During the last two years, as we have said, Paris had witnessed more than one insurrection. Nothing is, generally, more singularly calm than the physiognomy of Paris during an uprising beyond the bounds of the rebellious quarters. Paris very speedily accustoms herself to anything,--it is only a riot,--and Paris has so many affairs on hand, that she does not put herself out for so small a matter. These colossal cities alone can offer such spectacles. These immense enclosures alone can contain at the same time civil war and an odd and indescribable tranquillity. Ordinarily, when an insurrection commences, when the shop-keeper hears the drum, the call to arms, the general alarm, he contents himself with the remark:--
"There appears to be a squabble in the Rue Saint-Martin."
Or:--
"In the Faubourg Saint-Antoine."
Often he adds carelessly:--
"Or somewhere in that direction."
Later on, when the heart-rending and mournful hubbub of musketry and firing by platoons becomes audible, the shopkeeper says:--
"It's getting hot! Hullo, it's getting hot!"
A moment later, the riot approaches and gains in force, he shuts up his shop precipitately, hastily dons his uniform, that is to say, he places his merchandise in safety and risks his own person.
Men fire in a square, in a passage, in a blind alley; they take and re-take the barricade; blood flows, the grape-shot riddles the fronts of the houses, the balls kill people in their beds, corpses encumber the streets. A few streets away, the shock of billiard-balls can be heard in the cafes.
The theatres open their doors and present vaudevilles; the curious laugh and chat a couple of paces distant from these streets filled with war. Hackney-carriages go their way; passers-by are going to a dinner somewhere in town. Sometimes in the very quarter where the fighting is going on.
In 1831, a fusillade was stopped to allow a wedding party to pass.
At the time of the insurrection of 1839, in the Rue Saint-Martin a little, infirm old man, pushing a hand-cart surmounted by a tricolored rag, in which he had carafes filled with some sort of liquid, went and came from barricade to troops and from troops to the barricade, offering his glasses of cocoa impartially,--now to the Government, now to anarchy.
Nothing can be stranger; and this is the peculiar character of uprisings in Paris, which cannot be found in any other capital. To this end, two things are requisite, the size of Paris and its gayety. The city of Voltaire and Napoleon is necessary.
On this occasion, however, in the resort to arms of June 25th, 1832, the great city felt something which was, perhaps, stronger than itself. It was afraid.
Closed doors, windows, and shutters were to be seen everywhere, in the most distant and most "disinterested" quarters. The courageous took to arms, the poltroons hid. The busy and heedless passer-by disappeared. Many streets were empty at four o'clock in the morning.
Alarming details were hawked about, fatal news was disseminated,-- that they were masters of the Bank;--that there were six hundred of them in the Cloister of Saint-Merry alone, entrenched and embattled in the church; that the line was not to be depended on; that Armand Carrel had been to see Marshal Clausel and that the Marshal had said: "Get a regiment first"; that Lafayette was ill, but that he had said to them, nevertheless: "I am with you. I will follow you wherever there is room for a chair"; that one must be on one's guard; that at night there would be people pillaging isolated dwellings in the deserted corners of Paris (there the imagination of the police, that Anne Radcliffe mixed up with the Government was recognizable); that a battery had been established in the Rue Aubry le Boucher; that Lobau and Bugeaud were putting their heads together, and that, at midnight, or at daybreak at latest, four columns would march simultaneously on the centre of the uprising, the first coming from the Bastille, the second from the Porte Saint-Martin, the third from the Greve, the fourth from the Halles; that perhaps, also, the troops would evacuate Paris and withdraw to the Champ-de-Mars; that no one knew what would happen, but that this time, it certainly was serious.
People busied themselves over Marshal Soult's hesitations. Why did not he attack at once? It is certain that he was profoundly absorbed. The old lion seemed to scent an unknown monster in that gloom.
Evening came, the theatres did not open; the patrols circulated with an air of irritation; passers-by were searched; suspicious persons were arrested. By nine o'clock, more than eight hundred persons had been arrested, the Prefecture of Police was encumbered with them, so was the Conciergerie, so was La Force.
At the Conciergerie in particular, the long vault which is called the Rue de Paris was littered with trusses of straw upon which lay a heap of prisoners, whom the man of Lyons, Lagrange, harangued valiantly. All that straw rustled by all these men, produced the sound of a heavy shower. Elsewhere prisoners slept in the open air in the meadows, piled on top of each other.
Anxiety reigned everywhere, and a certain tremor which was not habitual with Paris.
People barricaded themselves in their houses; wives and mothers were uneasy; nothing was to be heard but this: "Ah! my God! He has not come home!" There was hardly even the distant rumble of a vehicle to be heard.
People listened on their thresholds, to the rumors, the shouts, the tumult, the dull and indistinct sounds, to the things that were said: "It is cavalry," or: "Those are the caissons galloping," to the trumpets, the drums, the firing, and, above all, to that lamentable alarm peal from Saint-Merry.
They waited for the first cannon-shot. Men sprang up at the corners of the streets and disappeared, shouting: "Go home!" And people made haste to bolt their doors. They said: "How will all this end?" From moment to moment, in proportion as the darkness descended, Paris seemed to take on a more mournful hue from the formidable flaming of the revolt.
