The Four Heads of Patron-Minette. Volume 3, Book 7, Chapter 3.
Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.

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The Four Heads of Patron-Minette. Volume 3, Book 7, Chapter 3.
Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.
The quartette of ruffians, who governed the third lower floor of Paris. Volume 3, Book 7, Chapter 3.
Clips from <Il cuore di Cosette>.
I present, Monsieur le Inspecteur. He’s just so perfect 🙂↕️
There isn’t much to say after an amazing analysis by @patron-minette. The quartet discussed through the prism of circus archetypes is just a chef’s kiss!
I have a couple of observations and questions, though. Returning to Hugo’s surprising talent as a horror writer, there are two moments that I find particularly horrifying. One is Claquesous, a perfect character of a horror fiction: without a face, without a voice (except for that coming from his stomach), without a name. Emerging from the darkness and disappearing into darkness. “Vague, terrible, and a roamer” (which may hint that he is, as we’ll later find out, a police informant). I don’t want to encounter someone like Claquesous in my nightmares! And the second is Montparnaase: “a child” and a murderer, who “had all vices and aspired to all crimes” — it’s a truly horrifying combination. Hugo definitely gave more attention to this enfant terrible than to any other of member of the quartet, but I still believe that this archetype deserved even more blood-chilling stories!
And the whole concept of Babet, “thin and learned,” — doesn’t it contradict Hugo’s claim that “the third lower floor” is inhabited by ignorance? He is indeed learned and smart, and this makes him dangerous. So, it’s not always ignorance that poses a problem.
The topic of tooth pulling made me think of Robert Darnton’s description of Le Grand Thomas, a tooth puller from the Pont-Neuf, who was “the most famous character in eighteenth-century Paris, aside from the public hangman.” In the early nineteenth century, experienced tooth pullers were still in high demand as the only way to alleviate the suffering caused by tooth pain was to have them pulled. I am not sure that Babet was a good tooth puller, but he chose quite a popular and lucrative craft.
I recognize that "dark-haired and beautiful" is a really vague description of Montparnasse, but somehow it's still enough for me to imagine him as "Marius, but evil and with self-confidence." The emphasis on his youth is intriguing. As a former "street boy," the repetition of language related to youth ("a child," "springtime," his age, etc) reminds us that his crimes likely began around the age a child would "age out" of being a gamin (13). With that also being around the age he would have become a teenager, he might have also become more interested in his appearance then (and would have attracted more attention while also not having a place to turn to), leading to his crimes. Montparnasse isn't meant to be sympathetic - he's said to have every "vice" and he literally murders people because he wants to look nice - but it's still concerning that someone so young could have been positioned to commit violence crimes. It's both an indictment of Montparnasse and of the society that created him.
I don't know that I'll have much to say about Claquesous beyond how much I enjoy his description. His disappearances make him almost supernatural, a mysterious force of night rather than another criminal. He's also the least trustworthy of the group from any angle. No one in Patron Minette is trustworthy, of course, but Claquesous specifically is unknown even to those he works with. Between spying and betrayal within the criminal underworld and on behalf of the police (think of Leblanc's porter accusing Marius of being a police spy), someone this mysterious is even scarier than the known murderer Montparnasse, simply because it's impossible to say who he is or what he does with his knowledge.
Babet feels like the kind of criminal who is the biggest threat to someone like Fantine: a vulnerable person in desperate circumstances, hurt more by manipulation than by outright violence. Part of this is just that he extracts teeth, which she notably had to sell. But it's also because he's "learned." Another issue Fantine had was that her illiteracy meant that another had to know her secret, which made it easier to discover. Her situation wouldn't have been uncommon in Paris, suggesting that Babet could exploit others through actual knowledge acquired by reading and by the pretension to expertise that "learning" gave him (see how he calls himself a "chemist"). A small and funny(?) detail is that he lost his wife and children like a "handkerchief," which only seems humorous because it comes so soon after Marius' obsession with M Leblanc's handkerchief.
