Part 8 (1/2)

A few days subsequent to this performance the members of the Parisian press gave a grand banquet to Victor Hugo at the Hotel Continental. The speech of welcome and honour to the poet was delivered by M. emile Augier, himself a writer of considerable reputation. After referring to the marvellous vitality of Victor Hugo's poems and romances, the speaker said: 'Time, O glorious master, takes no hold upon you; you know nothing of decline; you pa.s.s through every stage of life without diminis.h.i.+ng your virility; for more than half a century your genius has covered the world with the unceasing flow of its tide. The resistance of the first period, the rebellion of the second, have melted away into universal admiration, and the last refractory spirits have yielded to your power.... When La Bruyere before the Academy hailed Bossuet as father of the Church, he was speaking the language of posterity, and it is posterity itself, n.o.ble master, that surrounds you here, and hails you as our father.'

At the word 'father' the whole audience rose, and took up the salutation. When quiet was restored M. Delaunay suggested that the poet should be solicited for a new dramatic work. The enthusiasm was renewed at this suggestion, and it may well be imagined that the acclamations reached their culminating point when Sarah Bernhardt rose and embraced the aged author of _Hernani_. On this occasion Victor Hugo read his address of thanks, which was brief and pregnant in its allusions.

'Before me I see the press of France,' said Hugo. 'The worthies who represent it here have endeavoured to prove its sovereign concord, and to demonstrate its indestructible unity. You have a.s.sembled to grasp the hand of an old campaigner, who began life with the century, and lives with it still. I am deeply touched. I tender you all my thanks. All the n.o.ble words that we have just been hearing only add to my emotion. There are dates that seem to be periodically repeated with marked significance. The 26th of February, 1802, was my birthday; in 1830 it was the time of the first appearance of _Hernani_; and this again is the 26th of February, 1880. Fifty years ago, I, who am now here speaking to you, was hated, hooted, slandered, cursed. Today, to-day--but the date is enough. Gentlemen, the French press is one of the mistresses of the human intellect; it has its daily task, and that task is gigantic. In every minute of every hour it has its influence upon every portion of the civilized world; its struggles, its disputes, its wrath resolve themselves into progress, harmony, and peace. In its premeditations it aims at truth; from its polemics it flashes forth light. I propose as my toast the prosperity of the French press, the inst.i.tution that fosters such n.o.ble designs, and renders such n.o.ble services.'

On the 27th of December, 1880, there was a grand festival at Besancon in honour of the poet, its most ill.u.s.trious son. The chief inhabitants of the town, and the visitors from Paris, a.s.sembled at the Mairie, and proceeded thence to the Place St. Quentin. The Mayor was accompanied by M. Rambaud, chief secretary to the Minister of Public Instruction, and General Wolff, commander of the _Corps d'Armee_. There were also present deputations from the Senate and the Chamber of Deputies, officers, university professors, a representative of the President of the Republic, the Rector of the Academy, the Prefect, the Munic.i.p.al Councillors, and a large body of members of the press. The poet was represented by M. Paul Meurice. The whole of Besancon was _en fete_. In a street facing the Place St. Quentin a large platform had been erected, and here the proceedings took place. A beautiful medallion affixed to a house near the platform was uncovered by the Mayor. This medallion represented a five-stringed lyre with two laurel branches of gold, and there was an inscription which, by the poet's express desire, consisted simply of his name and the date of his birth--'Victor Hugo: 26th of February, 1802.' The lyre was surmounted by a head typical of the Republic, encircled by rays. The procession adjourned from the Place St.

Quentin to the stage at the Besancon Theatre, in the centre of which had been placed David's bust of Victor Hugo. At the request of the Mayor, M.

Rambaud delivered an address upon the poet's character and genius. He recited the history of his struggles and of his literary conflicts, and of the gradual attainment of victory over thought and intellect; descanted upon his ever-increasing influence, his development as a politician, his internal conflicts, and his final triumph; described his prolonged duel with the Empire, and his ultimate success; reviewed the leading characteristics of his lyrical, dramatic, and historical writings; and finally demonstrated how, after a life fraught with conflicts, trials, and sorrows, he found his reward in the revival of France, in the progress of democracy; and last, though not least, in the peaceful joys of domestic life and the society of his grandchildren.

