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    Les Misérables
    Les Misérables
    Les Misérables
    Ebook2,264 pages30 hours

    Les Misérables

    By Victor Hugo

    4.5/5

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateNov 25, 2013
    Author

    Victor Hugo

    Victor Hugo (1802-1885) is one of the most well-regarded French writers of the nineteenth century. He was a poet, novelist and dramatist, and he is best remembered in English as the author of Notre-Dame de Paris (The Hunchback of Notre-Dame) (1831) and Les Misérables (1862). Hugo was born in Besançon, and became a pivotal figure of the Romantic movement in France, involved in both literature and politics. He founded the literary magazine Conservateur Littéraire in 1819, aged just seventeen, and turned his hand to writing political verse and drama after the accession to the throne of Louis-Philippe in 1830. His literary output was curtailed following the death of his daughter in 1843, but he began a new novel as an outlet for his grief. Completed many years later, this novel became Hugo's most notable work, Les Misérables.

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    Reviews for Les Misérables

    4.5/5

    93 ratings73 reviews

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    • 5/5
      Am currently re-reading with my wife because we both loved it so much; Truly the best written novel of all time; Characters; story lines; heart ache; triumph and the use of the written word are beyond anything you can find from ANT writer today; truly the masterpiece by which all other writing should be measured against
    • 5/5
      Umm, so...as with War and Peace, how the heck do you review a novel that is part of the fabric of Western society; a book that has been around so long and was written by an author so esteemed as to have a reputation that proceeds the reading? Yeah, I don't know either.I will say that I assigned a one-star deduction (no, I am not the Russian judge, though I am definitely partial to Russian literature, but I digress) for two reasons: a) some of the commentary, while relevant to the plot, meandered longer than was interesting - in most cases - for my liking. This surprised me. I like reading history and observations of society, plus I am generally a curious cat. Somehow, Hugo wasn't holding my attention in a lot of the passages that were away from the main action of the story. Reason b) all of the coincidences used to advance the plot were hard to swallow. I will say that when I come across coincidences while I am reading fiction, it bugs the crap out of me. I mean really, really annoys me. Hugo, in using this device, managed to not wholly annoy me. So, The main story was kick-ass and in these sections I was hard pressed to put the book down. Unlike Tolstoy, in War and Peace, I was not so riveted during the other chapters of the story. Sigh. Since Hugo is awesome - apparently that is what is says on his headstone: "Awesome" - I will take the blame for having some fault during the reading of Les Misérables. I'm still not gonna give back that deducted start, though, Hugo!
    • 4/5
      I originally read this when I was 13 years old, and have finally revisited it at 50. How strange that it remains a 4 star read for me. Not because it looks the same, but because I have traded in my youthful set of issues with this tale for a completely different set.

      I will not bore you with my youthful perceptions. Instead, if you are so foolish as to continue reading, I will bore you with my perceptions as an old fart:

      Hugo did an excellent job of conveying how selfish and judgmental people were in France during the early 1800's. IMO that capacity has always existed in humans. It's something that every parent battles to eradicate from their own children. Sometimes it feels like there is not a single day when this war is not being waged. Well, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

      This author also leans heavily upon religion as a redeeming force for mankind. And I fully agree that religion can be a great force for good. But IMO, religion also happens to be a construct that we humans invented for that very purpose. Of course, the construct did not have to be an actual being. Philosophy, or even science, would also do. So long as the constructed system fully embodied mankind's need for the universe to make sense and to be a worthwhile place for us to live together.

      P.S. Please accept my apologies if this review has offended you. I like to imagine that I live in a world where diverse opinions are allowed. But I surely do appreciate that hearing an alien view of reality can feel like a personal attack.
    • 5/5
      I loved this book. I was expecting something somewhere between Trollope's extraordinary writing and Zola's wonderful stories - and I got it! Great literature indeed, and what a character Jean Valjean is.

      His story is almost biblical, one of redemption. One who travels the path from evil to good with scarcely a stumble but many an obstruction along the way. Hugo uses the book, much as Tolstoy liked to do, to expound his personal philosophy and also the condition of the peasants, les miserables.

      Good, excellent, as the book was, I am left with one question, how come Valjean never recognised Thénardier no matter how many times he met him?

      If you like classics and sagas, its a good holiday book. Start before you go, read it on the plane, a little by the pool and when lying on the beach, and then when you get home, there will still be more to read about these people who are your friends and family now.

    • 4/5
      Whenever I get asked about classic book recommendations, I normally start by admitting that despite the fact that I read all the time and I have a BA in English, I am the worst literature major ever. You know those lists of the “100 Greatest Books of All Time” and you mark off the ones you’ve read? Even though I’ve read a good chunk of those books, the number of canonical works that I’ve read is pretty pathetic. (For example, I’ve only read one Dickens novel, and that was a children’s abridgement.) My history with Les Miserables is as follows: I saw the 1998 Liam Neeson movie in my HS freshman French I class; the next year I saw the stage musical and then proceeded to listen to the OLCR a couple dozen times. And then I fell out of it until the new movie came out, and on hearing about the number of details thrown in from the back, I thought, “Oh why not.”

      What did help out is that because I was familiar with the story, I was able to appreciate all of the extra detail so much more. (Same thing happened when I first read Phantom of the Opera.) Yes, I know how things were going to turn out, but it also allowed me to think “Okay, so how do we get from Point A to B exactly?” And putting the dots together made the experience more enjoyable. For example, at the end of the infamous 200-page recounting of Waterloo, when Colonel Pontmercy introduces himself to M. Thenardier, my reaction was “Holy shit that explains so much.” And even then, my thought process was completely wrong. And the backstories—again, despite knowing that everything was going to end horribly—the backstories add so much to the story. Fantine’s whole summer of love has so much more contextual weight when you find out how screwed over she got. (Fuck you, Tholomyès. Fuck you.) And Marius—I still don’t like him very much once he meets up with Cosette, but the whole background with his father and grandfather got me really sucked into his story.

      And even the long digressions weren’t that bad. Admittedly, I did tend to skim whenever Hugo decided to be very philosophical and ramble on about stuff that I’ve already gotten from the plot thanks so very much. However, the aforementioned Battle of Waterloo section and the other long descriptive passages, I really liked. The scenes at the Convent at Petite Rue Pipcus was one of my favorite parts, with the description of this absolutely rigid society and how Valjean is going to manage to infiltrate into it out. I actually also loved the “Intestines of the Leviathan” section because it’s so well-written and does add a lot to the story. And just the actual story of Jean Valjean itself is so good, I just wanted to keep reading the book.

      If there was anything else that got a boost for actually reading the book, the characters. The main set of characters I do still like, but I like that there was so much more added to them. (JAVERT SNARKS AND IT IS GLORIOUS.) This is particularly evident in the side characters, specifically LES AMIS. I love Marius’s friends, especially since we actually get to know them and not just specifically “Oh, well, you get one line.” Courfeyrac, as I have fangirled, is the best. Why must you die horribly, Courfeyrac.

      (Oh, can I tangent about the book vs. the musical for a moment? So, I had begun to assume that “Oh, so Marius finds M. Thenardier and that’s how he and Eponine are friends” while I was reading. And it turns out that Marius only talks to Eponine twice and when she’s dying he doesn’t recognize her at first. She still has a tragic death scene and the worst dying declaration of love ever, but “On My Own” just got a whole lot of new context after reading the book.)

      The only thing I really had a problem with overall was that every character keeps popping up by happenstance. I get that Hugo was playing on providence and that these characters were so entwined in each other’s lives, but it got the point that it didn’t feel like a surprise when he reveals “And it was SO-AND-SO!” It does work well at times—the last time Javert and Valjean encounter each other for example (and I felt so awful because I knew Javert was going to commit suicide and I didn’t want him to do it) – but most of the time, I was thinking, “Oh you. You’re not dead yet. Carry on.”

