Caution is the eldest child of Wisdom.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed)
I was unable to find an original citation (in English) for Hugo, but attributions to him were in circulation by 1896 and 1904.
At the same time, the phrase "la Prudence est la fille aînée de la Sagesse" (caution is the eldest daughter of wisdom) also shows up in 1896 as a generic reference, not identified with Hugo. This might either be a French proverb assigned to Hugo as a famous French writer, or a Hugo phrase that became proverbial.
Quotations by:
Hugo, Victor
Our acts make or mar us, we are the children of our own deeds.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed)
Not confirmed or found in Hugo's writings.
The most common citation is is used in Henry Southgate, Things A Lady Would Like To Know, "November 18," epigraph (1875). However, I found a number of earlier references:A similar quotation, attributed (similarly without citation) to Miguel de Cervantes or Jean Paul Richter, reads: "Good actions ennoble us, and we are sons of our own deeds."
- 1874: Eugene Crowell, The Identity of Primitive Christianity and Modern Spiritualism (no attribution to Hugo).
- 1873: Maria Westmoreland, Clifford Troup: A Georgia Story, ch. 23.
- 1872-05-09: Massillon Independent, Vol. 9, No. 49 (column filler, no attribution to Hugo).
- 1872: Maturin Ballou, Treasury of Thought.
Progress is the stride of God.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed)
Widely attributed to Hugo, but I cannot find a primary source for it. In a few places it is cited to his William Shakespeare (1864), but not in the two English translations I could find for it, nor could I identify it in the French.
The earliest attribution to Hugo I found was in Day's Collacon (1884), without citation. If this is a loose paraphrase of something in William Shakespeare, I have not tracked it down.
Variants:
- Progress is the stride of God himself.
- Progress is the stride of God, and God never takes a step backward.
Short as life is, we make it still shorter by the careless waste of time.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed)
The earliest reference to this translation I find, with no citation, is in Maturin Ballou, Edge-Tools of Speech (1886). Nineteenth Century books of quotations such as this often paraphrase passages, especially in translation, so it is altogether possible this particular wording was crafted by Ballou.
When dictatorship is a fact, revolution becomes a right.
[Quand la dictature est un fait, la révolution devient un droit.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed)
While in keeping with his opposition to the regime of Napoleon III, I have been unable to find any primary source or citation in English or French for this quotation (that Time Magazine (1957-06-03) used the quote doesn't really count).
Toleration is the best religion.
[La tolérance est la meilleure religion.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
(Attributed) [ed. Ballou (1881)]
(Source)
Widely attributed to Hugo, I am unable to find a citation or primary source in either language. Note this early English language reference was within Hugo's lifetime, which lends the authenticity of the quotation more credible.Variants:
- "Tolerance is the best religion."
- "The best religion is tolerance."
True or false, what is said about men often figures as large in their lives, and above all in the fate that befalls them, as what they do.
[Vrai ou faux, ce qu’on dit des hommes tient souvent autant de place dans leur vie et souvent dans leur destinée que ce qu’ils font.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 1 (1.1.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Be it true or false, what is said about men often has as much influence upon their lives, and especially upon their destinies, as what they do.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]What is said of men, whether it be true or false, often occupies as much space in their life, and especially in their destiny, as what they do.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]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.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]What is reported of men, whether it be true or false, may play as large a part in their lives, and above all in their destiny, as the things they do.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Whether true or false, what is said about men often has as much influence on their lives, and particularly on their destinies, as what they do.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
M. Myriel had to submit to the fate of every newcomer in a small town, where many tongues talk but few heads think.
[M. Myriel devait subir le sort de tout nouveau venu dans une petite ville où il y a beaucoup de bouches qui parlent et fort peu de têtes qui pensent.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 1 (1.1.1) (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
This quotation is often given with just the second clause ("Many tongues ..."), making a more general statement than the context provides.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:M. Myriel had to submit to the fate of every new-comer in a small town, where there are many tongues to talk, and but few heads to think.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]M. Myriel was fated to undergo the lot of every new-comer to a little town, where there are many mouths that speak, and but few heads that think.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]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.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]He had to accept the fate of every newcomer to a small town where are plenty of tongues that gossip and few minds that think.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Monsieur Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer to a small town where there are plenty of tongues given to wagging and very few minds given to reflection.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
During one Lent a youthful vicar came to preach in the cathedral at Digne and did so with some eloquence. His theme was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor so that they might escape the torments of Hell, which he depicted in hideous terms, and attain to Paradise, which he made to sound altogether delightful, Among the congregation was a Monsieur Geborand, a wealthy and grasping retired merchant, who had made a fortune in the cloth-trade but had never been known to give anything to the poor. It was observed, after this sermon, that on Sundays he handed a single sou to the old beggar-women clustered outside the cathedral door. There were six of them to share it. Noting the event, the bishop smiled and said to his sister: “Monsieur Geborand is buying a penny-worth of Paradise.”
[Pendant un carême, un jeune vicaire vint à Digne et prêcha dans la cathédrale. Il fut assez éloquent. Le sujet de son sermon était la charité. Il invita les riches à donner aux indigents, afin d’éviter l’enfer, qu’il peignit le plus effroyable qu’il put, et de gagner le paradis, qu’il fit désirable et charmant. Il y avait dans l’auditoire un riche marchand retiré, un peu usurier, nommé M. Géborand, lequel avait gagné deux millions à fabriquer de gros draps, des serges, des cadis et des gasquets. De sa vie M. Géborand n’avait fait l’aumône à un malheureux. À partir de ce sermon, on remarqua qu’il donnait tous les dimanches un sou aux vieilles mendiantes du portail de la cathédrale. Elles étaient six à se partager cela. Un jour, l’évêque le vit faisant sa charité et dit à sa sœur avec un sourire : — Voilà monsieur Géborand qui achète pour un sou de paradis.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 4 (1.1.4) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to D---, and preached in the cathedral. The subject of his sermon was charity, and he treated it very eloquently. He called upon the rich to give alms to the poor, if they would escape the tortures of hell, which he pictured in the most fearful colours, and enter that paradise which he painted as so desirable and inviting. There was a retired merchant of wealth in the audience, a little given to usury, M. Geborand, who had accumulated an estate of two millions in the manufacture of coarse cloths and serges. Never, in the whole course of his life, had M. Geborand given alms to the unfortunate ; but from the date of this sermon it was noticed that he gave regularly, every Sunday, a penny to the old beggar women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. The bishop chanced to see him one day, as he was performing this act of charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, “See Monsieur Geborand, buying a pennyworth of paradise.”
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]During one Lent a young vicar came to D.... and preached at the cathedral. He was rather eloquent, and the subject of his sermon was charity. He invited the rich to give to the needy in order to escape hell, which he painted in the most frightful way he could, and reach paradise, which he made desirable and charming. There was among the congregation a rich retired merchant, somewhat of an usurer, who had acquired $400,000 by manufacturing coarse cloths, serges, and caddis. In his whole lifetime M. Géborand had never given alms to a beggar, but after this sermon it was remarked that he gave every Sunday a cent to the old beggars at the cathedral gate. There were six women to share it. One day the bishop saw him bestowing his charity, and said to his sister, with a smile, “Look at M. Géborand buying a bit of paradise for a cent.”
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]In the course of one Lent, a youthful vicar came to Digne, 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 woolen 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."
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to Digne, and preached in the cathedral. The subject of his sermon was charity, and he treated it very eloquently. He called upon the rich to give alms to the poor, if they were to escape the tortures of hell, which he pictured in the most fearful colors, and enter paradise, which he portrayed as desirable and inviting. There was a wealthy retired merchant at the service, somewhat inclined to usury, a M. Geborand, who had accumulated an estate of two million from manufacturing coarse cloth and woolens. Never in all his life had M. Geborand given alms to the unfortunate; but from the day of this sermon it was noticed that regularly every Sunday he gave a penny to the old beggar women at the door of the cathedral. There were six of them to share it. One day the bishop, seeing him perform this act of charity, said to his sister with a smile, 'There's Monsieur Geborand, buying a pennyworth of paradise."
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Once, during Lent, a young vicar came to Digne and preached in the cathedral. He was quite eloquent. The subject of his sermon was charity. He urged the rich to give to the poor so to as avoid going to hell, which he depicted in the most dreadful terms he could, and to get to parasdise, which he represented as desirable and delightful. Among hsi audience was a somewhat tight-fisted retired wealthy merchant named Monsieur Géborand, who had amassed half a million in the manufacture of coarse cloth, serge, caddis and felt caps. Monsieur Géborand had never in his life been charitable to any poor unfortunate. After that sermon it was noticed he gave one sou every Sunday to the old beggar-women at the cathedral door. They had to share it between six of them. One day the bishop saw him making his donation and said to his sister with a smile, "There's Monsieur Géborand buying one sou's worth of paradise."
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
To be a saint is the exception. To be a good man is the rule. Err, weaken and sin, but be among the good.
[Être un saint, c’est l’exception ; être un juste, c’est la règle. Errez, défaillez, péchez, mais soyez des justes.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 4 (1.1.4) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Part of the short summary of Bishop Myriel's teachings. (Source (French)). Alternate translations:To be a saint is the exception; to be upright is the rule. Err, falter, sin, but be upright.
[tr. Wilbour (1862); Wilbour / Fahnestock / MacAfee (1987)]To be a saint is the exception, to be a just man is the rule. Err, fail, sin, but be just.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]To be a saint is the exception; to be an upright man is the rule. Err, fall, sin if you will, but be upright.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]To be a saint is to be an exception; to be a true man is the rule. Err, fail, sin if you must, but be upright.
[tr. Denny (1976)]
When he [Bishop Myriel] saw everyone condemning very loudly and being very quick to express indignation, “Oh my,” he would say with a smile, “this looks like being a great crime that everyone commits. Here we have hypocrisies in fright, hurrying to protest and to take cover.”
[Quand il voyait tout le monde crier bien fort et s’indigner bien vite: — «Oh! oh! disait-il en souriant, il y a apparence que ceci est un gros crime que tout le monde commet. Voilà les hypocrisies effarées qui se dépêchent de protester et de se mettre à couvert.»]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 4 (1.1.4) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:When he heard many exclaiming, and expressing great indignation against anything, “Oh! oh!” he would say, smiling. “It would seem that this is a great crime, of which they are all guilty. How frightened hypocrisy hastens to defend itself, and to get under cover.”
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]When he saw everybody cry out and grow indignant, all of a sudden, he would say with a smile, “Oh! oh, it seems as if this is a great crime which all the world is committing. Look at the startled hypocrites, hastening to protest and place themselves under cover.”
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]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."
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Any ill-considered outburst of popular indignation would cause him to smile. ‘It appears,’ he would say, ‘that this is a crime which everyone commits. See how outraged hypocrisy hurries to cover itself!’
[tr. Denny (1976)]When he heard people raising a hue and cry, easily finding fault, "Oh ho!" he would say, with a smile. "It would seem that this is a great crime that everyone commits. See how an offended hypocrisy is quick to protest and run for cover."
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but he who causes the darkness.
[Cette âme est pleine d’ombre, le péché s’y commet. Le coupable n’est pas celui qui y fait le péché, mais celui qui y a fait l’ombre.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 4 (1.1.4) [Bishop Myriel] (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:This soul is full of darkness, and sin is committed, but the guilty person is not the man who commits the sin, but he who produces the darkness.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]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.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The soul in darkness sins, but the real sinner is he who caused the darkness.
[tr. Denny (1976)]If the soul is left in darkness, sins will be committed. The guilty one is not he who commits the sin, but the one who causes the darkness.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]In any benighted soul -- that's where sin will be committed. It's not he who commits the sin that's to blame, but he who causes the darkness to prevail.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Have no fear of robbers or murderers. They are external dangers, petty dangers. We should fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers; vices the real murderers. The great dangers are within us. Why worry about what threatens our heads or our purses? Let us think instead of what threatens our souls.
[Ne craignons jamais les voleurs ni les meurtriers. Ce sont là les dangers du dehors, les petits dangers. Craignons-nous nous-mêmes. Les préjugés, voilà les voleurs; les vices, voilà les meurtriers. Les grands dangers sont au dedans de nous. Qu’importe ce qui menace notre tête ou notre bourse! Ne songeons qu’à ce qui menace notre âme.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 7 (1.1.7) [Bp. Myriel] (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Have no fear of robbers or murderers. Such dangers are without, and are but petty. We should fear ourselves. Prejudices are teh real robbers; vices the real murderers. The great dangers are within us. What mater it what threatens our heads or our purses? Let us think only of what threatens our souls.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Never let us fear robbers or murderers. These are external and small dangers; let us fear ourselves; prejudices are the real robbers, vices the true murderers. The great dangers are within ourselves. Let us not trouble about what threatens our head or purse, and only think of what threatens our soul.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Let us never fear robbers nor murderers. Those are dangers from without, petty dangers. Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers; vices are the real murderers. The great dangers lie within ourselves. What matters it what threatens our head or our purse! Let us think only of that which threatens our soul.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]We must never fear robbers or murderers. They are dangers from outside, small dangers. It is ourselves we have to fear. Prejudice is the real robber, and vice the real murderer. Why should we be troubled by a threat to our person or our pocket? What we have to beware of is the threat to our souls.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Never fear robbers or murderers. Thiose are dangers that come from without. Small dangers. Let us fear ourselves. Prejudices are the real robbers. Vices are the real murderers. The great dangers are within us. Never mind what endangers our life or our purse! Let's be mindful only of what endangers our soul.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
We might have understood and admired in him protest in the name of legality and liberty, proud opposition, legitimate but perilous resistance to the all-powerful Napoleon. But what pleases us in the treatment of those on their way up is less pleasing in the treatment of those on their way down. We approve of fighting only so long as there is danger, and in any case only those who fought in the first instance have the right to be exterminators at the last. He who has not been a persistent opponent in times of prosperity should remain silent when the downfall comes. Challenging success gives the only legitimacy to prosecuting failure.
