In the cemetery of Père-Lachaise, in the vicinity of the common grave,
far from the elegant quarter of that city of sepulchres, far from all
the tombs of fancy which display in the presence of eternity all the
hideous fashions of death, in a deserted corner, beside an old wall,
beneath a great yew tree over which climbs the wild convolvulus, amid
dandelions and mosses, there lies a stone. That stone is no more exempt
than others from the leprosy of time, of dampness, of the lichens and
from the defilement of the birds. The water turns it green, the air
blackens it. It is not near any path, and people are not fond of
walking in that direction, because the grass is high and their feet are
immediately wet. When there is a little sunshine, the lizards come
thither. All around there is a quivering of weeds. In the spring,
linnets warble in the trees.
This stone is perfectly plain. In cutting it the only thought was the
requirements of the tomb, and no other care was taken than to make the
stone long enough and narrow enough to cover a man.
No name is to be read there.
Only, many years ago, a hand wrote upon it in pencil these four lines,
which have become gradually illegible beneath the rain and the dust,
and which are, to-day, probably effaced:
Il dort. Quoique le sort fût pour lui bien étrange,
Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n’eut plus son ange.
La chose simplement d’elle-même arriva,
Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s’en va.70
LETTER TO M. DAELLI
Publisher of the Italian translation of _Les Misérables_ in Milan.
HAUTEVILLE-HOUSE, October 18, 1862.
You are right, sir, when you tell me that _Les Misérables_ is written
for all nations. I do not know whether it will be read by all, but I
wrote it for all. It is addressed to England as well as to Spain, to
Italy as well as to France, to Germany as well as to Ireland, to
Republics which have slaves as well as to Empires which have serfs.
Social problems overstep frontiers. The sores of the human race, those
great sores which cover the globe, do not halt at the red or blue lines
traced upon the map. In every place where man is ignorant and
despairing, in every place where woman is sold for bread, wherever the
child suffers for lack of the book which should instruct him and of the
hearth which should warm him, the book of _Les Misérables_ knocks at
the door and says: “Open to me, I come for you.”
At the hour of civilization through which we are now passing, and which
is still so sombre, the _miserable’s_ name is Man; he is agonizing in
all climes, and he is groaning in all languages.
Your Italy is no more exempt from the evil than is our France. Your
admirable Italy has all miseries on the face of it. Does not banditism,
that raging form of pauperism, inhabit your mountains? Few nations are
more deeply eaten by that ulcer of convents which I have endeavored to
fathom. In spite of your possessing Rome, Milan, Naples, Palermo,
Turin, Florence, Sienna, Pisa, Mantua, Bologna, Ferrara, Genoa, Venice,
a heroic history, sublime ruins, magnificent ruins, and superb cities,
you are, like ourselves, poor. You are covered with marvels and vermin.
Assuredly, the sun of Italy is splendid, but, alas, azure in the sky
does not prevent rags on man.
Like us, you have prejudices, superstitions, tyrannies, fanaticisms,
blind laws lending assistance to ignorant customs. You taste nothing of
the present nor of the future without a flavor of the past being
mingled with it. You have a barbarian, the monk, and a savage, the
lazzarone. The social question is the same for you as for us. There are
a few less deaths from hunger with you, and a few more from fever; your
social hygiene is not much better than ours; shadows, which are
Protestant in England, are Catholic in Italy; but, under different
names, the _vescovo_ is identical with the _bishop_, and it always
means night, and of pretty nearly the same quality. To explain the
Bible badly amounts to the same thing as to understand the Gospel
badly.
Is it necessary to emphasize this? Must this melancholy parallelism be
yet more completely verified? Have you not indigent persons? Glance
below. Have you not parasites? Glance up. Does not that hideous
balance, whose two scales, pauperism and parasitism, so mournfully
preserve their mutual equilibrium, oscillate before you as it does
before us? Where is your army of schoolmasters, the only army which
civilization acknowledges?
Where are your free and compulsory schools? Does every one know how to
read in the land of Dante and of Michael Angelo? Have you made public
schools of your barracks? Have you not, like ourselves, an opulent
war-budget and a paltry budget of education? Have not you also that
passive obedience which is so easily converted into soldierly
obedience? military establishment which pushes the regulations to the
extreme of firing upon Garibaldi; that is to say, upon the living honor
of Italy? Let us subject your social order to examination, let us take
it where it stands and as it stands, let us view its flagrant offences,
show me the woman and the child. It is by the amount of protection with
which these two feeble creatures are surrounded that the degree of
civilization is to be measured. Is prostitution less heartrending in
Naples than in Paris? What is the amount of truth that springs from
your laws, and what amount of justice springs from your tribunals? Do
you chance to be so fortunate as to be ignorant of the meaning of those
gloomy words: public prosecution, legal infamy, prison, the scaffold,
the executioner, the death penalty? Italians, with you as with us,
Beccaria is dead and Farinace is alive. And then, let us scrutinize
your state reasons. Have you a government which comprehends the
identity of morality and politics? You have reached the point where you
grant amnesty to heroes! Something very similar has been done in
France. Stay, let us pass miseries in review, let each one contribute
his pile, you are as rich as we. Have you not, like ourselves, two
condemnations, religious condemnation pronounced by the priest, and
social condemnation decreed by the judge? Oh, great nation of Italy,
thou resemblest the great nation of France! Alas! our brothers, you
are, like ourselves, _Miserables_.
