Chapter 424 1832 on the Other Side of the Strait (6K8)

In the spring of 1832, although the cholera had for three months stopped the people's mental activities and cast a gloomy and dead atmosphere over their excitement, Paris was still in the explosive mood that had long existed.

This great city was like a cannon, the gunpowder was already loaded, and it would explode at the drop of a spark. In June 1832, the spark fell as expected, and General Lamarque was dead.

General Lamarque was a man of reputation and achievements. He showed the courage required in the Empire and the Restoration period: courage on the battlefield and courage on the pulpit. His eloquence was no less brave than that of his youth, and people felt that there was a sword in his language. Like his elder Foy, he raised the flag of freedom after raising the banner of command.

His death was expected, and the people feared his death as a loss, and the government feared his death as a crisis. This kind of death is a kind of sorrow. Like any pain, sorrow can be transformed into rebellion.

June 5th was the day for General Lamarque's burial. When the first rays of sunlight illuminated the waves of the Seine in the early morning, the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, where the funeral procession was passing, was boiling like boiling water.

This chaotic area with crisscrossing streets was full of people. They armed themselves as much as possible. Some carpenters brought the iron clamps from their workbench to pry open the door.

One of them took the iron hook for shoe soles and sharpened it into a dagger.

The carpenter next to him saw this and was about to leave. His companion asked him, "Where are you going?"

"I don't have a weapon yet."

"Where are you going to get one?"

"At the construction site, I have to go get my two-foot rule."

A deliveryman bought ten sous worth of wine and would chat with any worker he saw: "Do you have a weapon?"

"No."

"Go to the house of Fessebier, he lives between the Porte de Montreuil and the Porte de Charonne, you can get weapons there, there are guns and ammunition."

In Barthelemy's shop near the Porte des Thrones and Capel's Tavern des Capelles, people with serious faces drinking can be seen everywhere, they gather in a group to have a secret conversation.

"Do you have a gun?"

"In my sleeve. What about you?"

"In my shirt pocket."

After drinking, the workers began to wait at the corner of Bercy Street for a man named Lemarin, who was the Republican liaison in the suburb of Saint-Marceau. All the passwords were communicated publicly, without any intention of concealing anything. Everyone knew that Paris was going to have a revolution again.

On this morning, the sky sometimes cleared and sometimes rained. General Lamarque's coffin passed through Paris under the escort of the Army Guard of Honor. Just like the workers, the government's mind was always tense.

The Army Guard of Honor escorting the coffin was obviously not of normal size. There were two battalions, and the marching drums were covered with black veils. The soldiers carried their guns backwards. Following closely behind were the National Guards with knives hanging on their waists, and their artillery accompanied the coffin. The hearse was pulled by a team of young men, and the officers of the Paris Invalids followed closely behind the hearse, holding laurel branches symbolizing peace and tranquility in their hands.

And on the road along the way, behind the motorcade, there was an endless crowd, and the heads of people were like ants.

Members of the People's Friends Society, students of law schools, medical schools, and literary schools, exiles from various countries, carpenters, stonemasons, and printers who were on strike. The flags of Spain, Italy, Germany, and Poland, the horizontal tricolor flag, and all kinds of flags.

They shouted loudly, some waved sticks, some waved command swords, and some slapped the two pistols on their waists without concealing. They were sometimes chaotic, sometimes in a line, without order, but united.

On the balconies, windows, roofs of houses facing the street, on the streets, and on the branches, men, women, and children looked at the group of armed people walking past with anxiety in their eyes.

In the Place Louis XV, the government's four carbine cavalry companies were already on standby. They were all on horseback, with long guns and short guns, all loaded with bullets, and the bullet bags hanging on the saddles were also stuffed full.

In the Latin Quarter and the Botanical Garden, the Grand Paris Police Security Police Team led by Victor stood guard in sections one street after another.

A squadron of dragoons was deployed in the Paris Wine Market, half of the 12th Light Cavalry Regiment was on guard at the Place de Grève, and the other half was sent to the Bastille for defense.

The 6th Dragoon Regiment entered Zelestin, the courtyard of the Louvre was crowded with artillery units, and the rest of the army was on standby in the barracks.

And this doesn't even include the regiments outside Paris.

As long as the situation is not right, the nervous government is ready to use the 24,000 soldiers in the city and 30,000 soldiers in the suburbs to press on the angry masses.

While the government was deploying troops, all kinds of gossip were circulating in the funeral procession.

Some were talking about the conspiracy of the orthodox faction in private, and the Bonapartists were talking about the Duke of Reichstadt in Austria, Napoleon's son, the King of Rome. They had high hopes for him and hoped that he would stand up and lead the French people to restore the glory of the empire.

Someone whispered to everyone that later today, two foremen who had been won over would open the door of the weapons factory from the inside to the people. This news instantly ignited everyone, and they were eager to do something violent and noble.

