THE LETTERS OF 
 VICTOR HUGO 
 
THE LETTERS OF 
 
 VICTOR HUGO 
 
 FROM EXILE, AND AFTER THE 
 FALL OF THE EMPIRE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 PAUL MEURICE 
 
 BOSTON AND NEW YORK 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 
 
Copyright, 1898, 
 BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 
 
 Ml rights reserved. 
 
 The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U. S. A. 
 Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton and Company. 
 
NOTE. 
 
 IN this translation of the second volume of the 
 Letters of Victor Hugo some letters of minor interest 
 have been omitted, and a few notes have been given 
 in addition to those supplied by the French editor. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I. LETTERS TO VARIOUS PERSONS. JOURNEY ON THE RHINE 1 
 II. THE COUP D'ETAT. LETTERS FROM BRUSSELS . . .55 
 
 III. LETTERS FROM EXILE 115 
 
 IV. AFTER THE FALL OF THE EMPIRE .... 235 
 
THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I. LETTERS TO VARIOUS PERSONS. JOURNEY ON 
 THE RHINE. 
 
 1836-1851. : ! ,, > . 
 
 I. 
 
 To MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN, at Les Roches. 
 
 MONT SAINT-MICHEL, 27th June, 1836. 
 
 I AM writing to you, mademoiselle, from Mont Saint- 
 Michel, which is really the most beautiful spot in the 
 world, next to Bievre, of course. Les Roches is 
 lovely and charming ; a great advantage it possesses 
 over the forbidding mass of dungeons, towers, and 
 rocks which bears the name of Mont Saint-Michel. 
 
 It would not be easy to write from a more awe- 
 inspiring place to a more delightful one. At this 
 moment I am hemmed in by the sea which surrounds 
 the mount. It must be horrible in winter, with its 
 hurricanes, tempests, and shipwrecks. It is grand, all 
 the same. 
 
 What a strange place Mont Saint-Michel is ! Around, 
 
 as far as the eye can reach, infinite space, the blue 
 
 horizon of the sea, the green horizon of the land, 
 
 clouds, air, liberty, birds in full flight, ships with all 
 
 VOL. n. 1 
 
2 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 sails set, and then all at once, on the top of an old 
 wall above our heads, through a barred window, the 
 pale face of a prisoner. I have never felt so strongly 
 as here the cruel antithesis which man sometimes makes 
 with nature. 
 
 You can have none of these sad thoughts. You are 
 happy over there; happy with your excellent father, 
 your kind relations ; happy in the view of your beau- 
 tiful valley from your window ; happy in the prospect 
 pf your great .success. 
 
 .* I shfl'lJ; ib'e 'jA Paris between the 10th and 15th of 
 ie ;at your disposal, and ready for Notre- 
 
 ctm'e? 'a' 'poof plaster statue of which I can see from 
 the casement of my room, perched in a beautiful trefoil 
 niche of the fifteenth century. 
 
 n. 
 
 To Louis DE MAYNARD, at Martinique. 
 
 2m May, 1837. 
 
 We are still expecting you. Your kind and charm- 
 ing letter told us you were soon returning ; we were 
 all looking forward to it, and you have not yet ar- 
 rived ! 
 
 We want you badly here; we want you for our- 
 selves, because we love you, and for my part because 
 your generous and loyal friendship was one of the real 
 joys of my life ; then we want you for your own sake, 
 because here, I am sure, you would write us a fine book. 
 We want you for the ideas which you would promote 
 for art, which has so few followers like yourself ; we 
 want you because a noble, honest face like yours, erect 
 
 1 La Esmeralda, for which Mile. Berlin was composing the music. 
 
TO LOUIS DE MAYNARD. 3 
 
 amid so many drooping and sidelong glances, rests the 
 eye and consoles the heart. 
 
 At any rate, I hope you are doing something over 
 there. Make up for your absence by some fine work, 
 your natural product. Instead of the great human 
 stage which you had here, you have the grand spectacle 
 of nature ; instead of the strife of ideas, you have the 
 placid harmony of things ; if you have less of the 
 world, you have more sunshine. As for me, I continue 
 my task, waters much troubled, as you know, by the 
 stones thrown into them ; I work, I study, I have 
 three plays in my head, you shall see one some of 
 these days, and then occasionally I write poetry. 
 
 Our politics are still mean and petty, you remember ; 
 they have not improved since you left us. Small men 
 working at a small idea, very little busy about nothing. 
 
 Altogether, there are times when I envy you, you 
 a poet exiled in a sunny land, an exile which Ovid 
 would have loved, in that beautiful Martinique which 
 you have described so admirably. 
 
 My fraternal love to you. 
 
 in. 
 
 To A WORKINGMAN AND POET. 
 
 PARIS, 3d October, 1837. 
 
 Be proud of your title of workman. We are all 
 workmen, God included, and in your case the brain 
 works still more than the hands. 
 
 The generous class to which you belong has a great 
 future in store for it, but it must give the fruit time to 
 ripen. This class, so noble and so useful, should eschew 
 what makes little and seek what makes great ; it should 
 
4 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 try to discover reasons for love rather than pretexts for 
 \ hatred ; it should learn to respect women and children ; 
 it should read and study in its leisure moments ; it 
 should develop its intelligence, and it will achieve suc- 
 cess. I have said in one of my works : The day when 
 the people 'becomes intelligent, it will rule. In other 
 words, civilization is the paramount thing. Sometimes 
 it rules through one man, as with the popes ; sometimes 
 through more than one, as with the senates; some- 
 times through all, as will be the case with the people. 
 Patience, therefore. Let us understand what exists, 
 to be worthy of existence some day. Let the people 
 work, for we all work. Let it love us, for we love it. 
 Let it not disturb the young plant, barely sown, if it 
 wishes to enjoy shade and fruit in the future. 
 
 I am sure that all these ideas are yours as well. 
 Impress them on the people, of which your intelligence 
 makes you one of the natural leaders. Instead of sim- 
 ply thanking you for your excellent verses, so flattering 
 to me, I have indulged in this serious conversation. 
 You will, I imagine, accept it as I offer it, as a token 
 of sympathy and esteem. 
 
 IV. 
 
 To VICTOR PAVIE. 
 
 28th November, 1837. 
 
 You are quite right to continue to think a little of 
 your friends in the Place Royale. You are loved here, 
 loved, do you understand ? and with all our hearts. 
 You know, my dear Pa vie, that friendship is a religion 
 to me. And besides, who can be a better friend than 
 you ? My wife and I often say this to each other in the 
 
TO LAMARTINE. 5 
 
 winter evenings, when we think of the many false faces 
 which have betrayed us. A friend such as you are is a 
 good and noble thing. 
 
 Here I am troubled by worries, legal business, 1 law- 
 yers, and annoyances of every description. You must 
 have seen something of this 'in the papers ; but what 
 they do not tell you is that my thoughts are very often 
 with you amidst all the whirl. 
 
 David has given you my bust. I congratulate it ; it 
 will henceforth be present at your intimate conversation 
 and family talks ; I envy it. 
 
 Amid the tumult which my enemies raise around me, 
 I have built up a little sanctuary into which I gaze 
 unceasingly. In it are my wife and my children, the 
 sweet and happy side of my existence. 
 
 Do come and see us this winter. Bring Theodore ; 
 bring your good father. I do not say, Bring your wife, 
 for when I am speaking to you I naturally include her. 
 
 v. 
 
 To LAMARTINE. 
 
 14th May, 1838. 
 
 You have written a grand poem, my friend. La 
 chute d'un ange is one of your most majestic creations. 
 What will be the edifice, if these are only the bas-reliefs ! 
 Never has the breath of nature more deeply penetrated 
 and more amply inspired a work of art, from the base 
 to the summit, and in its minutest details. 
 
 I thank you for the happy hours which I have just 
 spent closeted with your genius. I fancy that I have 
 an ear for your voice. Consequently my admiration for 
 
 1 Lawsuit with the Comedie Franfaise. 
 
6 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 you comes not only from my soul, but from my heart ; 
 for with a poet like you, to create is to charm, and with 
 a listener like me, to admire is to love. 
 Yours ex imo pectore. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To M. VEDEL, Manager of the Comedie Frangaise. 
 
 MONTMIRAIL, 20^ August, 1838. 
 
 DEAR SIR, According to the terms of the judg- 
 ment given in the suit between me and the Comedie 
 Fran$aise, and confirmed by decree, the Comedie was 
 to play Angela a certain number of times between the 
 20th of November, 1837, and the 20th of April, 1838, 
 under a penalty of fifty francs damages for every day of 
 delay. At the present date, August the 20th, the num- 
 ber of performances has not been completed, and the 
 result is that at this moment the Comedie Franpaise 
 is indebted to me in the sum of eighteen thousand 
 francs. However, I see no reason for altering the 
 decision which led me to remit the sum of two thousand 
 four hundred francs owing to me by the Comedie for 
 delays in the representation of Marion de Lorme. I 
 am even delighted to have this further opportunity of 
 personally acknowledging the amiability and good taste 
 of which you have given me more than one proof in 
 our recent intercourse. I must add that I am glad to 
 be able to convey my thanks also to those actors of the 
 Comedie Fran$aise who have assisted me with so much 
 zeal and talent. Be so good then, dear sir, as to inform 
 the Comedie that I give it a free and full discharge of 
 the sum of eighteen thousand francs which it now owes 
 me. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
TO M. ETCHEVERRY. 
 
 VII. 
 
 To M. ETCHEVERBY, at the Ecoles newspaper office. 
 
 27th February, 1839. 
 
 ... I read your Gazette des Ecoles with great in- 
 terest. In this paper, as in everything that comes from 
 the rising generation, there is something noble and 
 honest which expands the heart. 
 
 Courage, gentlemen, courage ! you belong to the 
 generation which owns the future. You wih 1 do great 
 things. In politics you wih 1 finish the rough sketches ; 
 in literature you will carry on the work. For a long 
 time past in all my writings I have striven to hasten 
 the day when social questions will be substituted for 
 political ones ; when, between the party of reaction and 
 that of revolution, there will arise the party of civiliza- 
 tion. That day will be yours ; that party will consist 
 of you. 
 
 In spite of all that is said, the age in which we live 
 is a grand one. At no other time have art and thought 
 soared so high. On all sides there are great begin- 
 nings of everything. Congratulate yourselves, for you 
 will have many a sacred task to accomplish. As for 
 me, I view the innumerable questions which are rising 
 in every quarter without anxiety, f or I Jpresee_J;he 
 genius of the coming age, and I know that you will 
 have plenty of solutions to offer. 
 
8 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 VIII. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Tuesday, 27th August, 1839. 
 
 I have finished my third act, 1 dearest. It is almost 
 as long as the first, so that my play is already as long 
 as an ordinary one. 
 
 I am feeling so unwell, and the loneliness of the 
 house is so unbearable to me, that I am going away. 
 I shall write my last act when I return. It will be no 
 loss, for I am worn out with fatigue, and if I were to 
 go on working now I believe I should fall ill. When 
 I come back I shall be set up again, and I shall finish 
 it in a week. So all is for the best. 
 
 I hope you have had a good and pleasant journey. 
 I fancy I can see you comfortably settled in my kind 
 friend Vacquerie's house. Take a good rest, my Adele, 
 enjoy yourself, and tell all my little darlings to have 
 plenty of fun, and to be very happy. I am always 
 thinking of you all, and I pray God to keep you 
 happy. 
 
 I hope, also, that Charles and Toto are working hard, 
 as they are bound to do, as befits those who have gained 
 a prize. 
 
 Kiss my beloved Didine, my good little Dede, my 
 dear little Toto, and my dear old Charlie, and my fond- 
 est love to yourself. I love you. 
 
 Your own VICTOR. 
 
 1 Of the play Les Jumeaux, which was never finished. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 9 
 
 IX. 
 
 To JULES LACROix. 1 
 
 Uth April, 1840. 
 
 You are perfectly right, dear poet ; make the trans- 
 lation homogeneous. In the French language there is 
 a great gulf between prose and poetry ; in English 
 there is hardly any difference. It is a splendid privi- 
 lege of the great literary languages Greek, Latin, 
 and French that they possess a prose. English has 
 not this privilege. There is no prose in English. The 
 genius of the two languages is, therefore, completely 
 different in this respect. What Shakespeare was able 
 to do in English he would certainly not have done in 
 French. So obey your excellent poetical instinct ; do 
 in French what Shakespeare would have done, what 
 Corneille and Moliere have done, write homogeneous 
 pieces. 
 
 That is my advice. And, next, I am devotedly at- 
 tached to you. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO, at Saint-Prix. 
 
 PARIS, 31st July, 1840. 
 
 I send you a very good piece of news, dearest, as 
 quickly as possible. Charles 2 has gained the first prize 
 for an essay in the open competition. M. Jauffret gave 
 it out this morning before all his class in the college. 
 
 1 Jules Lacroix, who translated several of Shakespeare's plays into 
 French verse, had asked Victor Hugo if it would be better to translate 
 Shakespeare entirely into Alexandrine verse, or to mix up prose and verse 
 as in the English text. 
 
 2 Charles Hugo, eldest sou of the poet. 
 
10 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 When he came to Charles's name the whole class burst 
 forth ; there were three rounds of applause. The dear 
 boy is very happy. I have seen him twice to-day, as 
 well as M. Poirson l and M. Jauffret. Are you not also 
 delighted ? Kiss our dear little girls for me. I love 
 you fondly, my Adele. 
 
 Here is the letter I received from M. Poirson : 
 
 I wish to congratulate you to-day, dear sir, and to 
 sympathize with your paternal joy and pride. There 
 have been many more glorious and more intoxicating 
 moments in your life, but can there have been a hap- 
 pier one ? A. POIRSON. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To MMTC. VICTOR HUGO, at Saint-Prix. 
 
 PARIS, 29th August, noon [1840]. 
 
 I am off in a few minutes, dear Adele, and I am 
 writing to you as I promised. I am in low spirits. I 
 love you dearly, darling, and at this moment I wish 
 you could know how tenderly I think of you all, my 
 beloved ones. 
 
 I am going via Soissons, as I did last year. I notice 
 that it is always easier to get places for the North than 
 for the South. 
 
 Tell my Charles and my Toto that I shall be very 
 pleased with them if they work hard. 
 
 I will write to you from my first stopping-place. My 
 fondest love to you all, my Didine, my Dede, my little 
 prizemen, and my kindest regards to your dear father. 
 
 Love me, my Adele, and think a little of me. 
 
 1 Headmaster of the College Charlemagne. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 11 
 
 XII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 NAMUR, 2d September, 1840. 
 
 I am at Namur, dearest, and I am sending you the 
 first pages of my diary. In future I will send it you 
 in this form, for in this way I shall be able to keep 
 apart, as you wish, what concerns the journey and 
 what concerns us. It will therefore be a diary l pure 
 and simple, to which I will always add a letter to 
 you. I am starting for Liege, and from there I go to 
 Cologne. 
 
 I think of you all very tenderly, and of you, my 
 Adele. I hope you are all well at Saint-Prix, and that 
 the fine air and lovely country are doing your dear 
 father as much good as ever. 
 
 I beg my dear children and you to write me really 
 nice long letters. I need them more than ever when I 
 am traveling. Nature is charming, but family affec- 
 tion is still more so. 
 
 Do not let any one but members of the family read 
 this diary of mine. I shall be delighted if it amuses 
 and interests you and your father a little. If by chance 
 there is any one not of the family at Saint-Prix, even 
 an intimate friend, I beg you not to let him read the 
 diary. I have already pointed out to you the danger 
 of so doing. Good-by, dearest ; my very best love to 
 you all, my dear ones ; I think only of you. 
 
 1 This diary was intended to form, and eventually did form, the book 
 called Le Rhin. 
 
12 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ST. GOAR, 15^ September, 1840. 
 
 I am continuing my journey up the Rhine slowly, as 
 you see, dearest. Here is the continuation of my diary. 
 I try to see everything, so as to have a complete and 
 distinct idea of this beautiful country. 
 
 I cannot remember the date of Marie de Medici's 
 death, nor that of Rubens' birth. Your father is sure 
 to know them. Ask him to fill in the spaces I have 
 left blank. If he were with me, which would be a 
 delight to me, I should not leave any. 
 
 I have made a sketch of Andernach for my little 
 Didine, but it is too large to go into a letter. It would 
 have to be folded. I am keeping it in my album to 
 give you in Paris, my darling Didine. I have left 
 Andernach, and am now at St. Goar, a wonderful 
 place, of which I will send you a drawing of some sort. 
 
 I travel slowly because I must do so, and yet I am 
 sorry to do so, for I long to reach Mayence, where your 
 letters are awaiting me, my dearest Adele, my darling 
 children ; I hope they will bring me only what is sweet 
 and good. I am always thinking tenderly of you ; you 
 are with me everywhere, in my expeditions and in my 
 work. 
 
 Good-by, dearest ; good-by, my Adele. Think of me 
 and love me. I will soon write again. Go on writing 
 to Mayence. I will write to you all from Mayence, 
 for I hope you will all have written to me. Fondest 
 love to you, and also to your kind father. Kisses for 
 you, dearest, for you, my Didine, for you, my Charles, 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 13 
 
 to you both, my Toto and Dede. You must all think 
 of your father, who loves you so dearly. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To THE SAME. ; 
 
 AIX-LA-CHAPELLE, 2,5th September, 1840. 
 
 I think, dearest, you must have already received the 
 first twelve pages of my diary. I am now sending you 
 the next installment, hoping greatly that it may interest 
 you all a little. I am at Aix-la-Chapelle, and I leave 
 for Cologne to-morrow. From there I intend to go up 
 the Rhine as far as possible. In a few days I will send 
 you the account of my journey from Liege to Aix-la- 
 Chapelle. Tell Didine 1 to follow me on the map. I 
 hope to get good news of you all at Mayence, for I 
 want it badly. It seems an age since I left you all, 
 and I feel quite sad when I recall my poor Toto's tear- 
 ful face on old Bontemps' doorstep. 
 
 Work well, my dear children. My Charlie, remem- 
 ber you are now among the clever boys of the fifth 
 form. You also, Toto, will soon begin your school 
 life; you must do it with credit. Play well, too. 
 Write me long letters, all of you, mind, my beloved 
 ones, my dear little Dede included. I hope her 
 chicken, her pigeon, her kid, her cat, and her rabbit 
 will not keep her from writing to her papa. I beg she 
 will work well, and be very obedient to her sister, who 
 is a sensible girl. I do not mean by this that Dede is 
 not a good child. I hope her dear kind mamma is 
 pleased with her. 
 
 Tell your father, my Adele, that I miss him every 
 
 1 Ldopoldine, Victor Hugo's eldest daughter. 
 
14 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 moment in this charming journey, in which everything 
 would interest him ; I have no books with me and have 
 to rely on my memory only, and all his knowledge 
 would be of such great help to me who have so little. 
 
 And then I miss you all as well, and should like to 
 have you close to me, dear faces which I kiss and which 
 I love. 
 
 xv. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BINGEN, 28th September, 1840. 
 
 Good-morning, my darling Adele; my fondest love 
 to you. I am now at Bingen. To-morrow I shall be 
 at Mayence and I shall get your letters; I shall get 
 letters from all of you, my beloved ones. It will be 
 like seeing you all again. I am quite joyful. You 
 and the others must write to Treves in future. If time 
 allows, I think of writing the same work on the Moselle, 
 a beautiful and little known river, that I am now finish- 
 ing on the Rhine. 
 
 " On the 14th of September M. Jules Janin, au- 
 thor, and M. Victor Hugo, id., passed through Bin- 
 gen," the names are entered there in the visitors' 
 book of the Victoria Hotel, by Jules Janin himself, 
 whose handwriting I think I recognized. M. Victor 
 Hugo, the landlord informs me, did not look very like 
 his portraits, and had mustaches. The two gentlemen 
 were in high spirits, and had three charming ladies 
 with them. They made all the excursions in the neigh- 
 borhood. Their arrival upset the whole town. They 
 were very good fellows, however. The landlord asked 
 me if I knew them. I said yes, slightly, but only by 
 name. Now strangers are shown their names written 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 15 
 
 in the visitors' book. It has made quite a stir in the 
 little Roman town of Bingen, which, however, was once 
 visited by Charlemagne. As for me, I travel quite in- 
 cognito and unrecognized, and I am glad of it. 
 
 I hope to find nice letters from everybody at May- 
 ence, and to hear that you are all well, and that the 
 holidays, which, alas ! are drawing to a close, have been 
 well spent in much pleasure and a little work. 
 
 My darling Dede, just now I hear a little girl of 
 your age chattering in the room next mine, who re- 
 minds me of you, dear child. Be very good to your 
 mother, your sister, and your brother, and your daddy 
 will love you very much. 
 
 My Didine, my Charles, my To to, I will write to 
 each of you from Mayence, where I shall find all your 
 letters. I send you all a thousand kisses, as well as to 
 your dear mother, my children, my joy, my life. Think 
 of me, and pray for me night and morning. You are 
 continually in my thoughts. 
 
 My kind regards to your good father. I hope all 
 my scribblings amuse and interest him, and that he will 
 correct me when necessary. 
 
 One more kiss for you, dearest. You see there is 
 room for it. 
 
 XVI. 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 MAYENCE, 1st October, 1840. 
 
 I ought to scold you, dearest, for having written me 
 such a short letter. But as it was gentle and loving, I 
 forgive you this time, on condition that it does not 
 occur again, and that you will at any rate write me a 
 good long letter to Treves. You ought to understand 
 
16 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 that, after an absence which already seems very long 
 to me, I want to hear a little of what is going on in 
 Paris, or at all events at Saint-Prix. So write to me 
 everything you hear about everything that you know 
 will interest me. I believe some of our friends go to 
 see you at Saint-Prix. Eepeat to me what they tell 
 you. Here are letters for all the children, for Julie, 
 and for your good father. It was a great pleasure to 
 me to hear that Julie was quite well. 
 
 Have you seen Mme. Menessier-Nodier ? Have you 
 even written to her ? Have you asked her to the 
 house ? Do not forget, dearest, to pay some attentions 
 in that quarter; they are friends of seventeen years' 
 standing. 
 
 I am going to see Mannheim, Heidelberg, and Frank- 
 fort ; then, if the weather holds up, I shall come down 
 the Rhine and follow the course of the Moselle, as I 
 have already told you. My next letter will bring you 
 the continuation of my diary. 
 
 Here are a lot of drawings for the children. I have 
 tried to divide them equally. Each child has an equal 
 share of my heart. 
 
 I have been to Bingen, Rudesheim, the famous Rat 
 Tower. Just now I am exploring Mayence, a most 
 interesting place. This journey will have been of great 
 use to me, and, I hope, to you all. 
 
 In conclusion, dearest, I remind you once more how 
 much I hope to find at least one nice long letter from 
 you at Treves. Tell me if my diary interests you. 
 You know that you and my beloved children are the 
 sole object of my work in this world. Some day I 
 shall leave you all the edifice that I shall have built. 
 
TO TOTO. 17 
 
 I hope that my name will be a tower of strength to my 
 children. 
 
 So write to me soon and often, my darling Adele. 
 I shall love you the more. 
 
 Your dear old HUSBAND. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To TOTO. 
 
 MAYENCE, 1st October, 1840. 
 
 Here, my dear little Toto, is a sketch I have done 
 for you. I am sending it directly after having read 
 your nice dear little letter. A month hence, my dar- 
 ling, you will see your father again, and that will be as 
 happy a day for him as for you. 
 
 When this letter reaches you, your holidays will be 
 nearly at an end. You and my Charlie will both be 
 returning to school, and, I trust, with renewed courage 
 and fresh strength. All my hopes and all my happi- 
 ness are centred in you, my dear ones. Your dear 
 mother tells me she is satisfied with all of you. Make 
 her as happy as she deserves, she who loves you so 
 much, and who, like me, thinks only of you and your 
 happiness in this world. 
 
 The child is father to the man ; never forget this, my 
 little Toto ; be an industrious scholar, and I answer for 
 it that you will one day be what is called a man, vir. 
 
 All the details you give me of your games and work 
 have greatly interested me. When you have received 
 this letter, write me a few lines to Treves, and tell me 
 a great deal more about yourself, your brother, and your 
 sisters, and everything at home. This enables me to 
 share in your pleasures, your amusements, your daily 
 VOL. n. 2 
 
18 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 life ; and I imagine that I am among you all, my dar- 
 ling children. 
 
 I am delighted to hear that all the animals belonging 
 to my little shepherdess Dede are quite well, and that 
 you have finished your house of leaves and branches. 
 Tell Dede that she must write me rather a longer letter 
 than the first. 
 
 As for me, my Toto, you will see, if you read my 
 letters to your mother, that I am working, and that 
 even in my holidays I try not to waste my time. I see 
 beautiful countries, I study very novel and very curious 
 things, but they are not worth your kisses and ca- 
 resses, nor a couple of hours spent among you all at 
 Saint-Prix. 
 
 So, my dear little Toto, go back to school bravely, 
 work well, write to me, please your mother and your 
 masters, and remember I am hardly a moment without 
 thinking of you. Nothing of what I see diverts my 
 mind from you, my children. All that I am and all 
 that I do in this world is for you. 
 
 I love you, I love you dearly, my little Toto. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To B^BANGEB. 
 
 MAYENCE, 4th October, 1840. 
 
 I am at Mayence, a place which has been French, 
 which will become French again one day, which still 
 is so in heart and mind, and will be until it is marked 
 thus on the map by the red or blue line of the frontier. 
 Just now I was at my window overlooking the Rhine. 
 I was listening vaguely to the noise of the water-mills 
 moored to the old sunken piles of Charlemagne's 
 
TO BERANGEK. 19 
 
 bridge, and thinking of the great things which Na- 
 poleon did here, when from a neighboring window a 
 woman's voice, a sweet voice, wafted me snatches of 
 the charming lines : 
 
 " J'aime qu'un russe soit russe, 
 Et qu'un anglais soit anglais ; 
 Si Ton est prussien en Prusse, 
 En France, soyons frangais. 
 
 Mes amis ! mes amis ! 
 Soyons de notre pays ! 
 
 Qui s'e'criait a Pavie 
 
 Tout est perdu f ors 1'honneur ? 
 
 Consolons par ce mot-la 
 Ceux que le nombre accabla." 
 
 These noble lines of yours, heard in this way and 
 in this spot, touched me deeply. I send you the frag- 
 ments as they were borne to me on the breeze. They 
 brought tears to my eyes, and I felt irresistibly im- 
 pelled to write to you. My heart was sad in a. place 
 where a Frenchman ought not to be a foreigner ; where 
 
 o J 
 
 a white soldier and a blue soldier, i. e., Austria and 
 Prussia, mount guard in front of the citadel defended 
 in '94 by our people in Mayence, and enlarged by 
 Napoleon in 1807. Your lines have gladdened my 
 heart. This song of a woman is the protest of a whole 
 people. I thought you would like to know that the 
 Rhine reechoes with your voice, and that the town of 
 Frauenlob sings the songs of Beranger. 
 
 I am only passing through Mayence, but I am taking 
 a deep impression away with me. I owe this to you, 
 
20 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 and I thank you for it. Dear great poet, I am your 
 devoted admirer. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 HEIDELBERG, 9th October, 1840. 
 
 Here, dearest, is another large installment of my 
 diary. I am afraid I may be obliged to give it up ; 
 for what with traveling, or seeing buildings, or studying 
 in libraries in the daytime, I can write only at night. 
 Sometimes I spend the whole night over it, and my 
 eyes suffer in consequence. Still, as I fancy it inter- 
 ests your father, and amuses you all a little, I shall 
 do my best to go on with it. Besides, it is a useful 
 work, inasmuch as a number of local things, which are 
 in danger of being lost or obliterated, are recorded in 
 it for the first time. Well, I shall try to make my 
 eyes serve me, though I cannot be very sure of them. 
 Your father will find in this letter some unpublished 
 details of the coronation of the emperors at Frankfort, 
 which I fancy he will think curious. 
 
 I have calculated that you ought to have received 
 my last letters on Sunday. That day my thoughts 
 were constantly with you all, my beloved ones. Those 
 of you who did not care for their drawings have only 
 to tell me so, and I will make them others in Paris. 
 
 I hope, dearest, that all is still going on well. The 
 rumors of war which penetrate here do not, I think, 
 reach Saint-Prix. 
 
 By this time you will have lost Charlie and Toto. 
 The dear children have doubtless gone back to M. 
 Jauffret. You must impress on them from me, dear- 
 est, that I expect them to persevere in their studies. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 21 
 
 I shall set to work, too, on my return. It is im- 
 portant that this winter should be a productive and 
 fruitful one for me, and I hope we shall both succeed 
 in making it so, you by economy and I by work. 
 
 In about three weeks I shall see you all again. It 
 will be a happy day for me, and for you also I hope, 
 my Adele. 
 
 My darling Adele, my beloved Didine, remember that 
 I expect to find several letters from you both at Treves, 
 and that I must have them. And from you too, my 
 little Dede. If Charlie and Toto can write to me, in 
 spite of their lessons, they will give their papa a great 
 deal of pleasure. I hope, also, to get a letter from your 
 good father, to whom I send my kindest regards. We 
 shall soon meet again, my darlings. A thousand kisses 
 to you all. 
 
 XX. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 STOCKART, 19th October, 1840. 
 
 I am writing to you, dearest, in the midst of the 
 grandest storm imaginable. I am in the Black Forest, 
 and I am going to see Schaffhausen to complete my 
 Ehine tour. I inclose the beginning of a letter to 
 Boulanger, 1 whose address I have forgotten. You may 
 all read it at Saint-Prix, if you like ; after that, put the 
 sheets in an envelope and send them to Louis. 
 
 It is rainy in the Moselle country, so I have given 
 up going there. I shall return to Heidelberg to see 
 the interior of the Black Forest; and from there I 
 shall come straight into France by Forbach. Write 
 
 * An artist of merit, a friend of Victor Hugo. 
 
22 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 to me now (and pray do so, dearest, as soon as you 
 have received this) a nice little letter to Forbach, poste 
 restante (France). I wrote to the post-office at Treves 
 to have all your letters sent on there. I shall find 
 them as I pass through. 
 
 In a few days you will receive the conclusion of 
 the letter to Boulanger. That will serve as a sort of 
 continuation of my diary for Heidelberg, which is a 
 delightful spot. 
 
 I live in the thoughts of you all, and in hopes that 
 everything is going on well at Saint-Prix. I hope you 
 are in good health, and that my dear children give 
 you no trouble. 
 
 Just now I am passing through a lovely country. 
 Before long, perhaps, it will be devastated by war. 
 When I see a ruin I observe it carefully. Perhaps it 
 will be used as a military position, and in another year 
 I should not be able to recognize it. 
 
 My eyes still give me trouble ; but I spare them. 
 I must do so, for they will have to work this winter. 
 
 A few more days, and then I shall embrace you, my 
 Adele. I hope by the 1st of November I shall have 
 that happiness. 
 
 Please write me a long letter to Forbach, and give 
 me the latest news of you all. If you only knew how 
 I long for it ! Farewell, my beloved ; that is to say, 
 good-by for the present only. 
 
 When you see them, kiss my two dear little school- 
 boys, Charlie and Toto, for me. 
 
TO SAVINIEN LAPOINTE. 23 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
 December, 1840. 
 
 Five and twenty years have passed, and there remain 
 only great things and two great men, Napoleon and 
 Chateaubriand. Permit me to lay these lines 1 at your 
 feet. You have long ago made peace with the illustri- 
 ous shade who inspired them. 
 
 Let me offer them to you as a fresh token of my old 
 and profound admiration. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To SAVINIEN LAPOINTE. 2 
 
 March, 1841. 
 
 DEAR SIR, If your lines were only beautiful, I 
 might perhaps be less moved by them, but they are 
 noble ones. I am more than charmed, I am touched. 
 Continue your twofold office, your task as a workman, 
 and your mission as a thinker. You speak to the peo- 
 ple as one of themselves, others address them from an 
 elevation ; your eloquence is not the least efficacious ; 
 your lot is a good one, believe me. 
 
 Courage, then, and patience ! Courage for the great 
 sorrows of life, and patience for the small ones. And 
 then when you have laboriously accomplished your 
 daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake. 
 
 I believe in God, and I believe in humanity. God 
 sets a goal at the end of every path. All we have to 
 do is to advance. 
 
 1 Le retour de Vempereur. 
 
 2 Savinien Lapointe was a shoemaker and a poet. 
 
24 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Always follow the grave and mysterious monitions 
 of your conscience. I have said in one of my works, 
 and I think it more than ever : The poet has the care 
 of souls. In the profound darkness which still en- 
 velops so many minds, men like you among the people 
 are the torches which light the work of others. En- 
 deavor to increase unceasingly the quantity and the 
 purity of your light. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 PARIS, Wth June, 1841. 
 
 I have just left, my venerable friend, the first private 
 meeting of the Academy at which I have been present, 
 and I find your letter on my return. I will not delay 
 a moment in answering it. It charms me as everything 
 does which comes from you. You know how to impart 
 your feelings to your style. Everything you write has 
 a fragrance of the soul. 
 
 I am glad that my speech * is so highly thought of 
 at Bel- Air. It represents simply the honest convictions 
 of a man who has no personal interest in the questions 
 of the day, who is devoted above all things to civiliza- 
 tion, to thought, and to his country. To have found 
 an echo in your heart is glory for me. 
 
 Go on, my dear good colleague, love those who love 
 you, and write for those who understand you. 
 
 1 His speech on the occasion of his reception by the Academy. 
 
TO ALPHONSE KARR. 25 
 
 xxrv. 
 
 To ALPHONSE KARR. 
 
 20^ June, 1841. 
 
 MY DEAR ALPHONSE KARR, 1 You are poetry in- 
 carnate which complains of a poet and is right. 
 
 I, on my side, am not wrong. I have something of 
 the poet, but a great deal of the soldier. As you 
 remark so wittily, Salvandy's speech was emptied over 
 my head, but after all, I have got the seat ! and you 
 are there too, and so are all my ideas and yours. 
 
 After all, the Academy has been a great institution, 
 and can and should become so again, thanks to all the 
 thoughtful and promising men of whom I am but the 
 henchman, thanks to the real poets and the genuine 
 writers. It contains, even at the present moment, 
 worthy men who love you and who will welcome you ; 
 Academies, like everything else, will belong to the 
 coming generation. 
 
 In the mean while, I am the living gap by which 
 these ideas enter to-day, and through which these men 
 will pass to-morrow. 
 
 That, I can imagine, is of small importance to you 
 just now, who are living face to face with the ocean, 
 with nature, and with God ; but fall back towards us a 
 little ; turn your thoughts from great Etretat to little 
 Paris ; don't you think that we must be somewhat tired 
 of being governed in literature by M. Eoger, and in 
 politics by M. Fulchiron ? 
 
 I too love you, and most sincerely, for you have a 
 noble heart and a noble mind. 
 
 1 In Les Guepes Alphonse Karr had blamed Victor Hugo for wishing 
 to get into the Academy. 
 
26 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Scold Gatayes for me ; he has been of infinite service 
 to me, and now neglects me, ungrateful man ! 
 
 xxv. 
 
 To PIERRE VIN^ARD. 
 
 2d July, 1841. 
 
 DEAR SIR, As you do me the honor of sending 
 me your article, 1 I take it as a letter, and answer it. I 
 did not say " la populace ; " I said " les populaces" 
 This plural is of importance : there is a gilded populace 
 as well as a ragged one ; there is a populace in drawing- 
 rooms as well as in the streets. 
 
 In every stratum of society, the working, the think- 
 ing, the helpful element, that which aspires to good- 
 ness, justice, and truth, constitutes the people ; that 
 which is sunk in voluntary stagnation, which is igno- 
 rant from laziness, which does wrong willingly, is the 
 populace. 
 
 In the upper ranks, selfishness and idleness ; in the 
 lower ones, envy and sloth, that is the life of the 
 populace ; and, I repeat it, there is a populace in the 
 upper ranks as well as the lower ones. I therefore said 
 that we must love the people ; a more severe moralist 
 might perhaps have added, and hate the populace. I 
 confined myself to despising it. 
 
 But, dear sir, I do not despise the complaint of a 
 sterling and honest man, even when it is ill-founded; 
 I try to enlighten him ; it is a sacred duty for me. 
 You see that I endeavor to discharge it. 
 
 1 The subject of the article was Victor Hugo's speech on his reception 
 into the Academy. 
 
TO THE KEEPER OF THE ARCHIVES ISRAELITES. 27 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 To THE KEEPER OF THE ARCHIVES ISRAELITES. 1 
 
 SAINT-MANDE, 11$ June, 1843. 
 
 You have misunderstood me, dear sir, and I greatly 
 regret it, for it would be a real grief to me to have 
 pained a man like you, of so much worth, learning, and 
 character. The dramatic poet is also a historian, and 
 he can no more alter history than human nature. Now 
 the thirteenth century is a period of twilight ; it has 
 deep shadows, very little light, violence, crime, innumer- 
 able superstitions, and great barbarousness, everywhere. 
 The Jews were barbarous, so were the Christians ; the 
 Christians were the oppressors, the Jews were the 
 oppressed; the Jews retaliated. What else could be 
 expected ? It is the natural action of every compressed 
 spring and oppressed people. The Jews therefore re- 
 venged themselves in secret; legend or history, the 
 story of the little Saint-Werner child proves it. Rumor, 
 however, was worse than the truth ; popular report 
 exaggerated the facts ; hatred invented and slandered, 
 as it always does ; this is probable, indeed, certain, 
 but what is to be done ? One must describe periods as 
 they were : they were superstitious, credulous, ignorant, 
 barbarous ; one must follow their superstitions, their 
 credulity, their ignorance, their barbarousness. The 
 poet cannot help it; he simply says : It is the thirteenth 
 century, and this hint should be enough. 
 
 Is that equivalent to saying that in the present day 
 Jews kill and eat little children ? Why, dear sir, in 
 
 1 About the play of Les Bur graves, in which there is mention of a child 
 which the Jews are supposed to have stolen to kill on their Sabbath. 
 
28 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 these days Jews like you are full of learning and en- 
 lightenment, and Christians like me are full of esteem 
 and regard for Jews like you. So extend your forgive- 
 ness to Les Burgraves, dear sir, and accept my sincere 
 regards. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO, at Havre. 
 
 PARIS, Tuesday, 18th July, 1843. 
 
 I did right, dearest, in leaving Havre last Monday, 
 for the bills were already overdue, and I had great 
 difficulty in getting my money. I was obliged to put 
 off my departure, and I spent a week in most tiresome 
 negotiations. At last I have succeeded, and I am free 
 to start, which I shall do at once. 
 
 None the less I am truly sad when I think of the 
 week which I might have spent with you, my beloved 
 Adele, in the midst of my dear little colony at Havre, 
 and which I was obliged to sacrifice to this paltry sum 
 of six or seven hundred francs. The small annoyances 
 of life are often real troubles. And this is one of 
 them. 
 
 I was so happy all that day I spent at Havre ! so 
 completely and perfectly happy ! I saw you all full 
 of beauty, life, joy, and health ! * I felt I was loved 
 in that radiant circle. You looked your very best, and 
 were kind, sweet, and charming to me. My warmest 
 thanks to you for it. 
 
 I have been seeing Charlie almost every day this 
 week. I shall see him again shortly. He is just now 
 in for his examination (Latin prose), which he entered 
 
 1 Victor Hugo was never to see his daughter Ldopoldine again; she 
 was drowned at Villequier, while he was traveling. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 29 
 
 as head of his class. I am very pleased with him. We 
 spent Sunday together at Mme. de Villeneuve's, who 
 was delightful, and spoke of you in the warmest and 
 most feeling manner. It was the fete of Maisons. 
 Charles enjoyed it very much. I was sad amid all this 
 enjoyment. I could not help comparing this Sunday 
 with the last, and thinking how sweet, happy, and full 
 that one was. 
 
 In a month Charlie will be at your side; in two 
 months I shall be with you all. I wish these two 
 months were over. But I really need this journey. 
 Good-by, my darling Adele ; I will let you know soon 
 where to write to me. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 COGNAC, 2d September, 1843. 
 
 I am sending you a few lines, dearest, in great haste. 
 For the last week I have been traveling night and day 
 without stopping or taking any rest. I have left the 
 Pyrenees, I have been to Tarbes, Auch, Agen, Ber- 
 gerac, Perigueux, Angouleme, Jarnac, and I am going 
 to Saintes, then to La Rochelle, where I hope to find 
 nice letters from you and from the others, my dear 
 ones. I am writing to you alone this time, for my 
 eyes are sore from the dust and glare of the roads ; and 
 besides, I know what I write to you is for all, you 
 are the mother. So this letter is for everybody, as it 
 is for you. 
 
 At Luz I received a nice little letter from my darling 
 Didine. 1 As usual, it was full of love and happiness. 
 
 1 She died on the 4th of September. 
 
30 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 And I also got one from dear old Charlie. This year 
 has not come up to our hopes and his work ; he must 
 pluck up fresh courage for next year. People of spirit 
 may be eclipsed for a time, but cannot disappear alto- 
 gether ! So you must come to the front again, do 
 you see, dear Charlie. In the mean while, enjoy your- 
 self. And you too, my darling Toto, and you, my little 
 pet Dede. School-time is approaching ; make the most 
 of the holidays. 
 
 I shall be with you shortly. In about a fortnight 
 I shall be embracing you all, and we shall be together 
 again. I will tell you all my adventures. You will 
 tell me, as you used to do when you all four sat to- 
 gether on my knees, all your thoughts, your joys, your 
 wishes. My Toto will ask me a hundred questions, and 
 I will give him twice as many answers. Take care of 
 yourself, Toto. 
 
 Dearest, as I am returning so soon, my letters will 
 not be so frequent ; do not be surprised at this. Writ- 
 ing is but a poor substitute ; what I want is to embrace 
 you and have you all. 
 
 So good-by for the present only, my beloved ones. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 To MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN, at Les Roches. 
 
 SAUMUR, IQth September, 1843. 
 
 DEAR MADEMOISELLE LOUISE, I am suffering, I 
 am heart-broken ; my turn has come, you see. I feel 
 I must write to you, you who loved her 1 like a 
 second mother ; you know, too, how fond she was 
 of you. 
 
 1 His daughter Ldopoldine. 
 
TO MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 31 
 
 Yesterday I had just taken a long hot walk over the 
 marshes ; I was tired and thirsty ; I came into a village 
 called, I think, Subise, and went into a cafe. They 
 brought me a glass of beer and a paper, the Siecle. I 
 read the news. It was thus that I learnt that the best 
 part of my life and of my affections was dead. 
 
 I loved that poor child more than words can tell. 
 You remember how charming she was. She was the 
 sweetest, the most winning of creatures. 
 
 God, in what have I offended thee ? She was 
 too fortunate ; she had everything : beauty, intelligence, 
 youth, love. This perfect happiness made me tremble ; 
 I put up with my separation from her in order that 
 something might be lacking to her. There should 
 always be a cloud. This one was not enough. God 
 will not allow us to have paradise on earth. He has 
 taken her back. Oh, my poor darling ! to think I 
 shall never see her again. 
 
 Forgive me; I write to you in despair. But it is 
 some comfort to me. You are so kind, you have such 
 a lofty character, you will understand me, I am sure. 
 I am fondly attached to you, and when I suffer. I fly 
 to you. 
 
