Chapter 270 Three Burials: A Chance of Rebirth

In the spring of 1832, although three months of cholera had sedated the minds of the people, and cast an indescribably somber death upon their agitation, Paris was still in its long-standing smoldering state. in the mood.As we have said before, this great city is like a cannon, loaded with powder and ready to explode when a single spark falls.In June, 1832, that spark was the death of General Lamarck. General Lamarck was a man of stature and accomplishment.He exhibited successively in the Empire and the Restoration the valor which was required in those two periods: valor in the field and valor in the pulpit.His eloquence was no less than his bravery, and people felt that there was a sword in his language.Just like Foix of his older generation, he held up the banner of freedom after holding up the banner of order.He sat between the left and the extreme left, loved by the people because he accepted the opportunities the future offered, loved by the masses because he had served the Emperor.Along with the Count Gerard and the Count Drouet, he was one of Napoleon's junior marshals.The treaty of 1815 made him so angry that it seemed like a personal insult.He hated Wellington so much that he was loved by the crowd, and for seventeen years he hardly asked about the many incidents in between, and he never moved the painful history of Waterloo in his heart.When he was dying, at that last moment, he held tightly to his chest a sword given to him by some officers during the Hundred Days Empire.Napoleon said "army" when he was dying, Lamarck said "fatherland" when he was dying.

His death was expected. 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, grief can turn into rebellion.That's exactly what happened that day. On the eve and morning of June 5, the scheduled date for Lamarck's burial, the suburb of Saint-Antoine, where the funeral procession would pass, was boiling.In this chaotic area with criss-cross streets, there is a lot of people everywhere.People armed themselves as best they could.Some joiners take the iron clips on their bench "to pry the door".One of them made a dagger out of an iron hook that a cobbler used to lead his thread, removed the hook, and sharpened the iron handle.The other, eager to "do it", lay in bed for three nights with all his clothes on.A carpenter named Rombier met a colleague and asked him: "Where are you going?" What?" "I don't know," said Rompier.A delivery worker named Jacqueline talked to any worker he met: "Come with me." He bought wine for ten sous and said, "Do you have a job?" "No." He lives between the wicket of Montreuil and the wicket of Charonne, and you can find work there." Vesbyer had some bullets and weapons at home.Some well-known leaders were "collating", that is to say, running from one house to another to assemble their teams.In Barthelemy's shop near the Throne Gate, and in Capel's Capel's, the drinkers, all grave-faced, gathered together in secret conversation.They were heard to say: "Where's your pistol?" "In my coat. What about you?" "In my shirt." In front of Roland's workshop in Cross Street, in the yard of a house that had burned , in front of the tool worker Bernier's workshop, piles of people were talking in low voices.Among the group, there is the most fierce person named Ma Fu. He has never worked in the same workshop for a week, and all the bosses will not keep him, "because I have to quarrel with him every day." Ma Fudi He died the next day in the barricades of the Rue Menilmontant.Preto, who was killed in the same battle and was Mafo's assistant, was asked: "What is your purpose?" He replied: "Insurrection." Some workers gathered on the corner of the Bercy Street, Waiting for a man named Le Marin, revolutionary worker on the outskirts of Saint-Marceau.Passwords are communicated almost openly.

On the 5th of June, which alternated between rain and sunshine, General Lamarck's funeral procession, with a formal army guard of honor, marched through Paris, slightly reinforced for the unexpected.Two battalions, drums covered with black veils, guns carried behind their backs, ten thousand National Guardsmen with knives at their waists, National Guard artillery accompanied the coffin.The hearse was drawn by a procession of youths.The officers of the Invalids followed closely behind the hearse, clutching laurel branches.Then came the endless crowd, impatient and strangely shaped, members of the Society of Friends of the People, law schools, medical schools, exiles from all nations, flags of Spain, Italy, Germany, Poland, the horizontal tricolor , all kinds of flags, everything, children waving green branches, stonemasons and carpenters who are on strike, some people wear paper hats on their heads, and they can be seen as printing workers at a glance, two in a row, three in a row , they shouted loudly, almost everyone brandished clubs, some brandished command knives, there was no order, but all of them were united, sometimes chaotic, sometimes in line.Some detachments chose their leaders, and one man, with two pistols openly on his shoulders, seemed to be reviewing his procession, and the procession left the funeral procession ahead of him.In the side streets of the main road, on the branches, on the balconies, on the windows, and on the roofs, people swarmed like ants. Men, women, and children had anxious expressions in their eyes.A group of armed men walked by, and everyone watched in panic.

The government watched from the sidelines.It rested its hand on the hilt and watched.People can see, on the Place Louis XV, there are four carbine companies, long guns and short muskets, all loaded, full magazines, everyone riding on saddles, bugle leader, everything is ready and ready for action; In the district of the Latin Quarter and the Botanic Gardens, the security police stood guard from street to street; in the wine market there was a squadron of dragoons, and in the Place Greve there was half the 12th Regiment of Hussars, the other half at the Bastille, The Sixth Dragoon Regiment was in Zelestin, and the courtyard of the Louvre was full of artillery.The rest of the army was in the barracks, not counting the regiments around Paris.The fearful government put 24,000 soldiers in the urban area and 30,000 soldiers in the suburbs on top of the angry crowd.

