I Dreamed a Dream

Les Misérables and the Bible

Reciprocity rules when humans share food

Towards the middle of the night Jean Valjean woke.

Jean Valjean came from a poor peasant family of Brie.

He had not learned to read in childhood.

When he reached man's estate, be became a tree pruner..

His mother was named Jeanne Mathieu; his father was called Jean Valjean or Vlajean, probably a sobriquet, and a contraction of viola Jean, "here's Jean."

Jean Valjean was of that thoughtful but not gloomy disposition which constitutes the peculiarity of affectionate natures.

On the whole there was something decidedly sluggish and insignificant about Jean Valjean in appearance.

Jean Valjean had lost his father and mother early.

His mother died of a milk fever, not properly attended.

His father, a tree pruner, had been killed by a fall.

All that remained to Jean Valjean was a sister older than himself, a widow with seven children, boys and girls.

This sister had brought up Jean Valjean, and so long as she had a husband she lodged and fed her young brother.

The husband died.

The eldest of the seven children was eight years old.

The youngest, one.

Jean Valjean had just attained his twenty-fifth year.

He took the father's place, and, in his turn, supported the sister who had brought him up.

This was done simply as a duty and even a little churlishly on the part of Jean Valjean.

Thus his youth had been spent in rude and ill-paid toil.

Tollense battle

About 200 people died in this small Tollense valley.

Based on the forensic evidence, these people were murdered.

A battle was fought with wooden knobsticks, arrows with flint arrowheads and bronze arrowheads, spears with bronze spear tips, axes with bronze axe heads, bronze swords and knives.

This was an attack by an armed gang on a caravan.

Bronze is an alloy consisting primarily of copper, commonly with about 12% tin and often with the addition of other metals (such as aluminium, manganese, nickel or zinc) and sometimes non-metals or metalloids such as arsenic, phosphorus or silicon.

The most important element in this mixture is tin.

No tin - no bronze, no bronze - no bronze weapons.

Copper itself is too soft and mixed with other elements too brittle.

During the Bronze Age tin was more valuable than gold.

Jean Valjean had never known a "passionate woman".

Jean Valjean had not had time for romance.

Jean Valjean returned at night weary, and ate his broth without uttering a word.

His sister, Jeanne, often took the best part of his repast from his bowl while he was eating, a bit of meat, a slice of bacon, the heart of the cabbage, to give to one of her children.

As he went on eating, with his head bent over the table and almost into his soup, his long hair falling about his bowl and concealing his eyes, he had the air of perceiving nothing.

Not far from the Valjean thatched cottage, on the other side of the lane, was a farmer's cow named Marie-Claude.

The Valjean children, habitually famished, sometimes went to borrow from Marie-Claude a pint of milk, in their mother's name, which they drank behind a hedge or in some alley corner, snatching the jug from each other so hastily that the little girls spilled it on their aprons and down their necks.

If their mother had known of this marauding, she would have punished the delinquents severely.

Jean Valjean gruffly and grumblingly paid Marie-Claude for the pint of milk behind their mother's back, and the children were not punished.

In pruning season Jean Valjean earned eighteen sous a day; then he hired out as a hay maker, as laborer, as neat herd on a farm, as a drudge.

Jean Valjean did whatever he could.

His sister worked also but what could she do with seven little children?

It was a sad group enveloped in misery, slowly starving.

A very hard winter came.

Jean Valjean had no work.

The family had no bread.

No bread literally. Seven children!

One Sunday evening, Maubert Isabeau, the Baker on the Church Square, was preparing to go to bed, when he heard a violent blow on the grated front of his shop.

He arrived to see an arm pass through a hole made by a blow from a fist, through the grating and the glass.

The arm seized a loaf of bread and carried it off.

Isabeau ran out in haste; the robber fled at the full speed.

Isabeau ran after him and stopped him.

The thief flung away the loaf, but his arm was still bleeding.

It was Jean Valjean. This took place in 1795.

Jean Valjean was taken before the tribunals for theft, breaking and entering an inhabited house at night.

He had a gun which he used better than any one else on Earth, he was a bit of a poacher, and this injured his case.

There exists a legitimate prejudice against poachers.

A poacher, as a smuggler, smacks strongly of a brigand.

Nevertheless, we will remark cursorily, there is still an abyss between this race of men and the hideous assassin.

The poacher lives in the forest, the smuggler lives in the mountains or on the sea.

Cities make ferocious men as they make corrupt them.

The mountain, the sea, the forest, make savage men; they develop a fierce side without destroying the humane side.

Jean Valjean was pronounced guilty.

The terms of the Code were explicit.

There occur formidable hours in our civilization; there are moments when the penal laws decree a shipwreck.

In ominous minute society draws back and consummates the irreparable abandonment of a sentient being!

Jean Valjean was condemned to five years in the galleys.

On the 22d of April, 1796, the victory of Montenotte, won by General of the French army Napoleon Bonaparte was announced in Paris; on that same day a great gang of galley-slaves was put in chains at Bicetre.

Jean Valjean formed a part of that gang.

An old turnkey of the prison, who is now nearly eighty years old, still recalls perfectly that unfortunate wretch who was chained to the end of the fourth line, in the north angle of the courtyard.

He was seated on the ground like the others.

Jean Valjean did not seem to comprehend his position, except that it was horrible.

It is probable the vague ideas of an ignorant man concerning his plight created a dissociated state.

While the bolt of his iron collar was being riveted behind his head with heavy blows from the hammer, his tears stifled impeded his speech; he only managed to say from time to time, "I was a tree pruner at Faverolles."

Then still sobbing, he raised his right hand and lowered it gradually seven times, as though he were touching in succession seven heads of unequal heights, and from this gesture it was divined that the thing which he had done, whatever it was, he had done for the sake of clothing and nourishing seven little children.

Victor Hugo, Les Miserables

Fury said to a mouse, that he met in the house, 'Let us both go to law: I will prosecute you - Come, I'll take no denial; We must have a trial: For really this morning I've nothing to do.' Said the mouse to the cur, 'Such a trial, dear Sir, with no jury or

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