CHAPTER XII.
DISORDER THE PARTISAN OF ORDER.
Bossuet muttered in Combeferre's ear,--
"He has not answered my question."
"He is a man who does kind actions with musket-shots," said Combeferre.
Those who have any recollection of this now distant epoch know that thesuburban National Guards were valiant against the insurrection, andthey were peculiarly brave and obstinate in the days of June, 1832. Anyworthy landlord, whose establishment the insurrection injured, becameleonine on seeing his dancing-room deserted, and let himself be killedin order to save order represented by the suburban public-house. Atthis time, which was at once heroic and bourgeois, in the presenceof ideas which had their knights, interests had their Paladins, andthe prosaic nature of the motive took away none of the bravery ofthe movement. The decrease of a pile of crowns made bankers sing theMarseillaise, men lyrically shed their blood for the till, and defendedwith Lacedæmonian enthusiasm the shop, that immense diminutive of thecountry. Altogether there was a good deal that was very serious in allthis; social interests were entering into a contest, while awaitingthe day when they would enter a state of equilibrium. Another sign ofthis time was the anarchy mingled with the governmentalism (a barbarousname of the correct party), and men were for order without discipline.The drums played unexpectedly fancy calls, at the command of somecolonel of the National Guard: one captain went under fire throughinspiration, while some National Guards fought "for the idea," and ontheir own account. In critical moments during the riots men followedthe advice of their chiefs less than their own instincts, and therewere in the army of order real Guerilleros, some of the sword likeFannicot, and others of the pen like Henry Fonfrède. Civilization,unhappily represented at this period more by an aggregation ofinterests than by a group of principles, was, or believed itself tobe, in danger; it uttered the alarm cry, and every man, constitutinghimself a centre, defended, succored, and protected it in his own way,and the first comer took on himself to save society.
Zeal sometimes went as far as extermination; a platoon of NationalGuards constituted themselves of their own authority a council of war,and tried and executed in five minutes an insurgent prisoner. It wasan improvisation of this nature which killed Jean Prouvaire. It isthat ferocious Lynch law with which no party has the right to reproachanother, for it is applied by the Republic in America as by monarchyin Europe. This Lynch law was complicated by mistakes. On a day ofriot a young poet of the name of Paul Aimé Garnier was pursued onthe Place Royale at the bayonet's point, and only escaped by takingshelter under the gateway at No. 6. "There's another of those SaintSimonians," they shouted, and wished to kill him. Now, he had underhis arm a volume of the Memoirs of the Duc de Saint Simon; a NationalGuard read on the back the words "Saint Simon," and shouted, "Death tohim!" On June 6, 1832, a company of suburban National Guards, commandedby Captain Fannicot, to whom we have already referred, decimatedthe Rue de la Chanvrerie for his own good pleasure, and on his ownauthority. This fact, singular though it is, was proved by the judicialreport drawn up in consequence of the insurrection of 1832. CaptainFannicot, an impatient and bold bourgeois, a species of condottiereof order, and a fanatical and insubmissive governmentalist, could notresist the attraction of firing prematurely, and taking the barricadeall by himself, that is to say, with his company. Exasperated at thesuccessive apparition of the red flag and the old coat, which he tookfor the black flag, he loudly blamed the generals and commanders ofcorps, who were holding councils, as they did not think the decisivemoment for assault had arrived, but were "letting the insurrection stewin its own gravy," according to a celebrated expression of one of them.As for him, he thought the barricade ripe, and as everything that isripe is bound to fall, he made the attempt.
He commanded men as resolute as himself. "Mad-men," a witness calledthem. His company, the same which had shot Jean Prouvaire, was thefirst of the battalion posted at the street corner. At the moment whenit was least expected the captain dashed his men at the barricade;but this movement, executed with more good-will than strategy, costFannicot's company dearly. Before it had covered two thirds of thestreet a general discharge from the barricade greeted it; four, theboldest men of all, running at the head, were shot down in point-blankrange at the very foot of the barricade, and this courageous mob ofNational Guards, very brave men, but not possessing the militarytenacity, was compelled to fall back after a few moments, leavingfifteen corpses in the street. The momentary hesitation gave theinsurgents time to reload, and a second and most deadly dischargeassailed the company before the men were able to regain their shelterat the corner of the street. In a moment they were caught between twofires, and received the volley from the cannon, which, having no ordersto the contrary, did not cease firing. The intrepid and imprudentFannicot was one of those killed by this round of grape-shot; he waslaid low by the cannon. This attack, which was more furious thanserious, irritated Enjolras.
"The asses!" he said, "they have their men killed and expend ourammunition for nothing."
Enjolras spoke like the true general of the riot that he was:insurrection and repression do not fight with equal arms; for theinsurrection, which can be soon exhausted, has only a certain number ofrounds to fire and of combatants to expend. An expended cartouche-boxand a killed man cannot have their place filled up. Repression,on the other hand, having the army, does not count men, and havingVincennes, does not count rounds. Repression has as many regimentsas the barricade has men, and as many arsenals as the barricade hascartouche-boxes. Hence these are always contests of one man against ahundred, which ever end by the destruction of the barricade, unlessrevolution, suddenly dashing up, casts into the balance its flashingarchangel's glaive. Such things happen, and then everything rises,paving-stones get into a state of ebullition, and popular redoubtsswarm. Paris has a sovereign tremor, the _quid divinum_ is evolved;there is an August 10 or a July 29 in the air, a prodigious lightappears, the yawning throat of force recoils, and the army, that lion,sees before it, standing erect and tranquil, that prophet, France.