Part 4 Book 10 Chapter 3 A Burial; an Occasion to be born ag

In the spring of 1832, although the cholera had been chilling all minds for the last three months and had cast over their agitation an indescribable and gloomy pacification, Paris had already long been ripe for commotion. As we have said, the great city resembles a piece of artillery; when it is loaded, it suffices for a spark to fall, and the shot is discharged.In June, 1832, the spark was the death of General Lamarque.

Lamarque was a man of renown and of action. He had had in succession, under the Empire and under the Restoration, the sorts of bravery requisite for the two epochs, the bravery of the battle-field and the bravery of the tribune. He was as eloquent as he had been valiant; a sword was discernible in his speech. Like Foy, his predecessor, after upholding the command, he upheld liberty; he sat between the left and the extreme left, beloved of the people because he accepted the chances of the future, beloved of the populace because he had served the Emperor well; he was, in company with Comtes Gerard and Drouet, one of Napoleon's marshals in petto. The treaties of 1815 removed him as a personal offence. He hated Wellington with a downright hatred which pleased the multitude; and, for seventeen years, he majestically preserved the sadness of Waterloo, paying hardly any attention to intervening events. In his death agony, at his last hour, he clasped to his breast a sword which had been presented to him by the officers of the Hundred Days. Napoleon had died uttering the word army, Lamarque uttering the word country.

His death, which was expected, was dreaded by the people as a loss, and by the government as an occasion. This death was an affliction. Like everything that is bitter, affliction may turn to revolt. This is what took place.

On the preceding evening, and on the morning of the 5th of June, the day appointed for Lamarque's burial, the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, which the procession was to touch at, assumed a formidable aspect. This tumultuous network of streets was filled with rumors. They armed themselves as best they might. Joiners carried off door-weights of their establishment "to break down doors." One of them had made himself a dagger of a stocking-weaver's hook by breaking off the hook and sharpening the stump. Another, who was in a fever "to attack," slept wholly dressed for three days. A carpenter named Lombier met a comrade, who asked him: "Whither are you going?" "Eh! well, I have no weapons." "What then?" "I'm going to my timber-yard to get my compasses." "What for?" "I don't know," said Lombier. A certain Jacqueline, an expeditious man, accosted some passing artisans: "Come here, you!" He treated them to ten sous' worth of wine and said: "Have you work?" "No." "Go to Filspierre, between the Barriere Charonne and the Barriere Montreuil, and you will find work." At Filspierre's they found cartridges and arms. Certain well-known leaders were going the rounds, that is to say,running from one house to another, to collect their men. At Barthelemy's, near the Barriere du Trone, at Capel's, near the Petit-Chapeau, the drinkers accosted each other with a grave air. They were heard to say: "Have you your pistol?" "Under my blouse." "And you?" "Under my shirt." In the Rue Traversiere, in front of the Bland workshop, and in the yard of the Maison-Brulee, in front of tool-maker Bernier's, groups whispered together. Among them was observed a certain Mavot, who never remained more than a week in one shop, as the masters always discharged him "because they were obliged to dispute with him every day." Mavot was killed on the following day at the barricade of the Rue Menilmontant. Pretot, who was destined to perish also in the struggle, seconded Mavot, and to the question: "What is your object?" he replied: "Insurrection." Workmen assembled at the corner of the Rue de Bercy, waited for a certain Lemarin, the revolutionary agent for the Faubourg Saint-Marceau. Watchwords were exchanged almost publicly.

On the 5th of June, accordingly, a day of mingled rain and sun, General Lamarque's funeral procession traversed Paris with official military pomp, somewhat augmented through precaution. Two battalions,with draped drums and reversed arms, ten thousand National Guards, with their swords at their sides, escorted the coffin. The hearse was drawn by young men. The officers of the Invalides came immediately behind it, bearing laurel branches. Then came an innumerable, strange, agitated multitude, the sectionaries of the Friends of the People, the Law School, the Medical School, refugees of all nationalities, and Spanish, Italian, German, and Polish flags, tricolored horizontal banners, every possible sort of banner, children waving green boughs, stone-cutters and carpenters who were on strike at the moment, printers who were recognizable by their paper caps, marching two by two, three by three, uttering cries, nearly all of them brandishing sticks, some brandishing sabres, without order and yet with a single soul, now a tumultuous rout, again a column. Squads chose themselves leaders; a man armed with a pair of pistols in full view, seemed to pass the host in review, and the files separated before him. On the side alleys of the boulevards, in the branches of the trees, on balconies, in windows, on the roofs, swarmed the heads of men, women, and children; all eyes were filled with anxiety. An armed throng was passing, and a terrified throng looked on.

