makes it even more unbearable than your real 
 absence. At all events, if you go, the blank will be 
 complete. 
 
 Let us give up seeing each other, then, for some 
 time to come, so as not to cease loving each other. Has 
 your wound healed ? I am sure I do not know. All I 
 do know is that mine has not. Every time I see you 
 it bleeds afresh. You must sometimes feel that I am 
 no longer the same. The reason is, that I suffer as you 
 do. This irritates me, in the first place, and especially 
 against myself ; then against you, my poor, dear friend; 
 and finally against another, whose wishes perhaps cor- 
 respond with those I express in this letter. In spite of 
 all I do, some traces of all this heart-ache vnll come 
 out ; and this makes us all miserable, — more so than 
 we were before we met ao^ain. 
 
 Let us give up seeing each other, then, for the pres- 
 ent, so as to meet again some day, as soon as possible, 
 and then not to part. The distance we live from each 
 other, the season of the year, our expeditions into the 
 country, that I am never to be found at home, will be 
 
196 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 sufficient reasons for the world. As for us, we shall 
 understand what it means. You and I will still love 
 each other ; we will write to each other, will we not ? 
 If we meet anywhere, it will be a pleasure to us ; we 
 shall shake hands with more affection and more ex- 
 pansiveness than here. What do you think of all this ? 
 Write me a few hues. 
 
 I close this letter here. Excuse all these incoherent 
 ideas. It has given me great pain to write this letter, 
 my friend. Burn it, that nobody may read it again, 
 not even yourself. 
 
 Farewell. 
 
 Your friend, your brother, Victor. 
 
 I have shown this letter to the only person who was 
 entitled to read it before you. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Itli July, 1831. 
 
 I have just received your letter, dear friend ; it breaks 
 my heart. You are quite right, your conduct has been 
 perfectly loyal, you have not injured any one either 
 consciously or unconsciously ... it is all my unhappy 
 imagination, my friend ! I love you now more than 
 ever. I hate myself, — it is no exaggeration to say I 
 hate myself for being so foolish and morbid. Should 
 the day come when my Hfe would be of service to you, 
 you should have it, and the sacrifice would be a slight 
 one, for, I say this to you only^ I am no longer happy. 
 I have acquired the conviction that it was possible for 
 the object of all my love to cease to love me. It is no 
 use my repeating to myself all that you say, and that 
 
TO SAIXTE-BEUVE. 197 
 
 the mere idea of such a thing is folly ; this one drop 
 of suspicion is enough to poison my whole life. Yes, 
 indeed you must pity me, for I am really unhappy. I 
 no Ion O'er know how I stand with the two heinirs whom 
 I love most on earth. You are one of them. Pity me, 
 love me, write to me. 
 
 For three months I had been suffering more than 
 ever. The sight of you every day, when I was in this 
 state, stirred up all these fatal ideas within me. I shall 
 never allow anything of this to appear to the outside 
 world ; you alone will know of it. You are still — you 
 agree to this, do you not ? — my first and best friend. 
 Yet you had never seen this aspect of my character. 
 How foolish I must seem to you ! and how I must 
 grieve you ! Write and tell me that you still love me. 
 It will do me good. And I shall look forward to the 
 happy day when we shall meet again. V. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 lOth July, 1831. 
 
 Your letter has done me good. Yes, indeed, you are 
 still my friend, and more so than ever. It is only a 
 kind and loving friend like you whose deHcate touch 
 can probe so deep and painf id a wound ! We will meet 
 now and ao;ain. We will dine together sometimes. It 
 will be a pleasure for me. In the mean time, my poor 
 friend, pray to God that I may recover my equanimity. 
 I am not accustomed to suffering ! V. 
 
 Write to me. Do not forsake me. 
 
198 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 21st [July, 1831]. 
 
 My eyes are so bad, clear friend, that I can hardly 
 see to write to you. I have just received your letter, 
 on my return from the country, where I had gone to 
 spend a few days, hoping to find something to divert 
 my thoughts, but without success there, as elsewhere. 
 I have but one thought, full of sadness, bitterness, and 
 uneasiness ; but I assure you, in reahty, full of tender- 
 ness for you. Here are the lines you ask me for. Do 
 just as you like with them. It is much too kind of you 
 to be still interested in me. I am still very proud of 
 it, and it touches me more than ever. But above all, 
 love me and pity me. 
 
 Your brother, Victor. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Friday evening, [oth August, 1831]. 
 
 Your letter moves me to tears, my friend. Yes, I 
 expect you. Here is a pass. Have you any friends of 
 the kind you know I need, A\dth the enemies I have ? I 
 will find places for them. Do you think that Lerminier, 
 Magnin, and Brizeux would like to hear Marion, and 
 will you undertake to tell them that I have seats at 
 their disposal ? Forgive me ; you see how I make use 
 of you : it is like old days again. 
 
 Yom- faithful friend, Victor. 
 
 The performance will take place on Thursday, and 
 the rehearsal on Wednesday. You will see " No per- 
 formance to-night " on the play-bill. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 199 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 11th May, [1832]. 
 
 I think, my clear friend, that you have seen Renduel, 
 and that he has told you what I asked him to do. Up 
 to the present I have been very cautious in offering your 
 article to the Dtbats, and have insisted on all the 
 privileges due to your abilities, and asked that the article 
 should be accepted on the strength of your name alone, 
 without being previously read. However, as M. Bertin 
 senior, who has, as you know, the very highest opinion 
 of your work and of yourself, expressed a wish to me yes- 
 terday to read your article, just to see that it did not 
 contain anything contrary to the poHtical opinions of the 
 paper, I do not think it would do to refuse him. I will 
 send it to him, then, if you have no objection. M. Bertin 
 is very strongly inclined to insert the article, and I am 
 sure it will be accepted. If not, I still count on your 
 good intentions Tvith regard to the National. I may 
 add here in confidence, that the wish to have you as 
 literary editor of the Dehats seems to me very strong, 
 and is shown in everything that is said to me. Keej) 
 this quite to yourself. What is your opinion? 
 
 Now, would it be possible to add a page to your 
 admirable article, it does not matter where, at the end, 
 for instance, about the edition itself, and the new 
 prefaces, especially that to the Dernier jour (run 
 condanine, which is of some length if not importance 
 and saying that when the new edition of Notre-Dar 
 de Paris appears, the paper will notice it again, as v 
 as the three new chapters, which are very long, an 
 which Louis XL figures? This is in the m: 
 
200 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 interest of the edition, as well as tliat of the publisher. 
 Forgive me ! If you agree, write and tell me if I must 
 return you the article, or if you can make the addition 
 without it, and send it me in time not to delay the dis- 
 patch of the whole to M. Bertin too much. 
 
 Once more forgive me, and a thousand thanks. V. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Ith June, 10 p. m., [1832]. 
 
 I have just come in, my dear friend, too late for the 
 rendezvous at the National ; but I join you with all my 
 heart. I will sign everything that you sign, in defiance 
 of the state of siege.^ 
 
 Your devoted friend, Victor. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 lltJi June, 1832. 
 
 I am quite as indignant as you are, my dear friend, 
 with these miserable political jugglers who put Article 
 14 up their sleeve, and keep the declaration of a state 
 of siege all the time in the false bottom of their con- 
 juring box ! 
 
 I only hope they will not have the hardihood to blow 
 out the brains of these hot-headed but generous young 
 fellows. If these would-be keepers of the peace were to 
 venture on a political execution, and four men of sj^irit 
 were to get up a riot to save the victuns, I would make 
 a fifth. 
 
 ^ After tlie events of June, 1832, in consequence of the insurrection, 
 's was placed in a state of siege ; there were fears at one time of a 
 linary reaction, and there was some talk of inserting a signed protest 
 National. (Sainte-Beuve, Portraits contemporains, 1870.) 
 
TO SAIXTE-BEUVE. 201 
 
 It is indeed a sad, Lut at the same time a fine subject 
 for a poem, all this folly steeped in hloodshed. We sliall 
 have a RepiibUc some day, and when it does come it will 
 be a good one. But we must not gather in May the 
 fruit which will not be ripe till August. We must know 
 how to wait. The Republic proclaimed by France in 
 Europe will be the crown of our old age. But we must 
 not let our flag be smeared with red by these black- 
 guards. For instance, a Frederic Soulie, wdio a year 
 ago was devoted to M. d' Argout's dramatic quasi-censor- 
 ship, must not be allowed to bawl out in the middle of 
 a cafe that he is going to make bullets. A Fontan 
 must not be permitted to announce in a pot-house that 
 by the end of the month four splendid guillotines will 
 be permanently set uj) in the four principal squares of 
 Paris. People of this kind throw back the political 
 ideas which, but for them, would make progress. They 
 frighten the honest tradesman, who is made savage 
 by reaction. They make a bugbear of the Republic. 
 Ninety-three is not much of a bait. We ought to talk 
 a little less of Robespierre and a little more of Wash- 
 ington. 
 
 Farewell. We shall meet soon, I hope. T am work- 
 ing hard just now. I approve of all you have done, 
 and only regret that the protest did not appear. At 
 any rate, my friend, keep my signature next to yours. 
 
 Your brother, Victor. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Les Roches, Friday, 2\st September, [1832]. 
 
 I am writing you a few linos In a great liurry, my 
 friend. Some one is just starting for Paris, and will 
 
202 THE LETTEKS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 deliver this letter to you. If a letter is posted at 
 Bievre, it takes three or four days to reach Paris. I 
 really believe it goes round by Marseilles. 
 
 We are living here in the greatest peace imaginable. 
 "VVe have trees and greenery, with the beautiful blue 
 sky of September over our heads. The most I man- 
 age to do is to write a few verses. I assure you, the 
 best thing here is to enjoy the pleasure of h\ing. It 
 is a sleepy hollow. 
 
 Still your letter made me regret I was not in Paris. 
 If I had been there, we would have dined together in 
 some pot-house, and you would have read me your 
 article on Lamartine. You know how much I love 
 Lamartine, and how much I love you. I look on you 
 as twin poets : two admirable poets of the heart, of the 
 soul, and of hfe. So you can imagine how I long to 
 see one analyzed by the other. I am eagerly expecting 
 the JRevue of the 1st of October. It is strange that 
 you should have made me wish for a periodical in the 
 middle of all this pretty country. 
 
 M. Bertin has invited the Abbe de Lamennais and 
 Montalembert to dine at Les Roches. They are coming 
 on Sunday. They will find but indifferent Catholics 
 here, but true and sincere admirers of every kind of 
 genius and virtue. 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend. I do not require your 
 kind presence at Le roi s' amuse at present. You may 
 be sure I shall make use of you, as you would of me. 
 The greatest happiness on earth is to help a friend ; the 
 next greatest is to be helped by him. 
 
 Farewell. Yours most sincerely, Victor. 
 
TO SAIXTE-BEUVE. 203 
 
 We are all wonderfully well. My vdie walks six 
 miles every day, and is growing visibly stouter. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To M. Saixte-Beuve, 1 Ter Rue du Montparnasse. 
 
 12>th November, 1832. 
 
 Every place in the theatre is taken, my friend, and 
 taken all at once, and by all kinds of people. It hap- 
 pened so quickly that I was quite astonished by it. Still 
 a few boxes have been reserved for such of my friends 
 as care to take them, and I am glad to be able to let 
 Madame Allart have one. The day before the per- 
 formance (which will take place on the 22d), she can 
 send for the tickets for Box No. 5 in the second tier 
 on the left side. There are six seats in the box. I 
 am keeping a stall for you, and I will give you the 
 two tickets you want. How kind you are to think of 
 me, and to have some affection for me still. 
 
 You are right, the gentleman is surpassing himself ; 
 but what does it matter ? He is to be pitied rather than 
 blamed. He will be delighted if the Box s'amiise is 
 a failure. This is his revenge on me for the frantic 
 applause which greeted Othello. 
 
 As for you, you remain the great poet and the kind 
 friend. I should much like to meet you some Sunday 
 evening at Nodier's — next Sunday, perhaps ? 
 
 Your old friend, V. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Saturday evenmrj, 1st Dccemher, 1832. 
 I have scon Carrel, my friend, and found him cor- 
 dial and kind. He told me that all you had to do was 
 
204 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 to bring him an extract from the preface to-morrow 
 (Renduel should have sent it to you this evening), with 
 a sort of short article in which you can say what you 
 like, and that the whole will be published on Monday 
 morning in the political part of the paper. He assured 
 me he thought it was the duty of the National to back 
 me up energetically and unreservedly in the action I am 
 going to bring against the Ministry ; and he said, of 
 his own accord, that I might ask you in his name to 
 write, about five or six days hence, a lengthy political 
 article on the whole question, pointing out how neces- 
 sary it is for the Opposition to support me warndy, if 
 it does not wish to forego its rights. You know my 
 retired and domestic habits, my dear friend, and will 
 understand how necessary all this assistance is to me in 
 the struggle which I am bound to take up and persevere 
 in. Altogether, I was much pleased with Carrel. He 
 is inclined to do all he can to make my case as prom- 
 inent as possible. As for the literary side of the 
 question, he is also behaving very well. He even says 
 he will have no objection to you or ]\Iagnin writing 
 an article on the printed play in a week or so, when 
 Rolle's article Avill have been sufficiently forgotten to 
 prevent the paper having the appearance of contra- 
 dicting itself. 
 
 Farewell, my poor friend. This is a great deal to 
 ask of you all at once. I am afraid I am too importu- 
 nate. But you are still the friend I depend on most ; 
 and every day I pray that I may have the opportunity 
 of returning you all the kindnesses I owe you. I place 
 myself entirely in your hands. 
 
 Ever your friend, Yictor. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 205 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 IDecemher, 1832.] 
 
 I do not know Beranger's address, my dear Sainte- 
 Beuve. As you often see him, would you be so kind 
 as to forward this parcel to him ? 
 
 I hope we shall meet soon. I love you more than 
 ever. Victor. 
 
 I think Renduel has sent you your copy. What is 
 our worthy Leroux about ? I never see him now. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 Slst December, 1832. 
 
 My dear Saint-de-Beuve, — Thank you very much 
 for the beautiful book Paul et Virginie that you sent 
 me. Toto and Charles are very pleased with their 
 Zoological Gardens and box of soldiers. Dede is very 
 pleased with the beautiful boa you gave her. She 
 thinks it is a little pussy-cat ; if they would let her 
 always have it, she would be very happy. But, unfortu- 
 nately, they won't let her have it always. Papa tells 
 me to send you his love ; so does mamma. 
 
 Good-by, my dear Saint-de-Beuve, 
 
 Ll^OPOLDINE HUGO.^ 
 
 1 31s/ December, 1832. 
 
