Widely considered Victor Hugo’s masterpiece, Les Misérables is both an epic story and a penetrating social criticism of nineteenth-century France. In this tale of crime, punishment, love, and the pursuit of justice, we meet some of the most unforgettable characters in literature, including Jean Valjean, the heroic peasant arrested for stealing a loaf of bread; Cossette, the abused daughter of a prostitute; and Inspector Javert, the policeman who relentlessly hounds Valjean at every turn. With encyclopedic sweep, Hugo’s novel investigates topics ranging from the construction of Parisian sewers to the Battle of Waterloo.
First published in 1862, Les Misérables has inspired numerous film adaptions as well as the long-running stage musical by Claude-Michel Schönberg. It is, in the words of Upton Sinclair, “one of the half-dozen greatest novels in the world.”
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About the Author
Date of Birth:February 26, 1802
Date of Death:May 22, 1885
Place of Birth:Besançon, France
Place of Death:Paris, France
Education:Pension Cordier, Paris, 1815-18
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By Victor Hugo
OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIACopyright © 2017 Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.
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In 1815, M. Charles-François-Bienvenu Myriel was Bishop of D — — He was an old man of about seventy-five years of age; he had occupied the see of D — — since 1806.
Although this detail has no connection whatever with the real substance of what we are about to relate, it will not be superfluous, if merely for the sake of exactness in all points, to mention here the various rumors and remarks which had been in circulation about him from the very moment when he arrived in the diocese. True or false, that which is said of men often occupies as important a place in their lives, and above all in their destinies, as that which they do. M. Myriel was the son of a councillor of the Parliament of Aix; hence he belonged to the nobility of the bar. It was said that his father, destining him to be the heir of his own post, had married him at a very early age, eighteen or twenty, in accordance with a custom which is rather widely prevalent in parliamentary families. In spite of this marriage, however, it was said that Charles Myriel created a great deal of talk. He was well formed, though rather short in stature, elegant, graceful, intelligent; the whole of the first portion of his life had been devoted to the world and to gallantry.
The Revolution came; events succeeded each other with precipitation; the parliamentary families, decimated, pursued, hunted down, were dispersed. M. Charles Myriel emigrated to Italy at the very beginning of the Revolution. There his wife died of a malady of the chest, from which she had long suffered. He had no children. What took place next in the fate of M. Myriel? The ruin of the French society of the olden days, the fall of his own family, the tragic spectacles of '93, which were, perhaps, even more alarming to the emigrants who viewed them from a distance, with the magnifying powers of terror, — did these cause the ideas of renunciation and solitude to germinate in him? Was he, in the midst of these distractions, these affections which absorbed his life, suddenly smitten with one of those mysterious and terrible blows which sometimes overwhelm, by striking to his heart, a man whom public catastrophes would not shake, by striking at his existence and his fortune? No one could have told: all that was known was, that when he returned from Italy he was a priest.
In 1804, M. Myriel was the Curé of B — — [Brignolles]. He was already advanced in years, and lived in a very retired manner.
About the epoch of the coronation, some petty affair connected with his curacy — just what, is not precisely known — took him to Paris. Among other powerful persons to whom he went to solicit aid for his parishioners was M. le Cardinal Fesch. One day, when the Emperor had come to visit his uncle, the worthy Curé, who was waiting in the anteroom, found himself present when His Majesty passed. Napoleon, on finding himself observed with a certain curiosity by this old man, turned round and said abruptly: —
"Who is this good man who is staring at me?"
"Sire," said M. Myriel, "you are looking at a good man, and I at a great man. Each of us can profit by it."
That very evening, the Emperor asked the Cardinal the name of the Curé, and some time afterwards M. Myriel was utterly astonished to learn that he had been appointed Bishop of D — —
What truth was there, after all, in the stories which were invented as to the early portion of M. Myriel's life? No one knew. Very few families had been acquainted with the Myriel family before the Revolution.
M. Myriel had to undergo the fate of every newcomer in a little town, where there are many mouths which talk, and very few heads which think. He was obliged to undergo it although he was a bishop, and because he was a bishop. But after all, the rumors with which his name was connected were rumors only, — noise, sayings, words; less than words — palabres, as the energetic language of the South expresses it.
