The Abbeville press and banner. [volume] (Abbeville, S.C.) 1869-1924, 1880-06-16
VICTOR HUGO.
On the Immortality OF the Soul.
po,.ix (n,7-e,p oud,cnc. y. J.. Tribune.

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We were dining yesterday ut Victor IuSuS.
-Four OF Us were believers and four atheists
not speaking OF the ladies, WHO were all TOO
clever to be iniiuciS. Victor Hugo, Of course,
was among the believers,
ITO believe In God Is 10 believe nothlng,'
said one OF the atheists. -
TO believe in God is to believe everything"
cried Victor Hugo; "it Is to believe in the In.
finite, and IN ones immortal soul. l Will
prove it to YOU"
His face was bright with a heavenly halo.
You know he was horn with the century. His
face Is crowned with white hair, but IL Is the
volcano under the snow. His eyes shine Ike
burning GOALS; his brow Is arched like an
Olympian's: the nose is refined. with diStcl-
died noStrllS: the mouth is eager and smiling,
still full OF valiant teeth; the chin fnlshcSa
profile designed after the laws OF artistic
erolnmar. 1t is q well made head on a robust
body. by robust l do not mean enormous.
He has not the stature OF 4 giantnor the torso
of Il Hercules. But he is IL man of steel, with
no sign Of old age about him. lie has all the
agility, the suppleness, the ease and grace OF
his past years. He is now enjoying his third
or fourth youth: lido otdoubt he Will see the
century tn ough.
n feel in myself" he continued. 1.-THE future
life. l am like Il forest which has been more
than once cut down. h new shoots are
l know, to the sky. The sunshine is on my
head. The earth gives me It's generous sap.
but heaven lights me with the reflection or
unknown worlds. You say the soul Is Moth
! x III lllC sultan VA poAbiS Eo"NiEs 49,
! then Is my sou! the more luminous than my
oddly powers? Winter is on my head and
eternal spring Is in my heart. There | breathe
ut this hour the fragrance OF the li!acs, the
violets and the roses, as at twenty years. The
nearer | approach the end, the palmer hear
around me the immortal symphonies OF the
worlds which invite me. 1t Is marvellous, yet
simple. 1t is a iniry tale and it is history.
For half Il century l have been writing my
thoughts in prose and verse history, ph1los-
ophy, drama, romance. tradition, satire ode
= - l...,o ,;A all Dat cool I hn IN
not said the thousandth part Of what is in me.
When I 20 down to the grave, / can say, like
so many others, 4 have finished my days
work, but I cannot lay i have finished my
next morning. The tomb Is not q blind alley;
it is Il thoroughfnre. 1t closes on the twilight
TO open with the dawn. / improve every
hour. because l love this world as my father.
laid, and because the truth compels me as II
compelled Voltaire, that human divinity.
My work is only n beginning. My monument
is hardly above its foundations. would be
glad to see 1t mounting and mounting neyer'
The thirst for the Infinite proves infnity'
What do you say Of that, Messieurs Athe'
ists" o,,o,e,, wan,
1T am not u wonderful man. l obey my
soul. My soul has its destiny, and obcys ul'
known laws"
ut obeys the laws of creation, said the t
ist." "If you should suddenly have q head.
ache, night would come over your soul, and
YOU would feel that 1t was the creature of YOU
brain. Here, for instance, Is the coffee. Take
some, as l do, in this pretty japanese cup, ant
your blood will be quickencd, and your VII
~Iivelier. and for an hour you will be d CREATE
poet than ever"
Don't talk such nonsense. my witty friend
/ never drink coffee nor champagne. Wh!
do not those who take these stllnulahts WITH
either my verse or my prose-" $780,,
1T Is because nature has not SO well lash
toned their brains" ~
There have you," said Victor Hugo
at is an occult force" said the atheist.
There are no occult forces; there are oni,
luminous forces. Occult force Is chaos. luml
nous force Is God. Man is an Infinite llttl
copy of God this is glory enough for man
/ / am q man, an invi 'ble atom, a drop IN IN
occen, q grain OF SAND on the shore. Little a
l am, I feel the God in me. because can ais
bring form out Of my chaos. l make D9oK
which are creations. / can say this withou
Boosting, for I have no moro pride than a COZ
al insect in It's reef; no more than the sinai
: est bird which joins In the universal hymn
I am nothing. Here lies Victor Hugo-an o.
ON. q passing echo, a flying cloud. q waV
which laps the shore. I am nothing. out le
me live all my future lives let me eonttnu
my work begun; let me scale in coming age
ali the heights. all the perils, all the love, a
the agonies. Who will say that one day, afte
j thousands of ascents, / shall not, like all me
of good will, AVE conquered q place In tn
! supreme council Of thatadorabletyrant h
name Is God?"