 1 shall arrive in Paris almost at the same time as this 
 letter. My poor wife and children sadly need me. 
 
 My kindest regards to you, 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 My love to kind Armand. May God keep him, and 
 may he never suffer as I do now. 
 
32 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To LOUIS BOULANGER. 
 
 SAUMUR, Wth September, [1843]. 
 
 DEAR Louis, I began a long letter to you, and 
 I am sending you a few lines. You will understand. 
 I write to you in the depths of despair. You are my 
 friend, and I must make you share this grief with me., 
 God has taken away the very light of our life and or 
 our home. Oh, my poor child, my poor darling, she 
 was too happy. I was right, then, in my thoughts 
 which so often dwelt on her, to be frightened at so 
 much happiness. Dear Louis, love me. I am hurry- 
 ing to Paris, but I wanted to write to you. Alas ! I 
 am broken-hearted. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 To VICTOR PAYEE. 
 
 PARIS, 17th September, [1843]. 
 
 I no longer live, my dear friend, I no longer think ; 
 I suffer ; my eyes are fixed on heaven ; I wait. 
 
 What beautiful and touching things you say to 
 me ! Hearts like yours understand everything be- 
 cause they contain everything. Alas ! what an angel 
 I have lost ! 
 
 Be happy ! be blest ! My blessing must be accept- 
 able to God, for in his kingdom the poor are rich and 
 the wretched great. 
 
 My fondest love to you. 
 
TO EDOUARD THIERRY. 33 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To ALPHONSE KARR,* at Sainte-Adresse. 
 
 PARIS, 18th September, 1843. 
 
 You have drawn tears from me at this dreadful 
 time ; you have harrowed me and relieved me ; thanks, 
 dear, noble Alphonse Karr. You have a great heart ; 
 you have spoken appropriately of her and of him. My 
 poor dear child ! Can you realize that I shall never see 
 her again ? 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 To EDOUARD THIERRY. 
 
 23d September, 1843. 
 
 We have both received a blow almost at the same 
 time, you in the loss of your brother, I in that of 
 my daughter. What can you say to me, and what 
 can I say to you ? Let us weep together, let us hope 
 together. Death has its revelations, the great sor- 
 rows which open the heart open the mind as well ; 
 light comes to us with our grief. As for me, I have 
 faith ; I believe in a future life. How could I do 
 otherwise ? My daughter was a soul ; I saw this soul; 
 I touched it, so to speak. It was with me for eighteen 
 years ; my eyes are still full of its radiance ; even in 
 this world she visibly belonged to the life above. I 
 suffer as you do ; hope as I do. 
 
 1 Alphonse Karr had hurried from Sainte-Adresse to Villequier, and 
 had written a touching account of the death of Ldopoldiue and her hus- 
 band, Charles Vacquerie, in Les Guepes. 
 
 VOL. II. 3 
 
34 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 xxxrv. 
 
 To CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 PARIS, 9th July, 1844. 
 
 Your excellent letter, my dear and venerable friend, 
 has done me more good than I can tell you. In the 
 deep melancholy in which I am plunged, the contem- 
 plation of an old man's soul, beautiful, strong, and 
 serene as yours, is a great help to bearing my life. 
 It is comforting and useful to us younger men, who are 
 afflicted and tried by Providence, to let our thoughts 
 rest on your white hairs, on your mature wisdom. 
 You, too, have lived, struggled, and suffered. Where 
 I have wounds, you have scars. Now you are calm, 
 contented, resigned, and happy, and you gaze mildly at 
 the majestic region whence come all the rays which 
 give light to our eyes, and all the misfortunes which 
 illumine our souls. For nothing is more true than that 
 misfortune brings understanding. How many things 
 have I seen in myself and outside myself since my 
 sorrow ! The highest hopes spring from the deepest 
 griefs. Let us thank God for having given us the 
 right to suffer, since it brings with it the right to hope. 
 
 As for you, my good and venerable friend, you are 
 happy already, even in this world. Your beautiful and 
 noble old age participates in the joys promised to the 
 elect. What can a blessed eternity give you better 
 than the noble and charming wife who loves and ad- 
 mires you, than the gentle, amiable, and noble children 
 whom you make happy, and who make you happy? 
 God is just. He has begun your Paradise on earth ; 
 for you death will be a continuation of it. 
 
TO THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 35 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 To VICTOR PAviE. 1 
 
 [November, 1844.] 
 
 Alas ! what a sad echo your heart awakens in mine ! 
 Like me, you are face to face with the great sorrow of 
 your life. To see one's flower wither, one's future 
 destroyed, one's hopes turned into despair ! Alas ! I 
 could not have wished such a thing for my worst 
 enemy ! why does Providence send this anguish to one 
 of my best and dearest friends? Let us repeat the 
 grand words : In a better land ! 
 
 My respects to the poor mother. V. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 To THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 
 
 [1845.] 
 
 Do you remember, my friend, what an outcry there 
 was when it was toward the end of the Restoration 
 some one you know took it into his head one fine 
 day, in some paper or other, and apropos of some dis- 
 cussion or other on art in the Middle Ages, to put 
 forth, in the presence of all the shaven chins of France 
 and Europe, a clear, explicit, and formal profession of 
 faith, without ambiguity or reserve, in favor of the 
 beard ? 
 
 God, he said, if my memory serves me, God wished 
 to make, and has made, the head of man beautiful. He 
 raised the forehead to give room for the intelligence ; 
 He kindled the glance under the arch of the eyebrow, 
 
 1 On the death of his young daughter, Elizabeth Pavie. 
 
36 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 as a lamp shining in the deep and mysterious cavern 
 of thought ; He placed pride, disdain, and passion in 
 the open and mobile nostril, grace in the expressive 
 and smiling mouth, dignity in the transparent and 
 calm cheeks, serenity and reflection in the prominent 
 and well-cut chin ; and on the whole countenance He 
 stamped the serenity and strength of a nature which 
 knows and understands itself. But this head of man, 
 of Adam, which God has made beautiful, society tends 
 to make ugly. Society, civilization, the whole group 
 of complicated and necessary phenomena due to the 
 healthy and normal labor of the mind and to the aber- 
 rations of moral liberty, leave their mark on the human 
 face. The calculations of interest take the place of 
 the speculations of the intellect ; when the inmate 
 dwindles in size the house shrinks; so the brow be- 
 comes narrow and low. When interest has superseded 
 intelligence, pride disappears, the nostril contracts ; the 
 eye grows dull, the pupil remains, but the expres- 
 sion is gone ; the glass is there, but not the lamp. 
 The nose is crushed, becomes flat or prominent, and 
 has a tendency to get farther from the mouth as in 
 the animal, a distressing sign of stupidity. A number 
 of infirmities and complaints incidental to civilization 
 and unknown in a state of nature for animals never 
 have anything the matter with their jaws attack the 
 mouth, wither the lips, blacken the teeth, and poison 
 the breath. The eye has just lost its expression, the 
 mouth loses its smile. Finally, the chin becomes shape- 
 less and retires into the background ; for in the line of 
 the human profile the chin follows the fortunes of the 
 forehead, of which it is, at the bottom of the face, the 
 
TO THEOPHILE GAUTIEK 37 
 
 expressive complement, advancing when the forehead is 
 developed, retreating when it contracts, a melan- 
 choly and humiliating transformation which inevitably 
 goes on from generation to generation. But God had 
 foreseen this transformation. This ugliness, bred of 
 civilization, which in course of time overlays the beauty 
 of the natural man, God wished from the beginning to 
 palliate and hide, and for that purpose He gave to 
 man, the very day on which He created him, that 
 splendid mask of folly ,^ the beardj What a number 
 of things, in fact, are concealed by the beard, to the 
 great advantage of the human face : the sunken cheeks, 
 the retreating chin, the faded lips, the contracted nos- 
 trils, the distance from the nose to the mouth, the 
 toothless gums, the smile which has lost its charm. 
 Substitute for all these horrors, some of which are 
 plagues and others ridiculous, a rich and splendid 
 growth which frames and fills out the face by continu- 
 ing the hair of the head, and mark the effect. Equi- 
 librium is reestablished, beauty returns. The moral is 
 that a man's head must indeed be beautiful, modeled 
 by intelligence and illumined by thought, to be beauti- 
 ful without a beard ; that a human face must indeed 
 be ugly, irredeemably disfigured by pettiness and vul- 
 garity, to be ugly with a beard. Therefore, let your 
 beards grow, all ye who are ugly and who wish to be 
 handsome I 
 
 When the writer in question had penned these bold 
 and memorable words, like the brave and gallant man 
 that he is, he did not retreat ; he did not flinch. An- 
 other man, foreseeing, as he foresaw it, the storm about 
 
38 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 to break over his head, might, perhaps, have preferred 
 repose to glory, and thrown the pages into the fire. 
 He, seeing them written, thought they were to the 
 point and worth publishing, and like an honest man 
 who takes a serious step, he signed them. But, what- 
 ever may have been his expectation, the event sur- 
 passed it. The matter was even more serious than he 
 had supposed. You shoot at a sparrow, and kill a 
 partridge. He imagined he had only made a profession 
 of faith. He had issued a proclamation. When this 
 audacious and shameless declaration appeared, you rec- 
 ollect, my friend, what a grand hubbub there was ! 
 what a frightful battle ! what a glorious row ! what a 
 magnificent uproar ! The war of the chins against the 
 beards broke out. For twelve long months the noise 
 in the papers was deafening. 
 
 Every question the Greek question, the Balkans 
 question, the Neapolitan question, the Eastern ques- 
 tion, the Spanish question disappeared in a flood of 
 pamphlets and articles, under the beard question. A 
 few young artists, painters, sculptors, and musicians, 
 intrepid and intelligent pioneers of every idea, had the 
 courage to put the theory into practice, and left off 
 shaving. Then came a fresh deluge of prose, verse, 
 satire, ballads, couplets, and caricatures. The rain 
 turned into hail. When the bearded ones passed by 
 on the boulevards or the street crossings, women turned 
 away their heads, old men raised their eyes to heaven, 
 the street urchins hooted the man with a beard. There 
 were pen-duels and sword-duels. Fighting exasperated 
 the combatants ; their bile rose, and for the space of 
 a whole year they sneezed epigrams, as Piron says. 
 
TO THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 39 
 
 Providence was severely taken to task for having in- 
 vented beards. The man adorned with this appendage 
 was called a goat. The beard was declared to be ugly, 
 foolish, dirty, filthy, foul, repulsive, ridiculous, unpa- 
 triotic, Jewish, frightful, abominable, hideous, and, 
 what was then the ne plus ultra of abuse, romantic 1^ 
 
 All the diseases of the scalp were raked up, 
 the plica of the Poles, the leprosy of the Hebrews, the 
 mentagra of the Komans. It was said that with the 
 beard the variety of the human physiognomy would 
 disappear ; that all faces would be alike ; that there 
 would be only four types of head left, the dark, the 
 fair, the gray, and the red ; that when this came to 
 pass man would be hideous in the eyes of woman, and 
 that Adam with a beard would be so ill-favored that 
 Eve would not look at him. It was said that a really 
 handsome man would never have recourse to this ex- 
 pedient of hiding half of his face, and that the only 
 really fine heads were those which could do without a 
 beard. It was said that never would one of the great 
 rulers of the world, with his Roman profile, laurel-girt 
 brow, deep-set eyes, and imperial cheeks, have dreamed 
 of hiding his projecting chin, with its severe and pen- 
 sive beauty, under a mass of hair; and that every 
 emperor, from Caesar down to Napoleon, had shaved 
 his chin. 
 
 From the outset the shrill-voiced and venerable 
 school which upholds " sound doctrines," " taste," the 
 " grand age," " the tender Racine," etc., etc., etc., had 
 intervened in the dispute. It had pronounced the \ 
 beard 'romantic ; it declared the shaven chin classic. \ 
 After a year of rage and fury, it proclaimed its victory 
 
40 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 by asserting in a triumphant and absolute manner that 
 never would France, never would " the most intelli- 
 gent people in the world," adopt the odious fashion of 
 letting the beard grow. 
 
 Fifteen years have passed. The same thing has 
 happened which always befalls the victories of the 
 classic school. Nowadays everybody in France wears 
 a beard. 
 
 Everybody, except, perhaps, the man who started 
 this grand quarrel and achieved this great success. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To THE EDITOR or THE PHARE DE LA LOIRE. 
 
 1845. 
 
 You think I am a rich man, dear sir? Listen to 
 this. I have been working for twenty-eight years, for 
 I began when I was fifteen. During those twenty- 
 eight years I have earned about five hundred thousand 
 francs by my pen. I inherited nothing from my father ; 
 my stepmother and the lawyers kept what there was. 
 I might have brought an action, but against whom ? 
 Against a person who bore my father's name. I pre- 
 ferred to submit to spoliation. For eight and twenty 
 years I have not rested for two consecutive months. 
 I have educated my four children. M.Villemain offered 
 me scholarships for my sons, and the St. Denis school 
 for my daughters. I refused, as I was in a position to 
 educate my children at my own expense, and I did not 
 wish to saddle the State with what I could pay myself. 
 
 To-day, of these five hundred thousand francs there 
 remain three hundred thousand. These three hundred 
 thousand francs I have invested, capitalized, as they 
 
TO ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 41 
 
 say, and I do not touch them, for I have worked too 
 hard to live to be old, and I do not want my wife and 
 children to receive pensions when I am dead. I live 
 on the interest. I still write, which increases my income 
 a little, and I support eleven persons, all liabilities 
 and charges included. Add eighty-three francs a month 
 as member of the Institute, which I was forgetting. 
 I owe no one anything. I have never made a traffic 
 of anything. I spend a little in charity, as much as 
 I can. Those around me want for nothing. As for 
 myself, I wear overcoats which cost twenty-five francs, 
 I wear my hats rather too long, I work without a fire 
 in winter, and I go to the Chamber 1 on foot. 
 
 I am grateful, however. I have always possessed the 
 two blessings without which I could not live, a tran- 
 quil conscience and complete independence. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 To ABS^E HOUSSAYE. 
 
 6th February, 1847. 
 
 Madame Victor Hugo has told me of the terrible 
 blow which has just befallen you. My dear poet, I 
 send you, as well as the poor mother, my warmest and 
 deepest sympathy. I know too well what suffering is 
 to be able to console. You have lost the angel of the 
 house, the flower, the joy, the sweet spring of life ! 
 Alas ! I have experienced the same calamity. You 
 will issue from it as I have done ; life falls into its old 
 groove because God wills it. 
 
 We are the slaves of destiny and thought. We go 
 
 1 Victor Hugo had been raised to the Chambre des Pairs by Louis \ 
 Philippe on the 13th of April, 1845. 
 
42 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 hither and thither, we work, we even smile ; but, what- 
 ever we do, there is always a sad and sombre thing in 
 the heart, the memory of the departed child. God 
 help you, dear poet ! I can only give you my hand, 
 and bow my head to your affliction as to my own. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 To LAMARTINE. 
 
 24ft March, 1847. 
 
 Incedo per ignes. All that I have read of your 
 book 1 is magnificent. Here at last is the Revolution 
 treated by a historian on a footing of equality. You 
 apprehend these giants ; you grasp these huge events 
 with ideas which are on a par with them. They are 
 immense ; but you are great. 
 
 Occasionally, however, for the good of the just and 
 holy popular cause which we love and which we both 
 serve, I could wish that you were more severe. You 
 are so strong that you can be, you are so noble that 
 you ought to be. But I am dazzled with the book, and 
 delighted with its success. 
 
 XL. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 Sunday, 27ft February, [1848]. 2 
 
 DEAR AND ILLUSTRIOUS FRIEND, I had gone to 
 greet you in the public square while you came to my 
 house to shake me by the hand. I return you your 
 greeting. 
 
 You are doing great things. The abolition of capital 
 punishment, this signal lesson given by a joewlj born 
 
 1 Histoire des Girondins. ^ * After the Revolution of 1848. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 43 
 
 Republic to the old time-honored monarchies, is a 
 grand achievement. 
 
 I applaud with hands and heart. 
 
 You have the genius of the poet, the genius of the 
 writer, the genius of the orator ; you have wisdom and 
 courage. You are a great man. 
 
 I admire you and love you. 
 
 XLI. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 24tfi June, [1848]/'' 
 FROM THE ASSEMBLY, 2 8 o'clock in the morning. 
 
 DEAREST, I spent the night at the Assembly, await- 
 ing events. This morning, at six, I tried to join you 
 and embrace you all in the Place Royale. I managed 
 to get as far as the Hotel de Ville by way of the quay, 
 through a few volleys of musketry. I spoke to General 
 Duvivier, and pushed on to the entrance of the Rue 
 Saint-Antoine. Here, on the Place Baudoyer, there 
 were barricades guarded by troops of the line. Shots 
 were being exchanged. The officers implored me not 
 to go further, and a representative who came up pointed 
 out to me that if I did so I ran the risk of falling into 
 the hands of the insurgents, who might perhaps keep 
 me as a hostage, which would embarrass the Assembly. 
 I turned back, in great distress, and very anxious about 
 my dear Place Royale. All the National Guards, and 
 a professor at the Charlemagne College who was on 
 the barricade, assured me that the Place Royale was 
 
 1 The first day of the insurrection. 
 
 2 Victor Hugo had been elected a member of the Assemblee Constitu- 
 ante on the 4th of June, 1848. 
 
44 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 quiet. I Lope that by this evening the road will be 
 free, and that you will see me again ; my thoughts are 
 with you all. 
 
 What a terrible thing ! and how sad to think that 
 all this blood shed on both sides is that of brave and 
 generous men ! Tell Charles not to run too many 
 risks. Let him do his duty, as I do mine, but avoid 
 all imprudence. 
 
 We are sitting permanently ; the Assembly will re- 
 sume work in a few minutes. 
 
 XLII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 2,5th June, [1848], a quarter to nine. 
 
 Here is the news. The situation is serious. To- 
 day's fighting will be fiercer than yesterday's. The 
 number of the insurgents has increased. Troops from 
 the suburbs and fresh regiments have arrived. All the 
 National Guards within a radius of sixty leagues are on 
 the move and coming to defend Paris. 
 
 It is thought, however, that the events of to-day will 
 be decisive. But what a sad ending for so many hon- 
 est fellows killed on both sides ! 
 
 Bixio was shot in the chest yesterday, and Domes 
 in the groin. Both are dying. Clement Thomas and 
 Bedeau are wounded. And then so many worthy 
 National Guards ! And the poor misguided workmen ! 
 We have just decreed that the Republic shall provide 
 for the widows and orphans. 
 
 Do not be anxious, dearest. All will be well. Calm 
 my Dede. I embrace you all with a sad heart. 
 
TO CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 45 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 [26$ June, 1848. 1 ] 
 
 DEAREST, I am in terrible anxiety. Where are 
 you? What has become of you? For two days I have 
 been prowling day and night in your neighborhood 
 without being able to get to you. I am tortured by 
 suspense. Send me one line, just to say you are all 
 safe and well. I can hardly breathe. Give me full 
 accounts of everybody. 
 
 I have been here for the last four and twenty hours 
 with a mandate of order, peace, and conciliation. 2 God 
 is helping and will help us. France will be saved. 
 
 Above all, be easy on my account. I am well, 
 though worn out with fatigue. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 To CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 FROM THE ASSEMBLY, 1st July, 1848. 
 
 We are all safe and sound, my dear old friend. God 
 did not want my life, for I gladly risked it to arrest 
 this disastrous effusion of French blood. I write to 
 you in haste from the vortex called the Assembly. My 
 wife sends her best love to yours. We are moving 
 to-day. In future write to me at No. 5, Rue d'Isly. 
 My kindest regards to yourself. 
 
 1 Written in pencil. 
 
 2 Victor Hugo was one of the commissioners appointed by the Assem- 
 bly on the 24th of June to make known to the population of Paris the 
 steps which had been taken. On the 24th and 25th of June he had been 
 at the barricades, haranguing the insurgents. 
 
46 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 To ULRIC GUTTINGUEE. 
 
 FROM THE ASSEMBLY, Wth July, 1848. 
 
 DEAR ULRIC, we are out of the fray, but still in the 
 uproar. I think of you among your trees and flowers, 
 and I write to you. You witness the tempests of the 
 ocean ; I see storms of another kind, and I envy you. 
 
 But let us take heart. It is impossible that civiliza- 
 tion should collapse, but humanity must make an effort. 
 The wound is deep and dangerous, but who dare say to 
 the Supreme Healer, Thou canst not cure it ? 
 
 For my part, I hope. I hoped during the insurrec- 
 tion, under a storm of bullets ; I continued to hope, 
 when I knew my family was in the power of the insur- 
 gents. I trusted in God. Not a shot touched me, not 
 one of my family came to harm. 
 
 Dear poet, dear thinker, it is not necessary to teach 
 charity, love, and faith to you. I am only repeating 
 your own maxims. Yes, the new preachers of pillage 
 I and robbery are execrable, Vmt flm people is g-n^rl 
 
 Oh ! how I long to be near you, amid nature, with 
 my family, with yours ! Alas ! I am grinding here at 
 the fatal revolutionary mill. I shall perhaps be among 
 the first to be crushed by it, but I wish it to crush a 
 heart full of confidence and love. V. 
 
 XLVI. 
 
 To LAMABTINE. 
 
 July, 1848. 
 
 MY ILLUSTRIOUS FRIEND, You have treated my 
 son as I should have treated yours. You spontaneously 
 
TO CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 47 
 
 placed him near your person, you made him one of 
 your private secretaries, and you loaded him with all 
 the kindness your great heart could dictate. I thank 
 you most warmly. The time which he spent with you 
 will be one of the proudest moments of his life. 
 
 On leaving office, you offered to make my son an 
 attache to the Brazilian Legation. I now learn that 
 the execution of your plan has met with an unexpected 
 obstacle, and that M. Bastide, the Minister for For- 
 eign Affairs, has democratic scruples about me and 
 demurs to my name. Allow me to put an end to this 
 hesitation in the only suitable way possible. I am 
 writing to the Minister for Foreign Affairs to-day to* 
 beg him not to appoint my son. 
 
 My son is returning to the Minister at the same time 
 his nomination for diplomatic employment. He will 
 keep what was most precious about it in his eyes, the 
 recollection of having received it from you. 
 
 I press your hand, dear Lamartine, and I renew the 
 assurance of my profound admiration and long-stand- 
 ing friendship. 
 
 XL VII. 
 
 To CHARLES DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 FROM THE ASSEMBLY, 13th February, [1849]. 
 
 You look on affairs, my venerable friend, with the 
 clear and quiet glance of minds accustomed to contem- 
 plation and reflection. Men like you begin by judg- 
 ing and end by loving. As he grows old the historian 
 softens and becomes a philosopher. Even your severity 
 bears the stamp of kindness. You do not condemn 
 things because you understand men. 
 
 But this placid serenity in no way detracts from 
 
48 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 your warm-heartedness, and when our errors and follies 
 deserve reprobation, your censure weighs all the more 
 heavily on bad men because it proceeds from an in- 
 dulgent mind. 
 
 The history which we are making does not deserve 
 a historian like you. So I congratulate you on spend- 
 ing your life quietly at home in meditation and the 
 composition of poetry. But send me, who am in the 
 fight, a word of encouragement from time to time. 
 The battle is not yet over. We who are in the thick 
 of the fray still need strength and determination. As 
 for me, my heart is divided between fear and hope. 
 I have profound faith in the future of civilization and 
 of France, but I do not hide from myself what the 
 storm may bring. We may founder, as we may reach 
 the land ; I believe in two possibilities : a fearful ship- 
 wreck, a splendid port. May God conduct us ! but let 
 us help God. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 
 To GUSTAVE D'ElCHTAL. 
 
 26th Octobe^ 1849. 
 
 The ideas which are in your mind are in mine too. 
 I even go further. But is it possible in these days to 
 say everything at once ? When the flame is low, too 
 much oil puts out the lamp. There are things which 
 must not be mentioned, gleams of light which must be 
 veiled, prospects which must be concealed, future reali- 
 ties which would be chimeras for the present age. 
 Man cannot bear nudity in any form, the nudity of the 
 future no more than any other. This luminous nudity 
 would dazzle him. The reason is that he long ago lost, 
 and is only slowly recovering, the feeling for and the 
 love of the ideal. 
 
TO HENRI DE LACRETELLE. 49 
 
 We must all labor to restore him this feeling for and 
 love of the jdeal^ We must not despair ; quite the 
 reverse. We have already lifted a corner of the veil 
 in the JPeace Congress, i I tried to raise another in the 
 debate on Rome. Little" by little light breaks in, and, 
 thanks to the courageous efforts of those who think, 
 our _aga, at first so incredulous and ironical, begins 
 to get accustomed to the brightness of the future. 
 
 You belong to those who decipher this great un- 
 known, which is dark for the weak and radiant for the 
 strong. You belong to those who affirm and hope. 
 I rejoice to feel, like you, full of faith, that is, full of 
 love. The ultra-Catholics of our day have no faith, 
 and the proof of it is that they are full of hatred. 
 Their eyes are blinded, and their hearts are turned to 
 stone. Let us pity them, and let us pray to God that 
 the great destinies of mankind may be accomplished 
 soon enough to make them, in spite of themselves, 
 happy and confident. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 To HENRI DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 FROM THE ASSEMBLY, 1 3d fune, 1850. 
 
 Thanks, dear poet. What a good comforting mes- 
 sage you sent me ! The contest is keen, the enemy 
 is full of ardor, hatred is bellowing its loudest, but 
 how sweet is your greeting in the midst of the tumult ! 
 At this moment, while I am writing to you, I hear the 
 bark of the Right ; my thoughts go out to yours 
 through all this uproar, and I seem to feel the gentle 
 influence of your serenity. 
 
 1 The Assemblee Legislative, to which Victor Hugo had been elected in 
 1849. 
 
 VOL. n. 4 
 
50 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 How blest you are among your flowers and trees, 
 with the conversation of your good father, with the 
 smiles of your charming wife ! You have nature, 
 poetry, love, happiness. We have the spectacle of rage 
 in the Senate, and disgrace in the laws. How mean 
 and petty is the moment through which we are passing. 
 Happily, the age is great. 
 
 Write us some fine verses, send me some noble let- 
 ters, and love me. 
 
 L. 
 
 To MlCHELET. 1 
 
 Saturday, 29^ March, 1851. 
 
 I was deeply pained on Thursday, my dear and elo- 
 quent colleague, pained to hear such things said from 
 the tribune, and pained to be unable to reply to them. 
 An indisposition which I could not overcome kept me 
 glued to my seat. 
 / Freedom of thought has been gagged in your per- 
 son, freedom of conscience has been cashiered in that 
 of M. Jacques ; philosophy, reason, history, law, the 
 three great centuries of emancipation, the sixteenth, the 
 seventeenth, and the eighteenth, have been gainsaid ; 
 the nineteenth has been defied ; all this was cheered by 
 the party which commands a majority, all this was up- 
 held, explained, commented on, glorified, for the space 
 of two hours, by one M. Giraud, who is, I am told, 
 your colleague and mine at the Institut ; all this was 
 said and done by the Minister who represents educa- 
 tion in France, in the tribune which instructs the 
 world ! I left the Chamber ashamed and indignant. 
 
 1 Michelet's course of lectures at the College de France had been sus- 
 pended by the Government. 
 
TO MME. CHAPMAN. 51 
 
 I send you my protest ; I should like to send it to 
 all the noble and generous youths who love and ad- 
 mire you. 
 
 I congratulate you on being persecuted for the holy 
 cause of the French Revolution and the human mind. 
 
 LI. 
 To MRS. MARIA CHAPMAN. 
 
 12th May, 1851. 
 
 MADAM, You are good enough to believe that a 
 word from me, in this sacred cause of emancipation, 
 may have some influence on the great American people 
 whom I love so deeply, and whose destinies are, in my 
 opinion, linked to the mission of France. You wish 
 me to make my voice heard. I do it at once, and will 
 do so on every occasion. 
 
 I have hardly anything to add to your letter. I 
 could indorse every line of it. Continue your sacred 
 task. All great minds and good hearts are on your 
 side. 
 
 I agree with you that it is impossible that the United 
 States of America should not, within a certain time, 
 before long, give up slavery. Slavery in such a 
 country ! Was there ever such a monstrous contradic- 
 tion ? It is barbarism installed in the very heart of a 
 society the whole of which is the affirmation of civiliza- 
 tion. Liberty in chains, blasphemy proceeding from 
 the altar, the negro's fetters riveted to the pedestal of 
 Washington's statue ! It is unheard of. I go further : 
 it is impossible. It is a phenomenon which will disap- 
 pear of itself. The light of the nineteenth century is 
 sufficient to dissolve it. 
 
52 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 What ! slavery legalized in the illustrious nation 
 which for the last sixty years has demonstrated pro- 
 gress by its advance and liberty by its prosperity ! 
 Slavery in the United States ! It is the duty of this 
 great republic to set this bad example no longer. It 
 is a disgrace, and she is not one of those that hang 
 the head ! It is not for young nations to harbor 
 slavery when old ones are discarding it. What ! slavery 
 is to quit Turkey and remain in America ! The pashas 
 are turning it out, and the country of Franklin is to 
 adopt it ! No, a thousand times no ! 
 / There is an inflexible logic which develops more or 
 ' less slowly, which fashions, which rectifies after a 
 mysterious pattern of which great minds have a glimpse 
 and which is the ideal of civilization mankind, facts, 
 laws, manners, peoples ; or, to express it better, under 
 human institutions there are divine ones. Let all gen- 
 erous hearts take courage ! 
 
 The United States must either give up slavery or 
 give up liberty ! They will not give up liberty ! They 
 must either give up slavery or the gospel. They will 
 not give up the gospel ! 
 
 Accept, madam, with my warmest adhesion to the 
 cause, the homage of my respect. 
 
 LII. 
 
 To MONSIEUR PARTARRIEU-LAFOSSE, President of the Assize 
 
 Court. 
 
 5th June, 1851. 
 
 MONSIEUR LE PRESIDENT, My son Charles Hugo 
 has been cited to appear before the Assize Court of 
 which you are the presiding judge, on Tuesday, the 
 
i 
 
 TO ANGELO BROFFERIO. 53 
 
 10th of June, on a charge of having failed in the re- 
 spect due to the laws, in an article 1 on the execution 
 of the condemned criminal Montcharmont. 2 
 
 My son desires to be defended by me, and I wish to 
 defend him. 
 
 In accordance with section 295 of the Code of Crim- 
 inal Procedure I apply to you for permission to do so. 
 
 Receive the assurance of my distinguished consider- 
 ation. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 i 
 To ANGELO BROFFERIO. 
 
 PARIS, 7th August, 1851. 
 
 DEAR AND ELOQUENT COLLEAGUE, I have been a 
 long while answering your letter ; but you know what 
 a stormy time we have gone through. Last month the 
 Eepublic, liberty, progress, all the principles and truths 
 of the nineteenth century were called in question. For 
 a whole week I had to stand in this great breach and 
 repulse the furious assault of the past on the present 
 and the future. 
 
 With God's help we have conquered. The old 
 parties have beat a retreat, and the Revolution has 
 gained all the ground which they have lost. You 
 know all this good news already, but it is a pleasure to 
 me to tell it to you again, to you, Brofferio, who carry 
 the standard of the people and of liberty so high aloft 
 and so proudly in thes^^li^ent of PjejjjqiQB^ 
 
 1 The article was signed by Charles Hugo and published in the Evene- 
 ment, the newspaper founded by Victor Hugo in 1848. Victor Hugo 
 defended his son, and made a speech against capital punishment. The 
 jury found Charles Hugo guilty, and the court sentenced him to six 
 months' imprisonment and to pay a fine of 500 francs. 
 
 2 A poacher, who had killed two gendarmes and a forester. 
 
54 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Dear colleague, for we are colleagues ; besides the 
 mandate of our countries we have the mandate of hu- j *~ 
 manity, dear and eloquent colleague, I thank you for 
 the courage with which you inspire me, I congratulate 
 you on the progress which you are achieving, and I 
 press your two hands in mine. 
 
II. THE COUP D'ETAT. LETTERS FEOM BRUSSELS. 
 
 1851-1852. 
 
 [THE coup d'6tat of the 2d of December breaks out. 
 In the morning of that day Victor Hugo leaves his 
 house in the Eue de la Tour d'Auvergne and joins the 
 representatives of the Left for the twelve days' struggle 
 related in L'Histoire d'un crime. 
 
 On the 4th, communications are still uninterrupted. 
 He sends Mme. Victor Hugo the following note in 
 pencil.] 
 
 i. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 [Wi December, 1851.] 
 
 DEAREST, I spent the night with an excellent 
 friend of the Davidal family, M. de la Roellerie. 
 Thank them warmly on my behalf. Yesterday evening 
 I presided over the meeting of the Left. Nothing is 
 hopeless. I am starting this morning for the Faubourg 
 Saint-Antoine. 
 
 In God's keeping ! 
 
 [Madame Victor Hugo was left without news for 
 several days. Subsequently she received, through an 
 indirect channel, under the name of Madame Riviere, 
 the two following letters.] 
 
56 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 II. 
 
 Sunday, 7th December, [1851]. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, M. Riviere was obliged to leave 
 without bidding you good-by. He requests me to let 
 you know this. He intends, however, to write to you 
 himself as soon as he has a moment to spare, and it will 
 be a pleasure to him to express all that he feels for you. 
 
 As he was unable to find the portress when he was 
 leaving, he begs you to be so good as to give her from 
 him a gratuity of five francs, which Mme. Riviere will 
 repay you the first time you see her. Kindly tell Mme. 
 Riviere that her husband is well, that he sends her, as 
 well as his daughter and his sons, his fondest love, and 
 that he will write to them all soon. 
 
 M. Riviere sends you his kindest regards. 
 
 ALBERT DURAND. 
 
 M. Riviere begs you to show this letter to his wife. 
 
 in. 
 
 Monday, Sth December, [1851]. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, M. Riviere is in good health, 
 but he found so much to do on his arrival that he 
 cannot write to you yet. 
 
 He bids me do it in his stead, requesting you at the 
 same time to let his wife and children know. In the 
 present state of affairs a little more time will be required 
 for business to revive ; everything, however, may come 
 right eventually. 
 
 Tell Mme. and Mile. Riviere that M. Riviere sends 
 them his best love and hopes to see them soon. 
 
 Your friend, ALBERT DURAND. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 57 
 
 rv. 
 
 To " MADAME RIVIERE " (MME. VICTOR HUGO). 
 
 BRUSSELS, 12th December, [1851]. 7 A. M. 
 
 A line in haste, dearest. I am here. It was no 
 easy matter. Write to me at the following address : 
 M. Lanvin, Bruxelles, poste restante. 
 
 If you have any. letters for me, keep them all, and 
 do not give them to any one. I will let you know how 
 you can send them to me later on. 
 
 I hope that you have seen our dear children again. 
 Send me detailed news. Take good care of all my 
 papers. What has happened at home ? 
 
 My keys will be delivered to you. You will find the 
 securities in a portfolio on the red box in my lacquered 
 wardrobe (your father's). Take great care of them. 
 
 Collect and take the utmost care of everything in 
 the chest at the side of my bed. They are diaries, 
 the only copies I have. In the covered chest near my 
 table there are some things of great value. I com- 
 mend them to you. 
 
 What I commend to you above all is to be of good 
 heart. I know that you have a lofty, strong nature. 
 Tell my beloved children that my heart is with them. 
 Tell my little Adele that I do not want her to get pale 
 or thin. Let her be calm. The future belongs to the 
 good. 
 
 My warmest greetings to our friends, to Auguste, 
 to Meurice, 1 to his charming wife. I close this letter 
 at once, so that it may reach you to-day. 
 
 1 Auguste Vacquerie and Paul Meurice were, at this moment, in the 
 Conciergerie prison with Charles and Francois- Victor Hugo. 
 
58 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 V. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 BRUSSELS, Sunday, l&th [December, 1851]. 3 P. M. 
 
 I open your letter, dearest, and answer it at once. 
 Do not be uneasy. The drawings l are in safety. / 
 have them with me here, and so I shall be able to go 
 on with my work. I had put them into another port- 
 manteau. I took them with me when I left Paris. 
 
 For twelve days I have been betwixt life and death, 
 but I have not had a moment's uneasiness. I have 
 been satisfied with myself. And then I know that I 
 have done my duty, and that I have done it thoroughly. 
 That is a source of satisfaction. I met with complete 
 devotion from those around me. Sometimes my life 
 was at the mercy of ten persons at once. A word might 
 have ruined me, but it was never spoken. 
 
 I owe an immense deal to M. and Mme. de M , 
 
 whom I mentioned to you. It was they who saved me 
 at the most critical moment. Pay a very friendly visit 
 
 to Mme. de M . She lives near you, at No. 2, Rue 
 
 Navarin. Some day I will tell you all that they did 
 
 for me. In the mean while you cannot show yourself 
 
 too grateful to them. It was all the more meritorious 
 
 I on their part because they are in the other camp, and 
 
 the service they rendered me might have seriously 
 
 \ compromised them. Give them credit for all this, and 
 
 | be very nice to Mme. de M and her husband, who 
 
 is the best of men. The mere sight of him will make 
 you like him. He is another Abel. 2 
 
 1 By drawings Victor Hugo meant his manuscripts. 
 fl Abel Hugo, the poet's son. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 59 
 
 Send me detailed news of my dear children, of my 
 daughter, who must have suffered much. Tell them 
 all to write to me. The poor boys must have been 
 very uncomfortable in prison, owing to the crowding. 
 Has any fresh severity been practiced on them ? Write 
 to me about it. I know that you go to see them every 
 day. Do you still dine with our dear colony ? l 
 
 I am putting up here at the Hotel de la Porte-Verte, 
 room No. 9. I have for neighbor a worthy and cour- 
 ageous refugee representative, Versigny. He has room 
 No. 4. Our doors are close to each other. I lead the 
 life of an anchorite. I have a tiny bed, two straw- 
 bottomed chairs, and no fire. My total expenses amount 
 to three francs a day, everything included. Versigny 
 lives as I do. 
 
 Tell my Charles that he must become quite a man. 
 In the days when I carrie^ niy life in my hand I 
 thought of him. He might at any moment have be- 
 come the head of the family, the support of you all. 
 He must think of this. 
 
 Live sparingly. Make the money which I left you 
 last a long time. I have venough in prospect to get 
 on here for some months. 
 
 Yesterday I saw the Minister of the Interior, M. Ch. 
 Rogier, who paid me a visit in the Rue Jean-Goujon 
 twenty years ago. When I came in I said to him 
 laughingly, " I have come to return your visit." 
 
 He was very cordial. I told him that I had a duty, 
 to write the history of what has happened, at once and 
 while it was fresh. As actor, eye-witness, and judge, 
 I am the historian for it. That I could not accept 
 
 1 The four prisoners in the Conciergerie. 
 
60 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 any condition as to residence. That they might expel 
 me if they chose. That, however, I should only publish 
 this historical work on condition of its not aggravat- 
 ing the condition of my sons, who are in the man's 
 power at this moment. He might torture them, in 
 fact. 
 
 Let me know your views. If anything from my pen 
 can in any way inconvenience them, I will be silent. 
 In that case I will confine myself to finishing my 
 book Les Miseres here. Who knows, perhaps this was 
 the only chance of finishing it. We must never accuse 
 or judge Providence. What a blessing, for instance, 
 that my sons were in prison during the events of the 
 3d and the 4th ! 
 
 M. Rogier told me that if I published this work now 
 my presence might be a serious embarrassment to Bel- 
 gium, a small state with a powerful and overbearing 
 neighbor. I said : " In that case, if I decide to publish 
 it, I will go to London." 
 
 We parted good friends. He offered me some shirts. 
 I certainly need some. I have no clothes nor linen. 
 Take my empty portmanteau and put my things in it, 
 my new stocking trousers, my trousers that are not 
 new, my old gray ones, my coat, my big frogged sur- 
 tout, the hood of which you will find on the carved 
 bench, and my new shoes. Besides the pair at 
 home, I ordered another of Kuhn, my bootmaker, in 
 the Rue de Valois, three weeks ago. Get them and 
 pay for them (eighteen francs), and put them in the 
 portmanteau. 
 
 Padlock the trunk. I will let you know later on 
 how you are to send it to me. 
 
TO MME. VICTOK HUGO. 61 
 
 Perhaps it will be advisable for you to come here 
 for a few days, to settle a number of matters of im- 
 portance, which it is impossible to write about. If you 
 agree, we will discuss it in our next letters. 
 
 I must close ; the post is going. I seem to have 
 forgotten a great many things. Dearest, I know that 
 you have been full of courage and dignity in these 
 terrible days. Go on as you have begun. You win 
 the respect of all. Let me know about Victor's and 
 A dele's health. As for Charles, he is made of iron. 
 
 Give them all my best love, and press the generous 
 hands of Auguste and of Paul Meurice. 
 
 My fondest love to you. Do not forget the visit to 
 the M 's. 
 
 VI. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 BRUSSELS, Sunday morning, 28th December, [1851]. 
 
 Dumas is going to Paris, and undertakes to deliver 
 this letter to you. Dearest, I hope that you are all 
 well there. I shall, perhaps, find some of your letters 
 at the post to-day, and it will be a great joy to me in 
 my solitude. There is nothing new here. Yesterday 
 morning, however, I had a visit from two gendarmes. 
 They laid their hands on me a little ; very civilly 
 though. They just conducted me to the procureur du 
 roi. They went so far as to march me to the police, 
 to give an explanation of my forged passport. The 
 whole thing ended by quasi apologies on their part, by 
 a laugh from me, and good-evening. The Opposition 
 papers here wanted to make a fuss about it. I thought 
 this unnecessary. At heart this government is afraid 
 of the man of the coup d'etat, and we must not find 
 
62 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 fault with it for worrying the refugees a little. I for- 
 give them, but the proceedings are none the less very 
 Belgian, very welche, as Voltaire says. 
 
 Perhaps it will be feasible to make some arrange- 
 ment here by which the Belgian booksellers would 
 agree not to pirate the book. It is a great idea. 
 Overtures have been made to me. We shall see what 
 will come of it. 
 
 I am working hard at those notes. 1 What a pity 
 that it cannot be published in that form ! Well, we 
 shall see what can be done in that direction, too. 
 
 Love me, all of you, Charles, Victor, Auguste, 
 Paul Meurice, my four sons, as I call them. I hope 
 that all these dear prisoners are well. Tell my be- 
 loved Adele to write me a nice little letter, as she did 
 the other day. 
 
 Dumas urges me to close my letter. I embrace you 
 all, and I look forward to the day when I shall no 
 longer do it on paper. 
 
 VII. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Tuesday, SQth December, [1851]. 
 
 First and foremost, dearest, do not be uneasy. Mme. 
 Faillet brought me your letter this morning to my inn ; 
 but Dumas must have delivered you mine yesterday. 
 By this time you must know what has taken place. A 
 slight annoyance, nothing more, and at the present 
 moment I believe it is completely at an end. Moreover, 
 everybody here shows me the warmest sympathy. It 
 
 1 The history of the 2d of December, which Victor Hugo had decided 
 to write on his arrival. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 63 
 
 comes from all sides and all parties at once. This 
 morning, when I was lunching at the table I have 
 spoken of, M. de Perseval, the leader of the democratic 
 opposition in the Belgian Chamber, and M. Deschamps, 
 the leader of the Catholic opposition, were sitting near 
 me. Both of them made me a cordial offer of their 
 services. M. Deschamps, who has been minister twice, 
 spoke to me about that little passport affair, and told 
 me that he would intervene in case of need ; but that I 
 might consider myself as defended by every one here. \ 
 He said to me : " There are many who hate you, but ) 
 everybody honors you." 
 
