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dolphin1812 · 10 months

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Happy Father’s Day to Georges Pontmercy!

It’s nice that we’re introduced to him on the holiday, but unfortunately for him, he’s not happy and he’s not allowed to act as a father. His decision to let Gillenormand raise the child, likely knowing he’d never get to see him, just so that Marius could have a comfortable life is really moving. He definitely really loves him, even if his self-sacrificing form of love is deeply sad and possibly not that beneficial in the end. Marius may have wealth, but the child he’s most like right now is Cosette with the Thénardiers, the saddest child in the novel (and that’s a novel with gamins! Who have no homes by definition!). His decision to provide Marius with material comfort even if that meant depriving him of love makes sense, but frankly, this story seems to lean more on the side of “children need love” than “children need wealth.” There’s a level of material comfort that’s good for them (food, clothing, shelter, a toy), but outside of extreme poverty, most of the children in this book are happy in proportion to the affection they receive. Marius is unhappy without this love, and his father is unhappy because he’s forced to be distant from him.

Hugo even explicitly questions his choice, saying, “Perhaps the colonel was wrong to accept these conditions, but he submitted to them, thinking that he was doing right and sacrificing no one but himself.” Georges Pontmercy, then, only thought he was sacrificing “no one but himself,” but it’s implied that he may have sacrificed some of Marius’ happiness as well.

Outside of his relationship with Marius, Georges Pontmercy is set up to be amazing. Not just because of his military exploits, but because he’s now a gardener, which is the highest calling for good middle-aged or elderly men in this novel (Myriel, Fauchelevent, Jean Valjean, and so on! Loving plants is a reliable indicator that they’re trustworthy and care for others). He’s very sad, but he’s also funny, as illustrated by his exchanges over his uniform and his appearance:

“The Attorney for the Crown had him warned that the authorities would prosecute him for “illegal” wearing of this decoration. When this notice was conveyed to him through an officious intermediary, Pontmercy retorted with a bitter smile: “I do not know whether I no longer understand French, or whether you no longer speak it; but the fact is that I do not understand.” Then he went out for eight successive days with his rosette. They dared not interfere with him.”

“One day he encountered the district-attorney in one of the streets of Vernon, stepped up to him, and said: “Mr. Crown Attorney, am I permitted to wear my scar?””

His jabs and his refusal to comply demonstrate his courage, but they add some light-heartedness to his character as well. Additionally, they suggest that he’s principled, not even avoiding his title when threatened. Gillenormand is firm in his royalist positions as well, but Pontmercy’s devotion comes off as more noble because we see it when it’s tested and because it’s at no one’s expense but his own (whereas Gillenormand mocks and abuses everyone around him).

Hugo’s also back to his love of Napoleonic history! I enjoyed the detail about his uncle:

“At Eylau he was in the cemetery where, for the space of two hours, the heroic Captain Louis Hugo, the uncle of the author of this book, sustained alone with his company of eighty-three men every effort of the hostile army. Pontmercy was one of the three who emerged alive from that cemetery.”

Although the direct purpose of this sentence is to praise the military feats of Captain Hugo and Pontmercy, it grants Hugo the writer some legitimacy as well. After all, if Pontmercy served under his uncle, shouldn’t Hugo be familiar with some facets of his character and of his past? The familial claim functions similarly to his use of documents, but here, it allows family to remain at the fore of this narrative. We could find documents about Pontmercy (Hugo tells us where to look; it’s fictional, but it lends a sense of history), but what really matters is that his son has been denied access to his great traits, unlike Hugo with his uncle. Knowing this family history serves as inspiration for writing and is helpful in contextualizing other stories, but Marius has none of this. He’s deprived not only of love but of his own history in a way, only learning Gillenormand’s outdated version. The fact that he’s kept away from documents (his father’s letters) makes this so much worse. He has no chance of hearing about his care for him or about another version of French history. Hugo doesn’t want us to sympathize with Bonapartist ideals overall (”God wanted Napoleon to lose” is a pretty good indication of that), but he also prefers Bonapartists like Pontmercy (who are principled in some way) to royalists like Gillenormand that are very self-centered.

Spoilers below:

To return to fathers and self-sacrifice: Jean Valjean has this same issue at the end of the novel. After her marriage to Marius, Cosette should have any material comforts she desires, but he distances himself from her. He thinks it’s a way of protecting her and guaranteeing that she lives a comfortable, prosperous life, but she’s still hurt and confused by his actions. Even his decision to open up a little bit about his past (even if it’s just about beads) is grounded in material concerns; he wants to make sure Marius uses his money to provide for Cosette by proving he earned it legitimately. Cosette does get that comfortable life he wanted for her, but with how devastated she was as he was dying, it wouldn’t be surprising if she would have preferred to have her father with her than to experience all the luxuries of the Gillenormand household.

#les mis letters #lm 3.3.2 #georges pontmercy #marius pontmercy #gillenormand #jean valjean #old men who garden are the best in this book and that's how we know georges pontmercy is cool #even if he's a bonapartist #and he has the excellent quality of Not Being Gillenormand

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crackspinewornpages · 1 year

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Les Misérables 180/365 -Victor Hugo

171

The conclusion of Marius’s classical studies was when Gillenormand departed Madame de T’s and went to the Mordis. At seventeen Marius was sent to Vernon to see his father, confusing him as he believed his father didn’t love him since he abandoned him. At twilight he was at Pontmercy’s house, but he was too late, and his father had died from his illness. In his delirium he explained that since his son wasn’t coming, he would go to meet him then collapsed dead. “The doctor had been summoned, and the cure. The doctor had arrived too late. The son had also arrived too late.”p.401 (person you love being dying person’s cure is a theme) Marius was a stranger here, he felt ashamed for feeling little for him, remorse and embarrassment for himself, but why should he, he didn’t love his father. He had no assets, just enough to bury him and Marius was given a letter that he should inherit his title as Baron and how a man named Thenardier saved his life at Waterloo who is at Montfermeil. His uniform was sold, and his neighbors pillaged his flowers, after two days Marius returned to law school no longer thinking of his father.