Of course, there were occasionally a few faces with vulgar words and really like gangsters, who said: "Let's rob!"

When the hearse passed the Vendôme Monument, someone found the extreme royalist representative, Duke Fitz James, standing on a balcony wearing a hat, and threw a lot of stones at him.

A Gallic rooster on a flagpole was plucked off and dragged in the mud. At the Porte Saint-Martin, a gendarme was stabbed with a sword, and an officer of the 12th Hussars shouted in a loud voice: "I am a Republican."

The students of the Polytechnic School suddenly appeared after being ordered by the school to stay in school and not go out, and people shouted: "Long live! Long live the Republic!"

The fierce crowd of people who were rushing to the excitement, like a torrent of a river, pushed the waves in front, from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine to the Bastille, and then joined the funeral procession. This turbulent and shocking momentum made the crowd even more excited.

The crowd went from the bridgehead to the Bourdon River, covering the Bastille Square, and then extended along the boulevard to the Porte Saint-Martin.

The funeral began, and the noisy crowd suddenly quieted down. Lafayette went on stage to give a speech and bid farewell to Lamarck. At this solemn moment, everyone took off their hats and all their hearts were pounding.

Suddenly, a man in black on horseback appeared in the crowd, holding a red flag in his hand. This red flag set off a storm, from the Boulevard de Bourdon to the Pont d'Austerlitz, the sound was like the roar of the sea tide.

A group of young people, amid cheers, pushed Lamarck in the hearse to the Pont d'Austerlitz, and pulled Lafayette's carriage along the Morand River.

On the left bank of the Morand River, the city government's cavalry blocked the way at the bridge head, and the dragoons on the right bank drove out from Celestine. The young people following Lafayette found them and shouted: "Dragoons! Dragoons!"

The dragoons moved forward slowly, without making any sound, with their guns in leather holsters, sabers in sheaths, and carbines in buttstocks, looking at the crowd with gloomy expressions.

Lafayette came in front of them in a carriage, and the dragoons made way to the sides to let the carriage pass, and then closed again. They confronted the crowd at a distance of 200 steps, and the strong smell of gunpowder made the women flee in panic.

There were many different opinions in Paris about what happened afterwards. Some said that the charge sounded in the arsenal, and some said that a child gave the dragoon a dagger. But no matter what, the fact is that three gunshots were suddenly fired at the scene.

The first shot killed the dragoon captain Zhuo Lei, the second shot killed a deaf old woman who was closing the window on Contescarp Street, and the third shot scratched an officer's epaulette.

A woman in the crowd shouted: "It's too early to do it!"

But it was too late to say this now. People heard the sound of horse hooves, and a whole squadron of dragoons rushed out of the barracks on the Morlan River. They raised their sabers high, like a violent hurricane, sweeping everything away.

Stones flew everywhere, gunshots rang out, many people jumped down the river bank, some pulled up wooden stakes, some fired pistols, and a barricade was formed. Those who were driven back, pulled the hearse, ran across the Austerlitz Bridge, and rushed towards the Security Police.

Four carbine cavalry companies launched a charge, and the dragoons cut and killed everyone they saw. The crowd fled in all directions. For a moment, all directions of Paris were ignited by roars and flames.

In June 1832, the revolution broke out again.

Victor Hugo, June 5, 1832, in Paris.

…

Since the cholera epidemic, the death toll in Paris has reached 17,000 to 18,000.

Under the threat of death and disease, against the background of agricultural failures, the tension in Paris is still heating up. Everyone's eyes were filled with anger and hatred. Recently, I didn't even dare to go out alone in my police uniform. The common people believed the rumors of poisoning by the police.

I knew that if they found a policeman alone on the street, it would be a blessing from God to be beaten.

But in such an extraordinary period, when the police force was already stretched to the limit, we still had to execute many other orders and cooperate with the actions of the National Guard and the army. In the situation where the enemy was numerous and we were few, we had to give in to mass incidents many times.

We joked privately: "Cholera has not only taken a lot of lives, but if it goes wrong, it will also bury Louis Philippe's new dynasty."

Everyone with a discerning eye knew that General Lamarque's funeral was very likely to be the fuse of the uprising.

On June 5, my boys and I mixed into the funeral procession in plain clothes. As expected, I learned a lot of unexpected news and passed it back in time. Among all the bad news, the most fortunate thing is that we learned that the orthodox monarchists did not participate. This time, it was just the republicans and Bonapartists who were closely united.

It was strange that the republicans could walk together with the Bonapartists.

They seemed to think that Napoleon's name represented democracy and freedom, and the signal of democracy and freedom was sent from St. Helena, where Napoleon was exiled.

I followed them to the funeral and saw a man in black riding a horse holding a red flag appeared in the square. At this time, I realized that the situation was not good. Sure enough, the crowd began to shout the slogan "Long live the Republic" like a tsunami.