Gueulemer is the most heavily racialized of the Patron Minette, made more explicit by the suggestion that he was "creole." His description mostly just feels racist in how Hugo describes his physical features and emphasizes his physical strength. There is a brief historical reference, though. Marshal Brune was an officer during the French Revolutionary Wars and under Napoleon. He was murdered, so the suggestion that Gueulemer was connected to him likely means that he was involved in his death. Notably, he was a porter at the time. Doors in this novel are significant in how they show acceptance and care (opening) or societal rejection (closing), so it's interesting that he sidesteps this entirely in favor of violence.
Today is the day! Time to meet this “quartette of ruffians”! I (unsurprisingly) have rambled quite a lot about these characters on my blog before, so I’ll try not to repeat myself here.
[Before we go any further, I think it is important to acknowledge the racialised language that Hugo specifically applies to Gueulemer here with his “creole” status. I have done a longer post addressing this before (link), and for those who attended Barricades Con last weekend, Dr Nemo Martin presented a poignant and important presentation on “The Canonical Racialised Language of Les Misérables”, which I could not recommend highly enough.]
What an odd collection of rather theatrical characters we have here then! Babet more-so than anyone else, seeing as he has actual experience on the stage having “played in vaudeville at Saint-Mihiel”. Interestingly, there is a subtle connection to the real-life Lacenaire— who was mentioned in the last chapter— in this, since Lacenaire wrote a couple of vaudevilles in his time!
In fact, there seems to be a lot of Lacenairian influence upon Babet in this passage. The description of Babet as “a man of purpose, a fine talker, who underlined his smiles and accentuated his gestures”, and the detail that he “read the papers” (again, Lacenaire actually had a few pieces of his writing published in newspapers in the late 1820s and early 1830s) shares striking similarities to details that were well known about the real-life killer.
Lacenaire’s influence is not just limited to Babet, however. Montparnasse’s dandy fashions and idle arrogance have certainly been inspired by the rogue too… but more on that in future chapters…
As theatrical as these criminals are, they also remain absolutely terrifying. Hugo makes a point to emphasise the Patron-Minette’s solid reputation in the opening of this chapter: “Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet, and Montparnasse governed the third lower floor of Paris, from 1830 to 1835”, and we read some rather disturbing facts as we greet these four ruffians.
Of course, there are the horrifying details of their murderous antics: Gueulemer was almost certainly involved in the assassination of Marshal Brune; and Montparnasse, at only eighteen, had “numerous corpses in his past”.
But, aside from such gory horrors, the very personalities of these characters are disturbing. Gueulemer doesn’t have any motivation to kill, being an “assassin through coolness”, and yet he remains a monstrous, brutal force; Claquesous has no face nor no name and is devoid of anything that would identify him as a human; Montparnasse kills for elegance with a narcissistic need to retain “the murmur of admiration from the boulevard wenches surrounding him”—
—And Babet… well, I find him perhaps the most unnerving figure of this quartet. Babet is the only one of these four who we are told once had a family— had a wife and children— who he then lost “as one loses his handkerchief”. The unsettling mystery of this is utterly chilling to me.
An additional brief note on today’s chapter: I know it is a small detail to notice, but I have always been confused by the seemingly randomised order that Hugo lists off these four leaders of the Patron-Minette:
CHAPTER TITLE: Babet, Gueulemer, Claquesous, and Montparnasse
INTRO PARAGRAPH: Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet, and Montparnasse
DESCRIPTIONS: Gueulemer, Babet, Claquesous, and Montparnasse
This obviously has no influence on the plot and likely has no purpose or specific meaning to it, but I suppose I just find it odd that Hugo never seemed to decide upon a natural order for their names, aside from making sure Montparnasse remains last on this list every-time… despite the fact that Montparnasse actually gets the most detailed description in this chapter! Perhaps Montparnasse remains at the end of the list because of his youth—?
I wasn't intending to make another post today but I noticed two sentences were skipped or greatly simplified in the Hapgood translation of today's Les Mis Letters chapter? So here they are with all the translation/context I could find with only a little digging: 1.
“[Babet] declared that he was a chemist. He had been a jack of all trades. He had played in vaudeville at Saint-Mihiel.” “[Babet] se déclarait chimiste. Il avait été pitre chez Bobèche et paillasse chez Bobino. Il avait joué le vaudeville à Saint-Mihiel.”
