When Fantine finally made her way to her native area and hometown of Montreuil, no one remembered her. Yet the door of Monsieur Madeleine’s factory was like the face of a friend to her, for she was offered work almost as quickly as she walked through it. The type of work was entirely foreign to Fantine, so she was not very skilled at it. Therefore, she earned very little each day but at least enough for her to live. Her problem was solved.
The fact that Fantine was now earning a living brought her great joy. She saw the opportunity to make an honest living through her own labor as a blessing from heaven. Her entire attitude about life changed and became more hopeful. She began to take pride in her appearance once again and found some pleasure surveying herself in a new mirror she purchased. She was still very young and had beautiful hair and lovely white teeth, which gave her an engaging smile.
Fantine was able to forget many of her recent difficulties—yet she constantly thought of Cosette. As she did so, however, she was almost happy, for she saw the possibility of their being together again soon as being bright. She leased a small room and was able to furnish it on credit based on the fact that she was gainfully employed. Yet buying on credit showed a lingering trace of her tendency to plan poorly for her future.
Since she was not married, she was very careful never to mention her little girl. Yet she continued to write the Thénardiers in order to inquire about Cosette, being forced to rely on a public letter writer since she knew only how to write her own name. The fact that she sent letters so often did not go unnoticed by the other women in Fantine’s work area. This and other factors caused rumors to be spread about her, and oftentimes a coworker could be heard to say, “She has some unusual ways about her.”
Because of this, and due to the other women’s insatiable hunger for gossip, Fantine was watched. In addition, many of them obviously were jealous of her golden hair and her beautiful teeth. Many times the women would notice her wiping away a tear caused by Fantine’s thoughts of her dear Cosette.
Her public writer was a good old man, but one who could not fill his stomach with red wine without emptying his mouth of secrets. As a result, it was discovered that Fantine had a child and that her letters were addressed to a Monsieur Thénardier—an innkeeper in Montfermeil. This led people to whisper to each other, “She must be that sort of a woman.”
One of the gossipmongers even made a trip to Montfermeil, talked with the Thénardiers, and said upon returning, “For just thirty-five francs, I have learned all about it. And I have seen Fantine’s child.”
At this point, Fantine had been at the factory for more than a year. One morning the foreman of her workroom, who had heard the gossip, handed her fifty francs from Mayor Madeleine. He told her she was no longer employed there, and that the mayor also wanted her to leave the neighborhood.
The timing could not have been worse for Fantine, for this happened to be the very month that the Thénardiers had once again raised the monthly fee for caring for Cosette to fifteen francs. Fantine was overwhelmed. She could not leave the neighborhood, because she owed for her rent and her furniture, and fifty francs were insufficient to cover those debts.
In response to being fired, Fantine could only stammer out a few words, begging the foreman to reconsider. However, he retorted by ordering her to leave the shop immediately and added that she was only a moderately good worker anyway. Filled with shame, but even more overcome with despair, she left the factory and returned to her humble room.
Some people advised Fantine to see Mayor Madeleine about her situation, but she was afraid to confront him. Besides, she knew him to be a just and good man and saw the fifty francs as evidence of that. She decided to submit to his decision.
She began searching for work as a servant in the neighborhood, going literally from house to house. Yet no one would hire her, and she could not leave town because the second-hand furniture dealer she still owed threatened her by saying, “If you leave, I will have you arrested as a thief.” And her landlord, demanding his back rent, said to her, “You are young and pretty. You can pay!”
Fantine then divided her fifty francs between her landlord and the furniture dealer. She also returned three-quarters of the furniture, keeping only her bed. She now found herself without work, with nothing but a bed, and still fifty francs in debt.
Finally, she found work sewing shirts for soldiers at the nearby garrison. She earned only twelve sous per day, while her daughter cost her ten of that. So it was at this point Fantine began paying the Thénardiers on an irregular basis.
Worse than learning to live on little is learning to live on nothing, which is equal to living in misery. This seemed to be Fantine’s fate. She learned how to live the entire winter without a fire for heat and learned to use her petticoat for a blanket and her blanket for a petticoat. By eating her meals by moving from one window to the other, she also learned to use her candle sparingly. She acquired quite a talent for squeezing as much as possible out of a sou and thereby regained a little courage and hope.
Marguerite, a saintly old spinster who lived in her building, taught her many of the lessons of how to best live a life of poverty. Marguerite had a strong belief in God, living a life of true devotion to Him, and was charitable to all people—whether they were poor or rich. Among the poor of that day were many such virtuous people. No doubt many of them will find a place in the world above, for God will bestow another sunrise on them.
Excessive work fatigued Fantine and she developed a dry cough, which became worse over time. Oftentimes she would say to her new friend, Marguerite, “Just feel how hot my hands are!”
Yet in spite of her excessive work, Fantine earned too little, so her debts continued to increase. The Thénardiers, who were not being paid promptly, constantly sent her postage-due letters, whose contents drove her to further despair. One letter reported that Cosette was entirely naked in the cold winter weather and that she needed a woolen dress. They demanded she send at least ten francs to pay for one. Fantine carried the letter around all day, reading it over and over, and worrying about her sweet Cosette.
