The letters of Victor Hugo : from exile, and after the fall of the empire

Front matter

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Contents

PAGE I. LETTERS To VARIOUS PERSONS.— JOURNEY ON THE RHINE 1

II. Tae Coup D’ETAT.— LETTERS FROM BRUSSELS . ? . 55 I. LETTERS FROM EXxILE : F : À 3 £ 115 IV. AFTER THE FALL OF THE EMPIRE P A 4 : . 235

THE LETTERS OF VICTOR HUGO.

II

To Louis DE Maynarp, at Martinique. 24th May, 1837.

Weare still expecting you. Your kind and charming letter told us you were soon returning ; we were all looking forward to it, and you have not yet arrived !

We want you badly here; we want you for ourselves, 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 Mlle. Bertin 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.

III. 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 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 success. 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; sometimes 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.

IT 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 simply 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 Pavin. 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 Pavie, 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 isa good and noble thing.

Here I am troubled by worries, legal business,’ lawyers, 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.

Vv.

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 Comédie Francaise.

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. Venez, Manager of the Comédie Française. Monrmiraiz, 20th August, 1838.

Dear Sir, — According to the terms of the judgment given in the suit between me and the Comédie Frangaise, and confirmed by decree, the Comédie was to play Angelo 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 number of performances has not been completed, and the result is that at this moment the Comédie Française is indebted to me in the sum of eighteen thousand francs. However, I see no reason for altermg the decision which led me to remit the sum of two thousand four hundred francs owing to me by the Comédie for delays in the representation of Marion de Lorme. T 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 Comédie Francaise who have assisted me with so much zeal and talent. Be so good then, dear sir, as to inform the Comédie that I give it a free and full discharge of the sum of eighteen thousand francs which it now owes me. Vicror Hueo.

TO M. ETCHEVERRY. 7

VII.

To M. Ercurverry, at the Ecoles newspaper office. 27th February, 1839.

... Tread your Gazette des Ecoles with great interest. 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 will do great things. In politics you will 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 civilization. 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 beginnings 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, for I foresee the genius of the coming age, and I know that you will have plenty of solutions to offer.

VIII.

To Mur. Victor Huco.

Tuesday, 27th August, 1839.

I have finished my third act,’ 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 Adèle, 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 Dédé, my dear little Toto, and my dear old Charlie, and my fondest love to yourself. I love you.

Your own VicToR. 1 Of the play Les Jumeaux, which was never finished.

IX.

To Juzes Lacrorx.} 14th April, 1840.

You are perfectly right, dear poet; make the translation 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 privilege 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 doin 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 Moliére have done, write homogeneous pieces.

That is my advice. And, next, I am devotedly attached to you.

X.

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 ? 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 son of the poet.

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 * and M. Jauffret. Are you not also delighted? Kiss our dear little girls for me. I love you fondly, my Adèle.

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 happier one? A. Porrson.

XI.

To Mus. Victor Hueco, at Saint-Prix. Panis, 29th August, noon [1840].

I am off in a few minutes, dear Adèle, 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 Dédé, my little prizemen, and my kindest regards to your dear father.

Love me, my Adéle, and think a little of me.

1 Headmaster of the Collège Charlemagne.

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 * pure and simple, to which I will always add a letter to you. Iam starting for Liége, and from there I go to Cologne.

I think of you all very tenderly, and of you, my Adéle. 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 affection 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.

XIII.

To Mur. Victor Hueo. ' Sr. Goar, 15th 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 Adèle, 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 Adèle. 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 you both, my Toto and Dédé. You must all think of your father, who loves you so dearly.

XIV.

| To THE SAME.

AIx-LA-CHAPELLE, 25th 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 Liége to Aix-la- Chapelle. Tell Didine* 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 tearful face on old Bontemps’ doorstep.

Work well, my dear children. My Charlie, remember 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 Dédé 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 Dédé is not a good child. I hope her dear kind mamma is pleased with her.

Tell your father, my Adèle, that I miss him every

1 Léopoldine, Victor Hugo’s eldest daughter.

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 T love.

XV.

To Mun. Victor Hveo.

BINGEN, 28th September, 1840.

Good-morning, my darling Adéle; my fondest love to you. I am nowat 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 Tréves 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 finishing on the Rhine.

“On the 14th of September M. Jules Janin, author, and M. Victor Hugo, id., passed through Bingen,” —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 neighborhood. 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 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 incognito and unrecognized, and I am glad of it.

T hope to find nice letters from everybody at Mayence, 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 Dédé, just now I hear a little girl of your age chattering in the room next mine, who reminds 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 Toto, 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 Tréves. You ought to understand 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. Repeat 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.

Tam going to see Mannheim, Heidelberg, and Frankfort; 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, Riidesheim, 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 Tréves. 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 Adèle. T shall love you the more.

Your dear old Huspanp.

XVII.

To Toro.

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 darling, 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 happiness 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 Tréves, 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. I. 2 life ; and I imagine that I am among you all, my darling children.

I am delighted to hear that all the animals belonging to my little shepherdess Dédé are quite well, and that you have finished your house of leaves and branches. Tell Dédé 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 1 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 caresses, 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 BÉRANGER.

MAYENCE, 4th October, 1840.

IT 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 BERANGER. 19 bridge, and thinking of the great things which Napoleon did here, when from a neighboring window a woman’s voice, a sweet voice, wafted me snatches of the charming lines : —

Mes amis! mes amis!

Soyons de notre pays !

These noble lines of yours, heard in this way and in this spot, touched me deeply. I send you the fragments as they were borne to me on the breeze. They brought tears to my eyes, and I felt irresistibly impelled to write to you. My heart was sad in a place where a Frenchman ought not to be a foreigner ; where a white soldier and a blue soldier, 7. 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 reéchoes with your voice, and that the town of Frauenlob sings the songs of Béranger.

I am only passing through Mayence, but I am taking a deep impression away with me. I owe this to you, and I thank you for it. Dear great poet, I am your devoted admirer.

XIX.

To Mur. Victor Hueo.

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 interests 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, dearest, that I expect them to persevere in their studies.

I shall set to work, too, on my return. It is important 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.