172

Marius retain regular habits, Sunday he went to mass an old man tells him he’s watched with a father to catch a glimpse of his son since he was forced on the threat of disinheritment to give him to his father-in-law because of his political opinions. “I approve of political opinions, but there are people who do not know where to stop.”p.402 The man had recently died, Pontmercy, Marius reveals that was his father and the priest says he can claim he had a father that loved him. Later Marius arranged with his grandfather to leave for what he claimed was a four-day hunting party.

173

Marius went to the Paris law school library to see the files of the Moniteur, memoires newspapers, everything. Researching his father, he hardly saw the Gillenormands and his grandfather thought it was due to a girl. Marius grew astonished and didn’t know where he stood, the Revolution, the Republic, the Empire. He now felt regret and remorse, if only his father was here he would run to him. The great things he was taught to defeat great men, to curse since infancy, he was imbued with the party of 1814 now all the Restorations disfigured it, now the veil was lifted. He felt his father close to him, thought he heard the sounds of war, Napoleon conquering Europe. Like new converts to religion Marius took it too far, fanaticism possessed him and neglected circumstances, he cast off the aristocrat Royalist to a revolutionist, Marius grew cold to his grandfather for his actions. (this is the start of his fuck you grandpa arc) He tried to talk to Thenardier but the inn was closed as his grandfather didn’t falter from his love theory, he thought he saw him wear something under his breast with a black ribbon.

174

The great grandnephew of Gillenormand was a fine officer, Marius had never seen him, Mademoiselle had enough of Marius going out. Her grandnephew, Theodule, was visiting so she sent him out to see what Marius was up to. He followed Marius, saw him buy flowers and go around a church and set them at Colonel Pontmercy’s grave.

175

It was here Marius went when he went out, dumbfounded, Theodule left him not knowing what to write to his aunt. After three days Marius returned and Gillenormand wanted to ask where he’d been, but Marius wasn’t in his room. At breakfast they found the black ribbon, satisfied they found the mystery, but the locket contained Pontmercy’s letter and found Marius’s cards proclaiming himself a Pontmercy, Gillenormand called Nicolette to take it away.

When Marius appeared they confronted him, Marius denounced Gillenormand as his father, as his actual father was a heroic man who served the Republic and died abandoned and forgotten. Gillenormand raged with the fury of the old Royalist declaring Pontmercy a scoundrel, all those men were assassins and thieves, betrayers to the king. Marius calls for the downfall of the bourbons disowning him. Marius only found the black ribbon, believing Gillenormand burned the rest, Marius left with only his watch and thirty francs and a few clothes.

BOOK FOURTH THE FRIENDS OF THE ABC

(it’s a pun on the word abased which means to belittle or degrade since they are treated that way and the French word abaissés is pronounced similar to ABC and ABC because they are students and trying to educate France)

176

A revolution was at an epoch, voices of isolated in 89 and 93, an age of movement, Royalists were becoming liberals and liberals into democrats, they were making history. A utopia into flesh was the goal, a sign of revolution, a premeditation of a coups d’etat. Though France didn’t yet have any of those vast underground organizations. Though it was being outlined by the society of the Friends of the ABC. Its objectivity was to educate children and in reality, elevate man, called themselves the debased, the people. A secret society in embryo, two meeting places, one for workmen the other for students.

At the café the students met they smoke, drank and gambled, (so they’re unorganized meeting wise are split into separate groups and don’t focus on the mission besides the occasional bullshit session this can only end well) they were cordial with the working classes a few names, Enjorlas, Comeferre, Prouvaire, Feuilly, Courfeyrac, Bahorel, Lesgle, Joly and Grantaire. A ray of light before tragic adventure, Enjorlas was wealthy and an only son, handsome, twenty-two, unaware there were women, (which the shippers took and ran with) only passion was to overthrow obstacles, a lover of liberty.

Combeferre was philosophical in the logic of Revolution, “Between the logic of the Revolution and its philosophy there exists this difference-that its logic may end in war, where as its philosophy can only end in peace.”p.415 He rectified Enjorlas, desired to pour out principles and ideas, they were divine and natural rights, they differed but complimented each other. He believed the future lay in the teacher and busied himself with education that society should labor and relax at the elevation of morals and intellect, to increase the minds of youth. He was not incapable of fighting but believed it best to bring about destiny gradually by education and positive laws. 93 terrified him and the stagnation after repulsed him, he inclined to let progress take its course. (just summarized an entire page)

Prouvaire was softer then Combeferre, he was in love, planted flowers, played the flute, a sensitive soul, a good person between thoughts on man and God. Like Enjorlas he was a wealthy only son. Feuilly was a workingman, an orphan, but despite it he wanted to deliver the world, educate himself, that would also deliver him. Everything he knew he taught himself. An orphan, he had a big heart and adopted the country, in this club he was a representation of the outside world. 1772, the three-sided crime, aroused him, he was a tutor of Justice who rendered him great. The submerged parts of a country inevitably come to the surface. “The theft of a nation cannot be allowed by prescription. These lefty deeds of rascality have no future. A nation cannot have its mark extracted like a pocket handkercheif.”p.417

Courfeyrac, a false idea of the bourgeoise under the Restoration in regard to the aristocracy, was to believe in the particle which has no significance. Minerve estimated so highly that he thought to abdicate it, so Courfeyrac’s father dropped the ‘de’ from their name. Courfeyrac was honorable though similar, the difference between him and Tholomeys (this is Felix Cosette’s father) is that Courfeyrac is a paladin to Tholomyes’s attorney. He was the center of the club, the others the light. Bahorel was good-natured in his eleventh year of studies and wasted a large sum doing nothing. He was the connecting link between the Friends of the ABC and other unorganized groups.