 MoN CHER Saint-de-Beuve, — Je te reraercie bien da beau livre 
 de Paul et Virginie que tu m'a envoy^. Toto et Cbarle sont tr6s content 
 du soldat et du jardin ddplante. Dddd est ivks contante du beaux boa 
 que tu \\n ;\ doiind et elle le prcnds poure son petit cbat si on bii donnait 
 toujours elle s'amusera bien. Malbeureusement on ne vent pas lui lesser 
 toujours. Papa ni'a dit que je disc bien des cboses de sa part, nianiau 
 aussi. 
 
 Adieu mon cher Saint-de-Beuve, LiSopoldine Hugo. 
 
206 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 31st December, 1832. 
 
 Here is a specimen of Didine's style. I really must 
 add a little of mine to it, to thank you and send you 
 my best love. Victor. 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 18^^ [January], 1833. 
 
 When the public is excluded, you, my friend, can 
 always get in. I will therefore get you admitted to a 
 rehearsal as soon as there is a fairly good one, and I 
 shall be dehghted to see you there. I will take the two 
 stalls you want in the amphitheatre (red stalls) : they 
 are the best places in the theatre. They will be entered 
 in your name.^ 
 
 Yours sincerely, Vic. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 Sunday, [2^ February], 1833. 
 
 I am sending you, my friend, some remarks of 
 Planche which completely puzzle me. He must be out 
 of his mind to imagine that I can ever assume the 
 slightest connection, let alone community of interest, 
 between you and him. 
 
 You know well that you have no truer friend than I 
 am. V. 
 
 xxxvi. 
 
 2oth February, [1833]. 
 
 The friendship between you and me, Sainte-Beuve, is 
 too firmly and durably cemented to allow petty, personal 
 questions to divide us for a single moment. We are 
 
 ^ The reference is to the performance of Lucrezia Borgia. Sainte- 
 Beuve had asked for the two stalls for George Sand. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 207 
 
 real friends. It is our duty not to give a moment's cre- 
 dence to the stupid or malicious gossip which may be 
 retailed to us as having been said by one of us aljout 
 the other. I am sure you do not doubt, my friend, that 
 your name is never mentioned by me but as it ought to 
 be, with every expression of the most fraternal friend- 
 ship, admiration, and affection. I could not even bear 
 to have around me men who did not share my opinion 
 of you, and who did not speak of you as I do. You 
 are one of my objects of worship. Do not forget this, 
 and whenever you are told that I have spoken of you 
 otherwise than as of a brother, just say, That is not so. 
 I do not know why I am writing you all this, for I 
 am sure I am merely giving expression to your own 
 thoughts; but since people have been stupid enough 
 to mention your name in connection with M. Buloz' 
 unworthy behavior to me, I wanted to tell you that 
 you have never been dearer to me, or more contin- 
 ually in my thoughts, than now, w^hen I hardly ever 
 see you. V. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 lOth March, [1833]. 
 
 I must write you a few lines, my friend, on Abel's 
 behalf. M. Buloz' dislike of me is being passed on 
 to him. M. Buloz had made an ag^reement with him 
 through me, which led Abel to refuse offers made him 
 from other quarters. Now M. Buloz thinks fit to evade 
 or cancel the agreement ... I will have nothing to 
 say to him. But it would be very kind of you, my dear 
 Sainte-Beuve, to speak to him on the subject. . . . See 
 if all recollection of past services has not faded from his 
 nnnd. All future relations between him and me depend 
 
"208 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 on this matter. I judge people once for all^ and there 
 is an end of it. 
 
 I will go and see you, my friend. I will have a talk 
 with you about this, and also about many other matters 
 on which I need your friendly advice. Your friendship 
 is still one of the bright spots in my life. I never think 
 of it without emotion. The other day I w^as reading 
 Les Consolations again. Where is that delightful 
 past? What does not pass away is the memory of a 
 friendship like yours in a heart like mine. Farewell. 
 Rest assured that I have never been more loorthy of 
 being loved by you. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 12/^ June, [1833]. 
 
 My friendship with you, my dear Sainte-Beuve, is, 
 as you know, quite apart from all literary and political 
 questions whatsoever. No doubt it would give me great 
 pleasure to know that your opinions were, as in the old 
 days, in harmony with mine on all those art problems 
 the solution of which is one of the interests of my life. 
 But it can't be helped : we are all more or less unsettled. 
 One thing is settled and unvarying with me, and that 
 is my admiration for all you do, and my love for what 
 you are. 
 
 You propose that we should dine together. It would 
 be a great pleasure to me, and I should have endless 
 things to tell you. I will write and let you know the 
 first day I am disengaged. 
 
 Farewell. We shall meet soon. V. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 209 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 20th August, [1833]. 
 
 I must go and see you one of these days, my dear 
 Sainte-Beuve. I want to have a talk with you. I want 
 to tell you what I have just said to some one who 
 repeated to me, without malice, however, some cold 
 remarks which you are supposed to have made about 
 me. I said it could not be so ; that we both knew we 
 had no truer friend than each other ; that our friend- 
 ship was one of those which are proof against absence 
 and gossip, and that I loved you with all my heart, 
 as I have always done. I said this, and now I sit 
 down to write it to you, so that nothing may come 
 between us unawares, and that not even the faintest 
 shadow may arise between your heart and mine. 
 
 We shall soon meet. Farewell. My eyes are stiU 
 very bad, and I am working hard. 
 
 Victor. 
 
 XL. 
 
 22d August, [1833]. 
 
 I must write to you at once, while the impression 
 your letter has made is fresh in my mind. Perhaps I 
 ought to wait a day or two, but I cannot. How little 
 you understand my character, Sainte-Beuve : you have 
 always thought me ruled by my head, whereas I am 
 guided by my heart. To love, and to need /oce and 
 friencUh'qi, apply these two words as you hke, is the 
 princii)le of my existence, whether in joy or grief, before 
 the world or in private, heart-Avhole or not. You have 
 never recognized this sufficiently in me, and this ac- 
 counts for more than one signal mistake in your esti- 
 
 VOL. I. 14 
 
210 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 mate of me, so kindly in other respects. You will 
 shake your head at this, but it is nevertheless perfectly 
 true. You write me a long letter, my poor, dear friend, 
 full of literary details and unimportant facts magnified 
 by our separation, which would vanish into nothing and 
 make us both laugh after half-an-hour's chat. I am so 
 convinced of this that I am sure you would think so 
 too after a moment's reflection, and I therefore do not 
 dwell on it. I think I have already told you, Sainte- 
 Beuve, there can be no literary question between us. 
 There were two friends, no more and no less. I admit 
 that absence has produced an opposite effect on us both. 
 You love me less than you did two years ago, while I 
 love you more. On reflection, the explanation is very 
 simple. I was the offended party. The slow and grad- 
 ual process of forgetting the events which estranged us 
 acts in your favor in my heart, and against me in yours. 
 Since life is so constituted, let us resign ourselves. 
 
 On my side I was stiU so firmly attached to you, 
 that your letter telling me that you are no longer my 
 friend leaves me all sore and torn. The wound will 
 continue to bleed for a long time. Farewell, I am still 
 your sincere friend. My consolation in this life will be 
 that I have never been the first to part from one who 
 loved me. 
 
 Boulanger had not told me anything. I should have 
 mentioned it to you. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 2M Augmt, [1833]. 
 
 Thank you, my friend, for your letter : thanks even 
 for the first, since it brings me the second. You had 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 211 
 
 no idea how deeply you had wounded me, nor how much 
 good you do me now. Great Heavens ! why cannot the 
 depths of my heart, which is yours more than ever, be 
 laid bare ? Absence kills nothing in me — friendship 
 as little as love. I thought you knew this. Twelve 
 years ago, a separation of eighteen months only 
 caused my love to become deeper and more holy. My 
 heart has never altered. I am still the same stubborn 
 creature in all things, who loves even without seeing 
 the object of his affection. I suffer, but I love on. Do 
 you suppose that I have not gone through much on 
 your account during the last two years? You have 
 often been misled by a certain outward calm in me. 
 
 My wishes coincide with yours, of course. We will 
 dine together once a week. We will let no dust settle 
 on our memories of the past or on our secret shrines. 
 My warmest thanks for what you propose to me about 
 Charles. We will talk it over. I feel how sincere and 
 touching your offer is, and it w^ould be a great thing 
 for the child. But you see what obstacles there are. 
 Anyhow, whether the thing is done or not, I am deeply 
 grateful. A thousand thanks. You do me good : you 
 bring me back a friend, and such a friend ! 
 
 I must love you, and feel that I am loved by you. It 
 is part of my life. 
 
 I am under an eno^a^rement to finish and send in a 
 play before the 1st of September. You know how my 
 work absorbs me when once I jret into it : so I must end 
 this letter. After that date I will go and see you, or I 
 will write to ask you to fix a day for us to have a long, 
 unreserved talk. I did go to see you a little while ago. 
 Did you know it ? Oh ! Sainte-Beuve, two such friends 
 
212 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 as we are should never part. It would be a crime. 
 There ! I am your devoted friend. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 28th August, [1833]. 
 
 This is only to tell you, my friend, that I am hard at 
 work, that I thinking of you, and that I am yours with 
 all my heart. 
 
 We shall meet soon. Love me. V. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 Les Roches, 1st October, [1833]. 
 I am writing to you from the country, my friend, but 
 I shall be in Paris next Monday. Several of our friends 
 want to hear my play. I am going to read it to them 
 at seven in the evening in the Place Royale. Will you 
 join us ? You will be most heartily welcome. It will 
 remind us of happier days. 
 
 Farewell. We will fix the day you mention for 
 dining together. 
 
 Your old friend, Victor. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 21st October, [1833]. 
 
 Many thanks, my friend, for your two kind notes. I 
 will see that all you want is done. They will only have 
 to send to the theatre the day before the performance. 
 We will dine together any day you Hke. 
 
 I love you dearly. Victor. 
 
TO SAINTE-BEUVE. 213 
 
 XLV. 
 
 2,7th November, 1833. 
 
 Any day you like excepting Sunday, my friend. Only 
 give me two or three days' notice, and tell me the exact 
 time and the place of our meeting. I shall be delighted 
 to see you and have a talk with you. I shall take refuge 
 in your friendship for a few moments. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 Has Kenduel sent you your copy of Marie- Tudor ? 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 4:th February, [1834]. 
 
 My Friend, — One must be very certain of the rights 
 a friendship like ours confers, to be able to write and 
 tell you what I have on my mind at this moment. But 
 I prefer this course to silence, which might be misinter- 
 preted. I have read your article, which is one of the 
 best you have ever written, and, like our conversation 
 the other day at Giittinguer's house, it has left a painful 
 impression on me, which I must communicate to you. 
 I find in it (and it produces this effect on hoo persons) 
 unbounded eulogy, magnificent language, but underly- 
 ing all — and this makes me very sad — a lack of 
 kindly feeling. I should have preferred less praise 
 and more sympathy. What is the cause of this ? . . . 
 Have we come to this point ? Examine yourself con- 
 scientiously, and tell me if I am right. If I am mis- 
 taken, tell me so too, and as ronglily as you like. I 
 shall b(3 glad if you can prove tliat I am wrong. 
 
 Before closing this letter I wished to read your article 
 
214 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 again, for the fourth time, and my impression of it 
 remains the same. Victor Hugo is overwhelmed with 
 praise. Victor Hugo thanks you ; but Victor, your old 
 friend Victor, is grieved. 
 
 Sincerely yours, V. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 Ith February, [1834]. 
 
 I wish I had you here to shake you by the hand. 
 Your letter is a kind one ; thank you, my friend. I 
 have barely time to write you a few lines, but I must not 
 let the day go by without telling you that you will make 
 me sleep well to-night. V. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 Tuesday evening, \st April, [1834]. 
 
 Any friend of mine has to share so much animosity 
 and so much despicable persecution nowadays, that I can 
 quite understand even the most tried friendship shrink- 
 ing from the ordeal. Farewell, then, my friend ; let us 
 each bury in silence what was already dead in you, and 
 what your letter kills in me. Farewell. V. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 To M. Saixte-Beuve, at the Institut. 
 
 28th February, 1845.1 
 
 Your letter moves and touches me. I thank you with 
 all my heart for your thanks. V. 
 
 1 After Victor Hugo's speech for Sainte-Beuve's reception into the 
 French Academy. 
 
V. TO HIS CHILDREN. 
 
 I. 
 
 Etampes, 19^^ August, 1834. 
 
 Good-morning, my pet ; good-morning, my dear 
 little girlie. I promised to write to you. You see, I 
 am keeping my word. 
 
 I have seen the sea, some fine churches, and some 
 pretty country. The sea is large, the churches are 
 handsome, the country is pretty ; but the country is not 
 as pretty as you, the churches are not as handsome as 
 your mamma, and the sea is not as great as my love for 
 you all. 
 
 My pet, I have often given halfpence to poor chil- 
 dren walking barefooted by the roadside, for your sakes, 
 my little ones. I love you all dearly. 
 
 A few hours more and I shall be kissing you on your 
 two dear little cheeks, and also my big Charhe, and my 
 little Dede, who will give me a smile, I hope, and my 
 beloved Toto. 
 
 Good-by for the present, my Didine. Keep this 
 letter. When you are grown up, I shall be old, you 
 will show it me. We shall love each other dearly ; 
 when you are old, you will show it to your children, and 
 they will love you as much as I do. We shall soon 
 meet. 
 
 Your own daddy, V . 
 
216 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 n. 
 
 Amiens, 3c? August, 1835. 
 
 I am writing to you on very bad paper, my Didine, 
 but I should like to put so many nice things on it as to 
 make it seem charming to you. 
 
 I hope you have been very good, very gentle, very 
 quiet, and very nice to your mother, who is so kind 
 herself. You must take my place with her till I see 
 you again, and also make up to her for the other dear 
 little children who are dull in Paris, while you are 
 enjoying yourself at Angers. 
 
 When you see them again, you must kiss them all 
 for me, — Charlie on his two fat cheeks, Toto on his 
 forehead, and Dede on her sweet little mouth. 
 
 I love you dearly, my Didine. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 III. 
 
 Treport, Gth All gusty 1835. 
 
 Thank you for your nice little letter, my pet ; I shall 
 be very glad when the day comes for me to thank you 
 with a kiss on both your cheeks. 
 
 I am at the seaside ; it is very beautiful, but if you 
 were here with your mother and the other little ones, 
 it would look quite ugly compared with you all. 
 
 I am delighted with that story of the cows which 
 gave grandpapa a draught of milk. I would have 
 asked you to give them a hug for me, but you have not 
 got them with you now. 
 
 Good-by for the present, my Didinette ; write to me, 
 and tell mother to give you a kiss and ten sous. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 217 
 
 IV, 
 
 1th August, 183G. 
 
