"Don't put your trust in revolutions. They always come round again. That's why they're called revolutions. People die, and nothing changes." - Terry Pratchett, Night Watch
A retelling of part of Les Miserables, from about 1828-1832.
Élise was born i...
Despite his protestations, Joly joined the rest of us in going to the Montagnes de Belleville towards the end of April. The weather had proved to be quite changeable the week prior, and it was a little uncertain whether (when the planned day arrived) it would rain or stay fine, but ultimately the spring sunshine seemed to win the day. As such, I took advantage of being able to wear my best dress of printed cotton - the weather was quite warm enough for it.
Regardless of their name, the Montagnes de Belleville (or Montagnes Russes) weren't real mountains, Russian or otherwise. They were huge sloping tracks down which people in little wheeled carts could slide, revelling in the speed and the downward (and then upward) motion. They were a little like sledging, but without the cold or snow, and in many ways better controlled. I'd never been on them before, though I had seen pictures, and couldn't help but look forward to it.
Even with the good weather, it would be more than an hour's walk to get to Belleville, just outside the outskirts of the city, so Enjolras decreed that we should take a fiacre instead. Depending on the traffic, it could easily be just as slow as walking, but it was at least enclosed and we were sat down. I insisted that I didn't mind walking, but he was firm, and pointed out that he was quite capable of paying for such a thing. He arranged for Combeferre to join us - the cab could, after all, fit four, and suggested that I ask Claudine if she'd like to join us. I'd just as soon have had Enjolras all to myself, but both Combeferre and Claudine were easy company, and I could hardly begrudge them.
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As was ever his way, Combeferre seemed to know everything there was possible to know about the Montagnes Russes, and imparted the knowledge with such enthusiasm that he was a joy to listen to.
"They're not so popular these days, and they haven't been for a while. It was about 15 years ago when they were at their height. I don't know if you remember - there was a Scribe play a while back about the 'battle of the mountains' - making fun of the way the various proprietors argued about 'unfair competition'?"
None of us had. Claudine was the only one of us who had been living in Paris in 1817, and was too young to have been paying much attention to every little comedy-vaudeville staged.
"Never mind. The evolution of the technology is far more interesting! They began as a polished wooden track with sliding carts on it - they'd be dragged up to the top, customers would sit down in the carts - one person to a cart - and then they'd be pushed down the slopes. Then they fitted wheels to them, but they often ended up being derailed.
"The Russian troops in Paris after Napoleon's defeat is what really helped their success, and by this time they'd started using the guided wheels that they still use today, so the carts don't derail - "
"That's a relief," Claudine interrupted. "The last thing I want is to come off the slope at speed! There'd be no way of stopping oneself."
"That's not a danger any more. The main problem is the ascent."
