#lm 2.1.14

[secretmellowblog]

The question “if you could put one fuck in Les mis where would you put it” has an objectively correct answer. It’s the chapter where Cambronne responds to the French defeat at the battle of Waterloo by saying “merde”/“shit,” followed by a chapter where Hugo waxes poetic about the power of such a curse word. Replace “merde” with Cambronne saying “fuck!”

[cliozaur]

It seems to be the fate of some French to make the last stand of the already lost battle. Before Les Amis, there was the last square of Cambronne. These parallels are very clear: "It replied to the grape-shot with a fusillade, continually contracting its four walls" and "When this legion had been reduced to a handful, when nothing was left of their flag but a rag, when their guns, the bullets all gone, were no longer anything but clubs, when the heap of corpses was larger than the group of survivors."

And it’s symbolic that Cambronne replies "Merde!" to the proposition to surrender. Given how this reply is important for the next chapter, it’s both strange and amusing to see that the shy censors of Hapgood’s translation left an empty space instead of this "Merde!"

[pureanonofficial]

LES MIS LETTERS IN ADAPTATION - The Last Square, LM 2.1.14 (I miserabili 1964)

Through the shades of twilight they could hear the pieces being loaded; the matches all lighted, like the eyes of tigers at night, formed a circle round their heads; all the lintstocks of the English batteries approached the cannons, and then, with emotion, holding the supreme moment suspended above these men, an English general, Colville according to some, Maitland according to others, shouted to them, “Surrender, brave Frenchmen!” Cambronne replied, “Merde!”

[dolphin1812]

This chapter is very short, so I’ll just go paragraph by paragraph:

“A few squares of the Guard, standing motionless in the swash of the rout, like rocks in running water, held out till night. They awaited the double shadow of night and death, and let them surround them. Each regiment, isolated from the others, and no longer connected with the army which was broken on all sides, died where it stood. In order to perform this last exploit, they had taken up a position, some on the heights of Rossomme, others on the plain of Mont St. Jean. The gloomy squares, deserted, conquered, and terrible, struggled formidably with death, for Ulm, Wagram, Jena, and Friedland were dying in it. When twilight set in at nine in the evening, one square still remained at the foot of the plateau of Mont St. Jean. In this mournful valley, at the foot of the slope scaled by the cuirassiers, now inundated by the English masses, beneath the converging fire of the hostile and victorious artillery, under a fearful hailstorm of projectiles, this square still resisted. It was commanded by an obscure officer of the name of Cambronne. At each volley the square diminished, but continued to reply to the canister with musketry fire, and each moment contracted its four walls. Fugitives in the distance, stopping at moments to draw breath, listened in the darkness to this gloomy diminishing thunder.”

The simile of “rocks in running water” is kind of beautiful for something so gruesome? I don’t have very concrete thoughts on it, I just think Hugo chose a nice image there. However, it does represent another example of Hugo’s interest in water metaphors, which recurs later in the paragraph as the English “inundate” the valley. I think his word choice there is really effective. There’s something terrifying about being trapped in a flooding valley, where the landscape makes escape impossible, and having that be where the French are stuck heightens the sense of panic.

This paragraph also makes numerous references to darkness: the “double shadow of night and death;” “twilight;” and “listened in the darkness to this gloomy diminishing thunder.” While most references to darkness so far have been metaphorical, here, this darkness is very literal (night is falling) even as it represents death. The simple language used to describe it makes it more impactful. This darkness is not about the struggle within a person, or between a person and fate, which merits lengthy paragraphs; this is simply the darkness of night and the darkness of death.

“When this legion had become only a handful, when their colors were but a rag, when their ammunition was exhausted, and muskets were clubbed, and when the pile of corpses was greater than the living group, the victors felt a species of sacred awe, and the English artillery ceased firing. It was a sort of respite; these combatants had around them an army of spectres, outlines of mounted men, the black profile of guns, and the white sky visible through the wheels; the colossal death's-head which heroes ever glimpse in the smoke of a battle, advanced and looked at them. They could hear in the twilight gloom that the guns were being loaded; the lighted matches, resembling the eyes of a tiger in the night, formed a circle round their heads. The linstocks of the English batteries approached the guns, and at this moment an English general,—Colville according to some, Maitland according to others,—holding the supreme moment suspended over the heads of these men, shouted to them, "Brave Frenchmen, surrender!"”