[Nous eussions compris et admiré la protestation au nom du droit et de la liberté, l’opposition fière, la résistance périlleuse et juste à Napoléon tout-puissant. Mais ce qui nous plaît vis-à-vis de ceux qui montent nous plaît moins vis-à-vis de ceux qui tombent. Nous n’aimons le combat que tant qu’il y a du danger ; et, dans tous les cas, les combattants de la première heure ont seuls le droit d’être les exterminateurs de la dernière. Qui n’a pas été accusateur opiniâtre pendant la prospérité doit se taire devant l’écroulement. Le dénonciateur du succès est le seul légitime justicier de la chute.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 1 “An Upright Man,” ch. 11 (1.1.11) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
On the otherwise-virtuous Bishop Myriel only opposing Napoleon after the emperor's fortunes were waning.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:We could have understood and admired a protest in the name of right and liberty, a fierce opposition, a perilous and just resistance to Napoleon when he was all-powerful. But what is pleasing to us towards those who are rising, is less pleasing towards those who are falling. We do not admire the combat when there is no danger; and in any case, the combatants of the first hour have alone the right to be the exterminators in the last. He who has not been a determined accuser during prosperity, ought to hold his peace in the presence of adversity. He only who denounces the success at one time has a right to proclaim the justice of the downfall.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]We could have understood and admired a protest in the name of justice and liberty, a haughty opposition, and a perilous and just resistance offered to the omnipotent Napoleon. But conduct which pleases us toward those who are rising, pleases us less toward those who are falling. We only like the contest so long as there is danger; and, in any case, only the combatants from the beginning have a right to be the exterminators at the end. A man who has not been an obstinate accuser during prosperity must be silent when the crash comes; the denouncer of success is the sole legitimate judge of the fall.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]We should have understood and admired his protest in the name of right and liberty, his proud opposition, his just but perilous resistance to the all-powerful Napoleon. But that which pleases us in people who are rising pleases us less in the case of people who are falling. We only love the fray so long as there is danger, and in any case, the combatants of the first hour have alone the right to be the exterminators of the last. He who has not been a stubborn accuser in prosperity should hold his peace in the face of ruin. The denunciator of success is the only legitimate executioner of the fall.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]We would nevertheless have admired him had he, in the name of justice and liberty, pursued a course of high-minded and perilous resistance to Napoleon when the Emperor was at the height of his power. But what is admirable in the case of a rising star is less so when the star is setting. We can respect the struggle only when it is dangerous; and in any case, only those who fight from the beginning deserve the final victory. The man who did not speak out in the time of prosperity does better to keep silent in the time of adversity; only the assailant of success is the legitimate instrument of its downfall.
[tr. Denny (1976)]We could have understood and admired a protest in the name of law and liberty, a fierce opposition, a perilous and just resistance to Napoleon when he was all-powerful. But what pleases us in those who are rising is less pleasing in those who are falling. We do not admire the combat when there is no danger; and in any case, the combatants of the first hour alone have the right to be the exterminators in the last. He who has not been a determined accuser during prosperity should hold his peace in adversity. He alone who denounces the success has a right to proclaim the justice of the downfall.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
It is characteristic of this form of punishment, inspired by all that is pitiless, that is to say brutalizing, that gradually, by a process of mindless erosion, it turns a man into an animal, sometimes a ferocious one.
[Le propre des peines de cette nature, dans lesquelles domine ce qui est impitoyable, c’est-à-dire ce qui est abrutissant, c’est de transformer peu à peu, par une sorte de transfiguration stupide, un homme en une bête fauve, quelquefois en une bête féroce.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 2 “The Fall,” ch. 7 (1.2.7) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
On the degradation of Jean Valjean while serving his hard labor sentence.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:The peculiarity of punishment of this kind, in which what is pitiless, that is to say, what is brutalising, predominates, is to transform little by little, by a slow stupefaction, a man into an animal, sometimes into a wild beast.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]The peculiarity of punishments of this nature, in which naught but what is pitiless, that is to say, brutalizing, prevails, is gradually, and by a species of stupid transfiguration, to transform a man into a wild beast, at times a ferocious beast.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]The peculiarity of pains of this nature, in which that which is pitiless -- that is to say, that which is brutalizing -- predominates, is to transform a man, little by little, by a sort of stupid transfiguration, into a wild beast; sometimes into a ferocious beast.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The peculiarity of punishment of this kind, in which the pitiless or brutalizing part predominates, is to transform gradually by a slow numbing process a man into an animal, sometimes into a wild beast.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]It is in the nature of such punishment -- in which what prevails is the pitiless, in other words, the brutalizing -- to transform a man little by little, by a kind of stupid transfiguration, into a wild beast, sometimes a ferocious beast.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
His motives were outrage that had become a habit of mind, the bitterness in his heart, a deep sense of the iniquities he had suffered, the impulse to react, even against the good, the innocent and the just, if there be any. The point of departure and of arrival in all his thinking was his hatred of human law; a hatred that if not arrested in its development by some providential occurrence becomes within a given time hatred of society, then hatred of the human race, then hatred of creation, as is reflected in an ill-defined, constant and brutal desire to inflict harm on no matter whom, on any living creature.
[Il avait pour mobiles l’indignation habituelle, l’amertume de l’âme, le profond sentiment des iniquités subies, la réaction, même contre les bons, les innocents et les justes, s’il y en a. Le point de départ comme le point d’arrivée de toutes ses pensées était la haine de la loi humaine ; cette haine qui, si elle n’est arrêtée dans son développement par quelque incident providentiel, devient, dans un temps donné, la haine de la société, puis la haine du genre humain, puis la haine de la création, et se traduit par un vague et incessant et brutal désir de nuire, n’importe à qui, à un être vivant quelconque.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 2 “The Fall,” ch. 7 (1.2.7) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Describing Jean Valjean, "a highly dangerous man," after his parole.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:He had as motives, habitual indignation, bitterness of soul, a deep sense of injuries suffered, a reaction even against the good, the innocent, and the upright, if any such there are. The beginning as well as the end of all his thoughts was hatred of human law; that hatred which, if it be not checked in its growth by some providential event, becomes, in a certain time, hatred of society, then hatred of the human race, and then hatred of creation, and reveals itself by a vague and incessant desire to injure some living being, it matters not who.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]He had for his motives habitual indignation, bitterness of soul, the profound feeling of iniquities endured, and reaction even against the good, the innocent, and the just, if such exist. The starting-point, like the goal, of all his thoughts was hatred of human law; that hatred, which, if it be not arrested in its development by some providential incident, becomes within a given time a hatred of society, then a hatred of the human race, next a hatred of creation, and is expressed by a vague, incessant, and brutal desire to injure some one, no matter whom.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]He had for moving causes his habitual wrath, bitterness of soul, a profound sense of indignities suffered, the reaction even against the good, the innocent, and the just, if there are any such. The point of departure, like the point of arrival, for all his thoughts, was hatred of human law; that hatred which, if it be not arrested in its development by some providential incident, becomes, within a given time, the hatred of society, then the hatred of the human race, then the hatred of creation, and which manifests itself by a vague, incessant, and brutal desire to do harm to some living being, no matter whom.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]His impulses were governed by resentment, bitterness and a profound sense of injury which might vent itself even upon good and innocent people, if any such came his way. The beginning and the end of all his thought was hatred of human laws: a hatred which, if some providential happening does not arrest its growth, may swell in time into a hatred of all society, all mankind, all created things, becoming a savage and obsessive desire to inflict harm on no matter what or whom.
[tr. Denny (1976)]As motives, he had habitual indignation, bitterness, a deep sense of injury, a reaction even against the good, the innocent, and the upright, in the unlikely event he encountered them. The beginning and end of all his thoughts was hatred of human law; that hatred which, if not checked in its growth by some providential event, becomes in time a hatred of society, then hatred of the human race, then hatred of creation, revealing itself by a vague, incessant desire to injure some living being, no matter who.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
When he left the bishop’s dwelling Jean Valjean, as we know, had been in a state of mind unlike anything he had ever experienced before and was quite unable to account for what was taking place within him. He had sought to harden his heart against the old man’s saintly act and moving words. “You have promised me to become an honest man. I am buying your soul. I am rescuing it from the spirit of perversity and giving it to God.” The words constantly returned to him and he sought to suppress them with arrogance, which in all of us is the stronghold of evil. Obscurely he perceived that the priest’s forgiveness was the most formidable assault he had ever sustained; that if he resisted it his heart would be hardened once and for all, and that if he yielded he must renounce the hatred which the acts of men had implanted in him during so many years, and to which he clung. He saw dimly that this time he must either conquer or be conquered, and that the battle was now joined, a momentous and decisive battle between the evil in himself and the goodness in that other man.
[Quand Jean Valjean était sorti de chez l’évêque, on l’a vu, il était hors de tout ce qui avait été sa pensée jusque-là. Il ne pouvait se rendre compte de ce qui se passait en lui. Il se roidissait contre l’action angélique et contre les douces paroles du vieillard. « Vous m’avez promis de devenir honnête homme. Je vous achète votre âme. Je la retire à l’esprit de perversité et je la donne au bon Dieu. » Cela lui revenait sans cesse. Il opposait à cette indulgence céleste l’orgueil, qui est en nous comme la forteresse du mal. Il sentait indistinctement que le pardon de ce prêtre était le plus grand assaut et la plus formidable attaque dont il eût encore été ébranlé ; que son endurcissement serait définitif s’il résistait à cette clémence ; que, s’il cédait, il faudrait renoncer à cette haine dont les actions des autres hommes avaient rempli son âme pendant tant d’années, et qui lui plaisait ; que cette fois il fallait vaincre ou être vaincu, et que la lutte, une lutte colossale et définitive, était engagée entre sa méchanceté à lui et la bonté de cet homme.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 2 “The Fall,” ch. 13 (1.2.13) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:When Jean Valjean left the bishop's house, as we have seen, his mood was one that he had never known before. He could understand nothing of what was passing within him. He set himself stubbornly in opposition to the angelic deeds and the gentle words of the old man, “you have promised me to become an honest man. I am purchasing your soul, I withdraw it from the spirit of perversity, and I give it to God Almighty." This came back to him incessantly. To this celestial tenderness, he opposed pride, which is the fortress of evil in man. He felt dimly that the pardon of this priest was the hardest assault, and the most formidable attack which he had yet sustained ; that his hardness of heart would be complete, if it resisted this kindness; that if he yielded, be must renounce that hatred with which the acts of other men had for so many years filled his soul, and in which he found satisfaction; that, this time, he must conquer or be conquered, and that the struggle, a gigantic and decisive struggle, had begun between his own wickedness, and the goodness of this man.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]When Jean Valjean quitted the bishop’s house, he was lifted out of his former thoughts, and could not account for what was going on within him. He stiffened himself against the angelic deeds and gentle words of the old man: “You have promised me to become an honest man. I purchase your soul; I withdraw it from the spirit of perverseness, and give it to God.” This incessantly recurred to him, and he opposed to this celestial indulgence that pride which is within us as the fortress of evil. He felt instinctively that this priest’s forgiveness was the greatest and most formidable assault by which he had yet been shaken; that his hardening would be permanent if he resisted this clemency; that if he yielded he must renounce that hatred with which the actions of other men had filled his soul during so many years, and which pleased him; that this time he must either conquer or be vanquished, and that the struggle, a colossal and final struggle, had begun between his wickedness and that man’s goodness.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]When Jean Valjean left the Bishop's house, he was, as we have seen, quite thrown out of everything that had been his thought hitherto. He could not yield to the evidence of what was going on within him. He hardened himself against the angelic action and the gentle words of the old man. "You have promised me to become an honest man. I buy your soul. I take it away from the spirit of perversity; I give it to the good God."
