"Don't put your trust in revolutions. They always come round again. That's why they're called revolutions. People die, and nothing changes." - Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
A retelling of part of Les Miserables, from about 1828-1832.
Élise was born i...
The week following the ball was busy. The pamphlet that we had put together had to be given a title before it was published, and we had to find a publisher who was willing to print it. Looking at other pamphlets, we decided on a title that was descriptive while not being overly dramatic, and after some debate, the sketch of Eponine was decided on for the frontispiece illustration, as being pitiful without being too 'distasteful' to the audience we were hoping to gain.
Combeferre introduced us to Madame Huet-Perdoux, a stern looking widow of about sixty, who was nevertheless apparently sympathetic to our cause. I left the manuscript of the neatly written out interviews with her, and, for a deposit, they began setting it into type. For the illustration on the front page, she suggested we have a lithograph made, recommending to us the shop of Depelch, on the Quai Voltaire.
While Depelch himself had been dead for the last four years, his widow had kept his business going, and seemed quite willing to help us. While the sketch of an impoverished girl wasn't the usual sort of art that the shop produced, she liked it well enough that she suggested a few copies might be produced as single pages for the shop to sell. We arranged to go back the following day, when she had some time free and the lithograph could be created.
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It was a peculiar process. While I could have given the sketch over to the shop, and one of the artists - possibly the young apprentice Rosselin - could have made the lithograph, Veuve Depelch seemed quite enthusiastic to get me involved. I was presented with a smallish block of limestone, about six inches by four, the surface of which had been polished smooth. The ink which I was given to draw the sketch onto it was strange and greasy, apparently made of tallow, wax, soap, shellac, and Paris black.
When I had completed my copy of the sketch, Rosselin took the stone from me, and poured acid over it. When this had finished decomposing the lime in the stone, it was soaked in water and then ink was rolled onto it. The first proof presented to me was like magic. The stone hadn't been cut into or etched, but there was the sketch I had made, admittedly mirrored, but perfect in every line.
"You're happy with it?" asked Madam Depelch.
"Very much so - thank you!"
A couple of dozen more prints were made from the stone for the shop, and Enjolras paid her for the materials, time, and trouble, before we took the stone across the river to Madame Huet-Perdoux, to print the pamphlet. This was the resulting title page:
~
The Poor of Paris
An ACCOUNT in their OWN WORDS
Of the living conditions, situations, and labour under which they suffer.
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