      This being the Kindle translation, I don’t think it was too bad, although there were places that seemed really choppy. It also seemed like the translator couldn’t decide what exactly should be translated in text as opposed to linking a footnote (I don’t remember half of my French so that didn’t help). Also, it took me halfway through the book to realize that the insistence of “thou” vs. “you” was supposed to be “vous” vs. “du.” Again, I don’t know if that was me or the choppy translation.

      My big argument for the classics (which I’ve amended from my Brit Lit professors) is that once you take off these books off the Grand Literary Pedestal and take the books as books and bugger to the thematic elements, they’re really good. Before I actually sat down and read Les Miserables, all I knew about the book was “TWO HUNDRED PAGES OF NOTHING HAPPENING.” I WAS WRONG. I really liked the book, even with all of the info-dumping and contrived coincidences. And if you think that you can just go see the musical without reading the book at all, you are sorely missing out.
    • 3/5
      This isn't in the least bit a quick read. The version I have is in 2 volumes, each of which is a big tome it its own right.
      The other thing that's rather long are the sentences. I'm fairly sure that I saw a sentence that stretched over a whole page - Mr Hugo is in love with all punctuation - except the full stop. It was an object lesson in how to use colons & semi colons. >:-) It does digress somewhat - at one point there's a fairly long description of the Battle of Waterloo that does little to advance the story, but does provide the back story between two characters in fulsome detail. If you've seen the musical that is, trust me, merely the bare bones of what's in here.
      Having said that, it was a read that felt worthwhile. Some epic tomes just feel like you're wading through treacle, whereas this was a descriptive treat.
    • 5/5
      Les Mis is, to me, the best book I've ever read. It's full of the very best, and worst, of humanity. I can think of no other book that shows the whole range of mankind. The length may be a put off to some, but anyone who perseveres will be well rewarded and emerge better for having read this.
    • 5/5
      Dark pasts. Hopeful futures. Love. War. Miserable people with glorious characters. WOW!!!!!!This book is by far my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE BOOK EVERRRR!!!!!!!It has all the ingredients for a perfect story. It has a lot of adventure, good vs. evil, crime, repentance, romance and ... the writing! It is sooooo AMAZING!!! Victor Hugo never fails in giving you the complete package! He really digs into detail about everything! Never thought I'd know so much about the Nepolianic Wars and ... The sewers of Paris. Okay, maybe that is not quite so pleasant, but the detail is what one always expects from Hugo; it's just the way he is.The characters are all soooo loveable! (EXCEPT the Thenardiers!!!) Jean Valjean is the greatest hero ever! Fatine's innocence in spite of her fall is beautiful! And Marius, although he's sort of the stereotype lover-boy, is also a great young man you just cannot help but love. Cosette is adorable when a child and so well portrayed when she grows up; she is portrayed with faults that seem to give her a more beautiful sketch of character. And of course Javert is one of my favorite villains of all time since he's that weird kind of villain who is sort of good, yet bad in the way that he is .... too good, as in too perfect to the point he SPOILER ALERT ***kills himself after he fails in his duty*** END OF SPOILER. Sorry. Also, Gavrouche is just the wildest, suaciest, and utterly filthy little raggamuffin that you simply have to love!!! When I learned who his parents were and what they (or rather his mother!) had done to him, I wanted to reach into the book and grab them (especially her) by the neck!!! Ugh! Disgusting people! Speaking of whom... The Thenardiers are abhorable, deplorable, disgusting, revolting, utterly malicious, and supercalifragilisticespialidocious in alll manners of evil!!! I can say with certain confidence that I HATE them! Well, not the entire family of course. I refer only to the Monsieur and Madame Thenardier. Most definately not their AMAZING daughter, Eponine. Eponine is a character that has added something wonderful to my life. No, I'm not being dramatic. I truly think she is a wonderful herione. In her filth I saw beauty; in her bad manners I saw poetry; in her sacrifice I saw a martyr. She was GREAT!!!! I sobbed and sobbed almost everytime they mentioned her after what happened at the barricades! She is my favorite character of the entire novel. All in all, they book is a GREAT read!!! I recommend it to EVERYONE!!! Perhaps there are those who believe the long passages of tedious details are boring, yet you simply cannot have Les Mis without all those rambling facts. It is how it is. Take it or leave it. But if you leave it, your missing out on something AWESOME!!! LIFE-CHANGING!
    • 3/5
      Victor Hugo must have been getting paid by the word cos this book was wayyyy to long. He went well overboard on descriptive crap that added nothing to the storyline. The only good thing about the book was that it filled in some of the blanks of the movie. It just reinforces my idea that the French speak too much and say very little.
    • 5/5
      Where do I begin? Maybe I should start with this: I love epic novels. There are not many therapies quite as effective as books with the ability to transport you out of your problems and into fictional ones. This book came at just the right time; half of it was read during a tumultous two week period in which my family moved slightly abruptly; the second half was devoured last month, while I recovered from some unexpected goodbye's. I started Les Miserables with high expectations, and was not disappointed. Victor Hugo is champion of the touching moment. He will spend chapter after chapter setting up every tiny detail for the perfect moment. I found myself having to stop multiple times, I could read no more because I was crying too hard. Please do not be intimidated by this. The title is "The Miserable," and Hugo isn't afraid to bring you down to the level of the lowest to show you what must be the depths of despair. But woven into these troubles and woes are themes of hope and redemption. Thus, the tears and sorrow I felt were of the most satisfying variety. It was those sweet little moments that make this novel so great. Victor Hugo is not afraid of spending adequate time to set things up for a devestating paragraph or shocking sentence. Victor Hugo is certainly not concerned about wasting your time. For example - he spends over four chapters describing the history of the sewer systems of Paris. Was it really necessary? Maybe some of us enjoy having this random bit of history to share with our naughty nerd friends. I wasn't quite so enthusiastic. I attempted to immerse myself in the quality of his writing, and forgive the putrid subject matter. We must allow these great novel writers some lee-way in this area. They spend so much time and thought masking their genius behind characters and intricate story plots. The greatest epic novels tend to have the longest diversions; if we take advantage of the treasure they have handed us, we must also submit ourselves to the occasional ramble. And when you realize exactly how smart this man is, you shan't mind submitting yourself to a (maybe) unnecessary diatribe. So we plow through the history of Parisian sewers and find ourselves in a climax worthy of the highest accolades. For those of you worried about the time and stamina it takes to make it through a 1000+ page novel, have no fear. The book is constantly progressing, becoming more and more beautiful with each succuesive chapter. Before I finish this perhaps conservative and certainly not over-exaggerated praise, I must mention the characters. To me, the characters are the most important element of any novel or work of prose. Hugo's characters were interesting. Although a few bordered cliche, they each had their fair share of peculiarities and were (to some extent) relatable. They certainly had not the four dimensional reality of Tolstoy, neither were they the caricatures of Dickens. Hugo found a lovely middle ground. Although his characters are life-like, they also seem to embody themes, ideas, and philosophies that play and interact within the story - creating a suprisingly interesting philosophical thought box. Kudos to the man- for creating a novel that will outlive every rebellion and continue to reach the multitude with a message of the existence of undying love.
    • 3/5
      At the heart of Les Misérables by Victor Hugo lies an endearing, larger-than-life tale about the redemption of a fallen man, but good luck soldiering through everything else. The main story, the one directly related to our protagonist, Jean Valjean, by way of characters Fantine, Javert, Cosette or Marius, is buried deep under the biggest heap of literary filler I have ever encountered in a book. I'm talking hundreds of pages of backstory for minor characters, places, military battles and cultural commentary. Hundreds. Of pages. Overall, Les Mis is very readable and elegant. It's like listening to a beloved professor's lecturing voice, never mind the content. Still, I'm not sure what to call all this unnecessary padding. Expositional stalling?
    • 5/5
      I got my copy of Victor Hugo's "Les Miserables" when I was in high school (more than 20 years ago) after seeing the musical. I know I tackled reading it, as there are pen marks in some of the margins, but I'm not terribly sure I ever finished it. With the release of the new (and excellent) movie, I thought this was the time to give it a reread. I'm ever so glad I did.... and I had no trouble finishing it this time. In fact, it was hard to put down.What you can you say about Hugo's epic that hasn't already been said? It's beautifully written with characters that leap off the page. The novel encompasses a huge amount of period French history, putting the characters in the thick of the action of some important (and unimportant events.) It is a story of redemption, of love, of suffering. The only criticism I can lodge is that some of Hugo's tangents go on a bit long... (I now know more than I ever need to about Waterloo, for example) and pull away from the story. At times I wondered if we were ever going to get back to Jean Valjean's story. Still, I can't help giving this five stars because I just loved the book enough to overlook that minor quibble. This is truly just a great book.
