Note (return) — VICTOR HUGO

Victor Hugo's conception of the scheme of the series of poems to which he gave the title of La Légende des Siècles is thus described in the preface to the first scenes: 'Exprimer l'humanité dans une espèce d'oeuvre cyclique; la peindre successivement et simultanément sous tous ses aspects, histoire, fable, philosophie, religion, science, lesquels se résument en un seul et immense mouvement d'ascension vers la lumière; faire apparaître, dans une sorte de miroir sombre et clair—que l'interruption naturelle de travaux terrestres brisera probablement avant qu'il ait la dimension rêvée par l'auteur—cette grande figure une et multiple, lugubre et rayonnante, faible et sacrée, L'Homme.' The poet thus dreamt of a vast epic, of which the central figure should be no mythical or legendary hero, but Man himself, conceived as struggling upwards from the darkness of barbarism to the light of a visionary golden age. Every epoch was to be painted in its dominant characteristic, every aspect of human thought was to find its fitting expression. The first series could pretend to no such completeness, but the poet promised that the gaps should be filled up in succeeding volumes. It cannot be said that this stupendous design was ever carried out. The first volumes, which were published in 1859, and from which the poems contained in this selection are taken, left great spaces vacant in the ground-plan of the work, and little attempt was made in the subsequent series, which appeared in 1877 and 1883, to fill up those spaces. In fact, Hugo has left large tracts of human history untrod. He has scarcely touched the civilization of the East, he has given us no adequate picture of ancient Greece. L'Aide offerte à Majorien can hardly be regarded as a sufficient picture of the wanderings of the nations, nor Le Régiment du Baron Madruce as an adequate embodiment of the spirit of the eighteenth century. The Reformation, and, what is stranger still, the French Revolution, are not handled at all, though the heroism of the Napoleonic era finds fitting description in Le Cimetière d'Eylau. The truth is that Hugo set himself a task which was perhaps beyond the power of any single poet to accomplish, and was certainly one for which he was not altogether well fitted. He did not possess that capacity for taking a broad and impartial view of history which was needed in the author of such an epic as he designed. His strong predilections on the one hand, and his violent antipathies on the other, swayed his choice of subjects, narrowed his field of vision, and influenced his manner of presentment. The series cannot therefore pretend to philosophic completeness. It is a gallery of pictures painted by a master-hand, and pervaded by a certain spirit of unity, yet devoid of any strict arrangement, and formed on no carefully maintained principle. It is a set of cameos, loosely strung upon a thread, a structure with countless beautiful parts, which do not however cohere into any symmetrical whole. The poems are cast in many forms; allegory, narrative, vision, didactic poetry, lyric poetry, all find a place. There is little history, but much legend, some fiction, and a good deal of mythology. The series was not designed as a whole. La Chanson des Aventuriers de la Mer was written in or before 1840, Le Mariage de Roland, Aymerillot, and La Conscience in or about 1846, and other pieces at intervals between 1849 and 1858, the date at which the poet appears to have begun the task of building these fragments into an epic structure. Nor is there in these poems any dispassionate attempt to portray the character of the successive ages in the life of the race. For Hugo there was no 'émancipation du moi.' The Légende is less a revelation of history than it is a revelation of the poet. His choice of themes was dictated less by a careful search after what was most characteristic of each epoch than by his own strong predilections. He loved the picturesque, the heroic, the enormous, the barbarous, the grotesque. Hence Éviradnus, Ratbert, Le Mariage de Roland. He loved also the weak, the poor, the defenceless, the old man and the little child. Hence Les Pauvres Gens, Booz endormi, Petit Paul. He delighted in the monstrous, he revelled in extremes, and he had little perception of the lights and shades which make up ordinary human character. Neither his poems nor his romances show much trace of that psychological analysis which is the peculiar feature of so much modern literature. Child of the nineteenth century, as he was in so many respects, in many of the features of his art he belongs to no era, and conforms to no tendency, except that of his own Titanic genius. He could see white and he could see black, but he could not see grey, and never tried to paint it. He does not allow Philip II even his redeeming virtues of indefatigable industry and unceasing devotion to duty, while in his Rome of the decadence would assuredly be found scarce five good men. His vision is curiously limited to the darker side of history; he hears humanity uttering in all ages a cry of suffering, and but rarely a shout of laughter. He sees the oppression of the tyrant more vividly than the heroism of the oppressed. Has he to write of the power of Spain? It is in the portrayal of the tyrant of Spain rather than the men who overcame Spain that his genius finds scope. Does he wish to paint the era of religious persecution? It is the horror of the Inquisition rather than the heroism of its victims that is pictured on his canvas. Delineations of heroic virtue there are indeed in the Légende, but it is noteworthy that they occur usually in fictions such as Éviradnus, Le Petit Roi de Galice, and La Confiance du Marquis Fabrice.1 He has given us no historical portraits of noble characters which can be put side by side with those of Philip II and Sultan Mourad. As in his dramas, his kings and rulers are always drawn in dark colours. His heroes belong to the classes that he loved, poor people, common soldiers, old men, children, and, be it added, animals. He is always the man of great heart and strong prejudices, never the dramatist or the philosopher.