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Anger may be both foolish and absurd； one can be irritated wrongfully； one is exasperated only when there is some show of right on one's side at bottom。
Jean Valjean felt himself exasperated。
And besides； human society had done him nothing but harm； he had never seen anything of it save that angry face which it calls Justice； and which it shows to those whom it strikes。
Men had only touched him to bruise him。
Every contact with them had been a blow。 Never； since his infancy； since the days of his mother； of his sister； had he ever encountered a friendly word and a kindly glance。 From suffering to suffering； he had gradually arrived at the conviction that life is a war； and that in this war he was the conquered。 He had no other weapon than his hate。
He resolved to whet it in the galleys and to bear it away with him when he departed。
There was at Toulon a school for the convicts； kept by the Ignorantin friars； where the most necessary branches were taught to those of the unfortunate men who had a mind for them。
He was of the number who had a mind。
He went to school at the age of forty； and learned to read； to write； to cipher。
He felt that to fortify his intelligence was to fortify his hate。
In certain cases； education and enlightenment can serve to eke out evil。
This is a sad thing to say； after having judged society； which had caused his unhappiness； he judged Providence； which had made society； and he condemned it also。
Thus during nineteen years of torture and slavery； this soul mounted and at the same time fell。
Light entered it on one side； and darkness on the other。
Jean Valjean had not； as we have seen； an evil nature。
He was still good when he arrived at the galleys。
He there condemned society； and felt that he was being wicked； he there condemned Providence； and was conscious that he was being impious。
It is difficult not to indulge in meditation at this point。
Does human nature thus change utterly and from top to bottom？ Can the man created good by God be rendered wicked by man？ Can the soul be pletely made over by fate； and bee evil； fate being evil？
Can the heart bee misshapen and contract incurable deformities and infirmities under the oppression of a disproportionate unhappiness； as the vertebral column beneath too low a vault？
Is there not in every human soul； was there not in the soul of Jean Valjean in particular； a first spark； a divine element； incorruptible in this world； immortal in the other； which good can develop； fan； ignite； and make to glow with splendor； and which evil can never wholly extinguish？
Grave and obscure questions； to the last of which every physiologist would probably have responded no； and that without hesitation； had he beheld at Toulon； during the hours of repose； which were for Jean Valjean hours of revery； this gloomy galley…slave； seated with folded arms upon the bar of some capstan； with the end of his chain thrust into his pocket to prevent its dragging； serious； silent； and thoughtful； a pariah of the laws which regarded the man with wrath； condemned by civilization； and regarding heaven with severity。
Certainly；and we make no attempt to dissimulate the fact； the observing physiologist would have beheld an irremediable misery； he would； perchance； have pitied this sick man； of the law's making； but he would not have even essayed any treatment； he would have turned aside his gaze from the caverns of which he would have caught a glimpse within this soul； and； like Dante at the portals of hell； he would have effaced from this existence the word which the finger of God has； nevertheless； inscribed upon the brow of every man；hope。
Was this state of his soul； which we have attempted to analyze； as perfectly clear to Jean Valjean as we have tried to render it for those who read us？
Did Jean Valjean distinctly perceive； after their formation； and had he seen distinctly during the process of their formation； all the elements of which his moral misery was posed？
Had this rough and unlettered man gathered a perfectly clear perception of the succession of ideas through which he had； by degrees； mounted and descended to the lugubrious aspects which had； for so many years； formed the inner horizon of his spirit？ Was he conscious of all that passed within him； and of all that was working there？
That is something which we do not presume to state； it is something which we do not even believe。
There was too much ignorance in Jean Valjean； even after his misfortune； to prevent much vagueness from still lingering there。
At times he did not rightly know himself what he felt。
Jean Valjean was in the shadows； he suffered in the shadows； he hated in the shadows； one might have said that he hated in advance of himself。
He dwelt habitually in this shadow； feeling his way like a blind man and a dreamer。
Only； at intervals； there suddenly came to him； from without and from within； an access of wrath； a surcharge of suffering； a livid and rapid flash which illuminated his whole soul； and caused to appear abruptly all around him； in front； behind； amid the gleams of a frightful light； the hideous precipices and the sombre perspective of his destiny。
The flash passed； the night closed in again； and where was he？ He no longer knew。
The peculiarity of pains of this nature； in which that which is pitilessthat is to say； that which is brutalizingpredominates； is to transform a man； little by little； by a sort of stupid transfiguration； into a wild beast； sometimes into a ferocious beast。
Jean Valjean's successive and obstinate attempts at escape would alone suffice to prove this strange working of the law upon the human soul。
Jean Valjean would have renewed these attempts； utterly useless and foolish as they were； as often as the opportunity had presented itself； without reflecting for an instant on the result； nor on the experiences which he had already gone through。 He escaped impetuously； like the wolf who finds his cage open。 Instinct said to him； 〃Flee！〃
Reason would have said； 〃Remain！〃 But in the presence of so violent a temptation； reason vanished； nothing remained but instinct。
The beast alone acted。
When he was recaptured； the fresh severities inflicted on him only served to render him still more wild。
One detail； which we must not omit； is that he possessed a physical strength which was not approached by a single one of the denizens of the galleys。
At work； at paying out a cable or winding up a capstan； Jean Valjean was worth four men。
