"The Man in the Iron Mask" by Alexandre Dumas (1850)

"For a blunderer, the souvenir he had evoked was a rather skillfully contrived piece of baseness; for by the remembrance of his own fete he, for the first time, perceived its inferiority to that of Fouquet.  Colbert received back again at Vaux what Fouquet had given him at Fontainbleau, and, as a good financier, returned it with the best possible interest."

Alexandre Dumas was born the same year as Victor Hugo, and died five years earlier.  He is known for his romantic adventure novels, of which "The Man in the Iron Mask" is one.  He wrote all of his famous books in collaboration with Auguste Maquet, a man who may have contributed more to Dumas' fame than even Dumas himself would have liked to admit.

"The Man in the Iron Mask" is also the sequel to "Louise de la Valliere," and features the famous Three Musketeers.  This book finds Porthos, Athos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan much older and wiser, and the four become embroiled in a plot involving a mysterious masked character who inhabits the Bastille.  The ultimate fate of this masked character is never adequately addressed in the novel, and we are left to wonder whether Aramis' plan truly succeeded.

My favorite part of this book was the labyrinthine sort of courtly etiquette which D'Artagnan lives and breathes.  Nothing is ever said directly, and conversations follow a tortured, circuitous route around their intended subjects.  One imagines that anyone attempting to navigate the court of Louis XIV would have found in a slip of the tongue disastrous consequences, and in the counsels of friends and foes alike there would have lurked a multitude of meanings, both intended and unintended.

As an adventure novel, this book works admirably, even if the fate of the man in the mask is bungled.  One surprising thing about this novel is just how dark the ending is, featuring an extended meditation on old age, the passage of time, and the vanity surrounding earthly attainments.  I'm not saying that "The Man in the Iron Mask" is an overly profound sort of book, but it does offer some startling reflections on politics, sexuality, and the way that life ought to be lived.

If it's a bit uneven and long-winded it can be excused these faults.  It's still a good book, and it - unlike some of the characters that populate its pages - has aged extremely well.

"The Hunchback of Notre-Dame" by Victor Hugo (1831)

"Or rather, his whole person was a grimace.  A huge head, bristling with red hair; between his shoulders an enormous hump, a counterpart perceptible in front, a system of thighs and legs so strangely astray that they could touch each other only at the knees, and, viewed from the front, resembled the crescents of two scythes joined by the handles; large feet, monstrous hands; and, with all this deformity, an indescribable and redoubtable air of vigor, agility, and courage, strange exception to the eternal rule which wills that force as well as beauty shall be the result of harmony.  Such was the pope whom the fools had just chosen for themselves."

Victor Hugo also wrote "Les Miserables," the much-adapted story of the French Revolution.  He was very concerned with social justice, and also the preservation of Paris's architectural heritage.  He is one of France's best-known authors, though his reputation in France largely rests upon his poetry.

"The Hunchback of Notre-Dame" is set in Paris in the late Middle Ages.  Most of the action is set in the great cathedral, and the plot unfolds around a love triangle involving Claude Frollo, the archdeacon of the cathedral, the gypsy Esmerelda, and Phoebus, the vain captain of the king's archers.  Along the way the hunchbacked Quasimodo also falls in love with Esmerelda, with the religious life of Paris serving as a backdrop for their thwarted passions and fleeting triumphs.

It's a good book, though I must add that I read the author's "restored version" which includes two added chapters on the architectural history of Paris.  These two added chapters bring the narrative to a screeching halt, and the author's musings on the future of architecture are at best quaint, and at worst tiresome.  Aside from these two chapters, however, the remainder of the book is excellently written, and everything builds to a satisfyingly tragic climax.

I've also read Hugo's "Les Miserables," and I'd have to say that I liked that book much better.  "The Hunchback of Notre-Dame" is a great novel, but it's much longer, much more burdened with detail, and requires a lot more concentration.