Laigle was misspelled Lesgle by the king who gave his family a post office and his friends called him Bossuet. His specialty was to not succeed and laugh at everything. He lost his inheritance, destitute in everything but wit and misfortune followed him, which left him inventive of resources, finding means. (he’s called the gayest of them but unlucky also bald by twenty-five) He studied after Bahorel and without lodging stayed with Joly, who studied medicine and was a hypochondriac.

All of these men, though different, were the same mind of progress, sons of the French Revolution and attached themselves to duty. (if only they were more organized) Though among them there was one sceptic, Grantaire. He didn’t believe anything but was the one that learned the most in Paris, the best places for everything. The rights of men, social contract, Revolution, Republic, democracy, civilization, progress, they came near to signifying nothing to him. Though he found one fanaticism, it was Enjorlas, he admired him, subjugated by his character, though he withered in doubt he loved to watch faith soar in Enjorlas, he needed him. Two men born in the reverse, exist in only that they are paired with another. (I know they’re paired together I’ve seen the AO3 tag) Grantaire was a satellite to Enjorlas, who being his opposite disdained, scorned and pitied him. (and that’s the alphabet cub)

177

Bossuet was at the doorstep of the Café Musain, staring at the Place Saint-Michel, thinking over his misadventure at the law school that affected his plans for the future. He saw a slow cabriolet, inside was Marius and a large bag of his belongings. Bossuet called out to him, he was looking for him, he wasn’t in class when the professor called the other day. Bossuet mocked the teacher with other names until he too was crossed off the attendance list. Marius apologizes but it’s no big deal, he was close to becoming a lawyer, so Bossuet thanks him. When asked, Marius says he lives in the cab and doesn’t know where to go now, Courfeyrac heard this and had the coachman take them to Hotel de la Porte-Saint-Jacques.

178

A few days later Marius was Courfeyrac’s friend who didn’t question him except for his politics, Marius is a democrat-Bonapartist. Courfeyrac then introduced Marius to the Café, to the revolution, the Friends of the ABC. Marius was in a whirl among such minds, the chaos of ideas around him put him at unease, Courfeyrac encouraged him to pay attention.

179

Marius was shocked by the conversations, Grantaire was drunk and went on a spiel, he scoffs at their politics as they turned towards defects, he disdains the human race, he philosophies on old governments, countries and leaders. Bossuet tried to shut him up, but he doubled down declaring man is evil, deformed, God made a mistake, to the devil with him. One table was writing a vaudeville, others were taking advantage of the uproar to have private discussions or play dominoes, talk of love. (so they use these revolutionary meetings just to get drunk talk shit and hang out no actual planning) Joly had a lover he was wild over and getting advice from Bahorel and Prouvaire was in a discussion on mythology, he leaned towards romantism aspects. Courfeyrac couldn’t resist and took the Touquet Charter and burned the masterpiece of Louis XVIII. All of this combined together bombarding over their heads. (all this was over two pages long)

180

Youthful talks have an admirable property that you can never see the spark of what will come out. Bossuet was telling Combeferre about Waterloo, catching Marius’s attention. Enjorlas called it a crime which agitated Marius and he brought up Corsica and all ceased talking. “France needs no Corsica to be great. France is great because she is France.”p.429 Marius asks who he is and where does he stand, where is their enthusiasm, what are they doing with it, who do they admire if not the Emperor, what do they want, Napoleon was a great man. They were silent as he continued that France added his genius to its own and reigned, birthed a grand army what is greater than conquest Combeferre says to be free. Combeferre leaves with everyone but Marius and Enjorlas, Marius can hear Combeferre sing, Enjorlas explains that the mother in his song represents the Republic. (so unlike the musical Marius isn’t a part of the revolution he doesn’t believe in their cause he isn’t even really friends with them)

#les miserables #victor hugo #books #book summaries #epic #historical fiction #tragedy

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fremedon · 3 years

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Brickclub 2.1.12, “The Guard”

“We know the rest,” Hugo begins this chapter--or if we don’t, we’re not going to learn it the way we learned the beginning. Now that the tide has finally turned and the battle is definitively lost, Hugo returns to the mosaic style--lots of images, names, long concatenations of short sentences describing simultaneous action. “Long live the Emperor” has turned to “Every man for himself,” and the text itself has become a rout.

But the Imperial Guard continues to advance, even in the midst of the rout, knowing they are going to their deaths. “[E]very battalion of the Guard was commanded by a general,” but “[t]he soldier in that troop was as much a hero as the general. Not a man among them shirked that suicide.”

I’m just sticking a pin in the word suicide, because--like every other aspect of Hugo’s storytelling in these chapters--it’s going to come up again at the barricade, but there it’s going to be a lot more complicated: Combeferre will tell the insurgents with dependents that their suicides would be murders as well; and though no one at the barricade expects to live, Eponine, Marius, and Mabeuf all come there explicitly to die. Here in the Guard’s doomed advance I think we have the template for heroic suicide--not just on a grander scale than the deaths at the barricade, but on a morally simpler one as well. The Guard are heroic in an epic, Classical mode; their advance “is like seeing twenty Victories enter the field of battle with their wings spread.”

And then there’s Marshal Ney, who seems to be prefiguring Marius:

Sweating, with fire in his eyes, foam on his lips, his uniform unbuttoned, one of his epaulettes cut in half by a sabre stroke from a horseguard, his great-eagle plate dented by a bullet, bleeding, muddied, magnificent, a broken sword in his hand, he said, “Come and see how a marshal of France dies on the battlefield!” But to no avail. He did not die. He was distraught and incensed.

(ISTR reading somewhere that Napoleon III’s chief censor was Ney’s...son-in-law, I think? And that some of Hugo’s details were chosen to flatter him via his illustrious relative.)

“Ill-fated man, you were saved for French bullets”

Ney was the highest-ranking victim of the legal White Terror in 1815--the purge of army officers and civil servants who had returned to Napoleon’s service during the Hundred Days. Many were pardoned, if they made a good show of contrition, and many were permitted to escape by a Restoration wary of creating martyrs--perennial survivor Joseph Fouché, who went seamlessly from being Napoleon’s Minister of Police to being Louis XVIII’s, dragged his feet arresting Ney for months while Ney stubbornly refused to take his head start and flee the country. He was arrested, tried for treason, and executed by firing squad.