This recurred to his mind unceasingly. To this celestial kindness he opposed pride, which is the fortress of evil within us. He was indistinctly conscious that the pardon of this priest was the greatest assault and the most formidable attack which had moved him yet; that his obduracy was finally settled if he resisted this clemency; that if he yielded, he should be obliged to renounce that hatred with which the actions of other men had filled his soul through so many years, and which pleased him; that this time it was necessary to conquer or to be conquered; and that a struggle, a colossal and final struggle, had been begun between his viciousness and the goodness of that man.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]When Jean Valjean left the bishop's house, as we saw, his thoughts were unlike any he had ever known before. He could understand nothing of what was going on inside him. He stubbornly resisted the angelic deeds and the gentle words of the old man, "You have promised me to become an honest man. I am purchasing your soul. I withdraw it from the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God!" This kept coming back to him. In opposition to this celestial tenderness, he summoned up pride, the fortress of evil in man. He dimly felt that this priest's pardon was the hardest assault, the most formidable attack he had ever sustained; that his hardness of heart would be complete, if it resisted this kindness; that if he yielded, he would have to renounce the hatred with which the acts of other men had for so many years filled his soul, and in which he found satisfaction; that, this time, he must conquer or be conquered, and that the struggle, a gigantic and decisive struggle, had begun between his own wrongs and the goodness of this man.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]When jean Valjean left the bishop's house he was, as we have seen, in what was to him an entirely different mental universe. He could not undersdtand what was going on inside him. He hardened himself against the old man's angelic deed and gentle words. "You promised to become an honest man. I'm buying your soul. I'm redeeming it from the spirit of iniquity and giving it to the good Lord." This kept coming back to him. This heavenly kindness he countered with pride -- the fortress of evil, as it were, within us. He had the indistinct feeling that this priest's forgiveness was the greatest assault and most tremendous attack he had ever experience. That if he resisted this clemency the hardening of his heart would be definitive. That if he yielded he would be obliged to renounce that hatred with which the deeds of other men had filled his soul over so many years, a hatred he relished. That this time he had to vanquish or be vanquished, and that the battle had been joined, a colossal and decisive battle, between his own wickedness and that man's goodness.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Table talk, lovers’ talk — both are equally elusive. Lovers’ talk is castlebuilding, table talk is pipe-dreaming.
[Propos de table et propos d’amour; les uns sont aussi insaisissables que les autres; les propos d’amour sont des nuées, les propos de table sont des fumées.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 3 “The Year 1817,” ch. 6 (1.3.6) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Table talk and lovers' talk equally elude the grasp; lovers' talk is clouds, table talk is smoke.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Love talk and table talk are equally indescribable, for the first is cloud, the second smoke.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Chat at table, the chat of love; it is as impossible to reproduce one as the other; the chat of love is a cloud; the chat at table is smoke.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Table-talk and lovers’ talk, both fleeting as air. Lovers’ talk is the mist and table-talk the scent.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Table talk and lovers' talk are equally elusive; lovers' talk is clouds, table talk is smoke.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves — say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
[Le suprême bonheur de la vie, c’est la conviction qu’on est aimé; aimé pour soi-même, disons mieux, aimé malgré soi-même.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 5 “The Descent,” ch. 4 (1.5.4) (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:The supreme happiness of life is the conviction of being loved for yourself, or, more correctly speaking, loved in spite of yourself.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved -- loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
[E.g. (1873)]The supreme happiness of life consists in the conviction that one is loved; loved for one's own sake -- let us say rather, loved in spite of one's self.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The supreme happiness in life is the assurance of being loved; of being loved for oneself, even in spite of oneself.
[tr. Denny (1976)]The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves -- say rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]The supreme happiness of life is the conviction that you are loved, loved for yourself, better still, loved despite yourself.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
It is our firm belief that if souls were visible to the eye we should clearly see that strange thing whereby every single member of the human species corresponds to some species of the animal world. And we would easily be able to recognize that truth barely apprehended by the philosopher, which is that, from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals are to be found in mankind, and each one of them is to be found in some man. Sometimes even several at a time.
[Dans notre conviction, si les âmes étaient visibles aux yeux, on verrait distinctement cette chose étrange que chacun des individus de l’espèce humaine correspond à quelqu’une des espèces de la création animale ; et l’on pourrait reconnaître aisément cette vérité à peine entrevue par le penseur, que, depuis l’huître jusqu’à l’aigle, depuis le porc jusqu’au tigre, tous les animaux sont dans l’homme et que chacun d’eux est dans un homme. Quelquefois même plusieurs d’entre eux à la fois.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 5 “The Descent,” ch. 5 (1.5.5) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Commentary while introducing Javert (whose "animal" is the one wolf born in each litter which is killed by the mother so that he does not kill the others).
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:It is our conviction that if souls were visible to the eyes, we should be able to see distinctly that strange thing, that each one individual of the human race corresponds to some one of the species of the animal creation; and we could easily recognize this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals exist in man, and that in each one of them is in a man. Sometimes even several of them at a time.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]In our conviction, if souls were visible we should distinctly see the strange fact that every individual of the human species corresponds to some one of the species of animal creation; and we might easily recognize the truth, which has as yet scarce occurred to the thinker, that, from the oyster to the eagle, from the hog to the tiger, all animals are in man, and that each of them is in a man; at times, several of them at once.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]It is our conviction that if souls were visible to the eyes, we should be able to see distinctly that strange thing that each one individual of the human race corresponds to some one of the species of the animal creation; and we could easily recognize this truth, hardly perceived by the thinker, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the pig to the tiger, all animals exist in man, and that each one of them is in a man. Sometimes even several of them at a time.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]It is our belief that if the soul were visible to the eye every member of the human species would be seen to correspond to some species of the animal world and a truth scarcely perceived by thinkers would be readily confirmed, namely, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at a time.
[tr. Denny (1976)]It is our belief that if the soul were visible to the eye, every member of the human species would be seen to correspond to some species of the animal world, and a truth scarcely perceived by thinkers would be readily confirmed, namely, that from the oyster to the eagle, from the swine to the tiger, all animals are to be found in men and each of them exists in some man, sometimes several at a time.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
One can no more keep the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. For the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God stirs up the soul as well as the ocean.
[On n’empêche pas plus la pensée de revenir à une idée que la mer de revenir à un rivage. Pour le matelot, cela s’appelle la marée ; pour le coupable, cela s’appelle le remords. Dieu soulève l’âme comme l’océan.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 1 “Fantine,” Book 7 “The Champmathieu,” ch. 3 (1.7.3) (1862) [tr. Wilbour / Fahnestock / MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:One can no more prevent the mind from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to a shore. In the case of the sailor, this is called the tide; in the case of the guilty, it is called remorse. God upheaves the soul as well as the ocean.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]It is no more possible to prevent thought from reverting to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. With the sailor this is called the tide; with the culprit it is called remorse; God heaves the soul like the ocean.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]One can no more prevent thought from recurring to an idea than one can the sea from returning to the shore: the sailor calls it the tide; the guilty man calls it remorse; God upheaves the soul as he does the ocean.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]We can no more prevent a thought returning to the mind than we can prevent the sea from rising on the foreshore. To the sailor it is the tide, to the uneasy conscience it is remorse. God moves the soul as He moves the oceans.
[tr. Denny (1976)]The mind is no more to be prevented from returning to an idea than the sea from returning to the shore. For the sailor this is called the tide. For the guilty man, it is called remorse. God stirs the soul as he causes the ocean to swell.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
It is possible to imagine something more terrible than a hell of suffering, and that is a hell of boredom.
[On peut rêver quelque chose de plus terrible qu’un enfer où l’on souffre, c’est un enfer où l’on s’ennuierait.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 4 “The Gorbeau Tenement,” ch. 1 (2.4.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
See Fromm (1931).
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Something more terrible than a hell of suffering may be conceived; to wit, a hell of ennui.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]It is possible to imagine something more horrible than an Inferno in which people suffer; it is on in which they are bored.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Something more terrible than a hell where one suffers may be imagined, and that is a hell where one is bored.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]It is possible to conceive of something even more terrible than a hell of suffering, and that is a hell of boredom.
[tr. Denny (1976)]There is something more terrible than a hell of suffering -- a hell of boredom.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]One can dream of something more terrible than a hell where one suffers; it’s a hell where one would get bored.
[E.g.]
It was a characteristic of Jean Valjean that he might have been said to carry two bags: in one he kept his saintly thoughts, in the other the formidable talents of a convict. He dug into one or the other, depending on circumstances.
[Jean Valjean avait cela de particulier qu’on pouvait dire qu’il portait deux besaces; dans l’une il avait les pensées d’un saint, dans l’autre les redoutables talents d’un forçat. Il fouillait dans l’une ou dans l’autre, selon l’occasion.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 5 “Dark Hunt, Mute Mutts,” ch. 5 (2.5.5) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Jean Valjean had this peculiarity, that he might be said to carry two knapsacks; in one he had the thoughts of a saint, in the other the formidable talents of a convict. He helped himself from one or the other as occasion required.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Jean Valjean had one peculiarity, that he might be said to carry two wallets: in one he had the thoughts of a saint; in the other the formidable talents of a convict, and he felt in one or the other as opportunity offered.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Jean Valjean had this peculiarity, that he carried, as one might say, two beggar's pouches: in one he kept his saintly thoughts; in the other the redoubtable talents of a convict. He rummaged in the one or the other, according to circumstances.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Jean Valjean had the singularity that he might be said to be doubly endowed, on the one side with the aspirations of a saint, on the other with the formidable talents of a criminal. He could draw on either as the case required.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Jean Valjean had this trait, that he might be said to carry two knapsacks -- in one he had the thoughts of a saint, in the other the impressive talents of a convict. He helped himself from one or the other as occasion required.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
The greatest follies, like the stoutest ropes, are often composed of a multitude of strands. Take the cable thread by thread, take separately each petty determining motive, and you can snap them one by one and say, “There’s no more to it than that!” Braid them and twist them together, and what you have is momentous.
[Les fortes sottises sont souvent faites, comme les grosses cordes, d’une multitude de brins. Prenez le câble fil à fil, prenez séparément tous les petits motifs déterminants, vous les cassez l’un après l’autre, et vous dites: Ce n’est que cela! Tressez-les et tordez-les ensemble, c’est une énormité.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 5 “Dark Hunt, Mute Mutts,” ch. 10 (2.5.10) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Great blunders are often made, like large ropes, of a multitude of fibres. Take the cable thread by thread, take separately all the little determining motives, you break them one after another, and you say: that is all. Wind them and twist them together, they become an enormity.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Great follies are often made, like stout ropes, of a multitude of fibers. Take the cable, thread by thread, catch hold of the small determining motives separately, and you break them one after the other, and say to yourself, “It is only that”; but twist them together and you have an enormity.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]The greatest follies are often composed, like the largest ropes, of a multitude of strands. Take the cable thread by thread, take all the petty determining motives separately, and you can break them one after the other, and you say, "That is all there is of it!" Braid them, twist them together; the result is enormous.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The greatest blunders, like the thickest ropes, are often compounded of a multitude of strands. Take the rope apart, separate it into the small threads that compose it, and you can break them one by one. You think, 'That is all there was!' But twist them all together, and you have something tremendous.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Great blunders are often made, like large ropes, of a multitude of fibers. Take the cable thread by thread, take all the little determining motives separately, you break them one after another, and you say: That is all it is. Braid them and twist them together, they become an enormity.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
Upon the first goblet he read this inscription, monkey wine; upon the second, lion wine; upon the third, sheep wine; upon the fourth, swine wine. These four inscriptions expressed the four descending degrees of drunkenness: the first, that which enlivens; the second, that which irritates; the third, that which stupefies; finally the last, that which brutalizes.
[Sur le premier gobelet on lisait cette inscription: vin de singe, sur le deuxième: vin de lion, sur le troisième: vin de mouton, sur le quatrième: vin de cochon. Ces quatre légendes exprimaient les quatre degrés que descend l’ivrogne; la première ivresse, celle qui égaye; la deuxième, celle qui irrite; la troisième, celle qui hébète; la dernière enfin, celle qui abrutit.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 6 “Petite Picpus,” ch. 9 (2.6.9) (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
An anecdote told by a century-old nun about filled wine goblets customarily presented, before the Revolution, by city fathers to important personages who passed through in Burgandy or Champagne.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:On the the first cup was the inscription “ape-wine,” on the second, “lion-wine,” on the third, “sheep-wine,” and on the fourth, “hog-wine.” These four mottoes expressed the four stages of intoxication—the first that enlightens, the second that irritates, the third that dulls, and the fourth that brutalizes.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]On the first goblet this inscription could be read, monkey wine; on the second, lion wine; on the third, sheep wine; on the fourth, hog wine. These four legends express the four stages descended by the drunkard; the first, intoxication, which enlivens; the second, that which irritates; the third, that which dulls; and the fourth, that which brutalizes.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)][...] four goblets, each of which bore a different wine and bore a different inscription -- vin de singe, vin de lion, vin de mouton, and vin de cochon.. They represented the four stages of intoxication -- gaiety, quarrelsomeness, dull-wittedness, and finally stupor.
[tr. Denny (1976)]On the first goblet he read the inscription "monkey wine," on the second "lion wine," on the third "sheep wine," on the fourth "swine wine." These four inscriptions expressed the four descending degrees of drunkenness: the first, which enlivens; the second, which irritates; the third, which stupefies; finally the last, which brutalizes.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]On the first goblet an inscription read: 'monkey's wine'; on the second, 'lion's wine'; on the third, 'sheep's wine'; on the fourth, 'hog's wine'. These four legends expressed the four stages of intoxication through which the drunkard descends: the first, of merriment; the second, of ill temper; the third, of dullness; and the fourth, of brutishness.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
To be lost in thought is not to be idle. There is visible work and invisible work. To contemplate is to toil, to think is to do.