两年以来，我们已提到过，巴黎见过的起义不止一次。除了起义的地区以外，巴黎在暴动时期的面貌一般总是平静到出奇的。巴黎能很快习惯一切；那不过是一场暴动，并且巴黎有那么多事要做，它不会为那一点点事而大惊小怪。这些庞大的城市单凭自己就可以提供种种表演。这些广阔的城市单凭自己就可同时容纳内战和那种说不上是种什么样的奇怪的宁静。每当起义开始，人们听到集合或告警的鼓声时，店铺的老板照例只说一声：
“圣马尔丹街好象又在闹事了。”
或者说：
“圣安东尼郊区。”
常常，他漫不经心地加上一句：
“就在那一带。”
过后，当人们听到那种阴惨到令人心碎的稀疏或密集的枪声时，那老板又说：
“认起真来了吗？是啊，认起真来了！”
再过一阵，如果暴动到了近处，势头也更大了，他便连忙关上店门，赶快穿上制服，这就是说，保障他货物的安全，拿他自己去冒险。
人们在十字路口、通道上、死胡同里相互射击，街垒被占领，被夺回，又被占领；血流遍地，房屋的门墙被机枪扫射得弹痕累累，睡在床上的人被流弹打死，尸体布满街心。在相隔几条街的地方，人们却能听到咖啡馆里有象牙球在球台上撞击的声音。
好奇的人在离这些战火横飞的街道两步远的地方谈笑风生，戏院都敞开大门，演着闹剧。出租马车穿梭来往，过路的人进城宴饮，有时就在交火的地区。一八三一年，有一处射击忽然停了下来，让一对新婚夫妇和他们的亲友越过火线。
在一八三九年五月十二日的那次起义中，圣马尔丹街上有个残废的小老头，拉着一辆手推车，车上载着一些盛满某种饮料的瓶子，上面盖着一块三色破布，从街垒走向军队，又从军队走向街垒，一视同仁地来回供应着一杯又一杯的椰子汁，时而供给政府，时而供给无政府主义。
再没有什么比这更奇特的了，而这就是巴黎暴动所独具的特征，是任何其他都城所没有的。为此，必须具备两件东西：
巴黎的伟大和它的豪兴。必须是伏尔泰和拿破仑的城市。
可是在一八三二年六月五日的这次武装反抗中，这个大城市感到了某种也许比它自己更强大的东西。它害了怕。人们看见，在那些最远和最“无动于衷”的区里，门、窗以及板窗在大白天也都关上了。勇敢的拿起了武器，胆小的躲了起来。街上已见不到那种不闻不问、单为自己奔忙的行人。许多街道都象早晨四点钟那样，不见人影。大家都唠唠叨叨地谈着一些惊人的新闻，大家都散播着一些生死攸关的消息，说什么“他们已是国家银行的主人”，“仅仅在圣美里修院，他们就有六百人，在教堂里挖了战壕并筑了工事”，“防线是不牢固的”，“阿尔芒·加莱尔①去见克洛塞尔②元帅，元帅说：‘您首先要调一个联队来’”，“拉斐德在害病，然而他对他们说：‘我和你们在一起。我会跟着你们去任何地方，只要那里有摆一张椅子的地方’”，“应随时准备好，晚上会有人在巴黎的荒僻角落里抢劫那些孤零零的人家（在此我们领教了警察的想象，这位和政府混在一起的安娜·拉德克利夫③）”，“奥白利屠夫街设了炮兵阵地”，“罗博和毕若已商量好，午夜或至迟到黎明，就会有四个纵队同时向暴动的中心进攻，第一队来自巴士底，第二队来自圣马尔丹门，第三队来自格雷沃，第四队来自菜市场区；军队也许会从巴黎撤走，退到马尔斯广场；谁也不知道会发生什么事，但是，这一次，肯定是严重的”，“大家对苏尔特元帅的犹豫不决都很关心”，“他为什么不立即进攻？”“肯定他是高深莫测的。这头老狮子好象在黑暗中嗅到了一只无名的怪兽”。
①阿尔芒·加莱尔（ArmandCarrel，1800?836），法国资产阶级政论家，自由派，《国民报》的创办人之一和编辑。
②克洛塞尔（BertrandClausel，1772?842），伯爵，法国将军，一八三一年起是元帅，一八○九年至一八一四年参加比利牛斯半岛战争，后任阿尔及利亚总督（1830?831和1835?837）。
③安娜·拉德克利夫（AnneRadcliffe，1764?823），英国女作家，著有一些描写秘密罪行的小说。
傍晚时分到了，戏院都不开门，巡逻队，神情郁怒，在街上来回巡视，行人被搜查，形迹可疑的遭逮捕。九点钟已经逮捕了八百人，警署监狱人满，刑部监狱人满，拉弗尔斯监狱人满。特别是在刑部监狱，在人们称为巴黎街的那条长地道里铺满了麦秆，躺在那上面的囚犯挤成了堆，那个里昂人，拉格朗日①，正对着囚犯们大胆地发表演说。这些人躺在这些麦秆上，一动起来，就发出一阵下大雨的声音。其他监狱里的囚犯，都一个压着一个，睡在敞开的堂屋里。处处空气紧张，人心浮动，这在巴黎是少有的。
①拉格朗日（CharlesLagrange），在里昂建立“进步社”，一八三四年他领导里昂工人起义。
在自己的家里人也都采取了防御措施。做母亲的，做妻子的，都惴惴不安，只听见她们说：“啊，我的天主！他还没有回来！”难得听到一辆车子在远处滚动。人们立在大门口听着那些隐隐传来的、不清晰的鼓噪、叫喊、嘈杂的声音，他们说：“这是马队走过。”或者说：“这是装弹药箱的马车在跑。”他们听到军号声、鼓声、枪声，最揪心的是圣美里的警钟声。人们等待着第一声炮响。一些拿着武器的人忽然出现在街角，喊道：“回家去，你们！”随即又不见了。大家赶紧推上门闩说道：“几时才闹得完啊？”随着夜色的逐渐加深，巴黎暴动的火焰好象也越来越显得阴惨骇人了。