    • 4/5
      This version of Les Misérables is far plainer in content matter, but the plot and characters of this book are deeply involved and intertwined. Plainer in content is by no means a bad thing. In fact, by scrapping some of the distracting political and historical references that were originally printed to just get down to main plot was a smart move. My main complaint with the organization of this book is how jumpy the chapters seemed. One would follow one character’s vantage point, then the next would overlap storylines from another character’s view, then the next would take place years ahead but still relevant. The constant change in vantage point as well as time in space can make it difficult to follow, but not so much that it detracts from the plot. The word choice and sentence structure the author chose also add to its plainness. Although just because it used plain language and was a fast-paced book did not mean it lacked in an incredibly thick plot, deep characters, or heart-wrenching twists and turns. This book deals with the struggle of good and evil, love and loss, and everything in between. I highly recommend this book to any and every one. I give this book four out of five stars. I cannot imagine a reader setting this book down and not taking something away from it.Hannah M.
    • 4/5
      The story of the results of forgiveness and grace is powerful. I really grew to love, hate, pity, and otherwise empathize with the characters in this book. At times the writing was amazingly beautiful, at others the insights were hilarious or profound. All in all an excellent, mostly terribly sad book. However, reading the entirety of this unabridged version has really opened my eyes to the potential benefit of an abridged version of this, or other massive classic works. There were hundreds of pages in this book that could have been omitted without detriment to the story, in fact, not having to trudge through these parts may have made it more powerful by not losing the emotional pull of the story as we wade through 70+ pages on how nuns lived in certain convents (which convent I believe was given fewer pages of story than the historical exposition). I'd be afraid to have a child read the unabridged, lest I destroyed his love of books. :/
    • 4/5
      In this epic tale of 19th century France, Jean Valjean is an ex-convict mercilessly hunted by the police inspector, Javert. Over the course of nearly twenty years, Valjean continuously attempts to better himself and move beyond his past and in the course of his journey touches the lives of several individuals enveloped in the vicissitudes of poverty.A hefty tome, Victor Hugo's novel is rightfully a classic. His exploration of the character of Jean Valjean and the individuals who surround him is a fascinating read. France in the early 19th century is brilliantly evoked and Hugo is highly capable of writing beautiful prose and a riveting narrative. And some of his asides on society and humanity are an intriguing reflection of the conflict between the ideals of Romanticism and the influx of realism and humanism that emerged during the Industrial Revolution. That being said, the novel does have a few weaknesses. First, is the female characters whose moments of superficiality and stupidity, with Hugo rhapsodizing on the innocence and childlike nature of women, is enough to make you long for a Dickensian heroine. The other major flaw for a modern reader are the regular tangents that break up the flow of the narrative. An in-depth description of the battle of Waterloo and a brief history of the Paris sewers are significant offenders I could have done without. But these two flaws aside, which are signs of the novel's age, Les Misérables is a classic that should be experienced at least once.
    • 5/5
      It's always a daunting task to write a review of a book not only widely read but also extremely popular. Especially after one read of the primary text (and no knowledge whatsoever of the musical, aside from the minute or so of the previews shown for the upcoming release). So rather than wax poetic about Hugo's insanely thorough, beautiful writing as many others have done, let me simply give you my impression of Les Misérables.The first 10% or so of the Kindle edition that I read dealt primarily with a description of Bishop Myriel. About 5% in I was a bit confused, wondering why all this information was necessary for a character that, admitted by Hugo, was not an integral part of the book. However, I managed to fall in love with that sacrificing Bishop and felt I knew him so intimately that by the time Jean Valjean arrived on the scene, I could predict the good Bishops movements. And aside here, the letter and actions of the Bishops sister and housekeeper had me laughing and thoroughly enjoying myself, mostly because I, as an unmarried woman in today's society, would never have been able to so meekly assist my brother in that way.Jean Valjean - such a character. 19 years spent in horrific conditions all because he stole some bread. After his run-in with the Bishop, his encounter with Petit Gervais, and his arrival in Montreuil-sur-Mer I began to get an idea of why the Bishop was such an important character to begin the book with. It was a beautiful thing to see the changes being wrought in Valjean.And then there comes Fantine. Honestly, I think Fantine is my second favorite character of the book (second to Bishop Myriel, I really did love that old man). She is the perfect tragic figure: mother to a beautiful child, abandoned by her lover, trust-worthy to a fault, abused, neglected, self-sacrificing, and all of it unrewarded until she lay on her deathbed... but even then happiness is denied to her. As miserable as Valjeans life was throughout the book, I think Fantine's situation is what really gives weight to the title that Hugo chose.And from Fantine there comes Cosette. Although there is plenty in the book about the girl, and then the young woman Cosette, I came away with less of an impression of her than of the other characters. In fact, I felt more connected to Marius than Cosette - although that might have been simply because Cosette comes off as a bit of a wimp, not due to anything that Hugo does, necessarily. It's just strange to read about her passive behavior from a 21st century perspective.The only other main character I want to touch on is Javert. Javert was the epitome of fear to me. He had a nasty habit of always showing up in a city filled with people, leaving the correct impression that he and Valjean were connected in a way that could never be broken. I appreciated Hugo's treatment of the torment that filled Javert at the end of the book and thought that his story ended in a most fitting manner.Hugo spends time not telling the stories of these main characters by elaborating on everything from an incredibly detailed description of the Battle of Waterloo (of which I now know more information than I know how to deal with), slang, the street urchin or gamin, the sewers of Paris, religious orders, and politics. Of these I found Waterloo, the religious order description, and the information on slang to be the most interesting. I read the Hapgood translation of the book for Kindle, and was rewarded with a lengthy introduction and beautiful illustrations throughout the book that enhanced the reading. I laughed, cried, felt sympathy, and completely immersed myself in this story and came away from it feeling richer - and that feeling is how I know I just read something incredible.
    • 5/5
      A story about the French Revolution, following Jean Valjean, a former prisoner who broke parol to start a new life. When he becomes the mayor of a town, he is presented with many problems, including escaping the ever persistant Officer Javert, and granting the last wish of the prostitute, Fantine, to care for her daughter, Cosette. It follows his life from his release from prison, to his death after Cosette's marriage Marius.Though a slightly taxing read, because it is a classic, it is quite fascinating. It explores the ideas of 'right' and 'wrong' and all the different shades in between. Most of the characters, Valjean of course standing out the most, have conflicts on whether what they do is correct or not, and which descion is for the greater good.It was a worthwhile read, but not one for light readers. Being a classic, it contains complex language, and ideals not of this century. Perhaps I would reccomend this to those used to reading these kinds of books, or those who want to further study the story that the musical of the same name is based on.
    • 5/5
      This book is a challenge to get through, even in audiobook form. I had a basic familiarity with the story of Les Misérables from the musical of the same name.The depth of Jean Valjean's character and circumstances is so much greater than could ever be remotely given justice by the movie or any musical representation.I would recommend this for anyone who is in love with the story as presented by the musical. The original version of the story has a completely different dimension than any 2-3 hour production can present.The unabridged format is a bit unwieldy, but provides some measure of context, considering how far displaced we are from the original setting of the story.
    • 5/5
      I confess I read this after the musical become popular, but better late than never. Jean Valjean and his friends were well worth tackling the unedited version. As much as I am passionately in love with the musical, Hugo's account of his characters are better.
    • 4/5
