Why did Javert (Javert) die? We will investigate the truth from the original story of "Les Misérables".

Javert. To enjoy "Les Miserables" even more


Previously, in "Javert is the Other Protagonist of Remisée! Consider the lovable villain Javert."In the following section, I mentioned that Javert (Javert) is the other main character in "Les Miserables".

In this article, I would like to inquire into the original story of Remisée to find out why Javert chose to die.

*Please note that this issue contains spoilers.

Why did Javert die? We will investigate the truth from the original story of "Les Misérables".

Javert is already familiar to those who have seen the movie or musical.

Later in the story, at the barricade, he is saved by Jean Valjean.

The shock no longer caused him to unconsciously refer to Jean Valjean as "you.

Something tremendously shocking had been done to his mind.

And Javert was waiting for Jean Valjean, who escaped from the underground aqueduct carrying the dying Marijus.

In the film, after the conversation here, he immediately despairs, sings a song of anguish, and throws himself into the river.

In the original, however, he heeds Jean Valjean's wishes and first calls for a carriage to take Marijus home.

In the past, he would have grabbed Jean Valjean without question and turned him in to the police.

But he would not have it any other way, so he put the criminal Jean Valjean in the carriage, who did him a favor and sent Marijus on his way.

He also drives him to Jean Valjean's house, tells him he will be waiting for him here, and then quietly disappears.

While Jean Valjean himself had accepted being caught, this surprised him.

That stern Javert has forgiven and released sinners.

And after this, Javert, torn between good and evil, struggles to the point of death, struggling with the meaning of his existence, his life so far, and his life to come.

The description of this suffering is uncanny. It goes on and on for 20 pages in the paperback edition. This is where the truth of Javert's death lies.

I am sure that excerpting some of it here would be inadequate and fragmentary. We still need to know his 20-page struggle to understand the true reason for it.

If you think you can't read 20 pages of the original text of Les Miserables, you're wrong.

Please think you have been tricked here and give it a try first.

L'émisée is a huge work, with over 2,500 pages in the paperback edition. If you think that only 20 of those pages are used, don't you feel like you can make it work?

And this scene is in the second half of volume 5. If you read it normally, it is a long, long way from volume 1.

For those who have been stepping on the path thinking that it is too hard to read the whole book, this scene may be one that you will probably never encounter.

In that sense, it is well worth reading this scene, Javert's biggest showcase here.

If you read it, you will be surprised at how easy it is to read. I am sure that it will break your preconceived notions that the classics are difficult to read.

So, let's read on.

Les Miserables, Part V, Chapter 4: The Derailed Javert

 Javert left the Rue de la Lomaume with a slow gait.

 For the first time in his life, he hung his head, and for the first time in his life, he walked with his hands folded behind his back.

 Until this day, Javert had only ever seen Napoleon in one of his two postures, the one of decision, with his arms crossed over his chest. He had never seen Napoleon with his arms crossed behind his back, a sign of anxiety. Now a change had occurred. His whole body was dull, depressed, and marked with the color of anguish.

 He walked only on quiet streets. Still, he followed one direction. He took the most direct route toward the Seine, went along the banks of the Orme, passed Greve, and stopped at the corner of the Notre Dame Bridge, a short distance from the police station at Place du Chatelet. There, the Seine was like a square lake crossed by rushing water, bounded on one side by the Pont Notre-Dame and Pont-To-Change bridges and on the other by the banks of the Méjiserie and the Fleur.

 This part of the Seine is feared by sailors. At that time, this rapid, now taken down, was choked and boiled by the piles of the bridge's watermills, and nothing could be more dangerous. The fact that the two bridges are too close together magnifies the danger. The current becomes frighteningly fast under the bridge. The water would flow in tremendous surges, gathering and rising there, and the waves would almost pull the bridge girders through the thick ropes of water. If a person falls into it, he or she will never float up again. No matter how good a swimmer he is, he will drown.

 Javert was pensive, his arms resting on the parapet, his chin cupped in his hands, mechanically teasing his dark cheekbones with his toes.

 Some new thing, some revolution, some catastrophe had come to the back of his mind, and he had something to consider on his own. Javert was suffering terribly. For several hours, Javert was no longer simple. He was confused. His brain, which had been clear even when he was blinded, lost its clarity and became clouded in crystal. Javert felt in his heart that his duty was split in two, and he could not hide it from himself. When he had met Jean Valjean so unexpectedly at the edge of the Seine, there was something in him like a wolf that had caught its escaped prey again, and something like a dog that had found its lost master.