However that may be, after nine years of episcopal power and of residence in D — —, all the stories and subjects of conversation which engross petty towns and petty people at the outset had fallen into profound oblivion. No one would have dared to mention them; no one would have dared to recall them.
M. Myriel had arrived at D — — accompanied by an elderly spinster, Mademoiselle Baptistine, who was his sister, and ten years his junior.
Their only domestic was a female servant of the same age as Mademoiselle Baptistine, and named Madame Magloire, who, after having been the servant of M. le Curé, now assumed the double title of maid to Mademoiselle and housekeeper to Monseigneur.
Mademoiselle Baptistine was a long, pale, thin, gentle creature; she realized the ideal expressed by the word "respectable"; for it seems that a woman must needs be a mother in order to be venerable. She had never been pretty; her whole life, which had been nothing but a succession of holy deeds, had finally conferred upon her a sort of pallor and transparency; and as she advanced in years she had acquired what may be called the beauty of goodness. What had been leanness in her youth had become transparency in her maturity; and this diaphaneity allowed the angel to be seen. She was a soul rather than a virgin. Her person seemed made of a shadow; there was hardly sufficient body to provide for sex; a little matter enclosing a light; large eyes forever drooping; — a mere pretext for a soul's remaining on the earth.
Madame Magloire was a little, fat, white old woman, corpulent and bustling; always out of breath, — in the first place, because of her activity, and in the next, because of her asthma.
On his arrival, M. Myriel was installed in the episcopal palace with the honors required by the Imperial decrees, which class a bishop immediately after a major-general. The mayor and the president paid the first call on him, and he, in turn, paid the first call on the general and the prefect.
The installation over, the town waited to see its bishop at work.CHAPTER 2
M. MYRIEL BECOMES M. WELCOME
The episcopal palace of D — — adjoins the hospital.
The episcopal palace was a huge and beautiful house, built of stone at the beginning of the last century by M. Henri Puget, Doctor of Theology of the Faculty of Paris, Abbé of Simore, who had been Bishop of D — — in 1712. This palace was a genuine seignorial residence. Everything about it had a grand air, — the apartments of the Bishop, the drawing-rooms, the chambers, the principal courtyard, which was very large, with walks encircling it under arcades in the old Florentine fashion, and gardens planted with magnificent trees. In the dining-room, a long and superb gallery which was situated on the ground floor and opened on the gardens, M. Henri Puget had entertained in state, on July 29, 1714, My Lords Charles Brûlart de Genlis, archbishop; Prince d'Embrun; Antoine de Mesgrigny, the capuchin, Bishop of Grasse; Philippe de Vendôme, Grand Prior of France, Abbé of Saint Honoré de Lérins; François de Berton de Crillon, bishop, Baron de Vence; César de Sabran de Forcalquier, bishop, Seignor of Glandève; and Jean Soanen, Priest of the Oratory, preacher in ordinary to the king, bishop, Seignor of Senez. The portraits of these seven reverend personages decorated this apartment; and this memorable date, the 29th of July, 1714, was there engraved in letters of gold on a table of white marble.
The hospital was a low and narrow building of a single story, with a small garden.
Three days after his arrival, the Bishop visited the hospital. The visit ended, he had the director requested to be so good as to come to his house.
"Monsieur the director of the hospital," said he to him, "how many sick people have you at the present moment?"
"That was the number which I counted," said the Bishop.
"The beds," pursued the director, "are very much crowded against each other."
"That is what I observed."
"The halls are nothing but rooms, and it is with difficulty that the air can be changed in them."
"So it seems to me."
"And then, when there is a ray of sun, the garden is very small for the convalescents."
"That was what I said to myself."
"In case of epidemics, — we have had the typhus fever this year; we had the sweating sickness two years ago, and a hundred patients at times, — we know not what to do."
"That is the thought which occurred to me."
"What would you have, Monseigneur?" said the director. "One must resign one's self."
This conversation took place in the gallery dining-room on the ground floor.
The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he turned abruptly to the director of the hospital.
"Monsieur," said he, "how many beds do you think this hall alone would hold?"
