by Victor Hugo
CHAPTER V.
AT BOMBARDA'S.
The Russian mountain exhausted, they thought about dinner, andthe radiant eight, at length somewhat weary, put into the CabaretBombarda, an offshoot established in the Champs ?lys?es by that famousrestaurateur Bombarda, whose sign could be seen at that time at the Ruede Rivoli by the side of the Delorme passage.
A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end (owing tothe crowded state of the houses on Sundays they were compelled toput up with it); two windows from which the quay and river could becontemplated through the elm-trees; a magnificent autumn sun illuminingthe windows; two tables, on one of them a triumphal mountain ofbottles, mixed up with hats and bonnets, at the other four couplesjoyously seated round a mass of dishes, plates, bottles, and glasses,pitchers of beer, mingled with wine-bottles; but little order on thetable, and some amount of disorder under it.
"Ils faisaient sous la table Un bruit, un trique-trac de pieds ?pouvantable,"
as Moli?re says. Such was the state of the pastoral which began at5 A.M.; at half-past 4 P.M. the sun was declining and appetite wassatisfied.
The Champs ?lys?es, full of sunshine and crowd, were nought butlight and dust, two things of which glory is composed. The horses ofMarly, those neighing marbles, reared amid a golden cloud. Carriagescontinually passed along; a squadron of splendid guards, with thetrumpeter at their head, rode down the Neuilly avenue; the white flag,tinged with pink by the setting sun, floated above the dome of theTuileries. The Place de la Concorde, which had again become the PlaceLouis XV., was crowded with merry promenaders. Many wore a silver_fleur de lys_ hanging from a black moir? ribbon, which, in 1817, hadnot entirely disappeared from the buttonholes. Here and there, inthe midst of applauding crowds, little girls were singing a royalist_bourr?e,_ very celebrated at that time, intended to crush the hundreddays, and which had a chorus of,--
"Rendez nous notre p?re de Gand, Rendez vous notre p?re."
Heaps of suburbans, dressed in their Sunday clothes, and some wearing_fleur de lys_ like the cits, were scattered over the squares, playingat quintain or riding in roundabouts; others were drinking; some whowere printers' apprentices wore paper caps, and their laughter was theloudest. All was radiant; it was a time of undeniable peace, and ofprofound royalist security; it was a period when a private and specialreport of Angl?s, prefect of police to the King, terminated with theselines: "All things duly considered, Sire, there is nothing to fear fromthese people. They are as careless and indolent as cats, and though thelower classes in the provinces are stirring, those in Paris are not so.They are all little men, Sire, and it would take two of them to makeone of your grenadiers. There is nothing to fear from the populace ofthe capital. It is remarkable that their height has decreased duringthe last fifty years, and the people of the suburbs of Paris areshorter than they were before the Revolution. They are not dangerous,and, in a word, are good-tempered _canaille._"
Prefects of police do not believe it possible that a cat can be changedinto a lion; it is so, however, and that is the miracle of the peopleof Paris. The cat, so despised by Count Angl?s, possessed the esteemof the old Republics; it was the incarnation of liberty in their eyes,and as if to serve as a pendant to the Minerva Apteros of the Pir?us,there was on the public square of Corinth a colossal bronze statue of acat. The simple police of the restoration had too favorable an opinionof the people of Paris, and they were not such good-tempered _canaille_as they were supposed to be. The Parisian is to the French-man whatthe Athenian is to the Greek; no one sleeps sounder than he; no one ismore frankly frivolous and idle than he; no one can pretend to forgetso well as he,--but he must not be trusted; he is suited for everyspecies of nonchalance, but when there is a glory as the result, heis admirable for every sort of fury. Give him a pike and he will makeAugust 10; give him a musket, and you will have Austerlitz. He is thesupport of Napoleon, and the resource of Danton. If the country is indanger, he enlists; if liberty is imperilled, he tears up the pavement.His hair, full of wrath, is epical, his blouse assumes the folds ofa chlamys. Take care; for of the first Rue Gren?tat he comes to bewill make Caudine forks. If the hour strikes, this suburban grows, thelittle man looks in a terrible manner, his breath becomes a tempest,and from his weak chest issues a blast strong enough to uproot theAlps. It was through the Parisian suburban that the Revolution, joinedwith armies, conquered Europe. He sings, and that forms his delight;proportion his song to his nature, and you shall see! So long as he hasno burden but the Carmagnole, he will merely overthrow Louis XVI.; butmake him sing the Marseillaise, and he will deliver the world.
After writing this note on the margin of Count Angl?s' report, we willreturn to our four couples. The dinner, as we said, was drawing to aclose.