 He could see two roads ahead of him, both equally straight, but indeed he could see two roads. This frightened him, as he had known only one straight line his whole life. And, to his great chagrin, the two paths were incompatible. One of the two straight lines was evading the other. Which was the true path? His position was unspeakable.

 To have one's life saved by an evil man, to see his debt, to repay it, to be mindlessly equal to an ex-convict, to reward service with service, to be told to "go," and to be free to do it from our side, to sacrifice duty, that is, general duty, from a personal motive, and yet, within that personal motive, to do the same To feel a general, perhaps higher one, to betray society in order to follow his conscience, all these absurdities have been realized and piled upon him. He was totally devastated by it.

 One thing took him by surprise. Jean Valjean had forgiven him. Another thing stunned him. Javert forgave Jean Valjean.

 What position does he find himself in? He looked for himself, but could not find him.

 What should we do now? Hand over Jean Valjean, which is wrong. Leave Jean Valjean free, which is also a bad idea. In the former case, it would reduce his lineage to less than a prisoner, and in the latter case, the prisoner would rise above the law and flout it. Either way, it was disgraceful for Javert. No matter how he made up his mind, there was corruption. Fate has several precipices that rise above the impossible and on the other side of which life becomes an abyss. Javert faced one such despair.

 One of his struggles was to have to think. The intensity of all these conflicting emotions forced him to think. Thinking was not his habit, and it was very painful. Thinking always involves some internal rebellion, and he was frustrated by the rebellion in his own mind.

 Thinking about any issue, no matter what it was, outside the confines of his job, would have been futile and bone-dry for him at any time. But to think about the day that had passed was torture. Still, after such a shock, he needed to look into his conscience and convince himself that he had done the right thing.

 What he had just done made him shudder. Javert thought that he could decide on a certain release against all the rules of the police, against the entire organization of society and the judiciary, against the entire Code, and it was reasonable for him to do so, to substitute a private matter for a public matter. How outrageous is that? He shook from head to toe every time he came face to face with this inconvenient act he had committed. How could he make up his mind? There was only one thing left to do: rush back to the Rue de la Romaine and imprison Jean Valjean. Indeed, that was what he had to do. He could not do it.

 Something blocked the way. What is it? What is it? What else is there in this world but courts and executive orders and police and authority? Javert's mind was stirred.

 The Sacred Penitentiary! A condemned prisoner who cannot be pursued by law! And for Javert, it is true!

 Isn't it terrible that Javert and Jean Valjean, two people who both serve the law and are judged by the law, have come to a point where they are both above the law?

 Oh my God! Can such a tremendous thing happen and should no one be punished? Can Jean Valjean become more powerful and free than the whole of the social order, while Javert continues to eat the bread of the government?

Les Miserables" translated by Sato Saku, Shinchosha, 2002, 4th printing, p264-268.

~I'm a quarter of the way through the five-page paperback so far.

 His dreaming grew more and more frightening.

 Even during this reverie, he could have felt a little remorse about the mob that had been brought back to the Rue Feuille du Carvelle, but he did not think about it. The little blunder had been lost in the bigger blunder. Besides, the mob was obviously dead. So, in law, death calls off the pursuit.

Jean Valjean was the burden that weighed on his spirit.

 Jean Valjean was amazed at him. All the axioms that had sustained him all his life were shattered in the presence of this man. Jean Valjean's generosity toward Javert overwhelmed him. Other facts, now recalled, which had once seemed false or insane, now returned as reality. Mr. Madeleine reappeared in the shadow of Jean Valjean, and the two figures overlapped into a single, respectable figure. Javert felt his soul pierced by something terrible, a sense of admiration for the condemned man. Respect for the condemned, how is that possible? He shuddered. He couldn't shake the thought. It was futile to struggle. In the court of conscience, he couldn't help but admire the nobility of that miserable man. It was irresistible.

 A villain who does good, compassionate, kind, helpful, generous, repaying good for evil, repaying forgiveness for hatred, preferring pity to revenge, rejoicing in his own destruction rather than that of his enemies, saving those who attack him, kneeling in the heights of virtue, a mortal cause more akin to an angel than to a human being! Javert could not help but be convinced that such a monster existed. This could not go on forever.