[On n’est pas inoccupé parce qu’on est absorbé. Il y a le labeur visible et le labeur invisible.
Contempler, c’est labourer; penser, c’est agir.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 7 “A Parenthesis,” ch. 8 (2.7.8) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:A man is not idle, because he is absorbed in thought. There is a visible labour and there is an invisible labour.
To meditate is to labour; to think is to act.
[tr. Wilbour (1862); Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]To be absorbed is not to be unoccupied, there is an invisible as well as a visible labor.
To contemplate is to labor, to think is to act.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]One is not unoccupied because one is absorbed. There is visible labor and invisible labor.
To contemplate is to labor, to think is to act.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]One is not idle because one is absorbed. There is both visible and invisible labour. To contemplate is to toil, to think is to do.
[tr. Denny (1976)]
Not being heard is no reason for silence.
[N’être pas écouté, ce n’est pas une raison pour se taire.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 8 “Cemeteries Take What is Given Them,” ch. 1 (2.8.1) (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Not to be heard is no reason why a man should hold his tongue.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]That one is not listened to is no reason for preserving silence.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Not being heard is no reason for silence.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Not being listened to is no reason to stop talking.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Laughter is sunshine; it chases winter from the human face.
[Le rire, c’est le soleil; il chasse l’hiver du visage humain.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 2 “Cosette,” Book 8 “Cemeteries Take What Is Given Them,” ch. 9 (2.8.9) (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:For laughter is the sun which drives winter from the human face.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]A smile is the same as sunshine; it banishes winter from the human countenance.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Laughter is a sun that drives out winter from the human face.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Laughter is sunshine; it chases winter from the human face.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Laughter is sunshine. It banishes winter from the human countenance.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, these shades of ignorance, depths of despair, the gloom can be used for the conquest of the ideal. Look through the medium of the people, and you will discern the truth. This lowly sand that you trample underfoot, if you throw it into the furnace and let it melt and seethe, will become sparkling crystal; and thanks to such as this a Galileo and a Newton will discover the stars.
[Ces pieds nus, ces bras nus, ces haillons, ces ignorances, ces abjections, ces ténèbres, peuvent être employés à la conquête de l’idéal. Regardez à travers le peuple et vous apercevrez la vérité. Ce vil sable que vous foulez aux pieds, qu’on le jette dans la fournaise, qu’il y fonde et qu’il y bouillonne, il deviendra cristal splendide, et c’est grâce à lui que Galilée et Newton découvriront les astres.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 1 “Paris in Microcosm,” ch. 12 (3.1.12) (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
The author speaking, criticizing philosophers and scholars who dismiss the common people, or "mob."
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, these shades of ignorance, these depths of abjectness, these abysses of gloom may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. This lowly sand which you trample beneath your feet, if you cast it into the furnace, and let it melt and seethe, shall become resplendent crystal, and by means of such as it a Galileo and a Newton shall discover stars.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]These bare feet, these naked arms, these rags, this ignorance, this abjectness, this darkness, may be employed for the conquest of the ideal. Look through the people, and you will perceive the truth; the vile sand which you trample under foot, when cast into the furnace and melted, will become splendid crystal, and by its aid Galileo and Newton discover stars.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]These bare feet, these bare arms, these rags, these ignorances, these abjectnesses, these darknesses, may be employed in the conquest of the ideal. Gaze past the people, and you will perceive truth. Let that vile sand which you trample under foot be cast into the furnace, let it melt and seethe there, it will become a splendid crystal, and it is thanks to it that Galileo and Newton will discover stars.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Those bare feet and arms, the rags, the ignorance, the abjection, the dark places, all may be enlisted in the service of the ideal. Peer through the heart of the people and you will discover the truth. The common sand that you tread underfoot, let it be cast into the furnace to boil and melt and it will become a crystal as splendid as that through which Galileo and Newton discovered the stars.
[tr. Denny (1976)]These bare feet, bare arms, rags, this benightedness, degradation, darkness may be used for the conquest of the ideal. Look through the populace and you will see the truth. This vile sand you trample underfoot -- let it be thrown into the furnace, let it melt and bubble there. It will turn into clear crystal, and it is thanks to this crystal that Galileo and newton will discover the stars.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
This brother, who is little remembered, was a complacent miser who, being a priest, felt obliged to give alms to the poor he encountered, though he never gave them anything but worthless Revolutionary coins or demonetized sous, thereby contriving to go to hell by following the path to paradise.
[Ce frère, dont il est resté peu de souvenir, était un paisible avare, qui, étant prêtre, se croyait obligé de faire l’aumône aux pauvres qu’il rencontrait, mais il ne leur donnait jamais que des monnerons ou des sous démonétisés, trouvant ainsi moyen d’aller en enfer par le chemin du paradis.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 2 “The Grand Bourgeois,” ch. 6 (3.2.6) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:This brother, of whom hardly a memory is left, was a quiet miser, who, being a priest, felt obliged to give alms to the poor whom he met, but never gave them anything more than coppers or worn-out sous, finding thus the means of going to Hell by the road to Paradise.
[tr. Wilbour (1862); tr. Wilbour / Fahnestock / MacAfee (1987)]This brother, who is not much remembered, was a great miser, who, as he was a priest, thought himself bound to give alms to the poor he met, but he never gave them aught but bad or called-in money, thus finding means of going to Hades by the road to Paradise.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]This brother, of whom but little memory remains, was a peaceable miser, who, being a priest, thought himself bound to bestow alms on the poor whom he met, but he never gave them anything except bad or demonetized sous, thereby discovering a means of going to hell by way of paradise.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The brother, whom he scarcely remembered, had been a peaceable skinflint who, being a priest, felt it his duty to give alms to such of the poor as he encountered; but the coins he gave them were always obsolete currency, and thus he found means of going to Hell by way of Paradise.
[tr. Denny (1976)]
Thus it was that with the shadows deepening about him, with his hopes fading one after another, Monsieur Mabeuf had remained serene, rather childishly but profoundly so. His spiritual states resembled the swing of a pendulum. Once set in motion by an illusion, the swing continued for a long time, even after the illusion had vanished. A clock does not stop the moment one loses the key.
[C’est ainsi qu’à travers cet obscurcissement qui se faisait autour de lui, toutes ses espérances s’éteignant l’une après l’autre, M. Mabeuf était resté serein, un peu puérilement, mais très profondément. Ses habitudes d’esprit avaient le va-et-vient d’un pendule. Une fois monté par une illusion, il allait très longtemps, même quand l’illusion avait disparu. Une horloge ne s’arrête pas court au moment précis où l’on en perd la clef.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 5 “The Excellence of Misfortune,” ch. 4 (3.5.4) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Thus it was that amid this darkness which was gathering about him, all his hopes going out one after another, Monsieur Mabeuf had remained serene, somewhat childishly, but very thoroughly. His habits of mind had the swing of a pendulum. Once wound up by an illusion he went a very long lime, even when the illusion had disappeared. A clock does not stop at the very moment you lose the key.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]It was thus that M. Mabeuf remained rather childishly but most profoundly serene, in the obscurity that was enveloping him gradually, and while his hopes were being extinguished in turn. The habits of his mind had the regular movement of a clock, and when he was once wound up by an illusion he went for a very long time, even when the illusion had disappeared. A clock does not stop at the precise moment when the key is lost.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]It is thus that, athwart the cloud which formed about him, when all his hopes were extinguished one after the other, M. Mabeuf remained rather puerilely, but profoundly serene. His habits of mind had the regular swing of a pendulum. Once mounted on an illusion, he went for a very long time, even after the illusion had disappeared. A clock does not stop short at the precise moment when the key is lost.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]So it was that amid this darkness gathering around him, all his hopes dimming one after another, M. Mabeuf had remained serene, somewhat childishly, but very deeply. His state of mind had the swing of a pendulum. Once wound up by an illusion, he went on a long time, even when the illusion had disappeared. A clock does not stop at the very moment you lose the key.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Thus, as the darkness gathered, as all his hopes died, one by one, Monsieur Mabeuf remained serenE, a little childishly, but profoundly so. His mind behaved like a swinging pendulum. Once wound up by an illusion, it kept going for a very long time, even after the illusion was gone. A clock does not stop dead the very moment the key is lost.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
However, as we have just pointed out, brains which are absorbed in some bit of wisdom, or folly, or, as it often happens, in both at once, are but slowly accessible to the things of actual life. Their own destiny is a far-off thing to them. There results from such concentration a passivity, which, if it were the outcome of reasoning, would resemble philosophy. One declines, descends, trickles away, even crumbles away, and yet is hardly conscious of it one’s self. It always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but the awakening is tardy. In the meantime, it seems as though we held ourselves neutral in the game which is going on between our happiness and our unhappiness. We are the stake, and we look on at the game with indifference.
[Du reste, comme nous venons de l’indiquer, les cerveaux absorbés dans une sagesse, ou dans une folie, ou, ce qui arrive souvent, dans les deux à la fois, ne sont que très lentement perméables aux choses de la vie. Leur propre destin leur est lointain. Il résulte de ces concentrations-là une passivité qui, si elle était raisonnée, ressemblerait à la philosophie. On décline, on descend, on s’écoule, on s’écroule même, sans trop s’en apercevoir. Cela finit toujours, il est vrai, par un réveil, mais tardif. En attendant, il semble qu’on soit neutre dans le jeu qui se joue entre notre bonheur et notre malheur. On est l’enjeu, et l’on regarde la partie avec indifférence.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 5 “The Excellence of Misfortune,” ch. 4 (3.5.4) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, or in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are but very slowly permeable by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. There results from such concentrations of mind a passivity which, if it were due to reason, would resemble philosophy . We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly perceive it. This always ends, it is true, by an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, it seems as though we were neutral in the game which is being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look upon the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]As we have remarked, things of this world permeate very slowly brains absorbed in wisdom, or mania, or, as often happens, in both at once. Their own destiny is remote from them. The result of such concentrations is a passiveness which, were it of a reasoning nature, would resemble philosophy. Men sink, pass away, drift away, even crumble away without exactly noticing, though this always ends with a re-awakening, but a tardy one. In the meanwhile, it appears as if they are neutral in the game which is being played between their happiness and misery; they are the stakes, and look on at the game with indifference.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]In general, as we have already suggested, minds absorbed in wisdom or in folly, or in both at once as often happens, are little affected by the vicissitudes of daily life. Their personal destiny is a thing remote from them. Such detachment creates a state of acquiescence which, if it were the outcome of reflection, might be termed philosophical. But they submit to losses and reverses, even to physical decay, without being much aware of them. It is true that in the end there is an awakening, but it is late in coming. In the meantime they stand as it were aloof from the play of personal fortune and misfortune, pawns in a game of which they are detached spectators.
[tr. Denny (1976)]However, as we have just indicated, brains absorbed in wisdom, in folly, or, as often happens, in both at once, are permeated only slowly by the affairs of life. Their own destiny is far from them. From such concentrations of mind comes a passivity which, if due to reason, would resemble philosophy. We decline, we descend, we fall, we are even overthrown, and we hardly notice it. This always ends, it is true, in an awakening, but a tardy one. In the meantime, we seem neutrals in the game being played between our good and our ill fortune. We are the stake, yet we look on the contest with indifference.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]However, as we have just suggested, minds engrossed in wisdom or folly , or, as is often the case, in both at the same time, are only very slowly pervious to matters of everyday life. Their own destiny is far removed from them. resulting from this kind of concentration is a passivity, which, if there were any reasoning behind it, would seem philosophical. Such minds go into a decline, they sink, they languish, they even come to grief without really being aware of it. True, this always ends with an awakening, but a belated one. In the meantime it is as if they had no interest in the game that plays out between their happiness and their unhappiness. They who are themselves as stake watch the game with indifference.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
In fact, were it given to our human eye to see into the consciences of others, we would judge a man much more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks.
[En effet, s’il était donné à nos yeux de chair de voir dans la conscience d’autrui, on jugerait bien plus sûrement un homme d’après ce qu’il rêve que d’après ce qu’il pense.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 3 “Marius,” Book 5 “The Excellence of Misfortune,” ch. 5 (3.5.5) (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:In fact, were it given to our eye of flesh to see into the consciences of others, we should judge a man much more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]In fact, if our eyes of the flesh were allowed to peer into the consciences of our neighbor, a man could be judged far more surely from what he dreams than from what he thinks.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]In fact, had it been given to our eyes of the flesh to gaze into the consciences of others, we should be able to judge a man much more surely according to what he dreams, than according to what he thinks.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Indeed, if our earthly eyes possessed this power of seeing into the hearts of others, we would judge men far more surely by their dreams than by their thoughts.
[tr. Denny (1976)]For had it been given to our eyes of flesh to see into the conscience of others, our judgment of a man would be much sounder were it based on what he dreams rather than on what he thinks.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Thought is the work of the intellect, reverie is its self-indulgence. To substitute day-dreaming for thought is to confuse a poison with a source of nourishment.
