In the spring of 1832, Paris was still in the mood that had long been on the verge of scarcity, although the cholera of three months had halted the mental activity of the people and cast a gloomy death over their agitation.

The big city is like a cannon, the gunpowder is already loaded, and it will explode when the spark falls. In June 1832, the spark set as scheduled, and General Lamarck died.

General Lamarck was a man of prestige and achievement. He showed the bravery required in those two periods, the imperial period and the dynastic restoration, one on the battlefield and the one on the pulpit. His eloquence was no less than his courage back then, and they felt that there was a sharp sword in his words. Like his old man's Fuwa, he raised the banner of freedom after he raised it.

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

On the fifth of June, the day of General Lamarck's burial, the first rays of the morning sun shone on the Seine, and the suburb of Saint-Anthony, which the funeral procession was passing through, was churning like boiling water.

This chaotic area of streets is full of people. Arm yourself as much as you can. Some carpenters brought the iron clips they had on the table to pry back the door.

One of them removed the hook from the iron hook that contained the sole of the shoe and sharpened it into a dagger.

When the carpenter next to him saw this, he was about to get up and leave, and his companion asked him, "Where are you going?" ”

"I don't have a weapon yet."

"Where are you going?"

"On the construction site, I've got to get my footsteps."

A delivery man bought ten su of wine, and when he saw any worker, he had to say, "Do you have a guy?" ”

"Nope."

"Go to Fesbier's house, he lives between the Porte de Montreuil and the Porte de Charona, where you can get guys, there are guns and ammunition."

In Barthélemy's shop near the Gate of the Throne and in Capel's Little Hat Tavern, people with serious faces could be seen everywhere, and they gathered in a group of secret conversations.

"Did you bring a gun?"

"In my sleeve. What about you? ”

"In my shirt pocket."

After drinking, the workers began to wait on the corner of Belcy Street for a man named Le Marlan, who was the Republican liaison on the outskirts of San Marceau. All the passwords were communicated publicly, without the slightest intention to conceal them, and everyone knew that Paris was about to revolutionize again.

On that morning, the sky was sometimes clear, sometimes raining, and General Lamarck's coffin was surrounded by an army guard of honor through Paris. Just like the workers, the strings in the government's head are always tight.

The army honor guard escorting the coffin was clearly not of normal size, two battalions, the marching drums were covered with black veils, and the soldiers carried their guns backwards. They were followed by the National Guard with knives at their waists, and their artillery corps accompanied the coffins. The locomotive was towed by a team of young people, and the officers of the Paris Disabled Veterans College followed closely behind the locomotive, holding laurel branches, a symbol of peace and tranquility.

And along the road, behind the convoy, there is an endless crowd of people, whose heads are crowded like ants.

Members of the Society of Friends of the People, students of the Faculties of Law, Medicine, Letters, exiles from various countries, carpenters, stonemasons, printers who are on strike. Flags of Spain, Italy, Germany, Poland, horizontal tricolors, flags of all kinds.

They shouted loudly, some wielding clubs, some wielding command knives, and some unabashedly flapping the two pistols at their waists, sometimes chaotic, sometimes in order, but all as one.

On the balconies, windows, and roofs of houses facing the street, on the side of the street, on the branches of trees, men, women, and children, their eyes were full of uneasiness, and they watched in panic as this group of people with weapons walked past.

On Place Louis XV, the government's four carbine cavalry companies were already on standby, all on board, with long guns and short guns, all loaded and bullet bags hung in the saddle.

In the Latin Quarter and the Jardin des Plantes, the security police of the Grand Paris Metropolitan Police Department, led by Vidocq, stood guard street after street.

A squadron of dragoons was deployed at the Parisian wine market, and half of the 12th Hussar Wing was on guard at Place Grevo, while the other half was deployed to the Bastille.

The 6th Dragoon Wing was stationed in Zelestin, and the Louvre compound was crowded with artillery units, while the rest of the army was on standby in the barracks.

And that's not even counting the United teams on the outskirts of Paris.

As long as the situation is not right, the fearful government is ready to press the 24,000 soldiers in the urban area and the 30,000 soldiers in the suburbs on the heads of the angry masses.

When the government dispatched troops, all kinds of gossip were circulating in the funeral procession.

While some were talking privately about the Orthodox machination, the Bonapartist was talking about the Duke of Rechstadt of Austria, Napoleon's son, King of Rome, who had high hopes that he would stand up and lead the French people back to the glory of the Empire.

