#lm 5.1.8

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Round 2, Matchup 98: V.i.8 vs V.iii.9

[thevagueambition]

A concept I'm obsessed with, and which makes a substantial appearance in Enjolras' barriacde scenes, is the concept of moral martyrdom

The ends don't justify the means, but that does not mean that awful means are never not to achieve just goals. The powerful do not give up their power on a whim. All that the people has, the people has fought for.

If natural law can judge all existing law only in criticizing its ends, then positive law can judge all evolving law only in criticizing its means. If justice is the criterion of ends, legality is that of means. Notwith­standing this antithesis, however, both schools meet in their common basic dogma: just ends can be attained by justified means, justified means used for just ends. Natural law attempts, by the justness of the ends, to "justify" the means, positive law to "guarantee" the justness of the ends through the justification of the means. This antinomy would prove insoluble if the common dogmatic assumption were false, if justified means on the one hand and just ends on the other were in irreconcilable conflict. Critique of Violence, Walter Benjamin

When Enjolras liquidates Cabuc for killing a civillian, Enjolras does the necessary and in so doing condemns himself.

"Citizens," said Enjolras, "what that man did is frightful, what I have done is horrible. He killed, therefore I killed him. I had to do it, because insurrection must have its discipline. Assassination is even more of a crime here than elsewhere; we are under the eyes of the Revolution, we are the priests of the Republic, we are the victims of duty, and must not be possible to slander our combat. I have, therefore, tried that man, and condemned him to death. As for myself, constrained as I am to do what I have done, and yet abhorring it, I have judged myself also, and you shall soon see to what I have condemned myself." [...] "In executing this man, I have obeyed necessity; but necessity is a monster of the old world, necessity's name is Fatality. Les Mis 4.12.8

If the uprising had become a revolution and if said revolution had succeeded in making the world Enjolras was imagining, Enjolras would not think he had a place in that world. Achieving the just would not wipe his hands clean of what he has done with them to build it. What he has done is horrible and doing horrible things is the purvey of necessity -- not of the righteous future he glimpses from the barricade's horizon.

"What a pity!" said Combeferre. "What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant, you are not looking at him. Fancy, he is a charming young man; he is intrepid; it is evident that he is thoughtful; those young artillery-men are very well educated; he has a father, a mother, a family; he is probably in love; he is not more than five and twenty at the most; he might be your brother." "He is," said Enjolras. "Yes," replied Combeferre, "he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him." "Let me alone. It must be done." And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras' marble cheek. At the same moment, he pressed the trigger of his rifle. Les Mis 5.1.8

The sergeant is Enjolras' brother, his comrade, his neighbour -- he is another human being whom Enjolras would prefer to treat with the care and dignity all human beings ought to be afforded. He is not the opressor class, but simply a tool of them -- a young man similar to Enjolras in all but ideology.

There is literal martyrdom, where one dies for the cause, and there is moral martyrdom, where one sacrifices one's clean hands, one's peace of mind, for the cause. Enjolras does both.

"I've given up all chance at inner peace. I've made my mind a sunless space. I share my dreams with ghosts. I wake up every day to an equation I wrote 15 years ago from which there's only one conclusion, I'm damned for what I do. My anger, my ego, my unwillingness to yield, my eagerness to fight, they've set me on a path from which there is no escape. I yearned to be a savior against injustice without contemplating the cost and by the time I looked down there was no longer any ground beneath my feet. What is my sacrifice? I'm condemned to use the tools of my enemy to defeat them. I burn my decency for someone else's future. I burn my life to make a sunrise that I know I'll never see. And the ego that started this fight will never have a mirror or an audience or the light of gratitude. So what do I sacrifice? Everything!" One Way Out, Andor

[syrupsyche]

Another favourite quote day! I can't write anything better than what cliozaur and dolphin has written but I'll throw in my meager two cents:

All of Enjolras' "named" kills are always done in response to the death(s) of the men around him, thus embodying the whole concept of Justice; only killing when he has to. And every time he does it, it pains him more.

"He might be your brother" / "He is" line can be talked about forever and ever til the end of time; a direct reference to Hugo's previous mention of:

Civil war—what does that mean? Is there a foreign war? Is not all war between men, war between brothers? (4.13.3)

I don't think I have to point out the similarities in the language comparing the artillery sergeant to Enjolras: blond, mid-20s, a "charming young man" who are both capable of violence. He is practically shooting himself then; an even bigger foreshadowing of his fate. And Combeferre trying to dissuade him; I'm not entirely sure why he puts Enjolras through such a sad moral dilemma- perhaps he's facing the same one himself and is just trying to convince both of them that it did not be done? (After all, "the good must be innocent".) Alas, what is necessary must be done, and only Enjolras has the strength to do it, even when it (literally) kills him to.