The Government, on its side, was taking observations. It observed with its hand on its sword. Four squadrons of carabineers could be seen in the Place Louis XV. In their saddles, with their trumpets at their head, cartridge-boxes filled and muskets loaded, all in readiness to march; in the Latin country and at the Jardin des Plantes, the Municipal Guard echelonned from street to street; at the Halle-aux-Vins, a squadron of dragoons; at the Greve half of the 12th Light Infantry, the other half being at the Bastille;the 6th Dragoons at the Celestins; and the courtyard of the Louvre full of artillery. The remainder of the troops were confined to their barracks, without reckoning the regiments of the environs of Paris. Power being uneasy, held suspended over the menacing multitude twenty-four thousand soldiers in the city and thirty thousand in the banlieue.

Divers reports were in circulation in the cortege. Legitimist tricks were hinted at; they spoke of the Duc de Reichstadt, whom God had marked out for death at that very moment when the populace were designating him for the Empire. One personage, whose name has remained unknown, announced that at a given hour two overseers who had been won over, would throw open the doors of a factory of arms to the people. That which predominated on the uncovered brows of the majority of those present was enthusiasm mingled with dejection. Here and there, also, in that multitude given over to such violent but noble emotions, there were visible genuine visages of criminals and ignoble mouths which said: "Let us plunder!" There are certain agitations which stir up the bottoms of marshes and make clouds of mud rise through the water. A phenomenon to which "well drilled" policemen are no strangers.

The procession proceeded, with feverish slowness, from the house of the deceased, by way of the boulevards as far as the Bastille. It rained from time to time; the rain mattered nothing to that throng. Many incidents, the coffin borne round the Vendome column, stones thrown at the Duc de Fitz-James, who was seen on a balcony with his hat on his head, the Gallic cock torn from a popular flag and dragged in the mire, a policeman wounded with a blow from a sword at the Porte Saint-Martin, an officer of the 12th Light Infantry saying aloud:"I am a Republican," the Polytechnic School coming up unexpectedly against orders to remain at home, the shouts of: "Long live the Polytechnique! Long live the Republic!" marked the passage of the funeral train. At the Bastille, long files of curious and formidable people who descended from the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, effected a junction with the procession, and a certain terrible seething began to agitate the throng. One man was heard to say to another: "Do you see that fellow with a red beard, he's the one who will give the word when we are to fire." It appears that this red beard was present, at another riot, the Quenisset affair, entrusted with this same function.

The hearse passed the Bastille, traversed the small bridge, and reached the esplanade of the bridge of Austerlitz. There it halted. The crowd, surveyed at that moment with a bird'seye view, would have presented the aspect of a comet whose head was on the esplanade and whose tail spread out over the Quai Bourdon, covered the Bastille, and was prolonged on the boulevard as far as the Porte Saint-Martin. A circle was traced around the hearse. The vast rout held their peace. Lafayette spoke and bade Lamarque farewell. This was a touching and august instant, all heads uncovered, all hearts beat high.

All at once, a man on horseback, clad in black, made his appearance in the middle of the group with a red flag, others say, with a pike surmounted with a red liberty-cap. Lafayette turned aside his head. Exelmans quitted the procession.

This red flag raised a storm, and disappeared in the midst of it. From the Boulevard Bourdon to the bridge of Austerlitz one of those clamors which resemble billows stirred the multitude. Two prodigious shouts went up: "Lamarque to the Pantheon!-- Lafayette to the Town-hall!" Some young men, amid the declamations of the throng, harnessed themselves and began to drag Lamarque in the hearse across the bridge of Austerlitz and Lafayette in a hackney-coach along the Quai Morland.

In the crowd which surrounded and cheered Lafayette, it was noticed that a German showed himself named Ludwig Snyder, who died a centenarian afterwards, who had also been in the war of 1776, and who had fought at Trenton under Washington, and at Brandywine under Lafayette.

In the meantime, the municipal cavalry on the left bank had been set in motion, and came to bar the bridge, on the right bank the dragoons emerged from the Celestins and deployed along the Quai Morland. The men who were dragging Lafayette suddenly caught sight of them at the corner of the quay and shouted: "The dragoons!" The dragoons advanced at a walk, in silence, with their pistols in their holsters, their swords in their scabbards, their guns slung in their leather sockets, with an air of gloomy expectation.

