The Toilers of the Sea (Les Travailleurs de la Mer) by Victor Hugo

Toilers of the Sea“The Atlantic wears away our coasts.”

Victor Hugo must have been a pretty amazing person.  Not only did he have an exceptional grasp of history, but his attention to detail far surpasses your average person and his descriptions illustrate this unusual ability.  Add to that his artistic capacity for drawing, and you have quite an impressive composition of talents. He exhibits all three talents in The Toilers of the Sea, or Les Travailleurs de la Mer.

Running afoul of Napoleon III in 1851, Hugo fled France to Brussels and Jersey, finally settling in Guernsey in 1855 where he purchased Hauteville House in St. Peter Port.  He spent 15 years in exile here.  In his studio at the top of his house, with a stunning view of the harbour, it is there he finished his most famous novel, Les Miserables.  While in Guernsey, Hugo rambled all over the island, often with his son, Charles, and his mistress, Julliette Drouet.  In a notebook, he scrawled copious notes about the reefs, tides, currents and absolutely anything that caught his imagination. Les Travailleurs de la Mer was born out of his excursions.

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Nuits de Juin by Victor Hugo

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Nuits de Juin

L’été, lorsque le jour a fui, de fleurs couverte
La plaine verse au loin un parfum enivrant;
Les yeux fermés, l’oreille aux rumeurs entrouverte,
On ne dort qu’à demi d’un sommeil transparent.
Les astres sont plus purs, l’ombre paraît meilleure:
Un vague demi-jour teint le dôme éternel;
Et l’aube douce et pâle, en attendant son heure,
Semble toute la nuit errer au bas du ciel.
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Well-known for his epic novel, Les Miserables, Victor Hugo was also a poet.  He produced volumes of poetry including, Les Orientales, Les Feuilles d’Automne, Les Chants du Créspecule, Les Voix Intérieures, and Les Rayons et Les Ombres.  Of course, this poem of Hugo’s that I’ve chosen is very month appropriate.  I’m getting good at this!

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June Nights

In summer, when day has fled, the plain covered with flowers
Pours out an intoxicating perfume far off;
With closed eyes, with ears partially open to sounds,
One only half-sleeps with a transparent slumber.
The stars are purer, the darkness more inviting;
A vague half-light tints the eternal dome;
And the sweet and pale dawn, awaiting its time,
Seems to be wandering low in the sky all night.


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Photo courtesy of Louis Argerich
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