      The author of the introduction I read in my edition of Les Miserables, Peter Washington, didn't seem to much admire the book or the author. He compared it unfavorably to Tolstoy's War and Peace and claimed that "Les Miserables rambles, there are huge digressions and absurdities of plot, the characters are often thin, the action melodramatic." I found that amusing because having recently read War and Peace I thought all that very much applied to Tolstoy's novel, and in more annoying ways that in Les Miserables. Maybe it's that I found Tolstoy's frequent digressions on the hive nature of history rather one-note. If Hugo digresses, at least it's on different subjects. Though yes, the narrative is even more long-winded than you'd expect from 19th Century Western literature. Hugo's one of those authors who won't use one adjective when he can pile up a dozen in one sentence. When Hugo defends using argot, the lingo of thieves, he makes a good point that professions like stockbrokers have an argot of their own, but not satisfied with this example, he goes on and on for an entire page where a brief sentence would have sufficed. Were you one of those people who complained about Ayn Rand's long speechifying in her novels? Well, she was an admirer of Hugo, and I suspect this is where she got the habit from. I would have happily taken a hatchet to the chapters on the rules of the Bernardine-Benedictines and there's really no excuse for spending that much wordage on the sewers of Paris. But with many of the digressions, even when I was impatient to get back to the mainline of the story, I found many of them worth reading. Skip the chapter "The Tail" in Melville's Moby Dick, and I don't think you'd miss much unless you find the anatomy of whales fascinating. Skip the second epilogue of Tolstoy's War and Peace in my opinion you miss only crank theorizing. But within a lot of those digressions in Les Miserables are insights into the spirit of the 19th century. Besides, I also rather prefer Hugo's characters to those of Tolstoy. Jean Valjean has the kind of largeness of character lacking in the cast of Tolstoy's historical novel to carry an epic. When Valjean first appears in the novel on page 66, he's been a galley slave for 19 years--initially sentenced because he stole a loaf of bread. Six years later he's a wealthy entrepreneur that lifted his town to prosperity and became its mayor, and likely would have continued to prosper were it not for Inspector Javert. And if Valjean is a hero worthy of an epic, than Javert makes a worthy villain, almost a force of nature, and interesting because he's above all motivated by devotion to the law. And for a full-on black villains, you can't do much better than Pere and Mere Thénardier. There are also vividly drawn secondary characters such as their children Gavroche and Eponine. (Even if I do agree with Jean Valjean that Marius, his adopted daughter's love interest, is a "booby." A good match for the ninny that is Cosette.) Yes, there are coincidences that stretch credibility and larger-than-life characters and melodramatic rhetorical flourishes. And at times Hugo's chauvinism, his aggrandizement of his nation--much more evident than in Tolstoy or Dickens or Hawthorne--raised an eyebrow. And I certainly don't share Hugo's enthusiasm for revolution, riots ("emeutes") and mobs and I'm to put it mildly, dubious about Hugo's vision of "Progress." I wondered at times, just how much of the melody, the poetry of the writing I missed reading the Wilbour translation. Some claim that if you don't like Hugo, it might be Wilbour's fault. But I certainly found this mammoth epic more interesting than the equally lengthy War and Peace and clumsy translation or not, one with many beautiful and quotable passages.
    • 5/5
      It exceeded my expectations. :))
    • 5/5
      I have just finnished reading this and i have to say that out of all the classics I've read this is right up there with the best.To be honest, just to look at the door-stopper of a book is rather daunting, but once I got over the physical size of it, Les Miserables was immensely enjoyable.Despite the length I found it to be a real page-turner. The story is exciting and filled with characters that you can emotionally invest in and the length only helps to enhance this. The only part I found hard going was the retelling of the battle of Waterloo which was, perhaps, one detail too far. Many have critisized Hugo's diversions and the over emphasis on his own opinions and digressions but personally I found them mostly to be both a charming quirk as well as an essential componant towards the overall impact of the story by enabling me to imagine the context of the setting in the novel. After all a novel of such epic proportions deserves to have an epic span of topics, context and thought provoking content. Les Miserables is crammed with broad ranging subjects such as philiosophy, ethics, economy, history, religion, love of all kinds, politics, relationships, and all this is vocalised via the beautiful prose that enabled me to completely immerse myself in that world.Above all the one thing that will remain with me from reading Les miserables is the characters. Wonderfully drawn and each memorable in their own way, I was constantly on edge, anticipating how their individual stories would play out.Hugo's tale is gripping, emotional, and above all intensely human and therefore something, I think, everyone can relate to.
    • 3/5
      I do well with voluminous classics: I'm a fan of The Count of Montecristo, War and Peace and The Sentimental Education and other longer novels. These are novels with a lot of genuine heart. Even Moby Dick, which I am ambivalent about because of the endless discourse on whales and whaling, engages me because of its startling originality. However, I could not get into Les Miserables. At every turn, Hugo digresses, and at great length. There are memorable passages... beautiful, memorable parts. But the characters did not come alive for me. As I see it, Les Miserables is one of the "important" novels that we most enjoy when we're very young, or because it was such a popular and important novel a hundred and fifty years ago. Like other longer works of literature, the novel also attracts readers who delight in the recreation of lost worlds. I wish I could have been one of those readers...because there's nothing like a great long book. Three stars because it's a classic and it's important...otherwise I'd give it two stars.
    • 3/5
      Um Cosette + Marius are annoying/boring. Javert and Valjean are interesting. The many chapters of history and background got on my nerves and weren’t good reads. The plot got meh later, esp given the over-focus on boring romance. A good adaptation could actually be better than the book. Though there aren’t especially strong female roles.
    • 5/5
      Les Miserables has everything. With the multiple plot lines and characters that everyone can relate to this book really appeals to everyone. It took me a LONG time to read this book, but it was worth every minute!
    • 5/5
      Les Miserables was a wonderful novel. The novel seemed to me to become a full circle in the end from when Jean Valjean was a convict to being a beloved hero who granted the love of his life, his daughter, what she previously had only shown him-love. It was a very passionate, real life story that touched millions including myself.
    • 5/5
      I finished much faster than I anticipated but I just couldn’t put it down. The last book had a lot of action as the students of Paris built a barricade and revolted. Our boy, Marius, finds himself in the middle of the fray which is not going in their favor. Jean Valjean arrives and helps him out a bit and manages to help out a few other citizens while he’s there because, well, that’s just the way he rolls. While trying to help Marius, Jean Valjean has a long coming chit chat with the pesky Javert and attempt to work out some of their issues. All the while Cosette sits by and waits.The book ends well for some and not so well for others which is about all I’m going to say. I loved it and will probably end up re-reading a few times. However I’ve been reading in e-book format on my laptop, which is less than pleasant and I won’t be doing that again. This is definitely a book I want to own so I’ll be going out and buying a REAL copy (I really dislike the term ‘dead tree book’ it’s so negative). I also think I’ll go for the abridged version and do without Hugo’s rambling. I don’t need the history lesson on France every time I want to read it. I would suggest to anyone thinking about giving it a read to just go for it. The first few chapters seem a little slow but it’s totally worth it to stick it out. At least I thought so.I did finally watch the movie last night after I finished and it was pretty good. They took liberties, changed things and left stuff out but I guess that’s to be expected. I hate when people say “I don’t need to read the book, I can just watch the movie”. Even the best movie adaptation is just a portion of the whole story. Sometimes it’s barely a glimpse of the goodness that lies within the book. I love movies as much as the next person but it’s good to go straight to the source. Movies are an enhancement, not a replacement for reading.
    • 4/5
      Victor Hugo's editors wanted to remove copious amounts of text. I agree with them, but I won't recommend buying an abridged version, for what *I* think should go out is not necessarily what the translators took out. Read this book and skip the extraneous details; Hugo took scenic detours often throughout this work. That out of the way, this book was stunning, beautiful, and ultimately uplifting, a "take that!" on behalf of the human spirit. Jean Valjean's battle to let the angel on his shoulder get the better of the demon on the other shoulder (metaphorically; nothing so crass appears in the book) provides the pivots on which the story turns. This is a book meant to be re-read; I believe it will say something new with each reading, especially as the stages of your life change.
    • 4/5
      It took me more than a month to finish this book, but I'm not complaining. The story was wonderful and intriguing and although it had a lot of history it was well worth the read. I fell in love with who Jean Valjean was and and almost prayed for him throughout the novel. Had to remind myself I was only reading a novel. Loved it!!
    • 5/5
      I can't express the sensations this book provoked in me. I thought I had read good books until I found this one. Jean Valljean, Fantine, Cossette... They showed me the meaning of living and dying in this unfair but beautiful world.

