In Good Company (A Letter)

by Brett Rutherford

Adapted from Victor Hugo, l'Annee Terrible, "June 1871"

Dear lady,
     I say that what I did was good.
And I was punished for it.
That seems to be the order of things.
You, who were so valiant,
     calm and charming,
in the terrible siege and the grim ordeal,
braving this hideous war
     and the hurricane of crime
          that followed it,
beauteous soul
     that heaven made sister
of another lofty soul, my friend,
wife of that proud and gentle thinker
     whose guest I was;
you, who always knew when to give
     support, and how,
you should see what has happened to me!

 

To name a few events:
You saw me return to France,
     almost an apotheosis,
now you see me chased away, reviled.
From that to this, and in less than a year.
Things change so suddenly,
     and for the worse.
Rome, Athens, and Zion endured such times.
Paris has the same right to save itself.
In other places, they have lacked the nerve.
Which ones? No matter. Spare Montague,
and Capulet calls it a crime. Yet Capulet,
given the stronger place, abuses it.

In the same kind of war of factions,
I am now an old buzzard, a criminal.

So be it. Today they insult me, the very
ones who cheered me on a year ago.

Maybe the purpose
     of my late-in-life acclaim,
was to be toppled and taught a lesson.
Not much of a triumph, eh? Does one
in its flimsiness warrant the other’s cruelty?

Madame, I think I have a heart like yours,
the same as those around you, whose minds
sustained by one another, are never dark.
Does the robe of the old outcast fit me best?
Can you bear again to see me this way?
Defending the people, and fighting off
the priests: I would do it again.
Isn’t the abyss a beautiful place to be,
considering the good company?
I am down here with Barbes and Garibaldi,
and I think you like me better since my fall.