 I believe, in fact, that for the moment I can remain 
 here in perfect safety. In any event, set your mind at 
 rest : England is only a step from here. 
 
 Yes, we must consider about the furniture. But, 
 while taking precautions, we must not give way to panic. 
 They will think twice before they confiscate my furni- 
 ture, my rights as an author, and my allowance from 
 the Institute. That would do them more harm than 
 me. So calm yourself, dearest, while keeping a good 
 lookout, however. 
 
 I am more popular here than I thought. Yesterday, \ 
 at a printers' dinner, they drank the health of the three j 
 men who personify the struggle against despotism, / 
 Mazzini, Kossuth, Victor Hugo. 
 
 I have only space for a couple of lines more. Fond- 
 est love to you all. Charlie, Victor, Adele, I kiss you 
 on your six cheeks. Write to me. 
 

 64 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 VIII. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 31sZ December, [1851]. 
 
 DEAREST, M. Bourlon, who will give you this 
 letter, is the editor of the Moniteur, of Belgium. Give 
 him your warmest reception. He is a very distin- 
 guished man, with a mind above the common, and a 
 noble heart. He is at one with all our ideas ; and 
 his wife, who is witty and charming, also resembles you 
 in enthusiasm and belief in the future and progress. 
 
 I send you an article of the Messager des Chambres 
 here on the incident which had alarmed you. This 
 will set your mind quite at rest. In spite of this little 
 matter, I am perfectly satisfied with the reception given 
 to me here. 
 
 To-day the year closes on a great ordeal for us all, 
 our two sons in prison and me in exile. That is 
 hard, but good. A little frost improves the crop. As 
 for me, I thank God. 
 
 To-morrow, New Year's Day, I shall not be there to 
 embrace you all, my loved ones. But I shall think of 
 you. All my feelings will go out towards you. I shall 
 be in Paris, in the Conciergerie. Talk about me at 
 this family and prison dinner, which I am so sorry to 
 miss ; I fancy I shall hear you. 
 
 Thank you for the journal which you are keeping 
 for me. I believe it will be very useful, for you see a 
 side of things which escapes me. 
 
 Thank Beranger, and send my compliments to Ber- 
 ry er. I shall be delighted to read what B Granger said. 
 
 Here I have abundance of information. I am almost 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 65 
 
 as much surrounded as in Paris. This morning I had 
 a gathering of old representatives and ex-ministers in 
 my den of the Porte-Verte, where I still am. 
 
 A confidential letter from Louis Blanc has been 
 brought me. They are going to start a weekly paper 
 in London in French. The committee will consist of 
 three Frenchmen, three Germans, and three Italians. 
 I am to be one of the three Frenchmen, with Louis 
 Blanc and Pierre Leroux. What do you say to that ? 
 We might make a great fight against the Bonaparte. 
 But I am afraid that it will recoil on our poor dear 
 prisoners. Let me know your views on this point. 
 But be very careful in speaking about it to anybody. 
 Secrecy is demanded of me. 
 
 Schoelcher arrived this evening, disguised as a priest. 
 I have not seen him yet. The other night I was asleep, 
 and was awakened. It was de Flotte, coming into my 
 room with an advocate from Ghent. He had shaved 
 off his beard. I did not know him. I like de Flotte 
 very much. He is a worthy fellow and a thinker. 
 We talked together for part of the night. Like me, 
 he is full of courage and faith in God. 
 
 I embrace you tenderly, my poor dear wife and my 
 beloved children. My fondest love to you. Good-by 
 for the present, Charles. Dearest, give Auguste and 
 Paul Meurice a warm shake of the hand. Give my 
 respects to Mme. Paul Meurice. What a happy time 
 you must all still have together in that prison ! How 
 
 I should like to be with you and with them ! 
 VOL. n. 5 
 
66 THE LETTERS OP VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 5th January, 1852. 
 
 I have received all the letters of my dear children, 
 and all yours ; and the longer they are, the more they 
 please me. So don't be afraid of writing volumes. 
 
 You can in case of need, and for non-confidential 
 matters, write to me direct to M. Lanvin, 16 Place de 
 THotel de Ville. I have taken up my abode there 
 to-day, and have told my landlord that if any one asks 
 for M. Lanvin or for M. Victor Hugo, he is inquiring 
 for me. So I am living there in my two characters. 
 
 When Charles arrives he will find me in this vast 
 hall, with three windows looking on the splendid square 
 of the Hotel de Ville. I have hired (for a mere trifle) 
 the indispensable furniture, a bed, a table, etc., and a 
 good stove. I work there in comfort and feel at home 
 there. If I come across an old carpet for fifteen francs, 
 I shall be perfectly happy. 
 
 If I were to send you all the loving things that I 
 have in my heart, it is I who would write you volumes. 
 How can you imagine that I have any mistrust, I who 
 feel that you are such a noble, steadfast, and loving 
 support to me ! Withdraw that ugly word. I take 
 precautions, that is all, and I take them in the interest 
 of you all. 
 
 You see and feel yourself that my prudence was not 
 carried too far, and that it was justified by the result. 
 Let my sons bear in mind this axiom of my life : it is 
 prudence which gives the right to be courageous. 
 
 I send you the letter which Louis Blanc has written 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 67 
 
 me. Kead it yourself and give it to the inmates of the 
 Conciergerie to read. You can return it to me by an 
 early opportunity. Louis Blanc is pressing me for an 
 answer, yes or no. What do you all say ? What do 
 Meurice and Auguste think, and Charles and Victor ? 
 It might be of use. Besides, it would be some work 
 ready to hand for Charles. It seems that the capital is 
 found in England. But would there not be a disad- 
 vantage in confounding me, even in appearance only, 
 with Louis Blanc and Pierre Leroux? That would 
 deprive me of the isolation of my present position, 
 would connect me with the past of other people, and 
 consequently involve my future in complications which 
 are foreign to me ; it would rob me of some of the 
 purity which I now possess, having never had a hand 
 in anything, never been in power, never put forward 
 theories nor made mistakes, but simply held the stand- 
 ard when it was raised, and risked my lif e on the days 
 of battle. 
 
 All is going on well here. Some of the refugees are 
 in low spirits (among them Schoelcher, who, however, 
 behaved in a heroic way), but I cheer them up. This 
 morning there were some lines about me by a student 
 in the Sancho (the Charivari of Brussels). I decline 
 invitations to dinner and little ovations in family cir- 
 cles. I require my time for work. I have never felt 
 more light-hearted or more pleased with myself. The 
 events in Paris suit me. They reach an ideal point, 
 in atrocity as well as grotesqueness. There are crea- 
 tures like Troplong, like Dupin, whom I cannot help 
 admiring. I like complete men. These wretches are 
 perfect specimens. They attain the climax of infamy. 
 
68 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I admire this. Bonaparte is well surrounded. I hear 
 that on the sous his eagle will have its head under its 
 wing ; good. As for the 7,500,000 votes, even if there 
 were more noughts, I should despise all this rubbish. 
 
 My dear, good, brave souls, you are my joy ; I em- 
 brace you. 
 
 x. 
 
 To ANDK& VAN HAssELT. 1 
 
 BRUSSELS, 6$ January, 1852. 
 
 It is not I who am banished, dear sir, but liberty ; it 
 is not I whom am exiled, but France. France an out- 
 cast from truth, from justice, from greatness, is France 
 in exile and a stranger to herself. Let us pity her and 
 love her more than ever. 
 
 / do not suffer. I look and wait. I have fought, 
 I have done my duty ; I am vanquished, but happy. 
 A conscience at rest is like a clear sky within one's 
 self. 
 
 Soon I shall have my family with me, and I shall 
 wait quietly for God to restore me my country. But I 
 will only have her free. 
 
 Ex imo corde. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Thursday, 8th January, [1852]. 
 
 I write to you from my room on the Grande Place, 
 with bright sunshine and the grand Hotel de Ville 
 before me. Yesterday I inspected the interior of the 
 Hotel de Ville with the Burgomaster of Brussels, M. de 
 Brouckere, who is most courteously showing me over 
 the town. I continue to be the object of a number of 
 
 1 A Belgian writer and poet. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 69 
 
 attentions here. The Maupas of Brussels, a certain 
 Baron Hody, who sent me the gendarmes last month, 
 has just been obliged to resign. My affair had some- 
 thing to do with his discomfiture. 
 
 We are told here that Xavier Duvieu, Kiviere the 
 advocate, and Hippolyte Magen the bookseller, have 
 been transported to Cayenne. This morning I had 
 a visit from the ex-constituant Laussedat, whose pro- 
 perty has been attached. Horrors are still going on in 
 France. As for Belgium, do not be the least uneasy. 
 The Ministers and the Burgomaster are profuse in cor- 
 dial assurances. So do not be afraid. I am a sort of 
 centre here. My hall for my room is a hall is 
 never empty. Sometimes there are thirty people in 
 it, and I have only two chairs ! I shall, however, make 
 an effort to exclude visitors ; for if I let in a crowd of 
 intruders, my time will be taken up, and I need it more 
 than ever. I am working hard at my book on the 2d 
 of December. The Belgian papers call Bonaparte 
 Napoleon le Petit So I shall have given names to 
 the two phases of the reactionary movement, Les Bur- 
 graves and Napoleon le Petit. This is an achieve- 
 ment at all events, in default of something better. 
 
 I embrace you, my good and noble wife. Your 
 letters inspire me with faith and strength. Tell my 
 dear little daughter and all the dear children in the 
 Conciergerie to write to me. 
 
 I am still expecting Charles at the end of the month. 
 
 Be careful of what you say. 
 
70 TH LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Sunday, llth January, [1852]. 
 
 You know by this time that I am banished by the 
 Bonaparte, that is to say, expelled, this is the word 
 which the fellow uses. Yesterday I was at Schoel- 
 cher's ; Charras arrived, and we all three had a talk. 
 Charras was telling us about his arrest, his imprison- 
 ment, his release, and things of the other world, when 
 Labrousse dropped in and said to me : " You^are ban- 
 ished, with sixty-eight representatives of the people^ as 
 socialist leaders. . . . I have seen the decree. Your 
 name caught my eye and I was looking for you to tell 
 you of it." " I hope that my name is in the list, too," 
 said Charras. " And mine as well ! " said Schoelcher. 
 Whereupon we continued our conversation. 
 
 This, however, ought to reassure you a little as re- 
 gards Belgium. He cannot decently arrest us imme- 
 diately after the date of our expulsion. I am well 
 aware that he does not care a fig for decency. But all 
 the same he will not put forth his hand beyond the 
 frontier to seize us just now. A few months hence, 
 I dare say. But he has plenty to do at the present 
 moment. So set your mind at rest. 
 
 I am living, as you know, in the Grande Place. The 
 Burgomaster of Brussels came to see me. I said to 
 him : " Do you know that people say in Paris that the 
 Bonaparte will have me arrested here and carried off 
 at night in my lodging by police agents ? " M. de 
 Brouckere (the Burgomaster) shrugged his shoulders 
 and replied : " All you will have to do is to break a 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 71 
 
 pane of glass and call for help. The Hotel de Ville is 
 close by. There are three sentinels. You will be well 
 defended, never fear ! " 
 
 I am working hard at the narrative of the 2d of 
 December. Every day materials reach me. The facts 
 which I have are incredible. J^wiUJbe history, and 
 will read like a romance. Evidently the 
 
 devoured in Europe. When shall I be able to pub- 
 lish it ? At present I do not know. 
 
 I have so much to do that I cannot write as many 
 letters to you all as I should like. I should spend my 
 life in writing to you ! I seem to be talking to you, 
 my beloved ones. My pen travels at random. The 
 writing is illegible, but what does that matter ! 
 
 A subscription is being got up here, among us exiles, 
 for the poorest of us. I asked Schoelcher if there was 
 a maximum. He said fifteen francs, and I gave him 
 that sum. 
 
 Dearest, I fill up the space left with fond love to you 
 all. Write to me, all of you, and at length. 
 
 XIII. 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Sunday, llth January, 1852. 
 
 MY DEAR FRIEND, My wife has already told you 
 how pleased I was with your letter, and how much I 
 was indebted to you for the details about the 2d of 
 December. Go on sending me everything that you can 
 collect. I am writing a formidable and curious book, 
 which will begin with the facts and end with ideas. 
 
 Never was there a finer opportunity or a more inex- 
 haustible subject. I shall treat the Bonaparte in proper 
 
72 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 fashion. I will see to the fellow's historical future. I 
 will hand him down to posterity by the ears. 
 
 Give my respects to your noble wife, and accept a 
 warm shake of the hand for yourself. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To THE MEMBERS OF THE FRENCH ACADEMY. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 15th January, 1852. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUES, The political malefactor, 
 whose government lies heavy on France at this mo- 
 ment, has thought fit to issue a decree of expulsion in 
 which he has included me. 
 
 My crime is as follows : 
 
 I have done my duty. 
 
 I have, by every available means, including armed 
 resistance, defended the Constitution proceeding from 
 universal suffrage, the Kepublic, and the law against 
 the treachery of the 2d of December. 
 
 Those who are banished are forbidden, by order of 
 the coup d'etat, to reenter France on pain of trans- 
 portation to Cayenne, that is to say, on pain of death. 
 
 In this state of affairs, in face of the brute force 
 which is triumphant, and against which I renew my in- 
 dignant protests from my place of exile, I am unable 
 to take part in the election to the Academy which will 
 be held on the 22d of January, and I beg you, my dear 
 colleagues, to accept, with the expression of my regret, 
 the assurance of my heartfelt cordiality and my high 
 consideration. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO, 
 Representative of the People. 
 
TO VAN HASSELT. 73 
 
 XV. 
 
 To ANDRIS VAN HASSELT. 
 
 16th January, 1852. 
 
 You overwhelm me, my dear colleague ; more than 
 that, you stock me with furniture. You send me a 
 sofa to Brussels, me who cannot even give you a seat 
 in the Academy in Paris. I regret it for our sake, for 
 the luckless Forty. The French Academy would be a 
 little less welche if it were to elect a few Belgians 
 like you. 
 
 All we can do now is to pity her : the poor Academy 
 looks quite foolish over there. Three exiles ! She has 
 not had such a time since 1815. Then it was Louis 
 XVIII. who expelled the other Napoleon, the Great, 
 from the Academy of Sciences. 
 
 As for me, I recline luxuriously on your excellent 
 sofa and read your admirable books. ingratitude 
 of man ! I begin to look with scorn on my portman- 
 teau, which I had raised to the dignity of sofa, and 
 which you have deprived of its employment. It is all 
 up, I am transformed from a Spartan into a sybarite. 
 I shall soon come and pay my respects to Mme. van 
 Hasselt and shake you by the hand. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Saturday, 17th January, [1852]. ^ 
 
 I have only a minute, dearest wife. I send this by 
 Schoelcher's servant, an old woman who has the cour- 
 age of ten men, and who has proved it. She will tell 
 you her history. Everything is going on fairly well 
 
74 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 here. All the Liberal press is on our side, and warmly. 
 I send you some extracts from it about my banishment. 
 A number of papers ^throughout Belgium have re- 
 pwntecT my sipteech ojp47 on the return of the Bona- 
 partes. It jteedtrges a great effect here. I am glad to 
 think that Charles is coming, and that I shall see him 
 in a fortnight. I am convinced that he will prove him- 
 self a man here. 
 
 I shall probably manage to build a literary citadel, 
 from which we shall bombard the Bonaparte. If not 
 at Brussels, then at Jersey. Hetzel has been to see 
 me. He has a plan similar to mine. Again, Belgium 
 will turn towards us, I think, to protect its bookselling 
 trade. I send you two pages of a pamphlet. Bead 
 it, and give it to the inmates of the Conciergerie to 
 read. It is a symptom. Hetzel told me yesterday 
 that a book with the title, Le Deux Decembre, par 
 Victor Hugo, would command a sale of at least 
 200,000 copies. 
 
 When we are all four free, we may do some work 
 | together. ISJEJvenement, why not ? A political propa- 
 ganda at London, a literary one at Brussels, that is my 
 plan ; two centres, and our flame feeding them both. 
 
 To bring the matter to a successful issue, I must 
 live like a Stoic and a poor man, and say to them all : 
 I have no need of money ; I can wait, you see. A 
 man in want of money is at the mercy of speculators, 
 and is lost. Look at Dumas. I have a pallet, a table, 
 and a couple of chairs. I work all day, and I live 
 at the rate of 1200 francs a year. They feel that I 
 am strong, and I am overwhelmed with offers. When 
 we have settled something, you will join me, and we 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 75 
 
 will make the whole family comfortable again. I want 
 you to be all happy and pleased, you, my wife, and 
 you, my dear daughter, all of you in fact. 
 
 I think that Meurice, Auguste, Charles, and Victor 
 might write a history of the period from February, 
 '48, down to the 2d of December, together. 
 
 Distribute the work among yourselves. Each will 
 do his share here. We will work at the same table, 
 with the same inkstand, and the same thoughts. I 
 send you all, in the Tour d'Auvergne and La Con- 
 ciergerie, the fond love of a happy exile. 
 
 I will reply to ah 1 of you by the next post. In the 
 mean while write me, all of you, long letters. Dearest, 
 do not forget to fill up the sheets well. 
 
 By the way, I have seen the filth which he calls his 
 Constitution ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Monday, 19^ January, [1852]. 
 
 This is only a line, which will reach you by the 
 post. Poor Charles will be sad at leaving you ; liberty 
 here is not equal to his prison. But it will be a great 
 happiness to me to see him; let this console him. 
 As for Victor, a kiss for him on his two cheeks ; and 
 you too, dear little daughter ; do not be jealous. But 
 how brave and courageous Victor is ! He writes me 
 the calmest, the firmest, the serenest letters imaginable, 
 with seven months of imprisonment before him ! 
 Well done, dear child. You see that I anticipated 
 your thoughts in calling myself " the happy exile " 
 in my last letter. 
 
76 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 All kinds of attentions are showered on me here. 
 There is no " people " at present in Belgium ; only a 
 bourgeoisie. It hated us democrats before it knew 
 us. The Jesuit papers, which abound here, had made 
 bogies of us. Now these worthy men look on us with 
 respect. They are furious at my banishment, which I 
 take quite easily. The other day a city magistrate 
 was reading me the paper in the restaurant. All at 
 once he cried out, JEJxpulsion ! and gave the table a 
 blow with his fist which broke his jug of beer. Just 
 now I was taking my early cup of chocolate, as usual, 
 at the Cafe des Mille Colonnes. A young man comes 
 up to me and says : " I am a painter, sir, and I have 
 come to ask a favor of you." " What is it ? " " The 
 permission to sketch, from your room, the view of the 
 Grande Place, and to offer you the picture." And he 
 added : " There are only two names in the world, 
 Kossuth and Victor Hugo." 
 
 Similar scenes occur every day. I shall be obliged, 
 on account of this, to breakfast at another cafe. I 
 attract a crowd there, and that bothers me. 
 
 The burgomaster comes to see me occasionally. The 
 other day he said to me : "I am at your disposal. 
 What can I do for you ? " " One thing." What 
 is it ? " " Not whitewash the front of your Hotel de 
 Ville." " But it looks better white." " No, it is better 
 black." " Well, you are an authority. I promise you 
 that the front shall not be whitewashed. But is there 
 anything I can do for yourself ? " " One thing." 
 " What is it ? " " Blacken the belfry." (They have 
 restored it, not badly, but it is white.) " Goodness ! 
 blacken the belfry ! but it looks better white." " No, 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 77 
 
 it is better black." " Very well ; I will speak to the 
 town councilors, and it shall be done. I will tell them 
 it is for you." 
 
 This note is only a line, by the way. Continue to 
 write me long letters. Alas ! when shall we all be 
 together again ? Oh, if only a good proscription could 
 drive you all out of France ! 
 
 Love to my Adele. Greetings to Auguste and Paul 
 Meurice. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Tuesday, 27th January, [1852]. 
 
 To-morrow Charles will leave the Conciergerie. 
 Dearest, it will be a great blow to you to lose him and 
 a great joy to me to have him. I want him on his 
 return home to find this letter from me, which will tell 
 him that I am expecting him to come as soon as he can. 
 
 This is my mode of life and will be his here : I leave 
 No. 16 at the end of the month, and move to No. 27 
 in the same Grande Place. There we shall have two 
 bedrooms, one with a fireplace and a south aspect. 
 The latter is large and we can work together in it. I 
 propose to take it myself. If, however, Charles, who 
 feels the cold, would like the room with a fire for get- 
 ting up in the morning, I will let him have it for the 
 rest of the winter and move into it myself in the spring, 
 if we are still at Brussels. I have taken these rooms 
 at No. 27 from the 1st of February. As for expendi- 
 ture, it must be most strictly limited, as the future is 
 more than doubtful, and resources which are seemingly 
 safest may fail us altogether or for a time. I live on 
 100 francs a month. Here is the daily estimate : 
 
78 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Rent 1 fr. 00 
 
 Breakfast (a cup of chocolate) . . . . f r. 50 
 
 Dinner . 1 f r. 25 
 
 Firing f r. 25 
 
 3fr. 00 
 
 That makes 90 francs for myself. The balance (10 
 francs) is for washing, tips, etc. Charles and I will 
 therefore spend 200 francs a month between us. In 
 this way we shall go on working until some arrange- 
 ment is made here or in London. Once a market for 
 our writings is assured, we shall be able to add to our 
 own and the general comfort. In seven months, dear- 
 est, you will all join us. By that time the situation 
 will have become clearer. We shall have settled some- 
 thing. I shall have sold all or part of my manuscripts 
 or my reprints, and we shall all be able to found, some- 
 where or other, in some beautiful and safe spot, a 
 happy colony. 
 
 Talking of that, Brofferio has written me a charm- 
 ing letter asking me to come to Piedmont and offering 
 me a villa on the Lago Maggiore. So cheer up. And 
 when I speak of aZ/, of course I mean my four sons. 
 Meurice and Auguste belong to the family. 
 
 I write this in haste, dearest. To-morrow, or the 
 day after at latest, Mme. K., who is spending a few 
 days here, will bring you another letter, and letters 
 for Auguste, for Paul Meurice, for my Victor, for 
 my darling daughter, and for Charles, if he has not 
 arrived here. Let me know the day and hour of his 
 arrival. 
 
 Send me my portfolio and my albums of sketches by 
 Charles. Before sending them, let Paul Meurice, Au- 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 79 
 
 guste, and Mme. Bouclier each choose a sketch from the 
 albums. 
 
 Dearest mamma, in a couple of days you will get a 
 longer letter. I think it is best to sublet, and I will 
 explain to you what I consider feasible. In the mean 
 while continue to be radiant. Melanie's remark is 
 stupid and worthy of her. Yes, be radiant. We are 
 passing through a useful and splendid period of adver- 
 sity. Everything that is happening is of use, to France 
 as a lesson, to our children as an ordeal, to us both as 
 a bond of love and a hallowing of our life. 
 
 I approve beforehand of all that you do and ah 1 that 
 you say. I know that you have a wise mind and a 
 great heart. You could not have given Villemain a 
 better answer. He is a friend, however, and I will 
 write to him. 
 
 One more word for you all. I love you dearly. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 BRUSSELS, Wednesday, 28th January, [1852]. 
 
 I begin, dearest, by thanking you for everything. 
 This letter will be brought to you by Madame de Kis- 
 seleff. I spent a most pleasant evening at her house 
 yesterday. She invited me to meet Girardin, whom, in 
 fact, I had not seen. "We had called on each other 
 without meeting. Girardin said to me : " Finish your 
 book quickly, if you want it to appear before the end of 
 this regime." I found him, however, in certain respects, 
 skeptical and Bonapartist. He said to me : " Mme. de 
 Girardin is as red as you are. She is furious, and she 
 talks of ' the bandit ' like you." He believes that the 
 
80 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Bonaparte will fall in three months, unless he goes to 
 war, which Persigny will urge him to do. In that 
 case Belgium, he said, would be invaded at the end of 
 March. It would be necessary to seek a place of safety 
 before that. 
 
 There has been a ^disposition to expel me from here. 
 The Belgian ministry stood its ground, and was shaken 
 by it. Kead what I write to Victor on this subject. 
 By the way, you must all read all the letters which I 
 address to each. It is the same letter that I continue, 
 and, as I suppose that you all read it, I do not repeat 
 facts. It is also necessary to be very prudent at the 
 Conciergerie. Read my letters, and speak of them 
 only among yourselves. Be on your guard against the 
 police, always at hand and on the lookout. You 
 must be more watched now than ever. 
 
 All that you tell me of the effect of the spoliation 
 decree is wonderfully true and just. That epitome of 
 every crime, the Second of December, has produced less 
 impression on the bourgeois, whether shopkeeper or 
 banker, than this confiscation. 1 To meddle with the 
 law is a trifle ; to lay hands on a family is everything. 
 The poor bourgeoisie has its heart in its breeches' 
 pocket. It is improving a little, however, they say, and 
 the Liberal opposition is reappearing. This is a good 
 sign ; and what I admire is the courage of the women. 
 Everywhere the women are raising their heads before 
 the men. I applaud them with all my heart. 
 
 Now let us talk of Charles. He is coming here. 
 He must work, or die of ennui and vacuity. But at 
 what ? There are no paying papers, and besides the 
 
 1 The confiscation of the property of the Orleans family. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 81 
 
 Belgian government would not allow a French writer 
 to make use of the liberty of the press here. What is 
 to be done? What useful work is there for him? 
 Here is what has occurred to me : in the first place, 
 what I have already written to Charles, the four to 
 write a history of the last four years with the help 
 of the Evenement collection, and distribute the work 
 among themselves before Charles leaves ; Charles would 
 do his share here, and the book would sell very well, in 
 a finished state ; this is the way things are managed 
 in Belgium. 
 
 Secondly, why should Charles not see Houssaye and 
 Gautier before he starts ? He might send them from 
 here non-political letters on Belgium for the Revue 
 de Paris, which he would do admirably. It seems to 
 me that he might make a hundred francs or so a month 
 in this way. I would keep him, and that would give 
 him pocket-money. 
 
 Think this over ; hold a consultation in the great 
 council of the Conciergerie. Let Charles take the 
 advice of our two dear burgraves, Auguste Vacquerie 
 and Paul Meurice. 
 
 Thank Beranger for me. As for Villemain, I am 
 grateful to him for everything. I am grateful to him 
 for having made the offer to you, and to you for hav- 
 ing refused it. Dearest, I am delighted to find you so 
 completely at one with me. 
 
 I send you all my heart, my thought, my life. I 
 
 send you, you specially, my fondest love. 
 VOL. n. 6 
 
82 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XX. 
 
 To ANGELO BROFFERIO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 2d February, 1852. 
 MY ELOQUENT AND DEAR COLLEAGUE, I thank 
 
 you from the bottom of my heart. As orator, you 
 answered me from your tribune ; as exile, you bid me 
 welcome. 
 
 I was glad of your sympathy as a politician and a 
 citizen ; I am proud of the offer of hospitality which 
 you make me with such dignity, which I should accept 
 with such pleasure. 
 
 I do not know what Providence has in store for 
 me ; imperious public duties have a greater call on me 
 than ever. It may be necessary for me not to leave the 
 frontier nearest to Paris. Brussels and London are 
 posts of combat. The writer must now take the place 
 of the speaker ; I shall continue with the pen the war 
 which I waged against despots with my voice. It js 
 the Bonaparte, the Bonaparte alone, whom I must now 
 grapple with ; to do this I may have to remain here or 
 go to London. But depend on it that the day when I 
 can leave Belgium or England, it will be for Turin. I 
 shall be delighted to grasp you by the hand. What a 
 number of things you combine in yourself ! You are 
 Italy, that is to say, glory ; you are Piedmont, that is to 
 say, liberty ; you are Brofferio, that is to say, eloquence. 
 Yes, I certainly shall go and see you before long, and 
 see your villa on the Lago Maggiore ; I shall visit you, 
 to find all that I love, blue sky, sunshine, untrammeled 
 thought, fraternal hospitality, nature, poetry, friend- 
 ship. When my second son has come out of prison, I 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 83 
 
 shall be able to realize this dream and gather my family 
 around your fireside. 
 
 We shah 1 speak of France, now, alas ! resembling 
 Italy, fallen and great ; we shall speak of the inevitable 
 future, of the assured triumph, of the last necessary 
 war, of the great federal Continental parliament, in 
 which I shah 1 perhaps have the supreme joy of sitting 
 by your side. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Saturday, 14th February, [1852]. 
 
 Do not say, dearest, that I have no time to read. 
 Write me nice long letters, I beg of you. Do not get 
 out of the sweet habit of having long talks with me on 
 paper. Your letter, which is so short, reached us yes- 
 terday evening, Friday. We had not had any for ten 
 days after Charles's arrival. I have very little time for 
 writing. I get up at eight (I wake up Charles, who 
 generally stays in bed in spite of this), and then I set 
 to work. I go on working up to twelve ; then comes 
 breakfast. Up to three I have visitors. At three, I 
 begin work again. At five, dinner. Digestion (a stroll 
 or a visit) up to ten o'clock. At ten I come home and 
 work till twelve. At twelve I make my bed and retire 
 to rest. I make my bed for the following reason : the 
 sheets are about the size of napkins and the blankets 
 no bigger than table-covers. I have been obliged to 
 invent a plan of arranging them so as to have my feet 
 covered, and every night I make my bed. Charles 
 sleeps through it all. 
 
 I promised our dear Paul Meurice a drawing. The 
 one out of the small album does not count. By the 
 
84 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 side of my bed, in front of the looking-glass, behind 
 the lacquered box with a small lid, there is a large 
 well-executed sketch representing two castles, of which 
 one is in the distance. Have a white margin of about 
 three inches put round it, and give it to Paul Meurice 
 from me. Thank him for his charming letter. Tell 
 Auguste, who writes to me, as he always does, a 
 letter full of profound observations, tell Meurice and 
 Victor, that I will write them the lines they want. The 
 least I can do for them is to send them a few stanzas 
 in their imprisonment. 
 
 Charles is very kind and nice. He makes up to me 
 a little for the separation from you all. The difficult 
 thing is to make him work. Up to the present I have 
 only been able to get out of him a few pages, very 
 well done, however, on what took place in the Con- 
 ciergerie. Tell our three prisoners to put down their 
 reminiscences and those of the others, and to send me 
 all the facts that they can. 
 
 I return to Charles. Pending L'histoire des quatre 
 annees, which Hetzel thinks an excellent thing and 
 likely to sell well, I told him to write a book on his six 
 months' imprisonment and our journey to Lille. La 
 Conciergerie et les Caves would be a good, interesting 
 volume. He promises to do it, he is as gentle as a 
 lamb, but he does not begin. I do not complain, for I 
 don't want you to scold him. I work enough for all. 
 Only I am afraid that time will be wasted. The years 
 fly by and habits are formed. 
 
 The other night he had gone out and I was at work. 
 At twelve o'clock a knock at the door. " Come in." 
 " Monsieur," says the landlady, " has your son a 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 85 
 
 key?" (of the street door). " No, he has not." "Then 
 I will wait up for him." "No, don't do that." "What 
 then ? " " You go to bed. I will come down into 
 your shop [the entrance is a tobacco shop] ; I can write 
 just as well at your counter as at my table, and I will 
 sit up for him." 
 
 I went down to the counter, perched myself on the 
 shopwoman's high stool, and wrote there. At three in 
 the morning Charles came in, and was astounded to 
 find me scribbling at the counter and sitting up for 
 him. I did not reproach him, but since then he has 
 never come in later than twelve. 
 
 As regards my negotiations .with the booksellers, 
 people in Belgium are afraid, and a free book-trade in 
 this country, even for purely literary works, is im- 
 possible at the present moment. The success which I 
 thought within my grasp eludes me. So we must wait 
 for a time. Hetzel is going to London and will try to 
 get it done there. Ah 1 this makes it necessary for us 
 to adhere strictly to our economical life of exiles, living 
 on three francs a day. However, I give Charles a little 
 pocket-money occasionally. It all goes in smoke. 
 
 Just now there was a knock at my door. I left off 
 my letter. It was the manager of the Varietes, M. 
 Carpier, who had come from Paris, he said, on purpose 
 to see me. He asked me, with many entreaties and 
 offers, to write a play for Frederic, Don Cesar. He 
 said a great deal about Auguste, whose eminent success 
 as a dramatist he foresees. He seemed to me an in- 
 telligent man. He told me that Maupas had uttered a 
 cry of delight at the idea of a play from me, fancying, 
 no doubt, that literature would take me away from poli- 
 
86 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 tics. I told him that I would see about it after the 
 publication of my book, but that I could only break 
 silence now by a slap in the face to the coup d'etat. 
 He offered to bring his company to rehearse at Brussels 
 or in London, wherever I might be. I am to see him 
 again. 
 
 Farewell for the present, dear, dearest wife. My 
 love to Dede, and a great deal to yourself. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 22d February, [1852]. 
 
 I begin by telling you that you are a noble and ad- 
 mirable woman. Your letters bring tears to my eyes. 
 Everything is in them, dignity, strength, simplicity, 
 courage, reason, serenity, tenderness. When you dis- 
 cuss politics you do it well, your judgment is good and 
 your remarks to the point. When you discuss busi- 
 ness and family matters, you show your large, kind 
 heart. How, then, can you imagine that I have a 
 shadow of an arriere-pensee with you, or with any 
 one ? What have I to hide from you, from you 
 above all people ? 
 
 My life will bear the closest scrutiny and so will my 
 inmost thoughts. You do not like to speak to me 
 about money matters. I can quite understand it. We 
 are poor, and we must try to pass with credit through 
 an ordeal which may come to an end soon, but which 
 may last long. I wear out my old shoes and my old 
 clothes ; that is easy enough. You have to bear priva- 
 tions, pain, penury even ; that is not so easy because 
 you are a wife and mother, but you do it gladly and 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 87 
 
 nobly. How, then, could I mistrust you ? About what 
 and for what reason ? Is not everything which I have 
 yours ? Do not say your money, say our money. I 
 am the administrator, that is all. As soon as I see my 
 poor sons working as I do, as soon as I find a market 
 and a publisher somewhere, at Brussels or in London, 
 no matter where, provided it is in a free country, as 
 soon as I have sold a manuscript, then I will hold my 
 hand and make the whole family more comfortable. In 
 the mean while, we must suffer a little. As for me, it 
 is your sufferings which pain me and not my own. 
 
 All this accounts for my strictness in the matter of 
 expenditure. Our income is not yet assured, and at 
 present does not cover our expenses. That will come, 
 but is not the case yet. How can you see any distrust 
 in that ? It is merely cautiousness, such as I have 
 with regard to myself. You know well that all my life 
 through I have begun privations and economies with 
 myself. Dearest, I am ready to make over our whole 
 fortune to you ; can you doubt it ? I would only say 
 to you : Be careful. One fine day I may fail you, and 
 we must try to have the capital intact after I am gone. 
 
 The dignity of your character even requires it. I 
 want you always to be independent of everybody. 
 Live as you have always lived, whether with me or 
 without me, proudly, worthily, looking down upon gov- 
 ernments, men, and things, and not caring for or need- 
 ing protection. That is the future which I should like 
 for you and for the children. This is the reason, I 
 repeat it, of my present strictness. 
 
 I see from the answer which Charles gives you and 
 which he has shown me that you scolded him a little in 
 
88 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 your letter. Do not scold him. I want to see him 
 pleased and happy by my side, and if he will not work, 
 how can we help it ? Some day or other, I hope, rea- 
 son will come, something will tempt him, and he will 
 set to work. In the mean while I try to make him 
 happy. I do not reproach him, I give him complete 
 liberty, and I do what I can to make him like living 
 with me. I am sorry that he does not tell you any- 
 thing of this in his letter. Some day my children will 
 know all that I have been to them. 
 
 My book is getting on. I could finish it in a week 
 (working at night), if necessary. But I do not see any 
 need for hurry. Every day I receive fresh information 
 which obliges me to write parts of it over again. This 
 is a great nuisance. I am not afraid of work, but 
 I dislike work that is thrown away. I am not sure 
 whether I shall add the events in the provinces to 
 those in Paris. That might make it long and monot- 
 onous. Besides, Paris alone decides everything, and 
 entirely decided the Second of December, as usual. 
 Probably I shall only give a summary of the most in- 
 teresting events in the provinces, just enough to show 
 up the fiction of the alleged excesses. And then I 
 think it is better, both for the propaganda and for the 
 sale, that the book should be in one volume. 
 
 As regards the paper, 1 as at present advised, I agree 
 with Auguste. Nothing can be done under this law. 
 If a literary paper could be made a success, we might 
 think about it, however. Politics would be confined 
 to facts, and a splendid literary opposition would be 
 
 1 A proposal had been made to republish the Evenement in a literary 
 form. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 89 
 
 started. But would this be permitted ? Consult among 
 yourselves. You are nearer the scene of action. 
 
 Talking of good politics and good literature, here is 
 a noble letter : 
 
 MONSIEUR, As I do not admit your right to plun- 
 der my family, I cannot admit your right to assign me 
 an allowance in the name of France. I refuse the 
 dowry. HELEKE D' ORLEANS. 
 
 Charles will tell you that I took him to Louvain. I 
 had a great reception there. The librarian was waiting 
 for me at the library, the director of the Academy at 
 the Academy, the city magistrate at the Hotel de Ville. 
 I was presented with a medal. The cure was not wait- 
 ing for me at the church. I went there, however. 
 
 O ' 
 
 The town was all agog. The students of the Univer- 
 sity followed me in the streets at a distance. One of 
 them wrote to me as follows : " We did not cheer you 
 for fear of offending our poor little government." 
 
 Dearest, I am finishing this at ten o'clock at night. 
 I am going to send it to Serriere, who starts to-morrow 
 morning. Several representatives Yvan, Labrousse, 
 Barthelemy are with me who are talking of you, and 
 who send you their respects. I will write to Abel and 
 to Beranger. I will write to my Victor and my brave 
 and charming little Adele. I say " little," although 
 she is as big as you, but I still see her a tiny little 
 thing, and saying, Papa e i. 
 
 Thank Meurice for his kind and interesting letter, 
 and embrace all my inmates of the Conciergerie. Love 
 to you, to you all. 
 
90 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 25^ February, [1852]. 
 
 I have spent the day with Marc Dufraisse, he dic- 
 tating to me, and I writing. In this way I have 
 scribbled twenty closely written pages without realizing 
 it, the result of which is, dearest, that I am worn out 
 this evening. I wanted to write to all my Conciergerie, 
 I wanted to write to my darling A dele, and I have 
 hardly time to send you a dozen lines. The big packet 
 must be for next time. 
 
 Yesterday I invited Girardin to dinner, and we 
 talked together very cordially. He told me of an arti- 
 cle of Gautier's which touches me. Thank Gautier for 
 me. Girardin said that it was charming, and promised 
 to send it me, as well as one by Janin. So you must 
 thank Janin, too. I am sure that thanks coming from 
 you will please him still more than if they came from 
 me. I have just read a good paragraph in the Eman- 
 cipation, a Jesuit and Bonapartist paper here. I tran- 
 scribe it for you. The subject is the Corps Legisla- 
 tif: 
 
 The elections are perfectly free. Yet a paper which should 
 venture to suggest the name of Victor Hugo or of Charras to the 
 electors would inevitably be suspended. 
 
 This is delightful. Here is what the Messager des 
 Chambres says on the same subject : 
 
 What the ministry of the interior concedes ostensibly, freedom 
 of voting, the police has orders to withdraw. Thus in the Faubourg 
 Saint-Antoine several workmen, heads of families, have been threat- 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 91 
 
 ened with a prosecution for clandestine printing, for having 
 printed, with one of the small lithographic presses which every 
 tradesman possesses, tickets with the name of Victor Hugo. 
 
 Of all the exiles, the illustrious poet is the one for whom M. 
 Bonaparte has the most hatred : it is personal animosity, enhanced 
 by the constantly increasing popularity of the poet. Detested in 
 aristocratic and middle-class circles before the coup d'etat, M. 
 Hugo has regained all the ground lost in them. He is now consid- 
 ered one of the most energetic champions of law and liberty. 
 
 Shrove Tuesday here is very frolicsome, and rather 
 farcical. From my room on the Grande Place I could 
 see the centre of the masquerades. My window was 
 a box for the play. The Flemings have a sleepy look 
 all the year through. On Shrove Tuesday there comes 
 an access of gayety which makes them wild. They are 
 very funny in this state. They get five at a time into 
 the same blouse, with enormous hats on, and dance 
 together. They smear their faces, cover themselves 
 with flour, paint themselves black, red, and yellow ; it 
 is killing. Yesterday the Grande Place was full of 
 scenes from Teniers and Callots. And then deafening 
 blasts from trumpets all the night. Under my window 
 I read the following notice : Societe des Crocodiles. 
 Dernier grand bal. 
 
 My book is getting on. I am pleased with it. I 
 read some friends a few pages, which produced a 
 great effect. I believe that it will be a signal victory 
 of intelligence over brute force, inkstand against 
 cannon. The inkstand will smash the cannon. 
 
 I feel that I am liked by everybody here. The bur- 
 gomaster and the town councilors are most attentive. 
 I believe that I rule the town a little. Really, all these 
 Belgians are very nice. They say that they hate the 
 
92 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 French. At heart they have a great respect for them. 
 / am quite fond of the worthy Belgians. 
 
 My darling daughter, play my air Brama from time 
 to time, and think of me while doing so. Tell your 
 dear mother to write me a long letter, and set her the 
 example. My Victor, do you do the same. Send me 
 plenty of big sheets from everybody, beginning with 
 yourself. I long to read your letters, and to embrace 
 you all. 
 
 Love to Auguste and Meurice. Have you given 
 Meurice the large sketch with the two castles ? 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Friday, 27th February, [1852]. 
 
 M. Coste, of the Evenement, will take you this note. 
 Dearest, he is fortunate : he will see you and all the 
 others. 
 
 I have been rather unwell lately. Always at work, 
 going out very little, hardly taking any exercise, I who 
 used to be such a great walker ; this made me feel out 
 of sorts. I was feverish for a few days, but it is gone 
 now. 
 
 Charles and I still get on nicely and quietly together. 
 If he would only set to work seriously and of his own 
 accord, I should be almost happy here, if the word 
 " happy " can be used when you are not here, my 
 beloved, noble wife ; when you are not here, my dear 
 children ; when you are absent, you who are the joy of 
 my life ! 
 
 We live with our eyes turned toward Paris, awaiting 
 your letters, dearest ; awaiting a big packet from the 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 93 
 
 Conciergerie. It is raining ; the weather is cold ; it is 
 Lent ; we feel lonely. We sadly want a ray of sun- 
 shine. It depends on you to send it us. 
 
