Bossuet muttered in Combeferre’s ear: 'He did not answer my question. ' 'He is a man who does good by gun-shots,' said Combeferre. Those who have preserved some memory of this already distant epoch know that the National Guard from the suburbs was valiant against insurrections.
It was particularly zealous and intrepid in the days of June, 1832.
A certain good dram-shop keeper of Pantin des Vertus or la Cunette, whose 'establishment' had been closed by the riots, became leonine at the sight of his deserted dance-hall, and got himself killed to preserve the order represented by a tea-garden.
In that bourgeois and heroic time, in the presence of ideas which had their knights, interests had their paladins. The prosiness of the originators detracted nothing from the bravery of the movement. The diminution of a pile of crowns made bankers sing the Marseillaise.
They shed their blood lyrically for the counting-house; and they defended the shop, that immense diminutive of the fatherland, with Lacedæmonian enthusiasm. At bottom, we will observe, there was nothing in all this that was not extremely serious.
It was social elements entering into strife, while awaiting the day when they should enter into equilibrium. Another sign of the times was the anarchy mingled with governmentalism [the barbarous name of the correct party]. People were for order in combination with lack of discipline.
The drum suddenly beat capricious calls, at the command of such or such a Colonel of the National Guard; such and such a captain went into action through inspiration; such and such National Guardsmen fought, 'for an idea,' and on their own account.
At critical moments, on 'days' they took counsel less of their leaders than of their instincts. There existed in the army of order, veritable guerilleros, some of the sword, like Fannicot, others