Someone whispered that later today, two won foremen 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 a few foul-mouthed faces that look like gangsters, and they say, "Let's rob them!" ”

As the locomotive went around the Vendôme monument, Duke Fitz James, a representative of the ultra-royalists, was standing on a balcony wearing a hat and threw a number of stones at him.

The Gallic rooster on a flagpole was plucked down and dragged away in the sludge. At the Porte Saint-Martin, a gendarme was stabbed with a sword, and an officer of the 12th Hussar Wing shouted in a loud voice: "I am a Republican." ”

Students from the comprehensive engineering school suddenly appeared after being ordered by the school authorities to stay on campus and not go out, and people shouted: "Hooray! Long live the republic! ”

The menacing crowd, like the torrent of a river, pushed the front by the back waves, from the suburbs of St. Anthony to the Bastille, and joined the funeral procession, and this terrifying sound of churning and shaking made the crowd even more excited.

The crowd runs from the bridgehead to the Bourdon River, to the Place de la Bastille, and down the boulevard to the Porte Saint-Martin.

As the funeral began, the noisy crowd suddenly fell silent, and Lafayette took the stage to give a speech and bid Lamarck farewell. On this solemn occasion, all took off their hats and all their hearts were pounding.

Suddenly, a man in black appeared in the crowd on horseback, holding a red flag in his hand, which caused a storm from the Bourdon boulevard to the Austerlitz Bridge, roaring like a tidal wave.

The youths, cheering, pushed Lamarck in the locomotive to the Osterz bridge, and pulled Lafayette's carriage along the Morrand River.

On the left bank of the Morlang River, the horse corps of the municipality blocked the way at the bridgehead, and the dragoons on the right bank drove out from Zelestin. The youths who followed Lafayette spotted them and shouted: "Dragoons! Dragoons! ”

The dragoons marched slowly, silently, their guns in their holsters, their sabers in their sheaths, their carbines in their butt holsters, and they watched the crowd with gloomy expressions.

Lafayette came to them in a carriage, and the dragoons made way to the sides to allow the carriage to pass, and then closed again. They confronted the crowd two hundred paces away, and the strong smell of gunpowder caused the women to flee in panic.

After that, there were many opinions in Paris, some of which said that the Arsenal sounded the trumpet, and that some said that a child gave the dragoon a dagger. But no matter what, the fact is that suddenly three gunshots rang out at the scene.

The first shot killed the leader of the dragoon squadron, the second killed a deaf old woman who was closing a window on the streets of Conteskalpool, and the third shot broke the epaulettes of an officer.

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

But it was too late to say this, and the sound of horses' hooves was heard, and a whole squadron of dragoons rushed out of the barracks by the Morlang River, and they raised their sabers like a raging hurricane, sweeping everything away.

Stones flew wildly, gunshots rang out, and many people jumped under the riverbank, some pulled stakes, some opened pistols, and a barricade was formed. In the years when he was repatriated, he pulled the locomotive, ran away, crossed the Austerlitz Bridge, and rushed towards the security police team.

Four companies of carbines charged, the dragoons slashed and killed every man they saw, and the crowd fled in all directions, and in a moment the roar and flames were set on all sides of Paris.

In June 1832, the revolution broke out again.

Victor Hugo, 5 June 1832, Paris.

……

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

Tensions in Paris are still rising against the backdrop of poor agricultural harvests amid the threat of death and disease. There was a flame of anger and hatred in everyone's eyes, and in recent times, I didn't even dare to go out in a police uniform alone, and the townspeople believed in the rumors of the police's poisoning.

I knew that if they found a lone policeman on the street, they would be given a beating.

But in these extraordinary times, when the police force is already stretched to the limit, we have to carry out many other orders to cooperate with the actions of the National Guard and the army. And when the enemy is outnumbered, in many cases, we have to give in to mass events.

We all joked in private: "Cholera has taken a lot of lives, not to mention, if you don't get it right, it will bury Louis Philippe's new dynasty together." ”

All discerning people know that the funeral of General Lamarck could very well have become the trigger for the uprising.

On the 5th of June, my boys and I mingled into the funeral procession in casual clothes, and sure enough, I learned a lot of unexpected news, which I passed back in time. And the most fortunate thing about the bad news is that we learn that the Orthodox dynastic faction is not involved, this time only the republicans and Bonapartians are closely united.

The republicans can walk with the Bonapartas, heh! What a strange thing.

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

I followed them to the funeral site and saw a man in black on a horse appear in the square holding a red flag, and that's when I realized that something was wrong. Sure enough, the crowd began chanting the tsunami-like slogan "Long live the republic".