[La pensée est le labeur de l’intelligence, la rêverie en est la volupté. Remplacer la pensée par la rêverie, c’est confondre un poison avec une nourriture.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 2 “Eponine,” ch. 1 (4.2.1) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Thought is the labour of the intellect, reverie is its pleasure. To replace thought by reverie is to confound poison with nourishment.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Thought is the labor of the intellect, reveries its voluptuousness; substituting reverie for thought is like confounding poison with nutriment.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Thought is the toil of the intelligence, revery its voluptuousness. To replace thought with revery is to confound a poison with a food.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Thought is the labor of the intellect, reverie its pleasure. To replace thought with reverie is to confound poison with nourishment.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Thought is the exertion of the intellect, daydreaming is its indulgence. To replace thought with daydreaming is to mistake a poison for sustenance.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
A measure of day-dreaming is a good thing, like a drug prudently used; it allays the sometimes virulent fever of the over-active mind, like a cool wind blowing through the brain to smooth the harshness of untrammelled thought; it bridges here and there the gaps, brings things into proportion and blunts the sharper angles. But too much submerges and drowns.
[Une certaine quantité de rêverie est bonne, comme un narcotique à dose discrète. Cela endort les fièvres, quelquefois dures, de l’intelligence en travail, et fait naître dans l’esprit une vapeur molle et fraîche qui corrige les contours trop âpres de la pensée pure, comble çà et là des lacunes et des intervalles, lie les ensembles et estompe les angles des idées. Mais trop de rêverie submerge et noie.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 2 “Eponine,” ch. 1 (4.2.1) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:A certain amount of reverie is good, like a narcotic in discreet doses. It soothes the fever, sometimes high, of the brain at work, and produces in the mind a soft and fresh vapour which corrects the too angular contours of pure thought, fills up the gaps and intervals here and there, binds them together, and blunts the sharp corners of ideas. But too much reverie submerges and drowns.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]A certain amount of reverie is good, like a narcotic taken in discreet doses. It lulls to sleep the at times harsh fevers of the working brain, and produces in the mind a soft and fresh vapor which corrects the too sharp outlines of pure thought, fills up gaps and spaces here and there, and rounds the angles of ideas. But excess of reverie submerges and drowns.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]A certain amount of dreaming is good, like a narcotic in discreet doses. It lulls to sleep the fevers of the mind at labor, which are sometimes severe, and produces in the spirit a soft and fresh vapor which corrects the over-harsh contours of pure thought, fills in gaps here and there, binds together and rounds off the angles of the ideas. But too much dreaming sinks and drowns.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]A certain amount of reverie is good, like a narcotic in discreet doses. It soothes the fever, occasionally high, of the brain at work, and produces in the mind a soft, fresh vapor that corrects the all too angular contours of pure thought, fills up the gaps and intervals here and there, binds them together, and dulls the sharp corners of ideas. But too much reverie submerges and drowns.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]A certain amount of daydreaming does you good, like a narcotic in small doses. It sedates the sometimes severe fevers of the toiling intellect and produces in the mind a cool and gentle mist that softens the over-harsh contours of pure thought, fills in the gaps and intervals here and there, creates cohesion and smooths the sharp edges of ideas. But too much daydreaming drags you down and overwhelms you.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
He had stopped working, and nothing is more dangerous than to stop working. It is a habit you lose. A habit easy to give up and difficult to resume.
[Il avait discontinué son travail, et rien n’est plus dangereux que le travail discontinué ; c’est une habitude qui s’en va. Habitude facile à quitter, difficile à reprendre.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 2 “Eponine,” ch. 1 (4.2.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued labour; it is habit lost. A habit easy to abandon, difficult to resume.
[tr. Wilbour (1862); [Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued work, for it is a habit which a man loses -- a habit easy to give up, but difficult to re-acquire.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Nothing is more dangerous than discontinued work; it is a habit which vanishes. A habit which is easy to get rid of, and difficult to take up again.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Nothing is more dangerous than to stop working. It is a habit that can soon be lost, one that is easily neglected and hard to resume.
[tr. Denny (1976)]
Strange to say, the first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a young girl it is boldness. This is surprising, and yet nothing is more simple. It is the two sexes tending to approach each other and assuming each the other’s qualities.
[Et puis, chose bizarre, le premier symptôme de l’amour vrai chez un jeune homme, c’est la timidité, chez une jeune fille, c’est la hardiesse. Ceci étonne, et rien n’est plus simple pourtant. Ce sont les deux sexes qui tendent à se rapprocher et qui prennent les qualités l’un de l’autre.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 3 “The House in the Rue Plumet,” ch. 6 (4.3.6) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Oddly enough, the first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness. This is surprising, and yet nothing is more natural. It is the two sexes tending to unite, and each acquiring the qualities of the other.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Strange it is, the first symptom of true love in a young man is timidity; in a girl it is boldness. This will surprise, and yet nothing is more simple; the two sexes have a tendency to approach, and each assumes the qualities of the other.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]And besides, although shyness is the first sign of true love in a youth, boldness is its token in a maid. This may seem strange, but nothing could be more simple. The sexes are drawing close, and in doing so each assumes the qualities of the other.
[tr. Denny (1976)]And then, oddly enough, the first symptom of true love in a man is timidity, in a young woman, boldness. This is surprising, and yet nothing is more natural. It is the two sexes tending to unite, and each acquiring the qualities of the other.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
It occurred one evening to the boy Gavroche that he had had nothing to eat all day. Nor, for that matter, had he had anything the day before. It was becoming tiresome, so he resolved to go in search of supper.
[Un soir le petit Gavroche n’avait point mangé; il se souvint qu’il n’avait pas non plus dîné la veille; cela devenait fatigant. Il prit la résolution d’essayer de souper.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 4 “Aid from Below May be Aid from Above,” ch. 2 (4.4.2) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:One evening little Gavroche had had no dinner; he remembered that he had had no dinner also the day before; this was becoming tiresome. He resolved that he would try for some supper.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]One evening little Gavroche had eaten nothing; he remembered that he had not dined either on the previous day, and that was becoming ridiculous, so he formed the resolution to try and sup.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]One evening, little Gavroche had had nothing to eat; he remembered that he had not dined on the preceding day either; this was becoming tiresome. He resolved to make an effort to secure some supper.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]One evening, little Gavroche had had no dinner; he remembered that he had had no dinner the day before either; this was becoming tiresome. He decided to try for some supper.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]It was evening and little Gavroche had not eaten. He remembered he had not had a meal the day before, either. This was becoming tiresome. He made up his mind to try for some supper.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
There are thoughts which are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the posture of the body, the soul is on its knees.
[De certaines pensées sont des prières. Il y a des moments où, quelle que soit l’attitude du corps, l’âme est à genoux.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 5 “The End of Which Does Not Resemble the Beginning,” ch. 4 (4.5.4) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever be the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when the soul is kneeling, no matter what the attitude of the body may be.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body may be, the soul is on its knees.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Certain thoughts are prayers. There are moments when, whatever the attitude of the body, the soul is on its knees.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
At a certain level of wretchedness a kind of spectral indifference takes over, and you see human beings as ghostly presences. Those closest to you are often no more than vague shadowy forms, barely distinct from life’s nebulous background and easily reabsorbed by the invisible.
[À un certain degré de misère, on est gagné par une sorte d’indifférence spectrale, et l’on voit les êtres comme des larves. Vos plus proches ne sont souvent pour vous que de vagues formes de l’ombre, à peine distinctes du fond nébuleux de la vie et facilement remêlées à l’invisible.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 6 “Little Gavroche,” ch. 1 (4.6.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:At a certain depth of misery, men are possessed by a sort of spectral indifference, and look upon their fellow beings as upon goblins. Your nearest relatives are often but vague forms of shadow for you, hardly distinct from the nebulous background of life, and easily reblended with the invisible.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]In a certain stage of misery people are affected by a sort of spectral indifference and regard human beings as ghosts. Your nearest relatives are often to you no more than vague forms of the shadow, hardly to be distinguished from the nebulous back-ground of life, and which easily become blended. again with the invisible.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]When a certain degree of misery is reached, one is overpowered with a sort of spectral indifference, and one regards human beings as though they were spectres. Your nearest relations are often no more for you than vague shadowy forms, barely outlined against a nebulous background of life and easily confounded again with the invisible.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]There is a level of poverty at which we are afflicted with a kind of indifference which causes all things to seem unreal: those closest to us become no more than shadows, scarcely distinguishable against the dark background of our daily life, and easily lost to view.
[tr. Denny (1976)]At a certain depth of misery, people are possessed by a sort of spectral indifference, and look at their fellow beings as at ghosts. Your nearest relatives are often merely vague shadowy forms for you, hardly distinct from the nebulous background of life, and easily blended with the invisible.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
Why? Because. The most terrible of motives, the most unanswerable of retorts — Because.
[Pourquoi ? Parce que. Le plus terrible des motifs et la plus indiscutable des réponses: Parce que.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 6 “Little Gavroche,” ch. 1 (4.6.1) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
On Mme Thenardier hating her sons.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Why? Because. The most terrible of motives and the most unanswerable of responses: Because.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Why? because she did. The most terrible of motives and most indisputable of answers is, Because.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Why? Because. The most terrible and unanswerable of reasons.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Why? Because. The most terrible of motives and the most unanswerable of responses: Because.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Why? Because. The most terrible of motives, the most indisputable of responses. Because.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
But those who do not welcome the future should consider this: in denying progress it is not the future that they condemn, but themselves. They are inoculating themselves with a fatal disease, the past. There is only one way of denying tomorrow, and that is to die.
[Mais que ceux qui ne veulent pas de l’avenir y réfléchissent. En disant non au progrès, ce n’est point l’avenir qu’ils condamnent, c’est eux—mêmes. Ils se donnent une maladie sombre; ils s’inoculent le passé. Il n’y a qu’une manière de refuser Demain, c’est de mourir.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 7 “Argot,” ch. 4 (4.7.4) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:But let those who desire not the future, think of it. In saying no to progress, it is not the future which they condemn, but themselves They give themselves a melancholy disease; they inoculate themselves with the past. There is but one way of refusing To-morrow, that is to die.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]But those who desire no future ought to reflect; by saying no to progress they do not condemn the future, but themselves, and they give themselves a deadly disease by inoculating themselves with the past. There is only one way of refusing to-morrow, and that is by dying.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]But let those who do not desire a future reflect on this matter. When they say "no" to progress, it is not the future but themselves that they are condemning. They are giving themselves a sad malady; they are inoculating themselves with the past. There is but one way of rejecting To-morrow, and that is to die.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]But those who do not want the future should think it over. In saying no to progress, it is not the future that they condemn, but themselves. They are giving themselves a melancholy disease; they are inoculating themselves with the past. There is only one way of refusing tomorrow, and that is to die.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
Great perils have this beauty, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.
[Les grands périls ont cela de beau qu’ils mettent en lumière la fraternité des inconnus.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 12 “Corinth,” ch. 4 (4.12.4) (1862) [tr. Wilbour (1862)]
(Source)
On the varied Parisians working together at building the barricades.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Great dangers have this beauty about them, that they throw light on the fraternity of strangers.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Great perils have this fine characteristic, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]It is the ennobling quality of danger that it brings to light the fraternity of strangers.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Great perils share this beauty, that they bring to light the fraternity of strangers.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]That is the beauty of great danger, it brings out the fraternity of strangers.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
There is such a thing as internal collapse. Despairing certitude does not infiltrate a human being without displacing and disrupting certain profound elements that sometimes constitute the man himself. Grief, when it reaches this pitch, routs all strength of conscience. These are deadly crises. Few of us emerge from them true to ourselves and steadfast in our duty. When the limit of endurance is exceeded, the most unshakeable virtue is undermined.
[Il y a des effondrements intérieurs. La pénétration d’une certitude désespérante dans l’homme ne se fait point sans écarter et rompre de certains éléments profonds qui sont quelquefois l’homme lui-même. La douleur, quand elle arrive à ce degré, est un sauve-qui-peut de toutes les forces de la conscience. Ce sont là des crises fatales. Peu d’entre nous en sortent semblables à eux-mêmes et fermes dans le devoir. Quand la limite de la souffrance est débordée, la vertu la plus imperturbable se déconcerte.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “Saint Denis,” Book 15 “The Rue de L’Homme Armé,” ch. 1 (4.15.1) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Valjean "internally collapsing" at the realization that Cosette plans to leave him for Marius, and deciding to track Marius down to confront or even kill him.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:There are interior subsoilings. The penetration of a torturing certainty into man does not occur without breaking up and pulverising certain deep elements which are sometimes the man himself. Grief, when it reaches this stage, is a panic of all the forces of the soul. These are fatal crises. Few among us come through them without change, and firm in duty. When the limit of suffering is overpassed, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]There are such things as internal landslides; the penetration of a desperate certainty into a man is not effected without removing and breaking certain profound elements which are at times the man himself. Grief, when it attains that pitch, is a frantic flight of all the forces of the conscience, and such crises are fatal Few among us emerge from them equal to ourselves and firm in our duty, for when the limit of suffering is exceeded the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]There is such a thing as the sudden giving way of the inward subsoil. A despairing certainty does not make its way into a man without thrusting aside and breaking certain profound elements which, in some cases, are the very man himself. Grief, when it attains this shape, is a headlong flight of all the forces of the conscience. These are fatal crises. Few among us emerge from them still like ourselves and firm in duty. When the limit of endurance is overstepped, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]There is such a thing as spiritual collapse. The thrust of a desperate certainty into a man cannot occur without the disruption of certain profound elements which are sometimes the man himself. Anguish, when it has reached this stage, becomes a panic-flight of all the powers of conscience. There are mortal crises from which few of us emerge in our right mind, with our sense of duty still intact. When the limit of suffering is overpassed the most impregnable virtue is plunged in disarray.
