Editing Volume 1/Book 3/Chapter 5

Les Mis&eacute;rables, Volume 1: Fantine, Book Third: In the Year 1817, Chapter 5: At Bombarda's<br />
(Tome 1: Fantine, Livre troisi&egrave;me: En l'ann&eacute;e 1817, Chapitre 5: Chez Bombarda)

==General notes on this chapter==

==French text==

Les montagnes russes &eacute;puis&eacute;es, on avait song&eacute; au d&icirc;ner; et le radieux
huitain, enfin un peu las, s'&eacute;tait &eacute;chou&eacute; au cabaret Bombarda,
succursale qu'avait &eacute;tablie aux Champs-&Eacute;lys&eacute;es ce fameux restaurateur
Bombarda, dont on voyait alors l'enseigne rue de Rivoli &agrave; c&ocirc;t&eacute; du
passage Delorme.

Une chambre grande, mais laide, avec alc&ocirc;ve et lit au fond (vu la
pl&eacute;nitude du cabaret le dimanche, il avait fallu accepter ce g&icirc;te); deux
fen&ecirc;tres d'o&ugrave; l'on pouvait contempler, &agrave; travers les ormes, le quai et
la rivi&egrave;re; un magnifique rayon d'ao&ucirc;t effleurant les fen&ecirc;tres; deux
tables; sur l'une une triomphante montagne de bouquets m&ecirc;l&eacute;s &agrave; des
chapeaux d'hommes et de femmes; &agrave; l'autre les quatre couples attabl&eacute;s
autour d'un joyeux encombrement de plats, d'assiettes, de verres et de
bouteilles; des cruchons de bi&egrave;re m&ecirc;l&eacute;s &agrave; des flacons de vin; peu
d'ordre sur la table, quelque d&eacute;sordre dessous;

::''Ils faisaient sous la table''
::''Un bruit, un trique-trac de pieds &eacute;pouvantable''

dit Moli&egrave;re.

Voil&agrave; o&ugrave; en &eacute;tait vers quatre heures et demie du soir la bergerade
commenc&eacute;e &agrave; cinq heures du matin. Le soleil d&eacute;clinait, l'app&eacute;tit
s'&eacute;teignait.

Les Champs-&Eacute;lys&eacute;es, pleins de soleil et de foule, n'&eacute;taient que lumi&egrave;re
et poussi&egrave;re, deux choses dont se compose la gloire. Les chevaux de
Marly, ces marbres hennissants, se cabraient dans un nuage d'or. Les
carrosses allaient et venaient. Un escadron de magnifiques gardes du
corps, clairon en t&ecirc;te, descendait l'avenue de Neuilly; le drapeau
blanc, vaguement rose au soleil couchant, flottait sur le d&ocirc;me des
Tuileries. La place de la Concorde, redevenue alors place Louis XV,
regorgeait de promeneurs contents. Beaucoup portaient la fleur de lys
d'argent suspendue au ruban blanc moir&eacute; qui, en 1817, n'avait pas encore
tout &agrave; fait disparu des boutonni&egrave;res. &Ccedil;&agrave; et l&agrave; au milieu des passants
faisant cercle et applaudissant, des rondes de petites filles jetaient
au vent une bourr&eacute;e bourbonienne alors c&eacute;l&egrave;bre, destin&eacute;e &agrave; foudroyer les
Cent-Jours, et qui avait pour ritournelle:

::''Rendez-nous notre p&egrave;re de Gand,''
::''Rendez-nous notre p&egrave;re.''

Des tas de faubouriens endimanch&eacute;s, parfois m&ecirc;me fleurdelys&eacute;s comme les
bourgeois, &eacute;pars dans le grand carr&eacute; et dans le carr&eacute; Marigny, jouaient
aux bagues et tournaient sur les chevaux de bois; d'autres buvaient;
quelques-uns, apprentis imprimeurs, avaient des bonnets de papier; on
entendait leurs rires. Tout &eacute;tait radieux. C'&eacute;tait un temps de paix
incontestable et de profonde s&eacute;curit&eacute; royaliste; c'&eacute;tait l'&eacute;poque o&ugrave; un
rapport intime et sp&eacute;cial du pr&eacute;fet de police Angl&egrave;s au roi sur les
faubourgs de Paris se terminait par ces lignes: &laquo;Tout bien consid&eacute;r&eacute;,
sire, il n'y a rien &agrave; craindre de ces gens-l&agrave;. Ils sont insouciants et
indolents comme des chats. Le bas peuple des provinces est remuant,
celui de Paris ne l'est pas. Ce sont tous petits hommes. Sire, il en
faudrait deux bout &agrave; bout pour faire un de vos grenadiers. Il n'y a
point de crainte du c&ocirc;t&eacute; de la populace de la capitale. Il est
remarquable que la taille a encore d&eacute;cru dans cette population depuis
cinquante ans; et le peuple des faubourgs de Paris est plus petit
qu'avant la r&eacute;volution. Il n'est point dangereux. En somme, c'est de la
canaille bonne.&raquo;

