An insurrection is a sudden conflagration that spreads without pattern, fed by every disappointment, from disillusioned idealism to vile resentment. But for all its destructiveness, it is not ipso facto reprehensible. Insurrections are wrong when they are an attempt of the minority to frustrate the general will. When they serve the aims of democracy, they become sublime. "Insurrection," says Hugo, "is sometimes resurrection." According to this distinction, and in spite of appearances, the uprising of 1832 was legitimate. Furthermore, it gave rise to such acts of heroism that even its critics speak of it with respect.
When a situation is sufficiently combustible, it takes but a spark to light the fires of revolt. In 1832, the occasion is provided by the burial of General Lamarque, hero of the Empire and later a political leader of the left. On June 5, the funeral procession crosses Paris followed by a seditious crowd, armed and prepared for action. The dimensions of the popular unrest worries the government. It has posted 24,000 soldiers in Paris and 30,000 in the suburbs. Near Austerlitz Bridge, someone—no one knows who—fires three shots, and the storm breaks. A vast and lethal improvisation changes Paris into an armed camp. Flags are unfurled, weapons requisitioned, arms factories pillaged. In less than an hour, 27 barricades go up in the Halles district alone. The center of Paris, transformed into an impregnable citadel, becomes the heart of the insurrection.
The authorities retaliate by mobilizing all their forces, including the National Guard. But the military leaders hesitate to give the order to attack. A dreadful feeling of suspense hangs over the city, for the population senses that it is not a few disgruntled acts of protest, but a large-scale uprising that is in prospect.