To this address M. Paul Meurice responded, and read the following letter from Victor Hugo himself: 'It is with deep emotion that I tender my thanks to my compatriots. I am a stone on the road that is trodden by humanity; but that road is a good one. Man is master neither of his life nor of his death. He can but offer to his fellow-citizens his efforts to diminish human suffering; he can but offer to G.o.d his indomitable faith in the growth of liberty.' The marble bust of the poet was crowned with a wreath of golden laurel, and while the whole audience stood, a band of one hundred and fifty musicians performed the _Ma.r.s.eillaise_. Cries of '_Vive Victor Hugo! Vive la Republique!_' were heard as the audience left the theatre.

An ovation such as few sovereigns have ever received was accorded to Victor Hugo by the City of Paris on the 27th of February, 1881. The day before, the poet had completed his seventy-ninth year, and by the French people this is regarded as ent.i.tling to octogenarian honours. A celebration took place which was compared with the reception of Voltaire in 1788. The Avenue d'Eylau, where Victor Hugo resided, was densely thronged, and the poet, being recognised with his children and grandchildren at an upper window of his house, was cheered by a vast mult.i.tude, estimated by unsympathetic observers at 100,000. The Munic.i.p.ality had erected at the entrance to the Avenue lofty flagstaffs decorated with s.h.i.+elds bearing the t.i.tles of his works, and supporting a large drapery inscribed '1802, Victor Hugo, 1881.' Early in the morning the Avenue was thronged with processions consisting of collegians, trades unions, musical and benefit societies, deputations from the districts of Paris and from the provinces, etc. A deputation of children, bearing a blue and red banner with the inscription, '_L'Art d'etre Grand-pere_,' and headed by a little girl in white, arrived at the house, and was received by Victor Hugo in the drawing-room. The little maiden, who recited some lines by M. Mendes, was blessed by the venerable poet. Among other incidents of the day, the Paris Munic.i.p.ality drew up in front of the house, and Victor Hugo read to them the following speech: 'I greet Paris, I greet the city. I greet it not in my name, for I am naught, but in the name of all that lives, reasons, thinks, loves, and hopes on earth. Cities are blessed places; they are the workshops of Divine labour. Divine labour is human labour. It remains human so long as it is individual; as soon as it is collective, as its object is greater than its worker, it becomes Divine. The labour of the fields is human; the labour of the towns is Divine. From time to time history places a sign upon a city. That sign is unique. History in 4,000 years has thus marked three cities, which sum up the whole effort of civilization. What Athens did for Greek antiquity, what Rome did for Roman antiquity, Paris is doing to-day for Europe, for America, for the civilized universe. It is the city of the world. Who addresses Paris addresses the whole world, _urbi et orbi_. I, a humble pa.s.ser-by, who have but my share in your rights, in the name of all cities, of the cities of Europe, of America, of the civilized world, from Athens to New York, from London to Moscow; in thy name, Rome; in thine, Berlin--I praise, with love I hail, the hallowed city, Paris.'

A stream of processions then filed past the house, many of them bearing imposing bouquets, which were deposited in front of Hugo's residence.

The musical societies alone exceeded 100; strains of the _Ma.r.s.eillaise_ were now and again audible, and the entire Avenue, nearly a mile long, was thickly lined with spectators, while that part of it commanding a view of the poet's house was densely packed, except for a pa.s.sage-way for the processions. Medals and photographs of the hero of the day were to be seen everywhere, and the behaviour of the enormous a.s.semblage was most exemplary. Victor Hugo, whose love of the fresh air always made him careless of exposure, remained at the open window for several hours bareheaded, acknowledging the greetings of the successive deputations and of the mult.i.tude. At the Trocadero a musical and literary festival was held, when selections from Victor Hugo's works were sung or recited by some of the leading Paris _artistes_, and the _Ma.r.s.eillaise_ was performed by a military band. M. Louis Blanc, who presided, said that few great men had entered in their lifetime into their immortality.

Voltaire and Victor Hugo had both deserved this, one for stigmatizing religious intolerance, the other for having, with incomparable l.u.s.tre, served humanity. He commended the committee for inviting the co-operation of men of different opinions, for genius united in a common admiration men otherwise at discord, and the idea of union was inseparable from a grand festival. 'There were enough days in the year given to what separated men. It was well to give a few hours to what brought them together, and there could be no better opportunity than the festival of an unrivalled poet, an eloquent apostle of human brotherhood, whose use of his genius was greater than his genius itself, the oneness of his life consisting in the constant ascent of his spirit towards the light.' In the evening of the day there was a Victor Hugo concert at the Conservatoire, and at many of the theatres verses were recited in his honour. On the night of the 25th a special performance was given at the Gaite of _Lucrece Borgia_, which had not been produced for ten years. The house was filled, all the notabilities of Paris being present, while the poet himself also appeared for a short time. The celebration generally was one triumphant success.