Qu'un chat puisse se changer en lion, les pr&eacute;fets de police ne le
croient pas possible; cela est pourtant, et c'est l&agrave; le miracle du
peuple de Paris. Le chat d'ailleurs, si m&eacute;pris&eacute; du comte Angl&egrave;s, avait
l'estime des r&eacute;publiques antiques; il incarnait &agrave; leurs yeux la libert&eacute;,
et, comme pour servir de pendant &agrave; la Minerve apt&egrave;re du Pir&eacute;e, il y
avait sur la place publique de Corinthe le colosse de bronze d'un chat.
La police na&iuml;ve de la restauration voyait trop &laquo;en beau&raquo; le peuple de
Paris. Ce n'est point, autant qu'on le croit, de la &laquo;canaille bonne&raquo;. Le
Parisien est au Fran&ccedil;ais ce que l'Ath&eacute;nien &eacute;tait au Grec; personne ne
dort mieux que lui, personne n'est plus franchement frivole et paresseux
que lui, personne mieux que lui n'a l'air d'oublier; qu'on ne s'y fie
pas pourtant; il est propre &agrave; toute sorte de nonchalance, mais, quand il
y a de la gloire au bout, il est admirable &agrave; toute esp&egrave;ce de furie.
Donnez-lui une pique, il fera le 10 ao&ucirc;t; donnez-lui un fusil, vous
aurez Austerlitz. Il est le point d'appui de Napol&eacute;on et la ressource de
Danton. S'agit-il de la patrie? il s'enr&ocirc;le; s'agit-il de la libert&eacute;? il
d&eacute;pave. Gare! ses cheveux pleins de col&egrave;re sont &eacute;piques; sa blouse se
drape en chlamyde. Prenez garde. De la premi&egrave;re rue Greneta venue, il
fera des fourches caudines. Si l'heure sonne, ce faubourien va grandir,
ce petit homme va se lever, et il regardera d'une fa&ccedil;on terrible, et son
souffle deviendra temp&ecirc;te, et il sortira de cette pauvre poitrine gr&ecirc;le
assez de vent pour d&eacute;ranger les plis des Alpes. C'est gr&acirc;ce au
faubourien de Paris que la r&eacute;volution, m&ecirc;l&eacute;e aux arm&eacute;es, conquiert
l'Europe. Il chante, c'est sa joie. Proportionnez sa chanson &agrave; sa
nature, et vous verrez! Tant qu'il n'a pour refrain que la Carmagnole,
il ne renverse que Louis XVI; faites-lui chanter la Marseillaise, il
d&eacute;livrera le monde.

Cette note &eacute;crite en marge du rapport Angl&egrave;s, nous revenons &agrave; nos quatre
couples. Le d&icirc;ner, comme nous l'avons dit, s'achevait.

==English text==

The Russian mountains having been exhausted, they began to think about
dinner; and the radiant party of eight, somewhat weary at last, became
stranded in Bombarda's public house, a branch establishment which had been
set up in the Champs-Elysees by that famous restaurant-keeper, Bombarda,
whose sign could then be seen in the Rue de Rivoli, near Delorme Alley.

A large but ugly room, with an alcove and a bed at the end (they had been
obliged to put up with this accommodation in view of the Sunday crowd);
two windows whence they could survey beyond the elms, the quay and the
river; a magnificent August sunlight lightly touching the panes; two
tables; upon one of them a triumphant mountain of bouquets, mingled with
the hats of men and women; at the other the four couples seated round a
merry confusion of platters, dishes, glasses, and bottles; jugs of 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 Moliere.

This was the state which the shepherd idyl, begun at five o'clock in the
morning, had reached at half-past four in the afternoon. The sun was
setting; their appetites were satisfied.

The Champs-Elysees, filled with sunshine and with people, were nothing but
light and dust, the two things of which glory is composed. The horses of
Marly, those neighing marbles, were prancing in a cloud of gold. Carriages
were going and coming. A squadron of magnificent body-guards, with their
clarions at their head, were descending the Avenue de Neuilly; the white
flag, showing faintly rosy in the setting sun, floated over the dome of
the Tuileries. The Place de la Concorde, which had become the Place Louis
XV. once more, was choked with happy promenaders. Many wore the silver
fleur-de-lys suspended from the white-watered ribbon, which had not yet
wholly disappeared from button-holes in the year 1817. Here and there
choruses of little girls threw to the winds, amid the passersby, who
formed into circles and applauded, the then celebrated Bourbon air, which
was destined to strike the Hundred Days with lightning, and which had for
its refrain:&mdash;

::''"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 even
decorated with the fleur-de-lys, like the bourgeois, scattered over the
large square and the Marigny square, were playing at rings and revolving
on the wooden horses; others were engaged in drinking; some journeyman
printers had on paper caps; their laughter was audible. Every thing was
radiant. It was a time of undisputed peace and profound royalist security;
it was the epoch when a special and private report of Chief of Police
Angeles to the King, on the subject of the suburbs of Paris, terminated
with these lines:&mdash;

"Taking all things into consideration, Sire, there is nothing to be feared
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 are very
pretty men, Sire. It would take all of two of them to make one of your
grenadiers. There is nothing to be feared on the part of the populace of
Paris the capital. It is remarkable that the stature of this population
should have diminished in the last fifty years; and the populace of the
suburbs is still more puny than at the time of the Revolution. It is not
dangerous. In short, it is an amiable rabble."

