Shadow of great britain

In the spring of 1832, although three months of cholera had halted the mental activity of the people and cast an indescribable layer of gloomy death over their excitement, Paris was still in the state of that long-standing condition. In a triggering emotion.

This big city is like a cannon that has been loaded with gunpowder and is just waiting for a spark to fall before it explodes. In June 1832, the spark fell as expected, and General Lamarck died.

General Lamarck was a man of great reputation and accomplishment. During the Empire and the Restoration, he demonstrated the bravery required in those two periods: bravery on the battlefield and bravery in the pulpit. His eloquence was no less than his bravery back then, and we felt that there was a sharp sword in his words. Just like his elder Foy, after holding high the flag of command, he also held high the flag of freedom.

His death was originally expected. The people regarded his death as a loss and were afraid of his death. The government regarded his death as a crisis and were afraid of his death. This kind of death is a kind of sadness. Like any pain, grief can turn into rebellion.

June 5th was the day when General Lamarck was buried. When the first ray of sunshine in the morning illuminated the waves of the Seine, the suburb of Saint-Antoine, which the funeral procession was passing through, began to boil like boiling water.

This chaotic area with criss-crossing streets is bustling with people. They were armed as much as possible. Some carpenters brought iron clamps from their workbench to pry the door open.

One of them used the iron hook on the sole of his shoe to remove the hook and polish it into a dagger.

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

"I don't have a weapon yet."

"Where are you going to do it?"

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

A delivery boy bought ten sous worth of wine and would strike up a conversation with any workman he saw: "Do you have any guys?"

"No."

"Go to Fessbier's house. He lives between the Porte de Montreuil and the Porte de Chalonne. You can get guys there. There are guns and ammunition."

In Barthelemy's shop near the Throne Gate and in Capel's Little Hat Tavern, people with serious faces drinking wine could be seen everywhere, gathering together for secret conversations.

"Do you have a gun?"

"In my sleeve. What about you?"

"In my shirt pocket."

After finishing their drinks, the workers began to wait on the corner of Rue Bercy for a man named Lemaulin, who was the republican liaison in the suburb of Saint-Marceau. All the passwords were communicated openly, with no intention of concealing anything. Everyone knew that there was going to be another revolution in Paris.

On this morning, the sky turned sunny and rainy, and General Lamarck's coffin passed through Paris surrounded by an army honor guard. Just like the workers, the government's minds are constantly on edge.

The army honor guard escorting the coffin was obviously not of normal size, consisting of two battalions. The marching drums were covered with black gauze, and the soldiers carried their guns backwards. They were followed closely by the National Guardsmen with knives on their belts, and their artillery batteries accompanied the coffin. The hearse was pulled by young people from the team, and officers from the Paris Invalid Veterans Hospital followed closely behind the hearse, holding laurel branches symbolizing peace and tranquility.

On the road along the way, behind the convoy, there were endless crowds of people, their heads moving like ants.

Members of the Society of Friends of the People, students from law schools, medical schools, and liberal arts colleges, exiles from various countries, carpenters, masons, and printing workers who are on strike. Spanish, Italian, German, Polish flags, horizontal striped tricolors, all kinds of flags.

They shouted loudly, some waved sticks, some waved command knives, and some unabashedly slapped the two pistols on their waists. Sometimes they were chaotic, sometimes in lines, without order, but they were united.

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

In the Place Louis XV, the government's four companies of carbineers were on standby. They were all mounted, with long guns and short cannons, all bullets loaded, and the bullet bags hanging on the saddles were filled to the brim.

In the Latin Quarter and the Botanical Gardens, the security police of the Grand Paris Police Department led by Vidocq stood guard in sections one after another.

A squadron of dragoons was deployed in the Paris Wine Market. Half of the 12th Hussars were on guard at Place Greve, and the other half were sent to the Bastille.

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

And that's not even counting the teams outside Paris.

As long as something goes wrong, the fearful government is always ready to put 24,000 soldiers in the city and 30,000 soldiers in the suburbs to bear down on the angry masses.

While the government was dispatching troops and generals, various gossips were also circulating in the funeral procession.