From the depths of the gloom wherein you dwell, you do not see much
more distinctly than we the radiant and distant portals of Eden. Only,
the priests are mistaken. These holy portals are before and not behind
us.
I resume. This book, _Les Misérables_, is no less your mirror than
ours. Certain men, certain castes, rise in revolt against this book,—I
understand that. Mirrors, those revealers of the truth, are hated; that
does not prevent them from being of use.
As for myself, I have written for all, with a profound love for my own
country, but without being engrossed by France more than by any other
nation. In proportion as I advance in life, I grow more simple, and I
become more and more patriotic for humanity.
This is, moreover, the tendency of our age, and the law of radiance of
the French Revolution; books must cease to be exclusively French,
Italian, German, Spanish, or English, and become European, I say more,
human, if they are to correspond to the enlargement of civilization.
Hence a new logic of art, and of certain requirements of composition
which modify everything, even the conditions, formerly narrow, of taste
and language, which must grow broader like all the rest.
In France, certain critics have reproached me, to my great delight,
with having transgressed the bounds of what they call “French taste”; I
should be glad if this eulogium were merited.
In short, I am doing what I can, I suffer with the same universal
suffering, and I try to assuage it, I possess only the puny forces of a
man, and I cry to all: “Help me!”
This, sir, is what your letter prompts me to say; I say it for you and
for your country. If I have insisted so strongly, it is because of one
phrase in your letter. You write:—
“There are Italians, and they are numerous, who say: ‘This book, _Les
Misérables_, is a French book. It does not concern us. Let the French
read it as a history, we read it as a romance.’”—Alas! I repeat,
whether we be Italians or Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since
history has been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery
has been the garment of the human race; the moment has at length
arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon the naked
limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of the past with the
grand purple robe of the dawn.
If this letter seems to you of service in enlightening some minds and
in dissipating some prejudices, you are at liberty to publish it, sir.
Accept, I pray you, a renewed assurance of my very distinguished
sentiments.
VICTOR HUGO.
FOOTNOTES:
1 (return) [ Patois of the French Alps: _chat de maraude_, rascally
marauder.]
2 (return) [ Liège: a cork-tree. Pau: a jest on _peau_, skin.]
3 (return) [ She belonged to that circle where cuckoos and carriages
share the same fate; and a jade herself, she lived, as jades live, for
the space of a morning (or jade).]
4 (return) [ An ex-convict.]
5 (return) [ This parenthesis is due to Jean Valjean.]
6 (return) [ A bullet as large as an egg.]
7 (return) [ Walter Scott, Lamartine, Vaulabelle, Charras, Quinet,
Thiers.]
8 (return) [ This is the inscription:—D. O. M. CY A ETE ÉCRASÉ PAR
MALHEUR SOUS UN CHARIOT, MONSIEUR BERNARD DE BRYE MARCHAND A BRUXELLE
LE [illegible] FEVRIER 1637.]
9 (return) [ A heavy rifled gun.]
10 (return) [ “A battle terminated, a day finished, false measures
repaired, greater successes assured for the morrow,—all was lost by a
moment of panic, terror.”—Napoleon, Dictées de Sainte Hélène.]
11 (return) [ Five winning numbers in a lottery]
12 (return) [ Literally “made cuirs”; _i. e._, pronounced a _t_ or an
_s_ at the end of words where the opposite letter should occur, or used
either one of them where neither exists.]
13 (return) [ Lawyer Corbeau, perched on a docket, held in his beak a
writ of execution; Lawyer Renard, attracted by the smell, addressed him
nearly as follows, etc.]
14 (return) [ This is the factory of Goblet Junior: Come choose your
jugs and crocks, Flower-pots, pipes, bricks. The Heart sells Diamonds
to every comer.]
15 (return) [ On the boughs hang three bodies of unequal merits: Dismas
and Gesmas, between is the divine power. Dismas seeks the heights,
Gesmas, unhappy man, the lowest regions; the highest power will
preserve us and our effects. If you repeat this verse, you will not
lose your things by theft.]