 Good-morning, my Dicline. Good-morning, my pet. 
 I am writing to you from Rennes. It is five o'clock in 
 the morning. It is Thursday, a holiday. I have been 
 traveling for two days and two nights, shaken up like 
 a bottle that is being rinsed. I shall see the sea to-day. 
 
 Here are kisses for you, and for my three other little 
 treasures. 
 
 Good-by for the present. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 V. 
 
 Valenciennes, l^th August, 1837. 
 
 The church-bells are pealing as I arrive in this town. 
 It is the fete of the Virgin. I dedicate it to you, my 
 child. 
 
 I did not wish to let this day go by without writing 
 to you, my beloved Didine. Not a day, not an hour 
 passes without my thinking of you. 
 
 Your mother, you, your brothers, and your dear little 
 sister are always in my thoughts, and united to me in 
 the same love. 
 
 Did you get my last little scrawl ? Did you like it, 
 my Didine ? Keep it for my sake. 
 
 Above all, keep your innocence and your kind heart, 
 your reverence for God and for your mother, your 
 simple mind, and constant desire to do right ; in so 
 doing you will some day, like your mother, unite the 
 virtues of the woman to the innocence of the child. 
 To get here, I had to pass through lovely country. 
 
218 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 green and covered with flowers, wliicli made me think 
 of God ; I spoke to it of you, of all of you, my dear 
 ones, whom 1 have left behind me. 
 
 Kiss all those I love who are around you for me, 
 beginning with your mother. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Etapes, near Boulogne-sur-Mer, 
 
 3c? September, 9 p. m., [1837]. 
 
 I have passed through Dunkirk, Calais, and Boulogne- 
 sur-Mer, my darling Didine ; and I have read your two 
 nice little letters over and over again, as well as those 
 from your brothers and from your dear mother, who is 
 so beloved and so worthy of it. Your grandfather has 
 also written me a charming letter. Give him my best 
 love and thanks for this, and do not leave out Juju. I 
 have just been walking on the beach and thinking of 
 you, my poor little darling. I gathered this flower for 
 you on the sandhills. It is a wild pansy, which has been 
 often watered by the foam of the ocean. Keep it for 
 daddy's sake, who is so fond of you. I have already 
 sent your mother a flower from the ruins, the Ghent 
 poppy, and now here is a flower from the sea. And 
 then, my darling, I wrote your name on the sand, Didi. 
 To-night the rising tide will obhterate it, but nothing 
 can ever obliterate your father's love for you. 
 
 I have constantly thought of you, dear child. Every 
 fine town I saw made me wish that you, your mother, 
 and your brothers had been with me, and your grand- 
 father, to explain everything to us. All day I was 
 looking at churches and pictures, and then at night I 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 219 
 
 gazed at the sky, and thought once more of you, my 
 Didine, as I watched that beautiful constellation, the 
 chariot of God, which I have taught you to distinguish 
 among the stars. 
 
 See, my child, how great God is, and how small we are ; 
 where we put dots of ink, He puts suns. These are 
 the letters with which He writes. The sky is His book. 
 I shall bless God, my Didine, if you are always able to 
 read it, and I hope you may. 
 
 As to the fine towns I have seen, I will tell you all 
 about them. In the meanwhile, here is something to 
 give you a faint idea of them ; as the other sketch gives 
 you an idea of the Great Bear. Imagine that my draw- 
 ing is twinkling, and you will fancy you have seen what 
 I have. 
 
 In a few days, my child, between the 10th and the 
 15th, I shall be in Paris. Oh ! what joy it will be to 
 embrace you all again. In the meanwhile, give Charlie, 
 Toto, and Dede a kiss for me. My fondest love to you 
 and to your mother, to whom I will write to-morrow. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 VII. 
 
 For My darling Didixe. 
 
 [1838.] 
 
 Thank you for your nice little letter, my Didine. It 
 went to my heart. I see with joy that you love your 
 father as much as he loves you, and that you appreciate 
 beautiful things as he does. You are your father's 
 own child. 
 
220 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Write to me as often as you can, my little pet. I 
 have no doubt I shall often need this ray of sunshine. 
 
 You have seen the banks of the Seine ; I am going 
 to see the banks of the Ehine, which are still more 
 beautiful. I will take you there some day. 
 
 Think of me, dear child, and kiss my Charlie, my 
 Toto, and my Dede for me. You five at home fill my 
 heart. 
 
 Your own daddy, Victor. 
 
 I have not been very well, but I am all right now. 
 My best love to M. Vacquerie. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Epernay, 27th August, noon, [1838]. 
 
 I am writing you a few lines in great haste, my Didine, 
 as the post is going. I shall get to Paris to-morrow 
 evening, the 28th, at 8 o'clock, and I hope to embrace 
 you all the day after. Remind your dear mother to do 
 all I asked her for Joly, and to get a servant by the 
 time I return. 
 
 I have seen Reims, and instead of a long description 
 I send you a little picture of it, which I think will please 
 you just as much. Tell Charlie, Toto, and Ded^ that 
 I will draw a picture for each of them when I get to 
 Paris. 
 
 Here are many kisses for you, my pet, and for your 
 beloved mother, and all the little ones. Give my love 
 to your grandpapa, who is your kind papa as well. 
 
 Good-by till the day after to-morrow. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 221 
 
 IX. 
 
 For My Charlie. 
 
 Mayence, 1st October, [1838]. 
 
 My dear old Charlie, — You must write me a good 
 long letter (to Treves), beginning it early and finishing 
 it late. You know how much I love you, dear child. 
 I must have a long letter from you. You must also 
 write a little diary for me, telling me how you have 
 spent your time at Saint-Prix during the holidays, and 
 if, as I hoj^e, you have prepared for next year's work 
 amid your play and leisure time. I want you, my dear 
 Charhe, to be a good, hard-w^orking boy, and an indus- 
 trious scholar. 
 
 Talking of this reminds me that in one of my letters 
 I gave you an exercise to write. Neither you nor Toto 
 have sent it to me. Now that the holidays are nearly 
 over, and you have only a few days left to play, I will 
 let you off this exercise. 
 
 If you have read my letters, dear Charlie, you will 
 know what I mean by the Cat and the Mouse, The Cat 
 is for Toto, and the Mouse for you. In my drawing 
 they are quite unlike nature, the mouse is much larger 
 and much fiercer than the cat. The day I was drawing 
 it, the sky in which it was disappearing was stormy and 
 lowering. 
 
 You will notice at the foot of the adjoining moun- 
 tain the face of a giant with his mouth open. I drew 
 this very carefully. Your giant is an excellent like- 
 ness. 
 
 I do all this with pleasure, dear children, for your 
 sakes, to amuse you and make you happy. My pleasures 
 
222 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 of the moment, as well as the work of all my life, are 
 for you. 
 
 I am not sure what state the drawings I send you 
 will arrive in. The ink one gets at inns loses its color 
 from one day to another in the most tiresome way. 
 
 I have worked hard during the holidays, dear Charlie ; 
 I hope that you have done the same, too, a little. You 
 have been always in my thoughts, my dear old hoy ; I 
 hope that you have thought of your daddy, who loves 
 you as dearly as, nay more than, his life, and who kisses 
 you on both your nice cheeks. V. 
 
 X. 
 
 For My Didixe. 
 
 Stockach, IWi Octoher, [1838]. 
 
 I am writing to you, as well as to your mother, my 
 beloved Didine, and I beg you and her to write me a 
 nice little letter to Forbach, ^906'fe restante. Write as 
 soon as you have received this note. 
 
 Did you read what I wrote about the Cathedral at 
 Mayence? While I was going over this beautiful 
 church I was thinking of you, my darling, and of the 
 description I should give you of it of an evening at our 
 fireside in the Place Royale. I inclose the paper on 
 which I made a few notes while I was in the Cathedral. 
 It is only an illegible scrawl, but keep it all your life, 
 for my sake. It is a souvenir I give you. 
 
 The post is going, and I have hardly time to finish 
 this sheet. We shall meet soon, dearest Didine. Kiss 
 my dear boys for me. In a week or so I shall see and 
 embrace you all again. What joy that will be, my 
 darling ! It seems to me ages since I saw you last. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 223 
 
 Good-by. Think of your dacldy^ my beloved little 
 dauofhter. And write to me. Y, 
 
 XI. 
 
 Tuesday, 2oth June, 8 P. m., [1839]. 
 
 I am answering your letter at once, dear child, so 
 that this letter may reach you before you leave. Your 
 note gave me great pleasure. You are enjoying your- 
 self, you are pleased, that is enough for your parents, my 
 child ; we feel you are happy and that makes us happy. 
 
 You must not be surprised at not hearing from your 
 dear mother. She has plenty to do, as you know. She 
 has all the housekeeping to look after, and she spends 
 four hours a day teaching poor dear little Dede. 
 
 Please give our best thanks to kind Mme. Chaley, 
 and all her family, for all the kindness that has been 
 shown you. I must thank you for having copied those 
 lines. I have taken you away from your walks, your 
 games, and your talks under the trees for a time, but as 
 it has not bored you, I am satisfied. It has made you 
 think of your father, who needs nothing to remind him 
 of you. 
 
 Farewell till Thursday, my beloved Didine. You are 
 coming back to us, and every one is delighted at the idea. 
 Till Thursday, my darling. 
 
 Your loving father, V. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Marseilles, 3r/ Octoher, [183G]. 
 I have read your two nice letters, my Didine, and 
 they pleased me very much. All that I see, — tlie sky, 
 the mountains, the sea, all this is nothing to me, you 
 
224 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 see. I prefer my fireside^ my old blue sofa, with all of 
 you on my knees, to the Alps and the Mediterranean. 
 I feel it very deeply at this moment when I am alone 
 and reading your dear httle letters, which bring tears 
 to my eyes. 
 
 In a fortnight, between the 15th and the 20th, I 
 shall see you and embrace you again ; we shall then 
 have a good long time to be together, and I shall be so 
 happy. 
 
 You see, my dear child, one goes away because one 
 needs a change, and one comes back because one wants 
 happiness. 
 
 Continue to be good and gentle, and to be a pleasure 
 to me. Be attentive and loving to your good mother. 
 She loves you so much, and is so worthy of your love ! 
 
 Every evening I look at the stars, as we used to do 
 at night from the balcony in the Place Royale, and I 
 think of you, my Didine. I am glad to see that you 
 love and understand nature. Nature is the face of God. 
 He appears to us through it, and we can read Ilis 
 thoughts in it. 
 
 When this letter reaches you, you will be on the 
 point of starting for Paris. Perhaps you will have left 
 already. I shall also be beginning my journey home in 
 a few days. I shall leave fine weather and brilliant 
 sunshine behind me, but I shall have you, my darling 
 Didine, and all of you, to come back to. I am wrapped 
 up in you all. Many kisses, dear child. 
 
 Your dear old daddy, V. 
 
 Write at once to 2^0 ste restcmte, Chalon-sur-Saone. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 225 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Cannes, 8^^ October, [1839]. 
 
 Here are four sketches for you four, my Didine. I 
 send yoit the Strasburg Cathedral to match that of 
 Reims ; to Charlie, a view of a splendid old tower, 
 surrounded by the sea, on the Island of Saint Honorat, 
 two leagues from here (I have written the story of the 
 tower at the side of the drawing) ; to Toto, the view of 
 a suburb of Bale, taken from the Cathedral Square ; 
 and to Dede, a few pretty Baden houses, with the town 
 gate. I hope you will all be pleased with them, and 
 then, when I get home, I will do some more sketches 
 for those who have come off worst. I am the best off, 
 after all, because I feel the pleasure I am giving you 
 more than you do. 
 
 Those mountains behind the spire of Strasburg are 
 the Black Forest. 
 
 This is a beautiful spot ; I came to it to see the 
 prison of the Man with the Iron Mash, I have also 
 seen the Gulf Juan, where Napoleon landed in 1815. 
 I start for Paris the day after to-morrow. I shall get 
 there by the 18th or 19th. Kiss your dear good 
 mother for me. Tell her I count on o^ettino^ a letter 
 from her at Chalon-sur-Saone. I had begfun a lonjj 
 letter to her, but your drawings prevented me from 
 hnishinor it. She will o^et it soon. 
 
 You are back at school again, Charlie. Work hard, 
 be as good a scholar as you are a good boy, and love 
 your father, who is always thinking of you. 
 
 I win inclose a letter for you in the next I write to 
 
 VOL. I. 15 
 
226 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 your mother. Good-by for the present, my darhng 
 Charlie. 
 
 We shall meet soon, my Toto. I have been at sea 
 for the last fortnight. I have learnt how to steer a 
 sailing-boat, to make plain knots, gasket knots, running 
 knots, etc. I will show you all my accomplishments in 
 Paris. You are now at school ; you must work hard 
 too, my pet. 
 
 My Dede, I love you. You love papa very much, 
 don't you ? I wanted to pick up some shells for you 
 here ; but I could not find any. There is nothing but 
 sand, which is ridiculous. 
 
 I am coming back to you, my Didine. Make your 
 mother happy, my darhng, and love me. 
 
 We shall meet soon, mamma ; very soon, my Adele. 
 Write me a nice letter, a really nice letter. I love 
 you, and I shall love you still more if you will send 
 me some lovinor and tender words, which I am lono;mor 
 for. 
 
 As to the rent, tell M. Bellanger I will pay it when I 
 come back, about the ISth or lOtli. 
 
 Kiss me, my Adele, and be happy, for I am devotedly 
 attached to you. 
 
 I embrace you all, my darlings. 
 
 Your father, V. 
 
 The drawings are all one inside the other. You must 
 open them carefully. 
 
TO Ills CHILDPvEN. 227 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Chalon-sur-Sa6ne, 18t7i October, [1839]. 
 
 I shall be in Paris about the 23(1 or 25th to embrace 
 you, my darling Didine, and to embrace all of you. I 
 hope I shall not be stopped by there being no seats in 
 the diligences. This is what prevents my letting you 
 know the exact day. I do not even know it myself. 
 
 I found two nice little letters from you here, my 
 darling. I am so touched by all you say, my child. I 
 see that you love me, that you all love me, and this is 
 the delight of my life. 
 
 Write once more to poste restante, Fontainebleau. 
 Kiss Charlie and Toto for me, and tell them they must 
 work hard, now that they have been so pleased with 
 the little drawings I sent them. 
 
 As for you, my Didine, continue to be good and 
 gentle ; improve your heart and mind ; love God 
 through your mother, and love me, too, I who work 
 only for you all, and every one will bless you as I do. 
 Good-by for the present, dear daughter. 
 
 Your loving father, V. 
 