"Monseigneur's dining-room?" exclaimed the stupefied director.
The Bishop cast a glance round the apartment, and seemed to be taking measures and calculations with his eyes.
"It would hold full twenty beds," said he, as though speaking to himself. Then, raising his voice: — "Hold, Monsieur the director of the hospital, I will tell you something. There is evidently a mistake here. There are thirty-six of you, in five or six small rooms. There are three of us here, and we have room for sixty. There is some mistake, I tell you; you have my house, and I have yours. Give me back my house; you are at home here."
On the following day the thirty-six patients were installed in the Bishop's palace, and the Bishop was settled in the hospital.
M. Myriel had no property, his family having been ruined by the Revolution. His sister was in receipt of a yearly income of five hundred francs, which sufficed for her personal wants at the vicarage. M. Myriel received from the State, in his quality of bishop, a salary of fifteen thousand francs. On the very day when he took up his abode in the hospital, M. Myriel settled on the disposition of this sum once for all, in the following manner. We transcribe here a note made by his own hand: —
NOTE ON THE REGULATION OF MY HOUSEHOLD EXPENSES.
For the little seminary 1,500 livres.
Society of the mission 100 "
For the Lazarists of Montdidier 100 "
Seminary for foreign missions in Paris 200 "
Congregation of the Holy Spirit 150 "
Religious establishments of the Holy Land 100 "
Charitable maternity societies 300 "
Extra, for that of Arles 50 "
Work for the amelioration of prisons 400 "
Work for the relief and delivery of prisoners 500 "
To liberate fathers of families incarcerated for debt 1,000 "
Addition to the salary of the poor teachers of the diocese 2,000 "
Public granary of the Hautes-Alpes 100 "
Congregation of the ladies of D — —, of Manosque, and of
Sisteron, for the gratuitous instruction of poor girls 1,500 "
For the poor 6,000 "
My personal expenses 1,000 "
Total 15,000 "
M. Myriel made no change in this arrangement during the entire period that he occupied the see of D — — As has been seen, he called it regulating his household expenses.
This arrangement was accepted with absolute submission by Mademoiselle Baptistine. This holy woman regarded Monseigneur of D — — as at one and the same time her brother and her bishop, her friend according to the flesh and her superior according to the Church. She simply loved and venerated him. When he spoke, she bowed; when he acted, she yielded her adherence. Their only servant, Madame Magloire, grumbled a little. It will be observed that Monsieur the Bishop had reserved for himself only one thousand livres, which, added to the pension of Mademoiselle Baptistine, made fifteen hundred francs a year. On these fifteen hundred francs these two old women and the old man subsisted.
And when a village curate came to D — —, the Bishop still found means to entertain him, thanks to the severe economy of Madame Magloire, and to the intelligent administration of Mademoiselle Baptistine.
One day, after he had been in D — — about three months, the Bishop said: —
"And still I am quite cramped with it all!"
"I should think so!" exclaimed Madame Magloire. "Monseigneur has not even claimed the allowance which the department owes him for the expense of his carriage in town, and for his journeys about the diocese. It was customary for bishops in former days."
"Hold!" cried the Bishop, "you are quite right, Madame Magloire."
And he made his demand.
Some time afterwards the General Council took this demand under consideration, and voted him an annual sum of three thousand francs, under this heading: Allowance to M. the Bishop for expenses of carriage, expenses of posting, and expenses of pastoral visits.
This provoked a great outcry among the local burgesses; and a senator of the Empire, a former member of the Council of the Five Hundred which favored the 18 Brumaire, and who was provided with a magnificent senatorial office in the vicinity of the town of D — —, wrote to M. Bigot de Préameneu, the minister of public worship, a very angry and confidential note on the subject, from which we extract these authentic lines: —
"Expenses of carriage? What can be done with it in a town of less than four thousand inhabitants? Expenses of journeys? What is the use of these trips, in the first place? Next, how can the posting be accomplished in these mountainous parts? There are no roads. No one travels otherwise than on horseback. Even the bridge between Durance and Château-Arnoux can barely support ox-teams. These priests are all thus, greedy and avaricious. This man played the good priest when he first came. Now he does like the rest; he must have a carriage and a posting-chaise, he must have luxuries, like the bishops of the olden days. Oh, all this priesthood! Things will not go well, M. le Comte, until the Emperor has freed us from these black-capped rascals. Down with the Pope! [Matters were getting embroiled with Rome.] For my part, I am for Cæsar alone." Etc., etc.
