“I lifted from the top of one barrel a big book whose pages
were dog-eared, evidently from much turning by my grandfather. It was an
old-fashioned book. The text was set in parallel columns, two columns to a
page. There were more than a thousand pages. The type was small. I took the book
to the little diamond-shaped attic window to read the small type in the light.
I opened to the first page and read the brief foreword:
‘So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social damnation, which, in the face of civilization, creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny which 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 hunger, and the stunting of childhood by physical and spiritual night – are not solved; -
‘So long as there shall exist, by reason of law and custom, a social damnation, which, in the face of civilization, creates hells on earth, and complicates a destiny which 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 hunger, and the stunting of childhood by physical and spiritual night – are not solved; -
‘So long
as, in certain areas, social asphyxia shall be possible –
‘So
long as ignorance and misery remain on earth, books like this cannot be
useless.”
“I did not understand half the words. How should I know what
‘human fatality’ meant, or ‘social asphyxias’? But when I read these lines,
there moved through my mind a solemn music that is the overtone of justice and
compassion. A spirit moved upon the page and through my ignorance I sensed that
spirit.
The
book, of course, was Victor Hugo’s Les
Miserables – The Wretched of the
Earth. In its pages can be found the play of forces that carried me into
the Communist Party, and in the same pages can be found the play of forces that
carried me out of the Communist Party. The roots of both influences are in the same
book, which I read devotedly for almost a decade before I ever opened a Bible,
and which was, in many respects, the Bible of my boyhood. I think I can hear a
derisive question: ‘How can anyone take
seriously a man who says flatly that his life has been influenced by Victor
Hugo’s Les Miserables?” I understand.
I can only answer that, behind its colossal failings, its melodrama, its windy
philosophizing, its clots of useless knowledge, its overblown rhetoric and
repellent posturing, which offend me, like everybody else, on almost every
page, Les Miserables is a great act
of the human spirit. And it is a fact that books which fall short of greatness
sometimes have a power to move us greatly, especially in childhood when we are
least critical and most forgiving, for their very failures confess their humanity.
AS a boy, I did not know that Les
Miserables is a Summa of the revolt
of the mind and soul of modern man against the materialism that was closing
over them with the close of the Middle Ages and the rise of industrial civilization
– or, as Karl Marx would later teach me to call it: capitalism.
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