#brickclub #lm 2.1.12 #suicide #prebricking

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astarion-dekarios · 4 years

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Combeferre for the character meme!

thank you :3

Still taking asks for this

Combeferre!

First impression: Before I got very far in the brick I think I read some people’s modern AUs and had the impression of him as, like ... The friend who is always cautioning Enjolras when he is too Mean To Grantaire or whatever, and him being obsessed with moths. Lmao.When I actually read the book I was like, wow this guy has a lot going on!! I kind of also internalized him as the Pacifist Friend and I remember being surprised that he mentioned being a doctor on the barricade bc I had seen a bunch of AUs with Joly as a doctor but never Combeferre for some reason? I don’t read modern AUs any more but I have the impression that that has changed maybe.

Impression now: I love him so much. Every time I go back and read his intro I’m like, wow there is more stuff there. Actually recently reading my Saint-Simonians book changed my perception of Combeferre a little bit just because ... that wasn’t a throwaway reference really, the bulk of the core Saint-Simonists at the beginning were .... very Combeferre-like .... so that has a heavier weight on my impression of him at the moment.

Favorite moment: There are a lot .... An underrated moment that touches me a lot is when he’s on the barricade surrounded by a bunch of students and workers and he is just, like... talking to them about Enjolras & the whole Le Cabuc thing?"Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Brutus, Chereas, Stephanus, Cromwell,Charlotte Corday, Sand, have all had their moment of agony when itwas too late. Our hearts quiver so, and human life is such amystery that, even in the case of a civic murder, even in a murderfor liberation, if there be such a thing, the remorse for havingstruck a man surpasses the joy of having served the human race."Like idk what to make of it exactly but it seems very significant to me the way Combeferre (who told Enjolras they would share his fate) feels that he has such a pulse for what Enjolras is thinking and feeling that he is just going to talk about it to other people like this ... and the fact that this moment comes not long before the moment with the artillery sergeant.

Idea for a story: I have written a fair few Combeferre-centric stories in the past and you know even more of them! But I will share with the world the one where they live and he ends up adopting a little gamin with cystic fibrosis and ... lots of drama and heartache from the double perspective of Dad and Doctor, but also, very worth it.

Unpopular opinion: I think I’ve said this before a while ago but he is neither the Mom Friend NOR a raging hypocrite who functions on barely any sleep etc. Like, he does More Than You AND he does it on as decent a sleep schedule as a medical student can have.

Favorite relationship: With Enjolras! There’s so much there... the moment with the uniforms, when they’re sitting at the mouth of the barricade not talking and reach to hold each other’s hands when they hear Gavroche singing ... they are just both clearly very important to each other

Favorite headcanon: I have a few!! Combeferre growing up in the Alps is important to me, and that’s one I know that you share. One that I have that you don’t is that he is black/mixed and at least one of his parents are Haitian ... there is some personal tension there with the Napoleon thing and it makes that scene in particular really Sharp for both him & Marius [who I also hc as mixed]

#les mis #combeferre #marschallin

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kcrabb88 · 5 years

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In a Mirror Dimly

Summary: Enjolras and Valjean bond at the barricade, discussing love and something they share in common. Written for Ace Mis Week 2019.

Note: Aromanticism and asexuality definitely overlap here! That’s my personal experience/orientation, so that comes naturally for me when writing about ace things. Also, the title is a reference to a verse from 1 Corinthians. Thanks to @aflamethatneverdies and @librarianladyx for beta’ing!

Valjean knows he shouldn’t get attached to these boys.

Because these boys will probably be dead soon.

Young men, he corrects himself, because they’re not children. But he has a habit of making any youth a child in his head.

He can’t help but feel fatherly toward them.

Perhaps he can convince them to run? Then again, maybe not. And how could he lead them through the dark of Paris unnoticed, even if he got them out?

Surrender? He flinches, digging his fingernails into his palms. That might mean prison. He swallows, unwilling to imagine these vibrant young men under that weight.

He looks over, seeing the one called Enjolras whisper something in Combeferre’s ear, a soft smile sliding onto the chief’s face.

He remembers seeing the tear running down the lad’s cheek after he shot the artillery sergeant. He remembers watching him step away for a moment and take a deep breath, because there isn’t time for grief.

Not here.

Enjolras brushes a stray strand of astonishing fair hair out of his eyes, not yet noticing Valjean studying him. Paris feels dark in this space before true daylight comes, clouds sweeping across the sky as a slice of blue edges into the black night, just a hint of red lingering on the horizon. There’s no light from the usual window lanterns, the few they have near the barricade emitting a dull yellow haze. The scent of gun smoke lingers in the air, never allowing Valjean to forget where he is.

He’d sensed the revolt in the air for weeks, months, before he heard news of the barricades today, but France has been roiled so many times since his birth that he can never tell when a spark will turn into something or when it won’t. The revolution was in progress when he was shipped to Toulon, and he remembers hearing news of the changes inside France: the revolution ending, Napoleon’s coup, and years later, his disastrous defeat in Russia. Then, Waterloo.

Nothing changed inside the bagne.

Valjean’s surprised when he glances up and sees Enjolras looking at him.

Then walking toward him.

“I was grateful for your help with the mattress to block the grapeshot, citizen,” Enjolras says as he approaches. “And for your bravery in giving your uniform to send another man away. My friends and I are thankful.”

Always citizen, rather than monsieur. Valjean’s intrigued again, even if he doesn’t quite know what to say. He can’t really say why exactly he’s here, though he’d heard Marius say I know him, so what might the other men here suspect? Perhaps nothing. Perhaps that Marius has only seen him in the street.

