#lm 2.3.5

[les-mis-daily-doodles]

there is an ominous man u just can’t see him

[maybeitsapineapple]

LM 2.3.5

is she a werewolf? no, but she's still just an animal. what is wrong with these villagers

hugo why are you scared of grass

throughout all the descriptions of how terrifying the forest is you've got to remember that it's mme. thénardier who scares cosette even more

apocalypse is such an oddly specific word to use. it means destruction, yes, but the biblical apocalyse is both the end and the new beginning – something horrible (walking through a forest alone at night) that leads to something wonderful (a new life with valjean)

ghost mention

i know valjean's got to have a dramatic entrance but if cosette didn't have that Children's Magical Power of Recognition that would scare the SHIT out of her valjean wtf is wrong with you

[lmchaptertitlebracket]

Round 4, Matchup 8: I.vii.4 vs II.iii.5

Which chapter title do you prefer?

Forms Assumed by Suffering During Sleep

The Little One All Alone

Voting ended onSep 15, 2025

[cliozaur]

Cosette all alone in the dark forest is a powerful and depressing image, especially given how Hugo describes it so unbearably beautiful: “Forests are apocalypses, and the beating of the wings of a tiny soul produces a sound of agony beneath their monstrous vault.” The fear of darkness in the wilderness is presented as mystical and almost irrational, yet the dangers were quite real. Until the mid-nineteenth century, wolves were a permanent danger in rural France, so I deeply sympathize with Cosette.

A woman, encountering Cosette, mentions a werewolf child, but then she recognizes “the Lark” and doesn’t worry at all that this child is venturing into the forest. We have already learned that peasants do not have pity for children, and for abused Cosette in particular.

Hugo implies that Fantine might watch over Cosette from beyond the grave; however, Cosette doesn’t feel her presence. Instead, she constantly feels the horrifying and paralysing presence of Mme Thénardier, and her fear is even worse than her fear of the darkness.

We can almost sense the physical discomfort of Cosette as she “walked bent forward, with a drooping head, like an old woman,” with cold water splashing on her bare legs and her wet hands growing cold.

Finally, a mysterious man (who is, of course, inevitably Jean Valjean) comes to the rescue. It is curious that the sudden appearance of a big figure from the darkness did not scare Cosette. Nothing can compare with her fear of Mme Thénardier.

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - The Little One All Alone, LM 2.3.5 (Les Miserables 1925)

On arriving near an old chestnut-tree with which she was acquainted, made a last halt, longer than the rest, in order that she might get well rested; then she summoned up all her strength, picked up her bucket again, and courageously resumed her march, but the poor little desperate creature could not refrain from crying, “O my God! my God!”

At that moment she suddenly became conscious that her bucket no longer weighed anything at all: a hand, which seemed to her enormous, had just seized the handle, and lifted it vigorously. She raised her head. A large black form, straight and erect, was walking beside her through the darkness; it was a man who had come up behind her, and whose approach she had not heard. This man, without uttering a word, had seized the handle of the bucket which she was carrying.

There are instincts for all the encounters of life.

The child was not afraid.

[dolphin1812]

Although this chapter ends on a hopeful note, Hugo really makes us suffer to get there. This line in particular really got to me:

“And her mother [saw her], no doubt, alas! For there are things that make the dead open their eyes in their graves.”

Cosette’s trauma is ever-present here, not just in what she’s doing (being sent to carry such a large bucket of water on a cold night is certainly traumatizing in itself), but in how she approaches it. Hugo notes that “it was her custom to imagine the Thénardier always present,” and we see that her fear of her is what drives her to continue. It’s heartbreaking to know that she can’t escape her even outside of the inn, underscoring the extent of her trauma. Additionally, Cosette is able to get the water without seeing where she is or what she’s doing. It’s become instinctual, highlighting how often she’s had to do something similar. 

Cosette’s specific working conditions also remind me of Champmathieu’s daughter (who died young of abuse and overwork). In his testimony, he noted that her work meant she was either constantly working in cold water or in extreme heat, only to return home to her husband’s abuse. The cold water aspect is certainly shared (even if through different forms of labor), and knowing that an adult woman died of those conditions stresses how dangerous this is to Cosette. We also specifically know that, like Champmathieu’s daughter, she doesn’t have a safe and restful home environment to return to; the Thénardiers make “home” worse than the forest in many ways. And just as Champmathieu’s daughter was worn down by all of this until it killed her, so has Cosette - an eight-year-old - become like an “old woman,” her constant labor and stress prematurely aging her (Hugo says this here to describe the way she walks while carrying the bucket, but he said this about her general demeanor in a previous chapter; the repetition suggests it’s relevant). 

The nature descriptions in this chapter are interesting on their own, but this line in particular drew my attention:

“The nettles seemed to twist long arms furnished with claws in search of prey.”

