With These Candlesticks I Buy Back Your Soul

There is a scene in both the book and every version of the movie, “Les Miserables” (by Victor Hugo and set in early 1800’s France) in which an escaped convict knocks on a priest’s door, and explains that he is hungry and needing a place to lay his head for the night. Father Myriel invites Jean (pronounced John) Val Jean into his humble abode, much to the consternation of the kindly priest’s housekeeper. As the unlikely trio sit down for supper, we notice the convict’s eyes widen as a set of ornate silverware is laid out before him, and a contrastingly small, but evil smile appears on his lips.

The supper over, Bishop Myriel and Jean Val Jean sit before the fire awhile, before eventually retiring for the evening. As the stars navigate their evening circuit across the sky, and the fireflies flit here and there throughout the nearby pastures, the criminal opens his eyes, and looks around his borrowed room. Jean silently dresses, and steals into the kitchen. Emptying his own knapsack of a few worthless odds and ends, he helps himself to the sterling silver plates and utensils.

It is a full moon, and as Jean Val Jean walks across the open threshold of Father Myriel’s room, the old priest opens his eyes and immediately understands the import of the scene that is playing itself out in his presence. But after an almost imperceptible shake of his head, and a knowing smile, the parson closes his eyes, and is soon overtaken by slumber.

The morning dawns bright and fair, and there is a shriek as the housekeeper opens the silver cabinet for the breakfast meal, and becomes all too aware of what has taken place in the night.

“Bishop, dear Bishop, that man you allowed into your home has robbed you of your silver! Quickly Sir. We must contact the magistrate.”

The kindly priest walks into the kitchen, and merely says,

“Well now, good woman. He must have needed the stuff more than we.After all, the silver is not ours, but God’s.  It is best used for the poor. And was our dear brother not poor in both goods, and spirit? It is well. It is well.”

Shortly afterwards there is a loud banging on the door, and the harried housekeeper hastens to open it. Before her stands a middle aged man adorned in the clothing of the city magistrate. He holds a dirty knapsack in his hands. Behind him stands, well, you guessed it, Jean Val Jean; iron shackles adorning his hands and feet. A slightly built police sergeant holds him by the arm.

“Excuse me, Bishop Myriel. A moment of your time, please. This wicked fellow here, well, we caught him with a sack full of silver, and when we asked him where he got it, he claimed, well, he claimed you gave it to him.”

The kindly priest smiled and responded,

“Well, yes, I gave him the silver. Please release him. You were only doing your duty, sir, but he did nothing wrong.”

The magistrate was incredulous. “You mean he was telling us the truth?” And he couldn’t quit shaking his head in disbelief.

There was nothing else to do but release the poor shackled soul. And the magistrate gave his assistant instructions to do so.

As the chains fells off Jean Val Jean’s hands and feet, the kindly bishop whispered to his housekeeper. She hurried off into the house, and quickly returned with something in her hands.

The priest accepted two similar items from her, and thrust them into the hands of the escaped convict.

“And my dear sir, you forgot these silver candlesticks. Didn’t I remind you to pack them before you left this morning?”

The magistrate was aghast, and could only shake his head, and say,

“Well, Bishop Myriel. We will take our leave now. Thank you very much for clearing this up for us, Sir.”

And then they were left alone. Without a word, the kindly bishop motioned Jean Val Jean to step into his humble home.

As they entered the small living area, neither man sat down. The bishop starred unblinking into Jean Val Jean’s eyes for what seemed the longest time, and Jean could not help but returning his gaze.

The priest knew the convict’s story. The big brute had unraveled the tale for him the night before. His sister and her little son, and he were without work, and desperately hungry. And in a moment of desperation Jean Val Jean had gone looking for,… for bread. Oh, he’d found it, he’d found it behind a bakery display window. The hungry man had picked up a rock and smashed what lay between him and his prize. A single loaf of bread, and as a result of that momentary decision, he’d spent 19 years in prison.

The bishop finally spoke,

“Jean Val Jean. You have been tried and convicted for a crime of passion. A passion that is common to all of us. Your stomach ached for food, and your relatives suffered from the same temptation. You have suffered a great wrong perpetrated by a callous judge who stole a third of your life from you, and understandably your soul is dark with vengeance.”

It was at then that the kindly bishop grasped Jean’s two hands with his own. The hapless convict still clung to the silver candlesticks in those over-sized hands.

“Jean Val Jean. You are no longer the man who knocked on my door yesterday. A sinner and a stranger stepped across my threshold yesterday. Before me now stands my brother in Christ. You are changed, you are purified. With these candlesticks I buy back your soul. And as often as you look at them, you must remember this day. You must spend the rest of your life doing good, as Christ our Lord also did good.”

And the kindly priest’s words seemed at the same time a weight and a grace to the rough-hewn Val Jean. And the years of pain and bitterness escaped him in a torrent of tears. Suddenly, the convict dropped to his knees, and a wail escaped his lips that might have easily been heard outside the house.

Bishop Myriel stooped down, and took the repentant man by his burly arms, lifted him to his feet, and lovingly embraced him.

“Jean Val Jean, my brother. Go now. Go in peace.”

And Jean stepped out of that old cottage door; a changed man.

I have always been captivated by this story. I read it in high school English, and this scene from one particular version of the movie impacted me unlike almost nothing ever did. 

By William McDonald, PhD. Excerpt from "Musings" Copyright 2010

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