A little less than a month ago I laid out my initial argument for our sense of pathos in Hugo's perennial masterpiece, "Les Mis". I suggested that the convention of our affection as being Val Jean and his charge, Cossette, were wrongly founded. If we are indeed asked to "pity" those in miserable circumstances, then surely Hugo as a relevant artist of words would provide us with reasons to feel such pity. My thrust, then, was three-fold: Javert, Eponine, and ultimately Fantine. I consider that side of the argument "the bright side" or the optimistic one. At least, as far as one can be optimistic in a book (and time period) of pretty complete despair. This time, though, comes the negativity.
I knew even after my first reading that while Jean Val Jean was cut after the martyr figure, the heroic Victorian man who sacrifices all he has for another, and thus at least mostly deserved the pathos that Hugo seems to artificial dress him in, the little tyke, this Cossette, had none of this. I couldn't initially say why; but now I think I can. And it has everything to do with conscious ignorance.
Cossette is born into ignorance, one might argue. Her mother leaves her at a very young age with the almost Dickensian Thenardiers. They manipulate her and her mother for nothing short of a king's ransom. They fake report illnesses of the child to exact more money from the mother. This of course leads Fantine to her ultimate debasement and one could argue her death. But Cossette is never aware of any of this.
What does she know? She knows she's unhappy. She knows that the Thenardiers' children get better clothes, better toys and dolls, a better life (such as it is - though one could argue it's all squalor). She is never aware of her mother's last desperate hour to see her; she is never aware that Val Jean, whom she comes to call Father, risks everything including his life several times over to keep her safe - not only safe but comfortable and happy. After he liberates her from the Thenardiers and escapes Javert it is some time before we see the two of them again. And when we do, how impoverished are they? Well, see, that's the thing. He has set up shop in Paris and works here and there providing her with pretty nice things. She gets a childhood that most Victorian girls of impoverished backgrounds never get: walks in the park, pretty clothes. Oh and love.
The love triangle was inevitable, I suppose, as most Victorian literature functions on it in one way or another. But I wonder if that's half the problem: Marius love Cossette; Cossette loves Marius back (once she knows who he is) but they can't meet; so Marius uses Eponine to get to Cossette. And of course, Eponine loves Marius. While some love triangles function dramatically it strikes me that the most notable instances of love triangles in literature are comedic, not serious. (Think Shakespeare in Twelfth Night.) So this begs the question: why do we feel bad for Cossette again? Because she born in bad circumstances? Sweetie, get in line. Because she can't be with the one she loves? The one she saw across the park for the first time yesterday afternoon. Once again, see Shakespeare who did the distance-lover-thing first and better. Anything left? Pity her because Marius is compelled to return to the barricade and fight in the Revolution? Except he survives, once again, because Val Jean risks his life to drag him (unconscious lover that he is) to freedom.
I think it's the Eponine thing that really bugs me. Marius is making a choice: the more beautiful woman? The one who appears wealthier? The one who is out of reach? That's a pretty classic trope: want the thing you don't have (Cossette) rather than what's faithful and right in front of you (Eponine). And while it doesn't make me like Marius, at least I know his type. But Cossette. I can't pity her. Because she never knows any of this. Hell, she allows Val Jean to be cast out while her new husband thinks he is a Royalist traitor. How's THAT for thanks? And when they both figure it out: his deathbed of course.
In this way, she's the ultimate one percenter. Born to squalor and degradation. Lifted out by someone kind and benevolent. Completely unconscious of her fortune or how it came about for pretty much the entire novel. Completely unconscious that the man she loves is hurting someone close to him... for her. Just... unconscious, in so many ways. I suppose then it's fitting he is dragged away from battle literally unconscious.
It's worth noting that the characters I suggested last time as deserving our pathos: Javert, Eponine, Fantine... these are characters who are the opposite of unconscious in every way. They are AWARE. They understand in a deep and metaphoric way their place in this struggle and story. They are, to quote Dr. Bloom, "free artists of themselves". Interesting that their freedom then, in a sense, requires the ultimate sacrifice from each and every one.