    Book preview

    Les Misérables - Victor Hugo

    Hugo

    Translated by Isabel F. Hapgood

    DailyLit Classics

    Contents

    LES MISÉRABLES

    VOLUME I.—FANTINE.

    PREFACE

    So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as the three great problems of the century—the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light—are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world;—in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of Les Misérables cannot fail to be of use.

    HAUTEVILLE HOUSE, 1862.

    BOOK FIRST—A JUST MAN

    CHAPTER I—M. MYRIEL

    In 1815, M. Charles-Francois-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D—— He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D—— since 1806.

    Although this detail has no connection whatever with the real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be superfluous, if merely for the sake of exactness in all points, to mention here the various rumors and remarks which had been in circulation about him from the very moment when he arrived in the diocese. True or false, that which is said of men often occupies as important a place in their lives, and above all in their destinies, as that which they do. M. Myriel was the son of a councillor of the Parliament of Aix; hence he belonged to the nobility of the bar. It was said that his father, destining him to be the heir of his own post, had married him at a very early age, eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this marriage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great deal of talk. He was well formed, though rather short in stature, elegant, graceful, intelligent; the whole of the first portion of his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry.

    The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, hunted down, were dispersed. M. Charles Myriel emigrated to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution. There his wife died of a malady of the chest, from which she had long suffered. He had no children. What took place next in the fate of M. Myriel? The ruin of the French society of the olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of '93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powers of terror,—did these cause the ideas of renunciation and solitude to germinate in him? Was he, in the midst of these distractions, these affections which absorbed his life, suddenly smitten with one of those mysterious and terrible blows which sometimes overwhelm, by striking to his heart, a man whom public catastrophes would not shake, by striking at his existence and his fortune? No one could have told: all that was known was, that when he returned from Italy he was a priest.

    In 1804, M. Myriel was the Curé of B—— [Brignolles]. He was already advanced in years, and lived in a very retired manner.

    About the epoch of the coronation, some petty affair connected with his curacy—just what, is not precisely known—took him to Paris. Among other powerful persons to whom he went to solicit aid for his parishioners was M. le Cardinal Fesch. One day, when the Emperor had come to visit his uncle, the worthy Curé, who was waiting in the anteroom, found himself present when His Majesty passed. Napoleon, on finding himself observed with a certain curiosity by this old man, turned round and said abruptly:—

    Who is this good man who is staring at me?

    Sire, said M. Myriel, you are looking at a good man, and I at a great man. Each of us can profit by it.

    That very evening, the Emperor asked the Cardinal the name of the Curé, and some time afterwards M. Myriel was utterly astonished to learn that he had been appointed Bishop of D——

    What truth was there, after all, in the stories which were invented as to the early portion of M. Myriel's life? No one knew. Very few families had been acquainted with the Myriel family before the Revolution.

    M. Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer in a little town, where there are many mouths which talk, and very few heads which think. He was obliged to undergo it although he was a bishop, and because he was a bishop. But after all, the rumors with which his name was connected were rumors only,—noise, sayings, words; less than words—palabres, as the energetic language of the South expresses it.

    However that may be, after nine years of episcopal power and of residence in D——, all the stories and subjects of conversation which engross petty towns and petty people at the outset had fallen into profound oblivion. No one would have dared to mention them; no one would have dared to recall them.

    M. Myriel had arrived at D—— accompanied by an elderly spinster, Mademoiselle Baptistine, who was his sister, and ten years his junior.

    Their only domestic was a female servant of the same age as Mademoiselle Baptistine, and named Madame Magloire, who, after having been the servant of M. le Curé, now assumed the double title of maid to Mademoiselle and housekeeper to Monseigneur.

    Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word respectable; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable. She had never been pretty; her whole life, which had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency; and as she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been leanness in her youth had become transparency in her maturity; and this diaphaneity allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a virgin. Her person seemed made of a shadow; there was hardly sufficient body to provide for sex; a little matter enclosing a light; large eyes forever drooping;—a mere pretext for a soul's remaining on the earth.

    Madame Magloire was a little, fat, white old woman, corpulent and bustling; always out of breath,—in the first place, because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma.

    On his arrival, M. Myriel was installed in the episcopal palace with the honors required by the Imperial decrees, which class a bishop immediately after a major-general. The mayor and the president paid the first call on him, and he, in turn, paid the first call on the general and the prefect.

    The installation over, the town waited to see its bishop at work.

    CHAPTER II—M. MYRIEL BECOMES M. WELCOME

    The episcopal palace of D—— adjoins the hospital.

    The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri Puget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbé of Simore, who had been Bishop of D—— in 1712. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air,—the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground-floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brulart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince d'Embrun; Antoine de Mesgrigny, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse; Philippe de Vendome, Grand Prior of France, Abbé of Saint Honore de Lerins; Francois de Berton de Crillon, bishop, Baron de Vence; Cesar de Sabran de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandeve; and Jean Soanen, Priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the king, bishop, Seignor of Senez. The portraits of these seven reverend personages decorated this apartment; and this memorable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letters of gold on a table of white marble.

    The hospital was a low and narrow building of a single story, with a small garden.

    Three days after his arrival, the Bishop visited the hospital. The visit ended, he had the director requested to be so good as to come to his house.

    Monsieur the director of the hospital, said he to him, how many sick people have you at the present moment?

    Twenty-six, Monseigneur.

    That was the number which I counted, said the Bishop.

    The beds, pursued the director, are very much crowded against each other.

    That is what I observed.

    The halls are nothing but rooms, and it is with difficulty that the air can be changed in them.

    So it seems to me.

    And then, when there is a ray of sun, the garden is very small for the convalescents.

    That was what I said to myself.

    In case of epidemics,—we have had the typhus fever this year; we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hundred patients at times,—we know not what to do.

    That is the thought which occurred to me.

    What would you have, Monseigneur? said the director. One must resign one's self.

    This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the ground-floor.

    The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned abruptly to the director of the hospital.

    Monsieur, said he, how many beds do you think this hall alone would hold?

    Monseigneur's dining-room? exclaimed the stupefied director.

    The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to be taking measures and calculations with his eyes.

    It would hold full twenty beds, said he, as though speaking to himself. Then, raising his voice:—

    Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something. There is evidently a mistake here. There are thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms. There are three of us here, and we have room for sixty. There is some mistake, I tell you; you have my house, and I have yours. Give me back my house; you are at home here.

    On the following day the thirty-six patients were installed in the Bishop's palace, and the Bishop was settled in the hospital.

    M. Myriel had no property, his family having been ruined by the Revolution. His sister was in receipt of a yearly income of five hundred francs, which sufficed for her personal wants at the vicarage. M. Myriel received from the State, in his quality of bishop, a salary of fifteen thousand francs. On the very day when he took up his abode in the hospital, M. Myriel settled on the disposition of this sum once for all, in the following manner. We transcribe here a note made by his own hand:—

    NOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MY HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES.