[thebrickinbrick]

The Artillery-Men Compel People To Take Them Seriously

They flocked round Gavroche. But he had no time to tell anything. Marius drew him aside with a shudder.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hullo!” said the child, “what are you doing here yourself?”

And he stared at Marius intently with his epic effrontery. His eyes grew larger with the proud light within them.

It was with an accent of severity that Marius continued:

“Who told you to come back? Did you deliver my letter at the address?”

Gavroche was not without some compunctions in the matter of that letter. In his haste to return to the barricade, he had got rid of it rather than delivered it. He was forced to acknowledge to himself that he had confided it rather lightly to that stranger whose face he had not been able to make out. It is true that the man was bareheaded, but that was not sufficient. In short, he had been administering to himself little inward remonstrances and he feared Marius’ reproaches. In order to extricate himself from the predicament, he took the simplest course; he lied abominably.

“Citizen, I delivered the letter to the porter. The lady was asleep. She will have the letter when she wakes up.”

Marius had had two objects in sending that letter: to bid farewell to Cosette and to save Gavroche. He was obliged to content himself with the half of his desire.

The despatch of his letter and the presence of M. Fauchelevent in the barricade, was a coincidence which occurred to him. He pointed out M. Fauchelevent to Gavroche.

“Do you know that man?”

“No,” said Gavroche.

Gavroche had, in fact, as we have just mentioned, seen Jean Valjean only at night.

The troubled and unhealthy conjectures which had outlined themselves in Marius’ mind were dissipated. Did he know M. Fauchelevent’s opinions? Perhaps M. Fauchelevent was a republican. Hence his very natural presence in this combat.

In the meanwhile, Gavroche was shouting, at the other end of the barricade: “My gun!”

Courfeyrac had it returned to him.

Gavroche warned “his comrades” as he called them, that the barricade was blocked. He had had great difficulty in reaching it. A battalion of the line whose arms were piled in the Rue de la Petite Truanderie was on the watch on the side of the Rue du Cygne; on the opposite side, the municipal guard occupied the Rue des Prêcheurs. The bulk of the army was facing them in front.

This information given, Gavroche added:

“I authorize you to hit ’em a tremendous whack.”

Meanwhile, Enjolras was straining his ears and watching at his embrasure.

The assailants, dissatisfied, no doubt, with their shot, had not repeated it.

A company of infantry of the line had come up and occupied the end of the street behind the piece of ordnance. The soldiers were tearing up the pavement and constructing with the stones a small, low wall, a sort of side-work not more than eighteen inches high, and facing the barricade. In the angle at the left of this epaulement, there was visible the head of the column of a battalion from the suburbs massed in the Rue Saint-Denis.

Enjolras, on the watch, thought he distinguished the peculiar sound which is produced when the shells of grape-shot are drawn from the caissons, and he saw the commander of the piece change the elevation and incline the mouth of the cannon slightly to the left. Then the cannoneers began to load the piece. The chief seized the lint-stock himself and lowered it to the vent.

“Down with your heads, hug the wall!” shouted Enjolras, “and all on your knees along the barricade!”

The insurgents who were straggling in front of the wine-shop, and who had quitted their posts of combat on Gavroche’s arrival, rushed pell-mell towards the barricade; but before Enjolras’ order could be executed, the discharge took place with the terrifying rattle of a round of grape-shot. This is what it was, in fact.

The charge had been aimed at the cut in the redoubt, and had there rebounded from the wall; and this terrible rebound had produced two dead and three wounded.

If this were continued, the barricade was no longer tenable. The grape-shot made its way in.

A murmur of consternation arose.

“Let us prevent the second discharge,” said Enjolras.

And, lowering his rifle, he took aim at the captain of the gun, who, at that moment, was bearing down on the breach of his gun and rectifying and definitely fixing its pointing.

The captain of the piece was a handsome sergeant of artillery, very young, blond, with a very gentle face, and the intelligent air peculiar to that predestined and redoubtable weapon which, by dint of perfecting itself in horror, must end in killing war.

Combeferre, who was standing beside Enjolras, scrutinized this young man.

“What a pity!” said Combeferre. “What hideous things these butcheries are! Come, when there are no more kings, there will be no more war. Enjolras, you are taking aim at that sergeant, you are not looking at him. Fancy, he is a charming young man; he is intrepid; it is evident that he is thoughtful; those young artillery-men are very well educated; he has a father, a mother, a family; he is probably in love; he is not more than five and twenty at the most; he might be your brother.”

“He is,” said Enjolras.