Nettles are associated with convicts in general and Valjean in particular because of his nettle speech as Père Madeleine. Moreover, another time when plants were described as having arms was the aftermath of Valjean robbing Petit Gervais, creating some parallels between that scene and this one.

Spoilers below:

Knowing that Valjean is the one who rescues Cosette from this suffering, we get a mini-redemption of sorts; the arm-like branches of Petit Gervais being wronged are now met with the good he does for Cosette. I don’t like the idea of Valjean needing to “redeem” himself in general (of his two real crimes - stealing from the bishop and stealing from Petit Gervais - one was automatically forgiven, and he does so much to compensate for the other that it feels cruel to demand redemption), but given that he feels so much guilt over this, it’s nice that this link provides a sense of closure. 

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 2.3.5 ‘

Oh no. BABY.

This writing is incredible. The observation of children and of this specific child, the universality of fear of the dark, the way she stops too scared to go on, and goes back (planning back to say there was no water at the spring which is SUCH a little kid lie), and then stops and turns around again because the devil she knows is worse than the devil she doesn’t. And then she just runs all the way through the wood so she doesn’t have to see anything at all.

Hugo’s description of the lights that swirl in your eyes in the dark, and the terror of the dark, are bringing up all our other images of blindness. And, like drowning, this is a resonant image, I believe--Hugo was frightened he would go blind. This isn’t Myriel’s darkness, though, which had compensations--this is the far worse kind.

And “no one loves the light like the blind man,” we learn later about Grantaire, but it’s viscerally true about Cosette here--she hangs on to every bit of candlelight she can see through the shutters of the last houses. I’m going to keep beating my weird Cosette-Grantaire parallels drum from last chapter because it’s still true. I think they match the Fantine-Enjolras parallels really fascinatingly, and wow do I want to trace that thread through the rest of the book.

We learn that forests are apocalypses. We later learn that so are revolutions. Jupiter looking like a wound presages more literal wounds.

And Cosette is a werewolf. I knew about the line where the old woman compares her to one but HOLY SHIT I did not remember

She was shivering. Words cannot describe the strangeness of the shiver that chilled her to the bottom of her heart. Her eyes had become wild. She had a feeling that she might not be able to stop herself from going back there at the same time the following night.

I thought the text didn’t do much with Cosette’s hints at wolfishness--but OH NO, IT DOES. A moment later she starts counting out loud to stave off the encroaching wildness, and by counting to ten a few times she returns to herself and the wood and her cold hands.

I love this chapter. I had no idea how much I loved this chapter.

Cosette wild in the dark is a lot more like Marius wild at the barricade than I ever would have expected.

And I love that comparison between their characters: Marius gives in to the wildness and becomes something ferocious. Cosette finds the way to stave it off. I was never sure what to make about the passage that appears later about Cosette’s secret wildness because I hadn’t noticed that wildness elsewhere much but HOLY SHIT it’s real. It’s so real.

Both times, of course, Valjean braves the apocalypse to bring them each back.

And Cosette dragging the bucket, and her terror and her determination, and her knowing she’s going to be beaten anyway because it took so long.

AND FANTINE IS THERE. Oh no, oh no.

And then, heralded by Fantine, Valjean comes, and Cosette knows instantly that she’s safe.

She’s amazing, I love her so much, I want to spend the rest of the book with her. I had a lot of things to say about symbolism but I forget what they were, I love Cosette so much.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 2.3.5 “The Little Girl All Alone”

“Only, as she fell prey to certain feelings, she rattled the handle of the bucket as much as she could while she walked. That made a noise, which kept her company.” This line really struck me as an interesting summary of so many of the characters in this book. Nearly all of the main or majorly recurring characters in this book are so lonely. So much of this book is different characters metaphorically rattling buckets in different ways.

This random woman that Cosette meets on the road is the opposite of Valjean meeting Madame De R--- way way back in 1.2.1. Mme De R--- was the one who stopped and spoke to Valjean and did the kindness of pointing out Myriel’s door. This random woman doesn’t do anything like that. She just keeps walking. The entire town knows who Cosette is and not a single person stops to help her.

God, I love the way Hugo writes children. He clearly was so lovely and patient and observant towards his kids and grandkids. All the little idiosyncrasies and quirks that we see Cosette and all the little kids at the convent exhibit are so believable and realistic.

We literally just had the ghosts of Waterloo wandering the plain, and here’s Cosette frightened of ghosts.

Thenardier is a wolf, but the Thenardiess tends to be more “foreign” wild animals. So far I’ve noted hyena and tigress. I’m not sure why she’s so different. It’s strange because the animals Hugo picks tend to be far less tameable than wolves and yet he has also described Mme Thenardier as essentially being tamed by her husband, since she’ll do anything he says and won’t argue despite being bigger and stronger than him.