He realizes how much he’s used to keeping secrets. Always secrets, because he carries Toulon with him everywhere. The secrets grew heavier when he tore up his yellow passport and became someone else, when he took the bishop’s silver and started a new life. But with his secrets he also gained a sort of freedom. The freedom to be someone other than Jean Valjean and the damage that name carries with it. He’s only Jean Valjean at night, when he’s alone with his scars. Wearing another name gives him the chance to help others. It gives him the chance to love his daughter.

Valjean folds his hands together, praying he can get Cosette’s young man out of here even as the National Guard gets closer and daylight breaks into the night, the first hints of dawn reaching the barricade. He recalls Enjolras’ words from the speech he gave not long ago, the words cutting into Valjean’s heart because he doesn’t want these young men to die.

We are entering a tomb all flooded with the dawn.

Enjolras sits down on the paving stones, the first strains of morning light creeping toward his feet through the shadows as if drawn to him. The glow casts his youth into relief and washes the gravity from his face, the knowledge that this lad might perish—and soon—making Valjean’s chest ache. Smudges of gunpowder stain Enjolras’ hands black in places, but he’s bafflingly free of even a small injury.

“Do you have anyone worrying over you at home?” Valjean asks, because he doesn’t know what to say. He so often feels like he doesn’t know what to say, only what to do.

Enjolras pulls his gaze away from the sunrise. “My parents are at home in Marseilles, but hopefully they aren’t worrying yet because news won’t have reached them.”

“No wife or children like those men you sent home?”

Valjean wonders if there’s any way he might convince Enjolras to go home. He looks barely more than seventeen or so, even if he must be a good bit into his twenties. Valjean isn’t opposed to the politics, because he knows just how desperate so many people are, right now. How desperate they’ve been for years. He understands the inequalities and the cholera and the poverty. Those were the things he was trying to fix, in Montreuil, before it all went wrong. Those are the things he wants to help alleviate now, where he can, person by person.

But he doesn’t want these young men dying over this. He wants them to find another way, because there’s enough death in these streets already.

Enjolras smiles, possibly catching onto to Valjean’s motives. “No. I have never been very interested in romance or the…” red creeps into his cheeks, and Valjean suspects he doesn’t blush often. “…the other activities my friends occupy themselves with. So no mistress waiting, either.”

Valjean shifts the gun resting between his knees. “Too busy wanting to change the world?”

Enjolras runs a hand through his over-long fair hair, and the small movement makes Fantine appear in Valjean’s mind with a flash of vibrant, tangible memory, her golden hair cut short and ruined by the cruel edge of a knife. All these years later and he still aches over the fact that he couldn’t save her.

He probably can’t save all these boys either, only the one he’s come for, the one his daughter loves, and it hurts.

Truth be told he doesn’t even know if he can save Marius.

Even in the last excruciating moments, there had been hope in Fantine’s eyes, hope that she might see her daughter again. Even as she died, Valjean saw the life in her bursting at the seams with nowhere to go. He never had the chance to know Fantine, just as he won’t ever know Enjolras, but despite their differences in circumstance and age and gender, he recognizes the same radical, indestructible hope in both of them. In Fantine’s last days he sensed that she was never just surviving, but always looking for the tiniest fragment of joy in the dark, even if she was only holding on by her fingernails. He senses that same spirit in Enjolras, watching it shimmer in the air around them like a living thing.

If he could, he would give some of his years back to Fantine, so she could see her daughter again.

He would give some to these lads, too, and save them from the bullets awaiting them on the other side of the barricade.

But he can’t.

Enjolras’ voice draws him back toward the moment at hand, every second feeling precious, because death’s shadow creeps over the barricade even as the orange-red glow of the sunrise bursts over the Parisian skyline. “That is always time consuming, but my friends also find plenty of hours in the day for both their mistresses and their politics. I suppose I never felt the impulse.”

“I thought I heard one of your friends teasing and saying you were rather intrepid for a man who had no woman he loved,” Valjean says, finding himself talking more with Enjolras than he does with most people other than Cosette. “But I thought perhaps they just might not know that you did.”

Enjolras laughs softly, but there’s grief within the sound. “Oh, no. I keep no secrets from my friends. We are a family, after all. Bound together by love of the same cause, and years of friendship.” Enjolras’s voice cracks ever so slightly, his words growing heavy.

“You’ve lost good friends today.” Valjean almost clasps Enjolras on the shoulder, but he isn’t sure if the touch would be welcome, so he refrains, for now. “Not just compatriots.”

“Two of the best men I knew.” Enjolras glances over at Courfeyrac, Feuilly, Combeferre, Bossuet, and Joly, who stand nearby, a gleam of deep love in his eyes. “Bahorel and Prouvaire. Bahorel had a laugh you could never forget, and a formidable loyalty to those he chose as his own. Prouvaire had an absolutely astonishing soul, and poetry that could make any man cry, even if I don’t understand the finer points of the art form.” Enjolras touches his undone cravat, a bright-red against the more muted colors of the rest of his clothing. Perhaps a gift from the friends he mentioned. Then, his voice goes deeper, a dangerous anger puncturing the words. “Some of the national guardsmen executed Prouvaire point blank. It’s why I’m afraid the police inspector inside will meet his end here.”

Valjean tenses at that, Javert’s presence is a problem for him in a million ways even as he wishes to get him out of here unscathed. Javert is a thorn in his side. Javert could turn him in. Javert keeps turning up, and yet Valjean doesn’t want to see him killed. A strange sympathy for the police inspector wells up in Valjean’s chest, a sympathy of which he doesn’t entirely understand the root.

“I’m sure some people find it odd,” Enjolras continues, his words holding the ring of a confession. “My lack of a mistress or interest in marriage. But I have all I need with my friends.”

Valjean pauses, hesitant to share anything about himself with anyone, the instinct ingrained so deeply within him he doesn’t know how to undo it. He’s afraid to undo it.