The bolded sentence in French is much more specific than "He had been a jack of all trades". It reads: "He had been a clown/jester/fool with Bobèche and a farcical character with Bobino." Bobèche was a famous 19th century theater clown (wikipedia). A paillasse is a fool, clown, farcical, or comical character (fr.wiktionary). Bobino was a music/theater hall in the Montparnasse area of Paris (wikipedia).
2.
“Was his name Claquesous? Certainly not.” “S’appelait-il Claquesous ? non. Il disait : Je m’appelle Pas-du-tout.”
The bolded sentence is missing from the English translation. It reads: "He said : My name is Not-at-all."
As always, translation corrections or additions are always valued!
Montparnasse's Introduction
I guess I'm on a translation kick because I spent some time today while I was couch-ridden taking a stab at my own translation of Montparnasse's introductory paragraph. I just loved the writing of it and wanted to see if I could carry over some of the feelings I got from it in French into English. This isn't because I think any current translations are bad or wrong, I simply wanted to try my hand, and offer another version.
I tried to stick to 19th century dictionaries (both French and English) for usage of any words I wasn't sure about, but I did also use some more modern resources to get ideas or corroborate.
Un être lugubre, c’était Montparnasse. Montparnasse était un enfant ; moins de vingt ans, un joli visage, des lèvres qui ressemblaient à des cerises, de charmants cheveux noirs, la clarté du printemps dans les yeux ; il avait tous les vices et aspirait à tous les crimes. La digestion du mal le mettait en appétit du pire. C’était le gamin tourné voyou¹, et le voyou devenu escarpe². TRANSLATION - PART 1: A morose being, that was Montparnasse. Montparnasse was a child; less than twenty years old, with a pretty face, lips like cherries, charming black hair, the brightness of springtime in his eyes– he had all the vices and aspired to all the crimes. Digesting the bad whet his appetite for worse. He was the gamin turned ruffian¹, and the ruffian turned killer².
NOTES - PART 1: 1. “voyou” can be used to mean “gamin”, but tends to carry the more negative connotations of “delinquent, gangster, bandit, thug, etc.” It was commonly used in Paris specifically, in the mid 19th century.
2. “escarpe” – an old term for a thief / bandit who kills in order to steal from victims.
Il était gentil, efféminé, gracieux, robuste, mou, féroce³. Il avait le bord du chapeau relevé à gauche pour faire place à la touffe de cheveux, selon le style de 1829⁴. Il vivait de voler violemment. Sa redingote était de la meilleure coupe, mais râpée. Montparnasse, c’était une gravure de modes ayant de la misère et commettant des meurtres. La cause de tous les attentats de cet adolescent était l’envie d’être bien mis. TRANSLATION- PART 2: He was sweet, effeminate, graceful, hardy, apathetic, ferocious³. He had the side of his hat turned up on the left to make room for a tuft of hair, after the style of 1829⁴. He made a living stealing violently. His redingote was of the finest cut, but frayed. Montparnasse was a fashion plate fallen on hard times and committing murders. The cause behind all this adolescent’s criminal offenses was the desire to look sharp.
NOTES - PART 2: 3. “Il était gentil … féroce.” Choosing exact translations for each of these words was extremely difficult. “Gentil” can mean SO many things from kind, sweet, nice, to proper, agreeable, good, etc all of which have such different connotations. I can’t be sure which one is closest to what Hugo was going for.
For “féroce” I wanted to highlight that in the Littré dictionary entry the first definition says “One who takes pleasure in murder, when speaking of animals” and while we are speaking about a person, I can’t help but think Hugo was alluding to this idea.
4. Any fashion historians know what this is referring to? I found a Parisian fashion plate from 1828 at the Metropolitan Museum of Art that maybe looks like the left side of the hat is curled up but it could also be the angle.