 Of course, let me assure you, he did not surrender unreservedly to this monster who could be said to have startled him and angered him, to this loathsome angel, to this scrawny hero. As he faced Jean Valjean in the carriage, the tiger of the law howled inside him, again and again. Many times, he wanted to pounce on Jean Valjean, to grab him and eat him, to arrest him. In fact, was it ever that easy? I would pass by a police station anywhere and shout, "Look, you're a convicted violator of the residence decree!" and call the military police and say, "You are in charge of this man! and walk away, leaving the guilty man there, not caring about the rest. That man will forever be a prisoner of the law, and the law will do as it pleases. What could be more just? Javert said all these things to himself. He wanted to force, to take action, to arrest that man, but he could not do it then, because it was the same thing he was doing now. His hand went down, as if a great weight was being applied to it, with each convulsive lift of his hand toward Jean Valjean's collar. Then, deep in his heart, he heard a voice, a strange voice, cry out. 'All right, hand over the Savior. Then fetch the basin of Pontius Pilate (the Jew who crucified Christ) and wash his nails."

 Then his thoughts turned back on himself, and he saw the fallen He Javert alongside the great Jean Valjean. One condemned prisoner is a benefactor!

 Still, why did that man save my life? He had the right to be killed at the barricade. He should have exercised that right. He should have opposed Jean Valjean and asked the other rioters to force him to be shot, which they should have done.

 His greatest anguish was the loss of certainty. He felt as if his roots had been pulled out. The Code remained only a piece of wood in his hands. He had to grapple with a suspicion he had never known before. An emotional epiphany arose in his mind, quite apart from the legal certainty that had been his only measure of certainty. He was no longer content to remain with his former honesty. A series of unexpected revelations overwhelmed him. A new world appeared before his soul. A new world emerged before his soul: good deeds received and repaid, devotion, mercy, generosity, the loss of dignity through mercy, respect for the individual, the inability to definitively judge or punish, the possibility of tears in the eyes of the law, something that might be called divine justice being at odds with human justice. He was frightened and blinded by the terrible sunrise of an unknown morality in the darkness. An owl forced to have the eyes of an eagle.

 This is the truth, he thought, there are exceptions, authority can be swayed, rules can go astray in the face of certain facts, not everything fits into the framework of the Code, the unpredictable can only be obeyed, the virtue of the convict can trap the virtue of the official, and monstrous things can be gods. The virtue of the convict can trap the virtue of the official, and a monstrous thing can be a god, and fate hides such an ambush. And he himself could not avoid one surprise, he thought in despair.

 He had to see that kindness existed. The convict was kind. And he himself was kind, something he had never been before. He thought he was a coward. He thought himself cowardly. He was horrified at himself.

 For Javert, the ideal was not to be human, great, or noble. It was to be impeccable. But now he has made a mistake.

 How did it happen? How did it happen? I didn't know either. I couldn't even try to hold my head in my hands. I couldn't explain it.

 Indeed, he intended to return Jean Valjean to the hands of the law at any moment. Jean Valjean was a prisoner of the law, and Javert was a slave of the law. While he was holding Jean Valjean, he had not the slightest intention of letting him go. His hand opened unconsciously, so to speak, and he let him go.

 All kinds of mysterious new facts began to appear before his eyes. He asked himself all kinds of questions, but was frightened by his answers. He asked himself. 'What in the world did that condemned man whom I pursued to the point of persecution, that desperate man, who, based on me under his feet, was in a position to take revenge, out of spite and out of self-preservation, do by saving my life, by forgiving me? His duty. No, something more than duty. What did I also do by forgiving him? My duty. No, something more than duty. So is there something more than duty?" Here he was frightened. Here he was frightened, his scales had shifted. One side of the plate fell into the abyss, while the other went up to the heavens. And Javert was terrified by the one that went up and the one that fell down. He was far from being what one might call a Voltairean, a philosopher, or an infidel; on the contrary, he respected the established Catholic Church out of instinct, but only as a dignified fragment of society as a whole; order was his doctrine, and he was content with that. When he reached adulthood and became an official, he kept almost all of his words within the police force, and I say this not ironically, but seriously, but as I have already said, he was a spy, just as a man is a priest. He had Mr. Goske as his superior, and until today, he hardly ever thought about God, who is now his only superior.

 He was upset because he unexpectedly felt this new Secretary of God.

 I was perplexed by this unexpected presence. I did not know how to treat this superior. I was not unaware that a subordinate should always bend over backwards and not disobey, criticize, or contradict, and that there was nothing I could do about a superior who was too lawless but to submit my resignation. But how on earth could one submit a letter of resignation to God?

Les Miserables" translated by Saku Sato, Shinchosha, 2002, 4th printing, p268-274

We are just halfway here! 10 pages.