Hugo again leans on the horrific aspects of defeat. The reference to the “pile of corpses” is the most brutal part of this, highlighting the extent of French losses during the battle, but the way he describes the English contributes to this as well. They are “spectres” who appear in black and white, partly because of the darkness and partly because of their ghostliness. Even though the French can see some things, most of the details here are about what they hear. They can’t see well enough to make out every detail, and thus have to rely on their other senses while surrounded by these armed spectres (which again, is terrifying to imagine). That everything is in black and white also makes the events seem graver and more extreme, as all the soldiers see is in absolute contrasts rather than in an array of colors. 

It’s also intriguing that Hugo says the matches of the English resembled “the eyes of a tiger in the night.” On the one hand, tigers are predators, making this an apt comparison for a force endangering the lives of these French soldiers. On the other, Hugo typically employs feline imagery for the masses and the downtrodden (Valjean, the people of Paris, etc). If this was against Napoleon, perhaps this would fit this pattern, as his downfall is linked to divine retribution on behalf of the populace. Here, though, all of the French soldiers present are fairly ordinary rank-wise. Even Cambronne is only an “obscure officer.” Consequently, this big cat comparison may really just be for the predatory image.

Another detail that’s emphasized here is the courage of these soldiers. Hugo calls them “heroes,” and even the English address them as “brave Frenchmen.” This could be a formulaic way of seeming respectful on the battlefield, so it might not be unusual, but it also could be a way of making sure the French are praised even in defeat.

Cambronne answered, "Merde!"

So this is what the next chapter will be about!

[ranocchiowo]

why did lm 2.1.14 get sent so late lol

[everyonewasabird]

Brickclub 2.1.14 ‘The last square’

Each regiment, cut off from the others and with no further communication with the army that had entirely disintegrated, died in its own manner.

Oh. Oh no.

We began with the ruins of the barricade, then the battle we progressed through had similarities to the barricade fight but was ultimately a very different kind of war, with very different goals.

But now, as it splinters, we’re looking at squares of soldiers “trapped between four walls,” with no communication between each other.

We’re at the barricades.

Only, the barricades communicated a little: Chanvrerie could hear the tocsin of Saint-Merry, Enjolras was able to do a little reconnaissance at times, and Hugo posits Saint-Merry’s & Chanvrerie’s mutual bravery and resolve as a kind of psychic communication between them.

These last brave Waterloo fighters are utterly alone.

At the end, we get a moment of quiet. We see the white of the sky between the wheels and gun carriages, and the tigers’ eyes of the lighted wicks of the cannons. It’s the closest thing to being in the point of view of a character we’ve had at Waterloo--we’ve heard people’s minds and words and faces described here and there, but I don’t think we’ve ever stood quietly next to anyone, seeing the dusk and smoke through their eyes.

Of course that distinction is given to Cambronne.

@fremedon​ brought up the tigers coming at night (damn I wish it could be a real reference!) and the act of yelling “Merde!” in defiance to the end as reminiscent of Fantine. I think there’s even more there: Fantine dies cut off and alone in her despair. There were people helping her for some time, but all those relationships--Valjean, Simplice--were a little adversarial. No one prioritized what mattered to her--getting Cosette, here, now--and nobody fucking communicated.

The obvious parallel to Cambronne in this book is Enjolras, and that’s real. But Enjolras fights with love and connection and a broader vision, always. He doesn’t die alone. At the very end, when his friends are dead and it might have ended like this, there’s still one spark of love and connection left.

[meta-squash]

Brick Club 2.1.14 “The Last Square”

We end the same way the barricades ended: a few formations hanging on, holding till the last, but knowing all is lost even as they’re standing their ground. But the barricades fell during the day; the last of Napoleon’s men fell at night, in darkness. There is a difference between sacrificing for the good of many and sacrificing for loyalty to one man.

“It answered grape shot with bullets, continually shrinking its four walls.” I just want to point out that the book that contains the last major action at the barricade is titled “The War Between Four Walls.” This final formation of the guard is a mirror of the barricade. Both are commanded by an “obscure officer” and both fight to the last.

