Les Misérables

As long as ignorance and misery exist in this world,

stories like this will not be told in vain.

Victor Hugo

1802. A galley slave on his way to the penal colony of Toulon.

The king's last galleys had long since rotted in the harbor waters.

But the last prisoners remained galley slaves in everyone's eyes.

They were kept occupied with hard labor, often without purpose.

They called that "penal forced labor".

Move on, quickly.

You, forward.

- Father and son are coming to inspect. - Good morning, boss.

See that one there? You wouldn't think it, but

he has already tried to escape twice.

Light it!

Watch out there, you there!

It's over for them. They were here for life.

Now they are free.

Hey, there.

Stay standing there.

Come here. Lift your foot.

You filed through your chain, scoundrel. That earns you three extra years.

Meanwhile to the pontoon, double-chained to the bench. Take him away!

This prisoner was called Jean Valjean.

He was sentenced to five years in the penal colony for stealing one loaf of bread.

Jean Valjean tried to escape two more times

and when finally the day of his release came...

Move on!

He had spent 19 years there.

Here are your belongings.

You go to the shower, the barber and the delousing station.

Here is your pay. One hundred nine francs and fifteen sous.

- Sign here. - No, that's not right.

I calculated it, it is 140 francs.

Minus 24 francs for Sundays and holidays, and 5 francs in municipal taxes.

Sign it.

Here is your passport.

You must report to the local police wherever you go.

Otherwise you will be arrested and sent back. Do you understand that?

Hey... if you are caught stealing again, you get life imprisonment.

If you threaten with a knife or stick, the punishment is death.

Remember that, unless you want to come back.

Freedom. Yes, they got it back, but their criminal record followed them everywhere,

continued to pursue them everywhere.

Finding work was almost impossible and houses and inns remained closed to them.

Not far from here, in the town of Digne, in the department of Basses-Alpes,

a carriage bearing the coat of arms of the papacy arrived at the Place de l'Évêché.

The visitor wanted to spend the night at the bishop's house.

He was told that Monseigneur Myriel had left the palace

because it was to become a hospital, and that he lived there.

The small house on the square.

- Is Bishop Myriel here? - He is visiting.

He won't be away long, you may come in.

- Thank you. - Look, there he comes.

- Where? - On the donkey.

What? That poor priest?

You're right, father, my sister and I often say that to him.

His Grace takes poor care of himself and never keeps any money.

- If only you could give him a good talking-to... - Good evening.

- Your Eminence. - Please, don't.

It is the first time I see a bishop with such a carriage.

Yes, I understand why Your Eminence is shocked.

If you allow me: he has had to trot quite a bit.

Do you think a humble priest makes too much of himself

by riding an animal of burden that our Lord used?

But I do it out of necessity, not out of vanity, I assure you.

- I do not doubt that. - Come along.

Come in, Your Eminence, come in.

- He is hungry. - But perhaps you are too.

I wanted to stop by with my people tonight, I fear...

Do not be afraid. Your escort can go to the inn, but I want to keep you here.

- I have an excellent bed for you. - May I see it?

I have difficulty sleeping.

- Here you are. Excuse me. - Thank you.

Dinner will be ready soon.

If there is enough for three, there is enough for four.

You would deny me a great honor if you refuse.

- Here is my bedroom. - Thank you.

Careful, there is a small step.

There you are. We will be neighbors.

There is fresh oat straw in it. It still smells of the harvest.

Thank you, but this journey has exhausted me. I must rest.

If you don't mind, I will go to the mayor's house.

- I am not a monk. - As you wish.

We serve the same cause, but not in the same battalion.

That same night...

Come in.

Good evening. Sorry, I was told I had to knock here.

May I have some soup and a place to sleep?

Of course, come in.

My name is Jean Valjean and I come from the galleys.

- Yes, madam, the galleys. - Come in.

I left Toulon three days ago.

Today I walked kilometers on foot. I am tired.

Give me your things. Madame Magloire will set an extra plate.

We will eat soon. We will make your bed while you eat.

- Come in. - I have money.

I am not an innkeeper. Keep your money, sir, you will need it.

- You are the village priest. - I cannot hide it.

Miss Baptistine, my sister, and Madame Magloire, my housekeeper.

Sit down, give him a chair!