In honour of Hugo's eightieth birthday, on the 26th of February, 1882, the French Government ordered a free performance of _Hernani_ at the Theatre Francais. Crowds stood outside for hours waiting for admission, and 2,300 persons managed to squeeze themselves into seats intended to accommodate only 1,500. The poet and his grandchildren were present during the last act, and were loudly applauded. Hugo's bust was placed on the stage at the close of the piece, and verses in his honour by M.

Coppee were recited. On the preceding evening 5,000 persons had attended his reception, when the committee of the previous year's grand celebration presented him with a bronze miniature of Michael Angelo's 'Moses.' In acknowledging the gift, the poet said, 'I accept your present, and I await a still better one, the greatest a man can receive: I mean death--death, that recompense for the good done on earth. I shall live in my descendants, my grandchildren, Jeanne and Georges. If, indeed, I have a narrow-minded thought it is for them. I wish to ensure their future, and I confide them to the protection of all the loyal and devoted hearts here present.'

Yet one more celebration I must notice. On the 22nd of November, 1882, the Theatre Francais gave a brilliant performance of Victor Hugo's _Le Roi s'Amuse_. It has already been seen that this piece was first produced on the 22nd of November, 1832, amid such a scene of disorder and tumult that the Government forbade its further representation. From that time forward it had never been produced until this fiftieth anniversary in 1882. It was the subject of preliminary conversation for weeks in Paris, and great anxiety was manifested on the subject of seats. It was stated that if the house, which had only provision for 1,500 persons, could have been made to accommodate 10,000, there would still have been an insufficiency of places to satisfy all the supplications with which the Theatre Francais was besieged. The intrinsic value of the work, however, was not the first thought of those who engaged in the feverish quest for seats, which for a full month possessed all fas.h.i.+onable, artistic, literary, political, diplomatic, and financial Paris. It was chiefly the desire to do honour to the veteran poet. With regard to the representation itself, the splendour of the mounting, the beauty of the accessories, and the historical fidelity of the costumes, transcended all expectation. Never was a piece placed on the stage with greater, or indeed probably equal, art.

CHAPTER XIX.

PERSONAL AND MISCELLANEOUS.

In private life and character, it is well known that Victor Hugo was one of the n.o.blest and most unselfish of men. Numberless are the anecdotes related of his generosity and kindliness of disposition. His children's repasts at Hauteville House, Guernsey, and his hospitality to the suffering and distressed in Paris, I have already alluded to. He had a special talent for organizing Christmas parties, and was never happier than when surrounded by his grandchildren. He mingled in all their games, and even shared their troubles and their punishments. When his favourite little grandchild was put on dry bread for bad conduct, the grandfather was so unhappy that he would take no dessert. His pleasures were as simple as his mind was great. The writer who furnishes me with these details warmly contradicted the statement that Victor Hugo was an infidel; on the contrary, he was a firm believer in G.o.d and in a future state; and this, as we have seen, the poet himself confirmed. Even when in his octogenarian period it was the poet's habit to rise with the day, summer and winter, and to work until nine. He then allowed himself an hour's rest for breakfast and his morning const.i.tutional, after which he again sat at his desk, mostly pursuing his intellectual labours, till five in the afternoon. Work being concluded, he dined at half-past six, and invariably retired to rest at ten. On one occasion, speaking of his future works, the poet said, 'I shall have more to do than I have already done. One would think that with age the mind weakens; with me it appears, on the contrary, to grow stronger. The horizon gets larger, and I shall pa.s.s away without having finished my task.'

On one occasion, a poor old woman was so delighted with the poetry of her grandson, aged eighteen, that in the fulness of her heart she sent his verses to Victor Hugo. The poet thus spoke of this incident to a friend--'In spite of myself, I must hurt this worthy woman's feelings by not replying to her letter; the verses of her grandson are simply mine, taken from _Les Contemplations_. I can't anyhow write to say I find my own verses beautiful--I can't encourage plagiarism; and I won't tell the grandmother that her grandson is a liar.'

Much has been written concerning Hugo's skill as a draughtsman. It appears that this own discovery of his powers in this direction was made in a little village near Meulan, where he stopped to change horses, when travelling with a lady in a diligence. He went inside the village church, and was so struck by the graceful beauty of the apse that he made an attempt to copy some of the details, using his hat as an easel.

He obtained a fair _souvenir_ of the place, and for the first time realized how beneficially copying from nature might be combined with his literary pursuits. After that he always delighted in sketching architectural peculiarities of fabrics which remained in the original design, and had not been 'improved' by modern handling.