Some are talking privately about the conspiracy of the Orthodox, while the Bonapartists are talking about the Duke of Rechstadt in Austria, the son of Napoleon, the King of Rome. They have high hopes for him, hoping that he can stand up and lead the French people to reappear. The glory of the empire.

Someone whispered to everyone that later today, two foremans won over would open the doors of the weapons factory to the people from within. This news instantly ignited everyone, and they were eager to do something violent and noble.

Of course, there are occasionally some people who speak vulgarly and look like gangsters. They say: "Let us rob!"

When the hearse passed around the Vendôme Monument, it found Duke Fitz James, a representative of the ultra-royalists, standing on a balcony wearing a hat, and many stones were thrown at him.

A Gallic rooster was plucked from a flagpole and dragged through 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."

Students from the Comprehensive Engineering School suddenly appeared after they were ordered by the school to stay in school and were not allowed to go out. People shouted: "Long live! Long live the Republic!"

The menacing crowd was like the torrent of a river, with the back wave pushing the front wave away. From the suburbs of Saint-Antoine to the Bastille, they joined the funeral procession. This roiling and shocking momentum made the crowd even more excited. .

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

The funeral began, and the noisy crowd suddenly fell silent. Lafayette took the stage to give a speech and bid farewell to Lamarque. At this solemn moment all hats were taken off, and all hearts were beating.

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 Bourdon Boulevard to Austerlitz Bridge, the noise was like the sea tide. roar.

A group of young people, amidst bursts of applause, pushed Lamarck in the hearse to the Austerz Bridge, and walked along the Morlan River with Lafayette's carriage in his arms.

On the left bank of the Morlang River, the city government's cavalry blocked the way at the bridge, while the dragoons on the right bank came out from Zelesdine. The young men following Lafayette discovered them and shouted: "Dragoons! Dragoons!"

The dragoons advanced slowly and silently, with their guns in their holsters, their sabers in their scabbards, and their carbines in their butt holsters, looking at the crowd with a gloomy expression.

Lafayette came to them in a carriage. The dragoons opened a path to both sides to let the carriage pass, and then closed it again. They faced off with the crowd at a distance of 200 steps. The strong smell of gunpowder made the women flee in panic.

There are different opinions in Paris about what happened next. Some said that a charge was sounded in the arsenal, while others said that a child gave the dragoon a dagger. But no matter what, the fact is that three gunshots were fired suddenly at the scene.

The first shot killed Zhuo Lei, the leader of the dragoon squadron, the second shot killed an old deaf woman who was closing the window on Contescarp Street, and the third shot damaged the epaulette of an officer.

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

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 military camp by the Moran River. They raised their sabers high, like a violent hurricane, sweeping everything away.

Stones flew randomly, gunfire rang out, many people jumped to the river bank, some pulled out wooden stakes, some fired pistols, and a barricade was formed. Those years of being driven back, holding the hearse, Lu ran away across the Austerlitz Bridge and rushed towards the security police team.

Four companies of carbineers launched a charge. The dragoons slashed and killed everyone they encountered. The crowd fled in all directions. For a moment, all sides of Paris were ignited by roars and flames.

In June 1832, 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.

Tensions continued to rise in Paris amid threats of death and disease, and against a backdrop of agricultural failure. Everyone's eyes showed the flames of anger and hatred. Recently, I didn't even dare to go out alone in a police uniform. The common people believed the police poisoning rumors.

I know that if they find a lone policeman on the street, a beating would be regarded as God's favor.

But in such an extraordinary period, when the police force has been stretched to the limit, we have to execute many other orders to cooperate with the actions of the National Guard and the army. And when we are outnumbered, many times we have to give in to mass incidents.

We all joked privately: "Not only has cholera claimed a large number of lives, but if it doesn't work, it will also ruin the new dynasty of Louis Philippe."

Everyone with eyes knows that the funeral of General Lamarck is very likely to be the trigger of the uprising.

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

The republicans and the Bonapartists can go together, ha! What a strange thing.

They seem to think that Napoleon's name represents democracy and freedom, and this signal of democracy and freedom was sent from St. Helena, Napoleon's place of exile.