On the other hand, this affair afforded great delight to Madame Magloire. "Good," said she to Mademoiselle Baptistine; "Monseigneur began with other people, but he has had to wind up with himself, after all. He has regulated all his charities. Now here are three thousand francs for us! At last!"
That same evening the Bishop wrote out and handed to his sister a memorandum conceived in the following terms: —
EXPENSES OF CARRIAGE AND CIRCUIT.
For furnishing meat soup to the patients in the hospital 1,500 livres
For the maternity charitable society of Aix 250 "
For the maternity charitable society of Draguignan 250 "
For foundlings 500 "
For orphans 500 "
Total 3,000 "
Such was M. Myriel's budget.
As for the chance episcopal perquisites, the fees for marriage bans, dispensations, private baptisms, sermons, benedictions, of churches or chapels, marriages, etc., the Bishop levied them on the wealthy with all the more asperity, since he bestowed them on the needy.
After a time, offerings of money flowed in. Those who had and those who lacked knocked at M. Myriel's door, — the latter in search of the alms which the former came to deposit. In less than a year the Bishop had become the treasurer of all benevolence and the cashier of all those in distress. Considerable sums of money passed through his hands, but nothing could induce him to make any change whatever in his mode of life, or add anything superfluous to his bare necessities.
Far from it. As there is always more wretchedness below than there is brotherhood above, all was given away, so to speak, before it was received. It was like water on dry soil; no matter how much money he received, he never had any. Then he stripped himself.
The usage being that bishops shall announce their baptismal names at the head of their charges and their pastoral letters, the poor people of the country-side had selected, with a sort of affectionate instinct, among the names and prenomens of their bishop, that which had a meaning for them; and they never called him anything except Monseigneur Bienvenu [Welcome]. We will follow their example, and will also call him thus when we have occasion to name him. Moreover, this appellation pleased him.
"I like that name," said he. "Bienvenu makes up for the Monseigneur."
We do not claim that the portrait herewith presented is probable; we confine ourselves to stating that it resembles the original.
Excerpted from Les Misérables by Victor Hugo. Copyright © 2017 Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.. Excerpted by permission of OPEN ROAD INTEGRATED MEDIA.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Part 1. A Just Man
Part 2. The Fall
Part 3. In the Year 1817
Part 4. To Confide Is Sometimes to Deliver into a Person's Power
Part 5. The Descent
Part 6. Javert
Part 7. The Champmathieu Affair
Part 8. A Counter-Blow
Part 9. Waterloo
Part 10. The Ship Orion
Part 11. Accomplishment of the Promise Made to the Dead Woman
Part 12. The Gorbeau Hovel
Part 13. For a Black Hunt, A Mute Pack
Part 14. Le Petit-Picpus
Part 15. Parenthesis
Part 16. Cemeteries Take That Which Is Committed Them
Part 17. Paris Studied in its Atom
Part 18. The Great Bourgeois
Part 19. The Grandfather and the Grandson
Part 20. The Friends of the ABC
Part 21. The Excellence of Misfortune
Part 22. The Conjunction of Two Stars
Part 23. Patron Minette
Part 24. The Wicked Poor Man
Part 25. A Few Pages of History
Part 26. Eponine
Part 27. The House in the Rue Plumet
Part 28. Succor From Below May Turn Out to Be Succor From on High
Part 29. The End of Which Does Not Resemble the Beginning
Part 30. Little Gavroche
Part 31. Slang
Part 32. Enchantments and Desolations
Part 33. Whither Are They Going ?
Part 34. The 5th of June, 1832
Part 35. The Atom Fraternizes With the Hurricane
Part 36. Corinthe
Part 37. Marius Enters the Shadow
Part 38. The Grandeur of Despair
Part 39. The Rue de l'Homme Armé
Part 40. The War Between Four Walls
Part 41. The Intestine of the Leviathan
Part 42. Mud But the Soul
Part 43. Javert Derailed
Part 44. Grandson and Grandfather
Most Helpful Customer Reviews
This is not the right text!
