Literature of the 19th century contains many a thief, but to paraphrase L. Frank Baum: Is it a good thief or a bad thief? In the event that you are shaking your head and wondering how in the world there could even be such a thing as a good thief, you must remind yourself of Robin Hood at once. He was around long before the 19th century and was reportedly a very good thief.
In the famous Charles Dickens‘ classic, Oliver Twist, the underprivileged urchin, Oliver, ran off to London after a series of unfortunate events befell him, and landed straight in the company of the crafty Artful Dodger. The Dodger was only too happy to offer his dubious assistance, bringing the innocent and naïve lad back to his mentor, Fagin, who ran a gang of youthful pickpockets. Oliver was eventually rescued from a life of crime and corruption. Unlike Oliver, the Dodger was a shrewd and cunning lad and he was such an accomplished thief, he was considered the leader of the boys in Fagin’s gang. Without a savior, Oliver may have ended up in Australia a lot sooner than the Dodger did. It seems highly likely that in any joint venture into thievery, Oliver’s very innocence would have caused him to be the first to be sacrificed to the long arm of the law. We may not be able to think of any modern-day gang of young pick-pockets, but youngsters are still at risk of being recruited to participate in crime, by both members of gangs in their age group and adult criminals.
Silas Marner is a weaver in the George Eliot classic who is falsely accused of stealing money from the deacon, and framed for the base deed by William Dane, a man he previously held in high esteem and considered his best friend. The duplicitous devil, Dane, then married the ill-starred weaver’s fiancée, Sarah. Humiliated and unable to prove his innocence, Silas left the town an embittered man, as would anyone in such a pickle. Silas became both a hermit and a miser, hoarding gold to console himself until another thief, Dunstan Cass makes off with his treasure. Silas will learn there are other things much more important than gold before his story is ended. One might arg! ue that Dunstan Cass was at the very least bedeviled by his vices, while William Dane was one who planned his treacherous course with malice aforethought.
In Victor Hugo’s classic, Les Misérables, Jean Valjean gets a 5-year sentence for stealing a loaf of bread. Valjean only stole the bread out of desperation. His sister’s children were starving, and he didn’t have a sou to even buy flour, let alone bread. He also broke the baker’s window, which is often overlooked, but in today’s world, that just might make his crime a felony all the same . Valjean wasn’t a particularly shrewd or cunning individual, but he was possessed of a brute strength that sometimes stood him in good stead during his life and other times got him in a lot of trouble. He ended up imprisoned for 19 years, the balance of his sentence resulting from attempted prison breaks.
When he got out, he tried to rip off the bishop for his silver service, only to be hauled back by the gendarmes. The bishop protected him and gave him a new direction in life. Jean Valjean didn’t get it straight off and spent a confused day, not sure how to process what had just happened, or if he even wanted to. Then he screwed Little Gervais out of a forty-sou piece that rolled near him when the boy was throwing his coins up in the air and failed to catch one. Suddenly, Valjean was overcome with horror to realize that he was stealing from a child after the bishop got him off the hook and gave him the silver. Surely, even though he couldn’t articulate it, he must have felt that the bishop was aware that he committed the theft of the silver out of necessity, while he was robbing Little Gervais from opportunity . This epiphany didn’t motivate Jean Valjean to trust in the law by any means. He changed his identity in order to redeem himself and do good. Such a maneuver constituted a parole violation that made him a fugitive. Thus Inspector Javert, who had no grasp of the subtleties between a good lawbreaker and a bad lawbreaker, would relentlessly be on Valjean’s trail soon enough. Whether Jean Valjean was a heroic soul or a man in constant struggle is a matter for the reader to decide. Personally, I always had the impression that standing between Jean Valjean and something he wanted would be a very bad idea.
By contrast, the character of M. Thenardier in Les Misérables was a thieving villain who worried not a whit about redemption. From robbing the corpses at Waterloo, to lying and wheedling as much money out of Jean Valjean for Cosette as he could – nothing was too low for Thenardier. He initially owned an inn and had a means with which to make an honest living, but integrity was neither a component of his makeup nor something he aspired to. Thenardier was without doubt a thoroughly unscrupulous chap. He was the type of guy who’d find a way to make a buck even if he was locked up.
Each of these novels is an interesting exploration of motives for stealing that still and probably will always exist in society. Even though laws may change, people will still steal for survival, from opportunity, and from greed and envy as well.