“I understand.” Valjean speaks the words before he’s ready, but he does understand, and it’s almost a relief to hear Enjolras make his own admission. Their lives are very different, but that feeling is the same. “I have a daughter, you see. Not my blood, but…” Valjean trails off for a moment, an image of Fantine coughing until her whole body shook overtaking his memory. “…but my own nevertheless. The life I’ve led has never truly offered me the opportunity for marriage and the like, but then again I also haven’t found I desired any of that. So I don’t find it odd at all, if you want the opinion of an old man.”

Concern floods Enjolras’ face, his eyes widening in alarm. “You have a daughter and yet you gave yourself up for another man to leave? I didn’t know…I…” Enjolras is inarticulate now, and it’s a far cry from the beautiful ease of his earlier speech, the words he spoke to the crowd like a hymn caught in the wind. Valjean remembers how those words sunk into his old soul, watching as the flames of hope came alive in the eyes of the men surrounding him. Not hope for their own lives, necessarily, but hope for the future they all believe in.

Valjean does clasp Enjolras’ shoulder now. “Easy, lad. I know what I’m doing. I’ll be all right.”

Enjolras frowns, the earlier gravity returning. “I am far from certain that any of us are going to be all right, I’m afraid. I hate to see your daughter lose you. I’m sure she needs you.”

“I’ll be all right,” Valjean repeats.

He cannot say I faked my own death to escape a prison ship. He cannot say I once snuck into a convent by hiding in a coffin. He cannot say I have been through stranger things, and somehow survived. He’s honestly not sure if he will survive. But he has to try. He has to try to get Cosette’s young man back to her. Even if it means losing her, Valjean wants her happiness. She deserves her happiness. She deserves more than an old man like him.

Valjean’s eyes flick to Marius for the briefest of moments, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by Enjolras. Enjolras looks at Marius and back at Valjean again, some kind of recognition flashing in his face that he doesn’t voice.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I can convince you and your friends to leave the barricade?”

Valjean speaks before Enjolras can, hardly knowing what he’s saying.

A sad smile graces Enjolras’ features as the sun comes up fully over the barricade, gold dripping from the ends of his hair when the light strikes him.

“We will not surrender. My friends and I will do this together as we have so many other things in our lives these past years. We will survive together, or we will not.”

There’s a finality in Enjolras’ words among the grief and the hope and the unshakeable love Valjean hears.

“That kind of family is a beautiful thing to possess,” Valjean says, his words turning tremulous, and he clears his throat against the wave of emotion crashing over him. “That kind of family, and something to believe in.”

Enjolras blinks, wiping away a stray tear falling from his eye. “Those two things are all I have ever needed. Perhaps some might say that my lack of a mistress means I do not love, but that is not the truth.” Enjolras glances over at his friends again, and then at the sun casting the barricade in a golden glow, the light of a new day dawning. The dawn of the sixth of June. “I love so much I feel it might burst out of me at any moment. And sometimes it does.”

“I understand.” Valjean stands up at the same time as Enjolras, putting out his hand for the lad to shake. “I truly do.”

Enjolras accepts the handshake, his hand warm with life and kindness. “I hope that you find your way back to your daughter, citizen. Her name is?”

“Cosette,” Valjean says, something powerful filling him up as he says his child’s name, even more determined to get the Pontmercy boy back to her. He has never felt the kind of romantic feelings for someone like she possesses for that young man, but he does know what it is to deeply love, because she taught him.

“Cosette,” Enjolras repeats, handling the name with care. “Thank you for sharing a piece of yourself with me. It’s always nice to share something in common with someone when you didn’t expect it.”

Valjean nods, letting go of Enjolras’ hand. “It is. Thank you for talking with an old man.”

Enjolras smiles again before going back over to Combeferre and Courfeyrac, who each put an arm around him.

There’s still the matter of Javert inside the Corinthe. There’s still the matter of getting Cosette’s young man out of here. There’s still the matter of surviving long enough to do that. But Valjean marvels at the life on this barricade that is so obviously destined to end in death.

He marvels at the love all around him.

More words from Enjolras’ speech echo in his head, louder than the footsteps of the soldiers and the cannon fire on the other side of this chaotic, mismatched pile of wood that is the only thing standing between them and eternity.

Whence shall arise the shout of love, if it be not from the summit of sacrifice?

#Ace Mis Week #My fic #Enjolras #Valjean #Canon era #Les Miserables #Les Mis #Ace things

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badassindistress · 6 years

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A truly frightening Halloween Party

Okay so here's the scenario: Jehan gives a halloween party with the theme "fear". Courfeyrac will pout at anyone who doesn't try enough for their costumes:

Bahorel overcomes his fear and goes as a lawyer, robes and all

Joly might just go as a plague doctor. Because the idea that medicine can be so wrong is seriously scary ... and also it’s a symbol of plague but also legit cool medical history

Enjolras wanted to just wear a crown, but that got a level 2 Pout from Courf. Enj ended up being forced to go as Louis in full costume, since his other idea of "a people in bondage" would be fodder for innuendo for a year

Jehan wears a strict, drab school uniform. No individuality. It still looks good on them though,because

For the price of being allowed to tailor Jehan’s outfit, Montparnasse sacrificed greatly and doesn’t only wear an ill-fitting suit, but a thriftstore one. That’s worse than bad normal clothes. It means you tried, but you failed

Bossuet came as his Professor Blondeau, as a zombie (this is a very reasonable fear according to him, because no amount of eulogies or imagined deaths can make the man stop teaching)

Éponine comes as a fifties housewife, full getup, curled hair, looks GORGEOUS, all shiny, no agency, her mother’s dream

This got long, so have a readmore:

Combeferre goes as a Victorian adventurer, the kind that broke statues out of temples to bring them back and had mummy unwrapping parties. The impulse and curiosity for exploration turned into something harmful would be his nightmare

Cosette comes as that scary "I want to speak to the MANAGER" woman. As soon as they arrive, her and Éponine laugh over how similar their ideas are.

Feuilly is a bit of an odd case. He comes as Gene Wilder’s Willie Wonka. He identified with Charlie quite a bit and he just says he used to yell his head off as a kid whenever Wonka came on tv.

