This chapter is actually about the death of bishop Myriel and the fact that it sent Père Madeleine into mourning (another indicator that he is indeed Jean Valjean) though the bulk of the words are spent on a soliloquy from Hugo on the nature of love based on a reflection of Myrielâs sister caring for him in his blindness in the last years of his life.
Though some of the prose in this section is beautiful, I canât help but feel it is deficient in itâs description of love. I will quote a small sample before launching into my thoughts about why it is deficient and an option for an alternative vision:
To have a wife, daughter, or sister continually at call, a devoted being who is there because we have need of her and because she cannot live without us; to be able to measure her affection by the constancy of her presence and reflect, âIf she gives me all her time it is because I have all her heartâ; to see the thought in default of the face, weigh fidelity in the exclusion of the world, hear the rustle of a dress as though it were the rustling of wings, the comings and goings, the everyday speech, the snatch of song; to be conscious every minute of our own attraction, feeling the more powerful for our weakness, becoming in obscurity and through obscurity the star around which an angel gravitates - there are few felicities to equal this.
The most glaring problem is the gendered and patriarchal nature of it. The man is recipient (in this case in his blind helplessness) of all of this service, affection, doting and devotion. He is the âstarâ around which this âangelâ is said to gravitate. Moving beyond the clearly patriarchal overtones, a gender inversion would still demonstrate a deeper weakness to this model. We have one individual orbiting another. The center of gravity is an individual, and the world by extension MUST shrink. Even if we were to assume a mutual orbiting, i would name this the obsession of âloveâs first bloomâ rather than a model for the deepest and best things love has to offer.
In contrast, I have two images that I go back to often when I think about love, particularly the intimate relationship someone shares with their romantic partner.
The first image is one of exploring an ever expanding universe. I have been married for over 20 years now and my partner continues to be someone who I am âgetting to knowâ. I regularly learn new things. They are not static, they are a continual process of becoming, and have an entire universe constantly being renewed and revived that I have the privilege of exploring. The inverse is true as well. I am always changing, and she is constantly learning new things about me. That will never end. There is an infinite depth of person-hood to be explored, and to think that her identity was rooted in me rather than a gift for me to explore would be a move that drastically impoverished our lived experience.
The second image is one of walking forward into an unfolding future hand in hand. Deep and abiding love does not fix itâs gaze on a singular person. It entwines, entangles and combines lives into a shared life, allowing the gaze to move outward into an unfolding future. This future is full of hills, valleys, knowns and unknowns. It is an adventure, and you have the delight of knowing that you are not embarking on it alone.
Sorry Hugo. I donât want an angel to orbit my star. I want to explore each others universes, and to walk forward hand in hand into a shared adventure that contains all fo life.