Madame Magloire, get the cutlery. We are receiving a visitor.

Cutlery.

The same that would have been used for the cardinal.

How could they better show an unexpected guest

that he was not seen here as a galley slave, but as a man?

These ladies are happy to have you here.

When we receive visitors, we embellish daily life.

And we drink wine.

- May I serve the soup? - Of course.

This gentleman said he was hungry. Give him a chair.

I am not tall enough to reach the shelf.

Are you surprised by so much wealth in such a poor man?

This cutlery is from my grandmother. I am attached to it. Yes, a weakness.

In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Can you give me the soup ladle? Give your plate, sir. You must want to go to bed.

Madame Magloire... put white sheets on the alcove bed.

The next day Monseigneur Myriel began, as always, with a visit to his garden.

He had Madame Magloire take care of the vegetables and tended the flowers himself.

He always said that beauty is just as important as usefulness, perhaps even more.

Monseigneur! Monseigneur!

The basket with the cutlery! I had it last night

put away, but it is gone. Do you know where it is?

Yes, here it is.

But it is empty! And the cutlery, the large soup ladle, where are they?

I do not know.

It is that man from last night, the prisoner!

He is no longer in his room. I just brought him a glass of milk. His bed is empty.

Fortunately I had taken the candlesticks to my room.

Go on, hurry, go! Monseigneur! Look what this man had in his bag.

We called him to check his passport and search him.

This is what we found.

Since we knew you had received him last night, we arrested him.

- What did you answer to that? - Nothing.

Why did you not tell those gentlemen that I had given it to you?

You forgot your candlesticks. I gave them with the cutlery, why did you leave them behind?

Madame Magloire, bring this gentleman’s cutlery.

Go now!

Go now!

- Had you given it to him? - Of course.

- Can we let him go? - Yes. And return his belongings.

I will do what you say, Monseigneur.

Why Monseigneur? Is he not the priest?

No, it is Monseigneur the bishop. Here.

Thank you, Madame Magloire.

May I offer you a glass of wine, sergeant?

I do not like to refuse, Monseigneur.

Madame Magloire, show them the way.

- Follow me, gentlemen. - I will come shortly.

Thank you.

Wait! You are forgetting your candlesticks again.

Come, take them with you.

Jean Valjean, my brother, I do not believe in the power of money.

But this can help you to become a different man.

You no longer belong to evil, but to good.

It is your soul that I am buying.

Jean Valjean left the town as if he were fleeing.

He walked straight ahead all day and then fell exhausted onto a tree stump.

He felt anger because he did not understand the generosity

of the man he had robbed.

So this was the truth.

For twenty years in the penal colony they had taught him something else.

- What do you want? - Nothing.

- Why are you here then? - I was passing by.

- Then go on. - It is beautiful.

- My coin, sir! - Get lost.

- Give back my coin! - Get lost.

- Give it back! - I said: get lost!

Hey, listen!

Stop!

Thief. He was a thief.

He understood that he would pay for that silver coin all his life.

Report of Pierre Burloz, nickname Petit Pierre. Armed robbery.

Dangerous repeat offender. No longer had his passport stamped.

Wanted.

A few years later Montreuil-sur-Mer flourished.

A simple craftsman of mysterious origin, Monsieur Madeleine,

applied a new process in making jewelry.

Soon he bought the finest house in the region and turned it into a hospital,

while he himself lived humbly across the square.

After the hospital came a free pharmacy. Then a retirement home.

A school for boys. Another for girls.

And finally a relief fund for workers, proof of your generosity.

And your tireless commitment to the common good.

Your diligence brought prosperity to the whole region.

Your great heart drives away misery, ignorance and disease.

For these services, despite your aversion to honors,

in the name of His Majesty I appoint you as

mayor of Montreuil-sur-Mer.

He had become Mr. Mayor.

People said of him that he was a rich man who did not boast.

And this is a happy man who does not look like it.

A small chimney sweep came into town, he was given shelter and some money.

This became known, and many followed.

But one day another visitor came to Montreuil.

Good. Thank you.

Mr. Mayor.

Mr. Mayor, I wanted to introduce myself as soon as I arrived.

- I am the new police inspector. - I was waiting for you.

You will become head of the municipal police under my supervision.

- I am proud of it. - What is your name?