[tr. Denny (1976)]There are interior collapses. The penetration of a torturing certainty within man does not occur without breaking up and pulverizing certain deep elements that are sometimes the man himself. Grief, when it reaches this level, is a panic of all the forces of consciousness. These are fatal crises. Few among us come through them unchanged and firm in duty. When the limit of suffering is topped, the most imperturbable virtue is disconcerted.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
Certainly the influence of the past is very strong at the present time; it is reviving, and this rejuvenation of a corpse is surprising. It is on the march, and it seems to be winning — a dead thing yet a conqueror! It comes with its army of superstitions, its sword, which is despotism, its banner, which is ignorance, and in recent years it has won ten battles. It advances, laughs, and threatens; it is at our door.
[Le passé, il est vrai, est très fort à l’heure où nous sommes. Il reprend. Ce rajeunissement d’un cadavre est surprenant. Le voici qui marche et qui vient. Il semble vainqueur ; ce mort est un conquérant. Il arrive avec sa légion, les superstitions, avec son épée, le despotisme, avec son drapeau, l’ignorance ; depuis quelque temps il a gagné dix batailles. Il avance, il menace, il rit, il est à nos portes.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “St. Denis,” Book 7 “Argot,” ch. 4 (4.7.4) (1862) [tr. Denny (1976)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:The past, it is true, is very strong at the present hour. It is reviving. This revivification of a corpse is surprising. Here it is walking and advancing. It seems victorious; this dead man is a conqueror. He comes with his legion, the superstitions, with his sword, despotism, with his banner, ignorance; within a little time he has won ten battles. He advances, he threatens, he laughs, he is at our doors.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]The past, we grant, is very powerful at the present hour, and is beginning again. This rejuvenescence of a corpse is surprising, yet here it is, marching straight toward us. The dead man appears a victor, and is a conqueror; he arrives with his legion, superstitions; with his sword, despotism; with his banner, ignorance; and during sometime past he has gained ten battles. He advances, he threatens, he laughs, he is at our gates.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]The past is very strong, it is true, at the present moment. It censures. This rejuvenation of a corpse is surprising. Behold, it is walking and advancing. It seems a victor; this dead body is a conqueror. He arrives with his legions, superstitions, with his sword, despotism, with his banner, ignorance; a while ago, he won ten battles. He advances, he threatens, he laughs, he is at our doors.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]The past, it is true, is very strong right now. It is reviving. This revivification of a corpse is surprising. Here it is walking and advancing. It seems victorious; this dead man is a conqueror. He comes with his legion, superstitions, with his sword, despotism, with his banner, ignorance; within a little time he has won ten battles. He advances, he threatens, he laughs, he is at our door.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]At the moment, it is true, the past is very strong. It is reviving. This rejuvenation of a corpse is astounding. Back on its feet again, here it comes. It looks victorious. This defunct is a conqueror, it arrives with its legion -- superstitions -- with its sword -- despotism -- with its banner -- ignorance. Recently, it has won a dozen battles. It is advancing, threatening, laughing, it is at our gates.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
Will there be a future? We feel we might almost ask ourselves this question when we see so much terrible darkness. Grim confrontation between the selfish and the wretched. In the selfish, prejudices, the ignorance of a superior education, appetite fed by overindulgence, the insensitivity of an indurating prosperity, fear of suffering that in some extends to an aversion to those who suffer, relentless complacency, an ego so inflated it denies access to the soul. In the wretched, greed, envy, a hatred of seeing others enjoying themselves, the convulsions of the human beast within them seeking satisfaction, hearts befogged, sadness, need, fatalism, ignorance impure and simple.
[L’avenir arrivera-t-il? il semble qu’on peut presque se faire cette question quand on voit tant d’ombre terrible. Sombre face-à-face des égoïstes et des misérables. Chez les égoïstes, les préjugés, les ténèbres de l’éducation riche, l’appétit croissant par l’enivrement, un étourdissement de prospérité qui assourdit, la crainte de souffrir qui, dans quelques-uns, va jusqu’à l’aversion des souffrants, une satisfaction implacable, le moi si enflé qu’il ferme l’âme; chez les misérables, la convoitise, l’envie, la haine de voir les autres jouir, les profondes secousses de la bête humaine vers les assouvissements, les cœurs pleins de brume, la tristesse, le besoin, la fatalité, l’ignorance impure et simple.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 4 “St. Denis,” Book 7 “Argot,” ch. 4 (4.7.4) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Will the future come? It seems that we may almost ask this question when we see such terrible shadow. Sullen face-to-face of the selfish and the miserable. On the part of the selfish, prejudices, the darkness of the education of wealth, appetite increasing through intoxication, a stupefaction of prosperity which deafens, a dread of suffering which, with some, is carried even to aversion for sufferers, an implacable satisfaction, the me so puffed up that it closes the soul; on the part of the miserable, covetousness, envy, hatred of seeing others enjoy, the deep yearnings of the human animal towards the gratifications, hearts full of gloom, sadness, want, fatality, ignorance impure and simple.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Will the future arrive? it seems as we may almost ask this question on seeing so much terrible shadow. There is a somber, face-to-face meeting of the egotists and the wretched. In the egotist we trace prejudices, the cloudiness of a caste education, appetite growing with intoxication, and prosperity that stuns, a fear of suffering which in some goes so far as an aversion from the sufferers, an implacable satisfaction, and the feeling of self so swollen that it closes the soul. In the wretched we find covetousness, envy, the hatred of seeing others successful, the profound bounds of the human wild beast at satisfaction, and hearts full of mist, sorrow, want, fatality, and impure and simple ignorance.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Will the future arrive? It seems as though we might almost put this question, when we behold so much terrible darkness. Melancholy face-to-face encounter of selfish and wretched. On the part of the selfish, the prejudices, shadows of costly education, appetite increasing through intoxication, a giddiness of prosperity which dulls, a fear of suffering which, in some, goes as far as an aversion for the suffering, an implacable satisfaction, the I so swollen that it bars the soul; on the side of the wretched covetousness, envy, hatred of seeing others enjoy, the profound impulses of the human beast towards assuaging its desires, hearts full of mist, sadness, need, fatality, impure and simple ignorance.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]Will the future ever arrive? The question seems almost justified when one considers the shadows looming ahead, the sombre confrontation of egoists and outcasts. On the side of the egoists, prejudice -- that darkness of a rich education -- appetite that grows with intoxication, the bemusement of prosperity which blunts the sense, the fear of suffering which in some cases goes so far as to hate all sufferers, and unshakeable complacency, the ego so inflated it stifles the soul; and on the side of the outcasts, greed and envy, resentment at the happiness of others, the turmoil of the human animal in search of personal fulfilment, hearts filled with fog, misery, needs, and fatalism, and simple, impure ignorance.
[tr. Denny (1976)]Will the future come? We can almost ask this question, it seems, when we see such terrible shadows. Sullen face-to-face encounter of the selfish and the miserable. On the side of the selfish, prejudices, the darkness of the education of wealth, appetite increasing through intoxication, a stultifying of prosperity, which deafens, a dread of suffering taken, for some, as far as an aversion to sufferers, an implacable satisfaction, the self so puffed up it closes the soul; on the side of the miserable, covetousness, envy, hatred of seeing others enjoy, the deep yearnings of the human animal toward gratification, hearts filled with gloom, sadness, want, inevitability, ignorance impure and simple.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
There are people who observe the rules of honor as one observes the stars, from a great distance.
[Il y a des gens qui observent les règles de l’honneur comme on observe les étoiles, de très loin.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 1 “The War Between Four Walls,” ch. 21 (5.1.21) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
Combeferre, on those leaders who had promised on their honor to support the barricades but were nowhere to be seen when the government troops attacked.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:There are people who observe the rules of honour as we observe the stars, from afar off.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]They are people who observe the rules of honor as they do the stars, a long distance off.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]There are people who observe the rules of honour as we do the stars, from a very long way off.
[tr. Denny (1976)]There are people who observe the rules of honour as we observe the stars, from far off.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
Let the one fight for his flag, and the other for his ideal, and let both of them imagine that they are fighting for their country; the struggle will be colossal.
[Que l’un combatte pour son drapeau, et que l’autre combatte pour son idéal, et qu’ils s’imaginent tous les deux combattre pour la patrie; la lutte sera colossale.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 1 “The War Between Four Walls,” ch. 21 (5.1.21) (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
On soldiers and revolutionaries.(Source (French)). Alternate translations:Let the one fight for his flag, and the other for his ideal, and let them both imagine that they are fighting for the country; the strife will be colossal.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]Let one fight for his flag and the other combat for his ideal, and let them both imagine that they are contending for their country, and the struggle will be colossal.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]Let the one fight for his flag, and the other for his ideal, and let them both imagine they are fighting for the country; the strife will be colossal.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]Let the one fight for his flag and the other for his ideal, and let both imagine they are fighting for their country. The struggle will be tremendous.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
You’ve landed the winning number in the lottery: love in matrimony. You’ve won the big prize, look after it well, keep it under lock and key, don’t squander it, adore each other, and never mind the rest. Believe what I’m telling you. It’s good sense. Good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other. Every man has his own way of adoring God. Heavens above! the best way to adore God is to love your wife.
[Vous avez chipé à la loterie le bon numéro, l’amour dans le sacrement ; vous avez le gros lot, gardez-le bien, mettez-le sous clef, ne le gaspillez pas, adorez-vous, et fichez-vous du reste. Croyez ce que je dis là. C’est du bon sens. Bon sens ne peut mentir. Soyez-vous l’un pour l’autre une religion. Chacun a sa façon d’adorer Dieu. Saperlotte ! la meilleure manière d’adorer Dieu, c’est d’aimer sa femme.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 6 “The White Night,” ch 2 (5.6.2) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Toast by M. Gillenormand at the wedding of Marius and Cosette.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:You have filched the good number in the lottery, a love-match; you have the highest prize, take good care of it, put it under lock and key, don’t squander it, worship each other, and snap your fingers at the rest. Believe what I tell you. It is good sense. Good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other. Every one has his own way of worshipping God. Zounds! the best way to worship God is to love your wife.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]You have drawn the good number in the lottery, love in the sacrament. You have the prize number, so keep it carefully under lock and key. Do not squander it. Adore each other, and a fig for the rest. Believe what I tell you, then, for it is good sense, and good sense cannot deceive. Be to one another a religion, for each man has his own way of adoring God. Saperlotte! the best way of adoring God is to love one’s wife.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]You have filched the winning number in the lottery; you have gained the great prize, guard it well, keep it under lock and key, do not squander it, adore each other and snap your fingers at all the rest. Believe what I say to you. It is good sense. And good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other. Each man has his own fashion of adoring God. Saperlotte! the best way to adore God is to love one's wife.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]You have drawn the winning number in the lottery and you must treasure it. Each must be a religion to the other. We all have our own way of worshipping God, but the best of all, Heaven knows, is to love one’s wife.
[tr. Denny (1976)]You have filched the good number in the lottery, a love match; you have the big prize, take good care of it, put it under lock and key, don't squander it, worship each other, and snap your fingers at the rest. Believe what I tell you. It is good sense. Good sense cannot lie. Be a religion to each other. Everyone has his own way of worshiping God. The best way to worship God is to love your wife.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
To love, or to have loved, is enough. Ask for nothing more. There is no other pearl to be found in life’s shadowy convolutions. To love is an achievement.
[Aimer ou avoir aimé, cela suffit. Ne demandez rien ensuite. On n’a pas d’autre perle à trouver dans les plis ténébreux de la vie. Aimer est un accomplissement.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 6 “The White Night,” ch. 2 (5.6.2) (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Concluding the chapter of the wedding of Marius and Cosette.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:To love or to have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life. To love is a consummation.
[tr. Wilbour (1862); tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]To love or to have loved is sufficient; ask nothing more after that. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life, for love is a consummation.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]To love, or to have loved, -- this suffices. Demand nothing more. There is no other pearl to be found in the shadowy folds of life. To love is a fulfilment.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]To love or to have loved is all-sufficing. We must not ask for more. No other pearl is to be found in the shadowed folds of life. To love is an accomplishment.
[tr. Denny (1976)]
So I’m leaving you now, my children. Love each other always. That’s about the only thing in the world that matters: loving each other.