He never took artistic lessons, but by constant practice he acquired considerable facility in representing a certain cla.s.s of subjects, ruined castles with deep shadows, gloomy landscapes, stormy skies, etc.

M. Ph. Burty and several writers and artists of the first cla.s.s have expressed their admiration of his artistic work, and its striking effects. His drawings were chiefly ill.u.s.trative of his own thoughts.

They were employed either to develop his poems, or to serve as pictorial commentaries upon his own literary creations. Theophile Gautier wrote: 'M. Hugo is not only a poet, he is a painter, and a painter whom Louis Boulanger, C. Roqueplan, or Paul Huet would not refuse to own as a brother in art. Whenever he travels he makes sketches of everything that strikes the eye. The outline of the hill, a break in the horizon, an old belfry--any of these will suffice for the subject of a rough drawing, which the same evening will see worked up well-nigh to the finish of an engraving, and the object of unbounded surprise even to the most accomplished artists.' M. Castel collected many of Hugo's early drawings into an alb.u.m, and published them with the object of furthering the poet's work among poor children. Theophile Gautier supplied an introduction to the alb.u.m, and it had an excellent sale. A number of land and sea pieces, bearing Hugo's signature, pa.s.sed into the possession of M. Auguste Vacquerie. The poet prepared a set of ill.u.s.trations for his _Les Travailleurs de la Mer_, and a second alb.u.m, consisting of miscellaneous ill.u.s.trations by Hugo, has also been prepared. Many of his sketches were left in Hauteville House, and M.

Paul Meurice, Madame Lockroy, and Madame Drouet came into possession of others. Victor Hugo himself sat for a great number of portraits between his twenty-fifth and his seventy-seventh year, and he was likewise the subject of numerous caricatures. These portraits and caricatures were edited and published by M. Bouvenne. A very sumptuous volume is M.

Blemont's _Livre d'Or_ of Victor Hugo, containing beautiful ill.u.s.trations by eminent artists, suggested by his poems and romances.

During the latter years of his life Victor Hugo resided in the quarter already mentioned, the Avenue d'Eylau (near the Bois de Boulogne), whose name, out of compliment to the poet, has been changed by the Munic.i.p.ality of Paris into the Avenue Victor Hugo. The house is semi-detached, and adjoins that occupied by M. and Madame Lockroy and Georges and Jeanne. A communication between the two residences, however, brought the whole of the family practically under the same roof. The house is three stories high, and the poet's study was on the first floor, where he lived in a kind of bower, looking out upon one side in the direction of the Avenue, and on the other towards a pleasant garden, with a lawn surrounded by flowers and shaded by n.o.ble trees. The daily post to Hugo's house was an important matter, for he had a stream of communications from all parts of the world. If a poetaster in America or Australia thought he possessed immortal genius he could not rest content until he had received, or at least attempted to obtain, Victor Hugo's imprimatur. There were many things the kindly veteran would smooth over in order not to wound sensitive minds bitten with the _cacoethes scribendi_. The poet was also very accessible to personal callers, so much so that it was said you had only to put on a black coat, pull at his bell, and there you were. Sometimes his good-nature was imposed upon, as will happen with all men, little or great. An amusing story is told of a cabman who, after driving the poet one day, refused to take the fare, on the ground that the honour of having Victor Hugo in his vehicle was a sufficient reward. The author of _Notre-Dame_ asked his admiring Jehu to dinner; but when the meal was over, and Hugo might naturally have thought they could cry quits, the guest drew a ma.n.u.script from his pocket with the ominous words, 'I also am a poet!'

Greatness is thus not without its penalties.

A good deal of interest attaches to Victor Hugo's ma.n.u.scripts. Madame Drouet was the poet's literary secretary for thirty years, and during all that period she copied with her own hand the ma.n.u.scripts of his various works as he wrote them. This was done to guard against the danger of the originals being lost, or mangled by printers. A writer in the _Pall Mall Gazette_ has furnished some interesting details respecting the ma.n.u.scripts, which will be valuable as showing how the poet worked. What he effaced, he says, was so covered with ink, applied in a horizontal direction, that n.o.body will ever be able to make it out.

When he wanted to get a subject well into his mind's eye he drew it sometimes with great finish of detail on the margin. There is something in several of the ma.n.u.scripts reminding one of Dore's ill.u.s.trations of the _Contes Drolatiques_; while others bring to mind Albert Durer's orfevrerie. All Victor Hugo's important ma.n.u.scripts have been bequeathed to the Bibliotheque Nationale.