They halted two hundred paces from the little bridge. The carriage in which sat Lafayette advanced to them, their ranks opened and allowed it to pass, and then closed behind it. At that moment the dragoons and the crowd touched. The women fled in terror. What took place during that fatal minute? No one can say. It is the dark moment when two clouds come together. Some declare that a blast of trumpets sounding the charge was heard in the direction of the Arsenal others that a blow from a dagger was given by a child to a dragoon. The fact is, that three shots were suddenly discharged: the first killed Cholet, chief of the squadron, the second killed an old deaf woman who was in the act of closing her window, the third singed the shoulder of an officer; a woman screamed: "They are beginning too soon!" and all at once, a squadron of dragoons which had remained in the barracks up to this time, was seen to debouch at a gallop with bared swords, through the Rue Bassompierre and the Boulevard Bourdon, sweeping all before them.

Then all is said, the tempest is loosed, stones rain down, a fusillade breaks forth, many precipitate themselves to the bottom of the bank, and pass the small arm of the Seine, now filled in, the timber-yards of the Isle Louviers, that vast citadel ready to hand, bristle with combatants, stakes are torn up, pistol-shots fired, a barricade begun, the young men who are thrust back pass the Austerlitz bridge with the hearse at a run, and the municipal guard, the carabineers rush up, the dragoons ply their swords, the crowd disperses in all directions, a rumor of war flies to all four quarters of Paris, men shout: "To arms!" they run, tumble down, flee, resist. Wrath spreads abroad the riot as wind spreads a fire.

一八三二年春，尽管三个月以来的霍乱已使人们精神活动停止，并在他们激动心情上蒙上一层说不上是什么的阴沉的死气，巴黎仍处于长期以来就有的那种一触即发的情绪中。正如我们先前说过的，这个大城市就象一尊大炮，火药已经装上，只待一粒火星落下便会爆炸。在一八三二年六月，那粒火星便是拉马克将军之死。

拉马克将军是个有声望也有作为的人。他在帝国时期和王朝复辟时期先后表现了那两个时期所需要的勇敢：战场上的勇敢和讲坛上的勇敢。他那雄辩的口才不亚于当年的骁勇，人们感到他的语言中有一把利剑。正如他那老一辈的富瓦一样，他在高举令旗以后，又高举着自由的旗帜。他坐在左与极左之间，人民爱他，因为他接受未来提供的机会，群众爱他，因为他曾效忠于皇上。当初和热拉尔伯爵和德鲁埃伯爵一道，他是拿破仑的那几个小元帅之一。一八一五年的条约把他气得七窍生烟，如同受了个人的侮辱。他把威灵顿恨之入骨，因而为群众所喜爱，十七年来他几乎不过问这其间的多次事件，他岿然不动地把滑铁卢的痛史铭刻心中。他在弥留时，在那最后一刻，把百日帝政时期一些军官赠给他的一把剑紧抱在胸前。拿破仑在临终时说的是“军队”，拉马克临终时说的是“祖国”。

他的死，原是预料中的，人民把他的死当作一种损失而怕他死，政府把他的死当作一种危机而怕他死。这种死，是一种哀伤。象任何苦痛一样，哀伤可以转化为反抗。当日发生的情形正是这样。

六月五日是拉马克安葬的预定日期，在那天的前夕和早晨，殡仪行列要挨边路过的圣安东尼郊区沸腾起来了。这个街道纵横交错的杂乱地区，处处人声鼎沸。人们尽可能地把自己武装起来。有些细木工带上他们工作台上的铁夹“去撬门”。他们中的一个用一个鞋匠用来引线的铁钩，去掉钩子，磨尖钱柄，做了一把匕首。另一个，急于要“动手”，一连和衣躺了三夜。一个叫龙比埃的木工，遇见一个同行问他：“你去哪儿？”

“我呀！我还没有武器。”“咋办呢？”“我到工地上去取我的两脚规。”“干什么？”“不知道。”龙比埃说。一个叫雅克林的送货工人，遇见任何一个工人便和他谈：“你跟我来。”他买十个苏的酒，还说：“你有活计吗？”“没有。”“到费斯比埃家里去，他住在蒙特勒伊便门和夏罗纳便门之间，你在那里能找到活计。”费斯比埃家里有些子弹和武器。某些知名的头头，“搞着串连”，就是说，从这家跑到那家，集合他们的队伍。在宝座便门附近的巴泰勒米的店里和卡佩尔的小帽酒店里，那些喝酒的人，个个面容严肃，聚在一起密谈。有人听到他们说：“你的手枪在哪里？”“在我的褂子里。你呢？”“在我的衬衣里。”在横街的罗兰作坊前面，在一座着过火的房子的院里，工具工人贝尼埃的车间前，一堆堆的人在低声谈论。在那群人里有个最激烈的人，叫马福，他从来没有在同一个车间里做上一个星期，所有的老板都不留他，“因为每天都得和他争吵。”马福第二天便死在梅尼孟丹街的街垒里。在同一次战斗中被打死的卜雷托，是马福的助手，有人问他：“你的目的是什么？”他回答说：“起义。”有些工人聚集在贝尔西街的角上，等候一个叫勒马兰的人，圣马尔索郊区的革命工作人员。口令几乎是公开传达的。