[ Je vais donc m’en aller, mes enfants. Aimez-vous bien toujours. Il n’y a guère autre chose que cela dans le monde: s’aimer.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 9 “Supreme Shadow, Supreme Dawn,” ch. 5 (5.9.5) [Jean Valjean] (1862) [tr. Donougher (2013)]
(Source)
Jean Valjean to Marius and Cosette, on his death bed.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:So I am going away, my children. Love each other dearly always. There is scarcely anything else in the world but that: to love one another.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]I am going away, my children. Love each other dearly and always. There is no other thing in the world but that; love one another.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]I am on the verge of departure, my children. Love each other well and always. There is nothing else but that in the world: love for each other.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]And now I must leave you, my children. Love one another always. There is nothing else that matters in this world except love.
[tr. Denny (1976)]So I am going away, my children. Love each other dearly always. There is scarcely anything else in the world but that: to love one another.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
It is nothing to die; it is horrible not to live.
[Ce n’est rien de mourir; c’est affreux de ne pas vivre.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 9 “Supreme Shadow, Supreme Dawn,” ch. 5 (5.9.5) [Jean Valjean] (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
Spoken to Cosette and Marius (and his doctor) as he is dying.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:It is nothing to die; it is frightful not to live.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]It is nothing to die, but it is frightful not to live.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]It is nothing to die; it is dreadful not to live.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]To die is nothing; but it is terrible not to live.
[tr. Denny (1976)]It’s nothing to die. It’s dreadful not to live.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
He is asleep. Though his mettle was sorely tried,
He lived, and when he lost his angel, died.
It happened calmly, on its own,
The way night comes when day is done.[Il dort. Quoique le sort fût pour lui bien étrange,
Il vivait. Il mourut quand il n’eut plus son ange,
La chose simplement d’elle-même arriva,
Comme la nuit se fait lorsque le jour s’en va.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Part 5 “Jean Valjean,” Book 9 “Supreme Shadow, Surpreme Dawn,” ch. 6 (5.9.6) (1862) [tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]
(Source)
These final lines of the book are an epitaph once penciled on the stone over Valjean's unmarked grave. Wilbour and Wraxall leave the lines in French.
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:He sleeps. Although his fate was very strange, he lived. He died when he had no longer his angel. The thing came to pass simply, of itself, as the night comes when day is gone.
[tr. Hapgood (1887)]He sleeps; although so much he was denied,
He lived. And when his dear love left him, died.
It happened of itself, in the calm way
That in the evening night-time follows day.
[tr. Denny (1976)]He sleeps. Though fate dealt with him strangely,
He lived. Bereft of his angel, he died.
It came about simplly, of itself,
As night follows when the day is ended.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
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.
[Tant qu’il existera, par le fait des lois et des mœurs, une damnation sociale créant artificiellement, en pleine civilisation, des enfers, et compliquant d’une fatalité humaine la destinée qui est divine; tant que les trois problèmes du siècle, la dégradation de l’homme par le prolétariat, la déchéance de la femme par la faim, l’atrophie de l’enfant par la nuit, ne seront pas résolus; tant que, dans de certaines régions, l’asphyxie sociale sera possible; en d’autres termes, et à un point de vue plus étendu encore, tant qu’il y aura sur la terre ignorance et misère, des livres de la nature de celui-ci pourront ne pas être inutiles.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Les Misérables, Preface (1862) [tr. Hapgood (1887)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translations:So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation, which, in the face of civilization, artificially creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny that is divine, with human fatality; so long as the three problems of the age -- the degradation of man by poverty, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the dwarfing of childhood by physical and spiritual night -- are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible ; in other words, and from a yet more extended point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, books like this cannot be useless.
[tr. Wilbour (1862)]As long as there shall exist, as a consequence of laws and customs, a social damnation artificially creating hells in the midst of civilization, and complicating the destiny which is divine with a fatality which is human; as long as the three problems of the age -- the degradation of man by the proletariat, the ruin of woman by hunger, the atrophy of the child by the night—are not solved; as long as in certain regions social asphyxia shall be possible; in other terms, and from a still more extended point of view, as long as there shall be on the earth ignorance and wretchedness, books of the nature of this one cannot be useless.
[tr. Wraxall (1862)]While through the working of laws and customs there continues to exist a condition of social condemnation which artificially creates a human hell within civilization, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; while the three great problems of this century, the degradation of man in the proletariat, the subjection of women through hunger, the atrophy of the child by darkness, continue unresolved; while in some regions social asphyxia remains possible; in other words, and in still wider terms, while ignorance and poverty persist on earth, books such as this cannot fail to be of value.
[tr. Denny (1976)]So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social condemnation which, in the midst of civilization, artificially creates a hell on earth, and complicates with human fatality a destiny that is divine; so long as the three problems of the century -- the degradation of man by the exploitation of his labor, the ruin of woman by starvation, and the atrophy of childhood by physical and spiritual night -- are not solved; so long as, in certain regions, social asphyxia shall be possible; in other words, and, from a still broader point of view, so long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, there should be a need for books such as this.
[tr. Wilbour/Fahnestock/MacAfee (1987)]As long as through the workings of laws and customs there exists a. damnation-by-society artificially creating hells int he very midst of civilization and complicating destiny, which is divine, with a man-made fate; as long as the three problems of the age are not resolved: the debasement of of men through proletarianization, the moral degradation of women through hunger, and the blighting of children by keeping them in darkness; as long as in certain strata social suffocation is possible; in other words and from an even broader perspective, as long as there are ignorance and poverty on earth, books of this kind may serve some purpose.
[tr. Donougher (2013)]
To put everything in balance is good, to put everything in harmony is better. Above the scales there’s the lyre.
[Mettre tout en équilibre, c’est bien; mettre tout en harmonie, c’est mieux. Au-dessus de la balance il y a la lyre.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Ninety-Three [Quatrevingt-Treize], Part 3, Book 7, ch. 5 (1874) [tr. (1962)]
(Source)
Gauvain, arguing for a "republic of the ideal" rather than Cimourdain's law-focused "republic of the absolute."
(Source (French)). Other translations:Putting everything in equilibrium is good; making everything harmonious is better. Above the scales is the lyre.
[tr. Dole (1885)]An accurate adjustment of proportions is a good thing, but harmony is still better. The lyre stands higher than the scales.
[tr. Delano (1888)]To set all in equilibrium, is well; to put all in harmony, it is better. Above the balance is the lyre.
[tr. Gray (1903)]To set all in equilibrium, it is well; to put all in harmony, it is better. Above the Balance is the Lyre.
[tr. Gray/Benedict (1988)]
Popularity? It is glory’s small change.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Ruy Blas, 3.5 (1838)
DON SALLUSTE: Popularity? It is glory’s small change.
[La popularité ? c’est la gloire en gros sous.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Ruy Blas, Act 3, sc. 5 (1838) [Latham & Curle (1909)]
(Source)
This translation, which is not sourced in the quote book in question, was picked up by Bartlett's and since spread in popularity.
The passage this is from is, in most translations, cut from the play or paraphrased.
(Source (French)). Other translation:And popularity? A rattling noise, believed to be
Glory.
[tr. Crosland (1995)]
In the relations of man with the animals, with the flowers, with the objects of creation, there is a great ethic, scarcely perceived as yet, which will at length break forth into light and which will be the corollary and compliment to human ethics.
[Il y a dans les rapports de l’homme avec les bêtes, avec les fleurs, avec les objets de la création, toute une grande morale à peine entrevue encore, mais qui finira par se faire jour et qui sera le corollaire et le complément de la morale humaine.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
The Alps and Pyrenees [Alpes et Pyrénées], “The Pyrenees,” ch. 11 “Pampeluna,” 1843-08-11 (1867) [tr. Manson (1898)]
(Source)
An invasion of armies can be resisted; an invasion of ideas cannot be resisted.
[On résiste à l’invasion des armées ; on ne résiste pas à l’invasion des idées.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
The History of a Crime [Histoire d’un Crime], ch. 10, Conclusion [tr. Joyce & Locker (1878)]
(Source)
Garson O'Toole, Burton Stevenson, and Ralph Keyes suggest this phrase morphed in English in the early 1940s into "One cannot resist an idea whose time has come," which is also widely attributed to Hugo. For more discussion about this quotation, this variation, and more, see:(Source (French)). Other translations:
- Quote Origin: Nothing Is More Powerful Than an Idea Whose Time Has Come – Quote Investigator®.
- Stevensons Book Of Quotations 4th Edition: Burton Stevenson.
- The Quote Verifier: Ralph Keyes
One resists the invasion of armies; one does not resist the invasion of ideas.
[tr. Atheneum Society (1878)]An invasion of armies can be resisted, but there is no resistance to an invasion of ideas.
[tr. Smith (1888)]One can resist the invasion of armies, but not the invasion of ideas.
[Source (1900)]One withstands the invasion of armies; one does not withstand the invasion of ideas.
[E.g. (2012)]One can resist the invasion of armies; one cannot resist the invasion of ideas.
[E.g. (2021)]
“Their vanity is full of phantoms which move as in a sublime night, armed with helm and cuirass, spurs on their heels and the sceptres in their hands, saying in a grave voice, ‘We are the ancestors!’ The canker-worms eat the roots, and panoplies eat the people. Why not? Are we to change the laws? The peerage is part of the order of society. Do you know that there is a duke in Scotland who can ride ninety miles without leaving his own estate? Do you know that the Archbishop of Canterbury has a revenue of £40,000 a year? Do you know that her Majesty has £700,000 sterling from the civil list, besides castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies, freeholds, prebendaries, tithes, rent, confiscations, and fines, which bring in over a million sterling? Those who are not satisfied are hard to please.”
“Yes,” murmured Gwynplaine sadly, “the paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor.”— Leur vanité est pleine de fantômes qui s’y promènent comme dans une nuit sublime, armés, casqués, cuirassés, éperonnés, le bâton d’empire à la main, et disant d’une voix grave: Nous sommes les aïeux ! Les scarabées mangent les racines, et les panoplies mangent le peuple. Pourquoi pas? Allons-nous changer les lois? La seigneurie fait partie de l’ordre. Sais-tu qu’il y a un duc en Écosse qui galope trente lieues sans sortir de chez lui? Sais-tu que le lord archevêque de Canterbury a un million de Francs de revenu? Sais-tu que sa majesté a par an sept cent mille livres sterling de liste civile, sans compter les châteaux, forêts, domaines, fiefs, tenances, alleux, prébendes, dîmes et redevances, confiscations et amendes, qui dépassent un million sterling ? Ceux qui ne sont pas contents sont difficiles.
— Oui, murmura Gwynplaine pensif, c’est de l’enfer des pauvres qu’est fait le paradis des riches.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
The Man Who Laughs [L’Homme qui rit; The Laughing Man; By Order of the King], Part 2, Book 2, ch. 11 (2.2.11) (1869) [Authorized trans. (1871)]
(Source)
Ursus and Gwynplaine, at the end of the former's 11-page rant about the rich and powerful.
(Source (French)). Other translations:"Their vanity is full of phantoms which move as in a sublime night, armed with helm and cuirass, spurs on their heels and sceptres in their hands, saying in a grave voice, 'We are the ancestors!' Canker-worms eat the roots, and panoplies eat the people. Why not? Can we expect to change the laws? The peerage is part of the order of society. Do you know that there is a duke in Scotland who can ride ninety miles without leaving his own estate? Do you know that the Archbishop of Canterbury has a revenue of £40,000 a year? Do you know that her Majesty has £700,000 sterling from the civil list, besides castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies, freeholds, prebendaries, tithes, rent, confiscations, and fines, which bring in over a million sterling? Those who are not satisfied are hard to please."
"Yes," murmured Gwynplaine, sadly; "the paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor."
[tr. Unknown (1869)]"Their vanity is full of phantoms, which stalk therein as in a sublime night, armed, helmed, cuirassed, spurred, the wand of empire in their hands, and saying in a grave voice: 'We are ancestors!' Beetles devour roots, and panoplies of armor devour peoples. Why not? Shall we change the laws? The lords form part of order. Do you know that there is a duke in Scotland who can gallop thirty leagues without leaving his own domains? Do you know that the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury has an income of a million francs of France? Do you know that her majesty has seven hundred thousand pounds sterling a year from the civil list, not reckoning castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies, allodial tenures, prebendary ships, tithes, and quitrents, confiscations and fines, which exceed a million sterling. Those who are not content are hard to suit."
"Yes," muttered Gwynplaine, thoughtfully, "it is of the hell of the poor that the paradise of the rich is made."
[tr. Hapgood (1888)]"Their vanity is full of phantoms which walk about in it, as in a sublime night, armed, helmeted, cuirassed, spurred, the staff of empire in their hands, and saying in a grave voice: 'We are the ancestors!' Beetles devour roots, and panoplies devour the people. Why not? Are we going to change the laws? The lords form a part of the order of things. Do you know that there is a duke in Scotland who can gallop thirty leagues without leaving his own land? Do you know that the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury has a revenue of a million French francs? Do you know that Her Majesty has seven hundred thousand pounds sterling of civil list a year, without counting castles, forests, domains, fiefs, tenancies, freeholds, prebendaries, tithes and dues, confiscations and fines which exceed a million sterling? Those who are not satisfied, are hard to please."
"Yes," murmured Gwymplaine, thoughtfully. "The paradise of the rich is made out of the hell of the poor."