 See that all the letters and papers are kept for me, 
 and that nothing is mislaid. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Sunday, 12th, [1839]. 
 
 My darling Didine, — Will you send the inclosed 
 note to your friend Clementine for her brother, wlio 
 has sent me some pretty verses, and whose address I do 
 not know. Tell your dear mother I saw Charles and 
 
228 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Toto this morning. M. Prieur has taken them out for 
 the day. Charles's theme is well done, but unfortunately 
 he made two mistakes in it. Still, I do not despair 
 about it. Tell your mother I left the letter for the 
 grocer on my chimney-piece. 
 
 Good-by for the present, dear child. Fondest love 
 to you all. 
 
 Your loving father, V. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 13th May, midnight, [1840]. 
 
 You have not written to me, Didine, my dear child, 
 you have not thought of your daddy ; it is now 
 Wednesday evening, and I do not yet know if I am 
 to get places for your brothers for Saturday evening. 
 Will there be time to do it? Write directly, my 
 Didine. Tell me the news about you all; and then 
 send me my shirt-maker's address ; and then give me 
 minute directions how to find your house when one 
 gets to Saint-Prix. 
 
 Good-by till Sunday, I hope, my poor darling. Kiss 
 your dear mother and Dede for me. My love to your 
 kind grandfather, and I embrace you, my Didine. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 18/^ August, [1842]. 
 
 Thank you, my darling daughter, my beloved Didine, 
 for your nice little letter. Write to me like this every 
 day. I was so delighted to hear that Toto was taking 
 such draughts of your good air into his lungs. Here is 
 a little sketch which I send him by way of thanks. But 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 229 
 
 tell him to take great care of himself, not to over-tire 
 himself, not to cough, and to come in early. Tell all 
 this to your dear mother, who is adored by Toto, I am 
 sure. Give her a kiss for me, as well as to CharHe and 
 Dede. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 A little job has cropped up for me, as president of 
 the Institute, which keeps me here. As soon as I am 
 free, I will come and see you all, and embrace you ; I 
 am longing for this as much as you are, my dear ones. 
 
 Give my love to dear Julia. Kindest regards to the 
 Collin ladies. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Wednesday, 31st August, [1842]. 
 
 It is a great pleasure to me, my dear little girl, to 
 get all the good news you give me. Your mother has 
 recovered from her slight indisposition ; Toto is getting 
 better every day. Thank God ! I was rather anxious 
 about Saint-Prix ; now I bless the place. 
 
 I am afraid I shall not be able to go and see you all 
 before Friday, and even then I must return here early 
 the next day. I suppose I shall arrive at the same time 
 as M. H. Didier, who wrote to me to ask if he mio-ht 
 do so. Your mother will no doubt find a bed for him 
 somewhere. 
 
 Please thank the Collin ladies, until I can do so 
 myself. I know how kind they are, but I am doubly 
 pleased when their kindness is extended to all of you. 
 
 Kiss your dear motlier on both her cheeks, and then 
 Charlie and Dede and Julia. Here is a small letter for 
 my Toto, whose little man is delightful. As for you. 
 
230 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 my darling daughter, I embrace you, as I love you, very 
 fondly. V. 
 
 Take great care of yourself also. Be careful about 
 your headaches. Eat well, laugh and be merry. Dear 
 children, my chief happiness is to know you are all well. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Wednesday, 1th September, [1842]. 
 
 Here is a little note for Toto, my darling child. I 
 am much afraid my work will prevent my going to see 
 you before the beginning of next week. This distresses 
 me even more than it does you. You know, you all 
 know, that my happiness is to be among you, my chil- 
 dren. It requires a great deal of courage to stay here 
 when you are all down there. 
 
 Kiss your dear mother for me, my beloved little 
 daughter. Tell dear old Charlie that, as he has taken 
 up drawing, he must always draw from real life, slowly, 
 carefully, and conscientiously. That is the way to attain 
 rapidity and steadiness of execution. Tell Dede to 
 think a little of me, when Gipon and Gipus leave her 
 the time to do so. Above all, enjoy yourselves, keep 
 w^ell, and be happy. In five or six days I hope I shall 
 see Julia with her hair done up in Chinese style ; in the 
 meanwhile give her my best love. 
 
 Make my excuses to the Collin ladies for not having 
 been to see them last time, and give them my kind 
 regards. And then, dear child, when you have done all 
 these commissions, ask your mother to kiss you for me ; 
 she alone can do it as lovingly as I. 
 
 Your loving father, V. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 231 
 
 XX. 
 
 Friday, [1842]. 
 
 Thank you, my darling child, for your nice little let- 
 ter. Alas ! I cannot come, I am up to my knees, up 
 to my neck, up to my eyes, and even over head and 
 ears in my second act. Kiss your dear mother for me, 
 and here are three scrawls. Cast lots for them among 
 you four. When I come, I will give a kiss to the one 
 who did not get anything. 
 
 Your own daddy, V. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To Madame Vacquerie-Hugo. 
 [L:6opoLDiNE Hugo.] 
 
 IQth March, [1843]. 
 
 If you received all the letters I sent you, dear child, 
 the postman would disturb your sweet happiness at 
 every moment of the day and night. For a whole 
 month, in the midst of this vortex, beset by renewed 
 animosity, overwhelmed with rehearsals, lawsuits, wor- 
 ries, lawyers, and actors, wearied, harassed, with bad 
 eyes, tormented on every side, I can truly say, my 
 beloved child, that not a quarter of an hour has passed 
 without my thinking of you, and without my sending 
 you, mentally, heaps of kind little messages. 
 
 I know you are happy ; I rejoice in it from a dis- 
 tance, and with a melancholy pleasure, and your blue 
 sky makes up to me for my clouds. My heart is sad, 
 but at the same time full ; I know that your husband is 
 kind, gentle, and charming ; I thank him from the bot- 
 tom of my heart for your happiness ; be wise, both of 
 you, and absorbed in each other ; true happiness Hes 
 
232 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 in being united, — keep united, my children; this is 
 the only serious, true, good, and real thing in Hfe. I 
 love you, and my thoughts are with you, my beloved 
 daughter. 
 
 When you receive the Burgraves you will see on 
 pages ninety-six and ninety-seven some lines I could not 
 bear to listen to at the rehearsals for the first few days 
 after your departure. I used to go into a corner, and 
 cry like a child, or hke a father as I am. There, I do 
 love you dearly, my poor httle Didine. 
 
 Your mother reads me your letters. Write good 
 long ones. We hve your life with you. As for me, I 
 can hardly write. Many kisses for you, love to your 
 husband, and my warmest regards to Mme. Lefevre. 
 
 Your loving father, V. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To ClIARLES VaCQUERIE. 
 
 23rf MarcTi, [1843]. 
 
 Here is a letter, my dear Charles, that I have wTitten 
 to your good mother. Be so kind as to give it to her. 
 I have just this moment received yours ; many thanks 
 for it. I am glad that my daughter makes you happy 
 amid the grief which overwhelms you. She is a dear, 
 sweet child ; she is worthy of you ; you are worthy of 
 her. Always love each other. Everything lies in that 
 one word. 
 
 Yours, with much affection, V. H. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 233 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To Madame Vacquerie-Hugo. 
 
 Paris, 21s/ April, [1843]. 
 
 Never say that I forget you, my beloved daughter, 
 even in fun. If I do not vmte often, the reason perhaps 
 is that I am thinking too much about you. I have 
 often long, delightful conversations with you, without 
 your knowing it; in the silence of the night I send 
 you blessings from here which reach you, I am sure, 
 and make you sleep better, and be more loved. As I 
 have already told you, you receive letters of this kind 
 at every moment. 
 
 As for the other kind of letters, those written on 
 paper and carried by the post, they are so cold in com- 
 parison, so imperfect, so dimmed by all the shadows 
 which life casts ! Truly, my beloved daughter, I do not 
 write to you because I think too much of you. Make 
 what you like of this, but it is so. Above all, never 
 say that your father forgets you. 
 
 Your mother reads all your nice little letters to me. 
 They are bright and sweet. They bring us an echo of 
 your happiness. Dear child, be happy, make your 
 husband happy ; cultivate your mutual happiness, both 
 of you, with unremitting love. 
 
 Before long, next month, your mother, Dede, and 
 Toto will join you. I shall remain alone in Paris, where 
 I am still kept by endless work, business, and worries. 
 Think of me sometimes, then, all of you, and also of 
 dear old Charlie, who is an exile like me. 
 
 I for my part shall think of you, and wish you every 
 happiness and every joy. Present my kind regards to 
 
234 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Mme. Vacquerie and Mme. Lef evre. Give my best love 
 to your husband, and then always love your father, who 
 loves you so much. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 22d May, [1843]. 
 
 Your happiness is mine, my darling Didine, and every 
 time I get one of your nice little letters, full of such 
 serene happiness, I thank God. My best love to your 
 dear good husband. I thank him for making you happy. 
 
 I am living alone, my dear child, in the greatest 
 solitude, my mind full of you all, for it is of you I think 
 when I work. I walk about all day under the trees of 
 the forest of Vincennes, with the old keep to look at, 
 and occasionally a peasant or a road-mender for a com- 
 panion, and composing poetry all the time. 
 
 I shall remain in Paris as long as possible on Charles's 
 account, and also for the sake of your good old friend, 
 Mile. Louise Bertin, who will, I hope, get a Monthyon 
 prize. I have set things going, and I must now keep 
 my eye on the hostile party in the Academy until the 
 matter is settled. 
 
 Your mother has driven me a thousand deliohtful 
 details about your home. You had already told me 
 some. She has completed the picture. I can see your 
 little room in my mind's eye, your furniture, all well 
 chosen and arranged, the drawings, the curiosities, the 
 portraits, and my Didine looking fresh and happy in 
 the midst of all these pretty things. 
 
 I embrace you and I love you, my child. What hap- 
 piness it will be to see you again ! Think of me, write 
 to me. Do not forget, you have still the same place in 
 my heart, and in my life. Here is another kiss for you. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 235 
 
 XXV. 
 
 13;^ June, [1843]. 
 
 My eyes are very bacl^ my darling child, as I write. I 
 iniist work, but it makes my eyes worse. Your sweet 
 letter delighted me. My dream and my reward after 
 this year of hard work is to join you all. But I cannot 
 yet say when it will be. I must travel somewhere first, 
 either to the Pyrenees, or to the Moselle, a trip for health 
 to do my eyes good, for work, too, as you know, like all 
 my journeys. Afterwards, when I have gathered my 
 spoils and bound up my sheaf, I shall come and see you 
 all, my dear ones. I am entitled to this reward. 
 
 I spent yesterday, Sunday, with Charles in the country, 
 on an island in the Marne, an excursion arranged by 
 kind Doctor Parent, which amused and rested us. Tell 
 your dear mother Charles is hard at work ; tell her also 
 that I have just had a nice little letter from her which 
 I will soon answer. 
 
 I wrote a short time ago to your good husband to 
 recommend him an architect ; but the contract for the 
 work at the theatre has been given out, and I presume 
 the bearer of my letter did not think it worth while 
 to go to Havre. Give my best love to your Charles. 
 I will soon write to him too. 
 
 The fortune-teller did really read everything, word 
 for word, but with great difliculty and in a very con- 
 fused and indistinct way. The papers have greatly 
 exaggerated the afPair. I wdll tell you all about it. But 
 the fact is none the less stran^^e, and suji'o'ests curious 
 reflections. 
 
 Good-ljy till we meet, my darling daughter. Write 
 
236 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 to me, often. Write also to Mile. Bertin, who has 
 written to you and has not had an answer from you. 
 / heg you to do this. She is so fond of you. I send 
 you a fond kiss. I send kisses to all of you. Be very 
 happy, my own dear ones ! 
 
 My love to Auguste Vacquerie and to M. Eegnauld. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 Paris, l^th July, [1843]. 
 I am still in Paris, my beloved daughter. Your 
 dear mother will explain the reason to you. But I am 
 leaving soon, and when you receive this letter, think 
 lovingly of your poor father, who will be traveling 
 southwards far from you. If you only knew, my 
 daughter, what a baby I am when I think of you ; my 
 eyes fill with tears, I should like never to be parted 
 from you. The sight of your happiness the other day 
 charmed me. Your husband is kind, gentle, tender, 
 amiable, and intelligent ; love him with all your heart ; 
 I love him too. The day I spent at Havre is a bright 
 spot in my memory ; I shall never forget it as long as I 
 live. You do not know what it cost me to refuse you 
 all ! But it was necessary. I left with a heavy heart. 
 And in the morning, as I passed the docks, I looked up 
 at the windows of the room where my dear Didine lay 
 asleep ; I blessed you, and I prayed to God for you with 
 my whole heart. May you be happy, my daughter, 
 always happy ; and I shall be haj)py. I shall be with 
 you in two months. In the meanwhile, write to me; 
 your mother will tell you where. I embrace you over 
 and over again. V. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 237 
 
 I must thank you, my dear Charles, for making her 
 so happy. The day I spent with you enchanted me. 
 I saw my daughter made happy by you, and you by 
 her. Kemember, my children, this is the true paradise. 
 Live in it both of you till death. 
 
 I leave for the south to-day. My wife will tell you 
 about the business and bothers which kept me eight 
 mortal days in Paris. In two months we shall all be 
 together again. Be happy during that time ; it is all 
 I ask of you. 
 
 My kindest regards to your good brother, and my 
 respectful compliments to Mme. Lefevre. If God 
 rewarded her as she deserves, she would be as happy 
 as you are. 
 
 My love to you, dear Charles. V. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Biarritz, 26th July, [1843]. 
 
 I can look at the sea here as I can at Havre, but 
 without you, my beloved daughter. I walk on the 
 beach, I admire the fine rocks, but you are not here to 
 walk vrith me, or admire with me. I do not feel the 
 gentle pressure of your arm on mine. Nature is always 
 beautiful, my child, but it has no meaning when those 
 we love are absent. 
 
 I came here by sea from La RocheUe, and as I note 
 for your mother's benefit, when I reached Biarritz I read 
 in some papers that I was at Bordeaux, and in others 
 that I was in Switzerland. 
 
 I could spend the rest of my life here, if only you 
 were all with me, it is such a charming place ; sea and 
 sky, a beautiful rocky coast-line, which makes the rising 
 
238 THE LETTEES OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 tide look just like a storm. But none of you are with 
 me, and I am quite at a loss. I am working very bard, 
 which occupies my mind if it does not fill my heart. 
 
 Give my love to your dear husband, and write to me, 
 my darling child. Your mother will give you my 
 address. My kind regards to Mme. Lefevre. My love 
 to Auguste Yacquerie. I embrace you again and 
 again. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 San-Sebastian, 31st July, [1843]. 
 