六月五日那天，时而下雨，时而放晴，拉马克将军的殡葬行列，配备了正式的陆军仪仗队，穿过巴黎，那行列是为了预防不测而稍微加强了的。两个营，鼓上蒙着黑纱，倒背着枪，一万国民自卫军，腰上挂着刀，国民自卫军的炮队伴随着棺材。柩车由一队青年牵引着。残废军人院的军官们紧跟在柩车后面，手里握着桂树枝。随后跟着的是无穷无尽的人群，神情急躁，形状奇特，人民之友社的社员们、法学院、医学院、一切国家的流亡者，西班牙、意大利、德国、波兰的国旗，横条三色旗，各色各样的旗帜，应有尽有，孩子们挥动着青树枝，正在罢工的石匠和木工，有些人头上戴着纸帽，一望而知是印刷工人，两个一排，三个一排地走着，他们大声叫喊，几乎每个人都挥舞着棍棒，有些挥舞着指挥刀，没有秩序，可是万众一心，有时混乱，有时成行。有些小队推选他们的领头人，有一个人，毫不隐讳地佩着两支手枪，好象是在检阅他的队伍，那队人便在他前面离开了送葬行列。在大路的横街里、树枝上、阳台上、窗口上、屋顶上，人头象蚂蚁一样攒动，男人、妇女、小孩，眼睛里充满了不安的神情。一群带着武器的人走过去，大家惊惊慌慌地望着。

政府从旁注视着。它手按在剑柄上注视着。人们可以望见，在路易十五广场上，有四个卡宾枪连，长枪短铳，子弹全上了膛，弹盒饱满，人人骑在鞍上，军号领头，一切准备就绪，待命行动；在拉丁区和植物园一带，保安警察队从一条街到一条街，分段站岗守卫着；在酒市有一中队龙骑兵，格雷沃广场有第十二轻骑联队的一半，另一半在巴士底，第六龙骑联队在则助斯定，卢浮宫的大院里全是炮队。其余的军队在军营里，巴黎四周的联队还没计算在内。提心吊胆的政府，在市区把二万四千士兵，在郊区把三万士兵，压在横眉怒目的群众头上。

送葬行列里流传着种种不同的小道消息。有的谈着正统派的阴谋；有的谈到雷希施塔特公爵①，正当人民大众指望他起来重建帝国时，上帝却一定要他死去。一个没有暴露姓名的人传播消息说，到了一定时候有两个被争取过来的工头，会把一个武器工厂的大门向人民开放。最突出的是，在这行列中，大多数人的脸上都已流露出一种既兴奋又颓丧的神情。这一大群人已激动到了急于要干出些什么暴烈而高尚的行动来，其中也偶尔搀杂着几张出言粗鄙、确象歹徒的嘴脸，他们在说着：“抢！”某些骚动可以搅浑一池清水，从池底搅起一阵泥浆。这种现象，对“办得好”的警署来说，是一点也不会感到奇怪的。

①雷希施塔特公爵（Reichstadt），拿破仑之子，即罗马王，又称拿破仑第二，病死于一八三二年。　

送葬行列从死者的府邸，以激动而沉重的步伐，经过几条大路，慢慢走到了巴士底广场。天不时下着雨，人们全不介意。发生了几件意外的事：柩车绕过旺多姆纪念碑时，有人发现费茨·詹姆斯公爵①站在一个阳台上，戴着帽子，便向他扔了不少石块；有一根旗杆上的高卢雄鸡②被人拔了下来，在污泥里被拖着走；在圣马尔丹门，有个宪兵被人用剑刺伤；第十二轻骑联队的一个军官用很大的声音说“我是个共和党人”，综合工科学校的学生，在强制留校不许外出之后突然出现，人们高呼：“万岁！共和万岁！”这是发生在送葬行列行进中的一些花絮。气势汹汹的赶热闹的人群，象江河的洪流，后浪推前浪，从圣安东尼郊区走下来，走到巴士底，便和送葬队伍汇合起来，一种翻腾震荡的骇人声势开始把人群搞得更加激动了。