Sadly this classic is not brought to live in this version, typos, formatting errors causes the story to be loss. Thankfully there are other versions which may be found for an equal price.
Very bad translation, you cannot understand anything.
This does not include the whole story. It ends abruptly. Pages are missing.
It does no good to list this selection as available for download when in fact it is not.
This text is so messed up. You can not even read the story, the mistakes in the text are so distracting.
The poor are with us always. And this book about the poor remains with the reader in more than one way. First, it is so long that reading it will seem like living a lifetime. Second, it's a profound story that will likely remain in the reader's memory forever. It is a book that explores the human condition from the bottom up. WARNING: LONG REVIEW FOLLOWS: (My more personal motives for listening to the book are covered in the second half of the review.)Early in the book, the story's protagonist named Jean Valjean, experiences an incredible act of kindness at the hands of a saintly rural catholic bishop. Jean Valjean up to that point in his life had every reason to hate life and everything in it. The encounter with the bishop becomes a life-changing event for Jean Valjean. It's an incredible story of redemption and conversion. Moreover, this is a story written by an author who is not overtly religious. In fact, later in the book Hugo provides commentary about catholic monastic life that is not very flattering.There is a reoccurring motif in the book of a martyr sacrificing himself for the greater good. Early in the book the rural bishop gives away his personal wealth to help the poor. Thus the rural bishop is the Christ figure and Jean Valjean is the Apostle Paul figure. The bishop changes lives by living a life of love. In response to his encounter with the bishop, Jean Valjean lives a changed life by helping others. As the story continues, Jean Valjean becomes an alternative version of the Christ figure. The narrative includes a later scene with obvious parallels to the story of Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane where Jean Valjean suffers through a night of anguish deciding whether to save a falsely accused man by revealing his own true identity. Taking this action will cause Jean Valjean to sacrifice his own freedom for that of another person. The motif of martyr for the greater good appears again later when the insurrectionists believe they are dying for the greater good by fighting for liberty, equality, and fraternity. From the perspective of 176 years later, the cause of the insurrectionists appears naively stupid, so I don't credit a Christ figure among the combatants. However, Jean Valjean shows up on the scene and again risks his life to save others. I count four lives that he saved during the insurrection. Two of the lives saved are obvious. I challenge readers to figure out who the third and fourth ones were.During the battle scene, Inspector Javert is the recipient of an act of incredible kindness at the hands of Jean Valjean, whom he considers to be his enemy. When Javert reflects on the experience, he senses the call to become a changed person. This is an echo of Jean Valjean¿s life changing experience early in the book. Javert concludes that he is unable to live with the call.The rescue journey through the sewers in general, and the encounter with quick sand in particular, is reminiscent of Dante's Divine Comedy. It¿s a tale of passage from Inferno (battle scene), through the trials of Purgatorio (sewers), to Paradiso (life and the marriage of his daughter). The scene where Jean Valjean slowly sinks into the quick sand is as ghastly as anything is from Dante's Inferno. Those of you who are familiar with 19th Century literature know that their death scenes are always dramatic. They sure knew how to die in those days. Well, this book doesn't disappoint in that regard. It ends with a death scene that stretches out like the rest of the book.The length of the unabridged version of the book is hard for a typical 21st Century reader to endure. There are many abridged versions available, but the abridged versions leave out Victor Hugo's pontifications about social and political conditions in 19th Century France. In addition, when Hugo develops a character in his story he writes a book length description. The same goes for descriptions of environmental surroundings. For example, Hugo
Okay, I'll just put it out there - I didn't like Les Miserables by Victor Hugo. When I finished it this afternoon, I cheered - I was so very glad it was over. I found the whole thing to be mawkishly sentimental and utterly predictable. The characters contained virtually no shades of gray, and the narrator's continual need to digress - and digress - and digress - drove me bonkers.Here's the thing. The story itself could have probably been told in 300 pages or less. The other 1,162 pages were filled with the narrator's (Hugo's?) opinions about everything from the uselessness of convents, the history of riots in Paris, the greatness of the French people in general, the sanctity and purity of women and children, and even the worth of human excrement flowing through Paris's sewers. It seems as if Hugo decided that Les Miserables was his opportunity to discuss every fleeting idea or thought he'd ever had. In detail. With lots of name dropping. It drove this reader crazy.And the story itself. I expected a little more in a "classic." I don't know about anyone else, but I found myself predicting the outcome of almost every scene. And it was so cloying, so maudlin - a paragon of 19th century melodrama at its worst.So why am I giving Les Miserables 1.5 stars rather than one or even a half a star? 1. There were times when Hugo made me laugh. 2. Gavroche was a great character, finely drawn. 3. Because I read every one of its 1,463 pages.
