This blog post examines Inspector Javert from Les Misérables not as a simple villain, but as a character ensnared by a “wrong righteousness.” It explores the tragic clash of law, justice, and conviction, tracing why his choices led to catastrophe.
It shows how people, as individuals or as a community, forge the right path of history. Moreover, it starkly reminds us of the many harrowing processes and genuine adventures we must undertake to step onto that right path. Even knowing it is a path without reward, the mysterious existence of those who undertake it; the doubt and courage of those agonizing over whether a truly right path even exists in the world; and the event of love that transcends all the world’s histories—this is why Les Misérables becomes ‘our classic’.
In 1862, Victor Hugo published Les Misérables at the age of sixty. Another masterpiece, Notre-Dame de Paris, was published when he was twenty-nine, creating a gap of about thirty years between the two works. Perhaps because of this, Jean Valjean, who is sentenced to nineteen years in prison for stealing bread, appears in the work already in his early old age. Moreover, in Les Misérables, older characters frequently take on major roles driving the narrative. Bishop Myriel, who appears first in the opening chapter and rebirths the ‘soul’ of Jean Valjean—cast out by society—is also an elderly man.
Even without invoking the word ‘soul’—one of the preferred terms in Les Misérables, clearly embodying 19th-century romantic values—as J. Derrida states, humans are not born just once in their lifetime, but many times. Reflecting on my careful reading of Les Misérables, I’d add this: to be born only once in a lifetime is to surrender to that life. The human spirit that refuses to surrender will be reborn many times. While Jesus or Siddhartha achieving enlightenment under an olive tree or a bodhi tree is a grace, being reborn through another’s hands and heart, like Jean Valjean, may be an even greater grace.
The elderly possess a wisdom of experience that cannot be pursued through learned knowledge. This wisdom of experience likely arises from enduring the process of being reborn many times. For instance, the wisdom of experience Bishop Myriel possessed was not the swift condemnation of any sin, but the wisdom to doubt that swiftness. Our book contains this passage:
‘His conversation was gentle and cheerful. His laughter was like that of a child. And he could speak of the greatest things in the roughest dialect of southern France. Moreover, he treated socialites and commoners alike. He never rushed to condemn without considering the circumstances. He would often say, ‘Let us examine the path that led to the wrongdoing.’”
When Jean Valjean was arrested for stealing a loaf of bread, had we examined “the path that led to the wrongdoing” rather than applying the law mechanically, the price of that crime would not have been a nineteen-year prison sentence. As Jean Valjean himself acknowledged, theft is a crime and must be paid for. Yet, enduring the harsh life of a convict, he asks himself this question alone: “In that event that led to my ruin, was I the only one who committed a wrong?” Bishop Myriel was the figure who sought to answer the question Jean Valjean asked himself. That answer manifested in action. Therefore, he not only forgave Jean Valjean for stealing the bishop’s silverware but also handed him the remaining silver candlesticks, telling him to take them all.
The thirty years of temporal depth between 『Notre-Dame de Paris』 and 『Les Misérables』 allowed Victor Hugo, at twenty-nine, to depict the wisdom of an older generation more richly than he might have otherwise. This is one of the unique pleasures of reading 『Les Misérables』. Yet the elderly in the novel, while concretely demonstrating the greatness of forgiveness, also bring tragedy through “wrongly held truths.”³ It is the tragedy of fixed ideas—believing only one thing is absolutely right and refusing to consider any other possibility. For in truth, though countless answers exist in the world, there is no such thing as a single correct answer. Perhaps old age isn’t about chronological years, but about becoming more aged than old age itself when one dogmatizes such “wrong righteousness.” Inspector Javert, who pursues Jean Valjean until his dying breath in the novel, driven by his belief in serving the law and the state, is such a case. Therefore, Inspector Javert is less an embodiment of evil, as commonly perceived, and more a pitiable figure.
In truth, Inspector Javert possesses a greater degree of honesty than Jean Valjean. His unwavering belief that lawbreakers are “beyond redemption” and that public officials are “never wrong” stems from his own integrity and sincerity. Yet his conviction in “wrong righteousness” was so overwhelming that it crumbled helplessly before the face of forgiveness or the radiant stage of love. Thus, he lived in despair, as if already dead.
The young protagonists in the novel, Marius and Cosette, are characters reborn as eternal youths living somewhere now. Yet ‘eternal youth’ does not carry only positive connotations. As the text states, “days without bread, nights without sleep, evenings without candles, stoves without fire, weekdays without work, futures without hope” wear them down. Yet they inherit another lesson from Jean Valjean: that among the truly wretched are “all the ignorant who have become the world’s victors.” In short, Jean Valjean awakens Marius and Cosette to why the world’s victors, who grasp wealth and power, appear pitiful instead. It strikes me that the ‘miserable people’ referred to in Les Misérables signify not only the propertyless, as commonly defined, but also the love-less—those possessing power and wealth yet lacking anyone to love. That this work, published in 1862, still stirs countless hearts today, as we see everywhere, is surely the true charm of a classic.
We have our own reasons for choosing the most dangerous approach to the original text: deciding to adapt and translate 『Les Misérables』. Readers will know this work has sparked intense public resonance through adaptations like musicals and films. Perhaps because of this, even the massive full-translation editions sold in enormous numbers. Yet, when we surveyed several high school and university students, we unexpectedly found that none had properly read the complete translation of Les Misérables. Were all those five-to-ten-volume complete editions, sold in such vast numbers, secretly shelved away somewhere? We were perplexed. During the survey, we were flustered by a student’s cautious question: “Did you read it?” Oh, we were flustered.
Even the translators and adapters of this book, who had taught literary history for years and positioned Victor Hugo as France’s greatest writer, had never read the original text themselves. Yet both students and translators had encountered the story before—through abridged versions. I remember the abridged version titled ‘Jean Valjean,’ a staple in World Masterpiece Collections, one that didn’t even list the editors’ names, only stating ‘Edited by the Editorial Department.’ We tracked down and examined the abridged versions the students who responded to the 2013 survey had read over the years. After days of agonizing, we resolved to undertake the abridged translation ourselves.
We were torn between the conviction that abridged editions should no longer be published and the desire to offer a better abridged version in an era where complete translations are rarely read properly. In short, we felt that an abridged edition carries an even greater and more difficult responsibility.
Adapted translations generally follow three approaches: summarizing the plot, translating selected excerpts, or combining both methods. We chose the second approach: translating selected excerpts. Initially, we referenced several French-published abridged editions to summarize the plot, but midway through, we had no choice but to discard them entirely. During the adaptation process, we fully realized that condensing Victor Hugo’s prose is not only more difficult than condensing the content itself, but also an absurd endeavor. We also note that the two adapters spent considerable time arguing and reconciling over which sections to excerpt.
The original texts consulted were Victor Hugo, Les Misérables (Volumes I, II, III), Gallimard, Coll. Folio, 1973, along with two abridged editions published by L’écoles des loisirs in 1996 and Bordas in 2003. Some quotations used at the beginning of each chapter are sentences that exist in the original text but are not included in the main body of this book. During the translation process, we gained much help and insight from existing complete translations in Korea and the research achievements of experts. We thank the students who responded to our survey and all those who provided assistance.