I immediately gave the boys a look and asked them to follow me back to the National Police Agency headquarters immediately.

However, what everyone did not expect was that this riot would immediately escalate into a rebellion and seizure of power in a short period of time.

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

The insurgents, armed with guns of all kinds, opened heavy fire on us. With my intimate knowledge of the Parisian street network, I led the boys to a few barricades in the old town, arresting and detaining some militants and rebels holding banners with seditious slogans.

Hum! It's not me bragging, the whole map of Paris, every dark alley, every alley is engraved on my heart by François Vidocq.

Truth be told, however, the terrible streets of Paris should have been renovated for the most part of the streets, which were so narrow that only stone and stakes were needed to build barricades, and it only took seven or eight men with good marksmanship to easily stop the advance of about a company.

Everyone knows that storming the barricades in this situation is to send them to death, and the soldiers are not willing to go up in vain to give their lives, so they let the citizen volunteers in the National Guard take the top, but no one is stupid, and these volunteers are also unwilling to be cannon fodder to block the eye.

The situation throughout the city was very complicated, and I saw that some isolated outposts had no choice but to surrender to the insurgents when they were unable to receive support.

On the way I also met my old friend, the Comte de Bondy, the chief executive of the Seine, who was running around with a few servants being chased around by the rebels, and for whom the journey to the town hall office was too far away.

Luckily, however, a horse-drawn cab happened to pass by, and I pushed him into the carriage and assigned Vakur to keep him safe. While Vakul didn't perform well in last year's London operation, this time he did a good job and lived up to my expectations of him, huh...... Maybe I should consider applying for a commendation on his behalf.

I took the rest of the boys all the way back to headquarters, and just as I entered the door, I bumped into Director Zhisokai.

It could be seen that he was a little panicked.

Although he had always denied the predictions of political commentators predicting the inevitable fall of Louis Philippe's dynasty, he could not deny the current scene of smoke in Paris.

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

I escorted him, personally scouting and exploring the way along the way. When passing a government sentry post, the soldiers had to look at the chief's identity papers, otherwise they would say nothing and would not let them go. But they recognized me, and for the sake of fifty francs and my fame, they finally let me go.

No sooner had we arrived at the Tuileries Palace than we learned that His Majesty Louis Philippe, having learned of the situation in Paris, had rushed back to Paris from the Château de Compiègne with the Queen and Princess Adelaide. Had it not been for this uprising, he would have received the visiting Belgian king Leopold I in Compiègne.

Although His Majesty the King may seem pathetic, and he does not have the domineering spirit of a king at all, I still have to applaud him for personally riding his horse back from Nay to the front line to direct the operation of the capital, which at least shows his responsibility as a king.

I am glad that I was a comrade-in-arms in the same army as the king when I was young, and that even after all these years, he did not lose the courage to face difficulties because of his comfortable life and high position.

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

However, during the one-hour commute between the palace and the National Police headquarters, our headquarters on Jerusalem Road was attacked by the insurgents. Fortunately, however, our remaining officers held their positions.

Before I had time to catch my breath, I led the men from the Île de la Cité to the right bank of the Seine. As far as I know, the center of the commotion was in the Saint-Meri district, where the streets were so narrow that they could only be passed by a single person, so the cavalry suffered heavy casualties here.

When I arrived, I found that some of the rebels were already drinking and celebrating, and the streets were full of drunks. Of course, not all of them are like this, and some of them are guarding the barricades.

My boys and I had been fighting for hours, and we were all in tatters and dirty, but there was a sharp-eyed figure in the ranks of the rebels who recognized me. All of a sudden, the rifles were aimed at us.

My God! I was so scared!

I heard bullets flying over our heads, and our scalps were cold.

We shouted and beat us like rats crossing the street, and I fled with the boys. We made our way back to headquarters in disarray, asking the Director for an increase in our firepower, and I promised him that if I could arm my security department, I would soon be able to quell the riot.

But Žisokie apparently didn't believe me, because not long ago even the headquarters of the Grand Paris Police Department was surrounded by those rebels. I saw that he would not give me guns and ammunition, so I had to take my brothers back to the security department.

Along the way, we disguised ourselves and followed the rebels closely, sometimes joining them in their attacks, because I found out that the government troops were stationed outside the Ministry of Security building, which made me wonder if the army guys had ulterior motives. After all, nothing can be trusted in Paris, and you can't do without a sense of defense.

In the second half of the night, the snipers of the insurgents fired aimlessly into the Sant-La Chapelle compound of the Ministry of Security, but he didn't shoot anything, because I wouldn't be stupid enough to stand there and target him.

