#lm 1.2.10

[les-mis-daily-doodles]

he is a fucked up little guy

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 3, Matchup 7: I.ii.10 vs IV.xii.2

Which chapter title do you prefer?

The Man Awakened

Preliminary Gaieties

Voting ended onJul 21, 2025

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 1, Matchup 24: I.ii.10 vs IV.xv.3

Which chapter title do you prefer?

The Man Awakened

While Cosette and Toussaint Sleep

Voting ended onApr 20, 2025

[secretmellowblog]

One piece of symbolic foreshadowing people miss in Les Mis if they’re reading a translation that gets it wrong, is Valjean’s “miner candlestick!”

> In the daytime it would have been possible to recognize it as nothing more than a miner’s candlestick. Convicts were, at that period, sometimes employed in quarrying stone from the lofty hills which environ Toulon, and it was not rare for them to have miners’ tools at their command. These miners’ candlesticks are of massive iron, terminated at the lower extremity by a point, by means of which they are stuck into the rock.

Jean Valjean has his “Miner’s candlestick,” which he seems to be quietly planning to possibly use as a weapon; and it’s a parallel to the silver candlesticks, which are ultimately used to save him. Symbolism

[lesmisletters-daily]

The Man Aroused

Les Mis Letters reading club explores one chapter of Les Misérables every day. Join us on Discord, Substack - or share your thoughts right here on tumblr - today's tag is #lm 1.2.10

As the Cathedral clock struck two in the morning, Jean Valjean awoke.

What woke him was that his bed was too good. It was nearly twenty years since he had slept in a bed, and, although he had not undressed, the sensation was too novel not to disturb his slumbers.

He had slept more than four hours. His fatigue had passed away. He was accustomed not to devote many hours to repose.

He opened his eyes and stared into the gloom which surrounded him; then he closed them again, with the intention of going to sleep once more.

When many varied sensations have agitated the day, when various matters preoccupy the mind, one falls asleep once, but not a second time. Sleep comes more easily than it returns. This is what happened to Jean Valjean. He could not get to sleep again, and he fell to thinking.

He was at one of those moments when the thoughts which one has in one’s mind are troubled. There was a sort of dark confusion in his brain. His memories of the olden time and of the immediate present floated there pell-mell and mingled confusedly, losing their proper forms, becoming disproportionately large, then suddenly disappearing, as in a muddy and perturbed pool. Many thoughts occurred to him; but there was one which kept constantly presenting itself afresh, and which drove away all others. We will mention this thought at once: he had observed the six sets of silver forks and spoons and the ladle which Madame Magloire had placed on the table.

Those six sets of silver haunted him.—They were there.—A few paces distant.—Just as he was traversing the adjoining room to reach the one in which he then was, the old servant-woman had been in the act of placing them in a little cupboard near the head of the bed.—He had taken careful note of this cupboard.—On the right, as you entered from the dining-room.—They were solid.—And old silver.—From the ladle one could get at least two hundred francs.—Double what he had earned in nineteen years.—It is true that he would have earned more if “the <i>administration</i> had not <i>robbed him</i>.”

His mind wavered for a whole hour in fluctuations with which there was certainly mingled some struggle. Three o’clock struck. He opened his eyes again, drew himself up abruptly into a sitting posture, stretched out his arm and felt of his knapsack, which he had thrown down on a corner of the alcove; then he hung his legs over the edge of the bed, and placed his feet on the floor, and thus found himself, almost without knowing it, seated on his bed.

He remained for a time thoughtfully in this attitude, which would have been suggestive of something sinister for any one who had seen him thus in the dark, the only person awake in that house where all were sleeping. All of a sudden he stooped down, removed his shoes and placed them softly on the mat beside the bed; then he resumed his thoughtful attitude, and became motionless once more.

Throughout this hideous meditation, the thoughts which we have above indicated moved incessantly through his brain; entered, withdrew, re-entered, and in a manner oppressed him; and then he thought, also, without knowing why, and with the mechanical persistence of reverie, of a convict named Brevet, whom he had known in the galleys, and whose trousers had been upheld by a single suspender of knitted cotton. The checkered pattern of that suspender recurred incessantly to his mind.