La première grisette⁵ qui lui avait dit : Tu es beau, lui avait jeté la tâche des ténèbres dans le cœur, et avait fait un Caïn de cet Abel. Se trouvant joli, il avait voulu être élégant ; or, la première élégance, c’est l’oisiveté ; l’oisiveté d’un pauvre, c’est le crime. Peu de rôdeurs étaient aussi redoutés que Montparnasse. À dix-huit ans, il avait déjà plusieurs cadavres derrière lui. Plus d’un passant les bras étendus gisait dans l’ombre de ce misérable⁶, la face dans une mare de sang. Frisé, pommadé, pincé à la taille, des hanches de femme, un buste d’officier prussien, le murmure d’admiration des filles du boulevard autour de lui, la cravate savamment nouée, un casse-tête dans sa poche, une fleur à sa boutonnière ; tel était ce mirliflore⁷ du sépulcre. TRANSLATION - PART 3: The first grisette⁵ who had said to him, “You’re handsome,” had thrown the stain of darkness into his heart, and had made a Cain of this Abel. Finding himself pretty, he had wanted to be elegant; now, the start of elegance is idleness, and the idleness of a pauper, is crime. Few prowlers were as feared as Montparnasse. At eighteen, he already had several corpses behind him. More than one passerby, arms outstretched, lay in the shadow of this miserable wretch⁶, their face in a pool of blood. Curly and pomaded hair, a pinched waist, the hips of a woman, the chest of a Prussian officer, the murmur of admiration from girls on the boulevard all around him, tie smartly knotted, a bludgeon in his pocket, a flower in his buttonhole; such was this popinjay⁷ of the sepulchre.
NOTES - PART 3 5. I chose not to translate “gamin”, “redingote”, and “grisette” because they’re words that can be used in English and they all refer to a very specific thing or person from a specific time and place, that English just doesn’t have an exact equivalent for.
6. It certainly is a pity for this book in particular that we can’t translate the noun “misérable” into English as is. I just wanted to highlight that Montparnasse is another character to add to the list of those that fall under the category of the book’s title.
7. I chose “popinjay” (meaning a dandy, fop, etc.) for the word “mirliflore” because the French word used here is very pretty and may come from mille + flores (thousand + flowers) to refer to someone wearing perfume, and I think the juxtaposition between the pretty word Hugo chooses to use for Montparnasse and “the sepulchre” is very intentional. While the English word “popinjay” evokes birds rather than flowers (the word actually coming from “parrot” and in its current form also evoking “jay”), I thought it was a similar enough feel that it worked better than dandy or fop.
Corrections, additions, or comments are always welcome!
Resources: Dictionnaire de la langue française, Émile Littré, 1872-1877 Dictionary of the French and English languages, with more than fifteen thousand new words, meanings, etc. by Ferdinand E. A. (1876) Centre National de Ressources Textuelles et Lexicales fr.wiktionary.org wordreference.com
Patron-minette…the fearsome foursome.
LM 3.7.3
From 1830 to 1835 a gang of four ruffians, Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet and Montparnasse, ruled Paris’s third level down.
Here we meet our new cast. Gonna be fun trying to remember these new names.
don't they know they're making love to one already dead?
Brick... with animation!
30. The Four Heads
A quartette of ruffians, Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet, and Montparnasse governed the third lower floor of Paris, from 1830 to 1835. - Vol 3, book 7, chapter 3
While Marius was in despair again, there were four heads of criminals governed the underworld of Paris. These four men were called Patron-Minette(meaning 'The Dawn gang').
Gueulemer, 'the Hercules' was the power and the big guy of the gang.
Claquesous, 'the night' was originally an agent of a police, usually in a mask(Note: in Il cuore di Cosette, he does not wear a mask.). He was also a ventriloquist.
Babet, 'the thin and learned guy', had opposite characters of Gueulemer. He was a man of purpose, a fine talker, who underlined his smiles and accentuated his gestures.
And Montparnasse, 'the lugubrious being'. He was the youngest dandy of the gang. He was a street boy, but grown up into a pickpocket, and then a garroter.
These four heads worked together, hiding from the sight of police and Vidocq, ruled the underworld of Paris for 5 years.
Again, let's see what Marius was doing.
LM 3.7.3
From 1830 to 1835 a gang of four ruffians, Claquesous, Gueulemer, Babet and Montparnasse, ruled Paris’s third level down.
Here we meet our new cast. Gonna be fun trying to remember these new names.
hey it’s some new guys welcome criminals!!
Cosette!!!!!!!!!!!!! No I will not draw her bonnet properly rn.