      For the little seminary . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    1,500 livres

      Society of the  mission . . . . . . . . . . . . . .      100   "

      For the Lazarists of Montdidier . . . . . . . . . .      100   "

      Seminary for foreign missions in Paris  . . . . . .      200   "

      Congregation of the Holy Spirit . . . . . . . . . .      150   "

      Religious establishments of the Holy Land . . . . .      100   "

      Charitable maternity societies  . . . . . . . . . .      300   "

      Extra, for that of Arles  . . . . . . . . . . . . .       50   "

      Work for the amelioration of prisons  . . . . . . .      400   "

      Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners . . .      500   "

      To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt  1,000   "

      Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the

           diocese  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    2,000   "

      Public granary of the Hautes-Alpes  . . . . . . . .      100   "

      Congregation of the ladies of D——, of Manosque, and of

           Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor

           girls  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    1,500   "

      For the poor  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    6,000   "

      My personal expenses  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .    1,000   "

                                                            ———

           Total  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   15,000   "

    M. Myriel made no change in this arrangement during the entire period that he occupied the see of D—— As has been seen, he called it regulating his household expenses.

    This arrangement was accepted with absolute submission by Mademoiselle Baptistine. This holy woman regarded Monseigneur of D—— as at one and the same time her brother and her bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him. When he spoke, she bowed; when he acted, she yielded her adherence. Their only servant, Madame Magloire, grumbled a little. It will be observed that Monsieur the Bishop had reserved for himself only one thousand livres, which, added to the pension of Mademoiselle Baptistine, made fifteen hundred francs a year. On these fifteen hundred francs these two old women and the old man subsisted.

    And when a village curate came to D——, the Bishop still found means to entertain him, thanks to the severe economy of Madame Magloire, and to the intelligent administration of Mademoiselle Baptistine.

    One day, after he had been in D—— about three months, the Bishop said:—

    And still I am quite cramped with it all!

    I should think so! exclaimed Madame Magloire. Monseigneur has not even claimed the allowance which the department owes him for the expense of his carriage in town, and for his journeys about the diocese. It was customary for bishops in former days.

    Hold! cried the Bishop, you are quite right, Madame Magloire.

    And he made his demand.

    Some time afterwards the General Council took this demand under consideration, and voted him an annual sum of three thousand francs, under this heading: Allowance to M. the Bishop for expenses of carriage, expenses of posting, and expenses of pastoral visits.

    This provoked a great outcry among the local burgesses; and a senator of the Empire, a former member of the Council of the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the town of D——, wrote to M. Bigot de Preameneu, the minister of public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the subject, from which we extract these authentic lines:—

    Expenses of carriage? What can be done with it in a town of less than four thousand inhabitants? Expenses of journeys? What is the use of these trips, in the first place? Next, how can the posting be accomplished in these mountainous parts? There are no roads. No one travels otherwise than on horseback. Even the bridge between Durance and Chateau-Arnoux can barely support ox-teams. These priests are all thus, greedy and avaricious. This man played the good priest when he first came. Now he does like the rest; he must have a carriage and a posting-chaise, he must have luxuries, like the bishops of the olden days. Oh, all this priesthood! Things will not go well, M. le Comte, until the Emperor has freed us from these black-capped rascals. Down with the Pope! [Matters were getting embroiled with Rome.] For my part, I am for Caesar alone. Etc., etc.

    On the other hand, this affair afforded great delight to Madame Magloire. Good, said she to Mademoiselle Baptistine; Monseigneur began with other people, but he has had to wind up with himself, after all. He has regulated all his charities. Now here are three thousand francs for us! At last!

    That same evening the Bishop wrote out and handed to his sister a memorandum conceived in the following terms:—

    EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT.

      For furnishing meat soup to the patients in the hospital. 1,500 livres

      For the maternity charitable society of Aix . . . . . . .   250   "

      For the maternity charitable society of Draguignan  . . .   250   "

      For foundlings  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   500   "

      For orphans   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   500   "

                                                                ——-

           Total  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3,000   "

    Such was M. Myriel's budget.

    As for the chance episcopal perquisites, the fees for marriage bans, dispensations, private baptisms, sermons, benedictions, of churches or chapels, marriages, etc., the Bishop levied them on the wealthy with all the more asperity, since he bestowed them on the needy.

    After a time, offerings of money flowed in. Those who had and those who lacked knocked at M. Myriel's door,—the latter in search of the alms which the former came to deposit. In less than a year the Bishop had become the treasurer of all benevolence and the cashier of all those in distress. Considerable sums of money passed through his hands, but nothing could induce him to make any change whatever in his mode of life, or add anything superfluous to his bare necessities.

    Far from it. As there is always more wretchedness below than there is brotherhood above, all was given away, so to speak, before it was received. It was like water on dry soil; no matter how much money he received, he never had any. Then he stripped himself.

    The usage being that bishops shall announce their baptismal names at the head of their charges and their pastoral letters, the poor people of the country-side had selected, with a sort of affectionate instinct, among the names and prenomens of their bishop, that which had a meaning for them; and they never called him anything except Monseigneur Bienvenu [Welcome]. We will follow their example, and will also call him thus when we have occasion to name him. Moreover, this appellation pleased him.

    I like that name, said he. Bienvenu makes up for the Monseigneur.

    We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is probable; we confine ourselves to stating that it resembles the original.

    CHAPTER III—A HARD BISHOPRIC FOR A GOOD BISHOP

    The Bishop did not omit his pastoral visits because he had converted his carriage into alms. The diocese of D—— is a fatiguing one. There are very few plains and a great many mountains; hardly any roads, as we have just seen; thirty-two curacies, forty-one vicarships, and two hundred and eighty-five auxiliary chapels. To visit all these is quite a task.

    The Bishop managed to do it. He went on foot when it was in the neighborhood, in a tilted spring-cart when it was on the plain, and on a donkey in the mountains. The two old women accompanied him. When the trip was too hard for them, he went alone.

    One day he arrived at Senez, which is an ancient episcopal city. He was mounted on an ass. His purse, which was very dry at that moment, did not permit him any other equipage. The mayor of the town came to receive him at the gate of the town, and watched him dismount from his ass, with scandalized eyes. Some of the citizens were laughing around him. Monsieur the Mayor, said the Bishop, and Messieurs Citizens, I perceive that I shock you. You think it very arrogant in a poor priest to ride an animal which was used by Jesus Christ. I have done so from necessity, I assure you, and not from vanity.

    In the course of these trips he was kind and indulgent, and talked rather than preached. He never went far in search of his arguments and his examples. He quoted to the inhabitants of one district the example of a neighboring district. In the cantons where they were harsh to the poor, he said: Look at the people of Briancon! They have conferred on the poor, on widows and orphans, the right to have their meadows mown three days in advance of every one else. They rebuild their houses for them gratuitously when they are ruined. Therefore it is a country which is blessed by God. For a whole century, there has not been a single murderer among them.

    In villages which were greedy for profit and harvest, he said: Look at the people of Embrun! If, at the harvest season, the father of a family has his son away on service in the army, and his daughters at service in the town, and if he is ill and incapacitated, the cure recommends him to the prayers of the congregation; and on Sunday, after the mass, all the inhabitants of the village—men, women, and children—go to the poor man's field and do his harvesting for him, and carry his straw and his grain to his granary. To families divided by questions of money and inheritance he said: Look at the mountaineers of Devolny, a country so wild that the nightingale is not heard there once in fifty years. Well, when the father of a family dies, the boys go off to seek their fortunes, leaving the property to the girls, so that they may find husbands. To the cantons which had a taste for lawsuits, and where the farmers ruined themselves in stamped paper, he said: Look at those good peasants in the valley of Queyras! There are three thousand souls of them. Mon Dieu! it is like a little republic. Neither judge nor bailiff is known there. The mayor does everything. He allots the imposts, taxes each person conscientiously, judges quarrels for nothing, divides inheritances without charge, pronounces sentences gratuitously; and he is obeyed, because he is a just man among simple men. To villages where he found no schoolmaster, he quoted once more the people of Queyras: Do you know how they manage? he said. Since a little country of a dozen or fifteen hearths cannot always support a teacher, they have school-masters who are paid by the whole valley, who make the round of the villages, spending a week in this one, ten days in that, and instruct them. These teachers go to the fairs. I have seen them there. They are to be recognized by the quill pens which they wear in the cord of their hat. Those who teach reading only have one pen; those who teach reading and reckoning have two pens; those who teach reading, reckoning, and Latin have three pens. But what a disgrace to be ignorant! Do like the people of Queyras!