Courfeyrac straightens his hair and goes full goth, because the idea of going withough warmth and colour and hating everything makes hims miserable. He still looks adorable, even while mourning his hair.

Grantaire tried to explain he was going as a half-full glass, since nothing scares him more than optimists and not having enough to drink together. Neither Courf nor Enjolras would have that though, so he went for a last minute costume of only wearing grey and painting himself grey, as a world without colour

Musichetta, who works as a weddingplanner, comes as bridezilla. Even though her dress looks more like a cake than a garment, Joly and Bossuet both get a bit starry-eyed at the sight

Marius comes dressed as Napoleon and jokes to Combeferre that he has made him very afraid of anything to do with Napoleon. Courf says it doesn't quite count, but he'll let it slide because ‘come on Marius is in full military costume’.

#Enj and R are the only couple who don't dress to draw out the other #and only because Enjolras will pre-emptively divorce R if he says anything about his outfit #Apologies to Gene Wilder #but his Wonka just looks like someone to be irrationally scared of #Halloween #bulletpoint story #les amis #thanks to sunfreckle #who came up with half of these #including the Gene Wilder one #fabrications of my mind

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wikitopx · 4 years

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To you and me, Marseille soap is a quaint artisanal product.

But a century ago it was a huge international industry. And the center of the craft was Salon-de-Provence. The trade slumped a few decades later when washing machines and detergents arrived, but there are two old-school factories in the city, plying their craft as they did a century ago and happy to receive curious visitors. Soap doesn’t tell the whole story of the city, as there are a princely medieval castle and some sights relating to the enigmatic Nostradamus who lived and died here. The cute squares with airplane trees and coffee tables, and the rocky countryside of wild herbs, vines, and olive trees are all Provence photo books. Discover the best things to do in Salon-de-Provence.

[toc]

1. Savonnerie Marius Fabre

Marius Fabre soap is sold worldwide and has been produced at Salon-de-Provence for four generations since 1900. The factory is a rare vestige of an industry that led the world a century ago.

Free guided visits are offered in French or English, explaining all the traditional knowhow that still goes into this olive oil soap, from the first step to the completed product. There’s also a museum with antique boxwood soap stamps, molds, crates, and wonderful old packaging.

2. Château de l’Empéri

Surveying the Crau plain from cannabis on Rocher de Puech is the medieval castle Salon-de-Provence. The towers are a symbol for the city and cap a noble property formerly inhabited by the Archbishops of Arles and Holy Roman Emperors.

The castle has a museum inside dedicated to the French military up to the First World War, so among many things, you’ll notice how uniforms and small arms changed over the course of hundreds of years.

There are some awesome showpieces too, like the gloves worn by Napoleon during the Egyptian campaign and a leather pouch belonging to Louis XV.

3. Fontaine Moussue

Salon-de-Provence would be the same without the eerie mushroom fountain on Place Croustillat. The fountain has been here since the 1500s, at a place where the town’s residents have sought coolness and shade for much longer than that.

But it was only in the 20th century that concretions formed on the limestone, fusing the fountain’s two basins together. And since then moss and other vegetation have conquered the monument and caused its strange, fungus-like profile.

4. Tour de l’Horloge

Something else to admire while you sip coffee or aperitif at Place Croustillat is a beautiful Baroque tower that marks the northern entrance of the old city. This went up in the 1630s and replaced the old fortified gate.

There’s a lot of workmanship to run your eye over, from the gargoyles and quoins to the clock, moon phase chart and the elegant iron campanile.

Just above the pediment that caps the portal is a crest reading “La Loi” (The Law): This is an interesting remnant from the Revolution, as it is exactly where the King’s crest would have been.

5. Porte du Bourg Neuf

The hulking eastern entrance to the center of Salon-de-Provence is more how Salon-de-Provence’s ramparts would have looked before the 1600s. It’s a hardy crenelated gate, with an arrow loop on the front and machicolations under the battlements.

There’s a coat of arms just above the archway, and as you go through you’ll pass a medieval statue of the Virgin with Child. It’s a Black Madonna, and, as is usually the case, has turned this color because of the build-up of residue over hundreds of years.

6. Savonnerie Rampal Latour

On summer mornings the city’s other old soap factory is happy to show you its century of know-how. Rampal has been in running at this site since 1907 and, because it sticks with time-honored methods, makes a soap that is both kinds to your skin and the environment.

Although this quaint old factory is from the early 20th century you’ll learn how the craft runs much deeper in the Rampal family, to at least 100 years before that. If you are impressed by what you see here, or already know about Rampal Latour, you can buy this handmade soap in bulk at the factory's store.

7. Maison de Nostradamus

This 16th-century prophet, born Michel de Nostredame, still has the power to fascinate people for nearly half a millennium after his death.

At Salon-de-Provence, you can go to the house where he lived from 1547 to 1566. His most famous book, Prophecies was written while he was at this address today is Rue Nostradamus.

There aren’t any artifacts from Nostradamus’ time; instead, you’ll get a 40-minute audioguide tour that frames the man as a Renaissance humanist, devoting himself to learning and science in the risky days of the Inquisition.

8. Église Saint-Laurent

This church was built beyond the city’s northern walls in the 14th and 15th centuries. It’s a Gothic edifice, but there are also hints of the Romanesque: You can see this earlier style in the lack of ornamentation on the outside, and how narrow the window openings are.

This might also have been a way to counter the mistral and fierce summer sun, and keep the inside cool. Either way, the interior dazzles with some of its décors. Things to hunt down in here are the 16th-century polychrome sculpture of Mary cradling Jesus’ body, and the tomb of Nostradamus in the Chapel of the Virgin.

9. Town Hall

More of sight to take in as you pass, the Hôtel de Ville still merits a stop and a photo. Like the Tour de l’Horloge close by, it’s from the 17th century and bears a lot of similarities in its Baroque style.

At ground level what will catch the eye is the fine wooden lintel, carved with Salon-de-Provence’s coat of arms. On the building’s front, two corners are turrets, while the building is capped with a stately balustrade.

