Revolution and Reaction - A (very) French Victoria II Interactive AAR

[DensleyBlair]

Once again caught in a glut of dead time, Merivée realised that he neglected to bring with him his earlier notes on the social tension. No matter, he thought. With any luck they would go unnoticed at his place in the chamber and he could pick them up once Paris was a little more easy to navigate.

That being said, he had never been what one might exactly call an optimist. In the eventuality that what little work he had done had been destroyed (probable) he set to work occupying himself with similar problems (inevitable).

[…] liberalism troublesome to distinguish as an ideology for its shifting tendencies of inclusion: who exactly is party to whatever quantities of ‘liberty’ are on offer? … Critical analysis of industrialised systems in England exposes reality of labouring classes, apparently docile, excluded from political liberties by aristocratic government (neutral phrasing) and also from access to certain social liberties. Classes of men viewed simply in terms of their value as wage labour; hence liberty in fact a negative liberty to provide not for one’s own true welfare, that having been variously addresses by a surrogate government, but instead as a function of economic freedom enjoyed by individuals within the industrialist classes. Hence might liberalism exist more properly under a designation of individualism? … Further, does external recognition of such systems, increasingly ubiquitous as they are, equate to tacit endorsement of political co-option of ‘liberty’ as an idea by specific agents of democratism? … Reality more nuanced (less munificent) co-existence of several competing and often conflicting conceptions of liberty among different classes of people.

[…]

Note: Revisit earlier drafts of industrial enquiry. Potential for synthesis of enquiries and development of ideas exposed in TSO ?

[…]​

 

[Lyonessian]

((GM Approved))

"Quai Pelletier. A once comfortable spot with views into the Île de la Cité, full of the boom and hustle of life, now stood still, washed the blood of the courageous. Our incursions inside the city were now on the verge of victory when news came of the defeat Seine-side. Nevermind. A quick detour on the road to greatness..."

"Our men were now into the Place de la Bastille. The curtains were open, and a massacre to begin. They cannot deal with the open ground. Explosions... shell shot. We fire into the mob, amazed and aghast at the power we hold. We... it's hard to say such a thing..."

"Never did a military career cross the mind of a peasant boy like me. Never did the hands that hold the pen ever think of holding a weapon, and commanding by force of action the sheer destiny of another man's soul. But this is war; and war not only engulfs the young, but also the mature in its grasp, and once it so does, it is a hard mistress to leave to another's arms..."

"Such a happenstance was unlikely, but it still happened by Providence as it may seem... the column of soldiers was turning, firing into the Place de la Bastille, the July Column awaiting more sacrificial souls. The unholy offering on the altars of the republic. Blast the thought! My mind did wander but my body could not, for I was well aware of the situation. After our first volley, the mob fired back - one of their bullets hit a man near by the colonel, whose cries to hold the line caught my attention. We fiery onlookers kept a safe distance from the battle, but the distance did shorten throughout the réveille along the Boulevard du Temple. The rifle was on the ground as we entered a shutdown café... and it found its way into my hand..."

"The grasp of cold steel amidst the fire, smoke and whispers of death outside is a sensation I shall never forget, but that I pray never to feel again. I grabbed the wall on the second floor; my mind blank and my feelings rushed. Armageddon was happening just outside, but my hand never shook as we observed the scenery. Footprints on the blood. Fury as one had never seen. Our men and theirs, sometimes confused for the blood on their vestments, knives and bayonets, a limb torn on the pavement. The artillery sang once more. It took many lives on the open ground... without barricades their plight falls on deaf ears. When the cannon firing stopped, it was enough for my eyes to pierce through the crowd into a small group on our near southeast, stray from the mob at large, who kept retreating..."

"I did not think. My fingers reached the trigger as if on a hunt, back in my Occitanian youth. My eyes regained their old accuracy again. The blast echoed. He was ashen blonde, and perhaps close to 30... perhaps a fisherman, a baker. Perhaps he was honest, before Hell opened beneath Paris. Perhaps he came from a village like myself. But I remain, and he does not. The bullet flew past his torso, spraying the blood on a railing. La Bassin de l'Arsenal. Here they meet their end, as many other dishonourable mobs did before. "Fire! Dunk them!" I spoke and the column responded... they charge into the fray, bayonets ahead... one through the arms, one through the chest... piercing or smoking, their bodies don't pile, but fall down into the water..."

"The agony of a war baptism. Today Paris runs the rivers of blood, and Charon smiles somewhere in the deep..."

 

[ThaHoward]

((GM approved)).
​

Rout! They could not be stopped. There was clash of gunpowder, steel and will. Only one side could prevail in this fight, but a small fight in the greater battle over the very soul of French society.