I immediately winked at the boys and asked them to return to the police headquarters with me immediately.

However, what no one expected was that this riot would immediately escalate into a rebellion and seizure of power in a short time.

On the evening of June 5, the streets and alleys of Paris were full of barricades, and everyone was armed. At around 8 o'clock in the evening, the roadblocks on the main roads of the city were also set up.

The rebels held all kinds of guns and fired at us fiercely. Relying on my familiarity with the street network of Paris, I took the boys to build several barricades in the old town and caught some armed elements and rebels holding inflammatory banners by surprise.

Humph! I'm not bragging. The map of the entire Paris, every secret passage and alley is engraved in my heart, François Vidocq.

But to be honest, the terrible streets of Paris should be renovated. Most of the streets are very narrow, and only stones and wooden stakes are needed to build roadblocks. Only seven or eight people with good marksmanship can easily block the advance of about a company of troops.

Everyone knows that in this situation, charging the barricades is a way to die. Soldiers are unwilling to die in vain, so they let the citizens' volunteers in the National Guard take over. But no one is a fool, and these volunteers are also unwilling to be cannon fodder to block the eyes.

The situation in the whole city is very complicated. I saw some isolated and helpless sentries surrender to the insurgents without receiving support.

On the way, I also met my old friend, Count Bondy, the highest executive of the Seine River District. He and several servants were chased around by the insurgents. For him, the journey to the city hall office was too far.

Fortunately, a rented carriage happened to pass by at this time. I pushed him into the carriage and sent Vacour to protect his safety. Although Vacour did not perform well in the London operation last year, he completed the task well this time and lived up to my expectations of him. Well... maybe I should consider applying for a commendation for him.

I led the remaining guys all the way back to the headquarters, and ran into Director Risoke just after entering the door.

It was obvious that he was a little panicked.

Although he had always refused to admit the political commentators' predictions that the Louis Philippe dynasty would inevitably fall, he could not help but admit it when Paris was full of smoke.

He planned to go to the Tuileries Palace to discuss countermeasures with the Prime Minister and the Cabinet, but he was quite worried about the fire of rifles on the street. I knew that my chance to show off had come.

I escorted him and personally led the way to scout and explore the way. When passing a government army post, the soldiers insisted on checking the director's ID card, otherwise they would not let him go. However, they recognized me, and for the sake of fifty francs and my famous name, they finally let me go.

As soon as we arrived at the Tuileries Palace, we learned that His Majesty King Louis Philippe had rushed back to Paris from the Castle of Compiègne with the Queen and Princess Adelaide after learning about the situation in Paris. If it were not for this uprising, he should have received the visiting King Leopold I of Belgium in Compiègne.

Although His Majesty the King looked very pathetic and had no kingly arrogance at all, I still had to applaud his behavior of personally riding back from Neuilly to command the capital's actions, which at least showed his responsibility as a king.

I am very happy that I was a comrade-in-arms with the King in the same army when I was young, and even after so many years, he has not lost the courage to face difficulties due to his comfortable life and lofty status.

Marshal Robaud received us at the Tuileries Palace and issued clear and powerful instructions to the Grand Paris Police Department.

However, during the one hour we traveled between the palace and the police headquarters, our headquarters on Jerusalem Road was attacked by the insurgents. Fortunately, our remaining police officers held the position.

Before I could catch my breath, I led my men around the Ile de la Cité to the right bank of the Seine. As far as I know, the center of the riot is in the Saint-Merri district, where the streets are very narrow and can only be passed by one person, so the cavalry suffered heavy casualties here.

When I arrived here, I found that some rebels were already celebrating with drinking and revelry, and the streets were full of drunkards. Of course, not all of them were like this, and some of them were still guarding the barricades.

After several hours of fighting, my boys and I were all tattered and dirty, but there was still a sharp-eyed person in the uprising team who recognized me. In an instant, rifles were pointed at us.

Oh my God! I was really scared at that time!

I heard the bullets whizzing over our heads, and my scalp was cold.

We were like rats crossing the street, and everyone shouted and beat us. I fled with my boys. We returned to the headquarters in a panic and asked the director to improve our firepower configuration. I promised him that as long as my security department could be fully armed, I would be able to quell the riots soon.

But Risoke obviously didn't believe me, because not long ago, even the headquarters of the Greater Paris Police Department was surrounded by the rebels. I saw that he was unwilling to approve guns and bullets for me, so I could only take my brothers back to the security department.

Along the way, we disguised ourselves and followed the insurgents closely, sometimes even joining their attacks, because I found that the government troops were stationed outside the building of the Ministry of Security, which made me wonder if the army had ulterior motives. After all, nothing can be trusted in Paris, so you have to be on guard against others.