 You are now one of my children, my dear Charles, 
 and so I am writing to you to-day. I am in Spain, if 
 the province of Biscay can be called Spain. The coun- 
 try is beautiful, but there are an enormous number of 
 fleas. When you go to bathe, you bring them back 
 from the sea. 
 
 I hope you are all well at Havre, and that my little 
 " Madame " continues to be the prettiest and happiest 
 Havraise in the world. I hope your brother Auguste 
 is writing by the seashore those fine poems with which 
 nature, in her grand aspects, inspires a mind like his. I 
 hope Mme. Lefevre is spending the summer near you, 
 and finding peace and consolation. In a word, I hope 
 that God is vouchsafing to you all that I ask of Him 
 for you, — health, happiness, prosperity, and joy. 
 
 My best love to you, Y. 
 
 I am finishing to you, my darling daughter, the 
 letter begun to your husband. I do not seem to be 
 changing my correspondent. You two are one in 
 heart. 
 
 Inclosed you will find two drawings ; one is for you. 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 239 
 
 the otlier for Toto. You must each choose the one 
 you like. Next time I will send one to Dede. I beg 
 her to excuse me till then. My eyes are still rather bad, 
 and besides, the beautiful Spanish sky has been hidden 
 by a good deal of mist the last four days, and these 
 two drawinofs show the effect of it. 
 
 I hope you are having fine weather down at Havre. 
 I am studying the Basque language, and I walk on the 
 beach. I never see the waves breaking on the sand at 
 my feet at nightfall, without thinking that there is only 
 a pond between you and me. Alas ! this pond is the 
 ocean. However, my journey is most interesting. It 
 is just the time to see Spain. I am keeping up my 
 diary. You shall read it all some day. 
 
 Go on writing to Paris. And here is a kiss for you, 
 my own darling daughter. 
 
 1st August. 
 
 I have just heard that the post in this wild country 
 does not leave for France till to-morrow, the 2d of 
 August. So I re-open my letter, and take the opportu- 
 nity of writing you a few more lines. A bit of paper 
 to fill up is like a few moments' respite before saying 
 good-by. It is too good a chance to be neglected. Let 
 us have a few minutes' more chat, then, my darling 
 little daughter. I think I see your sweet eyes fixed on 
 me, and seeming to say — Yes, dear daddy ! 
 
 But while I go on like this, my paper is getting filled 
 up ; I have only a small space left. Tell your dear 
 mother I have just written to Charles. I ho]ie the end 
 of the year will bring him success. Dear child, I wish 
 the next six weeks were over, and that I had you all 
 together in my arms and on my knees. 
 
240 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 One of the two drawings represents Port du Passage, 
 a delightful place about two leagues from here. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 ToLOSA, QtJi August, [1843]. 
 
 On sitting down to write, I say to myself, it is Dede's 
 turn to-day, so I write to Dede, then I write to Didine, 
 then I write to Toto. It is always everybody's turn. 
 You see, my darling daughter, a letter without a line 
 for you would not really reflect my heart. I am always 
 thinking of you, and so I must always write to you. 
 
 I am continuing my journey in a wonderful and little 
 known country. I was the first to say that Spain was 
 another China. I am ashamed to visit such a small 
 corner of it, and to leave it so quickly. One would 
 want not days, but weeks, not weeks, but months, not 
 months, but years, to see it properly. I have only seen 
 a few mountains, and I am astounded. 
 
 I will tell you all about this, my beloved daughter, 
 when I am at Havre, and when you come to Paris. It 
 will be the subject of om' after-dinner talks, you know, 
 — those pleasant talks which were one of the delights 
 of my life. We will have some more. For though I 
 am quite content that you should be happy without me, 
 I cannot be happy without you. I embrace your hus- 
 band, then you, then him, and you once more. V. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 PiERREFiTTE, 15tJi August, [1843]. 
 
 If you could have seen me, my darling daughter, 
 when I opened your letter, you would have been pleased, 
 I know, for I feel how much you love me. I should like 
 
TO HIS CHILDREN. 241 
 
 you to have witnessed my joy. I had been so long 
 without news of you all ! 
 
 You are right. God ought to bring Havre and the 
 Place Koyale to Biarritz. The sky and sea are in 
 perfect beauty there, and we should be enjoying perfect 
 happiness. 
 
 I am now in the Pyrenees — another wonderful coun- 
 try. I am going to drink some sulphur waters for the 
 rheumatism I suffered from last year. All my time, 
 however, is spent in admiration. How beautiful nature 
 is ! One cannot move from one place to another with- 
 out being in raptures at every step. The day before 
 yesterday I saw the sea, yesterday I saw Spain, and 
 to-day I see the mountains. All are equally beautiful, 
 but in different ways. 
 
 Let us admire, my darling daughter, but let us re- 
 member that it is better to love than to admire. Above 
 all, let us love. I need not say this to you, who are 
 surrounded with every kind of love. Tell your Charles 
 I was dehghted with his little note. I know he has a 
 noble heart and a lofty mind. You will always under- 
 stand each other. To understand one another is to love 
 one another. I embrace you with the fondest affection. 
 In a month ! 
 
 Continue to write to Paris. My love to Auguste 
 Vacquerie. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 Luz, 25^^ August, [1843]. 
 
 I have described in a letter to your mother, my 
 darling daughter, the tour I am making in these moun- 
 tains. On the back of this letter I am sending you a 
 rougli sketch, which will give you an idea of what I 
 
 VOL. I. IG 
 
242 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 see every day ; it all strikes me as beautiful, and would 
 seem far more so, dear child, if I saw it with you. You 
 wiD be surprised to hear that the sort of ruin you see 
 at the foot of the mountain is not a ruin but a rock. 
 The Pyrenees are full of these curious boulders which 
 look like ruined buildings. The Pyrenees themselves, 
 by the way, are simply one enormous ruined edifice. 
 The two white patches you see in the middle of the 
 mountains are snow. On some of the Pyrenean moun- 
 tams, and on the Yignemale especiaUy, snow finds its 
 level like the ocean. 
 
 I am drinking- the waters, but my eyes are still bad. 
 It is true, I work very hard, I may say unceasingly. 
 But that IS my life. Working is doing somethino- for 
 you all. ^ 
 
 You have now two Charlies to make you happy. 
 In a short time you will have your father as weU. So 
 contmue to get fatter, to be merry, and to keep well. 
 Be hapi^y, my child. You are just the age for it. 
 
 I have begged your mother to remember me to Mme 
 Lefevre and Mme. Regnauld. I send you and your 
 Charles my fondest love. 
 
 Write nowto^^osife restante, La Eochelle. 
 ^ Remind your dear mother, who is a Httle absent at 
 times, that she must write to me in future to La 
 Eochelle. 
 
<» *-^ . / 
 
 >»-->. .«• tX, ' A^ 
 
 : /I Ot^fA o/^ ./^ 
 
 --•s t.*-»/ 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 I. ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLOKAUX, 1819-1823. 
 
 To M. PixAUD, Permanent Secretary to the Academie des Jeux 
 
 Floraux, Toidouse. 
 
 I. 
 
 Paris, 2^tli March, 1819. 
 
 Dear Sir, — The flattering news you give me, and 
 your still more flattering letter, have caused me very 
 great pleasure, which, however, would have been still 
 greater if the decisions of the Academy had been more 
 favorable to my brother. However severe they must 
 have appeared to him, I must do him the justice to 
 acknowledge that he never complained of them for one 
 moment, and that he was the first to recognize their 
 equity ; he begs me, dear sir, to thank you in his name 
 for the encomiums and encouragement which you are 
 kind enough to bestow on him. His ode on the Duke 
 of Enghien, which he is now endeavoring to make more 
 worthy of the Academy, will doubtless prove to you 
 how eagerly he responds to your request. 
 
 As for me, dear sir, I am as much overcome by the ^ 
 indulgence shown me by the Academy as I am iilled 
 witli gratitude for the signal proofs of it witli which I 
 have been lionored. Be so good as to assure your col- 
 leagues that I look on then- approbation rather as an 
 
244 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 encouragement than as a reward, and that in future 
 all my efforts will be directed towards rendering myself 
 worthy of the glorious palm-leaves they have been 
 pleased to award me, and which I feel I am still far 
 from deserving. If time permits me, I shall try to 
 prove how anxious I am to make the two prize poems 
 as nearly perfect as possible, by scrupulously assenting 
 to their criticism. As the opportunity offers, I think 
 it right, dear sir, to communicate to you the corrections 
 which I have abeady been able to make, or to which I 
 think I can show good reasons for objecting. 
 
 La Retciblissement de la Statue cle Uenri IV. 
 
 1st Strojyhe. — I shall perhaps be obhged to leave 
 the word "^:)z^is ; " the only word that I know of to 
 replace it is " ensuite" and " ensidte " is very prosaic. 
 The conjunction " e^ " would, I think, unite the two 
 portions of the sentence too closely. 
 
 2d Strophe, — The only right version is " Sylla 
 detrone Marius ; " a few lines further on comes " Muti- 
 lait Vairain renverse,^^ 
 
 *dd Strojjhe. — For the two verses objected to, one 
 might substitute these : — 
 
 Trajan domine encor les champs que de Tib^re 
 Couvrent les temples abattus. 
 
 And, as it happens, Trajan's column rises near the site 
 of the Sacrum Tiheriniim and the Via Caprcensis. 
 
 One could get rid of " souvent, quand, dans " by 
 saying, — 
 
 Souvent, dans les horreurs des discordes civiles 
 Quand I'effroi planait sur les villes, 
 Aux cris des peuples rdvoltds, etc. 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 215 
 
 4ctli Strophe. — To prove the fact in natural history 
 which is the basis of the comparison objected to, I 
 extract the following from the 12th note to M. Plu- 
 mier's Observations zoologiques. 
 
 He [M. Lemonnier] again states as a fact what some contempo- 
 rary naturalists have regarded merely as an effort of his imagination. 
 According to him, the tiger of the deserts of the Sahara and of Beria, 
 not satisfied luith having devoured its victims^ vents his fury on the 
 shadow of their skeletons. To this it was thoughtlessly objected 
 that as the shadow of a body cannot present any appearance of 
 life, it is as absurd to imagine a tiger falling upon a shadow as on a 
 stone or the trunk of a tree. The son of the celebrated Borda, a 
 traveler who can be trusted, confirms our naturalist's assertion, not 
 only from what he has observed himself, but by a reflection simple 
 and yet profound, as it had hitherto escaped the notice of other 
 savans. " I have seen," says M. de Borda, " African tigers brought 
 to Damascus and shut up in the vast arena at Magid-Patar, devour- 
 ing with revolting ferocity oxen and hyenas that had been given to 
 them alive, and, having satisfied their first hunger, spending whole 
 days in watching the shadow of the fleshless skeletons of these 
 animals. It is probable that the play of the shadoiv gave in the 
 eyes of the tigers a semblance of life to what had lost all semblance 
 of bodily shape. This explains," etc., etc. 
 
 I hope, clear sir, to have the honor of sending you 
 the remaining corrections with my brother's ode on the 
 Dulve of Enghien. 
 
 I am obliged to you, dear sir, for having been so 
 good as to acquaint me with the fate of the Bcrnkrs 
 harden and the Canadlenne, In obtaining the honor 
 of a reading, tliese two compositions obtain even more 
 than I expected of them. 
 
 You bog me, dear sir, to decide at once between the 
 flowers or tlicir pecuniary value. I prefer the flowers ; 
 they will always remind me o£ the indulgence of the 
 
246 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Academy^ which, in awarding the prize to me, no doubt 
 thought more of my extreme youthfulness than of my 
 slender capacity. 
 
 Accept, dear sir, the expression of the very deep 
 gratitude and respect with which I have the honor to 
 remain your most obedient humble servant, 
 
 V. M. Hugo. 
 
 II. 
 
 Paris, 9th April, 1819. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have the honor to send you such of 
 the corrections pointed out as I am now able to accept. 
 The passages which I have not been able to change 
 are few in number, and I venture to hope that if I have 
 not complied with the Academy on some points, it is 
 not for lack of good will or readiness to be taught. 
 Their indulgence has been too great, the marks of it 
 have been too flattering for me not to have exerted all 
 my feeble abilities to make myself worthy both of the 
 one and of the other. 
 
 I do not flatter myself that I have been equally 
 successful in every point. But I must confess, and you 
 perhaps will not be surprised at it, dear sir, that it has 
 given me more trouble to touch up these odes than to 
 compose them. That is the chief reason why I am 
 doubtful of the success of my work. When I hesitated 
 between two versions, I thouo^ht it rio^ht to submit them 
 both for the decision of the Academy. 
 
 I need not tell you, dear sir, that I am not at all anx- 
 ious that the other renderings which I send you should 
 be adopted. Should the Academy prefer the original 
 text, it would be doing me a real ser^dce in retaining it. 
 
 Pray accept the assurance of the respect with which 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 247 
 
 I have the honor to be, dear sir, your very obedient 
 humble servant, V. M. Hugo. 
 
 Le Betahllssement de la Statue de Henri IV, 
 
 2d Strophe, — 7th line, read " Sylla detrone Ma- 
 riusr 
 
 3cZ Stroi^lie. — For the 3d, 5th, and 6th Hnes sub- 
 stitute — 
 
 Trajan domine encor les champs que de Tib6re 
 
 Couvrent les temples abattus. 
 Souvent dans les horreurs des disc?i Jes civiles 
 
 Quand I'efProi planait sur les villes, 
 
 Aux oris des peuples revoltds, etc. 
 
 ^tli Stroi^lie, — To make the 7th line sound a little 
 less harsh, it might read — 
 
 Enleva sitot le tr^pas. 
 
 9^/i Stroj)lie, — Instead of the 5th and 6th lines 
 read — 
 
 D^sormais dans ses yeux, en volant :\ la gloire, 
 Kous viendrons puiser la victoire, etc. 
 
 We shall have got rid of the word " carnage,^'' but I 
 fear this new metaphor may be rather risky. 
 
 Wth Stroplie. — When composing it I noticed the 
 want of continuity in the ideas which the Academy has 
 remarked, ])ut not being able to remedy it I managed 
 to persuade myself that a lyric poet has the privilege of 
 leaving" the idea which had first struck him in this in- 
 complete state and of developing the next that presented 
 itself to his mind. But the just criticism of the Academy 
 made me reflect that a license of this kind would end in 
 mvin<r him the ri^'ht to be unintellic^ible. I have tried 
 once more to remove this blemish, but without success. 
 
248 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 and it is with much regret that I find myself obliged to 
 leave such a conspicuous defect uncorrected. 
 