“Yes,” replied Combeferre, “he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him.”

“Let me alone. It must be done.”

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras’ marble cheek.

At the same moment, he pressed the trigger of his rifle. The flame leaped forth. The artillery-man turned round twice, his arms extended in front of him, his head uplifted, as though for breath, then he fell with his side on the gun, and lay there motionless. They could see his back, from the centre of which there flowed directly a stream of blood. The ball had traversed his breast from side to side. He was dead.

He had to be carried away and replaced by another. Several minutes were thus gained, in fact.

[dolphin1812]

I love that Gavroche feels so guilty because it’s somewhat funny that that’s his concern here and that Valjean is completely unrecognizable to him (and that Marius is willing to accept all of this as coincidence, although, in his defense, he’s really been having a rough time). 

Unfortunately, the cannon has stopped being comedic relief and has become an actual threat. Combeferre’s “he might be your brother” speech is moving and troubling at once. On the one hand, it highlights again the compassion the Amis have for their enemies. Since they hate violence even though they use it, they don’t take pleasure in combat, leading even Enjolras to weep here. He and Enjolras both conclude that this man is their brother because of their shared humanity. On the other, in humanizing this man, he focuses on specific identity markers, like education and being in love, that can be very exclusionary. This character gets more sympathy because of his (supposed) bourgeois background, his youth, and his possible romance, with the unfortunate implication that one without those traits is less sympathetic. Still, Hugo’s audience included the bourgeoisie, so Les Amis’ compassion here also serves to underscore that they don’t hate anyone, bourgeois or otherwise; they act for justice, not for malicious purposes.

[cliozaur]

The one in which Marius interrogates Gavroche, as his clever plan of saving the boy did not go as he had anticipated. Gavroche manages to persuade Marius that he left his letter with a porter, although he has some qualms of consciousness. Marius entertains doubts about the presence of Jean Valjean on the barricade, which almost coincides with him sending a letter to Cosette. He nearly pieces together the real picture but then he imagines “M. Fauchelevent” being a true republican and dismisses his doubts. In fact, we know nothing about Valjean’s political views. Does he have any?

The second half of the chapter revolves around an artilleryman killing people at the barricade with grape-shots. Hugo’s pacifistic prediction stings, as he speaks about the weapon “which, by dint of perfecting itself in horror, must end in killing war.”

I kind of understand the symbolic function of the dialogue between Combeferre and Enjolras about (not)killing the young officer, but it seems so inappropriate at that moment! Is it only this “charming young man” who must be spared because he is so similar to them that he could be their brother? What about the other soldiers and officers? And what was the purpose of the revolution and building the barricade? What about people at the barricade who are dying of grape-shots? So many questions! Actually, this brings us back to Marius’ contemplation of the nature of the civil war a couple of dozen chapters ago. A tear on Enjolras’ “marble cheek” suggests that Combeferre’s arguments are not foreign to him, but he probably also grapples with the aforementioned questions and his response is to do what is necessary right now. Unfortunately, it will only buy them a few more minutes.

[grotius]

im so sad abt a character whose unflinching duty to perceived justice and role as a sort of sacred measurer of fates makes them do terrible things ....... and they're even androgynous. am i talking abt enjolras or themis ff14 🤕

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 5.1.8 “The Gunners Taken Seriously”

Gah, Combeferre is so far in the wrong here? I don’t know if I’d really put together before how much the grapeshot is an immediate existential threat to the barricade that they need to solve NOW, before another shot of it is fired, and the artilleryman is the one about to do that.

Yeah, Combeferre doesn’t like killing, which: very fair! But man, it is not the time for that objection, when it’s the death of this guy vs the fall of the barricade and all their deaths RIGHT NOW. It’s not really the time for that objection in general! They are on a barricade, which he judged to be a worthwhile goal! The government is shooting at them! The two sides of this fight are not equally right and there isn’t some peaceful alternative way of fixing the world! Combeferre you KNEW THE PREMISE.

And he’s a doctor, and he hates killing, and even his fascination with weapons of war seems to be at least in part a compensatory obsession to deal with how much he hates this. I get that he’s coming apart from the stress, and I sympathize, a lot.

But aghhh, his reasons why this guy’s life is worth preserving are. Something.

Combeferre’s arguments:

- He is presumably well-educated and looks like a thinker.

- He “could be [Enjolras’s] brother,” ie he looks like Enjolras, who is Combeferre’s friend.

- That is to say, he’s around twenty-five, handsome, blond, and blue-eyed.

- He probably has parents and may be in love.

