Victor Hugo and the publication of "The Legend of the Ages".

Victor Hugo (1802.1885)

Autographed letter to Noël Parfait, in Brussels.   

Four very dense octavo pages.

Autographed address, stamp and postal cancellations.

Hauteville house. October 9 [1859]

“I confess that I would have preferred to be ‘attacked’ only by my ordinary enemies,”

And since I need to be "valiantly defended," I must keep my friends. »

An important letter from the poet concerning the publication of La Légende des siècles, disrupted by discord between his publisher Jules Hetzel and his loyal Paul Meurice, who wrote: " The day before the sale, regarding twelve copies to be given away this evening or tomorrow morning, my right hand and my left hand decided it was appropriate to fall out."

Victor Hugo is also worried about the disappearance of the thirty-three autograph letters he had written and entrusted to Meurice: "My said autograph pages swirl in the azure of profound oblivion, and instead of thirty-three friends I am not very far from having thirty-three enemies at this moment." and laments the now delicate and absurd promotional situation created by Meurice's sulking and Hetzel's inconsistencies. 

The first series , La Légende des siècles, was published on September 28, 1859 in Brussels.

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"O ungrateful one who calls me ungrateful ! The little bit of letter from you that our friend [Jules Hetzel] from Spa sent me would have saddened me if I did not receive almost at the same time your letter of 6 8 ^bre [October 6], one of the best and most charming that came out of your good and noble heart.

Just know that you defended yourself against accusations of which you were not accused. Far from it; ask our friend for my letters, and see how the vast ingrate speaks of you there. – You were never involved in that grotesque little cloud of Belgian commas. – But let's leave that aside and not dwell any longer on this microscopic detail, the substance of which you can, moreover, see whenever you please by reading my letters to our friend.

Let's talk about the matter itself, in which you are so kindly and helpfully taking an interest. Everything is going well, and that's good. But here is today's incident, or snag: You may know how this adventure began. The day before the sale, regarding twelve copies to be given away this evening or tomorrow morning, my right hand and my left hand decided to have a falling out ; at the moment of launch, the captain and the pilot turned their backs on each other, abandoning everything and leaving the poor ship to fend for itself. Mr. Hetzel dismissed Mr. Paul Meurice, who, an excellent and admirable friend otherwise, momentarily lost touch with reality to the point of believing he had been dismissed by me , and left everything in the hands of (the publisher)!

Now, here's the serious and unfortunate part:  I had sent and entrusted to Paul Meurice thirty-three initial pages, signed by me, intended to be placed at the beginning of thirty-three copies that I asked him to send on my behalf to my friends , some of whom were very important figures in the press and literary worlds. Meurice, irritated, handed the thirty-three pages back to our friend, to "the publisher," saying: "Well, since you're dismissing me, take on the task yourself. Send it yourself—I'm not getting involved anymore."

Alerted to the situation by a letter from Meurice, I trembled. I immediately wrote to our friend to ask him if he had sent the copies , if they had been sent safely, and how he had done so. He replied from Spa ! He sent me a charming letter, but in which, of course, he didn't say a word about what I was asking him. Then, I received a letter from one of the thirty-three friends, a talented and influential journalist, who wrote to me, without any hard feelings , that having not received my book, he had bought it and paid 15 francs. Please forgive me, dear Parfait, if I don't name him. Moreover, in the flood of letters in prose and verse that are currently arriving, not a single letter from any of the other thirty-two. What am I to conclude from this? that the commission was not carried out, that my said handwritten pages swirl in the azure of profound oblivion, and that instead of thirty-three friends I am not far from having thirty-three enemies at this moment. For, alas, that is rather how good human bipeds are made.

I never noticed that charging a journalist 15 francs for a book you want to interest him in was an excellent way to stir his enthusiasm. – I understand now why the advertisements paid for by my publishers (press of the 58th of ^February ) are kind enough to tell the public that this book will be heavily attacked . Ordinarily, one doesn't pay to say such things. But this time I understand. Only I confess that I would have preferred to be "attacked" only by my usual enemies, and since I need to be "valiantly defended," to keep my friends .

already being told that Janin, having received nothing from me , also considers me a complete ingrate , and has gone from goodwill to something else entirely. – all this, you see, dear Parfait, is not without some seriousness. Now, what to do? Write to Spa? I no longer expect a clear reply from our friend. Write to Paris? Meurice strikes me as outraged, he who used to write to me ten times a week. It's been eleven days since he's given me any sign of life. The wound must be deep for him to suffer so much as to sulk against me, the innocent one, and, ultimately, the patient one.

I am turning to you because you remember my intentions. I have Meurice in Paris, and Parfait in Brussels . Since one of my two sources of support is unavailable, I am turning to the other. Send this letter to Spa? Perhaps our friend will reply to you? Perhaps he will tell you what has become of the 33 pages signed by me? Perhaps he will find a way to reconcile me (for the sake of success) with all my friends, some of whom are more or less estranged. I know no man more gracious, more noble, or better than our friend; but I know none more frivolous. Will he call me ungrateful again? I leave the matter in your excellent hands. At the same time as writing to you, I am deciding to write to Vacquerie, who is in Paris.

Everything you tell me about yourself is admirably said and thought out. In Paris, in Brussels, in exile, in France, you will always maintain your dignity. You will always be  yourself . So take counsel from the best possible situation. That's all. – I await the articles you announce. – I approve of the Belgian reprint in 2000. – When it is reprinted in France, notify me . I will send a necessary erratum for this reprint. Please reply: ex imo .

I return to our friend, lest he misunderstand the meaning of this letter. I certainly do not wish to distress him; I only want to occupy , to hold his attention. God forbid that I should cause pain to one of those in this world whom I love best and esteem most, to a valiant and charming man, to a brave heart, a brave mind, and pain in the midst of joy, in the midst of a success that is common to us! Pain to him who is as much my brother as a writer as my friend as a publisher! No! No! No! I end by embracing him with all my heart.