16 (return) [ Instead of _porte cochère_ and _porte bàtarde_.]
17 (return) [ Jesus-my-God-bandy-leg—down with the moon!]
18 (return) [ _Chicken: _ slang allusion to the noise made in calling
poultry.]
19 (return) [ Louis XVIII. is represented in comic pictures of that day
as having a pear-shaped head.]
20 (return) [ Tuck into your trousers the shirt-tail that is hanging
out. Let it not be said that patriots have hoisted the white flag.]
21 (return) [ In order to re-establish the shaken throne firmly on its
base, soil (Des solles), greenhouse and house (Decazes) must be
changed.]
24 (return) [ The slang term for a painter’s assistant.]
25 (return) [ If Cæsar had given me glory and war, and I were obliged
to quit my mother’s love, I would say to great Cæsar, “Take back thy
sceptre and thy chariot; I prefer the love of my mother.”]
26 (return) [ Whether the sun shines brightly or dim, the bear returns
to his cave.]
27 (return) [ The peep-hole is a _Judas_ in French. Hence the
half-punning allusion.]
28 (return) [ Our love has lasted a whole week, but how short are the
instants of happiness! To adore each other for eight days was hardly
worth the while! The time of love should last forever.]
29 (return) [ You leave me to go to glory; my sad heart will follow you
everywhere.]
30 (return) [ A democrat.]
31 (return) [ King Bootkick went a-hunting after crows, mounted on two
stilts. When one passed beneath them, one paid him two sous.]
32 (return) [ In olden times, fouriers were the officials who preceded
the Court and allotted the lodgings.]
33 (return) [ A game of ninepins, in which one side of the ball is
smaller than the other, so that it does not roll straight, but
describes a curve on the ground.]
34 (return) [ From April 19 to May 20.]
35 (return) [ _Merlan:_ a sobriquet given to hairdressers because they
are white with powder.]
36 (return) [ The scaffold.]
37 (return) [ Argot of the Temple.]
38 (return) [ Argot of the barriers.]
39 (return) [ The Last Day of a Condemned Man.]
40 (return) [ “Vous trouverez dans ces potains-là, une foultitude de
raisons pour que je me libertise.”]
41 (return) [ It must be observed, however, that _mac_ in Celtic means
_son_.]
42 (return) [ Smoke puffed in the face of a person asleep.]
43 (return) [ Je n’entrave que le dail comment meck, le daron des
orgues, peut atiger ses mômes et ses momignards et les locher criblant
sans être agité lui-meme.]
44 (return) [ At night one sees nothing, by day one sees very well; the
bourgeois gets flurried over an apocryphal scrawl, practice virtue,
tutu, pointed hat!]
45 (return) [ _Chien_, dog, trigger.]
46 (return) [ Here is the morn appearing. When shall we go to the
forest, Charlot asked Charlotte. Tou, tou, tou, for Chatou, I have but
one God, one King, one half-farthing, and one boot. And these two poor
little wolves were as tipsy as sparrows from having drunk dew and thyme
very early in the morning. And these two poor little things were as
drunk as thrushes in a vineyard; a tiger laughed at them in his cave.
The one cursed, the other swore. When shall we go to the forest?
Charlot asked Charlotte.]
47 (return) [ There swings the horrible skeleton of a poor lover who
hung himself.]
48 (return) [ She astounds at ten paces, she frightens at two, a wart
inhabits her hazardous nose; you tremble every instant lest she should
blow it at you, and lest, some fine day, her nose should tumble into
her mouth.]
49 (return) [ _Matelote:_ a culinary preparation of various fishes.
_Gibelotte:_ stewed rabbits.]
50 (return) [ Treat if you can, and eat if you dare.]
51 (return) [ _Bipède sans plume:_ biped without feathers—pen.]
52 (return) [ Municipal officer of Toulouse.]
53 (return) [ Do you remember our sweet life, when we were both so
young, and when we had no other desire in our hearts than to be well
dressed and in love? When, by adding your age to my age, we could not
count forty years between us, and when, in our humble and tiny
household, everything was spring to us even in winter. Fair days!
Manuel was proud and wise, Paris sat at sacred banquets, Foy launched
thunderbolts, and your corsage had a pin on which I pricked myself.
Everything gazed upon you. A briefless lawyer, when I took you to the
Prado to dine, you were so beautiful that the roses seemed to me to
turn round, and I heard them say: Is she not beautiful! How good she
smells! What billowing hair! Beneath her mantle she hides a wing. Her
charming bonnet is hardly unfolded. I wandered with thee, pressing thy
supple arm. The passers-by thought that love bewitched had wedded, in
our happy couple, the gentle month of April to the fair month of May.