His larger point, which does make sense, is this is a human being with a specific history, and also that he really could just be another Ami, if things were different. Combeferre was probably used to trying to recruit people like this guy in more peaceful times. He describes him “charming” and “intrepid” which links him to Enjolras and Prouvaire, the two Amis we’ve seen Combeferre being closest to. He’s seeing a mirror across the barricade, and the people over there don’t look that different.

But wow do I not love “he’s white and has familiar middle-class class advantages!!!” as reasons this guy’s life particularly matters?

Like: yeah! You guys do happen to look a lot like the people you’re fighting! This has as much to do with Hugo being weird about having working class protagonists as it does anything else, given that in actual history this is a working class rebellion! You guys also look a lot like Tholomyes’s whole friend group! This is not an indicator of worth!

Like everything Combeferre says when he’s fraying, it’s not totally wrong--this guy’s life has value, same as everyone else’s. But Enjolras’s sorrowful “he is [my brother]” gets that point much, much better than Combeferre seems to.

And maybe it is worthwhile to remind Enjolras of that. That has been the role of Combeferre and his other friends in his life, and he seems to have gotten the point.

It just feels so unsettling that this moment that kind of disguises itself as a moment of a Myriel-like impulse on the barricade is kind of the opposite of the things Myriel most stood for--that people’s lives and souls matter regardless of their outward appearances, educations, virtues, or prospects.

I keep thinking about the Conventionist’s directive:

“I will weep for the children of kings with you, if you will weep with me for the children of the people."

"I weep for them all," the bishop said.

"Equally," G- exclaimed, "and if the balance tips, let it be on the side of the people: They have suffered longer."

Combeferre knows that, of course. I don’t think he values the life of artillery sergeant less than that of the child who starved to death, at least when he has time to think about it.

He’s just fraying and losing it and losing friends and really fucking done with all the killing.

[fremedon]

Brickclub 5.1.7, 5.1.8, and 5.1.9

I don’t have much to add to @everyonewasabird‘s writeups here (5.1.7, 5.1.8, 5.1.9), so I’m just going to make a roundup of random observations.

--There are a surprising number of astronomy images in 5.1.7, in what feels like a pre-echo of Combeferre’s upcoming line about people who study the rules of honor as they study the stars--an especially bitter line, given that one of the opposition figures who didn’t show up was Arago, whose lectures on optics Comberferre canonically attended. Here, besides the lines about the speed of light, we have the artillery sergeant aiming the cannon “with the gravity of an astronomer training a telescope” and the “étoile mobile” as the name of a portable caliber gauge.

--Gavroche, returning to the barricade, replies to Marius’s “what are you doing here” with “Well, and what about you?” GOOD QUESTION, GAVROCHE.

--He also “lies abominably” when asked whether he delivered the letter to Cosette herself--and says confidently that he has never seen Valjean.

I am going to be judging Marius for so much after the barricade, but not for his genuine confusion about whether Valjean was there.

--”On the alert, Enjolras thought he detected that distinctive sound made when canister-shells are taken out of ammunition chests.”

We don’t get any details about what any of the Amis were doing in 1830, but I would take that line as confirmation that Enjolras was there for it.

--Combeferre is, to a lesser extent, doing what Valjean is doing here: seeing through a sort of moral tunnel vision that reduces the problems in front of him to Yes/No, with no thought for consequences. His protests over the killing of the artillery sergeant are the most obvious example, but also, when Enjolras commands that they need to block up the gap with a mattress--because without one, the barricade won’t last fifteen minutes--he answers “We have none spare; the wounded are lying on them.”

[kittycattscathy]

[…]he might be your brother.”

“He is,” said Enjolras.

“Yes,” replied Combeferre, “he is mine too. Well, let us not kill him.”

“Let me alone. It must be done.”

And a tear trickled slowly down Enjolras’ marble cheek.

Les misérables 5.1.8 Hapgood translation.

Et voila, my contribution to barricade day

(changed the background cause I didn’t like it)

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Round 1, Matchup 59: I.vii.10 vs V.I.8

[marjorierose]

L'espoir dura peu; la lueur s'éclipsa vite.

Today in devastatingly short sentences from Victor Hugo. ("Hope didn't last long; the light was quickly eclipsed.")

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V.i.8 Les artilleurs se font prendre au sérieux

The Gunners Produce a Serious Impression: Wilbour

The Artillery Sets To Work In Earnest: Wraxall

The Artillery-Men Compel People To Take Them Seriously: Hapgood

The Artillerymen Begin to Take Things in Earnest: Gray

The Gunners Show Their Worth: Denny

The Gunners Taken Seriously: FMA

The Gunners Get Themselves Taken Seriously: Rose

The Gunners Have to be Taken Seriously: Donougher