 Tell Victor, tell Auguste, tell M. and Mme. Paul 
 Meurice that Charles and I are constantly talking of 
 them. Yesterday, at the exiles' table, Charles recited 
 some lines of Auguste's which set the whole colony in 
 a roar. It was the story of Madame Revel replaced by 
 Philippe-le-BeL You probably know it. 
 
 Embrace them all for me, even the men, and es- 
 pecially the women. 
 
 This is only a line to bid you good-morning, a 
 small interruption in my work. Give my Victor-Toto 
 and my Adele-Dede two kisses for me. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 17th March, [1852]. 
 
 Charles was getting into idle ways, and wasting his 
 time. On the other hand, he said he wanted gloves, 
 cabs, pocket-money, etc. I have made an arrangement 
 with him. I am to give him fifty francs a month for 
 his personal expenses, and he is to get up in the morn- 
 ing at eight, as I do, and work in my room until eleven. 
 On the strength of these three hours I am to let him 
 off work for the rest of the day. He accepted with 
 enthusiasm ; he got up and worked the first and the 
 second day ; but he is falling off already. Yesterday 
 he worked for half an hour, and to-day not at all. I 
 scolded him a little. At first he protested, in his usual 
 way ; then he understood, and I hope that from to- 
 morrow he will be regular. These fifty francs a month 
 
94 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 will inconvenience me, but I had rather he did not get 
 into debt, and that he worked a little. You approve 
 what I have done, I hope? Oh, how I wish I had 
 you with me, and how I want you here to keep him 
 up to the mark ! Do not scold him for it, however. 
 Perhaps he will really set to work now. Behave as if 
 I had told you nothing about it. 
 
 His tastes lie in the direction of small plays, light 
 poetry, of facile and sterile things. I try to check this, 
 and to direct his mind towards serious work, calculated 
 to promote his views and be of service to him in the 
 future. I insist on his writing his book on the Con- 
 ciergerie. Do you speak to him about it, too. 
 
 As for me, you can picture my life. It is still the 
 same. I get up at eight ; work ; breakfast at eleven, 
 we have got beyond chocolate, Charles preferred a 
 cutlet ; visitors up to three ; work till five ; table d'hote 
 dinner, with Charles, Dumas, Noel Parfait, Bancel, etc., 
 up to ten ; from ten to twelve work. I dine out some- 
 times, but not often. There is a nice rich old Polish 
 lady here, Mme. de Laska, who is very fond of 
 Charles. I have dined there once. Last week I met 
 Girardin, Quinet, and Dumas, when dining with a pub- 
 lisher here, M. Muquardt. The Brussels publishers 
 are afraid of my book on the Second of December. 
 I shall evidently be obliged to publish it in London. 
 The important point, however, is to do it. It will cer- 
 tainly be published, how, or by whom, does not 
 matter. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 95 
 
 XXVI. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, IQth March, [1852]. 
 
 Dearest, you will have received through Mme. Noel 
 Parfait a letter for M. Duboy, advocate of the court 
 of appeal. It is of great importance to get the reply 
 to this letter as soon as possible. The following will 
 explain. 
 
 I want details of what took place at the High Court 
 on the Second of December for my book. Marc Du- 
 fraisse has written to M. Duboy, whom he knows, for 
 these details. Try to get a reply from M. Duboy. Send 
 to his house. Perhaps it would not be advisable to 
 tell him that the information is for me. That might 
 be an excuse for not communicating it. 
 
 Since I wrote to you, Charles has taken to work again 
 a little. Press him in the same direction as I do : a 
 solid, serious book, with the stamp of exile on it, and 
 making it impossible for any one to say that he has 
 learned nothing from his imprisonment. 
 
 He is in great request here. He is very nice, and 
 that accounts for it. I advise him to be dignified 
 and serious, even with women. No levity, no debts, 
 and work before play. He agrees to everything, and I 
 will try to make him practice it. But I sadly need you 
 to help me. Write to him always from this point of 
 view, without ever scolding him. 
 
 Yesterday I saw Girardin, and we had a good long 
 talk. He is publishing a socialist book here to-morrow, 
 and starts for Paris the same day. I do not think that 
 all you have heard of him is true. I found him very 
 
96 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 satisfactory yesterday ; I said to him : " Go to Paris 
 as little as possible, remain there as little as possible, 
 be as much of an exile as possible." 
 
 He thanked me and made rather an interesting re- 
 mark. He said to me : " You have been the dart. 
 You flew an immense distance in an incredibly short 
 space of time, and you buried yourself so deep in de- 
 mocracy that no power on earth will be able to pull 
 you out of it." 
 
 If you see Mme. de Girardin, congratulate her from 
 me on her courage and her moral grandeur. 
 
 Dearest, do not forget that I must have a dozen or 
 so good pages next time. All your letters are full of 
 beauty and strength. If I needed energy, they would 
 give it me. Let us be of good hope. All is well when 
 the head is well, and we have never had a clearer or 
 better idea of our position than now. 
 
 Kiss my Victor, kiss my A dele, and tell them to kiss 
 you. I shall seem to be among you. My love to Paul 
 Meurice and Auguste Vacquerie. My kind regards 
 to Mme. Paul. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Monday, 22d March, [1852]. 
 
 Good-morning, dear mamma. This is only a hasty 
 line to tell you that we are well and to send you 
 Dumas' article, which is so nice for you. Write and 
 thank him. He will be much touched by it. 
 
 M. Carpier, the manager of the Varietes, is here 
 again, " to see me," he still says. I repeated the cate- 
 gorical statement which I had already made him, that 
 it was impossible for me to write anything for the 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 97 
 
 theatre, and especially a comedy, before I had per- 
 formed a political act and published my book. He 
 said : " But after your book has come out they will 
 prohibit your piece." " Very possibly/' I rejoined, 
 " but it is my duty." He told me, by the way, that 
 the Elysee was much alarmed about my book, and that 
 Romieu had spoken to him of it with anxiety. Good ! 
 He wants Charles to write a play for him. Provided 
 Charles writes it in verse, so as to dispel all idea of a 
 light piece, and provided also he has published or 
 finished his Conciergerie beforehand, I quite approve, 
 and I urge him to do it. 
 
 Hetzel says that a line from me to Desnoyers would 
 open the columns of the Siecle to Charles. I will send 
 it you. Charles might send the Siecle non-political 
 letters on Brussels. Let me know your views. 
 
 I am up to the neck in my cesspool of the Second 
 of December. As soon as I have emptied it, I shall 
 cleanse the wings of my mind and publish some poetry. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 Friday, 26th March, [1852]. 
 
 Charles will explain, dearest, why our letters are so 
 hurried. However, if my letters are short, they are 
 frequent, and besides, you know how I work. Really, 
 you owe me a page for every line of mine. 
 
 I should like to be able to write to you at length, for 
 I have a piece of news to tell you. A few days ago, 
 I received a visit from an Imperialist, an old friend 
 of mine, and a friend of Louis Bonaparte. He was on 
 his way through Brussels, he said, and did not like to 
 
 VOL. n. 
 
98 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 leave without shaking me by the hand. He said that 
 Louis Bonaparte was grieved at the fatality which 
 separates us. 
 
 " It is not fatality/' I said, " it is crime. And his 
 crime is a gulf." He resumed : " He is well aware 
 of the obligations under which the family is to you. 
 He hesitated for five days before putting your name 
 on the proscription list." " Ah ! " I said with a 
 laugh, " he would have preferred putting me on the 
 roll of the Senate, eh ? Well, tell him this, that the 
 roll of the Senate is the proscription list. To be an 
 outcast from France is only a misfortune. To be an 
 outcast from honor is real misery." 
 
 The worthy man will be a Senator one of these days. 
 He took his departure. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Sik April, [1852]. 
 
 More impromptu notes, dearest. Our dear good 
 Deschanel, who will bring you this, is starting for Paris 
 in an hour. Eeceive him as one of our best friends, as 
 he is. I saw by a few lines from Paul in the Inde- 
 pendance (thank Paul from me) that you had taken 
 steps, and to some purpose, about the silly rumors 
 spread by the Elysee on the subject of my solicited 
 return. I had replied at once here by the follow- 
 ing : 
 
 Several papers announce that M. Victor Hugo has been author- 
 ized to return to France. It is difficult to account for such a re- 
 port. M. Hugo formerly procured for M. Bonaparte permission to 
 return to France. He has no need to solicit it from him to-day. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 99 
 
 Now you know all about my dialogue with the 
 Ely see. I hope that this will silence him. 
 
 Dearest mamma, I spent such a nice evening yester- 
 day. Alexandre Dumas has arrived, we dined together, 
 and spoke about you. He told me again how every 
 one loves and respects you, and I told him that every 
 one is quite right. 
 
 You will have seen Hetzel. He will have spoken to 
 you about my book, and pointed out to you the diffi- 
 culties in the way of publishing it. These obstacles 
 will disappear. M. Trouve-Chauvel, the ex-Minister of 
 Finance, came to see me just now. I think he will 
 go to London and see to the publication of my book. 
 There were three ex-Ministers of 1848 in my room, 
 Charras, Freslon, and Trouve-Chauvel. I read them a 
 few pages of my manuscript. The effect was good. 
 Trouve-Chauvel said : " The book will be an event and 
 a monument." 
 
 Have you seen this story ? 
 
 M. Villemain having been obliged to go to the Elyse'e on some 
 matter relating to the French Academy, M. Bonaparte said to him 
 in rather a sour tone : " Monsieur Villemain, the French Academy 
 won't make friends with me ; it is not like the Academy of Sciences, 
 which has given me three Senators." " The French Academy is 
 more fortunate," replied M. Villemain, "it has given you three 
 
 This exhausts my budget of news for to-day. But 
 my heart is full. I could go on writing to you on that 
 subject indefinitely. Charles has gone out, but I send 
 you his fond love as well as mine, and also to Dede and 
 Toto. I am very weary of Toto's imprisonment. If 
 he is as weary of my exile, it will be a joyful day when 
 
100 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 we meet again. I have heard of Paul Meurice's great 
 success. Congratulate him and embrace him for me. 
 My warmest regards to Auguste. 
 
 \ 
 
 To MTVTK. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, Uth April, [1852]. 
 
 Dearest mamma, I send you a line for Paul Meu- 
 rice. His success l has been a great pleasure to us here. 
 We drank his health ; tell him that. 
 
 I have twice had a visit which I cannot describe at 
 length, but which I will tell you about on the happy 
 day when we meet again. It was from the physician 
 of the Orleans family, M. Gueneau de Mussy. Al- 
 though he denied it, it seemed to me that he had a 
 mission. He is a superior man, however, and was very 
 nice in every way. He told me that the Orleans family 
 had never forgotten that I was the last person who pro- 
 claimed the Regency on the 24th of February in the 
 Place de la Bastille, when all their friends were con- 
 cealing themselves and disappearing. He told me that 
 the Duchess of Orleans said of me in a tone of grief : 
 "What ! is it possible that he is not our friend!" 
 
 I spoke to him warmly of the Orleans princes, and 
 in particular with great respect and profound sympathy 
 of the Duchess of Orleans. But I ended by saying : 
 " However, I belong for good and all to the Republic." 
 I think he must have understood. 
 
 The weather has been very fine here for some days, 
 but I cannot take advantage of it, working almost all 
 day. At this moment I have splendid sunshine on this 
 
 1 The drama Benvenuto Cellini. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 101 
 
 letter, and my window is wide open. The only thing 
 which tires me is that I am frequently obliged to rewrite 
 parts of my book, owing to the receipt of fresh infor- 
 mation. Oh ! how well I understand the remark of 
 the abbe Vertot : Mon siege estfait ! l 
 
 My affection of the larynx has almost disappeared ; 
 a dull, settled pain in the heart has come in its place. 
 They tell me that I ought to take exercise and work 
 less, and this is the very thing I cannot do. I must 
 hope for the best ! 
 
 We think here that all is going on satisfactorily in 
 Paris. I rather distrust our judgment as exiles, and 
 I try not to flatter myself. After all, let Providence 
 do as it thinks fit. I have ten years of exile at the ser- 
 vice of the Republic. 
 
 Dearest, nothing can be nobler, more dignified, or 
 better than your letters. Their only fault is that they 
 are sometimes short. So write to me at length and 
 often. 
 
 xxxi. ,/' 
 
 To THE SAME. *> , > A , , 5-V V 5 ^ ; '* : " 
 
 BRUSSELS, 19th April, [1852]. 
 
 Dearest, I answer your letter at once. I am very 
 pleased with my Toto. Impress this on him and kiss 
 him for me on both cheeks. Everybody congratulates 
 
 1 An allusion to an anecdote well known in France. The abbe* Vertot 
 was a writer of the eighteenth century, the historian of the Order of Malta. 
 He had asked a friend for some documents relating to a very important 
 siege sustained by Malta. The documents were a long time in coming, 
 but at last the friend brought them ; they were authentic and of great 
 importance. " Too late," cried the abbe* Vertot. "Mon siege estfait ! " (I 
 have finished the history of the siege 1) The remark has become prover- 
 bial in France. 
 
102 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 me warmly about him. People stop me in the street to 
 say : You have a son who is worthy of you. Only he 
 must understand that dignite oblige. He must go on 
 as he has begun, and he and Charles must take life 
 seriously. Everything that you write to me on this 
 point is profoundly just and true. Do you hear, Vic- 
 tor ? Trust your mother and follow her advice. 
 
 So I am going to see you all again, and we shall 
 resume our happy family life. This fills us with joy 
 here. But we must make our plans rapidly and at 
 once. 
 
 If I sell my book in England, as seems more and 
 more probable, I shall leave Belgium in a fortnight or 
 three weeks. It would perhaps be unadvisable for you 
 to come and settle here, take an apartment, etc., for 
 such a short time. In that case this is my idea : as 
 soon as my book is sold, I would go to London and 
 from there straight to Jersey. Jersey is a very pretty 
 'island belonging Jo England, seventeen leagues from 
 tie 'coast '-bf'Frake'e. Living is comfortable and cheap 
 '$&?&; : r AlJ^the 6xilep say that it is very nice. I would 
 try to find, arid profcably should find, an apartment in 
 Jersey, perhaps a small house, with a sea-view and 
 southern aspect, and why not? a garden. We 
 would settle ourselves in Jersey as comfortably as pos- 
 sible, and the Bonaparte might last as long as he 
 liked, it would be all the same to us. We could go 
 to London in the winter and spend the summer in 
 Jersey. French is spoken in Jersey, which is impor- 
 tant, as none of us know English. 
 
 I may add that our friends would join us. We 
 should have a spare room for Auguste, a floor for M. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 103 
 
 and Mme. Paul Meurice, and from there we could 
 work together at the Moniteur universel des peuples, 
 of which I am now laying the foundations with M. 
 Trouve-Chauvel. He starts for London to-morrow, 
 with notes dictated by me. He is enthusiastic ahout 
 my idea of a triple publication in London, Brussels, 
 and New York, and of a Journal des peuples edited 
 by Kossuth, Mazzini, etc., and myself. I think we 
 shall do great things. But all this obliges us to leave 
 Belgium. I am sorry, for it is a nice country and 
 would have been very pleasant in the summer. Just 
 now we are troubled with cold. 
 
 Let me know what you think of all this, dearest 
 mamma. If you prefer to come at once, do not hesi- 
 tate to say so. I shall make no objection, never fear ! 
 If you think it advisable to adopt my plan, discuss it 
 with Dede and Toto, and write to me about it. 
 
 In any event, I will do what you wish, what you all 
 wish, my beloved ones. 
 
 My pain in the heart is better. Fond love to you 
 and the children. Consult Auguste about my plan. 
 My warmest regards to him and to Meurice. 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 30th April, [1852]. 
 
 Dearest, the day before yesterday, as Lamoriciere was 
 leaving my room, Bixio arrived and gave me your 
 letter. 
 
 You scold me for the shortness of my letters, and I 
 thank you for scolding me ; but I do not deserve it. 
 I write incessantly ; the farther I get, the greater the 
 
104 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 mass of material. It is now clear that there will be 
 two volumes. In the morning I write the book ; after 
 twelve o'clock I get up the case, take down evidence, 
 listen to witnesses, etc. In the evening I work at the 
 book again. I have not even time for an hour's walk 
 in the day ; barely half an hour, after dinner, and 
 besides, it is very cold in the evening. You see that 
 when I write, two pages from me is more meritorious 
 than ten from any one else. However, I delight in 
 talking to you. 
 
 Charles has set to work, and, I hope, in earnest. He 
 will write and we shall send you before long the first 
 letter to the Siecle. It is rather a difficult thing to do. 
 To avoid politics at a time like this and to manage to 
 be interesting is no easy matter. But I am sure that 
 Charles will get through it admirably. 
 
 Dearest, if the non-settlement of my affairs in London 
 should entail a longer stay here, we would take steps at 
 once, and you should join us immediately. We are as 
 anxious to have you as you are to have us. Our life 
 here is all broken up, and we long to have a home 
 again, the only real happiness for exiles. 
 
 I have not much space left, and will fill it with affec- 
 tionate messages. I embrace you and Dede and Vic- 
 tor. Tell Victor that Charles is working. Now, then, 
 a race between Victor and Charles ! I embrace you 
 once more. Our warmest regards to Vacquerie, and 
 to Meurice, whose Benvenuto delights me. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 105 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 12th May, 9 P. M., [1852]. 
 
 Dearest, your letter has reached me. Although I do 
 not reproach myself, for my whole time is spent in 
 unremitting labor, I am sorry to think that you have 
 been a fortnight without letters, and that you are in 
 low spirits. I want you to get two letters, one after 
 another. Charles, who has worked hard all the week, 
 has gone to the theatre this evening to see Mme. Guyon 
 act, and I am staying at home to write to you. 
 
 I have not yet seen the man from London. I was 
 expecting him yesterday, and I still expect him. I am 
 afraid, sad to say, that even in England there is no 
 such thing as a free press, and that they shrink from 
 publishing my book. This is between ourselves, for 
 you must not mention this hitch to any one. The peo- 
 ple at the Elysee would be delighted to hear of it, and 
 would try to throw more difficulties in the way. In 
 that case my mind is made up : I shall publish the book 
 at my own expense, no matter how. 
 
 By this time you will have received Charles's article. 
 It is very remarkable, and will, I think, be much no- 
 ticed. As soon as the first article is inserted, I am 
 sure that Charles will work, and that is a great 
 point. 
 
 My dear wife, my dear little daughter, my Victor, 
 how I miss you ! I am often very sad here. I long 
 for the time when we shall all meet. I should like to 
 see a smile on the sweet face of my Adele-Dede. Do 
 you know, my Dede, that it will soon be six months 
 
106 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 six months since I saw you ! And you, my Victor, 
 make your mother happy till I come. 
 
 I take refuge from all my sad thoughts in work, 
 work in the morning, work in the day, work at night. 
 But all this toil is another source of sadness, an austere 
 task of punishment and of justice. 
 
 When we are together, I shall write some verses, I 
 shall publish a big volume of poetry. I shall rejoice 
 in it, and I think we shall have a charming time. 
 Would that it had arrived already ! 
 
 Mme. Guyon has brought me a very noble letter 
 from Janin. Thank him if you meet him. Tell our 
 dear Theophile, too, how touched I am at reading my 
 name in his fine articles. 
 
 xxxiv. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 30th May, [1852]. 
 
 I answer you without delay, dearest, and you will 
 get this letter to-morrow morning. I send it direct, 
 so as not to lose time. All the plans you have made 
 are excellent. Go on ; it is impossible to do better. 
 Dearest, I am distressed to think that you are alone 
 over there, and that you have to provide for so many 
 things all at once. But I too, you know, am hard at 
 work ; I do not waste a minute. 
 
 Charles had a letter from Victor yesterday. The 
 poor child has some trouble ; you will know what it is. 
 He asks me to take him in here. We wrote to him to 
 come directly. I imagine he will arrive on Tuesday 
 morning. We will try to occupy him and console him. 
 But you will be still more lonely. That makes me all 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 107 
 
 the more anxious to hasten the time when we shall all 
 be together, a happy time, you will see ! 
 
 My beloved, this letter is nothing but business from 
 beginning to end. I have hardly been able to tell you 
 a word of what I feel. I could not do without you, 
 do you understand? You have been great and ad- 
 mirable throughout all these trials. Do not doubt for 
 a moment, either of the present or of the future. You 
 will see what a happy little group we shall be in Jersey. 
 Charles and I send our fondest love to you. If there 
 is any delay about Jersey, you must come and join us 
 at Brussels. Tell Victor that his room (your room) is 
 ready. 
 
 Dearest wife and daughter, I love you. You are my 
 delight and my joy. 
 
 My warmest regards to Paul Meurice. Has Au- 
 guste come back? 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 1st July, [1852]. 
 
 A line in haste, dearest. Having no messenger, I 
 send it by post. This very day a volume of mine has 
 gone to press in London. No one has dared to buy 
 the manuscript ; it is being printed, that is all they 
 have ventured to do in England. 
 
 It will appear on the 25th of July, and will be called 
 Napoleon le Petit. It is about the size of Le Dernier 
 Jour d 9 un Condamne. 
 
 I wrote this book after you left us. 1 I shall publish 
 
 1 Mme. Victor Hugo had spent a few days in Brussels at the beginning 
 of June. 
 
108 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the history of the Second of December later. Being 
 obliged to postpone it, I did not want Bonaparte to 
 profit by the delay. I hope that you will all like No- 
 poleon le Petit. It is one of my best things. I wrote 
 it in a month, working almost night and day. 
 
 The great business in London is going on satisfac- 
 torily. The capitalist has been found, but he wants 
 to confine himself to literature. They are afraid of 
 democracy in England. 
 
 Charles is writing his novel, and working hard. I 
 am very pleased at this. 
 
 Do not mention Napoleon le Petit to any one, ex- 
 cept Auguste and Paul Meurice ; and beg them to say 
 nothing about it. It must fall like a bombshell. 
 
 I have a great many things to say to you, but the 
 post is going. Farewell for the present. I love you all. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 13^ July, [1852]. 
 
 Yesterday there was an incident. A deputation of 
 exiles begged me not to leave Brussels. I replied : 
 "It does not rest with me; I shall be expelled." "Wait 
 till you are expelled/' was the reply. I said to them : 
 " But if we make a scandal of it, which may be a useful 
 political step, there will be joint responsibility ; you 
 will, perhaps, all be expelled." " Well, we will follow 
 you, and rally round you again in Jersey. If you 
 leave, the exiles in Belgium lose their leader. The 
 party, which is now in Brussels, will be shifted to Lon- 
 don. You are the centre. In Jersey you will be iso- 
 lated. Stick to us until you are expelled." I told them 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 109 
 
 that I was quite at their service ; and I begged them 
 to reflect, for a general expulsion would be against the 
 interests of many, especially the poorer ones. They are 
 going to consult together again, and will come back. 
 
 My departure from here is none the less certain, 
 for the Lehon ministry will certainly expel me, but, 
 being no longer voluntary, it will be delayed for a 
 few days. 
 
 You will have heard that in the papers here and in 
 Germany I have been made senator, prince, and grand 
 eagle of the Legion of Honor, with an allowance of 
 two millions, in return for which Napoleon le Petit is 
 to remain unpublished. I shrugged my shoulders. 
 Then they talked about an amnesty. 
 
 Charles is finishing his novel. He read me the first 
 chapters, which are admirably done. It is very re- 
 markable, as regards both style and matter. I have no 
 doubt whatever of its success, and I think you will 
 be pleased. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 25th July, Sunday morning, [1852]. 
 
 The printer has just left me, dearest. The book 
 will appear on Wednesday or Thursday at the latest. 
 You must start, therefore, as soon as you receive this. 
 Go straight to Jersey, to Saint-Helier, which is the 
 principal town. There must be good hotels there. 
 You will take up your abode there, and await us. 
 Charles has not finished his book, but is determined to 
 start with me. I expect we shall be in Jersey by Friday 
 or Saturday at the latest, as we intend to rush through 
 London. 
 
110 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Dearest, before the week is over, I hope we shall see 
 each other and be together again. It will be a real 
 happiness, the first after these seven months of exile. 
 My dear little Dede, how glad I shall be to embrace 
 you. 
 
 A number of incidents have happened and are still 
 happening, and a violent Bonapartist storm will burst 
 over the book. This is a matter of course. I will tell 
 you the details when we meet. 
 
 You must have spent a happy week at Villequier. 
 A portion of my heart lies buried there. Dearest, you 
 went to see Didine's and Charles's grave ; you prayed 
 for yourself and for me, did you not ? 
 
 As one must be prepared for everything, and inci- 
 dents may delay us, do not be uneasy if we should 
 not arrive in Jersey by the end of the week. I firmly 
 believe, however, that we shall. 
 
 My fellow-exiles did not want me to go. Three 
 deputations came to see me about it. I explained to 
 them that my forced (inevitable) expulsion would mean 
 honor for me and loss of prestige for them. They 
 withdrew their objections, but I am glad to see that 
 they are sorry to lose me, and that all of them, or 
 nearly all, love me, and would be ready to rally round 
 me. I know what I want, and I want only what is 
 right. 
 
 I hope that I shall find Auguste in Jersey, and am 
 delighted to hear what you tell me of the intended visit 
 of Paul Meurice and his charming wife. We shall per- 
 haps have some quiet days there, in spite of the tumult 
 that is raised around my name. 
 
 Ponsard has been to see me. Janin has been, and 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. Ill 
 
 he shed tears when he embraced me. I believe I shall 
 leave a good impression here, and that my memory will 
 be respected. 
 
 I have only space left to send my fondest love to you 
 and my Dede. 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LONDON, 2d August, [1852]. 
 
 Here we are in London, dearest. I am writing in 
 great haste. Charles and I left Brussels the day be- 
 fore yesterday ; my fellow-exiles had given me a fare- 
 well dinner the evening before. The following day 
 several of them, among others Madier-Montjau and 
 Deschanel, escorted me to Antwerp ; there our fellow- 
 refugees in Antwerp were awaiting me ; they gave me 
 a reception, and a banquet was arranged at which I 
 took the chair. Yesterday the Belgian democrats of 
 Antwerp entertained me at a grand luncheon to which 
 they invited all the exiles. 
 
 Just as we were sitting down, a number of represen- 
 tatives and refugees from all parts of Belgium arrived 
 to bid me farewell, among them Charras, Parfait, Ver- 
 signy, Brives, Valentin, Etienne Arago, etc., Agricol 
 Perdiguier, Gaston Dussoubs, Buvignier, Labrousse, 
 Besse, etc., had already come to Antwerp for the same 
 purpose, and a lot of exiled writers and journalists, 
 Leroy, Courmeaux, Arsene Meunier. 
 
 Bocage came expressly from Paris. The whole jour- 
 ney was one long ovation. 
 
 When I left, Madier-Montjau addressed me in a 
 really fine speech, which came from the heart. I spoke 
 pretty well in reply. Then came speeches from the 
 
112 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 writers, from the representatives, from the Belgians, 
 among them Cappellemans, whom you saw at Paul's and 
 who made some touching remarks. When I embarked 
 for London on the Ravensbourne at three o'clock, the 
 quay was covered with an enormous crowd, the women 
 were waving their handkerchiefs, the men were shout- 
 ing, Vive Victor Hugo. I had tears in my eyes, and 
 so had Charles. I replied, Vive la Repiiblique, which 
 produced a still louder burst of cheering. 
 
 At that moment came a pelting shower of rain, 
 which, however, did not disperse them. All remained 
 on the quay as long as the steamer was in sight. Alex- 
 andre Dumas' white waistcoat could be distinguished 
 in the middle of them, Alexandre Dumas was kind 
 and charming up to the last minute. He insisted on 
 being the last to embrace me. I cannot tell you how 
 deeply all this manifestation touched me. I saw with 
 joy that I had sowed some good seed. 
 
 Madier-Montjau and Charras begged me, on behalf 
 of all our fellow-exiles in Belgium, to see Mazzini, 
 Ledru-Rollin, and Kossuth here, to settle the interests of 
 European democracy with them. They said : " Speak 
 as our leader." This will keep me in London till 
 Wednesday. So expect us in Jersey on Thursday or 
 Friday. 
 
 I hope that you are fairly comfortable there, and that 
 before long you will be quite so. Charles is develop- 
 ing amid all this ; he is going ahead in a thoroughly 
 manly fashion. 
 
 If Auguste is with you in Jersey, it will be a great 
 pleasure to me to embrace him. I wrote to Victor to 
 be there by the 5th, and I count on it. We shall then 
 be the old happy group. 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 113 
 
 My book will not appear till Thursday. There have 
 been delays enjoined by prudence which I will explain 
 to you. I am going to give the first five hundred 
 francs which it will bring in to the exiles' fund. 
 
 I embrace you, my dearest wife. I embrace my 
 Dede, whom I have not seen for eight months. Alas, 
 yes, it will be eight months to-morrow. What happi- 
 ness ! To meet again ! 
 VOL. n. 8 
 
III. LETTERS FROM EXILE. 
 
 1852-1870. 
 
 I. 
 
 To M. LUTHEBEAU, at Brussels. 
 
 JERSEY, I5th August, 1852. 
 
 HERE we are, my dear friend^in a deHghtful spot ; 
 everything is lovely and charming. You pass from a 
 wood to a group of rocks, from a garden to a reef, 
 from a meadow to the sea. The inhabitants are well 
 disposed towards refugees. You can see France from 
 the coast. 
 
 I shall write soon to my excellent colleague Yvan. 
 He ought to look us up in Jersey. We would spend a 
 year there and then go to Madeira or Teneriffe to- 
 gether. After which M. Bonaparte would fall and all 
 of us would return to France singing a final chorus. 
 Tell him of this plan. 
 
 To-morrow I move with my family into a pretty little 
 house which I have taken, near the sea. My address 
 now will be : St. Luke's, 3 Marine Terrace. But there 
 is no need to put an address. All letters directed 
 simply to Jersey reach me. 
 
116 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 II. 
 
 To ANDRE VAN HASSELT. 
 
 JERSEY, 15th August, 1852. 
 
 I am enveloped in poetry, dear poet, amid rocks, 
 meadows, roses, clouds, and the sea, and naturally my 
 thoughts turn to you. 
 
 What fine lines you would write if you were here ! 
 They spring as it were of themselves from this splendid 
 scenery. When the view is not grand, it is lovely. 
 
 To-morrow I take up my abode in a little den near 
 the sea, which the newspapers of the island describe as 
 a " superb house on the Azette shore." It is a cottage, 
 but the ocean lies at its foot. 
 
 We talk about you among ourselves ; my wife and 
 my daughter read your fine works, which I brought 
 them. Charles and I tell them of our expeditions to 
 Louvain, to Hal, in your company. We miss you ; we 
 long to have you. 
 
 About ten or twelve miles from here there is a huge 
 rock, an island called Sark. It is a sort of fairy palace 
 full of marvels. A man named Ludder or Lupper has 
 just bought the manorial rights of it for 6000. Here 
 is one of those cases in which poets envy millionaires. 
 I should like to buy such an island and give it to Mme. 
 van Hasselt. She would be obliged to come there. 
 We should have your pleasant talk, dear poet. And I 
 should still be the richer of the two. 
 
TO ALPHONSE ESQUIROS. 117 
 
 in. 
 
 To ALPHONSE ESQUIROS. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, 5th March, 1853. 
 
 Are you still in Belgium ? Are you still at Nivelles ? 
 I write to you at random. My thoughts often turn to 
 you. You must feel it. Your letter of the end of 
 December moved me deeply. It seemed to me like a 
 greeting from our youth, with a tenderness refined by 
 exile. 
 
 You are one of the men whom I love the most and 
 the best. You have all the great beliefs in the future 
 and in progress. You are a poet as well as an orator, 
 with enthusiasm for truth in your mind, and a ray of 
 the future in your eyes. Grow greater and greater ; 
 cultivate more and more your sympathy, your tender- 
 ness, and your firmness. Let us one and all, militant 
 minds and consciences weighed down with this age of 
 struggle and transformation, accept the great law which 
 presses on us without crushing us ; let us hold our- 
 selves ready for the future evolutions of events and 
 things ; let us belong to the people now and prepare 
 for belonging to humanity in the future. 
 
 I write all this as my mind runs on, at random, as it 
 comes to me, somewhat as the ocean flings its waves, 
 its weeds, and its breezes. Come and look at our Jer- 
 sey sea, if you go to Portugal this spring. I am as- 
 sured, and I can well believe it, that Jersey is a para- 
 dise in April. It is melancholy and gloomy in winter, 
 but the summer makes up for this. Come to us, dear 
 poet, with April, with the dawn, with the spring, with 
 the songs of the birds. 
 
118 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I have spent my winter in writing some sombre lines. 
 They will be called Chdtiments. You can guess the 
 subject. You will read them one of these days. 
 Napoleon le Petit being in prose was only half of the 
 work. The wretch was roasted on one side only ; I 
 turn him over on the gridiron. 
 
 Oh, my dear comrade in thought and in action, let 
 us not lose heart. Let us persist, let us struggle on, 
 let us redouble our efforts, let us persevere in the war 
 against unrighteousness, hatred, and darkness. 
 
 IV. 
 To ANDR^ VAN HASSELT. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, llth May, 1853. 
 
 It will be a year to-morrow, dear poet, you recollect 
 and I do not forget, since we went to Hal together ; 
 it was raining a little, but we did not notice the cloudy 
 sky and we did not feel the cold wind as we listened to 
 your talk. We went to see the marvels of ancient art 
 together, we bought the Catholic knickknacks and the 
 pictures of miracles sold at the church door, and Charles 
 and I shocked you a little by laughing at the miracles 
 inside. I believe, heaven help me, that I managed, like 
 a demagogue that I am, to count the stone balls which 
 the black virgin received so opportunely in her apron. 
 
 Now I am far away ; I see no miracle but the con- 
 tinuance of the hideous reign of crime and fear. The 
 beautiful church and the charming poet are no longer 
 there, but I think of you, and through space, over sea, 
 sky, cloud, wind, and tempest, I send you my thoughts. 
 
 I also send you a picture of myself and one of 
 Charles, done by my other son Victor. The door be- 
 
TO NOEL PARFAIT. 119 
 
 hind us is the small door of our tiny house. In these 
 three square inches you have the exile and his cottage. 
 
 What you do not have, what could not be contained 
 in such a small space, what I cannot send you, for 
 words are powerless to express feelings, is my deep and 
 tender friendship for you. I divide it in two and lay 
 one half at the feet of your charming wife. 
 
 You have read fragments of the speech. 1 I send 
 you the whole of it. Do not be distressed, but rejoice 
 that the victims preach magnanimity to the persecutors. 
 It is a noble sight, and worthy of your mind. 
 
 v. 
 
 To NOEL PARFAIT. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, 29th October, [1853]. 
 
 What has become of you? What has become of 
 Brussels ? What has become of the Boulevard Water- 
 loo ? As for Dumas, we hear of him. Every morning 
 we get a sparkling page which tells us that the kind 
 heart and the great mind are well. Your last letter 
 delighted us, dear exile ; it was a delicious little private 
 diary, resembling your smile. Charles said : " C'est 
 Parfait." And we all repeated the pun with which 
 Providence has connected you. 
 
 You had, about two months ago, a delightful evening 
 fete. The Presse related it to us from the Indepen- 
 dance Beige (article signed with a capital D, and written 
 by a charming fellow called Deschanel) ; then the said 
 fete came back to us from New York quite fresh through 
 the RepublicaMi) from California through the Messager 
 of San Francisco, from Bio Janeiro through the Cor- 
 
 1 A speech over the grave of a refugee. 
 
120 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 reio National, and from Quebec through the Moniteur 
 Canadien. Tell Dumas, so that he inay see that his 
 fetes are as successful as his books. Tell Deschanel, 
 too, who will not be sorry to have been reprinted by 
 the four points of the compass. 
 
 The equinox is blowing with force here ; but it makes 
 no difference, we live in profound calm. The skies 
 weep ; the sea howls among the rocks ; the wind roars 
 like a wild beast ; the trees writhe on the hills ; Nature 
 rages around me. I look her full in the face, and say 
 to her : What right have you to complain, Nature ; you 
 who are in your abode, while I who have been driven 
 from my country and my home, I smile ! There is my 
 dialogue with the north wind and the rain. Make use 
 of it in your turn as opportunity offers. 
 
 The book * I have told you about is at last going to 
 appear. When you see all my dear friends, Charras, 
 Deschanel, Place, Laussedat, Labrousse, Madier, our 
 brave and eloquent Madier, greet them for me. 
 
 VI. 
 
 pT] To MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN. 
 
 [1853.] 
 
 Remain the great mind that I have known. 
 
 Remain the same great heart and great soul. 
 
 The success of the moment is nothing. Justice and 
 truth are everything. 
 
 You are capable of comprehending the grandeur of 
 the struggle of right against crime ; of the idea against 
 brute force ; of the thinker against the dictator ; of the 
 moral atom against material iniquity. You are capable 
 
 1 Zes Chdtiments. 
 
TO EMILE DESCHANEL. 121 
 
 of comprehending this ; you do comprehend it, I am 
 certain. Do not write in such a way as to inspire 
 doubts of it. 
 
 Yes, we suffer. 
 
 We suffer and we smile. 
 
 If these men did not suffer, where would their merit 
 be? If they did not smile, where would be their 
 grandeur ? 
 
 Remain yourself. Cherish the proud isolation of 
 your mind. That certain men should surround ycfu is 
 intelligible ; but that they should influence you, no, 
 never ! Do not permit it. You are too high for that. 
 It is the triumph of small minds to mount on the 
 shoulders of superior minds. Do not allow them these 
 familiarities. . . . 
 
 Do not, with your virile intelligence, sink into the 
 monarchist trifling. Look at the real future. Your 
 eyes are strong enough to gaze steadfastly at that 
 sun. . . . 
 
 VII. 
 
 To EMILE DESCHANEL, at Brussels. 
 MARINE TERRACE, Sunday, llth December, [1853]. 
 
 Will you still object? Am I right in calling you 
 my poet ? Do you know that your lines are superb ? 
 The close is marked by an energy qui vous sacre brun, 
 ou meme noir. " Sacrebrun " will, perhaps, make you 
 say " sacrebleu." But what do I care ? Swear, if you 
 like. Your lines delighted us. Charles claps his hands, 
 Toto drums with his feet, Vacquerie embraces you. 
 
 The Jersey papers quote from every part of the 
 book, 1 and are full of it ; and, oddly enough, the Eng- 
 
 1 Les Chatiments. 
 
122 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 lish papers themselves quote it in French. They say 
 that the lines are untranslatable, which made an English 
 lady here ask the other day if they were obscene. I 
 replied : Not a doubt of it ; the Bonaparte is in every 
 line. 
 
 How I should like to be among you again, if it 
 were only for an hour. Do you still dine at the Aigle ? 
 Do you remember Charles's tirades against the white 
 asparagus ? and that excellent faro ! l and our pleasant 
 talks ! and our hearty laughter ! And our long dis- 
 course on the soul and on God, which we put off to 
 another day, which has never come ! And your course 
 of lectures, as the climax of all ! I can see you now 
 at the end of the large room, which was not large 
 enough, seated in your chair with the light on you, 
 gentle, pleasing, modest, applauded, charming, sur- 
 rounded by a crowd of men whose hands clap, and by 
 pretty women whose hearts beat. . . . My mind goes 
 back to those days as it does to my native land. 
 
 Here, in winter, everything is sombre, dark, violent, 
 terrible, tempestuous, severe. The rain pours down 
 my window-pane like a stream of silver ; all nature 
 plunges with frenzy into the tumult, and I have little 
 to do but to storm like the wind and roar like the sea. 
 
 When you see our convalescent Hetzel, who makes 
 his pallor an excuse for his laziness, tell him to write 
 to me. Say bravo to Dumas from me for two delightful 
 numbers of the Mousquetaire, which have reached my 
 den. And you, think of me ; write me a nice long 
 letter, marked by that charming feeling, that exquisite 
 style, that profound and gentle mind, which is ap- 
 plauded at Brussels and loved in Jersey. 
 
 1 The beer drunk at the Aigle. 
 
TO VILLEMAIK 123 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To VlLLEMAIN. 
 
 IQth March, 1854. 
 
 . . . No, my friend, I have no personal complaint to 
 make. I thank God for all that He has been pleased 
 to do with me, for the ordeal which I undergo, for the 
 desolation amid which I meditate. I welcome adver- 
 sity, welcome injustice, welcome hatred, welcome cal- 
 umny, which creeps into the exile's life like the worm 
 into the sepulchre. If all these things which the world 
 has agreed to call misfortune, and which I bear, add a 
 single grain to the sum total of human progress, I 
 bless destiny. 
 
 Do you know what Jersey is ? Take a map of the 
 Archipelago and look out Lemnos. There you have 
 Jersey. By the most capricious chance imaginable, 
 God has made the same island twice over ; He has 
 given one to the Greeks, the other to the Celts. Jer- 
 sey, placed on the top of Lemnos, would fit it almost 
 exactly. 
 
 It is from there that I write to you ; not from the 
 island where the lightning is made, but from the island 
 where it is expected. For sooner or later upon such 
 things and such men the thunderbolt must surely 
 fall. . . . 
 
 IX. 
 
 To DAVID D' ANGERS. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, 26$ April, 1854. 
 
 DEAR GREAT DAVID, I have received your kind 
 and noble letter, with the interesting page which it 
 
124 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 contained. I am glad that you liked the book. 1 Dear 
 friend, envy me, all of you, envy me ; my exile is good, 
 and I thank destiny for it. In these days, I do not 
 know if proscription means suffering, but I know that 
 it means honor. my sculptor, one day you put a 
 wreath on my head, and I said to you : Why ? You 
 foresaw my proscription. 
 
 Talking of this, I am sending you that masterpiece, 
 and I intrust it to your care. I have no home, the 
 bust is expelled like the man. Open your door to it. 
 I hope that one of these days, soon perhaps, I shall 
 come and fetch it. In the mean while, keep it for me. 
 
 And keep your brave and generous friendship for 
 me. I press your hand, poet in marble. 
 
 x. 
 
 To EMILE DESCHANEL, at Brussels. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, Sunday, 28th May, [1854]. 
 
 Now you are happy, dear gentle poet ; and, al- 
 though the rain and the wind are descending on my 
 head, although the mist has spread a gray covering 
 over the sky and the sea, although in my garden, which 
 is invaded by my neighbor's poultry-yard, I see only 
 geese and not a single bird, although these horrible 
 geese are at this very moment engaged in rooting up 
 and eating seven shillings' worth of French beans which 
 I sowed last week, in the midst of all this unpleas- 
 antness and all these calamities I feel your happiness 
 bringing me warmth and smiling at me from a dis- 
 tance, and my heart is full of joy. 
 
 As soon as you have received and read this letter, 
 
 1 Les Chdtiments. 
 
TO EMILE DESCHANEL. 125 
 
 take your charming wife on your knee and say to her : 
 Somewhere in the world, in a remote spot, far away 
 from here, there lives a sort of morose old creature, a 
 dreamer of dreams, a dealer of blows to the right and 
 to the left, an owl who is the sworn enemy of coun- 
 terfeit eagles ; this gentleman thanks you, madam. 
 Your wife will say : And for what ? You will reply : 
 For my happiness. 
 