We lived concealed, content, with closed doors, devouring love, that
sweet forbidden fruit. My mouth had not uttered a thing when thy heart
had already responded. The Sorbonne was the bucolic spot where I adored
thee from eve till morn. ’Tis thus that an amorous soul applies the
chart of the Tender to the Latin country. O Place Maubert! O Place
Dauphine! When in the fresh spring-like hut thou didst draw thy
stocking on thy delicate leg, I saw a star in the depths of the garret.
I have read a great deal of Plato, but nothing of it remains by me;
better than Malebranche and then Lamennais thou didst demonstrate to me
celestial goodness with a flower which thou gavest to me, I obeyed
thee, thou didst submit to me; oh gilded garret! to lace thee! to
behold thee going and coming from dawn in thy chemise, gazing at thy
young brow in thine ancient mirror! And who, then, would forego the
memory of those days of aurora and the firmament, of flowers, of gauze
and of moire, when love stammers a charming slang? Our gardens
consisted of a pot of tulips; thou didst mask the window with thy
petticoat; I took the earthenware bowl and I gave thee the Japanese
cup. And those great misfortunes which made us laugh! Thy cuff
scorched, thy boa lost! And that dear portrait of the divine
Shakespeare which we sold one evening that we might sup! I was a beggar
and thou wert charitable. I kissed thy fresh round arms in haste. A
folio Dante served us as a table on which to eat merrily a centime’s
worth of chestnuts. The first time that, in my joyous den, I snatched a
kiss from thy fiery lip, when thou wentest forth, dishevelled and
blushing, I turned deathly pale and I believed in God. Dost thou recall
our innumerable joys, and all those fichus changed to rags? Oh! what
sighs from our hearts full of gloom fluttered forth to the heavenly
depths!]
54 (return) [ My nose is in tears, my friend Bugeaud, lend me thy
gendarmes that I may say a word to them. With a blue capote and a
chicken in his shako, here’s the banlieue, co-cocorico.]
55 (return) [ Love letters.]
56 (return) [
“The bird slanders in the elms,
And pretends that yesterday, Atala
Went off with a Russian,
Where fair maids go.
Lon la.
My friend Pierrot, thou pratest, because Mila knocked at her pane the
other day and called me. The jades are very charming, their poison
which bewitched me would intoxicate Monsieur Orfila. I’m fond of love
and its bickerings, I love Agnes, I love Pamela, Lise burned herself in
setting me aflame. In former days when I saw the mantillas of Suzette
and of Zéila, my soul mingled with their folds. Love, when thou
gleamest in the dark thou crownest Lola with roses, I would lose my
soul for that. Jeanne, at thy mirror thou deckest thyself! One fine
day, my heart flew forth. I think that it is Jeanne who has it. At
night, when I come from the quadrilles, I show Stella to the stars, and
I say to them: “Behold her.” Where fair maids go, lon la.]
57 (return) [ But some prisons still remain, and I am going to put a
stop to this sort of public order. Does any one wish to play at
skittles? The whole ancient world fell in ruin, when the big ball
rolled. Good old folks, let us smash with our crutches that Louvre
where the monarchy displayed itself in furbelows. We have forced its
gates. On that day, King Charles X. did not stick well and came
unglued.]
58 (return) [ Steps on the Aventine Hill, leading to the Tiber, to
which the bodies of executed criminals were dragged by hooks to be
thrown into the Tiber.]
59 (return) [ Mustards.]
60 (return) [ From _casser_, to break: break-necks.]
61 (return) [ “Jeanne was born at Fougère, a true shepherd’s nest; I
adore her petticoat, the rogue.” “Love, thou dwellest in her; For ’tis
in her eyes that thou placest thy quiver, sly scamp!” “As for me, I
sing her, and I love, more than Diana herself, Jeanne and her firm
Breton breasts.”]
62 (return) [ In allusion to the expression, _coiffer
Sainte-Catherine_, “to remain unmarried.”]
63 (return) [ “Thus, hemming in the course of thy musings, Alcippus, it
is true that thou wilt wed ere long.”]
64 (return) [ _Tirer le diable par la queue_, “to live from hand to
mouth.”]
65 (return) [ “Triton trotted on before, and drew from his conch-shell
sounds so ravishing that he delighted everyone!”]
66 (return) [ “A Shrove-Tuesday marriage will have no ungrateful
children.”]
67 (return) [ A short mask.]
68 (return) [ In allusion to the story of Prometheus.]
69 (return) [ _Un fafiot sérieux. Fafiot_ is the slang term for a
bank-bill, derived from its rustling noise.]
70 (return) [ He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived.
He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply,
of itself, as the night comes when day is gone.]
