Montreuil-sur-Mer, 1823.
Three horses rode down a long muddy road on a flat plain towards the walled town of Montreuil-sur-Mer. Montreuil sat on an estuary leading out to the sea. Ships sat in low tide on the mud of the estuary along the dockside of the town could be seen, and red brick factory buildings. The horse riders: Inspector Javert, flanked by two policemen. As the riders entered the walled town the poor clustered around the gates destitute and sick people clambering to get in. Inspector Javert looked round at the factory buildings, the boats in the harbor, the poor clamoring behind him, and rode on.
Heavy carts waited to be loaded with wooden crates of goods. Workmen carried the crates out of the factory as the foreman strode in through the doors, gesturing to a cart driver, who was taking a quick rest on a crate. The foreman passed men packing boxes on tables and loading boxes onto crates. He passed through a door under a first floor office. The long workspace was full of tables at which conservatively dressed women were working, making jewelry out of shellac, a black resin that looked like jet. An impressive sight: obviously a very successful business. A wooden staircase climbed one wall to a glass-windowed business office. The figure of a man within.
"At the end of the day you get nothing for nothing! Sitting flat on your bum doesn't buy any bread!" The foreman muttered
"There are children back at home – and the children have got to be fed. And you're lucky to be in a job-" the Foreman had stopped beside Fantine, a pretty young woman. As he leaned over to whisper in her ear Fantine, surprised, pricked her finger with her needle.
"And in a bed! And we're counting our blessings!" The Foreman continued his rounds, encouraging the women to speed up their work.
"At the end of the day just be glad to be working for a master who cares for the lives of the poor. He's a riddle. He's no fool... he's the answer to anyone's prayer and he paid for the brand new school, it's no wonder they made him the mayor! Bless the man who leads the way! At the end of the day!" They got on with their tasks, all glancing up at the boss in the office above. The Foreman returned to Fantine, trying to help her.
"Have you seen how the foreman is fuming today with his terrible breath and his wandering hands? It's because little Fantine won't give him his way. Take a look at his trousers; you'll see where he stands! And the boss, he never knows that the foreman is always on heat. If Fantine doesn't look out, watch how she goes, she'll be out on the street!" The Foreman rang a bell, announcing the end of the workday. The women started to take off their overalls and pack up their tools for the day.
"At the end of the day it's another day over with enough in your pocket to last for a week pay the landlord, pay the shop keep on working as long as you're able. Keep on working till you drop or it's back to the crumbs off the table well, you've got to pay your way, at the end of the day!" The women queued up to be paid by the Foreman at the door. Fantine had taken out a letter. The main factory woman snatched the letter away from her.
"And what have we here, little innocent sister?" The letter was passed surreptitiously down the line of women workers.
"Come on, Fantine, let's have all the news.
'Dear Fantine, you must send us more money,
Your children need a doctor, there's no time to lose.'"
"Give that letter to me it is none of your business." Fantine said snatching back the letter
"With a husband at home and a bit on the side! Is there anyone here who can swear before God she has nothing to fear? She has nothing to hide?" The main factory woman started to take Fantine's letter over to the Foreman. Fantine tried to get the letter back. The women scuffled. The owner entered the factory floor.
"What is this fighting all about?" He cried
"Will someone tear these two apart? This is a factory, not a circus. Now come on, ladies, settle down. I run a business of repute." The man, Jean Valjean, said suddenly Valjean saw Javert appear on the first floor balcony of his office. His world dropped away.
"Deal with this, Foreman. Be as patient as you can." He walked back to the stairs up to his office. On the factory floor
"Now someone say how this began!" The factory women all turned on Fantine.
"At the end of the day she's the one who began it! There's some kids that she's hiding in some little town. There's a man she has to pay you can guess how she picks up the extra. You can bet she's earning her keep sleeping around! And the boss wouldn't like it."
"Yes, it's true there are children and the children are my daughters, and their father abandoned us, leaving us flat. Now they live with an innkeeper man and his wife and I pay for the children, what's the matter with that?" Fantine continued to defend herself to the Foreman, as the women went on.