 Yes, madam (I resume), I thank you for loving this 
 kind heart, this charming mind, this un trammeled 
 thinker, this generous poet ; I thank you for having 
 discovered all his worth, and for having said to your- 
 self : Nothing is lacking to him ; he is an exile. 
 
 Your letter, dear poet, reached us that very Tuesday, 
 the 23d. I said to myself : It is impossible to go 
 and dine there. And so to make up for it I drank, 
 we all drank, your health. My wife sends her love to 
 yours. 
 
 It is very nice of you to have remembered me when 
 you were finishing your course of lectures. They will 
 be resumed in the Grande Place. How I should like to 
 be at No. 16 again ! But alas ! Napoleon the Little 
 has driven me out of Brussels. Up to now this is his 
 only exploit. And who knows if I shall not be one of 
 those who will drive him out of Paris ? 
 
 I will conclude with this pleasant idea and with a 
 kiss on both cheeks, i. e., one on yours and one on 
 Mme Deschanel's. V. H. 
 
 Make haste, make haste with the little promised 
 Deschanel ! 
 
126 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XI. 
 
 To ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, Vlih November, 1854. 
 
 MY DEAR DUMAS, A friend has cut four lines out 
 of a number of your Mousquetaire and sent me them. 
 In these four lines you have managed to put two great 
 things, your mind and your heart. 
 
 I thank you for dedicating your drama La Con- 
 science to me. My solitude had some claim to this 
 remembrance. The dedication, so noble and so touch- 
 ing, makes me feel as if I were home again. It is a 
 delight to me to think that I am in Paris now, and con- 
 nected with a success of Alexandre Dumas. I am told 
 that the success is great and the work profound. They 
 resemble my friendship for you. 
 
 Dear comrade in action, great and glorious colleague, 
 I embrace you. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To MME. DE GIRARDDT. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, Wi January, 1855. 
 
 The year 1855 has had a daybreak for us, your 
 letter. It came full of radiance, like the dawn, and, 
 like the dawn, with some tears. In reading it I seemed 
 to see your beautiful tranquil face which resembles hope. 
 All Marine Terrace was illumined for a moment as by 
 a flash of joy. . . . 
 
 / am in no hurry, for I am much more concerned 
 with the morrow than with to-day. The morrow should 
 be formidable, destructive, reparative, and always just. 
 That is the ideal. Will it be attained ? All that God 
 does is good ; but when He works through man, the 
 
TO MME. DE GIRARDIST. 127 
 
 tool sometimes goes wrong and plays tricks in spite 
 of the workman. Let us hope, however, and prepare. 
 The Republican party is ripening slowly, in exile, in 
 proscription, in defeat, in trial. There must be a little 
 sunshine in adversity, since it is the latter which makes 
 the crop grow and fills the ear of corn in the mind of 
 man. 
 
 I am therefore in no hurry, I am sad ; it pains me 
 to wait, but I wait, and I find that waiting is good. 
 What preoccupies me, I say it once more, is the enor- 
 mous revolutionary continuation which God is now 
 bringing on the stage behind the Bonaparte screen ; 
 I kick holes in this screen, but I do not wish God to 
 remove it before the appointed time.^1 You are right, 
 however, the end is visible even now : 1855 can have 
 no other issue than 1812 ; Balaklava is the same as 
 Beresina ; the little N. will fall like the great one in 
 Russia. Only the Restoration will be called Revolu- 
 tion. Your name is JVIadame de Stael as well as Ma- 
 dame de Girardin ; you are not Delphine for nothing, 
 and, with the charming indifference of a heavenly 
 luminary, you shed your rays upon the cesspool. 
 
 You have all the success that you wish for ; yes- 
 terday in Moliere's house, to-day in M. Scribe's. 1 It 
 suits you to raise vaudeville to the rank of comedy, and 
 you do it, and Paris applauds, and Jersey recommends 
 Guyot to pocket a good round sum in author's dues, 
 which will perhaps bring the muse to this Carpentras 
 of the ocean. For you half promise it to us ; do not 
 forget this detail, I beg. In the mean while our Carpen- 
 
 1 La joie fait peur, at the Comedie Fran$aise, and Le chapeau d'un 
 horloger, at the Gymnase. 
 
128 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 tras gives balls, at which your flowers produce a great 
 effect. Your bouquet and my daughter danced to- 
 gether, the one wearing the other, and quite astonished 
 the English, whose taste for pleasure has not yet been 
 destroyed by the Crimea. I am told that Paris is not 
 so frolicsome, and I can understand it. Disgrace is 
 even sadder than misfortune. 
 
 For the rest, a belief in the speedy fall of M. B. is 
 in the air ; I hear it from all sides. Charles said just 
 now as he was smoking his cigar : " 1855 sera une 
 
 annee ceuvee" 1 
 
 I talked about you yesterday with Leflo, who ad- 
 mires and adores you, a complaint he has caught from 
 Marine Terrace. As he often comes to see me, this 
 leads to his letters being opened in Paris, and some 
 time ago the prefect of police is said to have sent one 
 to the Minister of War, who showed it to Number III., 
 who read it, and said : " Why, Victor Hugo has made 
 a Ked of Leflo." Leflo repeated the remark to me ; I 
 congratulated him on it. 
 
 Ten months hence you will have the Contempla- 
 tions. 2 Send me your new success. You will find 
 inclosed in this the speech you mention, which has 
 made a stir in England and has drawn down upon me 
 a threat in Parliament, to which I have rejoined. I 
 send you my rejoinder in this envelope. 
 
 The tables 3 do in fact tell us some surprising things. 
 How I should like to talk with you, and kiss your 
 
 1 Literally, a year with eggs : a year big with promise for the future. 
 
 2 The volume of poetry which Victor Hugo was then writing. 
 
 8 Table-turning, which Mme. de Girardin had introduced into Jersey, 
 and which was greatly interesting the inmates of Marine Terrace just at 
 this time. 
 
TO EMILE DESCHANEL. 129 
 
 hands, your feet, or your wings ! Did Paul Meurice 
 tell you that a whole quasi-cosmogonical system, hatched 
 by me and half committed to paper for twenty years, 
 had been confirmed by the tables with splendid ampli- 
 fications? We live in a mysterious landscape which v 
 opens out new prospects, and we think of you, to whom \ 
 we owe this glimpse into another world. 
 
 The tables enjoin on us silence and secrecy. You 
 will therefore find nothing from them in the Contem- 
 plations, with the exception of two details, of great 
 importance, it is true, for which I have asked permis- 
 sion (I underline these words), and which I will indi- 
 cate by a note. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To EMILE DESCHANEL, at Brussels. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, 14$ January, 1855. 
 
 I am working almost night and day, I am sailing in 
 a sea of poetry, I am faint with excess of light ; hence 
 my silence, dear poet, but I love you. 
 
 Your reproaches are just, charming, and unjust. I 
 think of you very often. On Wednesday evening^ I 
 fancy that I have a little more leisure than on others ; 
 and then my flesh says to my spirit, How stupid you 
 are ! it is too far to go to his lecture this evening. 
 
 You are my neighbor, however ; you are now splen- 
 didly lodged in the Grande Place where I made my 
 nest for seven months, between the lofty belfry full of 
 memories of the Duke of Alba and the inkstand out of 
 which issued Napoleon le Petit. Do you remember ? 
 You used to come in the mornings ; Charras sat in one 
 corner, Lamoriciere in another, smoking Charles's pipe ; 
 
 Charles and Hetzel on the sofa which served me for a 
 VOL. n. 9 
 
130 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 bed ; and with the sunshine streaming into my broad 
 window, I read you a page or two of the book. What 
 hearty shakes of the hand we gave each other after- 
 wards ! 
 
 Now all has assumed other colors, rosy for you, 
 sombre for me. You are married to success, to happi- 
 ness, to a charming wife, to an enamored public, to 
 applause, to smiles ; / have wedded the sea, the hurri- 
 cane, a vast sandy shore, sadness, and the starry canopy 
 of heaven. 
 
 I wish you a happy New Year, madam, with two 
 countries and two men, Belgium plus France, and your 
 husband plus a son. Write to me, dear friend, break 
 in upon my reveries with that merry, unaffected laugh 
 of yours that I like so much. We expect the little 
 Franco-Belgian at the appointed time. We know that 
 you take good aim. 
 
 I accept your two kisses and send you four in return, 
 one on each cheek. V. H. 
 
 Tell my excellent friend Hetzel that I am rowing 
 hard in his direction. The Contemplations will be 
 an exceptional book. If ever there was a mirror of the 
 soul, it will be this. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To MLLE. MARIE Huao 1 (S<EUR SAINTE-MARIE- JOSEPH). 
 
 JERSEY, 22d July, [1855]. 
 
 I thank you for your present, dear child. Your 
 little painting is charming ; the pink color is like your 
 
 1 A young relative of the poet, who took the veil when her husband 
 died a year after their marriage. 
 
TO MLLE. MARIE HUGO. 131 
 
 face and the dove like your soul ; it is almost a 
 painting of yourself that I have, pending the arrival of 
 the other. You have promised it, and I am anxious 
 to have it. 
 
 The lines which you sent us this spring were very 
 graceful ; there were some very sweet and happy stan- 
 zas on you especially. Tell this from me to the writer 
 of them, who must be charming if she is like her 
 poetry. 
 
 Dear child, so you are about to accomplish the 
 solemn act of leaving the world. You too are going 
 into exile ; you will do it out of faith as I have done 
 it out of duty. One sacrifice can understand another. 
 Therefore it is from the depths of my heart that I ask 
 for your prayers and send you my blessing. 
 
 I should have liked to see you once more on that 
 last day for family meetings of which you tell me. 
 God does not permit us this happiness ; He has his 
 ways. Let us be resigned. I will send the angel whom 
 I have above to visit you. All that you are doing for 
 your brother is good ; I recognize in it your devoted, 
 noble heart. Dear child, you and I are in the sweet 
 and austere path of renunciation ; we are nearer to 
 each other than you imagine. Your serenity comes to 
 me as a reflection of my own. Love, believe, pray ; be 
 blessed. 
 
132 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XV. 
 
 To MlCHELET. 
 
 MARINE TERRACE, 2Ath July, 1855. 
 
 You have received the same blow as I have. To- 
 day death pays a sudden visit to your house as it did 
 to mine twelve years ago. You have lost your child, 
 your daughter, your darling, and you are in tears. I 
 shed the same tears as you, and that is all that I 
 can offer to your sorrow. great mind, you are 
 now bleeding from the heart. It is only the heart 
 which really bleeds. All other sufferings are nothing 
 in comparison. To lose one's child is real misfor- 
 tune. There is no such desolation or exile in lif e as 
 this. 
 
 I say nothing to a soul like yours. You, who will 
 be one of the founders of the earthly kingdom, you 
 cannot doubt of the heavenly kingdom. Lbe]i^vft in 
 God because I believe in man. The acorn proves to 
 me the oak, the ray the star ; that is your symbol, and 
 mine. We shall meet those who are dear to us here- 
 after ; your daughter is now by the side of mine ; 
 henceforth these angels smile on us and illumine us ; 
 and even without your knowing it there are more 
 gleams of light within you. This brightness comes 
 from death. Dear and glorious fighter of the human 
 fight, poor father, I embrace you. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 I have just read some admirable pages of yours. 
 But is this a time to speak to you of glory ? Yes, for 
 your glory is " a soldier of God," and is ever in at- 
 
TO MME. VICTOR HUGO. 133 
 
 tendance on human thought. Let your labors, which 
 are your crown, be your consolation. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 4to August, 1855. 
 
 I hear that a calamity has befallen you. You have 
 lost a little child. You are suffering. 
 
 Will you allow one who admires you and loves you 
 to take your hand in his and to teh 1 you that you have 
 all his sympathy? Your grief is mine, for the same 
 reason that makes your success my happiness. Great 
 soul, I suffer in you. 
 
 I believe in angels; I have some in heaven, I have 
 some on earth. Your little darling is now a sweet 
 winged soul, hovering o'er your illustrious head. There 
 is no death. All is life, love, light, or waiting for the 
 light. I offer you my tender respect. I regard you 
 with sincere affection. 
 
 XVII. 
 To MME. VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 GUERNSEY, 1 3 P. M., [1855]. 
 
 Here we are on land, dearest, not without some toss- 
 ing. The sea was rough, the wind boisterous, the rain 
 chilly, the fog thick. Jersey is not so much as a cloud 
 even ; it has disappeared ; there is nothing on the hori- 
 zon. I seem to be in a state of suspended animation ; 
 when you are all here, life will begin again. 
 
 1 Victor Hugo, having been expelled from Jersey for siding with the 
 other refugees, had sought shelter in Guernsey, and preceded his family 
 there. 
 
134 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 The reception was good ; there was a crowd on the 
 quay, silent, but sympathetic, apparently so at least ; 
 all took off their hats as I passed. 
 
 I have a grand view before me as I write. Even 
 in the rain and fog the approach to Guernsey is splen- 
 did. Victor was greatly struck by it. It is a regu- 
 lar old Norman port with hardly anything English 
 about it. 
 
 The consul with a white tie on (the Laurent of this 
 place) was present when I landed. Somebody told me 
 that he raised his hat like the others when I passed. 
 
 It seems that the local authorities have said that we 
 shall be unmolested here, provided we do not create 
 any difficulties. We are looked on as malefactors. 
 But volcanoes are not to be extinguished with pails of 
 water. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To MESSRS. THOMAS GREGSON and JOSEPH COWEN, of New- 
 castle, Members of the Foreign Affairs Committee. 
 
 GUERNSEY, HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 25th November, 1855. 
 
 Dear fellow-countrymen of the great fatherland of 
 Europe, I have received from the hands of our brave 
 co-religionist Harney the communication which you 
 have been so good as to address to me on behalf of 
 your committee and of the meeting held at Newcastle. 
 I thank you, as well as your friends, for it, in my own 
 name and in that of my fellow-combatants and fellow- 
 exiles. 
 
 It was impossible that the expulsion from Jersey, 
 that this proscription of the proscribed, should not 
 excite public indignation in England. England is a 
 great and generous nation, which throbs with all the 
 
TO FRANZ STEVENS. 135 
 
 living forces of progress ; she understands that liberty 
 means light. But what has just been done in Jersey 
 is a night attack ; it is an invasion of darkness ; it is 
 an armed assault by despotism on the old free Consti- 
 tution of Great Britain ; it is a coup d'etat insolently 
 launched by the Empire in the heart of England. The 
 expulsion was carried out on the 2d of November ; that 
 is an anachronism, it should have taken place on the 
 2d of December. 
 
 Pray tell my friends of the committee, and your 
 friends of the meeting, how much we were touched 
 by their noble and energetic manifestation. Such acts 
 may serve as a warning and a check to those of your 
 rulers who are perhaps, at this moment, meditating a 
 fresh attack on the old honor of England, through the 
 shameful Alien Bill. 
 
 Demonstrations like yours, like those which have just 
 taken place in London, like those which are in prepara- 
 tion at Glasgow, consecrate, draw closer, and cement, 
 not the idle, spurious, baneful, effete alliance between 
 the present English cabinet and the Bonapartist empire, 
 but the true, necessary, eternal alliance between the 
 free people of England and the free people of France. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 To FRANZ STEVENS, at Brussels. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, Wth April, 1856. 
 
 Your name, so young and yet assured of fame, has 
 a sort of radiance for me. The first time I heard it 
 I was arriving in Brussels ; it was the 13th or 14th of 
 December, 1851 ; some lines were placed in my hands ; 
 my name was at the head, yours at the foot. These 
 
136 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 lines the first that you wrote, I believe revealed at 
 that early stage all that was in your heart. You arose 
 on the threshold of your native land to greet the man 
 who had no other refuge but the great fatherland 
 which is called exile ; and you offered the refugee the 
 hospitality of poets, which is more to be depended on 
 than that of kings. This was a fine beginning. It 
 has brought you good fortune. From that day on- 
 ward your poetical gift has grown, and to-day it is my 
 turn to bid you welcome on the threshold of that other 
 land of refuge, art. Five years ago you nobly con- 
 nected my name with lines which were a wreath of 
 laurels ; allow me to-day to tell you in prose that I love 
 you. 
 
 You are not a Belgian poet, you are a French poet. 
 You have the grace, the brilliance, the life, the origi- 
 nality in details, the felicity of expression, the ease, the 
 freedom of movement, the proud bearing of the French 
 writer. The union of Belgium with France is thus 
 accomplished by writers and poets. You are one of 
 those who generously fling between the two nations 
 the splendid connecting-link of style, of poetry, of the 
 winged strophe, of the idea. 
 
 You and I belong to different political regions. 
 You, at this moment, are where I have been. Perhaps 
 your mature age will reach the point where I am now, 
 including proscription, which I hope may be your lot. 
 You deserve it ; for whatever the formal disagreement 
 which separates us, you want all that we do, we the 
 champions of the right ; you wish for enlightenment, 
 truth, progress, the interment of the past, the advent 
 of the future ; you wish to see the end of misery, of 
 
TO FRANZ STEVENS. 137 
 
 ignorance, of perdition, of servitude, of darkness ; you 
 desire, under the sole authority of God, the sovereign 
 ego in the free individual. This is the kernel of your 
 ideas ; the outer husk will fall from it. 
 
 You and I, therefore, are the same man ; we touch 
 each other ; you are what I was in the past, I am what 
 you will be one day. You are to me the mirror of 
 what I was ; look at me and think of your future. 
 
 Within a given time your reason will accomplish the 
 first task, and your conscience the second ; and, after 
 all, it is better that corrections should be effected by 
 them. What these inner workers bring about and 
 rectify is always the best part of us. I content myself 
 with applauding, with crying bravo to your beautiful 
 and noble lines ; with encouraging your brave and 
 energetic mind ; yes, bravo and courage ! I am not a 
 French writer welcoming a Belgian poet. I do not 
 belong to the former nation, and you do not belong to 
 the latter ; for me, in politics there are only men, and 
 in poetry poets ; and whatever standpoint I adopt, I 
 can only see in you a brother. 
 
 I write this to you somewhat promiscuously, some- 
 what at random. Try to realize the state of my mind 
 in the splendid solitude in which I live, perched as it 
 were on the summit of a rock, with all the grandeur 
 of the waves and the sky before me. I dwell in this 
 immense dream of the ocean. I am gradually becom- 
 ing a somnambulist of the sea; and in face of all 
 these stupendous phenomena and all this vast living 
 thought in which I lose myself, I end by being only a 
 sort of witness of God. 
 
 It is from this never-ending contemplation that I 
 
138 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 arise to write to you. Therefore take my letter as it is, 
 take my thoughts as they come, somewhat discon- 
 nected, somewhat disarranged by all this gigantic oscil- 
 lation of the infinite. What is fixed and steadfast is 
 the soul in presence of God, and conscience in pre- 
 sence of truth ; and also and I will end by this 
 the profound sympathy with which young men like you 
 inspire me. 
 
 xx. 
 
 To VlLLEMAEKT. 
 
 m May, 1856. 
 
 I read your letter with emotion. We start almost 
 from two opposite poles in art, but grief has given us 
 a great trysting-place in truth, and I am not surprised 
 that we should meet. You refresh your mind that 
 delicately chased Greek goblet at the sacred limpid 
 springs from which human thought filters and falls 
 drop by drop throughout the ages. / am in the wil- 
 derness, alone with the sea and with grief, drinking 
 from the hollow of my hand. Your drop of water is a 
 pearl, mine is a tear. 
 
 But you, too, have wept ; you, too, have suffered ; 
 you, too, are bleeding. Hence the deep sympathy be- 
 tween us ; deeper than we are ourselves aware of, and 
 which is as it were revealed to us at certain moments. 
 You have read Horror, Dolor? and you have recog- 
 nized the distant sound of the bell which all sufferers 
 and thinkers hear in the night. 
 
 Dear friend, I often think of you. Exile has not 
 only detached me from France, it has almost detached 
 me from the earth ; and there are moments when I 
 
 1 Two pieces in the Contemplations. 
 
TO LOUIS BOULANGER. 139 
 
 feel as if I were dead, and when I seem to be already 
 living the great sublime life beyond the tomb. It is 
 then that my thoughts revert to all those whom I have 
 loved in this world below. . . . 
 
 XXI. 
 
 To LOUIS BOULANGER. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2M May, [1856]. 
 
 What a precious possession, dear Louis, is the endur- 
 ing warmth of old friendships ! Your letter seemed to 
 bring back my youth. Je nous ai revus, this jar- 
 gon just expresses my thoughts, in the glorious days 
 of the Orientales, when we were two passers-by on the 
 plain of Vaugirard, two watchers of the sun setting 
 behind the dome of the Invalides, two brothers, you 
 the dazzling painter of Mazeppa, I the dreamer predes- 
 tined to strife and exile. 
 
 You are happy now ; you say so in your letter. I 
 feel it and I love you. 
 
 You have read that book, and you know my feelings 
 by it. I know yours by the way you speak to me of it. 
 I should now like to make the acquaintance of your 
 wife ; I am sure she is noble and charming. In my 
 eyes you shine as it were in a soft halo ; you seem to 
 me to have kept your youth. And I, from the depths 
 of the vast darkening twilight which enfolds me, send 
 you and her, dear Louis, my fondest and tenderest 
 greeting. 
 
140 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 To BABTH^LEMY ENFANTIN. 
 
 GUERNSEY, 7th June, 1856. 
 
 I thank you, dear and great thinker; your letter 
 touches and charms me. You are one of the seers of 
 the universe. You are one of those men in whom 
 humanity is stirring, and with whom I feel a profound 
 sympathy. 
 
 The ideal is the real. Like you, I live with my 
 eyes fixed on a vision. I do my best so far as my 
 strength will allow to help mankind, that hapless crowd 
 of brothers we have there who are walking in darkness, 
 and I endeavor, bound to the chain myself, to aid my 
 fellow-travelers, by my example as a man in the pre- 
 sent, and by my writings as a poet in the future. 
 
 Within due limits, my sympathy embraces all cre- 
 ated beings. I see your point of view, and I accept it, 
 and I think you will also accept mine. Let us work 
 towards the light. Let us create unbounded love. 
 
 In those two books, Dieu and La Fin de Satan, you 
 may be sure that I shall not pass over woman ; I shall 
 go even further, just as I shall go beyond the things 
 of this world. These two works are almost finished ; 
 nevertheless, I want to leave an interval between them 
 and the Contemplations. I should like, if God gives 
 me some measure of strength, to carry the crowd to 
 certain altitudes ; yet I am well aware that there is 
 little air there which it can breathe. I therefore wish 
 it to rest awhile before I make it attempt a fresh ascent. 
 
 Alas ! I am of very little account, but my heart is 
 filled with deep love for liberty, which is man, and for 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 141 
 
 truth, which is God. You have this twofold love as 
 well as I ; it is the life of your lofty mind ; and it is 
 a pleasure to me to greet you as a friend. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. < 
 
 15th June, 1856. 
 
 Guernsey should be called Tibur, Ferney, or Port 
 Koyal, to be able to send a fitting reply to Nohant. 
 But Guernsey is only a poor rock, lost in the seas and 
 in the darkness, bathed by the spray which leaves on 
 the lips a salt taste of tears, with no merit but its cliffs 
 and the patience with which it bears the burden of the 
 infinite. The little sombre island is proud of the ray 
 of sunshine which comes to it from Nohant, the birth- 
 place of beautiful and charming books. Alas ! sorrow 
 is everywhere, the grave is everywhere, but the light is 
 where you are ! I thank Heaven if my book has been 
 able to touch your grief without wounding it, and if it 
 has been vouchsafed to me to me who am sad myself 
 to bring some balm to the anguish of your large 
 heart, great thinker, poor mother ! 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 30th June, 1856. 
 
 You have every gift; the greatness of your mind 
 is only equaled by the greatness of your heart. I 
 have just been reading your splendid article on the 
 Contemplations, that criticism which is poetry, that 
 flow of thought, of life, and of tenderness, that philoso- 
 phy, that reasoning, that gentleness, that powerful and 
 
142 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 striking exposition, those gems which drop from a pen 
 of light. What is there for me to say? To thank 
 you is almost stupid ; I would rather congratulate you. 
 You are a serene nature ; you are proud because you 
 are high-minded ; you speak of this book l with a calm 
 simplicity, and so genuine as to be almost haughty, 
 when one compares it with the wretched clevernesses of 
 so many other minds. I said of you to my children 
 one morning at breakfast, this is our autour de la 
 table, that in the world of thought you were the 
 greatest of women, perhaps even of all time. . . . 
 
 You are a dweller on the heights, and you are accus- 
 tomed to eyries ; I have only a den. But I should like 
 you to come and see it; let me roll away the great 
 stone at the entrance and bid you enter. 
 
 To drop metaphor and in plain prose (how can I 
 venture to use this epithet to you who write such grand 
 prose?), with the proceeds of the first two editions of 
 the Contemplations I have just bought a hovel here ; 
 I am going to improve it and add to it ; and there will 
 then be a decent room for you ; will you make up your 
 mind to come ? It will be about next spring ; you see 
 I give you a long notice. It is a way of making it 
 almost impossible for you to refuse. You will be in 
 my house what you are in your own, that is to say, 
 free. The house shall have the name " Liberty ; " it 
 will be called Liberty House. It is the custom in 
 England to give houses names. As you perhaps know, 
 my family and I live in the most simple manner, and 
 in this respect Guernsey can join hands with Nohant. 
 Think over it, you have nearly a year before you, and 
 
 1 George Sand had written several articles on the Contemplations. 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 143 
 
 come to us. If you only knew how sincerely I mean 
 this invitation ! You will walk in my garden, a very 
 small one ; do not expect your vast plains. There is 
 so much sea and sky here that one hardly needs a bit 
 of earth. 
 
 My wife has already invited you : you half promised 
 her to come ; complete the promise to me. It will give 
 us a pleasure on which we shall live till we see you. 
 You will write a splendid book here and date it from 
 Guernsey ; be kind to this poor old rock and confer on 
 it this distinction. I have marked it with a period of 
 ordeal, do you mark it with one of glory. 
 
 One thing pleases me, and that is that my book Dieu 
 (three parts finished) anticipates your ideas. It seems 
 as if you must have read it when you wrote that letter 
 from Louise which concludes your admirable articles. 
 The end full of light, that is what I desire and you 
 desire, and the good Theodore himself (I know many 
 such) will be satisfied. 
 
 You are an esprit ; consequently I say to you famil- 
 iarly, Thanks. And you are a woman, which gives 
 me the right to kneel before you and respectfully to 
 kiss your hand. 
 
 xxv. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2d October, 1856. 
 
 It is a joy to me to think that your great mind 
 turns now and again towards mine ; and when I find 
 my name in your noble articles, it seems as if they were 
 open letters from you to me. I should think myself 
 an ungrateful being if I did not reply to them. How- 
 
144 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ever, you do not need thanks or applause. In this 
 age, when almost every one is more or less insincere, 
 you have the proud, simple bearing of a genuine char- 
 acter. In my solitude this communion of our souls, I 
 may almost say of our hearts, makes me silently and 
 profoundly happy. I feel as if I were linked to you 
 in the contemplation of truth and the acceptance of 
 sorrow ; and I hail your serene and impressive testimony 
 in favor of progress. Whoever despairs of man de- 
 spairs of God, that is to say, does not believe in Him. 
 And all religions in the present day are atheistical ; all 
 curse the light, that is to say, the very dawn of the 
 heavenly countenance. You have faith because you 
 are great. I thank you, I admire you, and, allow me 
 to add, I love you. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 To THE STUDENTS OF PAKIS. 
 
 1856. 
 
 Young and courageous fellow-citizens, your noble 
 and cordial letter has reached me in my solitude, and 
 has touched me deeply. I have very little time to my- 
 self ; exile is no sinecure, as you are aware ; and I take 
 the first opportunity at my disposal to reply to you and 
 to thank you. Courage, and persevere. 
 
 The eyes of the future rest on such as you. Among 
 the signatures to the valuable letter which I receive, I 
 see some which represent talent, others which represent 
 example ; all represent generosity, intelligence, and 
 moral worth. Your trials are beginning early ; rejoice 
 in it. Your sufferings nobly borne place you at the 
 head of your generation. Be always worthy of direct- 
 
TO EDMOND ABOUT. 145 
 
 ing it. Let nothing unsettle or discourage you. The 
 future is certain. Wait for it amid the affliction and 
 darkness of the present moment as one waits for the 
 dawn in the night, with quiet and perfect faith. Work 
 and advance ; think, and you will discover ; struggle, 
 and you will conquer. 
 
 I greet you all as I would my brothers or my chil- 
 dren. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 To EDMOND ABOUT. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 23d December, [1856]. 
 
 Exile has but little leisure, and it is only here in 
 the sort of temporary lull which always foUows a re- 
 newal of persecution, that I have at last been able to 
 read your two fine and charming volumes, Tolla and 
 La Grece. My sons, your old school-fellows, have often 
 mentioned you to me. You have achieved all that they 
 prophesied of you, and I congratulate you with all my 
 heart. You are gifted, you are successful, you are 
 young ; your responsibility for others is beginning. 
 
 An outlaw is a sort of dead man ; he can almost give 
 advice from beyond the grave. Be faithful to all those 
 great ideas of liberty and progress which are the very 
 breath of the future for all humanity, for the people 
 as well as for the genius. 
 
 Despise all that is not true. gre^j :L just 1 ..^fl4.'b ft ^ 1 J t i^ 11 ^- 
 Your nature is an enlightened one. I need only say 
 to you : Be true to yourself. 
 
 Take courage, then. You are entering bravely and 
 successfully into the future. 
 
 VOL. II. 10 
 
146 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 To ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
 HAUTE VILLE HOUSE, 8th March, 1857. 
 
 DEAR DUMAS, The Belgian newspapers bring me, 
 with all the splendid comments which you deserve, the 
 letter which you have just written to the director of the 
 Theatre Franqais. 
 
 Great hearts are like great suns. They contain their 
 own light and warmth. You have no need, therefore, 
 of praise ; you do not even need thanks ; but I must 
 tell you that I love you more every day, not only 
 because you are one of the marvels of the age, but 
 also because you are one of its consolations. 
 
 I thank you. 
 
 But pray come here ; you know you promised to do 
 so. Come and receive the greetings of all who sur- 
 round me, and who will not gather round you less loyally 
 than round me. 
 
 Your brother. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 12th April, 1857. 
 
 Daniella is a great book and a beautiful book ; allow 
 me to tell you so. I do not touch on the political side 
 of the work, for the only things that I could write about 
 Italy could not be read in France, and would probably 
 prevent my letter from reaching you. I am speaking 
 to you, to you the artist, about the work of art. As 
 for all the great aspirations towards liberty and pro- 
 gress, they are necessarily part of your nature ; and a 
 
TO ARSEKE HOUSSAYE. 147 
 
 poetical genius like yours is always on the side of the 
 future. The revolution is light, and what are you but 
 a torch ? 
 
 I look on Daniella as a profound study of all the 
 aspects of the heart. It is masterly because it is 
 womanly. You have put into this book all that femi- 
 nine delicacy which, blended with your masculine power, 
 makes up your strong and charming individuality. As 
 a painter I would stand up for all the old ruins of 
 Italy against you ; and in particular for that dazzling 
 and imposing Campagna of Rome which I saw as a 
 child, and which has remained in my mind and become 
 impressed on my vision as if I had beheld a mixture of 
 sunshine and death. But what does this matter to you? 
 You continue your course full of light and inspiration ; 
 you scatter around you brilliant, generous, cruel, gentle, 
 tender, haughty, smiling, consoling pages, and you know 
 that, after all, the sympathies of every reader are with 
 you as a writer, just as all minds are fascinated by your 
 intellect. 
 
 So accept my homage with that of the rest. My 
 house is nearly finished, and humbly hopes to receive 
 you ; and I respectfully kiss your hand. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 To ARSENE HOUSSAYE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 16$ January, 1858. 
 
 Your letter, my dear poet, has just reached me 
 through our Brussels friend. It touches me deeply. 
 You have, like me, your beloved grave, your dear spirit, 
 your never healing wound. Between our souls is the 
 great link of a common sorrow. When the blow fell 
 
148 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 on you, I thought of you, I recalled that charming 
 woman, now a spirit. Alas ! to lose those we love is 
 the only real sorrow ; all the rest is nothing ; I have 
 said so in the book of which you speak in such high 
 terms. 
 
 Take courage ; you have all the great consolations of 
 poetry and art, and who should hope more than the 
 poet ? Hecho de esperar, as Calderon says. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 28th May, 1858. 
 
 Do you ever happen to think of me a little ? I fancy 
 it must be so, for I glide so gently and naturally into 
 thoughts of you. 
 
 I have just been reading Les beaux messieurs de 
 Bois-Dore, and every time I read one of your books 
 my heart expands with joy. I delight in all'the strength, 
 in all the grace, in the beautiful style, in the lofty mind, 
 in the charming discoveries on every page, in feeling 
 the throbs of the powerful philosophy underneath the 
 caressing poetry, and in finding such a great man in a 
 woman. Permit me to tell you that my sympathies are 
 entirely yours. 
 
 My house is still but a hovel ; it has been taken 
 possession of by worthy Guernsey workmen, who, be- 
 lieving that I am grand, think themselves justified in 
 making a little money out of " the rich French gentle- 
 man," and in prolonging the work and the profit. I 
 imagine, however, that it will be finished one day ; and 
 that then, perhaps, in some time or other, you will take 
 a fancy to come to it, and consecrate a small corner of 
 
TO JULES SIMON. 149 
 
 it by your presence and your memory. What do you 
 say to that illusion ? 
 
 What a treasure illusions are ! I love them, but I 
 love realities still more, and a woman like you is a 
 glorious reality in an age. Write, console, instruct, 
 continue your grand work ; live amongst us with the 
 indulgent serenity of great affronted souls, 
 
 XXXII. 
 
 To JULES SIMON. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 25th June, [1859]. 
 
 Your fine book La Liberte has been a long time in 
 reaching me, and I have spent a long time in reading 
 it and meditating on it. Do not be surprised, then, at 
 my slowness in thanking you for it ; I do not apologize 
 for this ; the delay is of small importance : works like 
 yours can afford to wait, because they will last. 
 
 It is almost a code that you have written ; from one 
 end to the other there is a genuine breath of legisla- 
 tion. 
 
 It has often happened to me in reading your works 
 to feel the kind of surprise and delight that one ex- 
 periences on finding one's own thoughts admirably 
 expressed by another person. Your chapter on pro- 
 perty, in particular, is one of the profoundest and most 
 telling parts of your book. It is a great gift, and 
 you possess it, to be able to enforce irrefutable theories 
 by a captivating style. These two volumes, in which 
 history is so powerfully appealed to in support of phi- 
 losophy and facts in support of ideals, will rank as a 
 great work. You have selected the right moment for 
 defending liberty ; there is no better time than the 
 darkness for glorifying the light. 
 
150 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XXXIII. 
 
 To AD^ILE HUGO, in London. 
 
 21st July, 1859. 
 
 You are wrong, dear child ; a smile and a kiss from 
 you are more precious to me than all the flowers here 
 below and all the light from above. I long to see your 
 mother and you again ; my birthday is a sad affair 
 nowadays : last year illness and this year absence. 
 
 However, if you both return in good health, I shall 
 think that all is for the best. But you have chosen a 
 bad time for your trip ; I hear on all sides that London 
 is infected and poisoned by the Thames in the summer ; 
 the papers are full of horrid details of the cleansing 
 process which has been necessarily suspended. So make 
 haste and get out of that fever-den. 
 
 All is well at Hauteville. Charles is resting, Lux l 
 reflecting, Toto 2 grinding away, Chougna 3 meditating, 
 I am working, the garden perfumes the air. I assure 
 you we have roses coming into bloom which look as if 
 they would outlast the Palmerston Ministry, and that 
 we too have a first-rate concert, gratis, of waves, of 
 breezes, and of birds. Beethoven's is the only music I 
 could listen to after that which I have here. 
 
 I hope, dear child, that you too will get to like it 
 some day, and that, with your fine feeling for melody 
 and harmony, you will not always be insensible to the 
 great symphony of God. 
 
 My garden is the dress circle at that opera. Come 
 back to it, my beloved daughter, with your dear mother, 
 as soon as possible. I embrace you both tenderly. 
 
 1 Charles Hugo's dog. fl Francois Hugo. 8 Victor Hugo's dog. 
 
TO VILLEMAIN. 151 
 
 XXXIV. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 21s August, 1859. 
 
 Will you allow me to remind you that I am still 
 your slave? It is in my nature to persist, and at any 
 rate it is not in my admiration and tender respect for 
 you that I could fail. Do not therefore put down my 
 long intervals of silence to f orgetf ulness. 
 
 I work and meditate in my solitude, and I think of 
 the noble minds who, like you, fan the flame of the 
 great Vestal called the Idea in France. Yes, you have 
 the ideal within you; pour it forth, pour it on the 
 hapless multitude of to-day steeped in materialism and 
 brutality ; discharge your august function of priestess, 
 and you will earn my heartfelt thanks. 
 
 As I am writing to you, I will not conclude with- 
 out inclosing some lines which I cannot publish in 
 France, and which you will readily understand, on the 
 last piece of insolence of this wretched reussisseur. 1 
 
 When will you come to illumine my darkness ? 
 Dear and great mind, I love and venerate you. 
 
 XXXV. 
 
 To VILLEMAIN. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 17th November, 1859. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, Do you know what exile means ? 
 It means waiting for six months to hear words uttered 
 by you, who are one of the illustrious speakers of the 
 age. A friend from Paris came to see me yesterday. 
 
 1 The amnesty proposal of 1859, rejected by a number of exiles with 
 Victor Hugo at their head. 
 
152 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 He had the happy idea of putting into his trunk your 
 book on Pindar, and since yesterday I have done nothing 
 but read that excellent and profound work. I bathe 
 in Pindar and in you as in a life-giving stream. You 
 translate Pindar as you feel him, as you interpret him, 
 powerfully, and when I say Pindar, I include ^schy- 
 lus, Sophocles, Aristophanes, Horace, all those divine 
 genuine poets. Their spirit has completely saturated 
 yours. Your prose does not clip those grand wings. 
 
 The reason is that with the noblest instincts and the 
 most steadfast courage you combine the flame of enthu- 
 siasm. Your book is a history in which at times one 
 feels the throb of poetry. The last few pages are a 
 splendid ode to the future. 
 
 I do not perhaps agree with you on every point, but 
 that is of small importance. I regard your book as I 
 do you, with profound esteem. An occasional greet- 
 ing from you, in the Chamber, or at the Academy, or 
 by the fireside, is one of the pleasures of my native 
 land which I miss the most. 
 
 In two passages of your fine book you allude to me 
 with a sort of tender emotion which goes to my heart. I 
 thank you. I have been resting in you for the last few 
 hours as in a haven of the mind. I need these periods 
 of rest sometimes in my solitude, in face of the ocean, 
 amid this sombre scenery which has a supreme attrac- 
 tion for me, and which draws me toward the dazzling 
 apparitions of the infinite. Sometimes I spend the 
 whole night meditating on my fate, before the great 
 deep, and at times all I can do is to exclaim : Stars ! 
 stars ! stars ! 
 
 Your book is one of those which gently produces a 
 
TO ALEXASTDRE DUMAS. 153 
 
 change of ecstasy. Instead of the sea-eagle, I watched 
 Pindar soar. I listened as you narrated and with 
 what exalted eloquence ! the history of enthusiasm, 
 that is to say, of human genius. And in the way in 
 which you pronounce that lofty and enchanting word, 
 " Liberty," I recognized the very echo of my soul. 
 I press your two hands in mine, my illustrious friend. 
 
 XXXVI. 
 
 To ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, llth December, 1859. 
 
 It is you, dear Dumas, whom I must congratulate 
 on your son's last success l and on all his successes. 
 How truly admirable and delightful ! the father par- 
 taking of the fame of the son, the son sharing in the 
 glory of the father. 
 
 Yes, you are indeed a pere prodigue ; you have 
 given him everything, striking situations, ardent pas- 
 sion, lifelike dialogue, sparkling style ; and at the same 
 time a miracle quite simple in art you have kept 
 everything; you have made him rich without impov- 
 erishing yourself. 
 
 And he, on his side, manages to be original, while 
 remaining your son ; he is you and he is himself. Pray 
 embrace him for me. 
 
 I also, anch' io, have sons who make me happy (and, 
 I add in a whisper, proud, for we fathers are obliged to 
 be modest about our children), and it is as a proud 
 father that I congratulate you, the glorious one. But 
 let this be said discreetly and between ourselves. 
 
 So you are starting. If I were Horace, how I would 
 
 1 Alluding to the performance of Le pere prodigue. 
 
154 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 sing to Virgil's ship ! You are going to the land of 
 the sun, to Italy, to Greece, to Egypt; you will sail 
 on sapphire waters, you will behold the smiling sea. 
 / remain in the gloomy one. My Ocean envies your 
 Mediterranean. Go, be radiant, be great, and come 
 back. Te referent fluctus ! 
 
 Your friend. 
 
 XXXVII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 20th December, 1859. 
 
 I thank you for your delightful and grand words. 
 You speak to me of the Legende des siecles in terms 
 of which Homer would be proud. I am pleased that 
 this book has arrested your bright steadfast gaze for a 
 few moments. 
 
 Just now I am overwhelmed with grief. They have 
 killed John Brown. The murder took place on the 2d 
 of December. The promised respite was an infamous 
 device for lulling popular indignation. And it is a 
 republic which has done this ! What sinister folly it 
 is to be an owner of men ; and see what it leads to ! 
 Here is a free nation putting to death a liberator ! 
 Alas ! my heart is indeed sad. The crimes of kings 
 one can understand : a king's crime has nothing ab- 
 normal about it; but crimes committed by a people 
 are intolerable to the thinker. 
 
 I am reading your admirable letter over again with 
 delight and consolation. You too have your trials. 
 For me, who often gaze at you, they enhance the sweet 
 and lofty calm of your countenance. 
 
 I respect and admire you. 
 
TO THECEL. 155 
 
 XXXVIII. 
 To HENRI DE LACRETELLE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 1th February, 1860. 
 
 There is no consolation, dear poet, for grief such as 
 yours. Alas ! that charming woman, that flower of 
 your youth, that dawn of your life, that luminous 
 vision of our past, has really gone ! She was a sweet 
 apparition, she is now a spirit. We are born to lose 
 all that is best here below. It is seventeen years ago 
 that an angel I had, my daughter, departed; but I 
 have her still ; I cannot see her, but I feel her in my 
 life, and I await her when I die. You too now turn 
 your thoughts in this direction. It is the law of life. 
 We must die successively in all those whom we love, to 
 live again in them hereafter. 
 
 You have all the great and serious interests of 
 poetry and art ; your noble mind will heal the wounds 
 of your broken heart. 
 
 Courage, dear poet. I press your hand tenderly. 
 
 XXXIX. 
 
 To THECEL, of the Independence Beige. 
 
 February, 1860. 
 
 I have just read a delightful article of yours, bril- 
 liant and serious at the same time, on George Sand's 
 tales of rural life. I commend you heartily, and I 
 thank you for having praised George Sand, especially 
 at the present moment. There is an unsatisfactory 
 tendency just now to disparage her great reputation 
 and eminent talents. The first symptoms of this some- 
 what virulent epidemic appeared several years ago. 
 