The author of the introduction I read in my edition of Les Miserables, Peter Washington, didn't seem to much admire the book or the author. He compared it unfavorably to Tolstoy's War and Peace and claimed that "Les Miserables rambles, there are huge digressions and absurdities of plot, the characters are often thin, the action melodramatic." I found that amusing because having recently read War and Peace I thought all that very much applied to Tolstoy's novel, and in more annoying ways that in Les Miserables. Maybe it's that I found Tolstoy's frequent digressions on the hive nature of history rather one-note. If Hugo digresses, at least it's on different subjects. Though yes, the narrative is even more long-winded than you'd expect from 19th Century Western literature. Hugo's one of those authors who won't use one adjective when he can pile up a dozen in one sentence. When Hugo defends using argot, the lingo of thieves, he makes a good point that professions like stockbrokers have an argot of their own, but not satisfied with this example, he goes on and on for an entire page where a brief sentence would have sufficed. Were you one of those people who complained about Ayn Rand's long speechifying in her novels? Well, she was an admirer of Hugo, and I suspect this is where she got the habit from. I would have happily taken a hatchet to the chapters on the rules of the Bernardine-Benedictines and there's really no excuse for spending that much wordage on the sewers of Paris. But with many of the digressions, even when I was impatient to get back to the mainline of the story, I found many of them worth reading. Skip the chapter "The Tail" in Melville's Moby Dick, and I don't think you'd miss much unless you find the anatomy of whales fascinating. Skip the second epilogue of Tolstoy's War and Peace in my opinion you miss only crank theorizing. But within a lot of those digressions in Les Miserables are insights into the spirit of the 19th century. Besides, I also rather prefer Hugo's characters to those of Tolstoy. Jean Valjean has the kind of largeness of character lacking in the cast of Tolstoy's historical novel to carry an epic. When Valjean first appears in the novel on page 66, he's been a galley slave for 19 years--initially sentenced because he stole a loaf of bread. Six years later he's a wealthy entrepreneur that lifted his town to prosperity and became its mayor, and likely would have continued to prosper were it not for Inspector Javert. And if Valjean is a hero worthy of an epic, than Javert makes a worthy villain, almost a force of nature, and interesting because he's above all motivated by devotion to the law. And for a full-on black villains, you can't do much better than Pere and Mere Thénardier. There are also vividly drawn secondary characters such as their children Gavroche and Eponine. (Even if I do agree with Jean Valjean that Marius, his adopted daughter's love interest, is a "booby." A good match for the ninny that is Cosette.) Yes, there are coincidences that stretch credibility and larger-than-life characters and melodramatic rhetorical flourishes. And at times Hugo's chauvinism, his aggrandizement of his nation--much more evident than in Tolstoy or Dickens or Hawthorne--raised an eyebrow. And I certainly don't share Hugo's enthusiasm for revolution, riots ("emeutes") and mobs and I'm to put it mildly, dubious about Hugo's vision of "Progress." I wondered at times, just how much of the melody, the poetry of the writing I missed reading the Wilbour translation. Some claim that if you don't like Hugo, it might be Wilbour's fault. But I certainly found this mammoth epic more interesting than the equally lengthy War and Peace and clumsy translation or not, one with many beautiful and quotable passages.
I have not recive this book
This begins with the fifth "book" in the story. Not a complete edition.