The soldiers of the French Army had but one objevtive in mind, take the Southern bridges. Take the isle.

The insurgents fought bravely, but they could not stand against the well oiled war machine. Their elan won the day as the 14th yet again forced its way over the barricades and over the bridge. The rebels routed. Some panicked, jumped into the Seine. Others froze. But the drilled men of the 14th rolled over them.

"Forward! Do not look back. Press forward. Remember Damense! For France! Liberate Paris of the rapists, pillagers and those who put horses ablaze. Elan!"

The Tricolor waved over Notre Dame for all to see. The locals hanged the Tricolor out of the windows. The Red Flag was trampled to the ground. With the Tricolor at their back the 14th lined up for one more charge.

Their objective: the northern bridges. Music was played, the soldiers made their cry of battle. The dogs of war slipped lose and cried havoc. The northern bridges was under assault!

 

[ThaHoward]

Île de la Cité. Earlier.

Jérôme visited the wounded. He was compassionate, his heart had been filled with hate. Now he understood it was his own countrymen he fought against. He didn't feel any hatred against the poor and downthrodden who only wanted bread on their table, the desparate. Tears came to his eyes, this is not how it should be. Brother pitted against brother, but even then he had to do his duty. To country and to the people. Those he hated were men such as Dubois who led these men to burn Paris, and tear his brother apart. But he had to do his duty. But these wounded he now visited, they were not his own soldiers. He had tended to them. These were the insurgents. The fighting was over. There was no need for further bloodshed. He ordered the medical company of the regiment in reserve to tend to the wounded, the priests were to recieve their last prayers.

He had stopped his men from mistreating them, he called them out. Their dead was taken to one place, blankets put over them. Over their misfigured bodies, to hide their twisted faces and torn off limbs. Jérôme went over to the prisoners and gave them water and bread and food. The fighting was over for their part, there was no need to punish them here. Jérôme's job was done. For now.

His troops had punched into the center of the Seine. His men only waited for the word to take the northern bridges. Once more into the fray. Once more to mount the barricades. To look at the horrified faces of those who could not resist the soldiers of France. Bayonets pointing toward them, right after solid volleys. Coming in with perfection, with the musical corps and the shouting breaking the spirit of the hungry defenders. This time the Army also held the northern bank, they would either give up or fight to the bitter end. But Jérôme had no doubt the Army would win. Then they could advance, most likely to the Bastille. And there he would find Dubois and les Hommes. It was then he could exact his revenge.

 

[ThaHoward]

((GM approved)).
​

The northern bridges was taken. This time with little effort. Frightened the barricaded insurgents either jumped into the river, or they froze as they were first in contact from the north, then the south as the 14th stormed their positions piercing them with their bayonets.

Victory! Île de la Cité was taken! The wounded needed to be tended too., but there was no time.

Jérôme got the hold of another battalion. Its order "secure the crossing to Île Saint-Louis, then assault and seize the island". Île Saint-Louis, home of the artists and bohemians. Soon it would be the home of the French Army.

Meanwhile feint and probe attacks had been, and was still, conducted to the rebel blocking position south-west of the island. Jérômes troops would strike, and they would strike hard.

The battle was to be concluded, even if Jérôme showed mercy to the fallen and the wounded, none would be given to the men on the barricades.

"Île Saint-Louis will soon be liberated, and the insurgents will feel the wrath of the French patriots!"

 

[99KingHigh]

REACTION 5: Come What May
June 8: 6:00 PM

​

June 8 was the decisive day.

Troops CONVERGED against the BASTILLE; the HEADQUARTERS of the INSURGENTS.

GAINS and LOSSES throughout the morning CONFUSED the SITUATION.

​

But by 1 PM the MOBILE GUARD had BROKEN through the BOULEVARD SAINT ANTOINE and RUSHED towards the JUNE COLUMN.

A FEROCIOUS BATTLE followed where the blood of TYRANTS was first DELIVERED.

​

The LEADERS of the INSURRECTION; Hubert-Denise and Cartier are SLAIN on the FIELD.

QUARTER is SHOWN by NEITHER SIDE; the MOBILE GUARD conducts SUMMARY EXECUTIONS. DEPUTY? WHAT'S A DEPUTY?

Blanqui and Gigot are captured; Clement ESCAPES the CITY.

AT 5 PM the INSURGENTS flee behind the FAUBOURG SAINT-ANTOINE; they RALLY behind the narrow streets and BARRICADES.

Their CAUSE now is HOPELESS; it is ALSO a BLOODY one.

Mgr. Affre, the ARCHBISHOP of PARIS, comes before the BARRICADES; he pleas for peace. He proceeds into their lines.