156 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 True, no one understands and admits more readily 
 than I do the lofty and serious criticism to which ^Es- 
 chylus, Isaiah, Dante, and Shakespeare themselves have 
 to submit, and which has the same rights over the spots 
 in Homer as the astronomer has over the spots on the 
 sun ; but the fierceness of literary hatreds, the rancor 
 of men against a woman, and even assize court rhetoric 
 directed against a high-minded and illustrious writer, 
 these I do resent ; they surprise and offend me deeply. 
 
 George Sand is a luminous heart, a beautiful charac- 
 ter, a generous combatant on the side of progress, a 
 light of our age ; she is a far more genuine and power- 
 ful philosopher than certain good people who enjoy 
 more or less notoriety just at the present moment. 
 And yet this thinker, this poet, this woman, is the vic- 
 tim of a sort of blind and unjust reaction ! I repeat 
 the word reaction, for it has several meanings, and 
 includes everything. 
 
 For my part, I have never felt more disposed to 
 honor George Sand than now when she is being in- 
 sulted. 
 
 XL. 
 
 To CHAMPFLEUBT. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE Housp, 18th March, 1860. 
 
 I hasten to answer your affectionate letter. The 
 undertaking you have in hand, successfully carried out 
 by a man like you, cannot but promote the intellectual 
 movement now in progress. 
 
 Art is not perfectible ; that constitutes its greatness, 
 and that is the source of its eternity (I use this word 
 of course in the human sense). ^Eschylus remains 
 ^Eschylus, even after Shakespeare; Homer remains 
 
TO M. HEURTELOU 157 
 
 Homer, even after Dante ; Phidias remains Phidias, 
 even after Michael Angelo. Only the appearance of 
 Shakespeares, of Dantes, and of Michael Angelos is not 
 limited ; the constellations of yesterday do not block 
 the path of the constellations of the morrow ; and for 
 a good reason, because the infinite cannot be crowded. 
 So forward ! there is room for all. We cannot sur- 
 pass geniuses, but we may equal them. God, who has 
 created the human brain, is inexhaustible and fills it 
 with bright luminaries. 
 
 As long ago as 1830 I said, rejecting all appellations 
 which are transitory and which characterize nothing: 
 The literature of the nineteenth century will have but 
 one name ; it will be called democratic literature. It 
 will have but one aim : the increase of human enlight- 
 enment through the combined action of the real and 
 the ideal, 
 
 The novel is almost a conquest of modern art ; the 
 novel is one of the forces of progress and one of the 
 resources of human genius in this great nineteenth 
 century ; and you, by the precision as well as the ele- 
 vation of your mind, are one of the masters of it. 
 
 XLI. 
 
 To M. HEURTELOU, editor of the Progres at Port-au-Prince 
 (Haiti). 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 31st March, 1860. 
 
 Your letter touches me. You are a noble specimen 
 of that colored race which has been so long oppressed 
 and misunderstood. From one end of the earth to the 
 other the same flame burns in man, and you are one of 
 those who prove it. Was there more than one Adam ? 
 
158 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Philosophers may discuss the question, but what is cer- 
 tain is that there is but one God. As there is but one 
 Father, we are all brothers. It was for this truth that 
 John Brown died ; it is for this truth that I fight. 
 You thank me for it, and I cannot tell you how much 
 your noble words move me. There is neither black 
 nor white in the world, there are spirits only ; you are 
 one of them. All souls are white before God. 
 
 I love your country, your race, your liberty, your 
 republic. Your beautiful island has an attraction just 
 now for free spirits ; she has just set a great example : 
 she has crushed despotism. 
 
 She will help us to crush slavery. For slavery will 
 disappear. What the Southern States have just killed 
 is not John Brown, but slavery. 
 
 Henceforth the American Union may be looked on 
 as broken up. I deeply regret it, but it is a foregone 
 conclusion. Between the North and the South there is 
 the gibbet of John Brown. 
 
 Joint responsibility is no longer possible. The bur- 
 den of such a crime cannot be borne by two persons. 
 Continue your task, you and your worthy fellow-citi- 
 zens. Haiti is now a centre of light. It is a grand 
 thing that among the torches of progress which light 
 the path of mankind, one should be seen in the hands 
 of the negro. 
 
 Your brother. 
 
TO THE RIBEYROLLES COMMITTEE. 159 
 
 XLII. 
 
 To THE MEMBERS OF THE COMMITTEE for erecting a monument 
 to Ribeyrolles, at Rio-de-Janeiro. 
 
 4th November, 1860. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, Ribeyrolles sought a home with you, 
 and he wrote a fine book about you, a book worthy of 
 your noble nation, of your illustrious history, of your 
 beautiful country. He noted with enthusiastic sym- 
 pathy your more and more enlightened advance in the 
 direction of progress. He has done fraternal justice to 
 you in the name of democracy and civilization. Many 
 pages of his book are like marble tablets on which your 
 glory is written, on which your future is predicted. He 
 died at this task, he died an exile, he died poor ; you 
 Brazilians owed him a debt ; you have decided to repay 
 it in a splendid fashion. 
 
 Ribeyrolles had erected a monument to Brazil ; Bra- 
 zil raises a memorial to Ribeyrolles. All honor to you ! 
 To receive in this way, and to make such a return, is 
 doubly admirable. 
 
 You desire an epitaph for his tomb, and it is to me 
 that you apply; you ask for my signature on the monu- 
 ment. I am deeply sensible of the honor you do me. 
 I thank you for it. 
 
 From the dawn of history, two sorts of men have 
 led mankind : the oppressors and the liberators. The 
 former sway it for evil, the latter for good. Of all 
 liberators the thinker is the most effective ; his action 
 is never violent; the mildest of powers, and conse- 
 quently the greatest, is the mind. The mind inflicts 
 deadly blows on evil. Thinkers emancipate the human 
 
160 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 race. They suffer, but they triumph ; they accomplish 
 the salvation of others by the sacrifice of themselves. 
 They may die in exile ; but no matter, their ideal sur- 
 vives them, and continues after their death the work of 
 liberty they began during their life. 
 
 Charles Kibeyrolles was a liberator. 
 
 The emancipation of all peoples and of all men, 
 that was his aim. Humanity free, the nations brothers, 
 that was his sole ambition. 
 
 This rooted idea, which was destined to end in his 
 exile and his glory, is what I have tried to set forth 
 in the six lines which I send you, and which you can 
 engrave on his tomb if you think fit. 
 
 For my part, I rejoice in the appeal which you 
 make to me. I respond to it with alacrity. You are 
 noble men, yours is a generous nation; you possess the 
 double advantage of a virgin soil and an ancient race ; 
 you are linked to the great historical past of the civiliz- 
 ing continent; you mingle the light of Europe with 
 the sun of America. It is in the name of France that 
 I honor you. 
 
 Ribeyrolles had done this before me. He had greeted 
 you with all his eloquence ; he commended you, and he 
 loved you. You honor his memory, and you do well. 
 It is the great brotherhood of mankind asserting itself ; 
 it is the meeting of two worlds around the bier of an 
 exile ; it is Brazil shaking hands with France across the 
 ocean. 
 
 Accept my thanks ! Ribeyrolles, in fact, belongs to 
 you as he does to us ; such men are common property ; 
 even their exile has the merit of bringing into relief 
 this universal brotherhood ; and when despots rob them 
 
TO M. CHENAY. 161 
 
 of their native land, it is a grand thing that peoples 
 should give them a tomb. 
 
 I greet you and I am your brother. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 X CHARLES RLBEYROLLES. 
 
 II accepta 1'exil ; il aima les souffrances ; 
 Intre'pide, il voulut toutes les delivrances ; 
 II servit tons les droits par toutes les vertus ; 
 Car I'ide'e est un glaive et 1'ame est une force, 
 
 Et la plume de Wilberforce 
 Sort du meme fourreau que le fer de Brutus. 
 
 XLIII. 
 
 To M. CHENAY. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 21st January, 1861. 
 
 DEAR MONSIEUR CHENAY, You expressed a wish 
 to engrave my drawing of John Brown, 1 and now you 
 desire to publish it ; I consent, and I add that I think it 
 desirable. 
 
 John Brown is a hero and a martyr. His death was 
 a crime. His gibbet is a cross. You remember that I 
 wrote at the foot of the drawing : Pro Christo, sicut 
 Christus. 
 
 When in December, 1859, I predicted to America 
 with deep sorrow the rupture of the Union as a conse- 
 quence of the murder of John Brown, I did not think 
 that the event would follow so quickly on my words. 
 At the present moment all that was in John Brown's 
 scaffold is issuing from it ; the latent fatalities of a 
 year ago are now visible, and from henceforth the rup- 
 
 1 Victor Hugo had made a large and splendid drawing represent- 
 ing John Brown on the gallows, with the inscription, Pro Christo, sicut 
 Christus. 
 
 VOL. n. 11 
 
162 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 ture of the American Union, a great calamity, is to be 
 dreaded ; but the abolition of slavery, an immense step 
 in advance, to be hoped for. 
 
 Let us then once more call the attention of all to the 
 gibbet of Charlestown, as a lesson, and as the point of 
 departure of these grave events. 
 
 My drawing, which your fine talent has reproduced 
 with such striking fidelity, has no value but in its name 
 of John Brown, a name which must be continually 
 repeated, to the republicans of America, to remind 
 them of their duty, to the slaves, to summon them to 
 freedom. 
 
 XLIV. 
 
 To M. CRMIEUX. 
 
 BBAINE-L' ALLEN, 28th May, 1861. 
 
 DEAR FRIEND, I have received your letter of the 
 25th of March ; but it did not reach me till to-day, the 
 28th of May. On the 25th of March, I left Guernsey, 
 being unwell and in search of change of air ; for the 
 last two months I have been moving from one town to 
 another, enjoying the pleasures of convalescence, and it 
 is only to-day that I had the joy of reading your kind 
 and charming letter. It touches me deeply. You are 
 not only a man of eloquence and power, you are a good 
 man. Vir bonus . . . and all the rest of the defini- 
 tion. I can hardly express to you how dear you are to 
 me, how fond we all are of you. I, your client, and 
 my son Charles, your other client, are always talking 
 of you. No one is more eloquent than you ; no one 
 has a loftier soul. This is natural, however ; it is the 
 soul which inspires the voice. 
 
 I am quite well again. I shall return to my rock 
 
TO THE ITALIAN MANAGING COMMITTEE. 163 
 
 very soon. If ever some good star were to bring you 
 there, oh, my dear visitor, how glad I should be to re- 
 ceive you in my poor abode ! It would be a red-letter 
 day for all the refugees, and you would gladden our 
 exile as you console the fatherland. 
 
 Lay at your daughter's feet the autograph she is good 
 enough to ask for. I was a long time thinking over a 
 phrase to write at the foot of this portrait, which should 
 express everything of which Mademoiselle Cremieux is 
 entitled to be proud, and at last I found it. Here 
 it is : 
 
 To the daughter of Cremieux. 
 
 I press your hand, my noble and generous friend. 
 
 XLV. 
 
 To MESSRS. GIUSEPPE PALMERI, LUIGI PORTA, SAVERIO FRISCIA, 
 Members of the Italian Managing Committee, at Palermo. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 21st June, 1861. 
 
 GENTLEMEN, In your eloquent letter, which touches 
 me deeply, you inform me that my name has just been 
 inscribed on the list of the Association for Italian Unity 
 by the spontaneous and unanimous decision of the 
 whole society. 
 
 I accept with pleasure the place which you offer me 
 among you. As far as my duty to democracy will 
 allow I shall warmly second your efforts. You thank 
 me in a grand fashion for the little I have done ; such 
 thanks are a reward. 
 
 Members of the Italian Committee, your undertaking 
 is a sacred one. The restoration of a great people is 
 more than a restoration, it is a resurrection. All the 
 forces of progress converge on the aim which you pur- 
 
164 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 sue, and assist you. In founding Italy, you are not 
 laboring solely for your own country, but for the world. 
 United Italy is necessary to civilization. 
 
 The great Europe of the future is already beginning 
 to take shape. The tendency of peoples is to group 
 themselves in races, as a preliminary to grouping them- 
 selves in continents. These are the two phases of civ- 
 ilization which are logically linked together, the one 
 leading up to the other : first national unity, then 
 continental union. These two steps in advance will be 
 the achievement of the nineteenth century ; it has 
 already nearly accomplished the first, it will not come 
 to a close without having accomplished the second. 
 
 A time will come when frontiers will cease to exist. 
 All wars will disappear in the fraternity of races. That 
 will be the great day of the human fatherland. 
 
 Pending the realization of these sublime changes of 
 the future, continue, persevere, advance; let all men of 
 intelligence and feeling do the duty of the moment ; 
 let each nation demand its unity, the necessary contri- 
 bution of each people to the great federal compact of 
 the future ; let a lofty political philosophy inspire and 
 transform diplomacy itself ; let whoever mutilates or 
 diminishes a people be outlawed by humanity. Let us 
 all be fellow-countrymen in progress, and let us all re- 
 peat, from the European as well as from the Italian 
 point of view : Italy must have Venice and Rome, for 
 without Venice and Rome there can be no Italy, and 
 without Italy there can be no Europe. 
 
TO EMILE DE GIRARDIN. 165 
 
 XLVI. n 
 
 To EMILE DE GIRARDIN. 
 
 LONDON, 16^ August, [1861]. 
 
 I am in London, staying at an inn ; a newspaper has 
 just been brought me, the Presse ; I find in it your 
 name, which I am always looking for, and my name, 
 which you are fond of writing. You are right ; if we 
 could have a free discussion in public, we should soon 
 agree ; you are a follower of the radical and I of the 
 ideal. Well, the root is the idea. 
 
 But it is no use your being Girardin and Voltaire 
 being Voltaire ; both Voltaire and Girardin are obliged 
 to make concessions, and must always, to obtain permis- 
 sion to speak, be scattering the word king here and 
 there in their most logical and most unanswerable argu- 
 ments, as Spinoza scatters the word Christianity. Well, 
 in philosophical radicalism the word Christianity is 
 only a drop ; in political radicalism the word king is 
 only a drop ; but a drop of arsenic, mixed with the 
 best beverage in the world, makes it difficult to digest. 
 
 When the day comes for you to be free, your grand 
 logic will burst forth in all its fullness, and will bring 
 out the accuracy of your profound mind. On that day 
 we shall evidently, I imagine, be agreed on almost all 
 points. In the mean while, you are obliged to accept 
 the men of the Empire, and the Empire within certain 
 limits, just as Orpheus accepts Cerberus in order to pass 
 him ; and you throw them your noble style as a sop. 
 They will let you pass, but you will return alone, and 
 they will not let you bring back the Eurydice called 
 Liberty. A serpent has stung her in the heel, and a 
 demon guards her in the sepulchre. 
 
166 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 All the same, I am glad to have a talk with you. 
 You are in my eyes one of the great servants of pro- 
 gress, of truth, of logic, and of liberty ; our differences 
 are only reasons why we should try to understand each 
 other thoroughly. 
 
 XLVII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 18th February, 1862. 
 
 Where are you ? Where will this letter find you ? 
 At Nohant or in Paris ? Do you sometimes think of 
 a distant friend whom you have never seen, and who is 
 sincerely and deeply attached to you ? All the good, 
 great, and beautiful things that you have done for all 
 in this age you, a woman, with your tenderness, 
 you, a sage, with your love make me one of your 
 debtors, and amid the immensities which surround me, 
 ocean, sky, stars, nature, humanity, storms, revolutions, 
 I call to you and I think of you, and my spirit says to 
 yours : Come. 
 
 I am overwhelmed with work and business, and in 
 this predicament, with which you are familiar, when 
 one has not a moment to one's self, a letter to write 
 seems an aggravation ; but it is a rest to write to you. 
 
 Your glory is one of those which shine with mild 
 rays. The contemplation of a light such as yours is 
 a joy to the soul. 
 
 When shall we be able to converse, and see each 
 other, and tell each other all that we have to say? 
 Alas ! France seems to be receding from me ; I only 
 wish Guernsey could move nearer to you. 
 
 It seems to me that, if you liked, you are prophet 
 enough to make the mountain come to you. 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 167 
 
 I kiss your hand, and I thank it and congratulate it 
 on having written so many beautiful works. 
 
 XLVIII. 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 6$ May, [1862]. 
 
 Your letter has made me sad. Imagine what a pain- 
 ful surprise it was to me. I had fancied that this 
 book 1 would bring us still nearer to each other, and 
 now I find that it estranges us, that it almost disunites 
 us. I should be angry with the book if I were not 
 convinced of its perfect sincerity. 
 
 Evidently one of us is wrong. Is it you ? Is it I ? 
 As your outspokenness encourages mine, allow me to 
 tell you that I think it is you. 
 
 I had dreamed that you, the great George Sand, 
 would understand my heart as I understand yours. At 
 any rate, living a solitary life, face to face with my in- 
 tention and alone with my conscience, I am sure, if not 
 of my achievement, at all events of my purpose ; I am 
 sure of my heart, which is the slave of justice, of the 
 ideal, of reason, of all that is great, generous, beautiful, 
 and true, of yourself. 
 
 XLIX. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 18th May, [1862]. 
 
 It is nice to be wounded by goddesses when one is 
 healed by them. Thank you for your two exquisite 
 and kind letters. Those who cannot be charming are 
 
 1 The first part of Les Miserdbles. George Sand had given a qualified 
 approval only to the saintly Abbe* Myriel. 
 
168 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 not great, and you prove this, for you are charming. 
 Your greatness converts itself at will into grace, and 
 it is in this way that it shows itself. . . . You who have 
 strength, possess charm as well. 
 
 Do not be afraid of my becoming too much of a 
 Christian. I believe in Christ as I do in Socrates, and 
 in God more than in myself. I am more certain of 
 the existence of God than of my own. If you go on 
 with the book, read the part called Parenthese; your 
 anxiety about this imaginary apprehension of yours 
 will be dispelled. 
 
 Let us change the subject to you. Now you are 
 happy into the bargain. Your son, who has something 
 of your genius, is going to be married. Be successful 
 in Paris and happy at Nohant. Live in an atmosphere 
 of glory; that is a fitting lot for you. I kiss your 
 hands, and I thank you for your adorable letters. I 
 perceive that I am in love with you. Luckily I am an 
 old man ! 
 
 L. 
 
 To LAMARTINE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 24th June, lS6$. 
 
 MY ILLUSTRIOUS FRIEND, If to be an idealist is 
 to be a radical, then I am one. Yes, from every point 
 of view, I understand, I desire, and I hail improve- 
 ment ; le mieuXy though condemned in the proverb, is 
 not the ennemi du bien, for that would be equivalent 
 to saying that it is the friend of evil. Yes, a society 
 which tolerates misery, a religion which admits hell, 
 a humanity which admits war, appear to me to be a 
 society, a religion, and a humanity of a lower order ; 
 and it is towards the society, the humanity, and the 
 
TO LAMARTINE. 169 
 
 religion of a higher world that I aspire : society with- 
 out kings, humanity without frontiers, religion without 
 sacred books. Yes, I combat the priest who sells lies 
 and the judge who administers injustice. To univer- 
 salize property (which is the reverse of abolishing it) 
 by getting rid of parasitism, i. e., to achieve the follow- 
 ing object, every man an owner_ol_ property and no 
 man master, that is my idea of true social and political 
 economy. To sum up, as far as a man can will it, I 
 would destroy human fatality, condemn slavery, ban- 
 ish misery, enlighten ignorance, cure disease, illumine 
 darkness, and detest hatred. 
 
 These are my principles, and that is why I wrote Les 
 Miser ables. 
 
 *^In my view Les Miserdbles is simply a book with 
 fraternity for its starting-point and progress for its 
 goal. 
 
 Now judge me. Literary disputes between persons 
 who have received a literary education are ridiculous, 
 but political and social discussion between poets, that 
 is to say between philosophers, is serious and fruitful. 
 Evidently your aims are the same as mine, to a great 
 extent at least ; only perhaps you would like to see the 
 transition made still more gentle. For my part, while 
 putting aside all idea of violence and reprisals, I con- 
 fess that, seeing so much suffering, I am in favor of 
 the shortest way. 
 
 Dear Lamartine, long ago, in 1820, the first lispings 
 of my youthful muse were a cry of enthusiasm at the 
 dazzling rise of your genius on the world. Those lines 
 are in my published works and I love them ; they are 
 there with many others which glorify your splendid 
 
170 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 gifts. To-day you think it is your turn to speak of me, 
 and I am proud of it. We have loved each other for 
 forty years, and we are still alive ; you would not wish 
 to spoil this past or the future, I am sure. Do what 
 you will with my book and with me. Nothing but 
 light can come from your hands. 
 
 Your old friend, VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LI. 
 To OCTAVE LACKOIX. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 30$ June, 1862. 
 
 DEAR SIR, I readily answer your letter, for I 
 recognize in you a valiant combatant for truth and 
 right, and I greet a noble mind. 
 
 After having, like you, fought against the Second of 
 December, I was banished from France. I wrote Napo- 
 leon le Petit at Brussels ; I had to leave Belgium. I 
 went to Jersey, and there fought for three years against 
 the common enemy ; the English government was sub- 
 jected to the same pressure as the Belgian government, 
 and I had to leave Jersey. I have been in Guernsey for 
 seven years. I have bought a house here, which gives 
 me the right of citizenship and protects my person ; here 
 I am safe from a fourth expulsion. However, I am 
 bound to say that Jersey two years ago, and Belgium 
 a year ago, spontaneously reopened their doors to me. 
 
 I live near the sea in a house built sixty years ago 
 by an English privateer and called Hauteville House. 
 I, a representative of the people and an exiled soldier 
 of the French Republic, pay droit de poulage every 
 year to the Queen of England, sovereign lady of the 
 Channel Islands, as Duchess of Normandy and my 
 
1 71 
 
 . -L I A 
 
 feudal suzerain. This is one of the curious results of 
 exile. 
 
 I live a retired life here, with my wife, my daughter, 
 and my two sons, Charles and Francois. A few exiles 
 have joined me, and we make a family party. Every 
 Tuesday I give a dinner to fifteen little children, chosen 
 from among the most poverty-stricken of the island, 
 and my family and I wait on them ; I try by this 
 means to give this feudal country an idea of equality 
 and fraternity. Every now and then a friend crosses 
 the sea and pays me a visit. These are our gala-days. 
 I have some dogs, some birds, some flowers. I hope 
 next year to have a small carriage and a horse. My 
 pecuniary circumstances, which had been brought to a 
 very low ebb by the coup d'etat, have been somewhat 
 improved by my book Les Miserables. I get up early, 
 I go to bed early, I work all day, I walk by the sea, I 
 have a sort of natural armchair in a rock for writing at 
 a beautiful spot called Firmain Bay; I do not read the 
 seven hundred and forty articles published against me 
 during the last three months (and counted by my pub- 
 lishers) in the Catholic newspapers of Belgium, Italy, 
 Austria, and Spain. I am very fond of the worthy, 
 hard-working little people among whom I live, and I 
 think they are rather fond of me, too. I do not smoke, 
 I eat roast beef like an Englishman, and I drink beer 
 like a German ; which does not prevent the Espana, a 
 clerical newspaper of Madrid, from asserting that Vic- 
 tor Hugo does not exist, and that the real author of 
 Les Miser ables is called Satan. 
 
 Here, dear sir, you have nearly all the details for 
 which you ask me. Allow me to complete them by a 
 cordial shake of the hand. 
 
172 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LII. 
 
 To PAUL DE SAINT-VICTOR. 
 
 2d October, 1862. 
 
 I have just read your first article on Les Miserables. 
 I thank you. For the last fourteen years, you have 
 been writing, page by page and day by day, one of the 
 great books of the age, the history of contemporary 
 art confronted with the ideal. This serene comparison 
 is the triumph of your luminous mind. Thought, poe- 
 try, philosophy, painting, and sculpture, you light up 
 all with the splendid reflection of that vision of the 
 beautiful which is within you. 
 
 And the charm of your soul is that it is a heart. In 
 your artistic and philosophic teaching one feels the pro- 
 found emotion of justice and of truth. With JEschy- 
 lus you are Greek, with Dante you are Italian, and, 
 above all, you are human. This makes you the pro- 
 found thinker and the great writer whom I admire. 
 
 You know that not a line of yours escapes me. I 
 read your works with the tender assiduity of a kindred 
 spirit. At each stroke you hit the mark, and for many 
 a year I have been following you with my eyes, and 
 admiring you as one shaft after another from your 
 inexhaustible quiver flies into the targets of the true 
 and the beautiful. 
 
 To-day I am proud of the work which you link with 
 mine. You inlay my wall with marble bas-reliefs. 
 After reading the admirable article, in which every 
 word has the profundity of the idea and the transpar- 
 ency of truth, I ought to have controlled my feelings, 
 and held my peace until the series was finished and I 
 
TO MICHELET. 173 
 
 could give you my impression of it as a whole. In 
 future I will do so, but I was unable to do it on this 
 occasion. 
 
 You forgive me, do you not ? 
 
 Dear and great thinker, I press your hand. 
 
 LIII. 
 
 To MICHELET. 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2d December, 1862. 
 
 I finished reading La Sorciere this morning, dear 
 and great philosopher. I thank you for having written 
 this fine work. In it you have depicted truth in all its 
 aspects, of which, perhaps, the grandest is pity. You 
 are not satisfied with convincing, you must touch your 
 readers. This book is one of your great triumphs. 
 
 I love everything in it : the lifelike style, which 
 suffers with the martyr ; the thought, which resembles 
 an expansion of the soul in the infinite ; the large 
 heart, the knowledge blended with emotion ; the de- 
 scription, or rather the intuition of nature, from which 
 issues the imposing figure of a sort of demon-god, who 
 draws smiles and tears. 
 
 The hermit thanks you for having sent him this 
 tender, deep, and poignant book. He is a melancholy 
 dreamer, often sadly overwhelmed by the contemplation 
 and the haunting thought of all the suffering in the 
 world ; but when his hand feels the pressure of yours, 
 a ray of light seems to pass before his eyes. 
 
174 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LIV. 
 
 To EMILE DE GIRARDIN. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2d April, 1863. 
 
 The noise made by you people who are still in the 
 world reaches my solitude late, but it does reach it 
 eventually. 
 
 I learn that at a banquet of the Presse you had the 
 splendid courage to evoke the absent, and that, in a 
 toast of the noblest eloquence, you associated my name 
 with that of liberty. 
 
 Liberty will not return under the present regime. It 
 is afraid of her, and it is right ; liberty has a good 
 memory, and no cohabitation is possible between her 
 and this government, born of sudden crime, the coup 
 d'etat, and upheld by a continuous crime, despotism. 
 I do not share your hopes, and on the other hand my 
 hopes might seem illusions to you ; but we are agreed, 
 you and I, in our devotion to progress and to that irre- 
 ducible liberty, the vanquished of to-day, the victor of 
 to-morrow. 
 
 LV. 
 
 To THE MEMBERS OF THE DEMOCRATIC CLUB OF PISA. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 3d April, 1863. 
 
 MY ITALIAN BROTHERS, Your eloquent and noble 
 letter goes to my heart. I accept with alacrity the 
 place which you offer me among you. Italy united 
 and free is my wish, as it is yours. To liberate Italy is 
 to add to civilization. 
 
 This very day, Friday the 3d of April, it is eighteen 
 hundred and sixty-three years since Jesus Christ died 
 upon the Cross. He did not die at Home. He died 
 
TO LAMARTINE. 175 
 
 at Jerusalem. It would seem that the Popes have for- 
 gotten this, since they have seated themselves on the 
 summit of the Capitol without seeing that their place 
 is at the foot of Calvary. Christianity is less august 
 crowned in the Vatican than kneeling at Golgotha. 
 A triple crown of earthly gratification and pride is a 
 strange substitute for the crown of thorns. 
 
 Since the Popes harden their hearts, since they de- 
 spise Jerusalem, since they usurp Rome, Italy too will 
 harden her heart. Italy will resume possession of 
 Rome, as a matter of right and duty. She will resume 
 possession of Rome, as she will resume possession of 
 Venice. The Pope, like the CaBsar, is a foreign sov- 
 ereign. 
 
 LVI. 
 
 To IjAMABTINE. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 23d May, 1863. 
 
 DEAR LAMARTINE, A great blow has befallen you ; 
 I must bring my heart close to yours. I venerated her 
 whom you loved. 
 
 Your lofty spirit sees beyond the horizon ; you have 
 a distinct vision of the future life. There is no need 
 to say " hope " to you. You are one of those who 
 know. 
 
 She is still your companion ; invisible, but present. 
 You have lost the wife, but not the soul. Dear friend, 
 let us live in the dead. 
 
 1 On the death of his wife. 
 
176 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LVII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 TROVES, 26^ August, 1863. 
 
 Forgive this dreadful hotel paper. I am traveling, 
 and I write to you on the first table that comes handy. 
 I am at Treves, surrounded by all kinds of beautiful 
 things, and how is it possible not to think of you ? I 
 have read the noble, charming, and cordial article which 
 you have written on Mme. Victor Hugo's book. 1 It 
 seems to me that henceforth the book is by you both ; 
 you countersign it, you magnify it by your glory. 
 That is an illusion of the heart. Allow me to indulge 
 in it. 
 
 You do not know how much I admire you. I take 
 every opportunity of telling you so, and I thank you 
 for giving me this one. There was, and perhaps there 
 still is, something or other between you and me. But 
 it has disappeared, or will disappear. The main thing 
 for me is that I love you and understand you. You 
 have a unique and exalted glory. You are the great 
 woman of your age. 
 
 LVIII. 
 
 To THE MINISTER OF THE REPUBLIC OF COLOMBIA. 2 
 
 HAUTE VILLE HOUSE, 12th October, 1863. 
 
 I cannot tell you how much your communication 
 touches me. I have devoted my life to progress, and 
 the starting-point of progress in the world is the invio- 
 lability of human life. The corollaries of this principle 
 are the end of war and the abolition of the scaffold. 
 
 1 Victor Hugo raconte par un temoin de sa vie. 
 
 a He had sent Victor Hugo a copy of the Constitution of Colombia. 
 
GENERAL GARIBALDI TO VICTOR HUGO. 177 
 
 The end of war and the abolition of the scaffold 
 mean the suppression of the sword. The sword sup- 
 pressed, despotism will vanish. It loses both its object 
 and its means of existence. 
 
 You send me, on behalf of your free republic, a 
 copy of your constitution. Your constitution abolishes 
 capital punishment, and you are good enough to credit 
 me with a share in this splendid reform. I thank the 
 Republic of the United States of Colombia with deep 
 emotion. In abolishing capital punishment it sets an 
 admirable example. It takes two steps, the one in the 
 direction of happiness, the other in the direction of 
 glory. The high-road lies open. Let America advance, 
 Europe will follow her. 
 
 Transmit, dear sir, my acknowledgments to your 
 noble and free fellow-citizens, and receive the assurance 
 of my high consideration. 
 
 LIX. 
 
 GENERAL GARIBALDI to VICTOR HUGO, at Hauteville House. 
 
 CAPRERA, 25th November, 1863. 
 
 DEAR VICTOR HUGO, I was sure of your coopera- 
 tion, you must be sure of my gratitude. 
 
 What you say is right, and I should like to have the 
 million of souls which would enable me to dispense with 
 the million of guns ; I should like to see the universal 
 agreement which would make war useless. Like you, 
 I await with confidence the regeneration of peoples. 
 But to realize truth without suffering, and to tread 
 the triumphal path of justice without besprinkling it 
 with human blood, is an ideal which has hitherto been 
 sought in vain. 
 
 VOL. U. 12 
 
178 
 
 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 It is for you, who are the torch-bearer, to point out 
 a less cruel way ; it is for us to follow you. 
 
 Your friend for life, 
 
 GARIBALDI. 
 
 LX. 
 
 To GENERAL GARIBALDI, at Caprera. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 20th December, 1863. 
 
 DEAR GARIBALDI, We both of us have faith, and 
 our faith is identical. 
 
 The regeneration of the nations is infallible. For 
 my part, I have a profound conviction that, when the 
 time has come, not much blood will be shed. The Eu- 
 rope of the peoples fara da se. Revolutions, even the 
 most successful and the most necessary ones, bring 
 their responsibility, and you, like me, are one of those 
 who dread their having to bear the tremendous weight 
 of one drop of blood too much. No bloodshed at all 
 would be the ideal ; and why not the ideal ? When 
 the ideal is reached in man, and you alone are sufficient 
 to prove that this is possible, why should it not be 
 reached in things ? 
 
 Hatred decreases in proportion as the moral standard 
 rises. Let us endeavor, then, to raise that standard. 
 Emancipation by means of thought, revolution through 
 civilization, that is our aim, yours as well as mine. 
 And when the last fight has to be fought, there need 
 be no anxiety, it will be beautiful, generous, and great ; 
 it will be as gentle as a fight possibly can be. The 
 problem is in a way solved by your presence. 
 
 Dear friend, I press your illustrious hand. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
TO LOUIS BLANC. 179 
 
 LXI. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 28$ March, 1864. 
 
 I hear that you have returned to Nohant. That is 
 where my applause likes to go in search of you. It is 
 natural that one solitude should write to another. In 
 your splendid triumph in Paris my voice would have 
 been nothing ; it is always of very little account in the 
 blaze of fame which surrounds you ; but it seems to me 
 that down in the country, in the midst of your fields 
 and your trees, you will hear it better. 
 
 My pleasures are but few ; your success is one of 
 them, and one of the best. You give our age an op- 
 portunity for being just. I thank you for being great 
 and I thank you for being admired. In a gloomy 
 period such as ours, your glory is a consolation. 
 
 LXII. 
 
 To Louis BLANC. 
 
 HAUTEVTLLE HOUSE, 31st March, 1864. 
 
 MY DEAR Louis BLANC, In the book which I am 
 about to publish, 1 and in which I refer incidentally, 
 and in high terms, to the committee, 2 I express myself 
 against the idea of a subscription. A subscription is 
 the ordinary accompaniment of this sort of manifes- 
 tation. But for Shakespeare we want more than the 
 ordinary. I think that the least which should be done 
 for him is the vote of a great public monument by Act 
 of Parliament. 
 
 1 William Shakespeare. 
 
 2 The committee formed in England for erecting a statue to Shake- 
 speare. 
 
180 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 This, in my judgment, is the direction which the ac- 
 tion of the committee should take. Having expressed 
 this opinion, which is about to be published, can I take 
 part in the subscription ? Can I write one thing and 
 do another ? 
 
 If it were a case which concerned the conscience, the 
 immediate answer would be No. The present case 
 admits of less strictness. Nevertheless, would there 
 not be some inconsistency ? You are on the spot, you 
 have a near view of things ; you combine ability with 
 discrimination ; allow me to appeal to you. 
 
 If you think that my book does not prevent me from 
 subscribing, you can at once put me down for five 
 pounds, and my son Francois Victor also for five 
 pounds. If you think there is any drawback in my 
 appearing to change my mind, and that I ought to 
 hold aloof, I will do so. 
 
 My friendship asks permission to abide by the deci- 
 sion of yours. 
 
 LXIII. 
 To GENERAL GARIBALDI. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 24$ April, 1864. 
 
 I did not ask you to come, because you would have 
 come, and, however great might have been my joy at 
 welcoming you you, the real hero ! whatever hap- 
 piness I might have had in receiving you in my house, 
 I knew that you were better employed, and a man has 
 not the right to take you from a people. Guernsey 
 salutes Caprera and perhaps will visit it some day. In 
 the mean while, let us love each other. 
 
 1 Garibaldi was then in London receiving a triumphal reception from 
 the English. 
 
TO CHARLES HUGO. 181 
 
 The English people presents a noble spectacle at this 
 moment. Be the guest of England after having been 
 the liberator of Italy ; that is a grand thing. The 
 man who is applauded is followed. Your triumph in 
 England is a victory for liberty. The old Europe of 
 the Holy Alliance is afraid of it. 
 
 The truth is that these cheers are a precursor of the 
 deliverance. 
 
 XIV. 
 To CHARLES HUGO. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, [1864]. 
 
 Your letter does not reply to the cry which came 
 from the depths of my heart : Return ! 
 
 We all miss you here, and I more than any one, as 
 you are well aware. But I used the word " return " 
 in every sense. I did not mean only return by the rail- 
 way, I meant return by the heart ; do not put an end 
 only to the material separation which has so long parted 
 us, put an end to the mental separation as well. You 
 have caused me great pain, my poor dear child, but I 
 forgive you because I love you, and when one loves, 
 there is one thing which is impossible, and that is not 
 to forgive. 
 
 Yes, my whole heart turns toward you and longs for 
 yours. Return ! return ! Alas ! while you are suffer- 
 ing at a distance, we are suffering too ; you know my 
 last tortures ; that does not prevent me from being 
 torn asunder by yours. You see, I was right ; every- 
 thing is happening as I predicted. 
 
 Ah, my God ! to think of you so far away, so sad ! 
 What a crowd of troubles all at once ! Return ! re- 
 turn ! I can say and think nothing else. 
 
182 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXV. 
 
 To MR. TENNANT, Glamorgan, Wales. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 15th May, 1864. 
 
 DEAR MR. TENNANT, Before writing the book to 
 which you draw my attention, you had done the f ollow- 
 ing things. 
 
 You had poor laborers around you. You lent them 
 thirty acres of your best land. You divided these 
 thirty acres into allotments. Each allotment was large 
 enough for two cottages and two good gardens. And 
 you said to the poor people around you : Here is land 
 for any one who wants it. The alignment must be 
 followed, not more than two cottages can be built on 
 one allotment ; the rent of each allotment is a guinea 
 a year, and I will give you a lease of a thousand years. 
 In a few weeks all the allotments were taken up, hun- 
 dreds of landowners were created, the scheme grew as 
 time went on, and the result at the present day is a 
 small town in Wales, in Glamorganshire, the town of 
 Skewen. Every landowner in Skewen is a voter, i. e., a 
 citizen. You have made more than a town, you have 
 made a city. 
 
 This is not all. You dug at your own expense a 
 canal thirty feet deep and nine miles long, navigable 
 for the largest vessels, and leading to the sea. The 
 seaport is called Port Tennant. 
 
 A town called into being, a canal dug, a port built, 
 is pretty well. 
 
 That, at any rate, is a good preface. 
 
 I am now reading your book, or rather I am having 
 it read to me, for I do not know English. 
 
TO MR. TENNANT. 183 
 
 I am more radical than you, as you are aware. You 
 deal tenderly with parasitism ; I would sweep it away. 
 But, apart from this exception, I accept your book. 
 Many of the expedients indicated by you are very in- 
 genious, very elaborate, very efficacious, and are sup- 
 ported by principles. You sketch out, in sincere and 
 powerful language, a juster apportionment of social 
 burdens, a more normal distribution of territory, a more 
 loyal civilization than ours, a better Europe. One day 
 a better humanity will be your ideal. When that day 
 comes you will understand everything ; you will fight 
 parasitism instead of regulating it ; you will adopt, with 
 all the energy of your upright character, and as an 
 absolute and necessary starting-point of progress, gra- 
 tuitous and compulsory education. Then you will be 
 quite logical, that is, on the way to the whole truth. 
 Then your mind will be complete, and your books will 
 be irrefutable. 
 
 In the mean while I content myself with all the 
 excellent, just, true, and cordial things for the people 
 in your book. The people suffers ; let us love it. I 
 do not say this to you, the founder of towns; I say it to 
 every one. Let us love each other. One day in a sen- 
 tence, I forget where, I had written the word aimer ; 
 the compositor put aider. I accepted this misprint. 
 Let us love each other, and let us help each other. 
 Let the rich love and help the poor ; let the poor love 
 and help the rich. All have need of all. 
 
184 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXVI. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 17th May, 1864. 
 
 It is clear that being so great, you must be charming. 
 Grace is a form of power. You prove this in all your 
 works ; you prove it in the exquisite and superb pages 
 which I have just read. A friend has sent them to me. 
 From henceforth he is more my friend. 
 
 I read what you have said, I read this grand and 
 noble letter ; it is written about me, and it seems to 
 be addressed to me. I am deeply moved. What an 
 inspiration of genius to have worked nature into the 
 book ; to talk of your lif e in the country in the same 
 breath as art and science ; to let the rustling of leaves 
 and the twittering of birds be heard here and there 
 amid the grand things which you say. Dante dictates 
 one page, Virgil another. It is enchantment combined 
 with strength. Ah, Circe ! ah, George Sand ! 
 
 I am very glad to have written that book, since it 
 pleases you. So you like me a little ? Really ? Well, 
 that was one of my ambitions. 
 
 I am very ambitious. I should like to see you. That 
 again is a dream of mine. What a lovely portrait you 
 have sent me ! What beauty, dignity, and grave sweet- 
 ness ! Do not be afraid ; I am an old fellow, and here 
 is my portrait which proves it. I should like to be 
 somewhere in the world, in a remote spot, at Nohant, 
 or Guernsey, or Caprera, with Garibaldi and you ; we 
 should understand each other. It seems to me that we 
 are three good specimens of this age. It is a thousand 
 pities that I cannot go to Nohant. They tell me that 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 185 
 
 I am a voluntary exile. Parbleu ! that is what keeps 
 me here. If I had only Cayenne to fear, I should go 
 to France whenever I liked. 
 
 Your letter converses. At the same time it is in- 
 structive, it is musical, it is meditative. The whole face 
 of nature is reflected in a line of yours like the firma- 
 ment in a drop of dew. You have vistas into the 
 infinite, into life, mankind, the animal world, the soul. 
 That is great. When a philosopher is combined with 
 a woman, nothing can be more admirable. The deeper 
 aspects are treated as well as the lighter ones. I am 
 one of those who hold that the heart should think. 
 You are that heart. Harmonious conversation is the 
 conversation that I like ; we should have it together, I 
 fancy; our points of contact are numerous. Now I 
 am boasting ; smile and forgive me. 
 
 You will never grow old. You are ineffably gra- 
 cious. While Paris applauds and adores you, you con- 
 struct a little retreat in the depths of the country for 
 yourself alone, and you fashion a shady nook in your 
 glory. There are nests for souls as well as for birds. 
 At this moment your soul is in its nest. Be as happy 
 as you are great. 
 
 I close my letter in order to read yours again. I am 
 told that there are people who envy my book. I do 
 not doubt it ; I am one of them ; it has traveled with 
 you, I am jealous of it. 
 
 I kneel before you and I kiss your hands. 
 
186 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXVII. 
 
 To ALEXANDRE DUMAS. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 16th June, [1865]. 
 
 DEAR DUMAS, I have just read your letter in 
 the Presse. I read it without surprise. Nothing in 
 the way of bravery astonishes me from you; and in the 
 way of cowardice nothing astonishes me from these 
 people. You are the light ; the Empire is the dark- 
 ness ; it hates you, that is simple enough ; it wants to 
 extinguish you, that is not so simple. It will have its 
 trouble for nothing. The shadow which it will cast 
 upon you will only enhance your brightness. 
 
 A glorious incident for you, altogether, and honora- 
 ble for me, and one on which I congratulate our old 
 friendship. 
 
 LXVIII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 1th October, 1865. 
 
