This chapter is full of fascinating historical details:
âAt the epoch, nearly contemporary by the way, when the action of this book takes place, there was not, as there is to-day, a policeman at the corner of every streetâ
The book was published in the 1860s and largely took place in the 1820s-1830s, so the police force grew quite dramatically in 30-40 years. This point helps demonstrate that the statistics about children on the street were probably undercounts, but it also illustrates the extent to which the image of authority (in that police officers on every corner are very visible) changed just within Hugoâs lifetime.
The growth and transformation of Paris is similarly visible. Gamins hide in houses âin the process of construction,â and âunenclosed landsâ imply the existence of enclosed ones that bring land under private ownership.
Hugo still insists that Parisian gamins are different and better than gamins elsewhere, although he concedes that it's awful that there are so many children on the streets.
The comparison to the ancien régime is fascinating. While it's possible that 18th-century and 19th-century France were similarly bad for children, I wonder if Hugo's intent was to stress the evils of the old monarchy more than to portray the 19th century as an improvement (given the criticism of monarchical systems throughout the novel and his distaste for the idea of a return to the monarchy under the Restoration). Since he idealizes the gamins so much, there's a good chance it's the latter, but it still was an effective way of illustrating the horrors of the ancien régime. The last example genuinely seems like a horror story:
"Under Louis XV. children disappeared in Paris; the police carried them off, for what mysterious purpose no one knew. People whispered with terror monstrous conjectures as to the kingâs baths of purple. Barbier speaks ingenuously of these things. It sometimes happened that the exempts of the guard, when they ran short of children, took those who had fathers. The fathers, in despair, attacked the exempts. In that case, the parliament intervened and had some one hung. Who? The exempts? No, the fathers."
If anything, though, these examples seem like a continuity. Louis XIV's use of trivial charges (being Protestant was seen as a political threat by the monarchy, but focusing on hats specifically makes it seem trivial) to gain convicts to work in the galleys is similar to Jean Valjean's imprisonment in the same structure for stealing bread. Although they focus on different matters, both instances suggest a continuing injustice around convicts and the criminal justice system that needed to be addressed.