“Callow youth, if we may be forgiven the expression, was spreading its wings.” (584).

This is how Victor Hugo begins his chapter on the Friends of the ABC. In France, there seems to be a tradition of student revolution. An association with students being on the forefront of change. There is almost an expectation in Paris that as minds grow, the passion and desire for change gets to a fever point. To be a student is sometimes to experience both an urgency that comes with knowing that this time in flux will come to an end after a few years and the idea of seemingly endless time to discuss and debate the state of the country and what needs to change. In Les Misérables, Hugo profiles this contradiction beautifully in his fictional depiction of the 1830 revolution, spearheaded by young people like Enjolras, who disagree on pretty much everything besides the overwhelming need for liberty and a better tomorrow. As Hugo puts it: “There was enthusiasm for the absolute, with infinite materializations of it envisaged…And nothing like dreams for generating the future. Today’s utopia is tomorrow’s flesh and blood.” (583) There is a feeling that a utopia is possible, which comes from being fresh to the world and its problems. And a general feeling of empathy in these students, who may not agree on Napoleon but agree on a passion for their country and what it could be for all its residents. While this desire for utopia can oftentimes be viewed as unrealistic and superfluous, like when students broadcast their message in the 1968 revolution and changed the general opinion of the movement in Paris, and is sometimes parodied, like in Wes Anderson’s The French Dispatch, there is something serious about this idea because of the passion behind it. Look past all the “rattling tray triple-tiered with double-espressos extended high” and the “highbrow/semiunreadable paperback” as Wes Anderson puts it, and there is something to be seriously admired in these students’ belief in a better world. There is something to take lessons from. This disagreement, this healthy debate, and the idealism that can be seen as either superfluous or beautiful, traditionally has found a home in cafes within the Latin Quarter, from the Friends of the ABC in a (fictional) Les Misérables to the point zero for the (real) 1968 student rebellion.

But where exactly was the Friends of the ABC located? Victor Hugo provides some clues: “They met in Paris in two places, near Les Halles in a tavern called the Corinthe…and near the Panthéon in a little café on Rue St Michel called Café Musain, which has now been pulled down.” (584)

On a particularly exciting day of bookpacking, we explored the Latin Quarter, from Shakespeare and Co. to the Panthéon. As we made our way through this Arrondissement, the abundance of tourists near Shakespeare and Co. became replaced by students clustered in cafes near the Sorbonne University. It wasn’t that hard to visualize Enjolras and co. discussing the pros and cons of Napoleon after some of us compared copies of Napoleon’s Civil Code in the many law book shops in the area. Being in the location where they would have stood, it’s fun to think about which character in the Friends of the ABC I would be or that student sitting in the café reading French literature. Maybe he’s got the view of democracy at all costs like Enjolras. Maybe he wants gradual change like Combeferre. The wonderful portrait Victor Hugo paints of all these members makes it easy to fit yourself or others into this group. And picture what niche you would fit into. However, he gives room for these characters to change their minds or carry multiple beliefs at the same time. That’s one of the most interesting parts of being a student: carrying a multitude of different beliefs at the same time, still figuring out where you belong. (“It is in the nature of undertows to create turbulence, hence some very peculiar combinations of ideas. People adored both Napoleon and liberty.” (583)) Marius certainly goes through many changes on his way to the ABC club. And the moment at the ABC club, when he praises Napoleon only to be shut down and argued against, only to make him ultimately question his beliefs, is one of the most telling moments of what it’s like to be a student. Your views are in flux because for most people it’s the first time you’ve been away from home for that long. There is a sense of freedom and anarchy; a place where you aren’t shamed for changing your beliefs. Hugo comments on how this process of change in college is natural: “Each individual was taking whatever step forward was his to take. Royalists were becoming liberals; liberals were becoming democrats.” (583) Perhaps Victor Hugo sees himself in this constant thirst for knowledge and willingness to change, considering his own similarities with Marius (his father fought for Napoleon, etc.). Perhaps he sees himself as a student as well, at least in his state of mind.

Standing in front of the Sorbonne University made me see the Friends of the ABC in a new light. It made me think of the passage of time and the tradition of French students being activists and even revolutionaries. As I walked down Rue St. Michel where the Friends of the ABC would have met at the Café Musain, I realized that not much has changed, despite time marching on. In 1968, revolutionary students started out protesting the expulsion of other students but ended up demanding ultimate freedom on these very streets. Ripping up the cobblestones, yelling “Vive la France!”, making a barricade, and thinking about Delacroix’s Liberty Leading the People. That feels awfully familiar. Maybe because it happened in Les Misérables as well. And happened in other revolutions, and again, and will probably happen again. And has happened again.

Taking in this view, it is interesting to think about what I would have done. Parisians certainly differ in the ways they respond to these revolutions. While there is this idea that Paris is used to revolution, so much so that “Innocent bystanders (old and young) stand on balconies and in open windows; wait on tables and eat/drink at the terrasses of the two cafés; pose for a tourist-family picture (T-shirt: “Liberty Junior High Boys Track”) (Anderson).” This is The French Dispatch’s take on the 1968 revolution. In Hugo’s take of the 1830 revolution, the people in Paris surrounding the barricades go on like every day. But there is also sometimes this sense of patriotic duty: that bystanders feel they must join in or help in some way. In a report on the 1968 revolution, an officer describes how older teachers joined in and those living in the buildings surrounding the barricades passed supplies to the protesters. Perhaps both can be true, as is often the case.

There is just something so powerful about this street leading to the Panthéon, where Victor Hugo is buried. As the Panthéon looks down the Rue St. Michel, Victor Hugo, I feel, in some poetic way, looked down over the 1968 revolution, and every revolution to come in the Latin Quarter. The Panthéon itself was built as a symbol for the people of France. It was meant to be nondenominational and is a mausoleum. The walls are lined with mortal heroes throughout history. And although Victor Hugo didn’t want to be buried there, there is something so right about him being here, in a celebration of the power of individual mortal goodness and light, across from where students, again and again, demanded for history to turn towards goodness and light.

Sources:

Anderson, Wes. The French Dispatch . The French Dispatch of the Liberty, Kansas Evening Sun, 2021, https://deadline.com/wp-content/uploads/2022/01/The-French-Dispatch-Read-The-Screenplay.pdf. Accessed 2023.

Grimaud , M. Maurice. “Night of the Barricades .” Night of the Barricades, 1968.