On the square in front is a statue of the 16th-century engineer, Adam de Craponne. He was credited with opening up the town to agriculture by digging the canals that brought water from the Durance.

10. Zoo de la Barben

Give it 10 minutes on the Route de Saint-Cannat and you’ll be at the gates of this highly-rated zoo. You’ll visit to see hundreds of animals from 120 different species, but also to see some more of the bucolic countryside on the plateau just east of the city.

The park is in 30 hectares of holm oak forest, while if you’re concerned about animal welfare you might be happy to read that it channels profits to international animal protection projects.

Kids will be happy just to see elephants, giraffes, tigers, hippos, various bears, wolves, and jaguars.

More ideals for you: Top 10 things to do in Sainte Marie

From : https://wikitopx.com/travel/top-10-things-to-do-in-salon-de-provence-709803.html

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micaramel · 7 years

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Artist: Marius Engh

Venue: STANDARD (OSLO)

Exhibition Title: Eschscholzia California

Date: August 18 – September 16, 2017

Click here to view slideshow

Full gallery of images, press release and link available after the jump.

Images:

Images courtesy of STANDARD (OSLO). Photos by Vegard Kleven.

Press Release:

“In the middle of the night I got up. I had decided to do so the night before. I had been thinking of an object that I wanted to get hold of. A window from Rustic Canyon. I took my bike from the studio, put it in the van and drove to the bluffs of Palisades Park and down along the shore on the Pacific Coast Highway One. Within the short distance before I turned off the highway and up the hills, I was finding myself between the darkness of an unlit ocean and the sleeping city – driving on the edge of a dream, the city and the world.

A billboard advertisement flashed up: The Man in the High Castle. Coming Soon. The silhouette of a man figure in uniform overlooking a city. An American flag flying overhead. His arm band is of the kind that carries a black, crawling, four-legged spider.

At the mouth of Rustic Creek I took Chautauqua Boulevard up along the Pacific Palisades. The Eames House is tucked in behind Eucalyptus trees up on the slope on the left and, turning right, I had the Rustic Canyon neighbourhood below and Will Rogers State Historic Park above. I followed the winding road – tracing Sunset Boulevard with my headlights. Up on Capri Drive I thought of what Steven Spielberg would possibly be dreaming of, fast asleep in his house somewhere to the left of me. Kubrick’s Napoleon? I reached the top and parked where the paved and civilized world ends.

Another darkness appeared ahead of me: blackened even deeper by my feeling of foreignness and the fact that I didn’t want to be seen at all. I turned on my torch and took the dusty fire road, protruding a dizzy beam of light onto it. No one here. Just as I intended. After a short while I passed the yellow colored road block, and crooked myself around its bar. It’s all slightly uphill and on the left side stooping downhill. I thought of a car wreck stuck deep down in one of the bends. The dirt road is cut along and near the top of the ridge of the canyon. Just on the other side, the sprawl of the city stops. And here I am in a vacuum: an abrupt halt to its process. This open space is known as the “Big Wild”. Far down there is the Rustic Creek again, or the waterbed traces of it. It’s been unusually dry for years. It’s only when it appears again further down towards the ocean that there is water collected in a concrete culvert. It’s a cool breeze and it carries a hint of burnt wood, making me think of the colossal brush fires that have swept through here from time to time. I saw traces of smaller fires along this road in the spring. My imagination lit the way and kept it burning with the thought of all the Eucalyptus trees that were present here, all deriving from the former Santa Monica Forestry Station – an experimentation by Abbot Kinney, on varieties of the immigrated tree. It opened in 1887, and itself burned down in 1904, just like the properties higher up in the canyon did later, and to where I was heading now. No lights to guide me from its ruins. The unknown, crumbled by time’s tooth and the licking of fire, now covered by a coat of overgrowth and night.

999 steps lead you to the bottom of the canyon. From here two flights of stairs start as well as a barbed wired chain-linked fence. It runs ahead of me as I continue on the road beside it. Having visited the place earlier, me and my friend Jordan were stopped by a patrol car for a “talk”, just as we had started descending a trail. Speaking from a distance, the officer – still up on the road and tucked behind sunglasses, a badge and the wheel of the car – talked to us about his duty keeping people out of the property. That was if your intention was not of the right kind. There was a “beautification project” going on. Beautiful in the way you picture a picnic in the green. He continued to come up with ideas for not carrying on. “Nothing down there of any interest. Should rather continue up the fire road till it hits Mulholland Drive and go left and you’ll find the Nike Missile Control Site.” We continued down through the chaparral.”

– Marius Engh, Santa Monica, November 11, 2013

Marius Engh (born 1974) lives and works in Oslo. This is his sixth solo exhibition at STANDARD (OSLO). Other solo exhibitions include “Eschscholzia Californica” at Centrum Kultury Zamek, Galeria Przedmiot Fotografil, Poznan, Poland; “Nec Plus Ultra”, Taylor Macklin, Zürich, Switzerland; “Eschscholzia Californica” at Emanuel Layr, Vienna; “My Target Is Your Eyes” at Galleria Gentili, Prato; and “Exhume to Consume” at Supportico Lopez, Berlin. Marius Engh’s works have previously been included in exhibitions at Musée d’Art Moderne de la Ville de Paris, Paris; Kunsthalle Wien, Vienna; Tenerife Espacio de las Artes, Santa Cruz, Tenerife; Henie Onstad Art Center, Høvik; Kunsthall Oslo, Oslo; Museum of Contemporary Art, Chicago; Westfälischer Kunstverein, Münster; Bergen Kunsthall, Bergen; and Witte de With, Rotterdam.

Link: Marius Engh at STANDARD (OSLO)

Contemporary Art Daily is produced by Contemporary Art Group, a not-for-profit organization. We rely on our audience to help fund the publication of exhibitions that show up in this RSS feed. Please consider supporting us by making a donation today.

from Contemporary Art Daily http://bit.ly/2jlOAcQ

#micaramel

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