    Thus he discoursed gravely and paternally; in default of examples, he invented parables, going directly to the point, with few phrases and many images, which characteristic formed the real eloquence of Jesus Christ. And being convinced himself, he was persuasive.

    CHAPTER IV—WORKS CORRESPONDING TO WORDS

    His conversation was gay and affable. He put himself on a level with the two old women who had passed their lives beside him. When he laughed, it was the laugh of a schoolboy. Madame Magloire liked to call him Your Grace [Votre Grandeur]. One day he rose from his arm-chair, and went to his library in search of a book. This book was on one of the upper shelves. As the bishop was rather short of stature, he could not reach it. Madame Magloire, said he, fetch me a chair. My greatness [grandeur] does not reach as far as that shelf.

    One of his distant relatives, Madame la Comtesse de Lo, rarely allowed an opportunity to escape of enumerating, in his presence, what she designated as the expectations of her three sons. She had numerous relatives, who were very old and near to death, and of whom her sons were the natural heirs. The youngest of the three was to receive from a grand-aunt a good hundred thousand livres of income; the second was the heir by entail to the title of the Duke, his uncle; the eldest was to succeed to the peerage of his grandfather. The Bishop was accustomed to listen in silence to these innocent and pardonable maternal boasts. On one occasion, however, he appeared to be more thoughtful than usual, while Madame de Lo was relating once again the details of all these inheritances and all these expectations. She interrupted herself impatiently: Mon Dieu, cousin! What are you thinking about? I am thinking, replied the Bishop, of a singular remark, which is to be found, I believe, in St. Augustine,—'Place your hopes in the man from whom you do not inherit.'

    At another time, on receiving a notification of the decease of a gentleman of the country-side, wherein not only the dignities of the dead man, but also the feudal and noble qualifications of all his relatives, spread over an entire page: What a stout back Death has! he exclaimed. What a strange burden of titles is cheerfully imposed on him, and how much wit must men have, in order thus to press the tomb into the service of vanity!

    He was gifted, on occasion, with a gentle raillery, which almost always concealed a serious meaning. In the course of one Lent, a youthful vicar came to D——, and preached in the cathedral. He was tolerably eloquent. The subject of his sermon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor, in order to avoid hell, which he depicted in the most frightful manner of which he was capable, and to win paradise, which he represented as charming and desirable. Among the audience there was a wealthy retired merchant, who was somewhat of a usurer, named M. Geborand, who had amassed two millions in the manufacture of coarse cloth, serges, and woollen galloons. Never in his whole life had M. Geborand bestowed alms on any poor wretch. After the delivery of that sermon, it was observed that he gave a sou every Sunday to the poor old beggar-women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. One day the Bishop caught sight of him in the act of bestowing this charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, There is M. Geborand purchasing paradise for a sou.

    When it was a question of charity, he was not to be rebuffed even by a refusal, and on such occasions he gave utterance to remarks which induced reflection. Once he was begging for the poor in a drawing-room of the town; there was present the Marquis de Champtercier, a wealthy and avaricious old man, who contrived to be, at one and the same time, an ultra-royalist and an ultra-Voltairian. This variety of man has actually existed. When the Bishop came to him, he touched his arm, You must give me something, M. le Marquis. The Marquis turned round and answered dryly, I have poor people of my own, Monseigneur. Give them to me, replied the Bishop.

    One day he preached the following sermon in the cathedral:—

    My very dear brethren, my good friends, there are thirteen hundred and twenty thousand peasants' dwellings in France which have but three openings; eighteen hundred and seventeen thousand hovels which have but two openings, the door and one window; and three hundred and forty-six thousand cabins besides which have but one opening, the door. And this arises from a thing which is called the tax on doors and windows. Just put poor families, old women and little children, in those buildings, and behold the fevers and maladies which result! Alas! God gives air to men; the law sells it to them. I do not blame the law, but I bless God. In the department of the Isere, in the Var, in the two departments of the Alpes, the Hautes, and the Basses, the peasants have not even wheelbarrows; they transport their manure on the backs of men; they have no candles, and they burn resinous sticks, and bits of rope dipped in pitch. That is the state of affairs throughout the whole of the hilly country of Dauphine. They make bread for six months at one time; they bake it with dried cow-dung. In the winter they break this bread up with an axe, and they soak it for twenty-four hours, in order to render it eatable. My brethren, have pity! behold the suffering on all sides of you!

    Born a Provencal, he easily familiarized himself with the dialect of the south. He said, En be! moussu, ses sage? as in lower Languedoc; Onte anaras passa? as in the Basses-Alpes; Puerte un bouen moutu embe un bouen fromage grase, as in upper Dauphine. This pleased the people extremely, and contributed not a little to win him access to all spirits. He was perfectly at home in the thatched cottage and in the mountains. He understood how to say the grandest things in the most vulgar of idioms. As he spoke all tongues, he entered into all hearts.

    Moreover, he was the same towards people of the world and towards the lower classes. He condemned nothing in haste and without taking circumstances into account. He said, Examine the road over which the fault has passed.

    Being, as he described himself with a smile, an ex-sinner, he had none of the asperities of austerity, and he professed, with a good deal of distinctness, and without the frown of the ferociously virtuous, a doctrine which may be summed up as follows:—

    "Man has upon him his flesh, which is at once his burden and his temptation. He drags it with him and yields to it. He must watch it, cheek it, repress it, and obey it only at the last extremity. There may be some fault even in this obedience; but the fault thus committed is venial; it is a fall, but a fall on the knees which may terminate in prayer.

    "To be a saint is the exception; to be an upright man is the rule. Err, fall, sin if you will, but be upright.

    The least possible sin is the law of man. No sin at all is the dream of the angel. All which is terrestrial is subject to sin. Sin is a gravitation.

    When he saw everyone exclaiming very loudly, and growing angry very quickly, Oh! oh! he said, with a smile; to all appearance, this is a great crime which all the world commits. These are hypocrisies which have taken fright, and are in haste to make protest and to put themselves under shelter.

    He was indulgent towards women and poor people, on whom the burden of human society rest. He said, The faults of women, of children, of the feeble, the indigent, and the ignorant, are the fault of the husbands, the fathers, the masters, the strong, the rich, and the wise.

    He said, moreover, Teach those who are ignorant as many things as possible; society is culpable, in that it does not afford instruction gratis; it is responsible for the night which it produces. This soul is full of shadow; sin is therein committed. The guilty one is not the person who has committed the sin, but the person who has created the shadow.

    It will be perceived that he had a peculiar manner of his own of judging things: I suspect that he obtained it from the Gospel.

    One day he heard a criminal case, which was in preparation and on the point of trial, discussed in a drawing-room. A wretched man, being at the end of his resources, had coined counterfeit money, out of love for a woman, and for the child which he had had by her. Counterfeiting was still punishable with death at that epoch. The woman had been arrested in the act of passing the first false piece made by the man. She was held, but there were no proofs except against her. She alone could accuse her lover, and destroy him by her confession. She denied; they insisted. She persisted in her denial. Thereupon an idea occurred to the attorney for the crown. He invented an infidelity on the part of the lover, and succeeded, by means of fragments of letters cunningly presented, in persuading the unfortunate woman that she had a rival, and that the man was deceiving her. Thereupon, exasperated by jealousy, she denounced her lover, confessed all, proved all.