 Be that as it may, the one thing that always drew him back there and controlled everything about him was that he had committed a horrendous offense. He turned a blind eye to repeat offenders who violated the residential designation order. He let the penitentiary off the hook. He took a man who belonged to the law away from the law. That is what he had done. He didn't know himself anymore. I wasn't sure of myself. I didn't know why I had done such a thing, and I just felt dizzy. Until now, I had lived by blind beliefs that produced a dark honesty. That belief had escaped me, and I was on the verge of losing my honesty. Everything he had believed in was about to disappear. The truth, which he did not want, was ruthlessly haunting him. He had to become a different person from now on. He suffered the strange pangs of conscience that suddenly operated on his cataracts. He began to see things he did not want to see. He felt himself to be depressed, useless, cut off from his past life, exonerated, obliterated. Authority died in him. There was no longer any reason to exist. A frightening position! To be shaken up.

 It is made of granite, yet it is suspect! A statue of punishment, cast entirely in the mold of the law, yet suddenly, beneath its bronze chest, we find something absurd, something disobedient, something resembling a heart! It rewards good for good. You have been telling yourself until today that such good is evil! You are a watchdog, licking the hands of bandits! You, who are the ice, melt! What is a nail-picker becomes a hand! Suddenly I feel my fingers opening! You let go, it's a terrible thing! A man like a bullet, flinching, losing his way!

 We are forced to realize that what is without error is not necessarily without fault. What is without error is not necessarily without fault, doctrines can be in error, the law does not say it all, society is not perfect, authority can be upset, the immovable can be shaken, judges are human, the law can be wrong, courts can be mistaken! The judges are human, the law can go wrong, the court can be mistaken! Even the infinite blue glass of the great sky shows cracks!

 What was happening in Javert was a linear fangpoo of conscience, a derailment of the soul, a shattering of honesty, an irresistible, straight-line rush that crashed into God and shattered. Indeed, this is extraordinary. How could the fireman of order, the engineer of authority, riding a blind iron horse on a track, fall off his horse at the stroke of light? How could the unmovable, the linear, the precise, the geometric, the passive, the perfect, flex? That even locomotives have a way to Damascus (translation St. Paul converted on his way to Damascus)!

 The God who is always inside man, who becomes the true conscience and resists the false conscience, who prevents the spark from going out, who commands the ray to remember the sun, who commands the soul to distinguish the true absolute from the false absolute with which it is in contact, who commands humanity to never perish, human emotion to never be lost, this glorious phenomenon, perhaps the most beautiful of all the miracles inside man, Javert almost understood it? Was Javert on the verge of understanding this glorious phenomenon, perhaps the most beautiful of all the internal miracles of man? Was Javert on the verge of understanding it? Was he on the verge of understanding it? Obviously not. But under the pressure of this inexplicable but undeniable thing, he felt his head somewhat open.

 He was not so much changed by this miracle as a victim of it. He endured it, exasperated. In all this, he saw only the infinite difficulty of living. It seemed that from now on, forever, he would have trouble breathing. He was not accustomed to having the unknown above his head.

 What he had received above his head so far was, in his eyes, a clear, simple, and transparent surface. There was nothing unknown, nothing indefinite. There was nothing limited, unorganized, unconnected, uncomplicated, precise, limitless, unrestricted, or closed. Everything was anticipated. Authority was flat, and in it there was no downfall of any kind, no dizziness of any kind in its presence. Javert had only seen the unknown below. Irregular things, unexpected things, messy entrances to chaos, precipices that might slip and fall, were the things of the lower regions, of the rebels, the wicked, and the miserable. Now Javert fell on his back, suddenly threatened by an unexpected apparition, that is, the abyss above. What a surprise! He was unprotected from top to bottom! I was completely taken aback! What could I turn to? My faith was shattered!

 What a surprise! How dare a flaw in society's armor be found by an open-minded, miserable human being! What a thing! An honest servant of the law is suddenly caught between two crimes, the crime of letting a man go and the crime of arresting him! Is not every order that an official is given by the state also a certainty? Is there a dead end in duty? What in the world is going on? Is all this reality? Can it be true that a former thief, huddled under punishment, has risen up, and in the end, he is right? Can you believe such a thing? Is it possible that the law, too, must back down in the face of a crime of a different form, muttering excuses?

 Yes, that's right! Javert saw it! He had touched it! Not only could he not deny it, he was part of it. This is reality. Cursed be the fact of reality to be so deformed.