“Far off the fugitives, momentarily pausing for breath, listened to this dismal thunder decreasing in the darkness.” This parallel isn’t those who were made by Enjolras to leave the barricade. The parallel is the people of Paris. This line reminded me of Enjolras’ line when he came back from reconnaissance: “As for the populace, it was seething yesterday, today it is not stirring. There is nothing to expect; nothing to hope for. Neither from a faubourg nor from a regiment. You are abandoned.” Waterloo’s fugitives stop and listen to those fighters falling one by one, the same way the people of Paris held their breath and listened as each barricade fell one by one.

@fremedon and @everyonewasabird have mentioned Fantine in the “tigers eyes” as well as her dying cut off and in despair. I think another connection is the sacrifice: “When this legion was reduced to a handful, when their banner was no more than shreds, when their muskets, out of ammunition, were nothing but clubs, when the pile of corpses was larger than the band of the living, a sort of sacred terror spread among the conquerors, for these sublime martyrs...” Fantine has also been called sublime and a martyr. This slow falling away of every defense reminded me of Fantine’s slow sacrifice of her beauty.

Oh hey, the description of the huge cannons outlined against the white sky reminded me of the description of the huge cart and chain outside of the Thenardier’s inn. That cart (which I think Hugo says is a lumber cart?) is specifically described as looking like the gun-carriage of a huge cannon. There, Fantine is the oblivious French, facing down the cannons of the English before the fighting has started, unaware of how they’ll face those cannons again at their end.

[fremedon]

Brickclub 2.1.14, “The Last Square”

As Napoleon’s army is routed and slaughtered, the symbolic weight of Waterloo becomes concentrated in the survivors. Up til now, the whole battlefield has been the barricade. Now, each of the last squares of the Old Guard becomes an isolated barricade:

Isolated from the others and cut off from the army now scattered in every direction, each regiment died alone. To make this final stand they had taken up position, some on the Rossomme heights, others on the Mont-St-Jean plain. There, abandoned, vanquished, awesome, these grim squares died magnificently.

And then, there was one left. “It replied to grapeshot with gunfire, its four walls continually contracting,” Hugo says, calling forward to the chapter title “War Between Four Walls,” and forward and back to the unluckiness of fours throughout the book. And in the manner of its death, it echoes the Chanvrerie barricade almost exactly:

When this legion was no more than a handful, when their flag was no more than a tatter; when, having used up all their bullets, their guns were no more than truncheons; when the heap of corpses was larger than the group left alive, there was among the victors a sort of sacred terror around these noblest of dying men, and the English artillery, pausing for breath, fell silent.

The progress of the last stand is the same, but the barricade’s assailants are insensitive to this sacred terror. There’s no moment of respite like this from the National Guard, no request for surrender.

The lighted linstocks (I learned a new word! It’s a long pole holding a slow match, used for lighting artillery), in a circle around the last square, look like tigers’ eyes in the dark. (Lions are almost entirely positive in this book. Tigers less so; Javert was a tiger.)

Also, huh. There really is a textual basis for “but the tigers come at night.” I wish I thought that was a deliberate reference to this moment. If there’s one other character in this book who sees the walls closing in and shouts “Merde!” in the face of fate, it’s Fantine.

[synteis]

2.1.14-Le dernier carré

I think it says so much about Waterloo and Les misérables more generally that last chapter we finally saw Napoleon, the ostensible leader of this entire enterprise, give up the battle for lost. Now we meet those who have yet to give up, even as they are humble, unimportant people. And yet for their courage, they are, like Les amis, sublime to Hugo.

We get more barricade parallels in these little pieces of what was once la grande armée who now have almost no contact between each other and who are all dying like individuals lights. We meet one of them, led by an obscur man named Cambronne. The square of men keeps shrinking in on itself but continues to fight regardless.

The men dying in this way are called "sublime" by Hugo directly. In an incredibly visually striking scene, the English stop fighting but continue advancing in shadows, the lights of the artelerie and the sounds of reloading. Not only that but they offer to take their surrender. All Cambronne can say is "Merde." I love @fremedon 's link to Fantine here. What use have they for this pity anymore.