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J U L Y 1 8 6 2
Fantine, by Victor Hugo
A review by Edwin Percy Whipple
Fantine, the first of five novels under the
general title of Les Misérables has produced an impression all over Europe, and we already hear
of nine translations. It has evidently been "engineered" with immense energy by
the French publisher. Translations have appeared in numerous languages almost
simultaneously with its publication in Paris. Every resource of bookselling
ingenuity has been exhausted in order to make every human being who can read
think that the salvation of his body and soul depends on his reading Les
Misérables. The glory and the obloquy of the author have both been
forced into aids to a system of puffing at which Barnum himself would stare
amazed, and confess that he had never conceived of a "a dodge" in which
literary genius and philanthropy could be allied with the grossest bookselling
humbug. But we trust, that, after our American showman has recovered from his
first shock of surprise, he will vindicate the claim of America to be
considered the "first nation on the face of the earth," by immediately offering
Dickens a hundred thousand dollars to superintend his exhibition of dogs, and
Florence Nightingale a half a million to appear at his exhibition of babies.
The French bookseller also piqued the curiosity of the universal public by a
story that Victor Hugo wrote Les Misérables twenty-five years
ago, but, being bound to give a certain French publisher all his works after
his first celebrated novel, he would not delight the world with this product of
his genius until he had forced the said publisher into a compliance with his
terms. The publisher shrank aghast from the sum which the author demanded, and
this sum was yearly increased in amount, as years rolled away and as Victor
Hugo's reputation grew more splendid. At last the publisher died, probably from
vexation, and Victor Hugo was free. Then he condescended to allow the present
publisher to issue Les Misérables on the payment of eighty
thousand dollars. It is not surprising, that, to get his money back, this
publisher has been compelled to resort to tricks which exceed everything known
in the whole history of literature.
Fantine, therefore, comes before us, externally, as the most desperate
of book-selling speculations. The publisher, far from drinking his wine out of
the skull of his author, is in danger of having neither wine nor ordinary cup,
and is forced into the most reckless charlatanerie to save himself from utter
ruin and complete loss of the generous fluid. Internally, Fantine comes
before us as an attempt both to include and to supersede the Christian
religion. Wilkinson, in a preface to one of his books, stated that he thought
that "Christendom was not the error of which Chapmandom was the
correction,"--Chapman being then the English publisher of a number of skeptical
books. In the same way we may venture to affirm that Christendom is not the
beginning of which Hugoism is the complement and end. We think that the
revelation made by the publisher of Les Misérables sadly
interferes with the revelation made by Victor Hugo. Saint Paul may be inferior
to Saint Hugo, but everybody will admit that Saint Paul would not have
hesitated a second in deciding, in the publication of his epistles, between the
good of mankind and his own remuneration. Saint Hugo confessedly waited
twenty-five years before he published his new gospel. The salvation of Humanity
had to be deferred until the French saviour received his eighty thousand
dollars. At last a book-selling Barnum appears, pays the price, and a morality
which utterly eclipses that of Saint Paul is given to an expectant world.
This morality, sold for eighty thousand dollars, is represented by Bishop
Myriel. The character is drawn with great force, and is full both of direct and
subtle satire on the worldliness of ordinary chuchmen. The portion of the work
in which it figures contains many striking sayings. Thus, we are told, that,
when the Bishop "had money, his visits were to the poor; when he had none, he
visited the rich." "Ask not," he said, "the name of him who asks you for a bed;
it is especially he whose name is a burden to him who has need of an asylum."
This man, who embodies all the virtues, carries his goodness so far as to
receive into his house a criminal whom all honest houses reject, and, when
robbed by his infamous guest, saves the life of the latter by telling the
officers who had apprehended the thief that he had given him the silver. This
so works on the criminal's conscience, that, like Peter Bell, he "becomes a
good and pious man," starts a manufactory, becomes rich, and uses his wealth
for benevolent purposes. Fantine, the heroine, after having been seduced by a
Parisian student, comes to work in his factory. She has a child that she
supports by her labor. This fact is discovered by some female gossip, and she
is dismissed from the factory as an immoral woman, and descends to the lowest
depths of prostitution,--still for the purpose of supporting her child. Jean
Valjean, the reformed criminal, discovers her, is made aware that her
debasement is the result of the act of his foreman, and takes her, half dead
with misery and sickness, to his own house. Meanwhile he learns that an
innocent person, by being confounded with himself, is in danger of being
punished for his former deeds. He flies from the bedside of Fantine, appears
before the court, announces himself as the criminal, is arrested, but in the
end escapes from the officers who have him in charge. Fantine dies. Her child
is to be the heroine of Novel Number Two of Les Misérables, and
will doubtless have as miserable an end as her mother.
From the bare abstract, the story does not seem to promise much pleasure to
novel-readers, yet it is all alive with the fiery genius of Victor Hugo, and
the whole representation is so intense and vivid that it is impossible to
escape from the fascination it exerts over the mind. Few who take the book up
will leave it until they have read it through. It is morbid to a degree that no
eminent English author, not even Lord Byron, ever approached; but its morbid
elements are so combined with sentiments abstractly Christian that it is
calculated to wield a more pernicious influence than Byron ever exerted. Its
tendency is to weaken that abhorrence of crime which is the great shield of
most of the virtue which society possesses, and it does this by attempting to
prove that society itself is responsible for crimes it cannot prevent, but can
only punish. To legislators, to Magdalen societies, to prison-reformers, it may
suggest many useful hints; but, considered as a passionate romance, appealing
to the sympathies of the ordinary readers of novels, it will do infinitely more
harm than good. The bigotries of virtue are better than the charities of vice.
On the whole, therefore, we think that Victor Hugo, when he stood out
twenty-five years for his price, did a service to the human race. The great
value of his new gospel consisted in its not being published. We wish that
another quarter of a century had elapsed before it found a bookseller capable
of venturing on so reckless a speculation.
Edwin Percy Whipple, The Atlantic Monthly, July 1862.
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