 My reiterated endeavors to eliminate some of the 
 articles which abound in the last lines of the 18th 
 strophe have also been fruitless. I hope the Academy 
 will give me credit for them. 
 
 Ode siir les vierges de Vei^dnn. 
 
 Not having had time to condense the introduction to 
 this ode^ I was prepared to adduce Horace's ode in 
 defence of the interrogative form, — 
 
 Quo, quo, scelesti, ruitis ? 
 
 and the ode to Lydia, — 
 
 Lydia, die, per omnes 
 Te Deos oro, Sybarin cur properas amaudo 
 
 Perdere ? Cur apricum 
 Oderit campum, patieus pulveris atque solis, etc. 
 
 I think, however, it is more frank and more seemly to 
 admit how little I have succeeded in my attempts. 
 
 Bill Stro2^1ie» — I agreed with all the Academy, dear 
 sir, that the expression "Assassins, j^^9^8 a leur tour " 
 did not adequately develop the idea of assassins who sit 
 in judgment on others after having hved in dread of 
 judges so long themselves, but the time I have spent 
 and often wasted over the other corrections prevented 
 me from even thinking about this one. 
 
 Itli Stroiolie. — The following note might come 
 after it : — 
 
 Moreau took the fort of I'Ecluse on the island of Cazand from a 
 superior force of the enemy the very day on which his aged father 
 was led to the scaffold. Patriotism must indeed have had a strong 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 249 
 
 hold on the hearts of our soldiers to make them defend with such 
 heroic resignation a country in which their dearest interests were 
 daily betrayed in a disgraceful manner. Our army was fortunate 
 in always being free from the reproaches which were leveled against 
 our executioners. Do not let us forget that if it fought against its 
 king, tliis was in opposing a foreign invasion, and that, as an illus- 
 trious author has said, its sword, thrown in the balance, weighed 
 down the axe of the Revolution. 
 
 8th Strojyhe. — For the three first Hnes one of the 
 two following versions may be substituted : — 
 
 Quand nos phalanges mutilds 
 Jetant sur nos cypres I'ombre de leurs lauriers, 
 Reculaient vers Paris, par le uombre accabldes . . . 
 
 Quand nos chefs, entoures des amies dtrangeres 
 
 Couvrant nos cypres de lauriers. 
 Vers Paris lentement reportaient leurs baunieres . . . 
 
 lO^A Strophe. — In its stead, a choice can be made 
 between either of the two following strophes : — 
 
 Ce dernier trait suffit : leur bonte les condamne. 
 
 Mais non : I'arbitre de leur sort, 
 Tainville, k leur aspect brCdant d'un feu profane, 
 
 Tressaille d'un lionteux transport. 
 II veut, vierges, au prix d'un affreiix sacrifice, 
 En taisant vos bieufaits vous ravir au supplice. 
 
 II croit vos chastes cceurs par la crainte abattus ; 
 Du mdpris qui le couvre acceptez le partage ; 
 Souillez-vous d'un forfait ; I'infanie ardopage 
 
 Vous absoudra de vos vertus. 
 
 Quoi ! ce trait gloricux qui trabit leur belle ame 
 
 Sera done I'arrGt de leur mort. 
 Mais nou ! I'accusatcur (jue leur aspect enflammo 
 
 Tressaille d' un hontcux transport. 
 II veut, vierges, au prix d'un affrcux sacrifice, 
 En taisant vos bieufaits vous ravir au supplice. 
 
 II croit vos chastes cceurs par la crainte abattus. 
 De vos jours Tainville est I'arbitre. 
 Souillez-vous d'un forfait : le monstre i\ ce seul titro 
 
 Vous absoudra de vos vertus. 
 
250 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 11th Strophe, — Of the expressions ''un si noble 
 forfait, coiqyahle dej^itie/^ etc., which the Academy has 
 pointed out as aHke, I have only been able to strike 
 out " d' innocence accusees " (7th strophe) ; " Idchement 
 accusees " might be substituted for it ; this alteration 
 appeared to me more important than the others ; the 
 word " innocence " occurs two lines higher up. I am 
 afraid, too, that this expression is a plagiarism ; I have 
 seen somewhere or other two Hues in which something 
 like it occurs — 
 
 . . . I'enfant sans appui, le viellard sans ddfense, 
 Tombaient tons, convaiucus d'une meme innocence. 
 
 Finally, in the 13th strophe, '^ Charlotte cm cceiir 
 d^airain'^ may be substituted for "Charlotte ciu front 
 d'airainJ^ 
 
 III. 
 
 Paris, IGth June, 1819. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have taken the liberty of calling on 
 M. de Moncabrie, who has not yet received the copies 
 of the collection of poems you had so kindly intended 
 for us. Perhaps I ought to have waited to acknowledge 
 the receipt of them before answering your kind letter of 
 the 15th of May last ; but pray excuse my anxiety to 
 express our gratitude for the indulgent reception which 
 the Academy has given to our works, and for the kind- 
 ness with which you in particular have honored us. 
 
 Allow me to thank you, dear sir, in my brother's 
 name and my own, for the interest you take in us, an 
 interest which is perhaps more strikingly shown by 
 your critical remarks than by your praise, which quite 
 overcomes us because we feel how little it is deserved. 
 
 Pray believe that we shall endeavor to merit your 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 251 
 
 encomimns by taking advantage of your criticism, and 
 that if at some future time we should both of us be 
 fortunate enough to partly fulfill the hopes you enter- 
 tain of us, we should owe it to the Academie des Jeiix 
 Floraux, to you, dear sir, and to your generous encour- 
 agement. What is most praiseworthy about our slender 
 abilities is no doubt the direction in which we employ 
 them ; but the path which we wish to take is so beset with 
 obstacles for young authors, that we should perhaps 
 have been disheartened had we not been sustained by 
 the glorious approbation of the oldest Academy in the 
 kingdom. 
 
 If our names have the good fortune to appear again 
 in your academic ceremonies, we shall not forget your 
 flattering invitation ; and the pleasure of making your 
 acquaintance, and of telling you by word of mouth how 
 much we appreciate your kindness, will be not the least 
 inducement to us to undertake so agreeable a journey. 
 
 My mother has been much touched by your kind- 
 ness; she begs me to express her thanks to you. She 
 has known you, dear sir, by reputation, for some time, 
 and the last paragraph of your letter has added not a 
 little to the pleasure which our success has given her. 
 
 Pray accept the expression of the respect and grati- 
 tude with which I have the honor to remain, dear sir, 
 your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 V. M. Hugo. 
 
 IV. 
 
 18/7i April, 1820. 
 
 Dear Sir, — It was only the entreaties of some of 
 my friends that induced me to send the Academie des 
 Jeux Floraux the ode Moyse, the many imperfections 
 
252 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 of which I was the first to feel. In according an 
 amarantlie reservee to this work, the Academy has far 
 surpassed all my hopes, and I feel I ought to look on 
 this prize more as an encouragement than as a reward. 
 I take pleasure in acknowledging the justice of the criti- 
 cisms addressed to me, and besides, I think that in 
 finding fault with the absence of all lyric movement in 
 my ode the Academy might have detected one of the 
 reasons for it in the choice of the metre, which, with its 
 feminine terminations, is incapable of rendering with 
 marked effect the imposing imagery and the grand 
 thoughts which such a subject ought to have called 
 forth. This metre, which Andre de Chenier has em- 
 ployed with such success in his Jeitne captive, is no 
 doubt naturally melodious, but it is not sufficiently 
 solemn or sonorous for grand poetry. Here, then, is 
 another mistake of mine ; in adding this fresh criticism 
 to the very judicious observations of the Academy I may 
 be making a blunder, but I know I am acting frankly, 
 and I am sure you will not think the worse of me for 
 it. As to the points of detail, I regret that I have 
 no time to make my ode more worthy of the flattering 
 distinction which you have bestowed on it. I think, 
 however, that in the 1st strophe, " cJiastes ^^/az'sirs " 
 might be altered to "jeux innocents,'^ and in the 8th, 
 " Ses 7nalheiirs ont emu mon amour "to " Ses mal- 
 heurs eveillent mon amour/^ if you think these cor- 
 rections are admissible. I repeat, I regret that I 
 have not the time ; if I had I would have endeavored, 
 by a searching revision of my ode, to make myself 
 worthier of your distinguished approbation. As this 
 is impossible, I can only beg you, dear sir, to convey 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 253 
 
 my excuses and my warm acknowledgments to your 
 colleao'ues. 
 
 If the idyl of the Two Ages could have obtained a 
 prize, it would have been a great pleasure and a great 
 honor to me ; but, as it is, I can only bow with respect 
 to the decision which prevented it from achieving this 
 distinction. 
 
 I now, dear sir, come to a point on which I wish to 
 state my views quite openly, while being anxious to 
 obtain your approval. You tell me that I have now, 
 according to your rules, acquired the right to apply for 
 the degree of 3IaUre es Jeux Floraux. I refrain from 
 inquiring how I acquired this right, and whether I do 
 not owe it rather to the continued indidgence shown me 
 by the Academy than to my own merit. I have only to 
 tell you my feeling on the subject, and I think my duty 
 (and never w411 a duty ha-ve been fulfilled with greater 
 pleasure) is to claim this distinction, to which the 
 Academy has allowed me to aspire, with all the eager- 
 ness and gratitude which I feel under the circmn- 
 stances. I might, it is true, retain the right to compete 
 by putting off my application; but, on the one hand, 
 if I am accustomed to the a'reat kindness of the Acad- 
 emy, I am not so presumptuous or self-confident as to 
 have much hope of success if I remain on the lists ; 
 and, on the other hand, as the lyric competitions are 
 now closed to me, T am not sure whether the fruitless 
 attempts I have hitherto made in other styles are not a 
 warning to me to leave the ranks. I must add to these 
 considerations the wish, which 1 have entertained for a 
 long time, but have hitherto concealed, to belong to the 
 illustrious society of the Jeux Floraux. 
 
254 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Now that the opportunity offers to join you as 
 mattre, I feel more strongly than ever how far too 
 great this title is for my age and for my poor abilities, 
 but at the same time I feel that if you thought fit to 
 confer it on me, the honor of bearing it would compel 
 me in a measure to do my best to be worthy of it. I 
 therefore venture to beg you, dear sir, if you see fit, to 
 convey my respectful wishes to the Academy, and to 
 apply to it in my name for a degree which I shall highly 
 prize if I obtain it, as it will constantly remind me how 
 much I owe to you personally and to your colleagues. I 
 do not know if I ought to send a more direct applica- 
 tion to the Academy, but I ho^DC that in case you can- 
 not undertake it, you will be so kind as to let me know. 
 
 I am particularly flattered, dear sir, that my odes 
 on La Vendee and the terrible crime of February 13 
 have given you some pleasure. In sending you my 
 attempts, I am only discharging a very pleasant duty, 
 and I shall be glad if you will continue to give me your 
 opinion. I have now the honor to forward you two 
 copies of a satire, now somewhat out of date, but which, 
 at the time it appeared (October, 1819), was considered 
 a proof of courage if not of talent in Paris. I have 
 sent with it the first number of the Conservateiir litte- 
 raire. In this work, which I am helping to edit, you 
 will see the expression of approbation which His Ma- 
 jesty condescended to give me on the occasion of the 
 ode I wrote on the death of the Duke of Berri. I 
 think the Conservateiir litter aire may be useful, and I 
 hope that you will think so too when you have read it. 
 Thank you for the friendly remark at the end of your 
 kind letter. I have every reason to believe that our 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 255 
 
 Conservateury the success of which appears assured in 
 the capital, will now circulate in the departments^ and 
 in that case I shall take special care that it reaches 
 yoiu' province, which is now perhaps the only one that 
 has retained its love of letters and devotion to the 
 monarchy intact. I must end this too long letter by 
 congratulating you, dear sir, in my turn, on the address 
 sent by your cour royale on the horrible assassination 
 of the Duke of Berri ; it made an excellent impression 
 here ; it was singled out among all the addresses of the 
 other towns in the kingdom, and everybody knows that 
 the loyal sentiments with which your cour royale is 
 animated are shared by the good town of Toulouse and 
 the noble Academie des Jeiix Floraux. With the 
 most respectful gratitude, I have the honor to be, dear 
 sir, etc., V. M. Hugo. 
 
 P. S. — My brother Eugene, who has been pre- 
 vented by ill health from competing this year, but who 
 hopes to try again in 1821, begs me to remember him 
 to you, and to convey you his respects. Having ob- 
 tained an amaranthe in 1819, I have decided this year 
 to take, instead of the flower, the sum of money which 
 the Academy gives me the option of receiving. If 
 there are any formalities to be complied with in respect 
 to this, I hope you will be good enough to acquaint me 
 with them. 
 
 V. 
 
 \2lst May, 1820]. 
 
 Deak Sir, — I eagerly avail myself of my first 
 leisure moments to answer your kind letter, and to ])eg 
 you to convey to the Academy my warm and respect- 
 
256 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ful thanks for having admitted me to the degree of 
 Maitre es Jeux Florcmx, Pardon me for repeating 
 the same thing so often, but the repeated proofs of the 
 consideration shown me by the Academy give me the 
 right, indeed, I may say, make it my duty, to do so. 
 Rest assured, dear sir, that I shall gladly discharge all 
 the duties which my new position entails on me. Before 
 long, when I have grasped the full extent of them, by 
 studying the useful book by M. Poite^an which you 
 have been good enough to send me (a mark of atten- 
 tion which much pleased me), I shall have the honor of 
 writing to you on the subject, and I shall do my best 
 to make the Academy satisfied, if not with my ability, 
 at all events with my zeal. 
 
 We have been much flattered by the opinion you 
 have expressed of the Conservateur litter ah^e. As the 
 perusal of it has given you pleasure, I beg you, on 
 behalf of myself and of my colleagues, to accept our 
 pubhcation. I will take care that it reaches you regu- 
 larly. You will have seen in the third number of the 
 second volume that I had inserted an extract from your 
 programme, in accordance with your wish. I regret 
 there was not enough space for a more detailed account 
 of the proceedings of the Academy. I think the sub- 
 ject will be mentioned again. I have asked several 
 journalists with whom I am connected to insert the 
 heads of the programme in their papers, and they have 
 promised to do so as soon as the immense amount of po- 
 litical matter will allow of it. As far as the Conserva- 
 teur litteraire is concerned, I beg you will not hesitate 
 to make use of me if I can be of any service to you. 
 You will greatly honor me by often treating me as a 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 257 
 
 confrere. Whenever you wish to pubHsh any advertise- 
 ments, or the report of the proceedings o£ the Academy, 
 I can assure you your wishes shall be carried out, and 
 it will be a real pleasure to us to comply with them. 
 