Various gossip circulated in the funeral procession.Some spoke of the intrigues of the Legitimists; others of the Duke of Rechstadt, whom God demanded to die when the people were counting on him to rise and rebuild the empire.An unnamed person spread the word that in due time two foremen who had been won over would open the gates of a weapons factory to the people.What stood out the most was that most of the people in the ranks already showed an expression of excitement and depression on their faces.This great crowd, already excited and impatient for some violent and noble deed, was occasionally mingled with a few vulgar, indeed gangster-like faces, saying, "Grab!" A pool of clear water stirred up a burst of mud from the bottom.This phenomenon is not at all surprising to a "well-run" police station.

The funeral procession walked slowly from the mansion of the deceased to the Place de la Bastille through several main roads with excited and heavy steps.It rained from time to time, and people didn't mind it at all.Several accidents happened: as the hearse rounded the Monument to Vendôme, the Duke of Fitz James was found standing on a balcony with his hat on, and stones were thrown at him; A Gallic rooster was pulled out and dragged through the mud; a gendarme was stabbed with a sword at the Porte Saint-Martin; It's a Republican", students of the polytechnic school, who suddenly appeared after the mandatory detention, and people shouted: "Viva! Viva republic!" These are some of the tidbits that happened during the funeral procession.The menacing crowd, like the torrent of a river, the back wave pushes the front wave, came down from the suburb of Saint-Antoine, reached the Bastille, and joined the funeral procession, a turbulent and terrifying momentum began to make the crowd more excited up.

One was heard saying to another: "You see that man with the little red beard under his chin, he's the one who will tell everyone when to shoot later." In the Keenissey incident, this little red beard was responsible for the same task. The hearse passed the Bastille, followed the canal, crossed the bridge, and arrived at the Austerlitz Bridge.It stops here.At this time, the flow of people, if seen from the sky, looks like a comet, with its head at the bridgehead, its tail expanding from the Bourdon River, covering the Bastille Square, and then extending along the boulevard to the Saint-Martin Gate.A large crowd surrounded the hearse.The rioting crowd suddenly fell silent.Lafayette delivered a speech, saying goodbye to Lamarque.It was a moment of poignant majesty, when all hats were off, and all hearts were beating.Suddenly a man in black appeared in the crowd on a horse, holding a red flag, some say a spear, with a red hat on the tip.Lafayette turned around.Egerzelman left the team.

The red flag raised a storm and was gone.From the Bourdon boulevard to the Austerlitz bridge, the crowd was stirred like a roaring tide.Two particularly high-pitched shouts rose into the air: "Lamarck to the Pantheon! Lafayette to the city hall!" A group of young people immediately pushed Lamarck in the hearse to Austerlitz Bridge, led Lafayette's carriage along the banks of the Morlan River. Among the cheering crowd around Lafayette, a German named Ludwig Snydale, who fought in the War of 1776 and was Renton fought under Washington, and at Brantywin under Lafayette, and lived to be a hundred years old.

At this moment, on the left bank of the river, the cavalry of the city government rushed to the bridge to block the way, and on the right bank, the dragoons came out of Zeles Ding and spread out along the banks of the Morlan River.The crowd with Lafayette on their arms at the bend of the river suddenly saw them and shouted: "Dragoons! Dragoons!" The dragoons advanced slowly and silently, with their pistols in their holsters and their sabers in their sheaths. , with the short gun in the butt holster, watching with a gloomy expression. They stopped two hundred paces from the bridge.The carriage that Lafayette was sitting in was in front of them, and they made way to both sides to let the carriage pass, and then closed again.Then the dragoons and the crowd came face to face.The women fled in panic.

What happened in this critical moment?No one can figure it out.It was a dark moment when two dark clouds met.Some said they heard the sound of the charge over the arsenal, others that a boy gave a dagger to a dragoon.The fact is that three shots were fired suddenly, the first shot killed the squadron leader Zhuo Lei, the second shot killed a deaf old woman who was closing the window in Contescarpe Street, and the third shot scratched an officer's face. epaulets.A woman shouted: "It's too early to do it!" Suddenly, a squadron of dragoons was seen rushing out of the barracks on the opposite side of the Morlan River, holding sabers, passing through the Rue Bassombier and the Boulevard Bourdon, sweeping across the area. everything.

At this point, the storm blew up, and things were irreversible.Stones flew, gunshots rang out, and many people jumped down the bank, round the now-filled section of the Seine, the Île Louvier, the huge ready-made fortress, which was full of soldiers, and some pulled up wooden stakes. , some fired pistols, and a barricade was formed. The young people who were driven back, holding the hearse, galloped all the way across the Austerlitz Bridge, rushing towards the security police team, the carbines rushed, The dragoons cut down on everyone, the crowd fled in all directions, and from all sides of Paris there was a cry of battle, everyone shouted: "Take up arms!" The people ran, rushed, fled, and resisted.Anger fanned riots as the wind fanned fire.