Prefects of the police do not deem it possible that a cat can transform
itself into a lion; that does happen, however, and in that lies the
miracle wrought by the populace of Paris. Moreover, the cat so despised by
Count Angles possessed the esteem of the republics of old. In their eyes
it was liberty incarnate; and as though to serve as pendant to the Minerva
Aptera of the Piraeus, there stood on the public square in Corinth the
colossal bronze figure of a cat. The ingenuous police of the Restoration
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 Parisian is to the
Frenchman what the Athenian was to the Greek: no one sleeps more soundly
than he, no one is more frankly frivolous and lazy than he, no one can
better assume the air of forgetfulness; let him not be trusted
nevertheless; he is ready for any sort of cool deed; but when there is
glory at the end of it, he is worthy of admiration in every sort of fury.
Give him a pike, he will produce the 10th of August; give him a gun, you
will have Austerlitz. He is Napoleon's stay and Danton's resource. Is it a
question of country, he enlists; is it a question of liberty, he tears up
the pavements. Beware! his hair filled with wrath, is epic; his blouse
drapes itself like the folds of a chlamys. Take care! he will make of the
first Rue Grenetat which comes to hand Caudine Forks. When the hour
strikes, this man of the faubourgs will grow in stature; this little man
will arise, and his gaze will be terrible, and his breath will become a
tempest, and there will issue forth from that slender chest enough wind to
disarrange the folds of the Alps. It is, thanks to the suburban man of
Paris, that the Revolution, mixed with arms, conquers Europe. He sings; it
is his delight. Proportion his song to his nature, and you will see! As
long as he has for refrain nothing but 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 Angles' report, we will return to
our four couples. The dinner, as we have said, was drawing to its close.

==Translation notes==

==Textual notes==

==de Corinthe le colosse de bronze d'un chat / in Corinth the colossal bronze figure of a cat== 

Hugo seems to have made this claim without any historic evidence, equally so for the claim that cats represented liberty for ancient Republics.<ref>Rogers, Katharine M., ''The Cat and the Human Imagination: Feline Images from Bast to Garfield'', pp. 5-6.  Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2001. https://books.google.com/books?id=D1wZuTutJbwC&dq=The+Cat+and+the+Human+Imagination&source=gbs_navlinks_s </ref>  Perhaps Hugo was familiar with the Greek goddess, Artemis', identification with the Egyptian goddess Bubastis, that took the form of a cat and was worshipped.<ref> Smith, William. "Bubastis", in ''A Dictionary of Greek and Roman biography and mythology.'' London. John Murray: printed by Spottiswoode and Co., New-Street Square and Parliament Street. In the article on Soranus, we find: "at this present time (1848)" and this date seems to reflect the dates of works cited. 1873 - probably the printing date.   http://www.perseus.tufts.edu/hopper/text?doc=Perseus%3Atext%3A1999.04.0104%3Aentry%3Dbubastis-bio-1 </ref>  There are records of Artemis cults in Corinth and a statue of Artemis there, but no suggestions that Artemis was in the form of a cat.<ref> Atsma, Aaron J., ''Artemis Cult 1''. Theoi Project, 2017.  http://www.theoi.com/Cult/ArtemisCult.html </ref> I found no written documents thus far stating that a bronze statue of a cat was located in Corinth. 

===la restauration / the Restoration=== 

The Restoration, or the Bourbon Restoration, is the socio-governmental context of ''Les Misérables''.  The ruling family, or house, of Bourbon began with Louis I, the first Duke of Bourbon, in 1327.<ref name="RSBrit"> Royde-Smith, John Graham.  "House of Bourbon," ''Encyclopedia Britannica''. Publication date not stated. Retrieved 3 August 2017. https://www.britannica.com/topic/house-of-Bourbon </ref>  The Bourbon lineage ruled France for over 200 years, until it was terminated during the Revolution, in 1792.<ref> Editors. "Bourbon Restoration," in ''Encyclopedia Britannica''. Published 6 March 2009. https://www.britannica.com/event/Bourbon-Restoration </ref><ref name="RSBrit" />  Bourbons also ruled Spain through various and lengthy durations.<ref name="RSBrit" />   

After Napoleon the First and France's First Empire were defeated in 1814 by European forces in The War of the Sixth Coalition, the influential French politician and diplomat, Talleyrand, convinced the European victors that a king would be good for France.<ref name="BRB"> Boundless. "Louis XVIII and the Bourbon Restoration." ''Boundless World History'' Boundless.  Publication date not stated. Retrieved 3 Aug. 2017 from https://www.boundless.com/world-history/textbooks/boundless-world-history-textbook/post-napoleonic-europe-1197/france-after-1815-1203/louis-xviii-and-the-bourbon-restoration-1204-17771/ </ref>  Most civil rights gained during the Revolution were retained during the Restoration. <ref name="BRB" />

==Citations==
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