Throughout the second half of the night, the sniper among the insurgents fired aimlessly at the Saint-Lachapelle courtyard of the Ministry of Security, but he didn't hit anything, because I was not stupid enough to stand there and be a target for him.

I patrolled the area almost all night, and during the day, the Grand Paris Police Department had a hard time. The entire Ile de la Cité had been turned into a strong fortress by the insurgents, and the attack was imminent.

The intelligence was handed over to the City Hall, but there was no response. I volunteered to go to the City Hall to get back the report of Count Bondy. Thank God, fortunately I stuffed him into a rented carriage yesterday.

When I was rushing back, I passed by the Beach Square and found that the government troops were fighting fiercely with the insurgents, but I was smart enough to return safely through the smoke.

After a night, the honest and timid residents of the Ile de la Cité had to respond to the call of the criminals and join their uprising team, whether they were willing or not.

And the army obviously couldn't expect them to control the situation on the Ile de la Cité under such circumstances. So I asked again, asking for my Security Department to take the lead.

After hesitating for a while, the director finally decided to play my trump card.

After getting approval, I immediately began to mobilize volunteers, and all the police officers of the Security Department gathered under my flag. These guys were very brave, and they made it clear that they would charge wherever I commanded.

Their oaths even alarmed the soldiers and horses who were resting in the courtyard of the Security Department. Eight strong cavalrymen also rushed over and asked to join my army.

At this time, the rabble in every corner of the Île de la Cité was simply out of the cage: thieves, lazy people, hooligans, prostitutes, and people who had been in prison. I don’t know why, but this area seems to be full of these freeloaders. Their number far exceeds those Republican and Bonapartist political partisans.

These people huddled together, tightly surrounded by a former naval gunner named Edward Columbus.

Oh! Maybe some people are afraid of this environment, but I am different. I was born to be suited to this kind of chaotic environment. Danger is the most suitable climate for me. Only in this critical moment can I really find myself.

I set out with my 28-man commando team to take the heads of Columbus and his minions.

We found this guy at the intersection of Jude Street and Bailing Street, where he was directing his men to set up roadblocks. I pretended to be a passerby and chatted with him kindly. Then, when he was not paying attention, I kicked him in the private part, knocked him to the ground, and arrested him.

Seeing this, the commando teammates also rushed forward and subdued all the minions on the spot.

A few minutes ago, this group of scum was still fighting with the soldiers, but they didn't expect that in a blink of an eye, their opponents would be replaced by plainclothes policemen. They were like falling into an ice cave.

There were 15 villains occupying a post at the bridge head. When they saw me walking alone with a pipe in my mouth, they were immediately scared out of their wits. I just shouted at them: "I am François Vidocq, why don't you surrender?"

They were so scared that they fled in all directions, huddled together, and shouted loudly: "Run! The boss is coming, Vidocq is bringing people!"

After getting rid of Columbus, the leader, the rest of the things were much easier. We quickly captured five barricades and handed them over to the government army and the National Guard. Their way to the Île de la Cité was finally clear.

But what I didn't expect was that these bastards were not good at suppressing, and their eyes were not good. A group of soldiers mistook me for a mob and fired a volley at me. But fortunately, they were not as well-trained as the soldiers of the Napoleonic era, so no bullets hit me.

The crisis of the Île de la Cité was resolved, and I was very happy that I did something for the country at such a moment. But, I was also very sorry, because I heard that in the mainland city, the Cathedral of Saint-Merri witnessed a massacre. General Lede's soldiers killed anyone they saw while clearing those important roadblocks. Regardless of men, women, old or young.

I think my behavior deserves praise, but this is the world. I always think that the Republican newspaper "Tribune" may have used too harsh words when evaluating me.

-Why did the great uprising end in failure? Why couldn't the rebellion succeed? This is because the government played tricks and the police were vicious and insidious. But the most fundamental reason is the betrayal on the uprising flag. It is an ugly symbol to some people and perhaps absurd to others. The reason why the notorious Vidocq and his gang of gangsters remained calm and tried their best to protect the throne was because they did not sail under the flag of the people in that storm. The Republicans were unwilling to believe that Vidocq played a decisive role in suppressing the uprising. Whenever they thought that Louis Philippe was able to return to the Tuileries Palace because of the support of Vidocq, the legendary demon police, they could not be more upset than this.

Oh! These republicans don't mind the soldiers in uniform raising their butcher knives against them, but they always care about plainclothes policemen like me. I don't understand, being in prison is certainly not good, but isn't it good for me to let you live?

Although many people in prison will eventually be sentenced to death, isn't that the fault of you Republican leaders, Lafayette and other bigwigs? Why didn't he defend you? When you were making a fuss, what were Lafayette and others doing?

As far as I know, he seems to have left Paris by car.

François Vidocq, July 25, 1832, in Paris.