3.V.1.7. THE SITUATION BECOMES AGGRAVATED
THE daylight was increasing rapidly. Not a window was
opened, not a door stood ajar; it was the dawn but not the
awaking. The end of the Rue de la Chanvrerie, opposite the
barricade, had been evacuated by the troops, as we have stated
it seemed to be free, and presented itself to passersby with a
sinister tranquillity. The Rue Saint-Denis was as dumb as the
avenue of Sphinxes at Thebes. Not a living being in the
cross-roads, which gleamed white in the light of the sun.
Nothing is so mournful as this light in deserted streets.
Nothing was to be seen, but there was something to be heard.
A mysterious movement was going on at a certain distance.
It was evident that the critical moment was approaching.
As on the previous evening, the sentinels had come in; but
this time all had come.
The barricade was stronger than on the occasion of the
first attack. Since the departure of the five, they had
increased
its height still further.
On the advice of the sentinel who had examined the region
of the Halles, Enjolras, for fear of a surprise in the rear, came
to a serious decision. He had the small gut of the Mondetour
lane, which had been left open up to that time, barricaded.
For this purpose, they tore up the pavement for the length of
several houses more. In this manner, the barricade, walled
on three streets, in front on the Rue de la Chanvrerie, to the
left on the Rues du Cygne and de la Petite Truanderie, to the
right on the Rue Mondetour, was really almost impregnable;
it is true that they were fatally hemmed in there. It had three
fronts, but no exit. — "A fortress but a rat hole too," said
Courfeyrac with a laugh.
Enjolras had about thirty paving-stones "torn up in
excess,"
said Bossuet, piled up near the door of the wine-shop.
The silence was now so profound in the quarter whence the
attack must needs come, that Enjolras had each man resume
his post of battle.
An allowance of brandy was doled out to each.
Nothing is more curious than a barricade preparing for an
assault. Each man selects his place as though at the theatre.
They jostle, and elbow and crowd each other. There are
some who make stalls of paving-stones. Here is a corner of
the wall which is in the way, it is removed; here is a redan
which may afford protection, they take shelter behind it. Left-handed
men are precious; they take the places that are
inconvenient
to the rest. Many arrange to fight in a sitting posture.
They wish to be at ease to kill, and to die comfortably. In
the sad war of June, 1848, an insurgent who was a formidable
marksman, and who was firing from the top of a terrace upon
a roof, had a reclining-chair brought there for his use; a
charge of grape-shot found him out there.
As soon as the leader has given the order to clear the
decks
for action, all disorderly movements cease; there is no more
pulling from one another; there are no more coteries; no
more asides, there is no more holding aloof; everything in
their spirits converges in, and changes into, a waiting
for the assailants. A barricade before the arrival of danger
is chaos; in danger, it is discipline itself. Peril produces
order.
As soon as Enjolras had seized his double-barrelled rifle,
and had placed himself in a sort of embrasure which he had
reserved for himself, all the rest held their peace. A series
of faint, sharp noises resounded confusedly along the wall of
paving-stones. It was the men cocking their guns.
Moreover, their attitudes were prouder, more confident
than
ever; the excess of sacrifice strengthens; they no longer
cherished any hope, but they had despair, despair, — the last
weapon, which sometimes gives victory; Virgil has said so.
Supreme resources spring from extreme resolutions. To embark
in death is sometimes the means of escaping a shipwreck;
and the lid of the coffin becomes a plank of safety.
As on the preceding evening, the attention of all was
directed, we might almost say leaned upon, the end of the
street, now lighted up and visible.
They had not long to wait. A stir began distinctly in the
Saint-Leu quarter, but it did not resemble the movement of
the first attack. A clashing of chains, the uneasy jolting of
a mass, the click of brass skipping along the pavement, a sort
of solemn uproar, announced that some sinister construction
of iron was approaching. There arose a tremor in the bosoms
of these peaceful old streets, pierced and built for the fertile
circulation of interests and ideas, and which are not made for
the horrible rumble of the wheels of war.