“Darkness is dizzying. We need light; whenever we plunge into the opposite of day we feel our hearts chilled. When the eye sees darkness, the mind sees trouble.” This is such an interesting quote considering how often darkness helps save Valjean. But it’s also a quote that will be supported later on during discussions of Hugo’s social mines. Those who become accustomed to darkness, who utilize darkness, become Trouble which becomes Crime. The fact that Cosette is terrified of this darkness isn’t just an indication of her youth, it’s also an indication of her Goodness. She can navigate in the dark but she is scared of it.

“An outline of the Inconceivable emerges a few steps away with a spectral clarity. You see floating in space or in your brain something strangely vague and unseizable like the dreams of sleeping flowers.” Again, another little section where Hugo’s poetry really comes out. This visual is so pretty and almost whimsical considering he’s trying to talk about how creepy the forest at night is. These ghosts aren’t defined like the ghosts of Waterloo, and they’re not chimerical folklore like Valjean-as-the-Devil. They’re this weird in-between of terrified child and spiritual adult imagery.

Paris is also compared to a forest, and the gamin to a sparrow. But Cosette is not a sparrow, she’s a lark. It’s interesting to note that the next in line for abandonment after Cosette has left the Thenardiers is Gavroche, who has turned into a sparrow-gamin when we see him in Paris.

“Forests are apocalypses: a tiny soul’s beating wings make an agonizing sound beneath their monstrous vault.” I just finished reading Brighton Rock by Graham Greene and there’s a moment where he describes a seagull flying under a wharf as a songbird trapped in a cathedral. I get the same imagery here. This terror of something so much bigger than oneself, the need to escape, the feeling of doom or at least the feeling of being overwhelmed. A small child in the dark in a forest is like this absolute knowledge of how small and vulnerable and scared you are. And Cosette knows this; her eyes start getting wild, like she’s losing the human ability to reason and turning into that bird trapped in a cathedral, a sort of instinctive bestial fear.

(This is also the state Valjean is in when we first meet him.)

“Then, by some sort of instinct, to get out of this singular state, which she did not understand but which terrified her, she began to count aloud, one, two, three, four, up to ten, and when she had finished, she began again. This restored her to a real perception of things about her.” Cosette is able to break out of this animalistic fear-state. It’s also cool to see an example of calming techniques being used and effective 150 years ago.

This is kind of a tangent but whenever I read the sections about young Cosette with the Thenardiers I end up thinking about articles I’ve read about feral children or abusive/neglectful orphanages and how it affects the childrens’ ability to emote or the ways in which they respond to fear, threats, happiness, etc. I wonder if this ability to calm herself and pull herself out of that animalistic state is kind of this “power” Cosette has which protects her from becoming something more bestial. Her reaction to abandonment is different from Gavroche’s. Gavroche moves outward, becomes independent and social and courageous and sarcastic, connecting with everyone and no one. Cosette’s reaction is to move inward, to become speculative and quiet, to be wary of everyone and not really reach out. But this power she has prevents her from retreating too much into herself, into a place she cannot return from.

Poor Fantine sees her daughter’s fear and suffering. This is the last time, I think, that Fantine will be present in this way. Like Valjean’s whisper in her ear and the smile on the corpse’s lips, this brings Fantine to life for just a second. This reminds me of the dreams that Fantine has while Valjean is on the road to Arras. This is Fantine dreaming, this time from eternal sleep, watching as Valjean walks toward her daughter.

Although I just had a thought. When Valjean returns from Arras sans Cosette and visits Fantine, she wakes and says this to him: “Cosette? I knew you were there; I was asleep, but I saw you. I’ve been seeing you for a long time; I’ve followed you with my eyes all night. You were in a halo of glory, and all sorts of celestial forms were hovering around you.” Perhaps this dream wasn’t necessarily Fantine watching Valjean drive to Arras? Perhaps it was Fantine, so close to death, catching a glimpse behind the veil to the future her spirit will watch. Jupiter is the largest celestial body, and it’s large and visible here.

“She always imagined the Thenardiess nearby.” Ugh Cosette you poor thing. So much of her life is directed by fear and yet she has so much strength. Her strength and Valjean’s are paralleled again. She is strong enough to carry this full bucket, but she has to stop and rest, to regain her energy. But she is strong enough, just like her will is strong enough to withstand the emotional and physical abuse and abandonment she has lived with for the past 7 years. And we’ll see that strength change when she leaves but it doesn’t leave her.

“A man who had come up behind her and whom she had not heard. This man, without saying a word, had grasped the handle of the bucket she was carrying.” Valjean that’s so creepy. Valjean is magical here. Cosette is terrified; just moments ago she was hypervigilant about every sound of animals in the woods on the sides of the path. But she doesn’t hear Valjean’s approach at all, doesn’t even notice him until he lifts the bucket from her grasp. From the moment prisoner-Valjean fell from the side of the Orion, Valjean has been incorporeal. He’s no longer 9430, he’s no longer M Madeleine, and he hasn’t been mentioned since the fall. This is Valjean materializing as a new form, this poor-rich man in a yellow coat.