I spent most of the night cruising around the neighborhood, and during the day, there wasn't much going on up and down the Grand Paris Police Department. The entire Île de la Cité has been turned into a fortified fortress by the rebels, and an attack is imminent.

The information was handed over to the town hall, but there was no reply. I took the initiative to go to the town hall and retrieve the report of the Count of Bondi, and thank God I had put him in the rental carriage yesterday.

As I hurried back, I passed by the beach square and found that the government troops were fighting with the rebels, but I was able to return safely through the smoke of gunpowder.

After a night, the honest and timid inhabitants of the Île de la Cité, whether they wanted to or not, had to heed the call of the criminals to join them in their uprising.

And the army, apparently, could not be counted on to control the situation on the Île de la Cité in this situation. So, once again, I asked 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 began to mobilize volunteers, and all the officers of the security department gathered under my banner. These lads were very valiant and they made it clear that wherever I commanded, they would charge.

Their oath even alarmed the soldiers and horses who were resting in the compound of the Ministry of Security, and eight strong cavalrymen rushed over and demanded to join me.

At this time, the island of the Cité was full of rabble: thieves, lazymen, hooligans, prostitutes, jailers, I don't know why, but the area seemed to be full of this waste of eating white food, and their numbers far outnumbered those of the republicans and Bonapartist political parties.

The men were huddled together and tightly encircled under the command of a former naval gunner named Edward Columbut.

Scold! Maybe some people are scared of this environment, but I am different. I was born to be in this chaotic environment, and danger is the climate that suits me best. It was only at this critical juncture that I could truly find myself.

I set out, with my 28-man commando, to take Columbutt and his minions headed.

We found the kid at the intersection of Jewish Street and White Spirit Street, where he was directing his men to set up a barricade. I pretended to be a passer-by, chatted with him kindly, and then kicked him in his private parts while he was not looking, knocked him to the ground, and arrested him.

Seeing this, the assault teammates also rushed forward one after another, and subdued all the minions on the spot.

A few minutes ago, these scum were still fighting with the soldiers, but they didn't expect that in the blink of an eye, the opponent was changed to plainclothes police, and they fell into an ice cave.

There were 15 villains at the head of the bridge who occupied a sentry post, and when they saw me coming alone with a pipe in my mouth, they were immediately frightened. I just shouted at them: "I'm François Vidocq, you're not going to surrender?" ”

They scattered in fright, scurrying in a group of rats, shouting, "Run!" The boss is here, Vidocq is here! ”

With Columbert out of the leader, the rest was much easier, and we quickly captured five barricades and handed them over to the government forces and the National Guard, and their way into the Île de la Cité was finally cleared.

But what I didn't expect was that these bastards couldn't do a good job of suppression, and their eyes were not fucking good. A group of soldiers mistook me for a mob and fired a volley at me. But fortunately, they were not as trained as the soldiers of the Napoleonic period, so not a single bullet hit.

The crisis in the Île de la Cité was thus lifted, and I am glad that at such a moment, I have done something for this country. However, I also regret it, for I have heard that in the mainland city, the Cathedral of Saint-Merry witnessed a massacre, in which General Lédet's soldiers killed people on sight in the process of clearing those important barricades. Men and women, young and old.

I think I deserve a commendable deserve credit for my actions, but that's the way the world is. I've always thought that the Tribune, the Republican newspaper, may have been too unkind in its evaluation of me.

- Why did the great insurrectionary movement end in failure? Why can't the rebellion succeed? This is because the government is playing with power, and the police are vicious and insidious. But the most fundamental of these is the perfidy on the banner of the uprising. It may be a symbol of ugliness to some, and absurdity to others. The reason why the notorious Vidocq and his gang of bandits did not stand out and defend their throne was because they did not sail under the flag of the people in that storm. Republicans could not believe that Vidocq had played a decisive role in suppressing the uprising. Whenever I think that Louis Philippe was able to return to the Tuileries Palace, it was because of the support of Vidocq, the legendary demon policeman, that they could not be more disturbed.

Scold! These republicans, they don't care much about soldiers in military uniforms raising butcher knives against them, but they are always careful about plainclothes cops like me. I don't understand, it's not good to be in prison, but isn't it good for me to let you live?

Although many of the people in prison will eventually be sentenced to death, isn't it the fault of the republican leaders, Lafayette, and other big men? Why didn't he defend you? What are Lafayettes doing when you're making a fuss?

As far as I know, it looks like he left Paris in a car.

François Vidocq, Paris, July 25, 1832.

(End of chapter)