By ten o'clock, indeed,
great crowds had assembled there, and the excitement grew apace. The same
words were on all lips: "Sedan--the whole French army taken--the wretched
Emperor's sword surrendered--unworthy to reign--dethrone him!" Just as, in
another crisis of French history, men had climbed on to the chairs and
tables in the garden of the Palais Royal to denounce Monsieur and Madame
Veto and urge the Parisians to march upon Versailles, so now others
climbed on the chairs outside the Boulevard cafes to denounce the Empire,
and urge a march upon the Palais Bourbon, where the Legislative Body was
about to meet. And amidst the general clamour one cry persistently
prevailed. It was: "Decheance! Decheance!--Dethronement! Dethronement!"
[Note: This was a little cafe on the Boulevard des Italiens, and was noted
for its quietude during the afternoon, though in the evening it was, by
reason of its proximity to the "Petite Bourse" (held on the side-walk in
front of it), invaded by noisy speculators. Captain Bingham, my father,
and myself long frequented the Cafe Gretry, often writing our "Paris
letters" there. Subsequent to the war, Bingham and I removed to the Cafe
Cardinal, where, however, the everlasting rattle of dominoes proved very
disturbing.
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