    The man was ruined. He was shortly to be tried at Aix with his accomplice. They were relating the matter, and each one was expressing enthusiasm over the cleverness of the magistrate. By bringing jealousy into play, he had caused the truth to burst forth in wrath, he had educed the justice of revenge. The Bishop listened to all this in silence. When they had finished, he inquired,—

    Where are this man and woman to be tried?

    At the Court of Assizes.

    He went on, And where will the advocate of the crown be tried?

    A tragic event occurred at D—— A man was condemned to death for murder. He was a wretched fellow, not exactly educated, not exactly ignorant, who had been a mountebank at fairs, and a writer for the public. The town took a great interest in the trial. On the eve of the day fixed for the execution of the condemned man, the chaplain of the prison fell ill. A priest was needed to attend the criminal in his last moments. They sent for the cure. It seems that he refused to come, saying, That is no affair of mine. I have nothing to do with that unpleasant task, and with that mountebank: I, too, am ill; and besides, it is not my place. This reply was reported to the Bishop, who said, Monsieur le Curé is right: it is not his place; it is mine.

    He went instantly to the prison, descended to the cell of the mountebank, called him by name, took him by the hand, and spoke to him. He passed the entire day with him, forgetful of food and sleep, praying to God for the soul of the condemned man, and praying the condemned man for his own. He told him the best truths, which are also the most simple. He was father, brother, friend; he was bishop only to bless. He taught him everything, encouraged and consoled him. The man was on the point of dying in despair. Death was an abyss to him. As he stood trembling on its mournful brink, he recoiled with horror. He was not sufficiently ignorant to be absolutely indifferent. His condemnation, which had been a profound shock, had, in a manner, broken through, here and there, that wall which separates us from the mystery of things, and which we call life. He gazed incessantly beyond this world through these fatal breaches, and beheld only darkness. The Bishop made him see light.

    On the following day, when they came to fetch the unhappy wretch, the Bishop was still there. He followed him, and exhibited himself to the eyes of the crowd in his purple camail and with his episcopal cross upon his neck, side by side with the criminal bound with cords.

    He mounted the tumbril with him, he mounted the scaffold with him. The sufferer, who had been so gloomy and cast down on the preceding day, was radiant. He felt that his soul was reconciled, and he hoped in God. The Bishop embraced him, and at the moment when the knife was about to fall, he said to him: God raises from the dead him whom man slays; he whom his brothers have rejected finds his Father once more. Pray, believe, enter into life: the Father is there. When he descended from the scaffold, there was something in his look which made the people draw aside to let him pass. They did not know which was most worthy of admiration, his pallor or his serenity. On his return to the humble dwelling, which he designated, with a smile, as his palace, he said to his sister, I have just officiated pontifically.

    Since the most sublime things are often those which are the least understood, there were people in the town who said, when commenting on this conduct of the Bishop, It is affectation.

    This, however, was a remark which was confined to the drawing-rooms. The populace, which perceives no jest in holy deeds, was touched, and admired him.

    As for the Bishop, it was a shock to him to have beheld the guillotine, and it was a long time before he recovered from it.

    In fact, when the scaffold is there, all erected and prepared, it has something about it which produces hallucination. One may feel a certain indifference to the death penalty, one may refrain from pronouncing upon it, from saying yes or no, so long as one has not seen a guillotine with one's own eyes: but if one encounters one of them, the shock is violent; one is forced to decide, and to take part for or against. Some admire it, like de Maistre; others execrate it, like Beccaria. The guillotine is the concretion of the law; it is called vindicte; it is not neutral, and it does not permit you to remain neutral. He who sees it shivers with the most mysterious of shivers. All social problems erect their interrogation point around this chopping-knife. The scaffold is a vision. The scaffold is not a piece of carpentry; the scaffold is not a machine; the scaffold is not an inert bit of mechanism constructed of wood, iron and cords.

    It seems as though it were a being, possessed of I know not what sombre initiative; one would say that this piece of carpenter's work saw, that this machine heard, that this mechanism understood, that this wood, this iron, and these cords were possessed of will. In the frightful meditation into which its presence casts the soul the scaffold appears in terrible guise, and as though taking part in what is going on. The scaffold is the accomplice of the executioner; it devours, it eats flesh, it drinks blood; the scaffold is a sort of monster fabricated by the judge and the carpenter, a spectre which seems to live with a horrible vitality composed of all the death which it has inflicted.

    Therefore, the impression was terrible and profound; on the day following the execution, and on many succeeding days, the Bishop appeared to be crushed. The almost violent serenity of the funereal moment had disappeared; the phantom of social justice tormented him. He, who generally returned from all his deeds with a radiant satisfaction, seemed to be reproaching himself. At times he talked to himself, and stammered lugubrious monologues in a low voice. This is one which his sister overheard one evening and preserved: I did not think that it was so monstrous. It is wrong to become absorbed in the divine law to such a degree as not to perceive human law. Death belongs to God alone. By what right do men touch that unknown thing?

    In course of time these impressions weakened and probably vanished. Nevertheless, it was observed that the Bishop thenceforth avoided passing the place of execution.

    M. Myriel could be summoned at any hour to the bedside of the sick and dying. He did not ignore the fact that therein lay his greatest duty and his greatest labor. Widowed and orphaned families had no need to summon him; he came of his own accord. He understood how to sit down and hold his peace for long hours beside the man who had lost the wife of his love, of the mother who had lost her child. As he knew the moment for silence he knew also the moment for speech. Oh, admirable consoler! He sought not to efface sorrow by forgetfulness, but to magnify and dignify it by hope. He said:—

    Have a care of the manner in which you turn towards the dead. Think not of that which perishes. Gaze steadily. You will perceive the living light of your well-beloved dead in the depths of heaven. He knew that faith is wholesome. He sought to counsel and calm the despairing man, by pointing out to him the resigned man, and to transform the grief which gazes upon a grave by showing him the grief which fixes its gaze upon a star.

    CHAPTER V—MONSEIGNEUR BIENVENU MADE HIS CASSOCKS LAST TOO LONG

    The private life of M. Myriel was filled with the same thoughts as his public life. The voluntary poverty in which the Bishop of D—— lived, would have been a solemn and charming sight for any one who could have viewed it close at hand.

    Like all old men, and like the majority of thinkers, he slept little. This brief slumber was profound. In the morning he meditated for an hour, then he said his mass, either at the cathedral or in his own house. His mass said, he broke his fast on rye bread dipped in the milk of his own cows. Then he set to work.

    A Bishop is a very busy man: he must every day receive the secretary of the bishopric, who is generally a canon, and nearly every day his vicars-general. He has congregations to reprove, privileges to grant, a whole ecclesiastical library to examine,—prayer-books, diocesan catechisms, books of hours, etc.,—charges to write, sermons to authorize, cures and mayors to reconcile, a clerical correspondence, an administrative correspondence; on one side the State, on the other the Holy See; and a thousand matters of business.

    What time was left to him, after these thousand details of business, and his offices and his breviary, he bestowed first on the necessitous, the sick, and the afflicted; the time which was left to him from the afflicted, the sick, and the necessitous, he devoted to work. Sometimes he dug in his garden; again, he read or wrote. He had but one word for both these kinds of toil; he called them gardening. The mind is a garden, said he.

    Towards mid-day, when the weather was fine, he went forth and took a stroll in the country or in town, often entering lowly dwellings. He was seen walking alone, buried in his own thoughts, his eyes cast down, supporting himself on his long cane, clad in his wadded purple garment of silk, which was very warm, wearing purple stockings inside his coarse shoes, and surmounted by a flat hat which allowed three golden tassels of large bullion to droop from its three points.

    It was a perfect festival wherever he appeared. One would have said that his presence had something warming and luminous about it. The children and the old people came out to the doorsteps for the Bishop as for the sun. He bestowed his blessing, and they blessed him. They pointed out his house to any one who was in need of anything.

    Here and there he halted, accosted the little boys and girls, and smiled upon the mothers. He visited the poor so long as he had any money; when he no longer had any, he visited the rich.

    As he made his cassocks last a long while, and

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