The fixity of eye in all the combatants upon the extremity
of the street became ferocious.
A cannon made its appearance.
Artillery-men were pushing the piece; it was in firing
trim;
the fore-carriage had been detached; two upheld the gun-carriage,
four were at the wheels; others followed with the
caisson. They could see the smoke of the burning lint-stock.
"Fire!" shouted Enjolras.
The whole barricade fired, the report was terrible; an
avalanche
of smoke covered and effaced both cannon and men;
after a few seconds, the cloud dispersed, and the cannon and
men re-appeared; the gun-crew had just finished rolling it
slowly, correctly, without haste, into position facing the
barricade.
Not one of them had been struck. Then the captain
of the piece, bearing down upon the breech in order to raise
the muzzle, began to point the cannon with the gravity of an
astronomer levelling a telescope.
"Bravo for the cannoneers!" cried Bossuet.
And the whole barricade clapped their hands.
A moment later, squarely planted in the very middle
of the street, astride of the gutter, the piece was ready
for action. A formidable pair of jaws yawned on the
barricade.
"Come, merrily now!" ejaculated Courfeyrac. "That's the
brutal part of it. After the fillip on the nose, the blow from
the fist. The army is reaching out its big paw to us. The
barricade is going to be severely shaken up. The fusillade
tries, the cannon takes."
"It is a piece of eight, new model, brass," added
Combeferre.
"Those pieces are liable to burst as soon as the proportion of
ten parts of tin to one hundred of brass is exceeded. The
excess of tin renders them too tender. Then it comes to
pass that they have caves and chambers when looked at from
the vent hole. In order to obviate this danger, and to render
it possible to force the charge, it may become necessary to
return to the process of the fourteenth century, hooping, and
to encircle the piece on the outside with a series of unwelded
steel bands, from the breech to the trunnions. In the meantime,
they remedy this defect as best they may; they manage
to discover where the holes are located in the vent of a cannon,
by means of a searcher. But there is a better method, with
Gribeauval's movable star."
"In the sixteenth century," remarked Bossuet, "they used
to rifle cannon."
"Yes," replied Combeferre, "that augments the projectile
force, but diminishes the accuracy of the firing. In firing at
short range, the trajectory is not as rigid as could be desired,
the parabola is exaggerated, the line of the projectile is no
longer sufficiently rectilinear to allow of its striking
intervening
objects, which is, nevertheless, a necessity of battle,
the importance of which increases with the proximity of the
enemy and the precipitation of the discharge. This defect of
the tension of the curve of the projectile in the rifled cannon
of the sixteenth century arose from the smallness of the
charge; small charges for that sort of engine are imposed by
the ballistic necessities, such, for instance, as the
preservation
of the gun-carriage. In short, that despot, the cannon, cannot
do all that it desires; force is a great weakness. A cannon-ball
only travels six hundred leagues an hour; light travels
seventy thousand leagues a second. Such is the superiority
of Jesus Christ over Napoleon."
"Reload your guns," said Enjolras.
How was the casing of the barricade going to behave under
the cannon-balls? Would they effect a breach? That was
the question. While the insurgents were reloading their
guns, the artillery-men were loading the cannon.
The anxiety in the redoubt was profound.
The shot sped the report burst forth.
"Present!" shouted a joyous voice.
And Gavroche flung himself into the barricade just as
the ball dashed against it.
He came from the direction of the Rue du Cygne, and he
had nimbly climbed over the auxiliary barricade which fronted
on the labyrinth of the Rue de la Petite Truanderie.
Gavroche produced a greater sensation in the barricade
than
the cannon-ball.
The ball buried itself in the mass of rubbish. At the
most
there was an omnibus wheel broken, and the old Anceau
cart was demolished. On seeing this, the barricade burst into
a laugh.
"Go on!" shouted Bossuet to the artillerists.