[tr. Phillips (1894)]"Their vanity is full of ghosts who walk there as in a sublime night, armed, helmeted, cuirassed, spurred, with the staff of empire in their hands, and sayin with a grave voice: 'We are the forefathers!' The beetles eat the roots, and the panoplies eat the people. Why not? Shall we change the laws? The lordship is part of the order. Do you know that there is a duke in Scotland who gallops thirty leagues without leaving his house? Do you know that the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury has an income of a million French? Do you know that his majesty has a yearly civil list of seven hundred thousand pounds sterling, not counting castles, forests, estates, fiefs, tenements, alleys, prebends, tithes and dues, confiscations and fines, which exceed one million sterling? Those who are not happy are difficult."
"Yes," murmured Gwynplaine thoughtfully, "from the hell of the poor is made the paradise of the rich.
[tr. Lavelle (2003)]
But it is just those books which a man possesses, but does not read, which constitute the most suspicious evidence against him. The Spanish Inquisition have deliberated on that point, and have come to a conclusion that places the matter beyond further doubt.
[Mais ce sont précisément les livres qu’un homme ne lit pas qui l’accusent les plus. L’inquisition d’Espagne a jugé ce point, et l’a mis hors de doute.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Toilers of the Sea [Les Travailleurs de la Mer], Book 1, ch. 4 (1866) [tr. Thomas (1911)]
(Source)
On an inherited book in Latin on the protagonist's bookshelf which, his not knowing Latin, makes folk suspicious. (The book is a 17th Century treatise on rhubarb.)
(Source (French)). Other translations:But it is exactly for those very books that a man does not peruse that he is condemned. The history of the Inquisition has proved this to us.
[tr. Campbell (1887)]But it is just those books which a man does not read which condemn him the most. The Spanish Inquisition passed judgment on this point and placed it beyond a doubt.
[tr. Hapgood (1888)]But it is just those books that a man does not read that provide evidence against him. The Spanish Inquisition considered this point and put the matter beyond doubt.
[tr. Hogarth (2002)]
It is just those books which a man possesses, but does not read, which constitute the most suspicious evidence against him.
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Toilers of the Sea, Book 1, ch. 4 (1866)
Concision in style, precision in thought, decision in life.
[Concision dans le style, précision dans la pensée, décision dans la vie.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Victor Hugo’s Intellectual Autobiography [Postscriptum de ma Vie], “Thoughts,” sec. 3 (1901) [tr. O’Rourke (1907)]
(Source)
Change your opinions, keep to your principles;
change your leaves, keep intact your roots.[Changez vos opinions, gardez vos principes;
changez vos feuilles, gardez intactes vos racines.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Victor Hugo’s Intellectual Autobiography [Postscriptum de ma Vie], “Thoughts,” sec. 5 (1901) [tr. O’Rourke (1907)]
(Source)
God manifests himself to us in the first degree through the life of the universe, and in the second through the thought of man. The second manifestation is not less holy than the first. The first is named Nature, the second is named Art. Hence this reality: the poet is a priest.
[Dieu se manifeste à nous au premier degré à travers la vie de l’univers, et au deuxième degré à travers la pensée de l’homme.
La deuxième manifestation n’est pas moins sacrée que la première. La première s’appelle la Nature, la deuxième s’appelle l’Art. De là cette réalité : le poëte est prêtre.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
William Shakespeare, Part 1, Book 2 “Men of Genius [Les Génies], ch. 1 (1.2.1) (1864) [tr. Anderson (1886)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Another translation:God manifests himself to us in the first degree through the life of the universe, and in the second through the thought of man. The second manifestation is not less holy than the first. The first is named Nature, the second is named Art. Hence this reality: the poet is a priest.
[tr. Baillot (1864)]
That posterity may be a rising instead of a setting star is man’s consolation. Time present works for time to come. Work, then, and hope.
[Que l’avenir soit un orient au lieu d’être un couchant, c’est la consolation de l’homme. Le temps présent travaille au temps futur, donc travaillez et espérez.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
William Shakespeare, Part 1, Book 2 “Men of Genius [Les Génies], ch. 2 (1.2.2) (1864) [tr. Baillot (1864)]
(Source)
Speaking of Ezekiel's message in the Bible, as one of what Hugo considered the great authors/poets of history.(Source (French)). Another translation:It is man's consolation that the future is to be a sunrise instead of a sunset. Time presents works for time to come; work, then, and hope!
[tr. Anderson (1886)]
Music expresses that which cannot be said and on which it is impossible to be silent.
[Ce qu’on ne peut dire et ce qu’on ne peut taire, la musique l’exprime.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
William Shakespeare, Part 1, Book 2, ch. 4 (1864) [tr. Baillot]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Alternate translation:Music expresses that which cannot be said, and which cannot be suppressed.
[tr. Anderson (1886)]
It is one of the most difficult yet necessary things in life to learn to disdain. Disdain protects and crushes. It is a breastplate and a club. You have enemies? Why, it is the story of every man who has done a great deed or created a new idea. It is the cloud which thunders around everything, which shines. Fame must have enemies, as light must have gnats. Do not bother yourself about it; disdain. Keep your mind serene as you keep your life clear. Do not give your enemies the satisfaction of thinking that they cause you grief or pain. Be happy, be cheerful, be disdainful, be firm.
[C’est une des choses les plus difficiles et les plus nécessaires de la vie que d’apprendre à dédaigner. Le dédain protège et écrase. C’est une cuirasse et une massue. Vous avez des ennemis? Mais c’est l’histoire de tout homme qui a fait une action grande ou créé une idée neuve. C’est la nuée qui bruit autour de tout ce qui brille. Il faut que la renommée ait des ennemis comme il faut que la lumière ait des moucherons. Ne vous en inquiétez pas; dédaignez! Ayez la sérénité dans votre esprit comme vous avez la limpidité dans votre vie. Ne donnez pas à vos ennemis cette joie de penser qu’ils vous affligent et qu’ils vous troublent. Soyez content, soyez joyeux, soyez dédaigneux, soyez fort.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Diary (1845-12-07), “Villemain,” Things Seen [Choses Vues], Vol. 1 (1887)
(Source)
Dictated 1845-12-03 by Hugo to Juliette Drouet.
Sometimes attributed (in a shortened form) to Winston Churchill.
(Source (French)). Another translation:One of the hardest and most important things in life is learning to treat things with disdain. Disdain can protect, it can crush; it’s a breastplate and a club. You’ve got enemies? Why, that’s the story of every man who has done a great deed or come up with a new idea. It’s the thundercloud around everything that shines. Fame will attract enemies just as light will attract insects. Don’t fret about it. Treat it with disdain. Keep your mind calm, just as you keep your life clean. Don’t give your enemies the satisfaction of thinking that they’re hurting you and upsetting you. Be happy and cheerful and disdainful and strong.
[tr. Blackmore (2004)]
To love is to act.
[Aimer, c’est agir.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Journal (1885-05-19)
(Source)
Last words of his diary, written days before his death on May 22. (I have seen it identified as two days, three days, and two weeks).
While identified with his diary, the "manuscript" is a single page of watermarked paper.
You are right, sir, when you tell me that Les Misérables is written for all nations. I do not know whether it will be read by all, but I wrote it for all. It is addressed to England as well as to Spain, to Italy as well as to France, to Germany as well as to Ireland, to Republics which have slaves as well as to Empires which have serfs. Social problems overstep frontiers. The sores of the human race, those great sores which cover the globe, do not halt at the red or blue lines traced upon the map.
In every place where man is ignorant and despairing, in every place where woman is sold for bread, wherever the child suffers for lack of the book which should instruct him and of the hearth which should warm him, the book of Les Misérables knocks at the door and says: “Open to me, I come for you.”[Vous avez raison, monsieur, quand vous me dites que le livre les Misérables est écrit pour tous les peuples. Je ne sais s’il sera lu par tous, mais je l’ai écrit pour tous. Il s’adresse à l’Angleterre autant qu’à l’Espagne, à l’Italie autant qu’à la France, à l’Allemagne autant qu’à l’Irlande, aux républiques qui ont des esclaves aussi bien qu’aux empires qui ont des serfs. Les problèmes sociaux dépassent les frontières. Les plaies du genre humain, ces larges plaies qui couvrent le globe, ne s’arrêtent point aux lignes bleues ou rouges tracées sur la mappemonde.
Partout où l’homme ignore et désespère, partout où la femme se vend pour du pain, partout où l’enfant souffre faute d’un livre qui l’enseigne et d’un foyer qui le réchauffe, le livre les Misérables frappe à la porte et dit: Ouvrez-moi, je viens pour vous.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Letter (1862-10-18) to M. Daelli [tr. Wraxall (1862)
(Source)
(Source (French)). Daeli was the publisher of the Italian translation of Les Misérables.
At the hour of civilization through which we are now passing, and which is still so sombre, the miserable’s name is MAN; he is agonizing in all climes, and he is groaning in all languages.
[À l’heure, si sombre encore, de la civilisation où nous sommes, le misérable s’appelle L’HOMME; il agonise sous tous les climats, et il gémit dans toutes les langues.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Letter (1862-10-18) to M. Daelli [tr. Wraxall (1862)
(Source)
(Source (French)). Daeli was the publisher of the Italian translation of Les Misérables.
Whether we be Italians or Frenchmen, misery concerns us all. Ever since history has been written, ever since philosophy has meditated, misery has been the garment of the human race; the moment has at length arrived for tearing off that rag, and for replacing, upon the naked limbs of the Man-People, the sinister fragment of the past with the grand purple robe of the dawn.
[Italiens ou français, la misère nous regarde tous. Depuis que l’histoire écrit et que la philosophie médite, la misère est le vêtement du genre humain; le moment serait enfin venu d’arracher cette guenille, et de remplacer, sur les membres nus de l’Homme-Peuple, la loque sinistre du passé par la grande robe pourpre de l’aurore.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Letter (1862-10-18) to M. Daelli [tr. Wraxall (1862)]
(Source)
(Source (French)). Daeli was the publisher of the Italian translation of Les Misérables.
Be like the bird, who
Halting in his flight
On limb too slight
Feels it give way beneath him,
Yet sings
Knowing he hath wings.[Soyez comme l’oiseau, posé pour un instant
Sur des rameaux trop frêles,
Qui sent ployer la branche et qui chante pourtant,
Sachant qu’il a des ailes!]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Poem (1836), “In the Church of *** [Dans l’eglise de ***],” Songs of Dusk [Les chants du crepuscule], # 33 sec. 6
(Source)
Full French poem. Other translations:Be like the bird that, on a bough too frail
To bear him, gaily sings!
He carols -- thought he slender branches fail:
He knows that he has wings.
[Source]Be like the bird that seeks its short repose
And dauntless sings
Upon that bending twig, because it knows
That it has wings.
[Source]Be like that bird, that halting in her flight
A while on boughs too slight;
Feels them give way beneath her,
And yet sings, yet sings,
Knowing that she hath wings.
[Laura Sedgwick Collins, 1890s song, "Be Like That Bird"]Thou art like the bird
That alights and sings
Though the frail spray bends --
For he knows he has wings.
[tr. Kemble (Butler)]Be as a bird that --
Pausing in its flight --
Alights upon a branch too slight
And feeling that it bends beneath it
Sings -- knowing it has wings.
[Source]
Men are still men. The despot’s wickedness
Comes of ill teaching, and of power’s excess, —
Comes of the purple he from childhood wears,
Slaves would be tyrants if the chance were theirs.[L’homme est homme toujours; les crimes du despote
Sont faits par sa puissance, ombre où son âme flotte,
Par la pourpre qu’il traîne et dont on le revêt,
Et l’esclave serait tyran s’il le pouvait.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Poem (1876), “The Vanished City [La Ville Disparue],” Legend of the Ages: New Series [La Légende des siècles: La Nouvelle Série], No. 4 (1877) [tr. Carrington (1885)]
(Source)
For, to make deserts, God, who rules mankind,
Begins with kings, and ends the work by wind.[Car pour faire un désert, Dieu, maître des vivants,
Commence par les rois et finit par les vents.]Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Poem (1876), “The Vanished City [La Ville Disparue],” Legend of the Ages: New Series [La Légende des siècles: La Nouvelle Série], No. 4 (1877) [tr. Carrington (1885)]
(Source)
Look, examine, reflect. You hold capital punishment up as an example. Why? Because of what it teaches. And just what is it that you wish to teach by means of this example? That thou shalt not kill. And how do you teach that “thou shalt not kill”? By killing.
[Voyez, examinez, réfléchissez. Vous tenez à l’exemple [de la peine de mort]. Pourquoi? Pour ce qu’il enseigne. Que voulez-vous enseigner avec votre exemple? Qu’il ne faut pas tuer. Et comment enseignez-vous qu’il ne faut pas tuer? En tuant.]
Victor Hugo (1802-1885) French writer
Speech (1848-09-15), “Plaidoyer contre la peine de mort [An argument against the death penalty],” Assemblée Constituante, Paris
(Source)
(Source (French)).
I have been unable to find the origin of the English translation that is widely used for this quotation (let alone an English record of the entire speech).