Instead of the Rue d'Arcole, which now leads directly to the square, it was then approached on one side, by a mean, narrow lane, like all the other streets of the City, and terminating in a dark, low archway.Upon entering the square the principal door of the huge Cathedral was to the left of the spectator, and facing him were the Hospital buildings.A
little beyond, was an opening which gave to view a portion of the parapet of the Quay Notre-Dame.A placard had been recently stuck on the discolored and sunken wail of the archway; it contained these words, traced in large characters.[37]
"VENGEANCE! VENGEANCE!
"The Working-men carried to the hospitals are poisoned, because the number of patients is too great; every night, Boats filled with corpses, drop down the Seine.
"Vengeance and Death to the murderers of the People!"
Two men, enveloped in cloaks, and half-hidden in the deep shadow of the vault, were listening with anxious curiosity to the threatening murmur, which rose with increasing force from among a tumultuous assembly, grouped around the Hospital.Soon, cries of "Death to the doctors!--
Vengeance!" reached the ears of the persons who were in ambush under the arch.
"The posters are working," said one; "the train is on fire.When once the populace is roused, we can set them on whom we please."
"I say," replied the other man, "look over there.That Hercules, whose athletic form towers above the mob, was cue of the most frantic leaders when M.Hardy's factory was destroyed."
"To be sure he was; I know him again.Wherever mischief is to be done, you are sure to find those vagabonds.
"Now, take my advice, do not let us remain under this archway," said the other man; "the wind is as cold as ice, and though I am cased in flannel--"
"You are right, the cholera is confoundedly impolite.Besides, everything is going on well here; I am likewise assured that the whole of the Faubourg Saint-Antoine is ready to rise in the republican cause; that will serve our ends, and our holy religion will triumph over revolutionary impiety.Let us rejoin Father d'Aigrigny."
"Where shall we find him?"
"Near here, come--come."
The two hastily disappeared.
The sun, beginning to decline, shed its golden rays upon the blackened sculptures of the porch of Notre-Dame, and upon its two massy towers, rising in imposing majesty against a perfectly blue sky, for during the fast few days, a north-east wind, dry and cold, had driven away the lightest cloud.A considerable number of people, as we have already stated, obstructed the approach to the Hospital; they crowded round the iron railings that protect the front of the building, behind which was stationed a detachment of infantry, the cries of "Death to the doctors!"
becoming every moment more threatening.The people who thus vociferated.
belonged to an idle, vagabond, and depraved populace--the dregs of the Paris mob; and (terrible spectacle!) the unfortunate beings who were forcibly carried through the midst of these hideous groups entered the Hospital, whilst the air resounded with hoarse clamors, and cries of "Death." Every moment, fresh victims were brought along in litters, and on stretchers; the litters were frequently furnished with coarse curtains, and thus the sick occupants were concealed from the public gaze; but the stretchers, having no covering, the convulsive movements of the dying patients often thrust aside the sheet, and exposed to view their faces, livid as corpses.Far from inspiring with terror the wretches assembled round the Hospital, such spectacles became to them the signal for savage jests, and atrocious predictions upon the fate of these poor creatures, when once in the power of the doctors.
The big blaster and Ciboule, with a good many of their adherents, were among the mob.After the destruction of Hardy's factory, the quarryman was formally expelled from the union of the Wolves, who would have nothing more to do with this wretch; since then, he had plunged into the grossest debauchery, and speculating on his herculean strength, had hired himself as the officious champion of Ciboule and her compeers.With the exception therefore of some chance passengers, the square of Notre-Dame was filled with a ragged crowd, composed of the refuse of the Parisian populace--wretches who call for pity as well as blame; for misery, ignorance, and destitution, beget but too fatally vice and crime.These savages of civilization felt neither pity, improvement, nor terror, at the shocking sights with which they were surrounded; careless of a life which was a daily struggle against hunger, or the allurements of guilt, they braved the pestilence with infernal audacity, or sank under it with blasphemy on their lips.
The tall form of the quarryman was conspicuous amongst the rest; with inflamed eyes and swollen features, he yelled at the top of his voice:
"Death to the body-snatchers! they poison the people."
"That is easier than to feed them," added Ciboule.Then, addressing herself to an old man, who was being carried with great difficulty through the dense crowd, upon a chair, by two men, the hag continued:
"Hey? don't go in there, old croaker; die here in the open air instead of dying in that den, where you'll be doctored like an old rat."
"Yes," added the quarryman; "and then they'll throw you into the water to feast the fishes, which you won't swallow any more."