"At the end of the day she'll be nothing but trouble and there's trouble for all when there's trouble for one! While we're earning our daily bread she's the one with her hands in the butter, you must send the slut away! Or we're all going to end in the gutter and it's us who'll have to pay at the end of the day!" The Foreman pulled Fantine away.
"I might have known the bitch could bite! I might have known the cat had claws! I might have guessed your little secret! Ah yes, the virtuous Fantine, who keeps herself so pure and clean, you'd be the cause, I had no doubt. Of any trouble here about. You play a virgin in the light, but need no urging in the night!" Fantine slapped the man
"She's been laughing at you while she's having her men! She'll be nothing but trouble again and again! You must sack her today! Sack the girl today!"
"Right, my girl! On your way!" Below, Fantine turned and called to Valjean in his office above with a pitiful cry.
"M'sieur Mayor, help me! I have a child!" Valjean heard the cry, but had other concerns. He turned round to face Javert. Javert stared at him. On the factory floor below, the Foreman hustled Fantine out, as she struggled against him.
Javert bowed.
"I introduce myself, Inspector of Police. I've come to take the watch I'm here to keep the peace. Please know me as Javert. I'm here at your command, with honor due to each with justice in our hands, no man's beyond our reach. Let all beware."
"Welcome, sir come guard our laws I'm sure we're here in common cause." Valjean said Javert turned to look through the high window onto the men's factory floor below. The last men were leaving for the day.
"You've done the city proud, you've raised their banner high. You manufacture gems that anyone can buy your people thrive." Valjean showed some demonstration samples of their work.
"The dignity of toil to stay alive." Javert was puzzled. He was sure he recognized the man, but from where?
"It seems to me we may have met." Valjean threw him a sharp glance.
"Your face is not a face I would forget." A crash from outside in the yard followed by shouts sounded Valjean and Javert hurried out across the factory yard and down the muddy track beyond to discover - A heavily laden cart had toppled onto the cart driver. The cart driver and the Foreman were trying to lift the cart off the crushed man, but it was too heavy, and the ground was too soft. The man screamed as the cart slowly sank in the mud. Valjean, Javert and Javert's assistant all hurried to help, but they could not get a proper purchase in the spongy ground. All the time the cart was sinking further, pushing the man deeper into the mud that would soon bury him. Then Valjean saw a way. At one end the wheels of the cart had stopped sinking - the ground was harder here. He threw himself under the cart at this higher end, and braced himself to lift it from beneath.
"Get back! It may fall!" He cried
"No, Monsieur le Mayor!" Cried his Forman
"It'll kill you as well!" Roared the crowd Javert stood back and looked on. As he looked, a memory stirred within him. The man's posture beneath the cart was exactly the same as a convict he had known beneath a fallen mast. The same crouching power. The same almost-suicidal determination. Valjean saw Javert looking at him, and knew exactly what he was thinking. For a moment he hesitated. Then he heard the man's choking scream as the mud gagged his mouth. He strained every muscle, and slowly one end of the cart began to rise. As soon as it cleared the crushed and gasping man, the others pulled him clear. Valjean let the cart down again, and climbed out. As he brushed himself down he found Javert staring at him.
"Can this be true? I don't believe what I see! A man your age to be as strong as you are! A memory stirs... You make me think of a man from years ago a man who broke his parole... he disappeared." He shook his head, realizing how absurd his suspicions were.
"Forgive me, sir. I would not dare-"
"Say what you must. Don't leave it there." Valjean held Javert's gaze, challenging him to say more. He was not yet confident enough to continue. Valjean went to help the man.
"Let me help you up." The man groaned as he rose.
"Monsieur le Mayor, you come from God! You are a saint!"
"No more cart driving for you!" Was Valjean's response. Javert stared. He could not rid himself of his suspicion.
"Monsieur le Mayor." He drew himself up and gave a bow. As he walked away, he discussed something with his assistant.
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