 I have been away and traveling about all the summer. 
 I am passing through Brussels for the marriage of my 
 son Charles, and am on the way back to my rock in 
 mid ocean. Paul Meurice has been speaking to me of 
 you, and I feel the need of writing to you. Will you 
 allow me to tell you that I am devotedly attached to 
 you ? There are moments in life when sympathy, 
 deeper and tenderer than ever, mingles with the ad- 
 miration inspired by a great mind. That is the feeling 
 which I send you ; that is the sort of respect which I 
 lay at your feet. 
 
TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 187 
 
 LXIX. 
 
 To THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 
 
 CASTLE GARY, 25th October, [1865]. 
 
 You answer my little familiar letters with splendid 
 public replies. I have just read in the Presse your 
 grand prologue to the Chansons des Hues et des Bois. 
 It is the nightingale heralding the lark. 
 
 Since you are good enough to take a liking to this 
 book beforehand, perhaps that will induce me to pub- 
 lish it. Your wish, dear poet, is a command to the 
 muse. 
 
 Nevertheless, the sky is sadly overcast for committing 
 this tiny bark to the winds and waves. I have my 
 doubts. 
 
 I saw in the papers that I had been away from 
 Guernsey two months ; it should have been three 
 months, and I am not back yet. I have been wander- 
 ing about here and there, as near as possible to the 
 French frontier. I have been in the museums and 
 among the mountains. I have often thought of you, 
 dear poet, in presence of the grandeur of nature and 
 the eternity of art. Nature and art are yours ; you 
 have the double lyre. 
 
 Yes, dear Banville, you are one of the fountain- 
 heads of poetry in our time ; and that is a glory, for 
 never has a great epoch had a more lofty poetry. In 
 that firmament, which is often dark but always pro- 
 found, you will rank among the stars of the first magni- 
 tude. You are an Aldebaran of art. 
 
188 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXX. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 28th November, 1865. 
 You have just written me an admirable letter in the 
 Avenir national. This article repays me for my book. 1 
 You are one of the great minds of France and of the 
 world, and, what is the most beautiful thing in exist- 
 ence, a mind made up of heart. It is the heart, the 
 large heart, which speaks in all that you utter, urbi et 
 orbi. Having every tenderness, you have the right to 
 promulgate every truth. There is something sublime 
 and touching in witnessing the reappearance, in our 
 century of doubt and strife, of the priestess in the 
 imposing figure of George Sand. At their best, your 
 ideas are heroic, because they are inspired by goodness. 
 Hence your power. What you say of life, of death, of 
 the grave, of the great gamut of souls on the lyre 
 of the infinite, of the never-ending ascents, of the radi- 
 ant transfigurations, all this, which you bring before 
 our eyes and into our thoughts, is true and pure, cour- 
 ageous to say, necessary to hear. A few minds, in 
 our day, obtain notoriety by means of negation ; affir- 
 mation is left to the great souls. You have the right 
 to the Yes. Use it. Use it for yourself and for all. 
 God has one proof among men, genius. You exist, 
 therefore He exists. I look on a profession of affirma- 
 tion as a service rendered to the human race, and 
 when it is written by you, it has a double light, glory 
 added to truth. You are sad, consoler ! That 
 enhances your greatness. Permit me to tell you that I 
 am deeply moved. 
 
 1 Les chansons des rues et des bois. 
 
TO PAUL DE SAINT-VICTOR. 189 
 
 LXXI. 
 
 To PAUL DE SALNT- VICTOR. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, KM December, 1865. 
 
 Solitude would be irksome without communion with 
 great minds. I seek them in the past, and they reply 
 to me ; I call them in the present, and they reply to 
 me there too. My books are the letters which I write 
 to them. You have just acknowledged receipt of Les 
 chansons des rues et des bois. 
 
 You have read this book, and you speak of it in 
 grand terms. You have the gift of defining art,in a 
 line and of writing a poem in a page. Your criticism 
 creates a picture, and there is a philosophy in your 
 eloquence. This is the rule, however ; there is no 
 exception to it ; splendor implies profundity. 
 
 This law is found in nature as well as in art. It 
 breaks forth in the sun and is reflected in Homer. In 
 my life on this rock amid the mist and the storm, my 
 mind has gradually become detached from everything 
 except the great manifestations of the conscience and 
 the intellect. I have never indulged in hatred, and I 
 am no longer moved by anger. I look only on the 
 bright side of human nature ; I grow wrathful only 
 against absolute evil, pitying those who do it or think 
 it. I have a profound faith in progress. Eclipses are 
 intervals of obscuration, and how can I doubt of the 
 return of liberty when each day that I wake I witness 
 the return of light ? 
 
 You, in this age which is too much inclined toward 
 matter, are a dispenser of the ideal. You render us 
 the immense service of making us understand the soul 
 
190 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 of the universe, demonstrated by the masterpieces of 
 art as well as by the marvels of the creation. You are 
 one of the luminaries of the true and the beautiful. 
 Every time that my name drops from your pen, I fancy 
 that I hear a rustle of glory. 
 
 LXXII. 
 
 To THE GONFALONIERE OF FLORENCE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 1st February, 1866. 
 
 SIR, To receive from the Gonfalpniere of Florence, 
 in the name of Italy, the jubilee medal of Dante, is an 
 immense honor, and I am deeply touched by it. In 
 your eyes my name is synonymous with France, and 
 you say as much in grand terms. Yes, in me, as in all 
 Frenchmen, there is something of the spirit of France, 
 and this spirit of France is in favor of enlightenment, 
 progress, peace, and liberty, and this spirit of France 
 desires the greatness of all peoples, and this spirit of 
 France has a sister in the spirit of Italy. 
 
 LXXIII. 
 
 To MME. RATTAZZI. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 21th February, 1866. 
 
 Alas ! madam, I appeal to your noble and charming 
 heart and to your generous mind : after the crime com- 
 mitted against Italy at Mentana, not by France, but 
 by the odious French government, I can only raise my 
 voice in Italy to demand Kome and hail the republic. 
 You will understand me, and you will approve of what 
 I do. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
TO HENRI DE PENE. 191 
 
 LXXIV. 
 
 To HENBI DE PENE, Manager of the Gaulois. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 27th February, 1866. 
 MY HONORABLE AND DEAR OLD FRIEND, I am 
 
 much touched by your excellent letter. It is a pleasure 
 to me to renew our friendly relations of former days. 
 Your offers are the most splendid that have ever been 
 made to a writer. I acknowledge your magnificence ; 
 but artistic considerations are paramount in my eyes, 
 and even the half a million of francs which you offer 
 me cannot overcome my scruples as an artist. I am 
 convinced that Les travailleurs de la mer cannot be 
 cut up into feuilletons. This mode of publication, ex- 
 cellent in itself and one which I am far from condemn- 
 ing, may perhaps suit Quatrevingt-treize, the book at 
 which I am working just now. 
 
 Your letter and telegram reached me only yesterday. 
 Our dear mutual friend Paul Meurice will explain to 
 you the isolation of Guernsey. I live a retired, serious 
 life here. 
 
 You will understand my reasons for declining your 
 superb and handsomely made offers, and you will thank 
 me for them. They spring entirely from my con- 
 science. It is the latter which, however much I may 
 regret it, forces me to turn my eyes away modestly from 
 the half million. Les travailleurs de la mer is to 
 appear in book form. When it is published, I am sure 
 you will agree with me. 
 
 My warmest thanks for your cordial proposal. 
 Allow me to put something of the future in the greet- 
 ing which I send you. 
 
192 ) THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXXV. 
 
 To PAUL DE SAINT-VICTOR. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 4*A April, 1866. 
 
 It would be worth while writing a book simply to get 
 an article 1 from you. brother of my mind, I greet 
 you and I thank you. When the building is finished, 
 it is you who plant the banner of light on the summit. 
 You add one creation to another ; you are the great 
 interpreter ; you write the poem on the poem, the 
 answer to the Sphinx, the cry from the great deep. 
 This grand criticism of yours is also a great phi- 
 losophy; it flashes across our age like a trail of light 
 through the darkness. You are one of the rescuers 
 of the ideal. This distinction will attach to your name. 
 
 What escapes from the sea does not escape from 
 woman ; that is the subject of the book, and how you 
 have understood it ! And how you make others under- 
 stand it ! To be loved, Gilliatt does everything, Ebe- 
 nezer nothing, and Ebenezer is the one who is loved. 
 Ebenezer has spiritual and physical beauty, and with 
 this twofold prestige, he has only to appear in order 
 to triumph. Gilliatt too has this double beauty, but 
 overlaid with the mask of frightful labor. His very 
 greatness causes his defeat. 
 
 I am indulging in a conversation with you. I have 
 just read your article, and it seems to me like a dialogue 
 begun. When shall I see you ? When will it be my 
 lot to press the hand which has written so many superb 
 and profound things, and which makes a masterpiece of 
 criticism ! 
 
 1 Saint- Victor's article on Les travailleurs de la mer. 
 
TO LOUIS BOULANGER. 193 
 
 Bear in mind that you are one of the props of the 
 solitary poet. A page written by you is like a cordial. 
 Between you and me there is a sort of mysterious inter- 
 course of the soul. You say to me : Courage ! and I 
 say to you : Thanks ! 
 
 I seem to see my two poles marked out by you in 
 your two articles on Les chansons des rues et des bois 
 and Les travailleurs de la mer. Nothing escapes your 
 powerful mind. You illumine the whole length and 
 breadth of a work, and your star, after having lighted 
 up the summit, reappears in the depths below. 
 
 LXXVI. 
 
 To Louis BOULANGER. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 9th April, 1866. 
 
 I am not absent, dear Louis, since I still keep my 
 place in your heart. 
 
 Your letter charms and moves me ; there is a flavor 
 of our youth in it. You still keep that youth. A 
 little child should have a young father, and your child 
 is six years old. This dawning life blends sweetly with 
 your own, and you have the radiance of it. Be happy. 
 I constantly have before me, in my poor exile's abode, 
 several powerful and striking works signed Louis Bou- 
 langer. I look at them and I meditate. Where are the 
 roses of last year ? You are still my beloved painter, 
 the companion that I miss, one of those sweet brothers 
 of the beginning, still more precious and more dear at 
 
 the end. 
 
 VOL. n. 13 
 
194 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 LXXVII. 
 
 To MARC FOURNTER. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 18th April, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUE, I am touched by your 
 obliging proposal. I recognize in it the talented writer 
 as well as the artist-manager. I hasten to reply to you. 
 To enable the drama l which I have written this winter 
 to be acted, a state of liberty would be necessary which 
 in France is granted to no one, and to me least of all. 
 I am therefore compelled to put it off. The drama, 
 however, is written for the stage, and entirely adapted 
 for scenic effect. But, while quite playable from an 
 artistic point of view, it is less so from the point of 
 view of the censure. I prefer to wait, and my play will 
 appear when liberty returns. 
 
 If, at that time, you are still good enough to remem- 
 ber me, we shall be able to resume this interrupted 
 negotiation. The Porte-Saint-Martin theatre, which 
 you so kindly call " my theatre," is dear to me, and 
 there is no stage on which I should be more glad to 
 reappear. 
 
 Accept, my dear and worthy colleague, with the ex- 
 pression of my present regret, the assurance of my 
 warm regard. 
 
 LXXVIII. 
 
 To M. CUVILLIER-FLEURY. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 30th April, 1866. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUE, I feel, in every way, so 
 utterly absent from the Academy that I cannot but be 
 
 1 Torquemada. 
 
TO M. LACAUSSADE. 195 
 
 touched whenever one of my colleagues is kind enough 
 to make believe that I still belong to it. Exile has 
 created the Academician in partibus ; I am that Aca- 
 demician. But exile has not been able to rob me of 
 my old memories and my old friendships. You know, 
 my dear and worthy colleague, the place which you 
 have in them. 
 
 There are, and I regret it, many points of disagree- 
 ment between us ; but we are agreed in this, that we 
 both have conscience for our guide and liberty for our 
 goal. 
 
 Conscience, liberty ; all the dignity of life resides in 
 those two words. We can, therefore, in the Academy 
 and everywhere else, exchange a cordial shake of the 
 hand. 
 
 LXXIX. 
 
 To M. LACAUSSADE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 30$ May, 1866. 
 
 I knew and highly appreciated the poet in you ; you 
 now reveal to me the critic. One is worthy of the 
 other. One feels that you are familiar with high art. 
 I have just read your fine and thoughtful article on 
 my lyric poetry. I am charmed, touched, and at times 
 moved to delight, by the lofty, philosophical, and ar- 
 tistic qualities you display in these few pages. 
 
 You possess the two qualities without which no mind 
 is complete, that is to say, sympathy with your age 
 and taste for all time ; you understand the nineteenth 
 century and you understand the ideal. Hence your 
 power as a critic and your penetration as an artist. 
 
 Taste is much talked about in these days, and those 
 
196 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 who talk the most about it are the people who have the 
 least of it; they are engrossed in a local transitory 
 taste, French taste in the seventeenth century, and 
 they cannot appreciate what I have just called taste for 
 all time. 
 
 Thus, in the name of Boileau they polish Horace, 
 and in the name of Kacine they deny JEschylus. To 
 bring literature back from this spurious taste to the 
 genuine taste, which embraces Aristophanes and Shake- 
 speare, Dante and Moliere, is the function of a mind 
 such as yours. Function is equivalent to mission, and 
 mission means the same as duty. 
 
 Continue your great work on the lines of the ideal. 
 I thank you for myself, and I applaud you for all. 
 
 LXXX. 
 
 To MlCHELET. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 27th May, [1866]. 
 
 . . . Your Louis XV. is one of your finest works. 
 This king was rotting in his grave. You appeared on 
 the scene as the resuscitator. You said to the corpse : 
 Stand up ! and you put within it its horrible soul. 
 Now it moves, and it makes one shudder. And along 
 with the reign, you have portrayed the age, the one 
 petty, the other great. The miasma of the past and 
 the breath of the future are in your book; hence its 
 warning and its encouragement, hence its lesson. 
 
 I thank you ; I am only a witness of the nineteenth 
 century. I will say 'this for myself, that I understand 
 all the works of this great age, in which your place is 
 such an exalted one. The sympathy which I feel for 
 my time, and for the men of my time, constitutes all 
 
TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 197 
 
 my pride and almost all my joy. Dear historian, dear 
 philosopher, I press your hand, and I hail your luminous 
 spirit. 
 
 LXXXI. 
 
 To THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 11 fh July, [1866]. 
 
 I have just read Gringoire. You have written an 
 exquisite work, intensely sad and intensely gay, like all 
 true comedy. It is the sob of the poet mingling with 
 the laugh of the philosopher. It is human destiny 
 emphasized by ideal art. Your Louis XI. makes one 
 shudder and smile ; and what a charming figure of a 
 woman between that spectre, the king, and that shadow, 
 the poet ! Your two ballads are beautiful and touch- 
 ing. I thank you, dear poet, for all the services which 
 you render to the ideal. Go on giving me the pleasure 
 of seeing you succeed. Thanks for my name side by 
 side with yours. 
 
 LXXXII. 
 
 To THE SAME. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 8tk August, [1866]. 
 
 Oh, my dear poet, what beautiful things, and what 
 charming things ! Not a page but sparkles ; not a word 
 which does not sing and think, for to sing is to think. 
 The Hymn is the Word. I have it, your book, this 
 living water, so dear to the heart of the wretched. 
 I drink of it, for I have suffered, and my mouth is 
 dry. I am thirsty. Honor to you, poets, irrigui 
 fontes ! 
 
 You yourself are one of the purest and most ex- 
 quisite of these springs ; your drops of water are pearls, 
 
198 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 and your pearls are tears, and your tears are my joy. 
 Of such stuff is the poet. It is with his grief that he 
 consoles. One touches one's wound and is healed. The 
 grand poetry of the nineteenth century, daughter of 
 the Revolution and of eternal liberty, encircles your 
 head with one of its finest wreaths. 
 
 I embrace you, sweet poet of poets, ideal exile, 
 friend of the Dantes and the Homers. You have every 
 fault of the swan ; you sing as he does, but you will 
 
 not die. 
 
 LXXXIII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAJST>. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 14$ August, 1866. 
 
 The echo of your fame still reaches me, although 
 having become a chronic recluse (which results in a sort 
 of deafness), I know nothing of what is going on. The 
 idea of your story, Un Don Juan de village, is a lofty 
 and profound one, like all that comes from your great 
 mind. The unchangeableness of the perennial essence 
 of human nature ; the heart everywhere the same ; the 
 corruption of the town accentuated by the roughness 
 of the country ; vice growing in the fields as well as on 
 the pavement ; a peasant Don Juan, all this bears 
 the stamp of that great truth which is also great origi- 
 nality. And this vice tamed by love, this tiger on the 
 back of which leaps the winged child, gentlest and 
 strongest of beast-tamers, here again is greatness in- 
 stinct with charm, greatness worthy of you. 
 
 I offer you my humble tribute of admiration. 
 
TO MME. CHENAY. 199 
 
 LXXXIV. 
 
 To FRANCIS COPPEE. 
 
 CHAUDFONTAINE, 29*A August, [1866]. 
 MY YOUNG AND CHARMING FELLOW-POET, 1 have 
 
 just arrived from Zealand, and your letter reaches me 
 at Chaudfontaine. Yes, yes, yes ; I wish to see you, 
 you and your two exceUent holiday companions. To 
 press the hand of three poets, to commune with three 
 esprits, is for me, an old recluse, a valuable opportu- 
 nity, and I do not want to miss it. Only I shall not be 
 at Brussels till the 15th. 
 
 We shall talk of you, of your fine book Le reliquaire, 
 of art, of the ideal, of all that we desire, of all that 
 we love. We shall mingle mind with mind, and your 
 youth will bring me joy, and my old age will invite you 
 to calm. 
 
 You will all three come, will you not, and dine with 
 me at Brussels on the 15th ? 
 
 LXXXV. 
 
 To MME. CnENAY. 1 
 
 CHAUDFONTAINE, 3d September, [1866]. 
 
 We received your letters safely, dear Julie. Just 
 now my wife can neither read nor write, but we are 
 around her, and we do duty for her eyes. I brought 
 her here because the country is a sort of green curtain. 
 The summer, a furnace everywhere, is a vapor-bath here. 
 One is not roasted ; one is melted. It is a milder pro- 
 cess. This steamy warmth and cool shade suit my wife. 
 She has a whole forest for a screen. 
 
 1 Mme. Victor Hugo's sister. 
 
200 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 We shall be in Brussels about the 10th of Septem- 
 ber, and, if the equinox does not object too strongly, 
 I hope to be in Guernsey by the end of September, if 
 not earlier. It is high time for me to set to work again. 
 We are all well here. As for me, my nightly spasms 
 have been troubling me a little again, but I do not men- 
 tion them to my family, as it would make them anxious, 
 and there is no cause for anxiety. A little timely fric- 
 tion makes the symptoms disappear. I send you love 
 from all who are mentioned in your letters, plus a pretty 
 little smile from Master George. Victor is at Spa. I 
 kiss you on both your cheeks, dear Julie. 
 
 LXXXVI. 
 
 To PAUL DE SAINT- VICTOR. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 20th January, 1867. 
 
 What a happy thought to put these articles together 
 in one volume ! Splendid articles, grand volume, hand- 
 ful of stars ! Your brilliant mind gives out an illumi- 
 nation. I thank you for this brightness. There is need 
 of it ; the night is upon us. 
 
 But, as you know, I am one of those who are not 
 troubled by the night. I am sure of the morrow ; in 
 truth, I do not believe in the night nor in death. I 
 believe only in the dawn. 
 
 I often wander along my paths by the seashore, 
 pensive, thinking of France, contemplating the horizon 
 without and the ideal within me. I sometimes take a 
 book. I have my breviaries. You have just given me 
 one. 
 
 The occasional mention of my name by your noble 
 pen gives me the illusion of glory. Old and solitary, 
 
TO MME. OCTAVE GIRAUD. 201 
 
 I open my hands before the fire of your thought and 
 warm myself at your luminous mind. 
 Tuus ex imo. 
 
 LXXXVII. 
 
 To MME. OCTAVE GIRAUD. 
 
 1867. 
 
 MADAM, You ask me, in terms which touch me 
 deeply, to help you with your reminiscences of your 
 husband. I can and I ought to do so. I am anxious 
 to give the testimony which you demand from me. 
 Yet it may be objected that I have never spoken to 
 M. Octave Giraud, or had his manuscript in my hands. 
 That is true, I never saw the man, but I know the 
 mind ; I never read the book, but I know the idea. 
 
 Besides, this idea, to a certain extent, comes from 
 me. One day M. Giraud did me the honor to consult me. 
 He had sent me some of his writings ; I was aware of 
 his knowledge, his intelligence, his travels, his studies 
 in the Antilles, his fine poetic gift, his value as a writer, 
 his significance as a philosopher. He said to me : 
 What ought I to do ? I replied : Write the history 
 of the black race. 
 
 The black race, what a subject! Till now the 
 white man only has spoken. The white man is the 
 master ; the time has come for allowing the slave to 
 speak. The white man is the tormentor ; the time has 
 come for hearing the victim. From the earliest ages, 
 on this globe which is still so full of darkness, two 
 faces confront each other and look dismally at each 
 other, the white and the black face. One represents 
 civilization, the other barbarism, barbarism in two 
 forms : willful barbarism, i. e., savagery, and barbarism 
 
202 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 under compulsion, i. e., slavery. One of these calami- 
 ties comes from nature, the other from civilization. 
 And here, let us proclaim it and denounce it, is the 
 .crime of the white man. 
 
 For six thousand years Cain has held the field. The 
 )lack man is subjected to frightful violence at the hands 
 of his brother. He suffers that long martyrdom called 
 servitude. He is killed in his intelligence, in his will, 
 n his soul. The human form which drags a chain is 
 >ut a semblance. The slave may live, but the man is 
 dead. What remains, what survives, is the brute, a 
 beast of burden as long as it obeys, a wild beast when 
 
 revolts. 
 
 The whole history of the white man, the only one 
 which has existed hitherto, is an enormous mass of 
 facts, of doings, of struggles, of advances, of catas- 
 trophes, of revolutions, of movements in every diree* 
 tion, of which the black man is the melancholy caryatid. 
 Slavery is the monstrous fact in history. 
 
 Underneath our civilization, such as it is, with its 
 magnificent deformities, its splendors, its trophies, its 
 triumphs, its flourishes of trumpets, its rejoicings, a cry 
 is heard. This cry rises from under our fetes. We 
 hear it through the marble of our temples and palaces. 
 This cry is slavery. What a mission and what a task, 
 to write the history of this cry ! 
 
 The proletariate in Europe, quite a different and no 
 less vast a question, is connected by some of its ramifi- 
 cations with slavery. But the human problem in Europe 
 is complicated by the social question, which imparts to 
 it a tremendous originality. It is the tragic new-born 
 child of modern fatality. In Africa, in Asia, in Amer- 
 
TO MME. OCTAVE GIRAUD. 203 
 
 ica, the situation, though not less heart-rending, is more 
 simple. Color stamps its unity on the outcast and on 
 the vanquished. The great funereal type is the negro. 
 The slave has the same countenance as the darkness. 
 
 To dispel this fatal darkness is the supreme effort 
 of civilization. We are on the brink of this victory. 
 America is well-nigh delivered from slavery. I have 
 said it more than once, and I like to indulge in the 
 hopeful thought, the time is drawing near when man 
 will be free. What are two colors under the same 
 sun ! what are two different shades, if on the pale face 
 and on the dark face there is the same morning light, 
 fraternity ! 
 
 Beneath all exteriors the soul is white. 
 
 The resurrection of the slave in liberty ! deliverance ! 
 reconciliation of Cain and Abel ! 
 
 That is the history to be written. The Black Kace 
 is the title ; the subject is slavery. 
 
 M. Giraud was worthy of this great undertaking. 
 To thoroughly sift and exhaustively scrutinize the ma- 
 terial it was necessary to have studied the slave and 
 slavery on the spot. M. Giraud had a considerable 
 advantage ; he had seen with his eyes. The slave had 
 said to him : Vide pedes, vide manus. Slavery is the 
 wound in the side of humanity. M. Giraud has put his 
 finger in that wound. 
 
 He took this book in hand; he almost completed it. 
 A short respite from death, and he would have finished 
 it. How melancholy are these interruptions ! 
 
 Such as it is, his work is considerable. The frag- 
 ments which have been published in the newspapers, 
 and which are known to all, have placed the history and 
 
204 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 the writer on a high pedestal. This poignant story has 
 the pathetic interest of a drama. There is no more 
 painful struggle, no more tragic contest. The whole 
 question at issue between the white man and the black 
 man is there. M. Giraud gives it to us with the cor- 
 roborating proofs. It is the brief against slavery made 
 up and almost completed. Now let us decide the case. 
 iThe sentence has been pronounced, we may say, by the 
 conscience of the world, and slavery is condemned, and 
 slavery is dead. 
 
 LXXXVIII. 
 
 To ALBERT CAiSE. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2,0th March, 1867. 
 
 . . . The point raised by the anonymous writer to 
 whom you refer admits of the simplest explanation. 
 These matters are of very slight importance, but what 
 is certain is that you are right, and that the anonymous 
 writer is not wrong. 
 
 The relationship to the Bishop of Ptolemais is a tra- 
 dition in my family. I never knew more than what my 
 father told me about it. M. Buzy, formerly a notary 
 at Epinal, sent me some documents of his own accord, 
 which are among my papers. 
 
 Personally I do not attach any importance to gene- 
 alogical questions. The man is what he is ; his value 
 is what he has done. Beyond this, all that is added 
 to or taken from him is nothing. Hence my absolute 
 contempt for genealogies. 
 
 1 M. Albert Caise had published a genealogy of Victor Hugo, in which 
 he assigned him the arms of the Hugos of Lorraine. An anonymous 
 writer discussed this in the Figaro, asking where Hugo, Bishop of Ptole- 
 mais, was to be placed in the genealogy. 
 
TO THE MICKIEWICZ COMMITTEE. 205 
 
 The Hugos from whom I am descended are, I believe, 
 a younger and possibly illegitimate branch, which had 
 come down in the world through poverty and misery. 
 A Hugo was a breaker-up of boats on the Moselle. 
 Mme. de Graffigny ( Franc, oise Hugo, wife of the cham- 
 berlain of Lorraine) addressed him as " my cousin." 
 The " wise and witty anonymous writer " is right ; there 
 were a shoemaker and a bishop, beggars and prelates, 
 in my family. This is more or less the case with 
 everybody. There are very curious instances of it in 
 the Channel Islands (see Les travailleurs de la mer, 
 Tangrouille). 
 
 In other words, I am not a Tangroville, I am a 
 Tangrouille. I have no objection. If I could choose 
 my forbears, I would rather have a hard-working cobbler 
 for an ancestor than a lazy king. 
 
 LXXXIX. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 21s* April, [1867]. 
 Yes, I suffer; yes, I hope. Your child has been 
 restored to you, mine will return ; I believe it, I know 
 it. Your tender and lofty letter would give me faith, if 
 I did not possess it. great soul, I take refuge in 
 you. The words which fall from your pinnacle of 
 glory are sweet as light itself. 
 Thanks. 
 
 xo. 
 To THE COMMITTEE FOR ERECTING A MONUMENT TO MICKIEWICZ. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, GUERNSEY, 17th May, 1867. 
 I am asked to say a few words over this illustrious 
 grave. . . . 
 
 1 After the death of Charles Hugo's first child. 
 
206 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 To speak of Mickiewicz is to speak of all that is 
 beautiful, just, and true ; it is to speak of the right of 
 which he was the champion, of the duty of which he 
 was the hero, of the liberty of which he was the apostle, 
 of the deliverance of which he is the forerunner. 
 
 Mickiewicz evoked all the ancient virtues which have 
 in them a rejuvenating power ; he was a priest of the 
 ideal ; his art is the great art ; his poetry is instinct 
 with the mighty breath of the sacred forests. And he 
 understood humanity as well as nature; through his 
 hymn to the infinite runs the holy throb of revolu- 
 tion. Banished, proscribed, vanquished, he proudly 
 flung to the four corners of the earth the lofty claims 
 of the fatherland. The reveille of peoples is the genius 
 which sounds it ; of old it was the prophet, now it is 
 the poet ; and Mickiewicz is one of the clarions of the 
 future. 
 
 There is life in such,a grave. 
 
 Immortality is in the poet, resurrection is in the 
 citizen. 
 
 One day the United Peoples of Europe will say to 
 Poland : Arise ! and his great soul will come forth 
 from this tomb. 
 
 Yes, Poland, that sublime spirit, lies there with the 
 poet. Hail to Mickiewicz ! Hail to the noble sleeper 
 who will awake ! He hears me, I know it, and he 
 understands me. He and I are two absent ones. If, 
 in my isolation and in my gloom, I have no crown to 
 bestow in the name of glory, I have the right to frater- 
 nize with a spirit in the name of misfortune. I am 
 not the voice of France, but I am the cry of exile. 
 
TO M. CHAMPFLEURY. 207 
 
 XCI. 
 
 To CHAMPFLEURT. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 5th August, 1867. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUE, Wanderers and absentees 
 miss a great deal. Living in Guernsey, traveling to 
 Brussels, crossing the sea twice, all this accounts for 
 my not reading your Belle Paule, which was published 
 in May, until July. 
 
 I come to the point at once. I like the book. I like 
 it because it is true and profound, because it despises 
 petty artifices, because it goes straight to the great goal 
 of art, the creation of types by means of observation 
 and intuition, because it is written in a charming style, 
 because it is dedicated to me and composed for all, 
 an extension which doubles the honor of the dedica- 
 tion. Yes, for all. A day will come when, thanks to 
 the universal character of education, thanks to the 
 advent of broad daylight in men's minds, works of art 
 will be essentially popular. The people has at bottom 
 a refined taste. It likes poets, it demands the ideal, 
 it prefers a heavenly luminary to a Chinese lantern. 
 Writers of your stamp have a lofty function to dis- 
 charge towards it. Vulgar is not the same as popular. 
 And not being vulgar is a reason for being popular. 
 There is a fine apprehension and a stern will in the 
 people. That is also the basis of the artist. So con- 
 tinue. Success supplies the inducement, talent creates 
 the obligation. 
 
 Your story is life and truth from one end to the 
 other. It is what you have observed, what you have 
 seen ; it is real ; at the same time, nature is everywhere 
 set off by art ; hence, a book ! 
 
208 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XCII. 
 
 To M. CHASSAGNAC, Grand Commander of the Rite Ecossais in 
 
 Louisiana. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 16$ August, 1867. 
 
 You are right, dear sir ; although not a Freemason 
 in name, I am one in heart. My Freemasonry is loftier 
 than yours, it is humanity. 
 
 You wish, in your nobility of mind and heart, to 
 admit black men into your ranks, and you are right ; 
 I wish for the peaceful transformation of the prince 
 into the man, and of the king into the citizen. Time is 
 required for this. Be it so ; God has no lack of it. 
 
 In the mean while, not being able to associate with 
 the princes whom you admit, I am prohibited from join- 
 ing you. But I appreciate your lofty aim and your 
 splendid fraternity, symbol of the great fraternity of 
 the future. 
 
 I thank you for having informed me of the great and 
 serious step in advance which you have just taken ; the 
 admission of black men among you is the beginning of 
 equality, which the exclusion of princes will complete. 
 
 xcm. 
 
 To THE REVOLUTIONARY COMMITTEE OF PORTO Rico. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 24$ November, 1867. 
 
 The Republic of Porto Rico has fought bravely foi 
 its liberty. The revolutionary committee acquaints me 
 of this, and I thank it for doing so. Spain turn< 
 out of America! that is the great aim; that is th< 
 great duty for Americans. Cuba free like St. Do- 
 mingo. I applaud all these great efforts. 
 
TO THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 209 
 
 The liberty of the world is made up of the liberty of 
 each people. 
 
 xciv. 
 
 To ALFRED SiRVEN. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 8th December, 1867. 
 
 Of all prisons, the one which I know the best is exile. 
 I have been turning in that cage for nearly sixteen 
 years. 
 
 I know Sainte-Pelagie from the outside only. As a 
 child, I played in the Jardin des Plantes. I used to go 
 to the top of the maze, and I saw a large flat roof, on 
 which was a sentry-box, and a soldier strolling up and 
 down, with a gun in his hand. My mother said to me : 
 " It is a prison ! " 
 
 A prison can be very large. A flat thing, on which 
 a soldier walks about, describes the Europe of to-day. 
 
 Later on, I heard about the interior of Sainte-Pelagie 
 from two old friends of mine, Beranger and Lamennais. 
 Beranger wrote to me shortly before his death : " I 
 began with imprisonment, and you end with exile." 
 And I replied to him : " All is for the best ! Let us 
 hope ! The future is a dawn." 
 
 xcv. 
 To THEODORE DE BANVILLE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 20th December, [1867], 
 You are an exquisite poet and a charming friend. 
 Do not be afraid, the variations of the magnetic needle 
 called fashion are meaningless ; they govern only the 
 Scribe drama and Feuillet literature. Where you are, 
 is taste ; where you are, is art. 
 
 1 In reply to a request for information about the prison of Sainte- 
 P&agie. 
 
 VOL. n. 14 
 
210 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Your exquisite, your beautiful odes in the Charivari 
 appeal to La voix de Guernesey. Here it is. You 
 will find it in a separate envelope. My echo answers 
 you: 
 
 " Echo n'est plus un son qui dans Tart retentisse, 
 C'est une voix qui dit : Droit, Liberte, Justice." 
 
 I have corrected for you, in the copy which I am 
 sending, a wrong rhyme, ennemis, amis, which is in 
 Voltaire, which quite condemns it. This rhyme comes 
 from a mistake of the copyist, who substituted an 
 erased line for the right one. Give me absolution. 
 
 Who on earth could have told you that I never put 
 the names of my friends in my verses ? Some day you 
 may find out the contrary to your cost. You may take 
 this threat as a promise. 
 
 Is there no chance of your coming to see my ocean? 
 Just now it is terrible, but sublime. If you are not 
 afraid of its wrath, come and spend a month or two 
 with me. You will have a poor lodging, but will be 
 well taken care of. 
 
 xcvi. 
 
 To ALFRED ASSELINE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 22d December, 1867. 
 
 MY DEAR ALFRED, I have received your charming 
 letter, and have looked carefully in the pockets of the 
 pair of trousers. Kesult, nothing ! nothing ! nothing ! 
 (Desmousseaux de Civre *). It is as empty as the noddle 
 of an Academician. I am like Margaret of Savoy, a 
 widow before the wedding. I am lamenting my loss. 
 
 It is probable that in packing the trousers they 
 
 1 A deputy in the reign of Louis Philippe, who addressed Guizot as 
 follows : " Qu'avez-vous fait ? Rien ! rien ! rien ! A 
 

 TO FRANCOIS COPPEE. 211 
 
 dropped the little case, which was in the fob. Do have 
 a good search made. 
 
 But the case alone is not enough for me ; we want 
 your wife and you. Can't you manage to come to 
 Guernsey for a time ? Unfortunately I have no suit- 
 able apartment for Mme. Asseline, but a place at table 
 morning and evening, castanece molles, this is what I 
 offer you. 
 
 Give my respects to your wife into the bargain, and 
 be jealous. 
 
 12 p. M. Latest news. As I was about to close 
 this letter the post arrived, and a little box with a 
 stamp is brought me ; it is the case ! I open it and 
 am lost in admiration. Nothing could be more charm- 
 ing. It is a perfect gem. It is historical and fanciful. 
 Thanks, dear poet, for this pretty thing. 
 
 Very latest. A lot of people in my house for the 
 poor children's Christmas entertainment. A number 
 of charming women. Your delightful case has been 
 handed round. Universal admiration. Strange to say, 
 it has not been stolen. 
 
 XCVII. 
 
 To FRAN9OIS COPPEE. 
 
 HAUTE VILLE HOUSE, 5th January, [1868]. 
 
 Just as I was sending you my angry poetry, you 
 were forwarding me your charming poetry. La voix 
 de Guernesey met your sweet idyl of the soldier and 
 the servant girl on the road. My lightning crossed 
 your sunbeam. 
 
212 
 
 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Power of the poet ! Here are the private soldier 
 and the nursemaid transfigured. They will no longer 
 be laughed at. What an elegy you have managed to 
 extract from these hitherto grotesque figures. Melan- 
 cholia. We always have to revert to the great alle- 
 gorical bat of Albert Diirer. Melancholy is our back- 
 ground. Life is enacted in front ; God is behind. 
 Let us hope. 
 
 Will you forward the inclosed to M. Paul Verlaine, 
 your friend and mine ? 
 
 xcvm. 
 
 To TH^OPHILE GATJTIER. 
 
 HAUTEVILLK HOUSE, 29th April, 1868. 
 
 DEAR TH^OPHILE, I have just read your splendid 
 article on La legende des siecles. I am more than 
 touched by it ; I am deeply moved. So sweet voices 
 still reach me in my solitude. Our youthful attach- 
 ment has become an old friendship. The great gulf 
 between us does not prevent your glance from seeking 
 mine and my hand from pressing yours. You give me 
 one of your wreaths, you who have the right to all. 
 As a poet, you are a spokesman of the ideal; as a 
 critic, you are a spokesman of glory. 
 
 Why has a kurel grown on this spot? Because 
 Petrarch once spoke there. 
 
 What was said of Petrarch will be said of you. 
 
 Where your criticism casts its seed, the laurel will 
 spring up. 
 
TO AUGUSTE VACQUERIE. 213 
 
 XCIX. 
 
 To MME. CHENAY. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 27th August, 7 A. M., [1868]. 
 
 MY POOR JULIE, Your sister is dead. This be- 
 loved creature has left us. 
 
 On the 24th she was in perfect health, she was 
 driving about Brussels with us in excellent spirits. 
 The day before yesterday, the 25th, she had an attack ; 
 yesterday, the 26th, Dr. Allix, who had been sum- 
 moned by telegraph, arrived. There was a consulta- 
 tion of the doctors ; in the evening, a little hope ; this 
 morning, at half past six, she passed away. I am 
 broken-heartedo God will receive this gentle and lofty 
 soul into light. She now has wings. We are in tears. 
 I am overwhelmed with grief. 
 
 I send you my fond love, my dearest sister, as do all 
 of us. Alas ! your tears will flow as well as ours. 
 
 c. 
 
 To AUGUSTE VACQUERIE. 
 
 1st September, 1868. 
 
 You are admirable as you always are, and you have 
 done everything well. Thank your family, which so 
 many pleasing and painful points of contact have made 
 mine as well. I have had five sleepless nights ; my eyes 
 are all sore. Meurice's exquisite letter has relieved 
 them by making my tears flow. All that you mention 
 shall be done. Glory will soon be yours ; that will con- 
 sole me. I am deeply attached to you. 
 
 As soon as you have received this letter, go and press 
 your lips to the three graves for me. 
 
214 THE LETTERS .OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 CI. 
 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 1st September, [1868]. 
 
 Meurice, my gentle and noble friend, I have read 
 your touching farewell to the dear lost one, and my 
 tears break forth afresh. They had stopped and were 
 choking me. 
 
 You make me weep. Thanks. 
 
 on. 
 
 To VICTOR PAVTE. 
 
 3d September, [1868]. 
 
 I am broken-hearted ; I feel that you still love me 
 a little ; I hear your voice as the voice of my past and 
 of my youth, a sweet and solemn appeal. I am old. 
 I shall soon go to join the great soul which has just 
 departed. 
 
 cm. 
 
 To THEODORE DE BANTILLE. 
 
 3d September, [1868]. 
 
 DEAR, GENTLE POET, You know how to give fit- 
 ting and lofty consolation. I suffer, and your message 
 makes me feel that I am loved, and that I still live. 
 
 civ. 
 
 To G. MARGIN, Editor of the Phare de la Loire. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, ISth November, 1868. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUE, Do you really want the 
 information ? Here is the truth about my supposed 
 income of 78,000 francs. I am quite ready to talk 
 about my affairs to a friend like you. 
 
TO G. MARGIN. 215 
 
 After all the losses entailed by exile, the following 
 was my position at the end of August last, when j&e 
 accounts to which your correspondent refers were sent 
 in. I have : 
 
 Francs. 
 
 Istly in Belgium, 300 shares in the National Bank, 
 
 fluctuating income, at most 35,000 
 
 2dly in England, I shall have next April (investment 
 of proceeds of my recent works) in English consols, 
 425,000 francs, income 12,500 
 
 3dly in France, allowance from the Institute . . . 1,000 
 
 4thly Hauteville House ; lodging, no income ; I pay 
 rent at Brussels. 
 
 48,500 
 
 In consequence of family arrangements which have 
 had to be made I have to pay out of these 48,500 a 
 yearly sum of 29,500 
 
 In addition to this I spend every year, on various 
 charitable objects, especially on a small charitable 
 institution for children which I have started, about 
 (minimum) 7,000 
 
 36,500 
 
 which, subtracted from the 48,500, leave me an income 
 of my own of 12,000 francs ; as I have children, I 
 consider myself entitled to a life interest only. 
 
 All this is confidential and does not require publicity, 
 for nothing in this little statement can interest the 
 public. But I am anxious to give information to a 
 high-minded and sympathetic man like you; when 
 opportunity offers, you will remember this letter, and 
 when you see me calumniated, you will know the truth. 
 That is enough for me. In public I prefer silence on 
 such matters. 
 
216 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 One word more. Your correspondent is right if he 
 meant that I had an income o 78,000 francs (and even 
 more) out of the receipts from my plays ; this is per- 
 fectly true, only my plays are not acted now. All this 
 between ourselves. 
 
 cv. 
 
 To FRANQOIS MORAND, Judge at Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 22d November, 1868. 
 
 I answer your question, dear sir, for you are witty, 
 learned, and charming (I refer here to literature only). 
 No, I did not know L'Arlequin of Le Sage, and I have 
 been delighted to make acquaintance with it through 
 you. The resemblances which you point out to me are 
 very real. The result for me is the inward satisfaction, 
 because my conscience confirms it, of having fortui- 
 tously used the same expressions as the great writer 
 who created Gil Bias. 
 
 May I tell you of another coincidence of which I 
 was still more proud ? It was in 1823. Lamennais, 
 who had been my confessor (which of us two perverted 
 the other ?), came to see me one morning. I was writ- 
 ing some lines which I had just composed. Lamen- 
 nais looked over my shoulder and read the following : 
 
 " Ephdmere histrion qui salt son role a peine, 
 Chaque homme ivre d'audace ou palpitant d'effroi, 
 Sous le say on du patre ou la robe du roi, 
 Vient passer, a son tour, son heure sur la scene." 
 
 " Hullo ! " he said, " do you know English ? " I 
 replied : " No " (I do not know English even now). 
 And I added : " Why ? " " Because," replied Lamen- 
 nais, " you have just written a line of Shakespeare." 
 
TO FRANCOIS MORAND. 217 
 
 "Bah!" "Have you read Shakespeare?" "No, 
 I don't want to read Le Tourneur." " Well," said 
 Lamennais (my ex-confessor, who knew that I was 
 speaking the truth), " you are both authors of the line. 
 You have hit on the same idea as Shakespeare." And 
 he quoted a line from Macbeth, with the same compari- 
 son as mine and almost the same words : each man in 
 turn spends his hour upon the stage. 1 
 
 Now decide, my dear judge. 
 
 A word about a more serious matter in your com- 
 munication. 
 
