On the 20th of Brumaire, day of the Feast of Reason, maddest day the world has ever known, the Revolution, having overturned the social order, abolished the clergy, introduced the monetary system, instituted fraternal banquets, established popular education, and renamed the calendar, now, as though unwilling that aught should exist save in its image, decreed the abolition of religion and set up the cult of Reason. The neighborhood of the Prêtre Pendu, accustomed as it was to the vagaries of its tyrants, was yet astounded at the pitch of frenzy to which exultation stirred the Marseillais and his companions.
The ecstasy of Javogues terrified all with its frantic joy; for him the consummation of the human race had arrived. He spent the morning before the cabaret, astride a vat, dispensing wine and hand-shakes, his arms in the air haranguing the crowd that trembled to be present and dared not stay away.
"Religion is dead!" he bellowed to all comers. "The farce is ended! The impudent bubble is pricked!"
Boudgoust and Jambony, on either side, imitated his fury and his gestures, while Cramoisin, twisting in the crowd, made all he met shout to the cry of:
"Vive la Raison!"
The listeners for the most part simulated enthusiasm, with an eye to escape. A few echoed:
"Down with superstition!"
La Mère Corniche, hobbling into the midst of them, extended her hand to Javogues in rough familiarity, crying:
"Well, my big fellow, are you happy? What a day, hanh? No more superstitions for us! Touch hands."