I followed them to the funeral site and saw a man in black riding a horse appearing in the square holding a red flag. That's when I realized something was wrong. Sure enough, the crowd began to chant "Long Live the Republic" like a tsunami.

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

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

On the evening of June 5, the streets and alleys of Paris were covered with barricades, and everyone was armed. Around 8 p.m., roadblocks were erected on the city's main roads.

The rebels held all kinds of guns and fired fiercely at us. Relying on my thorough knowledge of the Paris street network, I led the boys to build several barricades in the old city. I was caught off guard and arrested and detained some militants and rebels holding high incitement slogans.

snort! I am not bragging, the entire map of Paris, every secret passage and alley is engraved on my heart, François Vidocq.

But to be honest, the terrible streets in Paris should be renovated and renovated. Most of the streets are very narrow. They only need to pile up roadblocks with stones and wooden piles. It only takes seven or eight people with good marksmanship. Blocking the advance of about a company of troops.

Everyone knows that under such circumstances, forcing one to storm the barricade will lead to death. The soldiers did not want to go up and die in vain, so they let the citizen volunteers from the National Guard attack. But no one is a fool, and these volunteers are also unwilling to be used as cannon fodder to block the blockade. Eye-catching.

The situation in the entire city was very complicated. I saw some isolated sentries surrendering to the insurrectionists without support.

I also met my old friend on the road, Count Bundy, the top administrator of the Seine District. He and a few servants were driven around by the rebels. For him, the journey to the city hall office was too difficult. It's too far away.

Fortunately, a taxi passed by at this time. I pushed him into the carriage and sent Vakul to protect his safety. Although Vakul performed poorly in last year's London operation, he completed the task very well this time and lived up to my expectations of him. Well... maybe I should consider applying for a commendation on his behalf.

I led the remaining boys all the way back to the headquarters, and bumped into Director Risoke as soon as I entered the door.

It could be seen that he was a little panicked.

Although he has always refused to admit the remarks of those political commentators who predicted the inevitable collapse of the Louis Philippe dynasty, the current scene of smoke everywhere in Paris cannot help but admit it.

He planned to go to the Tuileries Palace to discuss countermeasures with the Prime Minister and the Cabinet, but he was worried about the fire of rifles in the streets. I knew my chance to perform had come.

I escorted him and personally took the lead in reconnaissance and exploration along the way. When passing a government military post, the soldiers had to check the ID of the director, otherwise they would not let him go. But 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. Were it not for this uprising, he would have received the visiting King Leopold I of Belgium at Compiègne.

Although His Majesty the King looks very pathetic and does not have the domineering power of a king at all, I still have to applaud him for personally riding his horse back from Neuilly to direct the operations of the capital. This at least shows his responsibility as a king.

I am very happy that I was a comrade in the same army as the king when I was young, and even after so many years, he has not lost the courage to face difficulties because of his comfortable life and lofty status.

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

However, during the hour we were traveling between the palace and the police headquarters, our headquarters on Jerusalem Road was attacked by insurrectionists. Fortunately, our remaining police officers held their position.

Before I had time to take a breath, I led the people around from Ile de la Cité to the right bank of the Seine. As far as I know, the center of the commotion was in the Saint-Méry district. The streets here 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 drinking and celebrating, and the streets were full of drunkards. Of course, not everyone is like this, some of them are 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, the rifles were all pointed at us.

Oh, God! I was really scared out of my mind!

I heard the bullets whizzing past our heads, and my scalp felt cold.

We were like rats crossing the street, everyone yelled and beat us, and I ran away with the boys. We returned to the headquarters in embarrassment and asked the director to improve our firepower configuration. I assured him that as long as my security department was fully armed, I would be able to quell the riot soon.

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

Along the way, we dressed up in disguise, followed closely behind the insurrectionists, and sometimes joined in their attacks, because I found government troops stationed outside the building of the Ministry of Security, which made me doubt the military's Do you have any ulterior motives for helping this guy? After all, in Paris, nothing is trustworthy, so be on guard.

Throughout the second half of the night, a sniper from the rebels fired aimlessly at the Saint-La Chapelle compound of the Ministry of Security, but he didn't hit anything, because I wouldn't stand there stupidly and give him a shot. Be a target.