 I had as little to do with M. Granier de Cassagnac's 
 article (1833) on Alexandre Dumas as yourself. Head 
 the declaration of M. Bertin the elder, in the Journal 
 des Deb at s. Bead the declaration of M. Granier de 
 Cassagnac, which he would confirm even to-day, I am 
 sure, although we are as wide apart as the poles. 
 
 Do you want my word of honor about this ? I give 
 it to you. If you knew me well, you would not 
 need it. 
 
 And I press your hand, and I thank you for having 
 made me acqiiainted with Le Sage's Serendib and 
 L'Arlequin. In politics, I would take exception to you; 
 but in literary matters I accept you, my most amiable 
 judge, my courteous colleague. 
 
 1 " Life 's but a walking shadow ; a poor player, 
 That struts and frets his hour upon the stage." 
 
 
218 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 CVI. 
 
 To M. D'ALTON-SH^E. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 8th December, 1868. 
 
 I look on your Memoirs, my dear d' Alt on, as mes- 
 sages from your noble mind. Once more thanks, and 
 once more bravo to these hearty and sturdy pages. 
 
 On the fortifications of Paris my view is as follows : 
 / would not have built them, but I would not destroy 
 them. They should not be pulled down till the mor- 
 row of the day when Europe will be proclaimed a 
 republic in its parliament, sitting in the meeting-place 
 of the Federation of Paris. Then all barriers will fall 
 and all hearts will open. You, my dear d' Alton, will 
 belong to that parliament ; I, too, perhaps, if I am 
 not dead. 
 
 I have a long-standing and deep sympathy with 
 you. You are a citizen with a gentleman's pride and a 
 nobleman's dignity. Your mind is lofty because it is 
 free. You are fraternal with all, and in your old age, 
 if need be, paternal. You commend yourself to my 
 exile. You and I are the only two republican peers. 
 I feel as if you were a sort of brother to me. I am 
 your senior in age only ; for you had understood and 
 wished for the Kepublic before me. My belated logic 
 reached it some time after yours. Armand Carrel had 
 a good deal to do with this delay. If it were worth 
 while to make a reproach out of it, the responsibility 
 would lie with him. 
 
 I reply to your question. I heard of my appoint- 
 ment to the peerage on the 16th of April, 1845. 
 Twenty years before, to a day, I had heard, almost in 
 
TO JULES CLAKETIE. 219 
 
 the same way, that I was decorated. I note this only 
 because Lamartine and I were made members of the 
 Legion of Honor on the same day (16th of April, 
 1825), no one else being appointed at the time. 
 
 cvn. 
 
 To JULES CLAKETIE. 1 
 
 31st December, 1868. 
 
 ... It is eZ Puente de los Contrdbandistas. I saw 
 it in the Pyrenees, when I was a child. The Smug- 
 glers' Bridge was a terrible thing. It was used as a 
 bridge by smugglers and as a gallows by justice. They 
 were hung to the beams. That did not prevent them 
 from continuing to pass over it. The bridge was also 
 described as follows : 
 
 ON MARCHE DESSUS, 
 ON DAN8E DESSOU8. 
 
 I quoted, in the Dernier jour d'un condamnfi, the 
 melancholy lines : 
 
 " Je lui f erai donner la danse 
 Oil il n'y a pas de plancher." 
 
 This dismal dance is what I am sending you. For- 
 give me. It is repulsive, but useful. The execution- 
 ers must have their work brought under their noses. 
 So let us show up the horrors of the past. 
 
 The present is not much more attractive. But what 
 a Morrow you will have, you who are young ! / shall 
 be dead. 
 
 1 Sending him a drawing. 
 
220 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 CVIII. 
 
 To MME. RATTAZZI. 
 
 1st January, 1869. 
 
 What can I say? I am dazzled, intoxicated, over- 
 whelmed. Your tender friendship gives me a glimpse 
 of paradise, and I cannot enter it ; I am bound and 
 sentenced by my own line. 
 
 " Revenir sur ses pas k la porte du ciel ! " 
 
 I wrote that and I am under its orders. This winter 
 they thought I was very ill ; the doctors told me that I 
 must make a rapid journey across France and go to 
 Nice. I replied : I have made an oath, I cannot put 
 foot in France ; I would sooner die first ! But it is 
 much easier to die than to resist you. When I think 
 that she is there, facing me, she who unites all, she 
 who combines beauty, grace, courage, commanding 
 and bewitching intelligence, brilliant acquirements, deep 
 poetry, and that she says to me : Come ! and in such 
 affecting and enchanting terms ! oh ! not to obey, 
 not to come, not to hasten to the spot, not to trample 
 on the frontier, were it red-hot iron, and on the oath, 
 were it writ in brass, do you know, madam, that that 
 is a superhuman effort, and that I am almost prostrated 
 by it ! What ! it is you who send me this flower ! it is 
 you who have written these lines ! they were composed 
 by you, they are destined for me, on your lips plays 
 that angelic smile in which I fancy I see the birth of 
 a star. That heavenly smile will welcome me. And 
 I stay where I am ! Alas ! try to fathom the depth 
 of this regret. What a stern thing sometimes is duty ! 
 I wrote this : 
 
TO MME. RATTAZZI. 221 
 
 " Et s'il n'en reste qu'tm, je serai celui-la ! " 
 
 France is closed to me, and France, when you are 
 not there, is the fatherland, and when you are there, is 
 paradise. 
 
 You write to me also these words, which issue from 
 your heart like a ray of light : " I shall not feel quite 
 settled in Paris, and glad to be there, until you are 
 there, too. What nice talks we shall have ! And how 
 softly and poetically the time will glide by." I read 
 these adorable lines, these still more adorable plans, 
 over and over again, and my hand trembles. Does 
 your youth reflect on my years ? Am I ^Eschylus, to 
 be the chosen friend, as you say, in spite of my gray 
 hairs, of queen Khodope, of the dazzling Rhodope, who 
 was alike the genius and the sovereign of Acragas, and 
 who was of the blood of Zeus as you are of the blood 
 of Napoleon ? She preferred the aged ^Eschylus, who, 
 like her, was a genius, to the young Hieron, who was 
 a sovereign like her. But I, am I ^Eschylus, and would 
 it not be better that you should not see me again ? 
 
 This letter which I am writing distresses me deeply, 
 but I feel that it will not vex you, that it will even 
 please you. I -know your lofty character too well to 
 doubt for a moment of your approval of my painful 
 sacrifice. A bitter sacrifice ! but you are capable of 
 understanding as well as of inspiring every act of hero- 
 ism, and I declare, I am a hero to-day, to-day for the 
 first time. Resist you, great Heavens ! all that I have 
 done hitherto is as nothing compared with what I am 
 doing now ; but since you are my friend, since your 
 regard has a place in my life, I ought to remain worthy 
 of this celestial friendship. 
 
222 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 To hide myself, to creep into France, even for the 
 purpose of seeing you, of obeying you, to crouch un- 
 easily under the eye of the police, to lower myself in 
 the sight of your cousin and your persecutor, even for 
 the sake of basking once more in your sunlight, of 
 entering into your heaven, this I must not do. You 
 are my best friend, nay brave friend, you are attached 
 to me, therefore you approve my decision. 
 
 I keep your letter indelibly engraven on my heart. 
 I was away when it arrived, and I have just found it on 
 my return, and I write to you in deep emotion, for I 
 fancy that it is your angelic soul which has just exhaled 
 from the flower to which I have pressed my lips. 
 
 cix. 
 
 To M. COELLOPOITLO. 
 
 12th January, [1869]. 
 
 Your eloquent letter has touched me deeply. Yes, 
 you are right in counting upon me as a writer and as a 
 citizen. The little that I am and the little that I can 
 do is at the service of your noble cause. 
 
 The cause of Crete is that of Greece, and the cause 
 
 Greece is that of Europe. These connections escape 
 the notice of kings and are nevertheless the height of 
 logic. Diplomacy is simply the stratagems of princes 
 against the logic of God. But in the end God prevails. 
 God and right are synonymous. 
 
 I am but a single voice, stubborn, but lost in the 
 triumphal tumult of reigning iniquity. What matter ! 
 listened to or not, I shall go on. You tell me that 
 Crete asks me for what Spain has asked of me. Alas ! 
 I can but utter a cry. For Crete I have already done 
 so ; I will do it again. 
 
TO FRANCOIS COPPEE. 223 
 
 I belong to Greece as much as to France. I am 
 ready to give my stanzas for Greece like Tyrtseus, and 
 my blood like Byron. Your sacred country has my 
 deepest love. I think of Athens as one thinks of the 
 sun. 
 
 ex. 
 
 To FRANQOIS COFFEE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 30th January, 1869. 
 
 You send me your work, but public rumor had 
 already told me of your success. It was more than an 
 echo of rejoicing, it was an echo of glory. Paris has 
 hailed you a poet. My dear and charming colleague, I 
 have read your Passant. I am delighted. It is excel- 
 lent versification, strong and tender thought, the total 
 effect exquisite. 
 
 You have harmoniously brought the moon into the 
 landscape and melancholy into the poem, an atmo- 
 sphere which makes the thinker meditate. 
 
 To write a work like this is admirable ; to achieve 
 such a success is perfect. Our generous youth has 
 understood you. You are a priest of the true and 
 great art; the rising generation applauds you, and I 
 cry out to you, Thanks ! and to them, Bravo ! 
 
 CXI. 
 
 To MME. CESSIAT DE LAMARTEsrE. 1 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 10th March, 1869. 
 
 Since the year 1821 I have been warmly attached to 
 Lamartine. This friendship of fifty years now under- 
 goes the momentary eclipse of death. I did not like, 
 just at first, to intrude on your sorrow with my sym- 
 
 1 On the death of Lamartine. 
 
224 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 pathy ; but at the present moment you will allow me, 
 will you not, to communicate to you to you who were 
 connected with him by blood, who loved him and were 
 loved by him my profound grief. Every form of 
 glory, from popularity to immortality, belongs to Lamar- 
 tine, luminous poet, powerful and immortal orator. He 
 seems dead to us, he is not really so. Lamartine has 
 not ceased to give forth his light. Henceforth he 
 shines with a twofold radiance : in our literature as a 
 genius, and in the great unknown life as a star. 
 
 cxn. 
 
 To VICTORIEN SARDOU. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 31s/ March, [1869]. 
 
 MY DEAR COLLEAGUE, You have written my son 
 Charles a letter which touches and moves me. In the 
 blaze of your dazzling success, you bestow a thought on 
 a recluse, twice banished, yesterday exiled from France, 
 to-day exiled from the stage. I thank you from the 
 bottom of my heart. 
 
 Your triumphant work, Patrie, rekindles lofty senti- 
 ments and proud thoughts, and you, at any rate, are 
 entitled to say to the spectators whose republicanism 
 you have just reinvigorated : Plaudite cives ! 
 
 CXIII. 
 
 To MME. CHENAT. 
 
 LONDON, Sunday the 23d [May, 1869]. 
 
 MY DEAR LITTLE SISTER, Your letters are as nice 
 as yourself. I am a lazy old brute, which accounts 
 for my not having duly replied to you. To-day I do 
 better than this, I am on my way home. However, a 
 
TO SWINBURNE. 225 
 
 strong southwesterly gale is blowing, and we shall not 
 be able to land in Guernsey till the 26th (Wednes- 
 day). 
 
 You may prepare for that occasion the various tri- 
 umphal arches you have in stock, the addresses, the 
 keys of Hauteville on a massive golden salver, the pro- 
 found obeisances of the cat and her kitten, and the 
 Latin verses which I beg you to write in my honor. 
 
 I hope the wind will go down. The crossing from 
 Ostend, very good for the first four hours, was awful 
 at the end. I kiss you on your two nice cheeks. 
 
 CX1V. 
 
 To SWINBURNE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 14th July, [1869]. 
 The great date. 
 
 DEAR AND CORDIAL POET, I was deeply touched 
 by your letter and your article. 
 
 You are right : you, Byron, and Shelley, three aris- 
 tocrats, three republicans. And I, it is from aristo- 
 cracy that I have risen to democracy, it is from the 
 peerage that I have arrived at the Republic, as one 
 passes from a river to the ocean. These are striking 
 phenomena. Nothing is so significant as these victories 
 of the truth. 
 
 Thanks, ex imo corde, for your splendid article 
 on my book. 1 What lofty philosophy, what profound 
 intuition you have ! In the great critic, one feels the 
 great poet. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 1 L'homme qui rit. 
 VOL. H. 15 
 
226 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 CXV. 
 
 To L. HUGONNET. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 24th August, 1869. 
 
 I have been very slow, dear sir, in replying to you. 
 It is not my fault. I live in a vortex, a strange thing 
 for a recluse. No leisure. Not a moment to myself. 
 But I was anxious to read your paper ; it is excellent. 
 Yes, you are right, France is for Africa what England 
 is for Asia, a bad guardian. To teach barbarism the 
 rudiments of civilization is the duty and the right of 
 older peoples. This right and this duty are not better 
 understood by the French government than by the Eng- 
 lish government. Hence your complaints, in which I 
 join. 
 
 When the Kepublic returns, justice will return. The 
 real light of France will shine in Africa. Let us hope. 
 Let us wait. Let us struggle on. 
 
 You are a young and noble mind. Your generation, 
 somewhat belated, will end by doing great things, in 
 which you will share. I congratulate you beforehand, 
 /shall be dead. I shall bequeath to you all my spirit. 
 
 CXVI. 
 
 To FRAxgois COPPEE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 10th January, 1870. 
 
 MY YOUNG AND DEAR FELLOW-POET, I have re- 
 ceived, from you I believe, your fine poem Les for- 
 gerons. Qua philosopher and democrat, I am unable 
 to accept the standpoint ; but qua poet, I applaud, to- 
 gether with the delighted public, all these firm, vigor- 
 ous, and pathetic lines. 
 
TO EDGAR QUINET. 227 
 
 Go on with your great successes; you will end, I 
 hope, by turning altogether, like myself, towards the 
 people. The truth lies in that direction. 
 
 As for beauty, you know where to find it. 
 
 CXVII. 
 
 To HENRI KOCHEFORT. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 10$ February, 1870. 
 
 I have written to you several times ; I doubt whether 
 my letters have reached you. I make this one small 
 so that it may arrive at its destination. Being after 
 the image of the Empire, it will pass unobserved, I 
 hope. 
 
 You are now in prison ; I congratulate the Kevolu- 
 tion. Your popularity is as unbounded as your talent 
 and your courage. All that you have foretold is com- 
 ing to pass. Henceforth you are one of the forces of 
 the future. 
 
 I am, as ever, your sincere friend, and I press your 
 hand, dear prisoner, dear conqueror. 
 
 CXVIII. 
 
 To EDGAR QUINET. 
 
 26th February, 1870. 
 
 Old age is the age of adding up, for thoughts as well 
 as for years, for the mind as well as for life. Only the 
 total of years is overwhelming, the total of thoughts 
 is sustaining. Hence the result that, while the body 
 decays, the mind expands. There is a sort of dawn 
 within it. 
 
 This mysterious rejuvenation, of which, like you, I 
 am aware, this doubling of the moral and intellectual 
 
228 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 forces while the material force is sinking, this growth 
 in decay, what a magnificent proof it is of the soul ! 
 The enfeebled cerebral matter gives forth a more vig- 
 orous thought. Of the two beings, the one organic, 
 the other essential, which make up the man, the first 
 crumbles away, the second breaks its bonds. The mind 
 sees the grave and feels the spring. It creates up to 
 the last moment sublime promise of the great un- 
 known life which it is about to enter. Its span aug- 
 ments. The process resembles an unfolding of the 
 wings. 
 
 CXIX. 
 
 To PAUL VERLAINE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 16U April, 1870. 
 
 No one is a poet if he is not so in both kinds, which 
 are Force and Grace. I have always fancied that this 
 was the meaning of the twin peaks of Parnassus. You 
 are capable, my young fellow-poet, of flitting from one 
 summit to the other. After Les fetes galantes, a 
 charming book, you will give us Les vaincus, a sturdy 
 book. 
 
 Your noble mind is full of promise. Emotion, tears, 
 sympathy, this is the point which your young and lofty 
 talent will reach, after so much admirable poetry. To 
 be inspired is a fine thing ; to be moved is great. 
 
 You know that I told you your fortune at Brussels 
 and said that this would be your future. You are one 
 of the first, one of the most attractive, one of the 
 strongest, in the new sacred legion of poets which I 
 hail and which I love, I the dreamy old dweller in the 
 wilderness. 
 
 What a number of delicate and ingenious things in 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 229 
 
 that pretty little book, Les fetes galantes ! " These 
 shells of the seashore ! " What a gem the last line 
 is ! I send you my best wishes for success, and a cor- 
 dial shake of the hand. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 exx. 
 
 To M. D'ALTON-SHEE. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 2d August, 1870. 
 
 MY DEAR D' ALTON, I quite agree with you. A 
 solution must be found. At a given moment civiliza- 
 tion, with revolution for its mouthpiece, must stop the 
 combatants. I wish to see France have the Rhine, be- 
 cause it is necessary to form, both materially and intel- 
 lectually, as strong a French group as possible, to make 
 head against the German group in the parliament of 
 the United States of Europe, and impose the French 
 language on the European federation. 
 
 The United States of Europe speaking German 
 would mean a delay of three hundred years. A delay, 
 that is to say, a step backward. When I see you, I 
 will develop this idea. But nothing through Bona- 
 parte ! nothing from this frightful war ! 
 
 cxxi. 
 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, I9th August, 1870. 
 
 DEAR MEURICE, I am sending you this telegram : 
 " I am returning as a national guard of Paris. I shall 
 arrive on the 21st of August." But I am told that 
 you will not get it, so I write to you as well. Your 
 letter arrived at Guernsey after I had left, and reached 
 me here to-day at two o'clock. We went at once, 
 
230 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 Charles and I, to the Foreign Office. I declared that I 
 did not recognize the French Empire, that I submitted, 
 by constraint and under compulsion, to the abusive 
 formality of the passport, and I gave my name. There- 
 upon they sent for the minister, who was not at the 
 office. His immediate substitute, with a rosette in his 
 buttonhole, came instead, was very polite, and asked my 
 leave to begin by saluting the great poet of the cen- 
 tury. I replied with courtesy to the man of the world, 
 and I repeated my protest with firmness to the official 
 by calling on him to deliver me a passport. 
 
 He hesitated. I said : I wish to be nothing more in 
 France than one of the national guard. He bowed. 
 Charles said : And so do I. He promised us passports, 
 but asked my permission not to send them till this 
 evening. That is how matters stand. 
 
 You approve of what I have done, do you not ? I 
 want to return to* France, to return to Paris, openly, 
 simply, as a national guard, with my two sons at my 
 side. I shall enroll myself in the district where I take 
 up my abode, and I shall go to the ramparts with my 
 rifle on my shoulder. 
 
 All this without prejudice to my duty in other re- 
 spects. I want no share of power, but I want my full 
 share of danger. 
 
 My gentle and intrepid friend, what happiness to do 
 one's duty by your side ! 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 231 
 
 CXXII. 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 26th August, 1870. 
 
 DEAR MEURICE, We are on the lookout ; the 
 refugees are conferring together ; the situation, which 
 was clear, is becoming obscure. No news from out- 
 side. The two marshals, MacMahon and Bazaine, jeal- 
 ous, perhaps, of one another, looking for and not find- 
 ing each other, and MacMahon putting the emperor 
 back into the saddle. As for the Prussians, hesitating 
 advance, slow progress ; fear of the trap laid for them ; 
 to sum up, nothing decisive as yet. In France, unsat- 
 isfactory symptoms; the Empress reappearing on the 
 scene ; the Right raising their heads ; Baroche, Rouher, 
 and Persigny back again ; Trochu ridiculed by the 
 Bonapartist papers, and losing prestige. Probable 
 jealousy, too, in that quarter; Palikao hates Trochu. 
 The Republican papers are not 'coming out again. A 
 coup d'etat is even talked of as probable. 
 
 It is evident that a decisive battle, victory or defeat, 
 Jena or Rosbach, will clear the ground. France is 
 entitled to victory ; the Empire ought to fall. Which 
 will God choose ? 
 
 I shall not make up my mind until the situation 
 clears. In case of a Rosbach, I shall go to Paris at 
 once, for the danger may be great, and I feel that I 
 belong alike to Europe and to Paris. To protect Paris 
 with a living rampart will be the duty of all. In case 
 of a Bonapartist victory and a coup d'etat, I shall 
 gather my family around me at Hauteville House ; that 
 is to say, that I offer you as well as Auguste hospi- 
 tality there. In the mean while ... we wait. 
 
232 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 CXXIII. 
 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 1st September, 1870. 
 
 They tell me not to wear myself out ; to keep myself 
 for the decisive moment ; but will this decisive mo- 
 ment come ? Your noble, tender letter has just reached 
 me, and moves me deeply. You end with a question. 
 I cannot intrust my reply to the post, but Jules Claretie 
 will give it you by word of mouth. He has been here 
 since yesterday; he lunched and dined with me. On 
 his return to Paris he will tell you what I said. I like, 
 and so do you, this young fellow who has such fine 
 qualities of mind and heart. He will repeat my words 
 to you. You will see how far I am ready, but I intend 
 to go to Paris only in one contingency and for one 
 object, heroic indeed, Paris summoning the Revolution 
 to the rescue. In that case I shall come ; otherwise I 
 stay here. 1 
 
 Undoubtedly I have confidence in the final result. 
 I have never believed in France more than at the pre- 
 sent moment. She will accomplish her mission, the con- 
 tinental republic, and then dissolve in it. From this 
 war can only come the end of all wars, and out of this 
 fearful clash of monarchies can only spring the United 
 States of Europe. You will see them ; I shall not. 
 Why ? Because I predicted them. I was the first to 
 utter, on the 17th of July, 1851 (amid cries of de- 
 rision), this phrase : The United States of Europe. 
 Therefore I shall be shut out from them. Never did a 
 Moses see the promised land. 
 
 1 Victor Hugo left Brussels for Paris on the 5th of September, just 
 after the Republic had been proclaimed. 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 233 
 
 At the present moment to be a democrat is to be a 
 patriot ; to defend Paris is to defend the world. Homo 
 sum ; I defend Paris. 
 
 Your letter brought tears to my eyes. How you 
 love me and how I love you ! V. 
 
 Charles, Claretie, and Frederic are just starting for 
 Virton. Fighting is going on near there, at Carign 
 They are going to see what they can of the 
 
IV. AFTER THE FALL OF THE EMPIRE. 
 
 1870-1882. 
 
 I. 
 
 To GENERAL TROCHU. 
 
 PARIS, 25th September, 1870. 
 
 GENERAL, An old man is of small account, but 
 example is something. I wish to go where there is 
 danger, and to go unarmed. I am told that a permit 
 signed by you is necessary. I beg you to send it me. 
 Faithfully yours, 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 n. 
 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 
 BORDEAUX, 18th February, 1871. 
 
 DEAR MEURICE, This is my first spare moment, 
 and I devote it to you, to Mme. Meurice, and to Au- 
 guste Vacquerie. Ah, how I miss you all ! My heart 
 misses you, my conscience misses you, my mind misses 
 you. Never have I felt the want of you so much as 
 just now when you are no longer with me. 
 
 I am not sure if this letter will reach you. The 
 vagaries of the Prussians are as difficult to foresee as 
 to set bounds to. Here we are at last. A trying jour- 
 ney. Victor has written and told you about it. We 
 arrived on the 14th at two o'clock ; no rooms to be 
 
236 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 had ; all the hotels full. At ten o'clock at night we 
 did not know where we should sleep. At last we have 
 a roof over our heads, and even kindly hosts. 
 
 Now, between you and me, the situation is frightful. 
 The Chamber is beyond belief ; we are a minority of 
 50 to 700. It is 1815 added to 1851 (alas ! the same 
 figures, with a slight change in their order). They 
 began by refusing to listen to Garibaldi, who took his 
 departure. We think Louis Blanc, Schoelcher, and 
 I that we, too, shall come to that at last. 
 
 There will probably be nothing to fall back on in 
 face of the crushing majorities in prospect but a whole- 
 sale resignation of the Left, supported by reasons. This 
 would rankle in the Assembly, and probably be its death- 
 blow. We have a meeting of the Left every evening. 
 Louis Blanc and I make tremendous efforts to form it 
 into a group. A great deal of unanimity and strict 
 discipline would enable us, perhaps, to make a fight of 
 it. But shall we obtain this unanimity ? Not a single 
 paper on our side. We are in the air ; no point of 
 support. The Rappel, if published here, would be of 
 immense service. One of you ought to come. The 
 situation must be seen to be understood. In Paris you 
 have no idea of it. 
 
 How far off are the delightful days spent in your 
 hospitable house ! The bombs were bursting over my 
 head, but I was near your heart. 
 
 19th February. 
 
 I add a few lines in haste. You know that the 
 people of Bordeaux gave me a splendid ovation the day 
 after my arrival. Fifty thousand men on the Grande 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 237 
 
 Place shouted : Vive Victor Hugo ! The next day the 
 Assembly lined the square with infantry, cavalry, and 
 artillery. As I had cried, Vive la Repiiblique ! and as 
 fifty thousand voices had repeated the cry, the Assem- 
 bly trembled. It declared itself insulted and threat- 
 ened. However, I have not raised any objection. I 
 reserve myself for the decisive moment. 
 
 This view is shared by the meeting of the Left, 
 which includes Louis Blanc, Schoelcher, Joigneaux, 
 Martin-Bernard, Langlois, Lockroy, Gent, Brisson, etc., 
 and which has elected me its chairman. Yesterday 
 very important questions were discussed : the future 
 Thiers-Bismarck treaty, the unheard-of intolerance of 
 the Assembly, the probability of a wholesale resigna- 
 tion. The Assembly is believed capable of refusing to 
 hear any speaker from the Left on the treaty of peace. 
 Needless to say, I shall do all that is required of me 
 in that matter. 
 
 This morning the president of the national club of 
 Bordeaux came to place its rooms at my disposal. The 
 sympathy with me in the town is very great. I am 
 popular in the street and unpopular in the Assembly. 
 Good. And I embrace you. 
 
 in. 
 
 PREFECT to PAUL MEURICE, 18, Rue de Valois, Paris. 
 
 BORDEAUX, llth March, 1871, 12.55 A. M. 
 M. Victor Hugo sends you the following telegram : 
 Terrible calamity. Charles died this evening, the 
 13th. Apoplectic seizure. Victor must return im- 
 mediately. 
 
238 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 IV. 
 To PAUL MEURICE and AUGUSTE VACQTJERIE. 
 
 14th March, 1871. 
 
 DEAR FRIENDS, I cannot see, my eyes are full of 
 tears as I write ; I can hear Alice's sobs. My heart is 
 shattered. Charles is dead. 
 
 Yesterday morning we had breakfasted cheerfully 
 together with Louis Blanc and Victor. I was giving a 
 farewell dinner at eight o'clock that evening to several 
 friends in the Lanta restaurant. Charles took a cab to 
 drive there, giving orders to stop at a cafe which he 
 mentioned. He was alone in the cab. On reaching 
 the cafe the driver opened the door of the cab and 
 found Charles dead. He had been seized with a sudden 
 congestion followed by hemorrhage. The poor corpse 
 was brought back to us, and I covered it with kisses. 
 
 For some weeks Charles had not been well. The 
 bronchitis which he caught doing duty as artilleryman 
 during the siege of Paris had become worse. We 
 meant to go to Arcachon to set him up. He would 
 have drunk pine water. We were looking forward to 
 spending a week or two together there. All this has 
 come to an end. 
 
 Our dear old Charles, so kindly, so gentle, with such 
 a lofty mind and such great ability, is gone. I am 
 overwhelmed. 
 
 I sent you a telegram. By the time these few lines 
 reach you, I imagine Victor will be on his way back 
 to Bordeaux. I intend to take Charles with me and 
 lay him with my father in Paris, or with his mother at 
 Villequier. 
 
 Love me. 
 
TO PAUL MEURICE. 239 
 
 V. 
 
 To PAUL MEURICE. 
 VIANDEN (LUXEMBURG), Friday, 19$ June, 1871. 
 
 Your letter ! your liberty ! We had a flash of de- 
 light. All our little circle suddenly beamed with joy 
 in our deep mourning for ourselves and for the father- 
 land. Oh ! yes, come quick. We have so much to 
 talk about. Victor is on an excursion, but will come 
 back for you. We shall all be together again, at Vian- 
 den, where every step I take reminds me of you ; the 
 exile could think of nothing but the prisoner. What 
 happiness to see you again ! 
 
 I have been hard at work. It has all increased in 
 a sinister fashion. I think it will make up a volume. 
 Paris combattant is now inadequate. The book will 
 be called L'annee terrible. It will begin with Turba, 
 and, after going through the fall of the empire and 
 the story of the two sieges, will end with the present 
 catastrophe, out of which I shall bring a prophecy of 
 light. 
 
 Yes, we think it would be well to publish the Rappel 
 again at once. Come, my dear and tender counselor. 
 Veni, spiritus ! Mme. Meurice has behaved admi- 
 rably ; of course she has ! My humblest respects to 
 her. How delighted I shall be to see her ! All of 
 us here embrace you with effusion. Great mind, large 
 heart, gentle brother and kind master, I love you. 
 
 Yes, I did right in protesting, and I stopped the 
 cowardly retreat of the Belgian government at once. 
 It now admits the vanquished ones. This is why I 
 have written of it (in my final letter) : It expelled me, 
 
240 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 "but it obeyed me. Have you read that letter ? How 
 much I have to tell you ! 
 
 I embrace you over and over again. Come ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 To MONSIEUR DE SEGUB, BISHOP. 
 
 HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 17 th September, 1872. 
 
 SIR, I was not aware of your existence. 
 
 I am informed to-day that you do exist, and even 
 that you are a bishop. 
 
 I believe it. 
 
 You have had the goodness" to write the following 
 lines about me, which have been communicated to 
 me: ' 
 
 " Victor Hugo, the great, the austere Victor Hugo, the magnifi- 
 cent poet of the democracy and of the universal republic, is also a 
 poor man afflicted with a yearly income of more than three hun- 
 dred thousand francs [underlined in the text] ; some go so far as 
 to say five hundred thousand [underlined in the text]. His infa- 
 mous book Les Miserables brought him in five hundred thousand 
 francs at one stroke. People always forget to mention the charity 
 which his large humanitarian heart doubtless compels him to bestow 
 on his dear clients of the working classes. He is said to be as 
 stingy and selfish as he is boastful." 
 
 Then follow two pages in the same strain on Ledru- 
 Rollin, who is called " an old Croesus ; " on Rochefort, 
 who was caught at Meaux with a lot of 'bank-notes in 
 the lining of his clothes ; on Garibaldi, whom you call 
 " Garibaldi-pacha," who makes war without fighting, 
 whose army consisted of fifteen thousand "bandits as 
 brave as mice, and who ran away carrying off our 
 millions, etc., etc. 
 
 I shall not waste my time in telling you, sir, that in 
 
TO DUKE ALBERT DE BROGLIE. 241 
 
 the ten lines quoted above there are as many lies as 
 there are words. You know it already. I confine my- 
 self to noticing a literary criticism in the passage, the 
 epithet " infamous " applied to Les Miser ables. 
 
 In Les Miser ables there is a bishop who is good, 
 sincere, humble, brotherly, endowed with wit as well as 
 kindness, and who unites every virtue to his sacred of- 
 fice. I suppose that is why Les Miser ables is an infa- 
 mous book. From which it must be inferred that Les 
 Miserables would be an admirable book if the bishop 
 were a malignant slanderer, an insulter, a tasteless and 
 vulgar writer, a low scribbler of the basest kind, a cir- 
 culator of police-court scandal, a croziered and mitred 
 liar. 
 
 Would the second bishop be more true to life than 
 the first ? 
 
 This question concerns you, sir. You are a better 
 judge of bishops than I am. 
 
 VII. 
 To DUKE ALBERT DE BROGLIE. 
 
 AUTEUIL, YlLLA MONTMORENCY, 8$ August, 1873. 
 
 MY DEAR DUKE AND HONORABLE COLLEAGUE, It 
 is to the member of the French Academy that I write. 
 A step of the gravest importance is on the point of 
 being taken. One of the most famous writers of the 
 day, M. Henri Rochefort, condemned for a political 
 offense, is, so they say, to be transported to New Cale- 
 donia. All who know M. Henri Rochefort can testify 
 that his very delicate constitution will not stand this 
 transportation, and that he will either succumb to the 
 
 long and trying voyage, or be killed by homesickness. 
 VOL. n. 16 
 
242 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 M. Henri Rochefort is a father of a family, and leaves 
 three children behind him, one a girl of seventeen. 
 
 The sentence passed on M. Henri Rochefort affects 
 his liberty only, the mode of carrying it out threatens 
 his life. 
 
 Why Noumea ? The Sainte-Marguerite islands would 
 be enough. The sentence does not require Noumea. 
 By detention on the Sainte-Marguerite islands, the sen- 
 tence would be executed and not aggravated. Trans- 
 portation to New Caledonia is an exaggeration of the 
 penalty inflicted on M. Henri Rochefort. The penalty 
 is commuted into a sentence of death. I call your at- 
 tention to this novel species of commutation. 
 
 The day when France hears that the grave has opened 
 to receive this brilliant and courageous man will be a 
 day of mourning for her. 
 
 A writer is concerned, and an original and uncom- 
 mon one. You are a Minister and an Academician ; 
 your two duties agree here and assist one another. 
 You would share the responsibility of the catastrophe 
 which is foreseen and foretold ; you can and you ought 
 to interfere ; you would honor yourself by taking this 
 generous initiative, and, apart from all political opinions 
 and passions, in the name of letters, to which you and 
 I belong, I ask you, my dear colleague, to protect M. 
 Henri Rochefort at this critical moment, and to prevent 
 a departure which would mean his death. 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 243 
 
 VIII. 
 
 To JULES CLARETIE. 
 
 BRUSSELS, 31st August, [1873]. 
 
 I thank you for having enabled me to read your fine 
 article on the war, and your patriotic and stirring book. 
 A breath of progress animates your generous mind. A 
 striking drama is that and nothing more; if exalted 
 ideas on man and society are woven into it, it becomes 
 a great work. 
 
 You are capable of combating the reaction encour- 
 aged by the Empire, and reappearing to-day, in litera- 
 ture as well as in politics, under such pseudonyms as 
 good order, good taste, etc., which are lies. . . . 
 
 The words underlined were recently written by me, 
 and have made all the absolutist papers, French, Bel- 
 gian, and English, grind their teeth with rage, a success 
 which encourages me and will encourage you as well. 
 
 Go on. You have a brave heart as well as a charm- 
 ing mind. You have courage and talent ; that is to 
 say, the ladder for mounting to the attack, and the 
 sword for forcing your way into the fortress. 
 
 IX. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 1 
 
 1st January, [1874]. 
 
 I am overwhelmed, but not prostrated. Your words 
 stir my heart. You are like an elder sister to me. 
 Those who have suffered know how to console. You 
 prove it, you who are so strong and so gentle. 
 
 1 After the death of Francois- Victor Hugo. 
 
244 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 To ALPHONSE KABR. 
 
 PARIS, 8th January, 1874. 
 
 I am touched by the kind words you write to me. 
 Never having wronged you, I could not account for the 
 hostility of which I heard sometimes. It was bound to 
 disappear. There was evidently a misunderstanding. 
 To-day we are friends again. I am glad of it, if such 
 a word can be used in the midst of a grief like mine. 
 
 I am now going through one of the most painful 
 ordeals of my life. On this occasion, you advise me to 
 give up politics. Alas ! what I ought to give up, and 
 what I am giving up, is everything. 
 
 What you style " politics " has always appeared some- 
 what vague to me. For my part, I have endeavored, 
 to the best of my ability, to bring the moral and the 
 human question into what is called politics. From a 
 moral point of view, I fought against Louis Bonaparte ; 
 from a human point of view, I raised my voice on be- 
 half of the oppressed of all countries and of all parties. 
 I think I have done well. My conscience tells me I 
 am right. If the future were to prove me wrong, I 
 should be sorry for the future. 
 
 Dear old friend, great sorrows are the meeting-place 
 of kind hearts. My hand presses yours. 
 
TO GEORGE SAND. 245 
 
 XI. 
 
 To MLLE. LOUISE BERTIN, Quai Conti. 
 
 16th January, 1874. 
 
 MADEMOISELLE, You were kind to these poor dear 
 things, and they were veiy fond of you. Now the 
 darkness has fallen. All is gone. 1 
 
 Receive the assurance of my respect. 
 
 VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XII. 
 
 To GEORGE SAND. 
 
 PARIS, Wth June, 1875. 
 
 You dedicate that beautiful book Valentine tq me ! 
 How can I express my emotion ? 
 
 As a creator of masterpieces, you are the first among 
 women ; you have this unique position, you are the 
 first woman, from the point of view of art, not only of 
 our time, but of all time ; you are the most powerful 
 and the most charming writer that has been vouchsafed 
 to your sex. You are an honor to your sex and to our 
 country. Allow me to bow the knee before you, and 
 to kiss the hand which has written so many exquisite 
 and noble books. 
 
 Your books are of the kind which give light and 
 warmth ; just now we are threatened with an unac- 
 countable increase of darkness ; radiance such as yours 
 is necessary ; you set a good example. I love our age 
 and I feel that it has need of light. I thank you for 
 being such a lofty soul. 
 
 1 Of Victor Hugo's four children three, Le'opoldine, Charles, and 
 Francois- Victor, were dead, and the fourth, Adele, had gone out of her 
 mind. 
 
246 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 To THE COMMITTEE FOB ERECTING A STATUE TO LAMARTINE. 
 
 PARIS, 23d January, 1876. 
 
 France witnessed the appearance of a great poet in 
 1820, and of a great citizen in 1848. 
 
 This poet, this citizen, this great man is Lamartine. 
 I subscribe to his statue. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 To THE FREEMASONS OF LYONS. 
 
 PARIS, 15th April, 1877. 
 
 An eloquent appeal has been addressed to me. I 
 reply to it. 
 
 My friends among the Freemasons of Lyons are right 
 in counting on me. The philosopher is a fighter, the 
 thinker is a combatant ; but the former fights for fra- 
 ternity, the latter for peace. As for me, the day when 
 I cease to struggle I shah 1 have ceased to live. 
 
 Governments, which are all monarchical at the pre- 
 sent moment, have brought us, the peoples, into the 
 following predicament, misery at home and war 
 abroad. On the one side the workman without work, 
 on the other the soldier starting for the battlefield. 
 Hence the problem to be solved, a problem which 
 forces itself on the thinking mind and which contains 
 the whole future of civilization : to make work for the 
 workman, and to take it away from the soldier ; in 
 other words, to substitute the work of life for the work 
 of death. 
 
 The innumerable questions which rise tragically 
 around us are all, at bottom, the same question. It 
 
TO ALFRED TENNYSON. 247 
 
 would seem as if a mysterious need of reciprocal par- 
 don were in the air. One is tempted to exclaim : Let 
 us forgive one another. To forgive is to love. Gov- 
 ernments which wage war, and governments which do 
 not pardon, are all guilty of the same crime ; want of 
 clemency is a form of war, battles are executions. To 
 make peace is to show mercy to mothers; to show 
 mercy is to make peace among men. Let us not weary, 
 then, of holding high aloft this double standard amid 
 the wrath and the tumult : Kepublic abroad ! amnesty 
 at home ! 
 
 xv. 
 
 To LECONTE DE LISLE. 
 
 9th June, 1877. 
 MY EMINENT AND DEAR COLLEAGUE, I have Voted 
 
 for you three times, I would have done so ten times. 
 
 Continue your noble labors, and publish your lofty 
 works, which are one of the glories of our age. 
 
 In the presence of men like you, an Academy, and 
 especially the French Academy, should think of this : 
 that they have no need of it, and that it cannot do 
 without them. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 To ALFRED TENNYSON. 1 
 
 PARIS, June, 1877. 
 
 I read your splendid lines with emotion. It is a 
 reflection of glory that you send me. How should I 
 not love England, which produces men like you ! the 
 England of Wilberforce, the England of Milton and 
 of Newton ! the England of Shakespeare ! 
 
 1 Tennyson had published a sonnet to Victor Hugo in the Nineteenth 
 Century. 
 
248 THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO. 
 
 France and England are a single nation to me, as 
 truth and liberty are a single light. I believe in the 
 human unity as I believe in the divine unity. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 To THE MEMBERS OF THE FREE AND UNSECTARIAN CONGRESS 
 OP EDUCATION. 
 
 PARIS, 16th October, 1879. 
 
 MY DEAR FELLOW-CITIZENS, You offer me your 
 honorary presidentship. I accept it. I shall not be 
 able to attend your meetings, I fear, but I ardently 
 desire the triumph of your ideas, which are mine as 
 weU. 
 
 The rising generation is the future. You instruct 
 it, so you prepare the future. 
 
 This preparation is useful, this instruction is neces- 
 sary. To create the youth of to-day is to make the 
 man of to-morrow. The man of to-morrow is the uni- 
 versal Republic. The Republic means union, unity, 
 harmony, light, work producing well-being, the sup- 
 pression of conflicts between man and man and between 
 nation and nation, the end of inhuman exploitation, the 
 abolition of the law of death and the establishment of 
 the law of life. 
 
 Citizens, these thoughts are in your minds, and I am 
 but the mouthpiece of them ; the time of the terrible 
 and sanguinary necessities of revolution has gone by ; 
 for what remains to be done the inflexible law of 
 progress is sufficient. Besides, let us set our minds at 
 rest; everything is on our side in the great battles 
 which remain to be fought, battles the evident necessity 
 of which does not disturb the peace of mind of the 
 
TO THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 249 
 
 thinker; battles in which revolutionary energy will 
 equal monarchical desperation ; battles in which force 
 allied with right will overthrow violence allied with 
 usurpation; splendid, glorious, enthusiastic, decisive 
 battles, the issue of which is not doubtful, and which 
 will be the Tolbiacums, the Hastingses, and the Auster- 
 litzes of the democracy. 
 
 Citizens, the period for the dissolution of the old 
 world has arrived. The ancient despotisms are con- 
 demned by the law of Providence ; time, the grave- 
 digger, working away in the dark, casts the earth over 
 them ; each day as it falls thrusts them further back 
 into nothingness. 
 
 The Republic is the future ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 To THE EMPEROR OF AUSTRIA. 
 
 12th December, 1882. 
 
 I have received, in the course of two days, eleven 
 telegraphic messages from the universities and the 
 academies of Italy. All of them plead for the life of 
 a condemned man. 
 
 The Emperor of Austria has a pardon to grant at 
 this moment. 
 
 Let him sign this pardon ; it will be a great act. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
 RETURN TO DESK FROM WHICH BORROWED 
 
 LOAN DEPT. D 
 
 RENEWALS ONLYTEL NO. 642-3405 
 
 This book is due on the last date stamped below, or 
 
 OQ the date to which renewed. 
 
 UNIVER 
 
 Reti 
 This book 
 
 
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 IAR 5 1953 " 
 
 Renewed books are sub 
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 (N5382slO)476-A-32 
 
 General Library 
 
 University of California 
 
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 APR241S63 
 
 21-100m-9,'48 (B399sl6)476 
 
 SEP i i '64 -4 PM 
 
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 THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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