Les Misérables, page 39
CHAPTER V--AT BOMBARDA'S
The Russian mountains having been exhausted, they began to think aboutdinner; and the radiant party of eight, somewhat weary at last, becamestranded in Bombarda's public house, a branch establishment which hadbeen set up in the Champs-Élysées by that famous restaurant-keeper,Bombarda, whose sign could then be seen in the Rue de Rivoli, nearDelorme Alley.
A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end (they hadbeen obliged to put up with this accommodation in view of the Sundaycrowd); two windows whence they could survey beyond the elms, the quayand the river; a magnificent August sunlight lightly touching the panes;two tables; upon one of them a triumphant mountain of bouquets, mingledwith the hats of men and women; at the other the four couples seatedround a merry confusion of platters, dishes, glasses, and bottles; jugsof beer mingled with flasks of wine; very little order on the table,some disorder beneath it;
"They made beneath the table A noise, a clatter of the feet that was abominable,"
says Molière.
This was the state which the shepherd idyl, begun at five o'clock inthe morning, had reached at half-past four in the afternoon. The sun wassetting; their appetites were satisfied.
The Champs-Élysées, filled with sunshine and with people, were nothingbut light and dust, the two things of which glory is composed. Thehorses of Marly, those neighing marbles, were prancing in a cloudof gold. Carriages were going and coming. A squadron of magnificentbody-guards, with their clarions at their head, were descending theAvenue de Neuilly; the white flag, showing faintly rosy in the settingsun, floated over the dome of the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde,which had become the Place Louis XV. once more, was choked with happypromenaders. Many wore the silver fleur-de-lys suspended from thewhite-watered ribbon, which had not yet wholly disappeared frombutton-holes in the year 1817. Here and there choruses of little girlsthrew to the winds, amid the passers-by, who formed into circles andapplauded, the then celebrated Bourbon air, which was destined to strikethe Hundred Days with lightning, and which had for its refrain:--
"Rendez-nous notre père de Gand, Rendez-nous notre père."
"Give us back our father from Ghent, Give us back our father."
Groups of dwellers in the suburbs, in Sunday array, sometimes evendecorated with the fleur-de-lys, like the bourgeois, scattered over thelarge square and the Marigny square, were playing at rings and revolvingon the wooden horses; others were engaged in drinking; some journeymanprinters had on paper caps; their laughter was audible. Everythingwas radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound royalistsecurity; it was the epoch when a special and private report of Chiefof Police Anglès to the King, on the subject of the suburbs of Paris,terminated with these lines:--
"Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing to befeared from these people. They are as heedless and as indolent as cats.The populace is restless in the provinces; it is not in Paris. These arevery pretty men, Sire. It would take all of two of them to make oneof your grenadiers. There is nothing to be feared on the part of thepopulace of Paris the capital. It is remarkable that the stature ofthis population should have diminished in the last fifty years; andthe populace of the suburbs is still more puny than at the time of theRevolution. It is not dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble."
Prefects of the police do not deem it possible that a cat can transformitself into a lion; that does happen, however, and in that lies themiracle wrought by the populace of Paris. Moreover, the cat so despisedby Count Anglès possessed the esteem of the republics of old. In theireyes it was liberty incarnate; and as though to serve as pendant tothe Minerva Aptera of the Piræus, there stood on the public square inCorinth the colossal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of theRestoration beheld the populace of Paris in too "rose-colored" a light;it is not so much of "an amiable rabble" as it is thought. The Parisianis to the Frenchman what the Athenian was to the Greek: no one sleepsmore soundly than he, no one is more frankly frivolous and lazy thanhe, no one can better assume the air of forgetfulness; let him not betrusted nevertheless; he is ready for any sort of cool deed; but whenthere is glory at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in everysort of fury. Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; givehim a gun, you will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon's stay and Danton'sresource. Is it a question of country, he enlists; is it a question ofliberty, he tears up the pavements. Beware! his hair filled with wrath,is epic; his blouse drapes itself like the folds of a chlamys. Takecare! he will make of the first Rue Grenétat which comes to hand CaudineForks. When the hour strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow instature; this little man will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, andhis breath will become a tempest, and there will issue forth from thatslender chest enough wind to disarrange the folds of the Alps. It is,thanks to the suburban man of Paris, that the Revolution, mixed witharms, conquers Europe. He sings; it is his delight. Proportion his songto his nature, and you will see! As long as he has for refrain nothingbut _la Carmagnole_, he only overthrows Louis XVI.; make him sing the_Marseillaise_, and he will free the world.
This note jotted down on the margin of Anglès' report, we will return toour four couples. The dinner, as we have said, was drawing to its close.