 My brother Eugene, whose health is still uncertain, 
 begs me to present his compliments to you, and to 
 thank you- for your kind and flattering invitation. He 
 was much distressed at the illness which prevented him 
 from competing this year, and he hopes by next year to 
 have recovered his strength sufficiently to be able to 
 enter the noble lists you have thrown open to him. It 
 has become a duty which he will be happy to discharge, 
 especially if he can do it worthily. 
 
 I cannot thank you enough, dear sir, on my own 
 account, for your kind attention in sending me the 
 value of the prize in a draft on Paris. All the marks 
 of kindness which I have received from you up to now 
 touch me more than I can say. I have the honor to 
 inclose the declaration you asked me for, and with the 
 deepest feelings of respect and gratitude, I beg you 
 will Ijelieve me to be always your most obedient humble 
 servant, V. M. Hugo. 
 
 P. S. — I do not know if you have received the two 
 first numbers of vol. ii. regularly. If you have not 
 done so, pray draw my attention to it in the ilrst letter 
 you will do me the honor of writing to me, and I will 
 send them on to you. 
 
 VI. 
 
 2Wi October, 1820. 
 
 Dear Sir, — Allow me to remind you of my exist- 
 ence by sending you some copies of an ode that I have 
 
 VOL. I. 17 
 
258 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 just published on the death of the Duke of Bordeaux, 
 and which you may have read by now in the Conser- 
 vateur litteraire, I am most anxious that this ode 
 should not appear to you unworthy of the approbation 
 which you have sometimes bestowed on me. I owe 
 everything to the Academie des Jeux Floraux, and 
 it will always be a pleasure to me to make public 
 acknowledgment of it, as I shall always consider it a 
 duty to endeavor to deserve the many favors it has 
 showered on me. 
 
 M. Alexandre Soumet has been here for some time, 
 and has told me a great deal about the interest which 
 the Academy is good enough to take in my efforts, and 
 the flattering sentiments which you, dear sir, in par- 
 ticular entertain towards me. I had recourse to M. 
 Soumet's advice in correcting this new ode, and I am 
 much indebted to his friendly assistance. He read part 
 of his tragedy of Oreste to me ; the fifth act is really 
 admirable. I hope very much that the business which 
 brought him to Paris may be settled to his satisfaction ; 
 and still more, that his tragedy may be well acted, for 
 if I wish him success in money matters, I must be still 
 more concerned for his literary fame : a poet cannot 
 take this amiss. 
 
 As for me, dear sir, the next ode I write will be for 
 the Academy ; and if, in accordance mth my wish, you 
 will consent to read it at one of your meetings, it will 
 to a certain extent be protected by the celebrity of the 
 society of the Jeux Floraiix. I cannot promise you 
 that the new-comer will be worthy of the welcome you 
 will be good enough to give it, but I promise to use 
 every effort to make it so. 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 259 
 
 I hope, decar sir, that you will continue to treat me 
 with the kindliness of which you have already given me 
 so many tokens, and for which I am deeply grateful. I 
 beg you to excuse this untidy letter, written in great 
 haste, and to believe in the feelings of high esteem and 
 respectful consideration with which I have the honor to 
 be, dear sir, etc., V. M. Hugo. 
 
 P. S. — As I am not sure if the secretary of the 
 Conservateiir litteraire has carried out the order I gave 
 him, to send you some copies of my ode to M. de 
 Chateaubriand, I have put a few in the packet which I 
 have the honor of forwarding to you. 
 
 VII. 
 
 2Sth March, 1821. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I value your letters so highly that it 
 is a source of gfreat reofret to me that I cannot write 
 to you oftener, so as to receive your kind answers more 
 frequently ; but, unfortunately for me, I have not so 
 much leisure as good will, which, in depriving me of a 
 pleasure I appreciate so highly, has the advantage of 
 protecting you from an importunity. 
 
 You have doubtless been surprised, dear sir, that my 
 brother Eugene has not responded to the invitation you 
 so kindly sent him. But I assure you it is only his bad 
 health which prevented him from entering the lists in 
 wliich you were good enougli to abnost promise him a 
 victory. It has been a great disappointment to him 
 to forego the pleasure of celebrating the illustrious 
 Malesherbes, and the honor of competing for your 
 beautiful wreaths. 
 
260 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 As for me, dear sir, to whom these wreaths have 
 been awarded with an indulo^ence which overwhehns me 
 as much as it honors me, I am endeavoring to become 
 less unworthy of the distinction which the Academy 
 has been good enough to confer on me by admitting 
 me among its mattres at my age. This signal and un- 
 merited favor is a great encouragement and a great 
 obligation. I feel this with apprehension in sending 
 you a new ode on the frightful treason of Quiberon. 
 It was written for the Academy ; I have therefore 
 always refused to publish it, or to allow any isolated 
 stanzas to appear in the papers. I wanted your Hecueil 
 to have it before any one else, if (and I should be 
 pleased were this the case) you consider that it can be 
 read at your brilliant meeting of the 3d of May without 
 spoiling the effect of the seance too much. 
 
 Apropos of the meeting of the 3d of May, allow 
 me, dear sir, to refer to the competitions. I take the 
 liberty of specially drawing your enlightened attention 
 to an Ode sitr les troubles actuels cle VEuroj)e, to an 
 elegy entitled Spncetha, and to another elegy, Le Con- 
 vol de Vemigre, all of which appear to me to show 
 some talent. I should be glad if these works could 
 obtain some recognition ; I should be even more glad 
 than their authors, on account of the affection I have 
 for them. I also thouo- lit there was a s^reat deal of wit 
 in an essay on Les genres classique et romantiqiie, 
 which bears the motto, JRien de nouveau sous le soleil, 
 and some pretty lines in a poem entitled Sur Venfance 
 d'' Henri IV, 
 
 Pray forgive my presumption in recommending my 
 friends ; I know by experience that if an appeal is made 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 261 
 
 to your justice you are always ready to respond with 
 iudulo'ence. Some one has said that one's affection for 
 a person may be measured by the length of one's letters 
 to him. I hope, therefore, that you will excuse the 
 length of this one, for you must know the deep and 
 unvarying attachment with which I have the honor to 
 be, dear su*, etc., Victor M. Hugo. 
 
 My address is altered. I am now living at 10 Rue 
 Mezieres (Faubourg Saint-Germain). M. Soumet begs 
 to be remembered to you ; but a poet like Alexandre 
 Soumet has no need of being remembered to any one. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 [Uth July, 1821.] 
 
 My Dear Colleague, — I have been prevented from 
 answering your letter before by a long period of anxiety, 
 ending in a terrible calamity of which you have doubt- 
 less read in the papers, — a calamity for which there 
 is no consolation but in heaven, and no hope but in 
 death. My mother died in my arms after a long illness. 
 If you have any regard for me, pity me, excuse this 
 short letter, and believe in the unaltered attachment 
 and gratitude of your most obedient humble servant 
 and colleague, Victor M. IIu(JO. 
 
 I hope soon to have the courage to write to you at 
 greater lengtli. I will then thank you for the counter 
 which you were good enougli to send me by M. Hoccjuart. 
 ]\I. Soumet and his brother beg to be remembered to 
 you. 
 
262 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Paris, 14,th August, 1821. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — I should not forgive myself 
 for not having answered your letter sooner, with its 
 expressions of condolence that I prize so highly, if I 
 had not been seriously unwell and obliged to go into 
 the country for a short time, immediately after having 
 executed the commission to M. de Chateaubriand w^hich 
 you gave me on behalf of the Academy. It is for me, 
 dear sir, to thank you warmly for having been good 
 enouofh to confide this mission to me. This fresh con- 
 nection has in a way strengthened my friendship with 
 the illustrious peer, and this is another thmg which I 
 have to thank you for. 
 
 I am not less indebted to you for all the tender and 
 dehcate expressions of feeling contained in your letter. 
 They touched me most deeply. In my irreparable 
 calamity, a friendship such as yours is a consolation to 
 me, and I am proud of the intimacy existing between 
 us which makes us love and understand each other 
 without having met or spoken to each other. Should 
 you ever (which God forbid !) have a great personal 
 sorrow, I hope you may find a friend like yourself, for 
 the only point in which I can compare with you is my 
 affection for you. 
 
 M. de Chateaubriand accepted his diploma in the 
 most graceful way, and told me that he would write 
 and thank the Academy. All lovers of literature 
 congratulate the Academy on this glorious acquisition. 
 If I may say so, I agree with you in thinking that it 
 had been postponed somewhat too long. 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 2G3 
 
 Farewell, my dear friend ; I have sufficient confidence 
 in your indulgence to send you this illegible letter. I 
 wanted to write to you as soon as I was able to hold 
 a pen. I am still weak, and have only strength enough 
 to love you. 
 
 I have the honor to be, wdth the highest esteem and 
 the most complete devotion, your most obedient humble 
 servant and colleague, Victor M. Hugo. 
 
 X. 
 
 Paris, 2M October, 1822. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — Your kind letter came 
 upon me as a gentle surprise in a moment of happiness. 
 I have always highly valued the proofs of your kind 
 friendship, and when I received this last token of it, 
 it gave me all the greater pleasure because it seemed 
 as if a part of yourself, my dear friend, was a witness 
 of my felicity. 
 
 I am anxious to be the first to tell you that I am 
 married, that I have just been united to the sweetest, 
 tlie most anofelic, and the most beloved of women. You 
 have contributed to what you are good enough to call 
 my success, you sympathized with me in my sorrow, 
 and I have no doubt that you will also rejoice Avith me 
 in my happiness. 
 
 I am glad that the collection of poems interested 
 you, and still more, that the opinions which you express 
 so gracefully coincide witli mine. I hope that when the 
 second edition of these odes a])pears, which will be before 
 long, they will be more deserving of your attention, dear 
 sir, and of that of all the enlightened men to whose 
 approbation I aspire. 
 
264 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I am aware that M. de Resseguier has been in Paris 
 for four or five days ; he came to call on me, and I was 
 stupid enough and unlucky enough to be out at the 
 time. I hope, however, to see him soon, and I shall 
 have much pleasure in giving him your message. 
 
 This amiable colleague of ours will doubtless be able 
 to give you details of Clytemnestre much better than I 
 can, but I may tell you that this fine play is to be acted 
 at the end of the month, that it will be followed im- 
 mediately by Saul at the second theatre, and that these 
 two splendid works will give our good colleague. Sou- 
 met, a great and unique reputation. In making this 
 prophecy I am in no way inspired by friendship. 
 
 Farewell then : accept once more my thanks for the 
 very great pleasure your letters give me, and believe, 
 dear sir, that my most highly prized distinction will 
 always be that of styHng myself your colleague, your 
 servant and friend, Victor H. 
 
 M. Soumet, to whom I have shown your kind letter, 
 thanks you and loves you as I do, but not more than 
 I do. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Paris, 11th December, 1822. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — Pray forgive me for not 
 having yet answered your charming letter, which brought 
 something of your friendship into the midst of my newly 
 found felicity, and made me feel that one of the greatest 
 honlieurs du honheur, if one may use the expression, is 
 to see it shared in by one's friends. 
 
 To-day, dear sir, I am fortunate enough to have the 
 pleasure of asking you to do me a service, as well as 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 265 
 
 that of thaiilving you for a cliarming letter. You have 
 perhaps forgotten that you have a confrere who is also 
 a conscrlt ; do not laugh at this jingle of words, I will 
 explain it. As I was born at the beginning of the year 
 1802, I really form one of the annual levy of forty 
 thousand men. 
 
 It is true that I have good grounds for exemption, 
 and you can no doubt guess what they are, my dear 
 colleague, but tedious formalities, for which I beg you 
 to excuse their authors, obHge me to ask you to plead 
 my cause to some extent. 
 
 The recruiting law grants exemption from military 
 service to all persons who have won one of the principal 
 prizes at the Institute, including the^^rix cVhonneiir de 
 r Universite. The omission by the legislature of the 
 prizes of the second academy in the kingdom is repaired 
 by the spirit of the law, and from the information I 
 have obtained I am certain that a favorable construction 
 has been placed on this paragraph of the law, on the 
 application of permanent secretaries for prizes given 
 by much less important academies than that of the Jcux 
 Floraux. I venture to hope, then, from the extreme 
 kindness of which you have given me so many proofs, 
 that you Avill be good enough to claim for me the right 
 of exemption which the three wreaths bestowed on me 
 by tlie indulgence of the Academy confer on me, the 
 valued wreaths to wlilcli I owe the honor, so ill-suited 
 to my age and my small ability, of being a member of 
 it ; you will be pleading the cause of the Academy even 
 more than mine, my dear colleague, you will be defend- 
 ing its prerogatives, for the law could hardly grant 
 greater privileges to a mere laureate of the Institute, or 
 
266 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 of the University even, than to a member of one of the 
 oldest and most illustrious Hterary societies in Europe. 
 This is the service which I shall have to add to all the 
 obligations which I owe you already. If you are good 
 enough to make this application, as permanent secre- 
 tary of the Academy, you must send it to the Home 
 Secretary {bureau des academies) ; it will be sent on 
 to the War Office {bureau du recrutement), and I am 
 assured that it will be successful there. 
 
 Pray forgive me for all the trouble I am gi^'ing you, 
 and let me know how you are getting on. Is Toulouse 
 very proud of her Soumet ? Kesseguier, who is as kind 
 as his letters, will give you all the details of it that you 
 may wish. I am going to send the Academy a copy 
 of the collection of poems of which you formed such 
 an indulgent opinion ; please apologize for me to our 
 colleagues for the incorrigible carelessness of my pub- 
 lisher. I am preparing a second edition, with some 
 alterations and corrections. There is only one thing in 
 me which cannot change, and that is my tender affection 
 for those I love, and especially for you, my dear, good 
 colleague. 
 
 Your most devoted friend and servant, 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 My wife was much pleased with your kind messages, 
 and begs me to thank you for them. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Paris, %th January, 1823. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — What pleases me most in 
 the important service you have just so kindly rendered 
 
ACADEMIE DES JEUX FLORAUX. 267 
 
 me is the fact that it was rendered by you. For a long 
 time I have fallen into the pleasant habit of being 
 indebted to you, and all I can wish for now is to have 
 the good fortune of being able to serve you sometimes 
 in return. I was much gratified by your kind thought 
 in sending me your appHcation on my behalf, and quite 
 overcome by all the expressions of kindness and praise 
 with w^hich your friendship inspired you for the least 
 worthy of your colleagues. 
 
 I have just pubHshed the second edition of my odes, 
 with additions and corrections. I have told my pub- 
 lisher to send you two copies ; one of these I hope you 
 will be kind enough to accept from me, and the other 
 I beg you to present to the Academy on my behalf. 
 
