Another said: “I don’t ask for six months, I don’t ask for even two.
In less than a fortnight we shall be parallel with the government.
With twenty-five thousand men we can face them.”
Another said: “I don’t sleep at night, because I make cartridges all night.”
From time to time, men “of bourgeois appearance, and in good coats” came and “caused embarrassment,” and with the air of “command,” shook hands with the most important, and then went away.
They never stayed more than ten minutes.
Significant remarks were exchanged in a low tone: “The plot is ripe, the matter is arranged.”
“It was murmured by all who were there,” to borrow the very expression of one of those who were present.
The exaltation was such that one day, a workingman exclaimed, before the whole wine-shop: “We have no arms!”
One of his comrades replied: “The soldiers have!” thus parodying without being aware of the fact, Bonaparte’s proclamation to the army in Italy:
“When they had anything of a more secret nature on hand,” adds one report, “they did not communicate it to each other.”
It is not easy to understand what they could conceal after what they said.
These reunions were sometimes periodical.
At certain ones of them, there were never more than eight or ten persons present, and they were always the same.
In others, any one entered who wished, and the room was so full that they were forced to stand.
Some went thither through enthusiasm and passion; others because it was on their way to their work.
As during the Revolution, there were patriotic women in some of these wine-shops who embraced newcomers.
Other expressive facts came to light.
A man would enter a shop, drink, and go his way with the remark: “Wine-merchant, the revolution will pay what is due to you.”
Revolutionary agents were appointed in a wine-shop facing the Rue de Charonne.
The balloting was carried on in their caps.
Workingmen met at the house of a fencing-master who gave lessons in the Rue de Cotte.
There there was a trophy of arms formed of wooden broadswords, canes, clubs, and foils.
One day, the buttons were removed from the foils.
A workman said: “There are twenty-five of us, but they don’t count on me, because I am looked upon as a machine.”
Later on, that machine became Quenisset.
The indefinite things which were brewing gradually acquired a strange and indescribable notoriety.
A woman sweeping off her doorsteps said to another woman: “For a long time, there has been a strong force busy making cartridges.”
In the open street, proclamation could be seen addressed to the National Guard in the departments.
One of these proclamations was signed: Burtot, wine-merchant.
One day a man with his beard worn like a collar and with an Italian accent mounted a stone post at the door of a liquor-seller in the Marche Lenoir, and read aloud a singular document, which seemed to emanate from an occult power.
Groups formed around him, and applauded.
The passages which touched the crowd most deeply were collected and noted down. “—Our doctrines are trammelled, our proclamations torn, our bill-stickers are spied upon and thrown into prison.”—“The breakdown which has recently taken place in cottons has converted to us many mediums.”—“The future of nations is being worked out in our obscure ranks.”—“Here are the fixed terms: action or reaction, revolution or counter-revolution.
For, at our epoch, we no longer believe either in inertia or in immobility.
For the people against the people, that is the question.
There is no other.”—“On the day when we cease to suit you, break us, but up to that day, help us to march on.”
All this in broad daylight.
Other deeds, more audacious still, were suspicious in the eyes of the people by reason of their very audacity.
On the 4th of April, 1832, a passer-by mounted the post on the corner which forms the angle of the Rue Sainte-Marguerite and shouted: “I am a Babouvist!”
But beneath Babeuf, the people scented Gisquet.
Among other things, this man said:—
“Down with property!
The opposition of the left is cowardly and treacherous.
When it wants to be on the right side, it preaches revolution, it is democratic in order to escape being beaten, and royalist so that it may not have to fight.
The republicans are beasts with feathers.
Distrust the republicans, citizens of the laboring classes.”
“Silence, citizen spy!” cried an artisan.
This shout put an end to the discourse.
Mysterious incidents occurred.
At nightfall, a workingman encountered near the canal a “very well dressed man,” who said to him: