They proclaimed right furiously; they were desirous, if only with fear and trembling, to force the human race to paradise.
They seemed barbarians, and they were saviours.
They demanded light with the mask of night.
Facing these men, who were ferocious, we admit, and terrifying, but ferocious and terrifying for good ends, there are other men, smiling, embroidered, gilded, beribboned, starred, in silk stockings, in white plumes, in yellow gloves, in varnished shoes, who, with their elbows on a velvet table, beside a marble chimney-piece, insist gently on demeanor and the preservation of the past, of the Middle Ages, of divine right, of fanaticism, of innocence, of slavery, of the death penalty, of war, glorifying in low tones and with politeness, the sword, the stake, and the scaffold.
For our part, if we were forced to make a choice between the barbarians of civilization and the civilized men of barbarism, we should choose the barbarians.
But, thank Heaven, still another choice is possible.
No perpendicular fall is necessary, in front any more than in the rear.
Neither despotism nor terrorism.
We desire progress with a gentle slope.
God takes care of that.
God’s whole policy consists in rendering slopes less steep.
CHAPTER VI—ENJOLRAS AND HIS LIEUTENANTS
It was about this epoch that Enjolras, in view of a possible catastrophe, instituted a kind of mysterious census.
All were present at a secret meeting at the Cafe Musain.
Enjolras said, mixing his words with a few half-enigmatical but significant metaphors:—
“It is proper that we should know where we stand and on whom we may count.
If combatants are required, they must be provided.
It can do no harm to have something with which to strike.
Passers-by always have more chance of being gored when there are bulls on the road than when there are none.
Let us, therefore, reckon a little on the herd.
How many of us are there?
There is no question of postponing this task until to-morrow.
Revolutionists should always be hurried; progress has no time to lose.
Let us mistrust the unexpected.
Let us not be caught unprepared.
We must go over all the seams that we have made and see whether they hold fast.
This business ought to be concluded to-day.
Courfeyrac, you will see the polytechnic students.
It is their day to go out. To-day is Wednesday.
Feuilly, you will see those of the Glaciere, will you not?
Combeferre has promised me to go to Picpus.
There is a perfect swarm and an excellent one there.
Bahorel will visit the Estrapade.
Prouvaire, the masons are growing lukewarm; you will bring us news from the lodge of the Rue de Grenelle-Saint-Honore.
Joly will go to Dupuytren’s clinical lecture, and feel the pulse of the medical school.
Bossuet will take a little turn in the court and talk with the young law licentiates.
I will take charge of the Cougourde myself.”
“That arranges everything,” said Courfeyrac.
“No.”
“What else is there?”
“A very important thing.”
“What is that?” asked Courfeyrac.
“The Barriere du Maine,” replied Enjolras.
Enjolras remained for a moment as though absorbed in reflection, then he resumed:—
“At the Barriere du Maine there are marble-workers, painters, and journeymen in the studios of sculptors.
They are an enthusiastic family, but liable to cool off.
I don’t know what has been the matter with them for some time past.
They are thinking of something else.
They are becoming extinguished.
They pass their time playing dominoes.