 I have reason to believe that the competition for the 
 Jeux Floraux this year will be a brilliant one. I have 
 seen several of the compositions which are to be sent to 
 you, and I can assure you that your fine wTcaths will 
 be the reward of some fine volumes. 
 
 M. Soumet and M. Kesseguier beg me, my dear 
 colleague, to convey to you on their behalf all that I 
 feel for you, that is to say, the w^armest, tenderest, 
 and sincerest feelings that esteem and attachment can 
 inspire. Victor Hugo. 
 
 My wife thanks you, as I do, for all the kind 
 messages to her in your letter. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Gextilly, Wi June, 1823. 
 
 My dear Colleague, — Our good friend Jules de 
 Resseguier has shown me your letter, and I was much 
 
268 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 touclied by the kind and affectionate messages for me 
 in it. I was not less sensible of the kind feeling that 
 prompted you to mention my name at your memorable 
 meeting ; you wished that some of the glory conferred 
 on the old fete des fleurs by the presence of an illus- 
 trious spectator might be reflected on me. I thank you 
 for this. You have touched my heart even more than 
 you have flattered my pride. 
 
 Please let me know if you have received the second 
 edition of my odes, as well as an indifferent work in 
 four volumes entitled Hem (Tlslande, Some time ago 
 I told my former publisher, Persan, to forward you these 
 works, which I was also sending to the Academy. He 
 has since become bankrupt, and having discovered 
 several cases in which he had neglected to carry out my 
 orders, I should like to make sure that yours was not 
 amono^ the number. 
 
 Farewell, my good colleague ; my wife, who is going 
 on well, shares the deep feeling of sincere affection felt 
 for you by your most humble servant and unworthy 
 colleague; Victor Hugo. 
 
11. ADDITIONAL LETTERS TO VARIOUS 
 
 PERSONS. 
 
 I. 
 
 To M. Raynouaed, Perpetual Secretary of the French Academy. 
 
 Paris, 2>lst August, 1817. 
 
 Dear Sir, — A slight indisposition prevents me 
 from having the honor of going in person to express 
 my gratitude for the favor which the French Academy 
 has deigned to confer on me by according an honor- 
 able mention to the piece No. 15, of which I am the 
 author. Having heard that you have raised doubts as 
 to my age, I take the liberty of inclosing my certificate 
 of bhth. It will prove to you that the line — 
 
 Moi, qui . . . 
 
 De trois lustres i\ peine ai vu fiuir le cours, 
 
 is not a poetic fiction. 
 
 If there were time to insert my name in your report 
 printed by order of the Academy, it would greatly 
 increase the gratitude I owe you, and of which I beg 
 you to accept the proof in the form which your en- 
 couragement has so greatly endeared to me and which 
 must, for so many reasons, be still more dear to you. 
 
 I trust you will l)c kind enougli, dear sir, after hav- 
 ing taken note of it, to return me my birth certificate 
 to No. 18 Rue des Petits Augustins. 
 
270 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I beg you to accept the assurance of the profound 
 respect with which I have the honor to be, dear sir, 
 Your most obedient, humble servant, 
 
 Victor Marie Hugo. 
 
 A Raynouard, auteur des Templiers. 
 
 O Raynouard, toi qui d'un ordre auguste 
 Nous tragas en beaux vers le chatiment injuste ; 
 Qui, dedaignant I'amour et ses molles douleurs, 
 Sur I'austere vertu nous fis verser des pleurs ; 
 Toi qui bientot eneor, dans tes fdeondes veilles, 
 Des exploits de Judas ^ nous diras les merveilles ; 
 Pardonne ! interrompant de si nobles travaux, 
 Un jeune dl^ve de Virgile 
 Ose de sa Muse inliabile 
 T'adresser les accords nouveaux. 
 
 B te doit tout ; c'est toi dont 1' indulgence 
 
 Sut arracher au gouffre de I'oubli 
 
 Son faible essai dans 1' ombre enseveli, 
 
 De sa Muse accueillant I'enfance. 
 
 Tu fis plus ; tu voulus dans le scnat des arts 
 Sur elle attirer les regards. 
 Ces vers sans art ^cliappds h. ma veine 
 D'un tel honneur etaieut dignes k peine ; 
 Mais que ne pouvaient sur les cceurs 
 
 Cet amour que Virgile a peint en traits vainqueurs, 
 Le souvenir d'Elise abandonnde, 
 D'un triste hymen invoquant les vains droits 
 Et r^clamant contre I'inffrat En^e 
 L'appui des Dieux qui Font seuls condamnde ? 
 Que ne pourrait le cliarme de ta voix ? 
 De cette voix dont la male ^nergie, 
 
 Quand la patrie en deuil redemandait ses rois, 
 
 D^ployant des vertus I'^loquente magie, 
 
 Apprit au tyran meme k respecter nos lois ? 
 
 C'est k ta voix encor, c'est k son harmonie 
 
 Qu'est du tout le succes de mon bumble gdnie ; 
 
 Ce qui fait mon bonbeur fait aussi mon orgueil, 
 Virgile et toi protegiez ma faiblesse ; 
 
 ^ The young poet meant ** Juda. 
 
 >> 
 
TO THE ABBE DE LAMEXXAIS. 271 
 
 Ces vers noiiveaux que je t'adresse 
 
 Recevrout-ils le meme accueil ? 
 Dans le sein de Virgile ils n'ont point pris naissauee, 
 Ton organs flatteur n'a pas aecru leur prix ; 
 Mais ils sont inspires par la reconnaissance, 
 
 Et c'est pour toi qu'ils sont derits. 
 
 11. 
 
 To THE Abb]^ de Lamennais, la Chesnaie. 
 
 1st October, 1822. 
 
 I must write to you, my illustrious friend ; I am 
 about to be happy. Something would be wanting to 
 my happiness if you were not the first to hear of it. I 
 am Sfoinof to be married. I wish more than ever that 
 you were in Paris to make the acquaintance of the 
 angel who is about to convert all my dreams of virtue 
 and bliss into reality. I have not ventured to speak to 
 you before now of what absorbs my existence. My 
 whole future was still unsettled, and I could not divulge 
 a secret which did not belong exclusively to myself. 
 Besides, I was afraid of shocking your lofty austerity 
 by the avowal of an uncontrollable passion, although 
 a pure and innocent one. But now that everything 
 conspires to bestow on me a happiness after my own 
 heart, I do not doubt that all your tender feelings will 
 be interested in an attachment as old as myself, l)()rn in 
 early childhood and fostered by the first affliction of 
 youth. Victor M. Hugo. 
 
272 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 III. 
 
 To Count Francois de Neufchateau, of the French Academy^ 
 
 Rue Saint Marc-Fey deau. 
 
 15th November, 1824. 
 
 Dear Sir, — You have perhaps forgotten my name, 
 but / shall never forget the kind way in which you 
 were good enough to receive my first attempts. It is 
 for a proof of this kindness that I now venture to ask 
 you, and although it is not for myself, I shall value it 
 as if it were so. 
 
 There is a vacancy in the French Academy ; I cer- 
 tainly do not pretend to dictate a selection to a man 
 of your unerring taste. I simply take the liberty of 
 drawing your attention to a celebrated candidate who is 
 a friend of mine, and whose first publications I saw you 
 admire some years ago — M. Alphonse de Lamartine. 
 
 M. de Lamartine will take care to sohcit your vote 
 in person, and I have no doubt that his merit alone will 
 obtain it from your kindly and enlightened impartial- 
 ity ; but I shall be glad to have contributed to your 
 favorable decision. It would be adding, dear sir, a new 
 and lively sentiment of gratitude to all the debt already 
 owed you by 
 
 Your most deeply devoted 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To Baron Taylor. 
 
 Tuesday, 18th October, 1825. 
 
 Have you, my dear colleague, promised your box for 
 Thursday, or decided to give it to any one, and could 
 
TO BARON TAYLOR. 273 
 
 you, without the slig4itest mconvenience to yourself, let 
 my wife have it ? She has a great wish to see Talma 
 and Mile. Mars in Hecole cles meillards, and the pa- 
 pers are advertising it for Thursday next. 
 
 When are you going to drop in and join our family 
 dinner ? You know what pleasure it will give us. 
 
 No one is more cordially devoted to you than myself. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
 V. 
 
 To THE SA3IE. 
 
 11th March, 1830. 
 
 This evening's performance ^ has been warmly de- 
 fended and applauded, my dear Taylor, owing to the 
 decision I had to take not to diminish the number of 
 my tickets. I must see you about this. The actors 
 are unanimous in thinking that it would be highly 
 imprudent to cut down my free passes. Bear in mind 
 that it is always the same friends who come, and that 
 consequently no harm can be done to the receipts, 
 which always keep above 4,000 francs in spite of all 
 opposition, which is excellent. So do try to come and 
 talk it all over with me. I would go to see you, but I 
 have endless eno-acrements which detain me at liome 
 every day up to six o'clock. For the rest, until I see 
 you, you agree to my continuing to take the same stops 
 as I have done for tlie previous performances, do you 
 not? Your friend, V. II. 
 
 Mi<lni(jht. 
 
 If you have any trace of passes of mine finding 
 tlu'ir way into improper liands, give me a clue ; you 
 will be rendering' me a service as well as the theatre. 
 
 ^ Of Ilernani. 
 VOL. I. 18 
 
274 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I count on your box for Monday. Do not forget 
 that this is as important to the theatre as to myself. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To Mlle. ]VIars, 64 Rue Saint-Lazare. 
 
 Tuesday, 10th March, 1831. 
 
 Madam, — Every day I wish to go and see you, and 
 every day my time is taken up by a crowd of engage- 
 ments. But I really want to talk to you, to give you a 
 number of explanations to which you will hsten with 
 your usual charming kindness, to convey to you many 
 regrets which you will have no difficulty in beUeving. 
 You have been good enough to call on me twice. I 
 was very sorry not to have been at home. You would 
 have seen that I am in no way to blame for the decision 
 I was oblio:ed to take to withdraw Marion de Lorme 
 once and for all from the Theatre Fran9ais. You know 
 that the Ministry has had the hardihood to reestablish 
 the censorship, the authors were obliged to bind them- 
 selves not to give any play to the censured theatres, the 
 Theatre Francais was in this category; I adhered, as 
 in duty bound, to the authors' agreement. The Porte- 
 Saint-Martin offered to act my play and to fight the 
 censorship as much as I like. I informed Taylor of 
 this, in accordance with my promise, by communicating 
 to him the conditions to which M. Crosnier was willing 
 to subscribe ; I told him that I would give the prefer- 
 ence to the Theatre Francais on the same terms. I 
 asked him to let you and the committee know of it, and 
 I promised him that I would wait for four and twenty 
 hours before signing anything. I heard nothing more 
 from him, although I waited three days instead of four 
 
TO MLLE. MARS. 275 
 
 and twenty liours^ and finally, no answer being forth- 
 coming, I signed. Another consideration of a most 
 imperious nature influenced my decision. I received in- 
 formation that my subject had been purloined from me, 
 and that two Marion de Lormes, in prose, had already 
 been offered to two theatres. (I am assured at this very 
 moment that one of these pieces has lately been read 
 at the Theatre Francais.) There was, therefore, not 
 a moment to lose. The Theatre Frangais being under 
 prohibition owing to the censorship business, your action 
 against the members, the well-nigh certainty (admitted 
 by Taylor hunself and confirmed since by the steps 
 taken by the Theatre Francais to secure Mme. Dorval) 
 that you would not act any more, the necessity in any 
 event of waiting^ for an indefinite time durino: which 
 my subject would have been stolen from me and the 
 bloom taken off my piece by other theatres, — all this 
 made me decide for the Porte-Saint-Martin. I hear 
 to-day that you would have been able to act for me. I 
 am truly sorry. I am also told that you are kind enough 
 to somewhat regret the loss of the part which I thought 
 you filled so admirably. That is almost a consolation. 
 It is equivalent to a hope that you will not refuse the 
 next part which I shall be delighted to offer you. In 
 the meanwhile. Madam, forgive me, if you think there 
 is anything to forgive me for. Write me a line to say 
 that you vvill not be too angry with me, and that you 
 will permit me to work once more for you ; above all 
 pity me, and keep some friendship for me in return for 
 my unbounded admiration and profound devotion. 
 
 Victor Hugo. 
 
276 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To The Director of the Revue du Progres Social. 
 
 \8t June, 1834. 
 
 Dear Sir, — I have read most attentively the Revue 
 du Progres social and the statement of principles which 
 you have been good enough to communicate to me. 
 All enlightened and intelligent men who have studied 
 the past with a view to the future have long had a 
 common idea on the f utiu'e destiny of society, an idea 
 which, born and developed separately in each individual 
 brain at the present moment, will some day, and I hope 
 before long, culminate in one great general undertaking. 
 
 This undertaking will be the slow, peaceful, and logical 
 formation of a social order in which the new principles 
 set free by the French Revolution will at last find a means 
 of combining with the eternal and primordial principles 
 of all civilization. Your Review and your statement lead 
 towards this grand goal by du-ect and safe paths, the in- 
 clines of which seem to me to be carefully graduated. I 
 agree with you on almost every point, and I am glad of it. 
 
 Let us all cooperate, then, each in his own sphere 
 and according to his own particular law, in the great 
 substitution of social for political questions. The whole 
 problem lies there. Let us endeavor to rally all the 
 choicer spirits to a realizable conception of progress, 
 and to extract a superior party, bent on civilization, 
 from all the inferior parties who do not know what 
 they want. 
 
 I have no doubt of your success. Truth, dear sir, 
 sometimes has long periods of gestation, but never 
 miscarries. Victor Hugo. 
 
TO M. ANTOINE DE LATOUR. 277 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To M. AxTOiXE DE Latour, tutor of M. de Montpensievy at the 
 
 Tuileries, 
 
 Les Roches, l^th October, 1835. 
 
 Thank you for your kind letter. I only paid a flying 
 visit to Treport, quite obscure and lost in the crowd. I 
 should have much liked to shake you by the hand, but 
 I should have wanted you alone, and my friends must 
 be kind enough to forgive the fancies of a dreamy, 
 unsociable man. I had fled from Paris at the approach 
 of the July anniversary. I do not like the noise of the 
 capital on this occasion. And then I thought I was 
 running away from a fete, and it turned out that I had 
 escaped a catastrophe.^ On the whole I was deHghted 
 with my little trip. I prefer the spectacle of the sea to 
 that of the Chambers, and I find the movement of the 
 ocean finer than the march of events. Now I am back 
 in Paris, or nearly so. Come and see me when you 
 have time. In the meanwhile think of me as of a 
 friend. 
 
 1 The attempt of Fieschi on the life of Louis Philippe, 28th July, 
 1835. 
 
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