Chapter 1Mathurin Régnier
– 16th century satiristNatoire
– Rococo painter
Hucheloup: Derivation is Le verbe huchier signifiant en ancien français appeler à haute voix, le patronyme Hucheloup a dû être un surnom pour celui qui crie au loup, qui ameute les chasseurs. Le nom est porté en Normandie (76) et dans l'Yonne.
The verb “huchier” means in Old French “to call out at the top of one's lungs”, the surname Hucheloup must have been a nickname for the one who cries wolf, who draws in the hunters. The name is carried in Normandy and in the Yonne.
It's interesting that Hugo refers to Corinth here as the haunt of “Courfeyrac and his friends” when it was first mentioned as a meeting place for the Amis in general, of whom Enjolras is the leader. And while Bossuet says they keep going there after Hucheloup's death “out of pity”, it's eminently plausible that as custom fell off with the decline in the cooking, it became an even safer meeting point. The citation of Courfeyrac both prepares the reader for a scene of good-fellowship rather than a more taut revolutionary ship and asserts Courfeyrac's primacy in the organization. R found the place, but it's a haunt of “Courfeyrac and his friends”.
Matelote (or matelotte – translated by FMA as Chowder) – Manière d'apprêter le poisson passé au roux et cuit avec un peu d'eau, du vin, sel, poivre, et farine frite. On coupe le poisson par tronçons, soit barbillon, carpe, ou anguille. On les met avec huit ou dix écrevisses sans être blanchies, dont on ôte les pattes ; on ajoute des petits oignons blanchis, cuits à moitié, des champignons coupés en gros dès ; on fait un petit roux avec de la farine et du beurre qu'on mouille avec du bouillon ; on met par-dessus le poisson qui doit être rangé dans une casserole, avec petit ognons, champignons, bouquets de fines herbes ; on y ajoute du vin rouge, sel, poivre, un morceau de beurre ; on fait cuire à grand feu, et on sert après avoir mis des croûtes frites.
Gibelotte (translated by FMA as Fricassee) – préparation qui suppose toujours qu'une chose a été dépecée. Autrefois le mot gibelotte était synonyme de capilotade, mais l'usage ne s'en est conservé qu'à l'égard du lapin et de l'oiseau de ferme.
Gibelotte de lapin en l'ancien mode – Coupez un lapin en morceaux, et une moyenne anguille en tronçons ; faites un roux et, lorsqu'il est de belle couleur, passez-y du lapin avec les tronçons d'anguille, des champignons, et des petits ognons ; quand le tout est bien revenu, mouillez avec un tiers de vin blanc et deux tiers de bouillon ; assaisonnez de sel et poivre, persil, ciboules, et thym ; ôtez les tronçons d'anguille et les ognons ; faites cuire à grand feu ; lorsque le mouillement sera réduit à un tiers, remettezz les tronçons d'anguille et les ognons ; achevez à petit feu et dégraissez la sauce.
OMG, FMA cut a line that practically proves the slash! “Les deux amis vivaient ensemble, mangaient ensemble, dormaient ensembles. Tout leur était commun, même un peu Musichetta.” The two friends lived together, ate together, slept together. They held everything in common, even Musichetta a bit. That first sentence (with the all-important “slept together” phrase) is not in FMA.
They also leave out something interesting. Joly was suffering from a bad cold according to them; according to Hugo, he “avait un fort coryza” - coryza being the technical medical term. A layman would say “Il avait une forte rhume”; a doctor – or Joly the hypochondriac med student – would say he suffered from acute rhinitis
R also isn't actually mimicking Joly – it's straight up “particularly in the mouth of a man with a stuffy nose”. Joly is definitely written with the “code id the doze” dialect, though.
So, if hypochondria is taking R again, does that mean he has suffered from numerous bouts in the past?
And how did they manage to muck up the pun? “Quel maroufle a donc dit que l'homme était un bipède sans plume ?” What idiot said man is a biped without a quill? (plume for feather and pen)
What's more, I think he's actually calling the grisette who married the banker a whore – he uses “drôlesse” when he says “What's hideous about it is that the xxx was just as pretty today as yesterday.” It's not quite “whore”, but it's far worse than “wench” - equivalent to “ho”, probably. Javert addresses Fantine that way when telling her to shut up as he's attempting to arrest Valjean. The botanical symbols are possibly ones he learned from Gros – this symbolism in art goes way back and was pushed aside in the shift to realism and various other modern styles after mid-century.Clusium
– was besieged by the Gauls in 391 BC; negotiations under Rome as a third party did not go well.