He remained in this situation, and would have so remained indefinitely, even until daybreak, had not the clock struck one—the half or quarter hour. It seemed to him that that stroke said to him, “Come on!”

He rose to his feet, hesitated still another moment, and listened; all was quiet in the house; then he walked straight ahead, with short steps, to the window, of which he caught a glimpse. The night was not very dark; there was a full moon, across which coursed large clouds driven by the wind. This created, outdoors, alternate shadow and gleams of light, eclipses, then bright openings of the clouds; and indoors a sort of twilight. This twilight, sufficient to enable a person to see his way, intermittent on account of the clouds, resembled the sort of livid light which falls through an air-hole in a cellar, before which the passers-by come and go. On arriving at the window, Jean Valjean examined it. It had no grating; it opened in the garden and was fastened, according to the fashion of the country, only by a small pin. He opened it; but as a rush of cold and piercing air penetrated the room abruptly, he closed it again immediately. He scrutinized the garden with that attentive gaze which studies rather than looks. The garden was enclosed by a tolerably low white wall, easy to climb. Far away, at the extremity, he perceived tops of trees, spaced at regular intervals, which indicated that the wall separated the garden from an avenue or lane planted with trees.

Having taken this survey, he executed a movement like that of a man who has made up his mind, strode to his alcove, grasped his knapsack, opened it, fumbled in it, pulled out of it something which he placed on the bed, put his shoes into one of his pockets, shut the whole thing up again, threw the knapsack on his shoulders, put on his cap, drew the visor down over his eyes, felt for his cudgel, went and placed it in the angle of the window; then returned to the bed, and resolutely seized the object which he had deposited there. It resembled a short bar of iron, pointed like a pike at one end. It would have been difficult to distinguish in that darkness for what employment that bit of iron could have been designed. Perhaps it was a lever; possibly it was a club.

In the daytime it would have been possible to recognize it as nothing more than a miner’s candlestick. Convicts were, at that period, sometimes employed in quarrying stone from the lofty hills which environ Toulon, and it was not rare for them to have miners’ tools at their command. These miners’ candlesticks are of massive iron, terminated at the lower extremity by a point, by means of which they are stuck into the rock.

He took the candlestick in his right hand; holding his breath and trying to deaden the sound of his tread, he directed his steps to the door of the adjoining room, occupied by the Bishop, as we already know.

On arriving at this door, he found it ajar. The Bishop had not closed it.

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

I.ii.10 L'homme Réveillé

Which is the best translation of this chapter title?

The Man Awakes

The Man Awake

The Man Aroused

The Man Wakes Up

The Man Awakened

Voting ended onOct 28, 2024

The Man Awakes: Wilbour

The Man Awake: Wraxall, Walton

The Man Aroused: Hapgood

The Man Wakes Up: Denny, FMA, Rose

The Man Awakened: Donougher

[cliozaur]

I have just a couple of observations about this chapter. Judging from the preparation Jean Valjean made before committing a theft, he seems to be a highly skilled escape artist. It suggests that he has extensive experience in this regard: he studies the scenery—windows, doors, the garden, and the garden wall, takes off his shoes, and puts them into his pocket. So, his action is only partly spontaneous.

I wonder how he could be so adept at evaluating the price for the silver set? Of course, it is unfair that forks and a ladle cost more than nineteen years of his hard labour, but how would he know that?

A convict named Brevet with a single suspender with a checkered pattern... Hugo, why do we need to know this trivial detail? Why was Valjean thinking about him and his suspender? Why now? Will he now live rent-free in my head?

[katenepveu]

The audiobook likely enhanced this, but yesterday and today's Les Mis Letters (1.2.10 and 1.2.11, "The Man Wakes Up" and "What He Does Next") were genuinely tense for me. Again: I know very little about the plot of this book! But I have discerned that Hugo can do detailed psychological realism and blatant deck-stacking, and I don't have a feel yet for the ways he's likely to have those interact.

Also, the drawn-out descriptions were both effective in themselves, and resolved so wonderfully with the crashingly abrupt ending to the second chapter.

Anyway: good stuff.