That evening she walked to the barbershop at the corner of the street, and upon seeing Fantine, the barber exclaimed, “What beautiful hair!”
“How much will you give me for it?” she asked.
“Ten francs.”
“Then cut it off,” Fantine said reluctantly. Her lovely golden hair fell to the floor. She immediately purchased a wool-knitted dress and sent it to the Thénardiers, which made them furious. Of course, it was only the money they wanted, so they gave the dress to their daughter, Éponine. The poor Lark continued to shiver.
My child is no longer cold. I have clothed her with my hair, Fantine thought to herself. She began wearing a small round cap to conceal her shorn head but remained a lovely young woman. As her plight became darker and darker, the more radiant was the little angel in the depths of her heart. She would say, “When I get rich, I will have my Cosette with me again,” and she would laugh. This would often aggravate her cough, which was becoming worse, and she was beginning to experience night sweats as well.
Fantine had long shared in the universal admiration of Mayor Madeleine, but she had now come to hate him. She had convinced herself it was he who had turned her away and was the cause of her misfortunes. She sank lower and lower, even taking a lover, who beat her and then left her as quickly as he had shared her bed. Fantine had a sense of rage in her heart and actually had taken to the man in a fit of disgust.
One day she received a letter from the Thénardiers that said, “Cosette has a sickness that has been making its rounds in our area, and she needs some expensive medicine. This is ruining us and we no longer can pay for it. If you don’t send us forty francs before the end of this week, your little one will be dead.”
Fantine burst into a scornful laugh and said to Marguerite, “Oh, they’re good! These stupid peasants! Where do they expect me to get forty francs? That’s equal to two Napoléons!”
Later, as she walked across the town square, she saw a crowd gathering around a man standing atop his carriage. He was a quack dentist, who was offering full sets of teeth, opiates, and elixirs for sale. Fantine mingled with the group and began to laugh with the others at the somewhat humorous presentation. The quack “tooth-puller” suddenly noticed her and exclaimed, “You have beautiful teeth, young lady. I’ll give you a gold Napoléon for each of your two front teeth!”
“How horrible!” Fantine retorted.
“Two Napoléons!” grumbled a toothless old woman. “She’s a lucky girl, indeed!”
At this Fantine fled, covering her ears as she ran. Yet the salesman continued to shout at her, “Think about it, my beauty! Two Napoléons! If you change your mind, you can find me at the Inn of the Tillac d’Argent.”
The next morning, Marguerite entered Fantine’s room before dawn, for they worked together in order to use one candle instead of two. She found Fantine seated on her bed, pale and frozen. She had been sitting there all night and had allowed her candle to burn down completely. Marguerite was upset over this tremendous wastefulness and scolded, “You’ve let the candle burn out! Has something happened?”
She looked at Fantine and her closely cropped hair, and it seemed to Marguerite that Fantine had grown ten years older since the previous day. She then asked, “Fantine, what’s the matter with you?”
“Nothing,” replied Fantine, calmly. “In fact, quite the contrary. Now my dear child will not die of that awful illness. I am content.” She then pointed to two gold Napoléons glittering on the table.
“Oh Lord!” cried Marguerite. “That’s a fortune! Where did you get them?”
Fantine simply smiled, as the fading candle illuminated her face. Her smile was sickening, for the corners of her mouth were stained with blood. Dark holes were now where her beautiful teeth once had been. That very day she sent forty francs to Montfermeil. Yet it had all been a ruse perpetrated by the Thénardiers to extort more money from her, for Cosette was not sick.
Fantine’s downward spiral continued in earnest. What she was paid for sewing shirts was reduced to nine sous per day—seventeen hours of work each day for only nine sous! And her creditors became more pitiless than ever, especially the Thénardiers. They wrote her that they had been much too patient and generous, and immediately demanded 100 francs, or they would put Cosette out of their house and into the cold streets.
How can I raise that kind of money? Fantine thought. Unable to see any way out of her hopeless demise, she reasoned, I will sell what is left. So this unfortunate creature became a woman of the night.
Fantine’s history was that of society purchasing a slave—purchased from hunger, cold, loneliness, and destitution. It was a deplorable and heart-wrenching bargain. Misery makes an offer—society accepts.
People of that day claimed that the sacred law of Jesus Christ governed their civilization, but it certainly did not permeate it. And they claimed that slavery had disappeared from European society altogether, but this was untrue. It still existed—its name was prostitution.
There was now nothing left of what was formerly known as Fantine. She had turned to stone, having lost everything. She had resigned herself to whatever her fate may be, and became indifferent—as death resembles sleep. Her thoughts became, Let the clouds fall on me, and the oceans sweep across me. What difference does it make?
Fantine had reached the depths of despair but in error believed she was beyond all hope, for no one is beyond the reach of the One who can see beyond the darkest shadow. His name is God.