The Archbishop Pleas before the Barricades beside the June Column.
​

A ROGUE INSURGENT shoots the ARCHBISHOP; the others CARRY him off and CARE for HIM.

His last words: "MAY my BLOOD be the LAST spilt!" It would not be.

​

The INSURRECTION is DOOMED; but the narrow STREETS remain OCCUPIED by the INSURGENTS. Bloody work is ahead.

-
Revolution over. A brief update will follow, get any orders in before then, and we will resume soon after this update leaves off.

​

 

[Dadarian]

The sound was deafening, with a mixture of hell and brimstone on the senses. Boulange almost didn't notice the charging cry of the infantry as the made one final, successful, push to the barricades. Drawing his pistol and standing, Boulange ushered the words he never expected to. Perhaps it was the heat of the moment.

"For the Societe and France!"

Of course that wasn't his true last words, as the soldier who mounted the barricade and was at Boulange with a bayonet thought he heard Boulange gasp one final time.

"I hate this city."

 

[Davout]

(An address by Jacques de Rothschild at a meeting of concerned citizens at the Column of the Goddess, La Grand Place, Lille)

Mesdames et Messieurs, news has arrived that the fever in Paris has broken at last. But I fear the malady still afflicts the patient and we may be subject to further fits of madness if measures are not taken to alleviate the ill.

It is a great tragedy in France that her greatest city is also her most foolish. We are blessed with many models of industry and enterprise, in temperance and tolerance, and in fraternity and egality, in Bourdeaux, in Lyon, in Toulouse, and best of all, here in Lille. But our largest metropolis shuns these examples in virtue and instead shames us all with her excesses, in exalting the rich and debasing the poor, in the waste of wealth and blood, and in the extremes of political temperaments.

I have seen the harmonious combination of capital and labour in the North, I have seen the growth in wealth in our fair city, and I have indulged myself, for too long I fear, in imagining that others would look upon our ways and conclude that this is the way France should be. Alas, the events of the last few days have ripped away the veil of our delusions and exposed the destructive partisanship that lies in the heart of our Nation. For no matter how strong the limbs may be, a body must fail if it has a sick heart.

The guns are falling silent in Paris. No doubt the victors will crow and claim vindication in defeating their enemies as the villains of the episode. However, in truth, there are no victors, there are no heroes, there is no triumph. For what have they achieved? Death and destruction. Not of foreign invaders. But of the people of France. The people who are citizens of France, the people who were soldiers, officers, bakers, butchers, advocats, deputies, priest, mothers, fathers, children. We mourn them, we mourn the blood they shed and their lives cut short. And we ask why? We ask why to both the Reds and the Ministers. Why did the Government provoke the riots by closing the workshops? Why did the Generals turn the soldiers against the people and invade the National Assembly? Why did the demagogues goad the mobs to murder Lecuyer and revive the most hateful name of the Committee of National Safety?

Blame is not reserved for the defeated but taints the hands of both sides of this revolt. The extremes of our politics encourage the ambitious to exploit the goodwill of the people for their own ends, whilst the Centre remains silent in its sensibility. In this judgment, I accept blame too, for I have sought shelter from the madness by devoting myself to my work too long. I have indulged myself in the pleasant company of you, my fellow citizens of Lille, and imagined that if we build a better society in our little corner of France, then all will be right in the world. I have neglected the responsibilities of speaking up. -speaking up for my people, speaking up for you, speaking up for France.

The nobility and the mob have shown what they are capable of when left to their own devices. A Government which relies upon the point of the bayonet is merely a Tyranny. A Government which relies upon the conflagration of the Mob is a Barbarity. It is time that we, the sensible Middle, raise our voices to say "Enough" and to restore sanity to Paris, to show them the Lille way of harmonious progress so that it may become again a city worthy of being called the capital of fair France.

 

[99KingHigh]

Chapter 9: After the Storm
(June 8 - June 11)

​

Between 8 June and 10 June, the forces of order conducted the grueling conquest of Paris. The insurgents were, in many locations, encircled in neighborhoods, and the fight became one of survival. Suspected suppliers of arms were arrested and executed; lodging houses near the Hotel de Ville and St. Martin-des-Champs were stormed by troops. Many parts of Paris were quiet by the evening of 9 June; men from the barricades defected into houses and backstreets. Come nightfall the rebels had been beaten in the Fifth arrondissement; a somber silence rested over the Twelfth. The repression was not without costs; Lieutenant-Colonel Jérôme de Lécuyer lost his leg, and General Bréa was killed during a ‘truce.’ The last centers of resistance, at the Faubourg St Antoine and near the Boulevard du Temple, withered away after hours of fighting early on 10 June. In the confusion of defeat, and without perfect instructions, thousands of rebels were captured, others dispersed back to their homes, and a significant (and unlucky) few met grizzly ends.