 As long as facts are in keeping with their essence, they can only be proof of the law. Facts are God's handiwork. Then, does disorder fall from heaven?

Thus - in his increasing anguish, in the hallucinations of his elevated vision, all that restrained and corrected his impressions disappeared, and society, mankind, and the universe henceforth became, in his eyes, nothing but simple and ugly outlines - and thus - the criminal laws, judgments, lawful powers, precedents of higher courts, judicial officers, government, detention and punishment, public thought, the infallibility of law, the principles of authority, and all the doctrines upon which political and personal security are based... based power, precedents of higher courts, judicial officers, government, detention and punishment, public thought, infallibility of law, principles of authority, all the doctrines on which political and personal security is based, sovereignty, justice, logic based on codes, social absolutes, public truths, etc., all became a wreck, a heap of garbage, chaos. And Javert himself, the guardian of order, the integrity of the police, the watchdog of society, was conquered and overthrown, and above all these ruins stood a man with a green hat on his head and a halo on his forehead, the confusion he had fallen into, and a terrible vision he had in his soul. It was a terrifying vision in his soul.

 Is this what you can endure? I could not endure it.

 The worst situation I had ever been in. There were only two ways out of it. One was to go to Jean Valjean and send that convict back to prison. The other was to go to ......

 Javert left the parapet, looked up this time, and with steady steps headed for the police station at the corner of Place du Chatelet, recognizable by its corner light.

 When I got there, I spotted one of the officers through the glass door and went inside. Police people can tell who their fellow officers are just by the way they open the door. Javert introduced himself, showed the officer his identification, and sat down in front of the desk where a candle was burning. On the desk was a pen, a lead inkwell, and a sheet of paper, which he used to write down any irregularities or to report for night patrols.

Les Miserables" translated by Saku Sato, Shinchosha, 2002, 4th printing, p. 274-279

Here are 15 pages. Five more pages to go! Almost there!

 These desks, usually with straw chairs, were standardized, meaning that they could be found at any police station, and they were always full of sawdust.Japanese boxwoodJapanese boxwoodThe desk was equipped with a table plate of 4.5 x 4.5 cm and a ball box filled with red solid wax, and was considered a low-class item among the government ceremonies. It was from this desk that the literature of the nation began.

 Javert took a pen and a sheet of paper and began to write. It is as follows.

  Professional Opinion

I. The Commissioner-General should read it.

Two, the detainee returning from the preliminary hearing, took off his shoes during the physical examination,superior to (a professional, etc. in ability or achievement)barefootThey stand on the paving stones in Some of them cough when they get back to their cells. This increases the expense of the infirmary.

(iii) Tailgating should be done by a relay of officers standing at a distance, but in critical cases, at least two officers should keep an eye on each other so that if one should for some reason fail to perform his/her duties, the other can monitor and deputize.

Fourth, there is a special provision in Madronet Prison that prohibits prisoners from having chairs, even if they pay the price, but I am not convinced.

V. The liquor cell in Madronet Jail has only two grates, and the woman in charge of the cell can hold the detainee's hand.

Six, a detainee who is in charge of calling other detainees to the visiting place, called a caller, takes two francs as payment for clearly calling the detainee by name, which is stealing.

VII. Prisoners in textile mills receive ten sous less in wages for every thread removed, but this is an overreach by the contractor, since the quality of the woven fabric does not deteriorate because of this.

VIII. It is not advisable for the visitors of the Forbes Prison to pass through the children's courtyard to get to the Sainte-Marie-Régiptienne Visitor's Center.

IX. It is certain that the military police are heard by others gossiping daily in the courtyard of the Metropolitan Police Department about the questioning of criminal defendants by the judicial officers. It is a serious disturbance of order for the sacred military police to reveal what they have heard in the preliminary hearing court.

Ten, Madame Henri is an honest woman, and her cell is very clean, but it is not good for a woman to be in charge of the population of a cell. This is unbecoming of a prison attached to the court of a great civilized country.

 Javert wrote these few lines in the most calm and precise handwriting, without missing a single punctuation mark, with a firm pen stroke on the paper. He signed his name below the last line.

first class police inspector

 At the Police Station in Place de la Chatelet
  June 7, 1832, at about 1:00 a.m.

Javert dried fresh ink on the paper, folded it like a letter, sealed it, wrote "Administrative memorandum" on the back, put it on his desk, and left the police station. The glass sliding door closed behind him.