I spent most of the night cruising around, and during the day, things were not going well up and down the Grand Paris Police Department. The entire Ile de la Cité has been built into a fortress by the rebel team, and the attack is imminent.

The information was handed over to the city hall, but there was no response. I volunteered again and went to the city hall to get Earl Bundy's report. Thank God I had packed him into the cab yesterday.

When I was rushing back, I passed by the beach square and found that the government troops were having a lively fight with the insurgents, but I still managed to get through the smoke and return safely.

After one night, the honest and timid residents of Ile de la Cité, whether willing or unwilling, had to answer the call of the criminals and join their uprising.

As for the army, they obviously cannot be expected to control the situation on the Ile de la Cité under such circumstances. Therefore, I asked again for my security department to take the lead.

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

After receiving the approval, I immediately started mobilizing volunteers. All police officers from the Security Department heard the news and gathered under my banner. These young men are very brave. They made it clear that they will charge wherever I command them.

Their oaths even alerted the soldiers and horses who were resting in the compound of the Security Ministry. Eight strong cavalrymen also rushed over and asked to join my command.

At this time, in Ile de la Cité, all the gangsters in every corner of the city were out: thieves, lazy men, hooligans, prostitutes, and those who had been in prison. I don’t know why, but this area seems to be full of freeloaders like this. Trash, their numbers far outnumber those of the republican and Bonapartist political partisans.

The men huddled together under the command of a former Navy gunner named Edward Columbus.

Ah! Maybe some people are afraid of this kind of environment, but I am different. I was born to fit into this chaotic environment, and danger is the climate that suits me best. Only in this critical moment can I truly find myself.

I set off, with my 28-man commando force, to kill Colombo and his minions.

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

When the assault teammates saw this, they also rushed forward and subdued all the minions on the spot.

A few minutes ago, these scumbags were vigorously competing with the soldiers, but they did not expect that in the blink of an eye, their opponents would be plainclothes policemen, and they were as if they were falling into an ice cave.

There were 15 thugs occupying a guard post at the bridge. When they saw me walking alone with a pipe in my mouth, they were immediately frightened. I just shouted at them: "I am François Vidoc, don't you surrender?"

They were so frightened that they fled in all directions, scurrying around in groups, shouting loudly: "Run! The boss is here, Vidocq is here with his people!"

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

But what I didn't expect was that these bastards couldn't suppress them well, and their eyes were damn bad. 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 during the Napoleonic period, so not a single bullet hit.

The crisis in Ile de la Cité has been resolved in this way. I am very happy that I have done something for this country at such a moment. However, I am also very sorry, because I heard that in the mainland city, St. Merry's Cathedral witnessed a massacre. General Ledet's soldiers killed everyone on sight while clearing those important roadblocks. No matter men, women or children.

I think I deserve a pat on the back for my actions, but that's the way the world is. I have always thought that the Republican newspaper, the Tribune, might have used too harsh a word in its assessment of me.

——Why did the great uprising end in failure? Why can't the rebellion succeed? This is because the government is playing tricks of power and the police are vicious and insidious. But the most fundamental thing is the treachery on the flag of the uprising. To some it is a symbol of ugliness, to others it may be absurd. The reason why the notorious Vidocq and his gang of gangsters remained calm and tried to maintain their throne was because they did not sail under the flag of the people in that storm. The Republicans refused to believe that Vidocq played a decisive role in suppressing the uprising. Whenever they think that Louis Philippe was able to return to the Tuileries Palace because of the support of Vidocq, the legendary demon policeman, nothing could be more troublesome for them.

Ah! This group of republicans don't care much about soldiers in military uniforms raising butcher knives against them, but they always care about plainclothes policemen like me. I don't understand. It's uncomfortable to go to jail, but isn't it good that I let you live?

Although many people in prison will eventually be sentenced to death, isn't that the fault of the Republican leaders, Lafayette and other big shots like you? Why doesn't he defend you? What were Lafayette and the others doing while you were making such a fuss?

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

François Vidocq, July 25, 1832, in Paris.