If, by any chance, you finished all three of Hugo’s masterpieces—Notre Dame de Paris, Les Misérables, and Quatre-Vingt-Treize—then congratulations! You are officially the victim of Victor Hugo’s guillotine of books.

Let’s talk about Quatre-Vingt-Treize. A full account of the story would NOT be provided here, because even without the summary this passage is already annoyingly long. Also, today’s topic is narrowed down on, what I’ve nicknamed, the “Master and Apprentice” duo.

(Notes that the names and addresses are all acquired from the Internet.)

“Master and Apprentice”, teacher and student. The relationship between the two roles has been examined and explained closely by Cimourdain right at the beginning of his appearance. (Hugo has a knack of hacking long paragraphs of contentions into his writings, typically seen in most of his works.) Cimourdain believed the relationship to be ultimately pure and above ethical bounds, by his own experience or raising a student. The word “raising”, as used, means that he practically did raise the child like his own son. Fast forward to the time when Cimourdain was sent to the lines to a certain young general. And who else could he be than Gauvain, the former student of Cimourdain? Interestingly enough, these two characters give off an aura of contradiction: the then teacher who seems serious and introverted but have a heart towards the goals of revolution, the then little kid who now grown to resemble a passionate young leader on the front.

Cimourdain was one firm supporter of the revolution, his ideas appeal more to Robespierre, perhaps. He did his work like a machine tuned to the program. Gauvain was the young scrappy and hungry general who like the idea of revolution and believe he’s doing it for a better world, as if a hero in the era. One is led by the law: Cimourdain knew, deep down, that eliminating monarchy needs and requires not just a decapitated Louis, but the whole of society’s minds to be changed, throughout. Those who held anti-revolutionary thoughts are likely those who held hostile to the people, and thus would be a future threat to peace. Unless, of course, there’s nowhere for them to held their thoughts……Men at some point would be obliged to realize the sacrifices behind the grand goal, but while this can be a universally known truth, the act of abandoning would only proof its significance when triggered. One follows human nature: Gauvain, he was always so hopeful, as if an angle calling for light and convinced light would dawn. Maybe Gauvain knew deep down what he might have to abandon along the way, maybe not, but either way he chose to follow what his heart said to him. In this way, would he bear less regret?

Nevertheless, Gauvain’s act of freeing his enemy is one that trespassed the law. When Cimourdain sentenced Gauvain to death, he was the inspector, the superior, the respecter of revolution and order, the sacrifice and supporter of the law. But when he pressed his trembling lips to his student’s hand, he was a teacher and a master, he was Cimourdain. He was among all who dreaded and hated his sentence, but he was alone when facing the cold and cruel truth placed before him. He was but a mere man, and death would, ultimately, frighten him. See, this tragedy was all set even at the very beginning, when Gauvain’s faith wavered even just the slightest as he saw his enemy, his last relative, Maquis de Lantenac, discarded the chance to flee and turned to rescue the three children trapped in the flaming tower. The whole concept of good and evil was challenged in Gauvain’s mind, and thus however hard he tried, he cannot make a choice that fits his ruined rules. The shadow of this truth lingered even to the extent that when the final sentence was announced, nothing but blunt pain dwelled in one’s heart—how can you not accept a decision that was destined to be made, and a fate that was destined to be wrecked? And, alas, Cimourdain took his own life with a bullet simultaneously as Gauvain was guillotined. As an inspector he had fulfilled his duty, as an educator he granted himself guilty.

The “Master and Apprentice” duo displays human’s struggle between innate nature and acquired order. Gauvain had to decide between releasing Lantenac or guillotining him. At that time, nature told him to see the light inside his enemy and lend aide to his last relative; law told him to punish this cruel and merciless murderer of justice. Gauvain abandon the law and set Maquis de Lantenac free. Cimourdain had to decide between proving innocence of his student or sentencing him to death. At that time, nature told him to forgive his student for he had done nothing wrong but follow his heart, and by ethical means he was not guilty; law told him to cast the vote for death penalty for the man had disobeyed direct orders. Cimourdain abandoned the nature and sentenced Gauvain to death. Now we face a question: Gauvain obeyed human nature and was killed, Cimourdain obeyed the law and committed suicide, so what should we obey?

The answer is, no one knows. Seems quite an easy one, but that’s the fact. It was an age of terror, a reign of terror, laws were drafted for the thirst of blood, for instinct responding to terror is the quickest way to control a mob of people. Similarly, human nature was drafted for the sole goal of staying alive. Stay alive, keep your breath and not your statue. Pity on the noble, hopeful Gauvain. He willingly took the road of nature because that’s what he believed.

Death under belief may just be calm and ease for him.