 He again plunged diagonally across the Place de la Chatelet and out onto the riverbank, returning with automatic precision to the point from which he had left fifteen minutes before. There he rested his elbows on the same paving stones of the parapet and assumed the same posture. It was as if he had never moved there before.

 It was pitch black. It was past midnight, like a graveyard. A ceiling of clouds hid the stars. The sky hung eerily overhead.island in the middle of a country (i.e. Japan)steward in charge of the affairs of nobles of the third rank and higher (from the middle ages onward)The houses in the city were deserted, not a single person passed by, and the streets and riverbanks were deserted as far as the eye could see. Notre Dame and the courthouse tower looked like outlines in the night. A single streetlight cast a reddish glow on the riverbank. The shadows of several bridges were blurred by fog and overlapped each other. The rain had increased the water level of the river.

 Javert was at his elbow, as the reader will remember, directly above the rapids of the Seine, where a terrifying whirlpool unraveled and reconnected like an endless spiral at his feet.

 Javert turned his head and peeked in. It was pitch black. He could see nothing. He could hear the sound of bubbling, but he could not see the river. Sometimes, in the dizzying depths, a dim light appeared and swirled vaguely. Water has the power to transform itself into a serpent, even in the midst of a truly dark night, by shedding light from an unidentifiable source. As the light faded, nothing could be seen. It was as if infinity was opening its mouth there. Under my feet was not water, but an abyss. I thought I could faintly see a sheer cliff,hazehazeIt was like a cliff to infinity.

 I could see nothing, but I could feel the hostile coldness of the water and the stale smell of wet stone. A wild breath rose from this abyss. The river, whose rising waters were imagined rather than seen, the somber whisper of the waves, the ghastly enormity of the bridge arches, the imagining of crashing into this dark bottomlessness, all of this darkness was terrifying.

 Javert stood still for a while, staring at this dark entrance. He stared at it as if he were staring at something invisible. The water was churning. Suddenly, he took off his hat and placed it on the shore. A moment later, a tall, black figure, one that a slow passerby might have mistaken for a ghost from a distance, appeared standing on the parapet, looked out over the Seine, stood upright again, and fell back into the darkness. There was a muffled sound of water, but only the darkness knew the secret of the convulsions of this black shadow that had disappeared into the water.

Les Miserables" translated by Saku Sato, Shinchosha, 2002, 4th printing, p280-284

The truth about Javert's death

It was a long sentence, but how was everyone?

Yes, it is long, but didn't you feel that you could read it surprisingly easily?

Although "Les Misérables" has a common image of being a large and difficult work, in fact, there are no troublesome phrases, the scenes and psychological descriptions are clear, and the story is easy to read with a sense of realism.

The good thing about Remisé is that it has an easy-to-navigate sense of rhythm, or rather, it can be read at a fast pace.

Now, I am sure that by reading this lengthy account of his psychological struggles, you have somewhat grasped the full picture of why Javert took his own life.

You may have noticed that the causes of those deaths are more complex and chaotic than you thought.

We will also discover why he has been so obsessively pursuing Jean Valjean and what kind of view of life he has been living.

At the beginning of the story, Jean Valjean was reborn with a new life when he met Bishop Miriel.

But although Javert met an overwhelming man, Jean Valjean, he could not start a new life.

This may have been due to the fact that Javert had already committed tremendous evil, that he had made poor people suffer in the name of the law, and that he had seen too many miserable, evil people in his work as a police officer.

Perhaps he was no longer carrying too much weight to start over.

However, at the very end, he submits a written proposal to improve the treatment of prisoners in the jail. This would have been unthinkable for Javert. This petition seemed to me to be of tremendous significance.

Javelle, where everything that has been and will be in his life has collapsed.

The scene in which he throws himself into the abyss is, in my opinion, one of the most famous scenes in Remisé.

I have read the Javert scene at length, and the original story basically goes like this. We delve into each person's heart and soul to the very last detail. Therefore, it is inevitable that the novel becomes long.

But as you may have guessed after reading this far, each sentence is actually not that difficult to understand. In fact, I think you may have enjoyed reading them.

You may be hesitant to try the original work, but you are not the first to try it!

It's okay! You can read it! Don't be afraid and take this opportunity to read it.

I can assure you that you will love Remise even more.

The above is the answer to the question, "Why did Javert die? The original story of "Les Misérables" will help us find out the truth. The above is "Why did Javert die?

*Addition on July 28, 2021

The following links will help you enjoy "Les Miserables" even more. Please take a look.

Related Articles