He sometimes lifted and sustained enormous weights on his back； and when the occasion demanded it； he replaced that implement which is called a jack…screw； and was formerly called orgueil ＇pride＇； whence； we may remark in passing； is derived the name of the Rue Montorgueil； near the Halles ＇Fishmarket＇ in Paris。
His rades had nicknamed him Jean the Jack…screw。 Once； when they were repairing the balcony of the town…hall at Toulon； one of those admirable caryatids of Puget； which support the balcony； became loosened； and was on the point of falling。
Jean Valjean； who was present； supported the caryatid with his shoulder； and gave the workmen time to arrive。
His suppleness even exceeded his strength。
Certain convicts who were forever dreaming of escape； ended by making a veritable science of force and skill bined。
It is the science of muscles。 An entire system of mysterious statics is daily practised by prisoners； men who are forever envious of the flies and birds。 To climb a vertical surface； and to find points of support where hardly a projection was visible； was play to Jean Valjean。 An angle of the wall being given； with the tension of his back and legs； with his elbows and his heels fitted into the unevenness of the stone； he raised himself as if by magic to the third story。 He sometimes mounted thus even to the roof of the galley prison。
He spoke but little。
He laughed not at all。
An excessive emotion was required to wring from him； once or twice a year； that lugubrious laugh of the convict； which is like the echo of the laugh of a demon。 To all appearance； he seemed to be occupied in the constant contemplation of something terrible。
He was absorbed； in fact。
Athwart the unhealthy perceptions of an inplete nature and a crushed intelligence； he was confusedly conscious that some monstrous thing was resting on him。
In that obscure and wan shadow within which he crawled； each time that he turned his neck and essayed to raise his glance； he perceived with terror； mingled with rage； a sort of frightful accumulation of things；
collecting and mounting above him； beyond the range of his vision； laws； prejudices； men； and deeds；whose outlines escaped him； whose mass terrified him； and which was nothing else than that prodigious pyramid which we call civilization。
He distinguished； here and there in that swarming and formless mass； now near him； now afar off and on inaccessible table…lands； some group； some detail； vividly illuminated； here the galley…sergeant and his cudgel； there the gendarme and his sword； yonder the mitred archbishop； away at the top； like a sort of sun； the Emperor； crowned and dazzling。 It seemed to him that these distant splendors； far from dissipating his night； rendered it more funereal and more black。
All this laws； prejudices； deeds； men； thingswent and came above him； over his head； in accordance with the plicated and mysterious movement which God imparts to civilization； walking over him and crushing him with I know not what peacefulness in its cruelty and inexorability in its indifference。
Souls which have fallen to the bottom of all possible misfortune； unhappy men lost in the lowest of those limbos at which no one any longer looks； the reproved of the law； feel the whole weight of this human society； so formidable for him who is without； so frightful for him who is beneath； resting upon their heads。
In this situation Jean Valjean meditated； and what could be the nature of his meditation？
If the grain of millet beneath the millstone had thoughts； it would； doubtless； think that same thing which Jean Valjean thought。
All these things； realities full of spectres； phantasmagories full of realities； had eventually created for him a sort of interior state which is almost indescribable。
At times； amid his convict toil； he paused。
He fell to thinking。 His reason； at one and the same time riper and more troubled than of yore； rose in revolt。
Everything which had happened to him seemed to him absurd； everything that surrounded him seemed to him impossible。
He said to himself； 〃It is a dream。〃 He gazed at the galley…sergeant standing a few paces from him； the galley…sergeant seemed a phantom to him。
All of a sudden the phantom dealt him a blow with his cudgel。
Visible nature hardly existed for him。
It would almost be true to say that there existed for Jean Valjean neither sun； nor fine summer days； nor radiant sky； nor fresh April dawns。 I know not what vent…hole daylight habitually illumined his soul。
To sum up； in conclusion； that which can be summed up and translated into positive results in all that we have just pointed out； we will confine ourselves to the statement that； in the course of nineteen years； Jean Valjean； the inoffensive tree…pruner of Faverolles； the formidable convict of Toulon； had bee capable； thanks to the manner in which the galleys had moulded him； of two sorts of evil action：
firstly； of evil action which was rapid； unpremeditated； dashing； entirely instinctive； in the nature of reprisals for the evil which he had undergone； secondly； of evil action which was serious； grave； consciously argued out and premeditated； with the false ideas which such a misfortune can furnish。
His deliberate deeds passed through three successive phases； which natures of a certain stamp can alone traverse；reasoning； will； perseverance。 He had for moving causes his habitual wrath； bitterness of soul； a profound sense of indignities suffered； the reaction even against the good； the innocent； and the just； if there are any such。 The point of departure； like the point of arrival； for all his thoughts； was hatred of human law； that hatred which； if it be not arrested in its development by some providential incident； bees； within a given time； the hatred of society； then the hatred of the human race； then the hatred of creation； and which manifests itself by a vague； incessant； and brutal desire to do harm to some living being； no matter whom。
It will be perceived that it was not without reason that Jean Valjean's passport described him as a very dangerous man。
From year to year this soul had dried away slowly； but with fatal sureness。
When the heart is dry； the eye is dry。
On his departure from the galleys it had been nineteen years since he had shed a tear。
BOOK SECONDTHE FALL
CHAPTER VIII
BILLOWS AND SHADOWS
A man overboard！
What matters it？
The vessel does not halt。
The wind blows。 That sombre ship has a path which it is forced to pursue。 It passes on。
The man disappears； then reappears；