When we first meet Jean Valjean, he is in fact less than a dog. A dog may be a useful animal; Jean Valjean is a dangerous one. Even before he went to the galleys, he was more animal than man, moved only by an instinctive loyalty to those of his own litter, as brutishly ignorant of evil as of good. For Hugo, the fact that Valjean has educated himself in prison is promising; at the moment, however, education has only served to make him vicious.
The penal laws of the nineteenth century seem absurd to us, but they stem from the primitive mores of tribal society when most property is held in common and theft is a crime often punishable by death. Under the influence of utilitarian philosophy, which considered environment rather than original sin to be the most important element in character formation, thinking men in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries began to take a new look at the legal system and to call for milder laws and a prison system that would rehabilitate rather than degrade the offender. Hugo shares these enlightened views, and in fact his desire for reform of the penal system was the original inspiration for Les Misérables.
Impressive is the skill with which Hugo uses an external visual impression to evoke an internal conflict. Hugo was artist as well as writer, and in the scene in the bishop's room he gives us no sound, almost no motion. What we see, what we remember, is a darkness in which a threatening weapon bangs, the gleaming oval of the bishop's face, and between the two, the glimmer on the arms of the crucifix — an unforgettable pattern of black and white that symbolizes the unending conflict between good and evil, within and without, in man and in history.