①费茨·詹姆斯公爵（Fitz－James，1776?838），法兰西世卿及极端保王派。

②法国在资产阶级大革命时期，旗杆顶上装一只雄鸡，名为高卢雄鸡，这种装饰，到拿破仑帝国时期被取消了，到一八三○年菲力浦王朝时期又被采用。

人们听到一个人对另一个说：“你看见那个下巴下有一小撮红胡子的人吧，等会儿告诉大家应在什么时候开枪的人便是他。”据说后来在引起另一次暴动的凯尼赛事件中，担任同一任务的也是这个小红胡子。

柩车经过了巴士底，沿着运河，穿过小桥，到达了奥斯特里茨桥头广场。它在这里停下来了。这时，那股人流，如果从空中鸟瞰，就活象彗星，头在桥头广场，尾从布尔东河沿开始扩展，盖满巴士底广场，再顺着林荫大道一直延伸到圣马尔丹门。柩车的四周围着一大群人。哗乱的人群忽然静了下来。拉斐德致词，向拉马克告别。那是一种动人心弦的庄严时刻，所有的人都脱下帽子，所有的心都在怦怦跳动。突然有个穿黑衣骑在马上的人出现在人群中，手里擎着一面红旗，有些人说是一根长矛，矛尖顶着一顶红帽子。拉斐德转过头来。埃格泽尔芒①离开了队伍。

①埃格泽尔芒（Exelmans，1775B1852），法国元帅。　

这面红旗掀起了一阵风暴，随即不见了。从布尔东林荫大道到奥斯特里茨桥，人声鼓噪有如海潮咆哮，人群动荡起来了。两声特别高亢的叫喊腾空而起：“拉马克去先贤祠！拉斐德去市政府！”一群青年，在大片叫好声中，立即动手将柩车里的拉马克推向奥斯特里茨桥，挽着拉斐德的马车顺着莫尔朗河沿走去。

在围着拉斐德欢呼的人群中，人们发现一个叫路德维希·斯尼代尔的德国人，并把他指给大家看，那人参加过一七七六年的战争，在特伦顿在华盛顿的指挥下作战，在布朗蒂温，在拉斐德的指挥下作战，后来活到一百岁。

这时在河的左岸，市政府的马队赶到桥头挡住去路，在右岸龙骑兵从则肋斯定开出来，顺着莫尔朗河沿散开。挽着拉斐德的人群在河沿拐弯处，突然看见他们，便喊道：“龙骑兵！龙骑兵！”龙骑兵缓步前进，一声不响，手枪插在皮套里，马刀插在鞘里，短枪插在枪托套里，神色阴沉地观望着。

离开小桥两百步的地方，他们停下来了。拉斐德坐的马车直到他们面前，他们向两旁让出一条路，让马车通过，继又合拢。这时龙骑兵和群众就面对面了。妇女们惊慌失措地逃散了。

在这危急时刻发生了什么事呢？谁也搞不清楚。那是两朵乌云相遇的阴暗时刻。有人说听到在兵工厂那边响起了冲锋号，也有人说是有个孩子给一个龙骑兵一匕首。事实是突然连响三枪，第一枪打死了中队长灼雷，第二枪打死了孔特斯卡尔浦街上一个正在关窗的聋老妇，第三枪擦坏了一个军官的肩章。有个妇人喊道：“动手太早了！”人们忽然看见一中队龙骑兵从莫尔朗河沿对面的兵营里冲了出来，举着马刀，经过巴松比尔街和布尔东林荫大道，横扫一切。

到此，风暴大作，事已无可挽回。石块乱飞，枪声四起，许多人跳到河岸下，绕过现已填塞了的那段塞纳河湾，卢维耶岛，那个现成的巨大堡垒上聚满了战士，有的拔木桩，有的开手枪，一个街垒便形成了，被撵回的那些青年，挽着柩车，一路飞跑，穿过奥斯特里茨桥，向着保安警察队冲去，卡宾枪连冲来了，龙骑兵逢人便砍，群众向四面八方逃散，巴黎的四面八方都响起了投入战斗的吼声，人人喊着：“拿起武器！”人们跑着，冲撞着，逃着，抵抗着。怒火鼓起了暴动，正如大风煽扬着烈火。