I feel sorry for the Germans, when R kinda has a point. Some of those principalities were damned small – single estates in Poland were bigger than some of the principalities; later ranches in Texas were bigger than some of the principalities. But ouch, comparing it to someone's backyard. (The German Confederation
was a loose association of the German-speaking states – think of it sort of like an early form of the EU where everyone speaks German. Some of the same issues – what's this for, customs union, I don't want to go along with you people – came up. It's not a one-to-one comparison, but it explains why it collapsed as opposed to leading to German unification.)
“Beauce peasant” because the Beauce was one of the most fertile regions of France, so little work, comparatively, would be required.
On the whole, listening to Grantaire rant is depressing as hell. I mean, really – this whole thing comes down to “a chick who wouldn't go out with me just married some guy even less attractive than I am but he's a banker, the bastard, and life sucks and people are horrible and no revolution can make up for the fact that pock-faced banker got a hot chick who wouldn't give me the time of day”. He is, however, absolutely right about Marius. I wonder how much time he has spent in Marius' company, thoroughly offending the poor boy. We know about the visit to the dance hall, but how much more often, consider I cannot imagine Marius happily staying in the same room for very long.
Enjolras is awesome. Even he calls Lesgle “Bossuet”
It may also be for purposes of cover – since Bossuet is long dead, the nickname is perhaps less likely traceable without following the messanger; any cop overhearing can't just go look up “Bossuet” and get a date of birth, address, etc. But it seems more to me to prove that Enjolras doesn't have a stick up his ass.
Also, I like Navet. His name means “turnip”, but anyone who is shouting “a bas Polignac” two years late is awesome in my book
Seriously, it's two years late – Polignac is the one who pretty much put the match to the powder in July 1830. This “revolution”, from the bits we've seen, is based on residual anger from 1830 at best but it isn't directly about Louis Philippe.
Oh god, they got here at 9 and it's 2 by the time the other boys turn up. Five hours drinking. No wonder R is in horrible shape. What is interesting is that “il avait laissé là les bouteilles et pris la chope.” He had left behind the bottles and taken the “chope”, which is defined as “1. Sorte de gobelet en forme de cône tronqué, contenant une mesure de bière d'environ un demi-litre.
A kind of beaker in the form of a truncated cone, containing a measure of beer around half a liter. In other words, wine is “white magic”; “black magic” comes from downing 500 mL of beer after at least two bottles of wine, mixing our alcohol so as to have a really awful hangover! 500 mL of beer is the abyss! (seriously, Victor, WTF?) I mean, sure, add in the brandy and absinthe on top of that and you'll probably start seeing things as much as if you had some opium handy, but why is beer the abyss? If these are really in order, too, then beer is the nightmare, brandy (eau-de-vie) is the night, and absinthe is death. The celestial butterfly drowns – in beer? I had that whole paragraph marked out as nice imagery in high school, and now I can't stop laughing about the evils of beer.
Nearly 3 francs expenditure on alcohol here. Remember, Feuilly is struggling to earn 3 francs a day. It's kind of a not bad amount for a spree, but the day began with an idea of breakfast, not a spree. We're only talking like $80 USD or something in today's terms (though in the right dive bar, that can get you a lot of booze).
And I kind of can't believe Enjolras lets them build the barricade here. But then, I've just been spending the morning with the guys who couldn't be arsed to go to the funeral.
These guys love bad puns, don't they? All of them. R and his bipeds without quills, Bossuet and the omnibus, Courfeyrac and Rousseau, and the name of their organisation in general. I just want to facepalm even as I'm giggling. (they are better at it than Jack Aubrey, though.)Margaric acid
; formic acid
. I'm going to assume Hugo is right on this one, but how in the hell did R ever pick this up?Thermopylae
. The invocation of Thermopylae presages Enjolras' (and everyone else's) death; Drogheda I believe is meant to assert his absolutism. Though Drogheda is sort of a mess and not really a great example – this is one of those times when knowing what Hugo's sources were would better explain what he means, since the act was confused among multiple reports and interpretations of those reports at the time, much less among later writers interpreting it with their own biases and for other audiences. The classics have so few sources that we're all working off the same text, as it were; by the Early Modern period you get enough text that you have multiple stories. (especially as some of the barbarity to a modern reader might be mitigated in the telling – it's easier to hear “put to death” and assume swift executions rather than “clubbed to death”, which is what happened. Which is why I'd like to know what gloss Hugo's sources put on the thing.)
Do you think Enjolras took a moment to roll his eyes when R passed out? I wouldn't blame him for it.
Will catch up with the rest a bit later.
What kind of literature and what kind of life is the same question. - Tom Stoppard