A remarkable photograph of the 1852 barricades.​

Who were the participants in this terrible drama? First, there were the insurgents, of whom there were a great many. Contemporaries estimated the number of insurgents between 60,000 and 70,000, although this must be exaggerated. At least 20,000 were imprisoned during the June Days, and while many were released, 13,000 arrest records were issued. A range of 25,000 to 30,000 insurgents is therefore considered a reasonable guess. In order to determine the social composition of the rebellion, we must resort to arrest and judicial records. The majority of those arrested were pickuped on the streets or in adjoining houses as government forces cleared insurgent barricades. Anti-revolutionaries passed information on their neighbors to the authorities, and an additional 6,000 persons were seized for political leanings and suspected participations. The typical insurgent was a male worker employed in the meta, furniture, building, or clothing trades. He had a wife and children, and likely was between twenty and forty. Although he lived in east Paris, it is unlikely that he was born there. A majority of insurgents were migrants, although they were not recent arrivals, and were likely to have been domiciled in Paris for at least a year and a half. In addition, our typical participant either belonged to the National Guard or the National Workshops. Three fifths of the charged participated to these groups (50% belonged to the workshops and 36% to the Guard). If he belonged to either group, he was less likely to be immediately released. However, most members of both organizations did not join the uprising. The specific occupational titles encountered in the dossier of the rebellion from a local population of captured rebels inform the following division; 700 journalists, 580 masons, 500 carpenters, 450 merchants, 450 shoemakers, 330, cabinetmakers, 300 tailors, 280 mechanics, and 270 locksmiths. We must also take into account the Parisian labour force; the aforementioned trades (textiles, clothing, and furniture) all had a large share of the total labour force. With these factors are incorporated, metal working, construction, transport, and leather trades stand out against clothing industries or specialty trades. This can be explained by the high forms of organisation in such industries; the building, metal, and leather trades boasted corporations, syndicats, and federations d’industrie. About 75% of the total insurgent population resided in the octroi walls, and another 17% hailed from the suburbs of the Seine. The twelfth arrondissement had the highest rate of participation, about 500 for every 10,000 workers, and their high turnout was manifested in their stunning success at the Luxembourg.

​

The forces of order enjoyed an obvious advantage from the outset. They were drawn into three divisible groups—the National Guard, the Mobile Guard, and the Regular Army. Over 25,000 regular soldiers were stationed near Paris when the rising broke out, and the enthusiastic battalions of the garde mobile brought this force to 40,000 men. Two more regiments with artillery and cavalry arrived by rail on 7 June and 8 June. Among these three divisions the normal National Guard was the weakest. The nominal size of the guard was 237,000 legionnaires, but the vast majority of the membership refused to heed the rappel. About 12,000 came from the western districts, and another 6,000 from the disperse unoccupied regions of the East. Again, in the twelfth, about three hundred assembled; the intended strength was 15,000 troops. Nevertheless, the number of guardsmen who appeared grew steadily as the insurgents were beaten, and they were cushioned by men from the provinces who flocked to Paris. Beginning on June 6, a steady stream of volunteers rushed to defend law and order in Paris. Most volunteers arrived after the fighting, but the state rallied almost 120,000 citizens to Paris from the provinces, even if this enthusiasm proved delayed. The great surprise, of course, was the Mobile Guard, recruited from the unemployed working classes since the February Revolution. They prospered from the fraternal associative and privileged status of the elite division, and showed total resolve in the cause. Engels and Marx tried to explain away this phenomenon by describing these men as social excrement, and coined them Lumpenproletariat. Throughout the preceding months they had gradually subsumed the duties of the regular guard and enjoyed state favour.

​

Finally, there is the question of casualties. In retrospect, the numbers of fatalities in the revolutions of June 1830 and February 1850 were small, reflecting the relative ease of overthrow. This was not so in June 1852. At a maximum, the loyalist forces endured 1,50 losses, mostly from the regular army and the mobile guard. Insurgents suffered from a variety of atrocities and pressures, and it is estimated that over 5,000 insurgents perished. If participation is assumed to be between 80,000 and 100,000 combatants, the death toll is conventionally fixed at 8,000 combined. Quite literally the street of Paris were washed in blood, and this is not even including the hundreds who perished in the provisional lodgings of the Tuileries cellars where tens of thousands of prisoners were imprisoned (there was no other place in Paris big enough to hold all the men captured). Sentries would take pot shots at prisoners who were gasping for air on the pretext that they were trying to escape. Among other issues, not least the very existence of the Republic, the question of the prisoners came before the frightened legislatures. Social fear refused to recede; stories of garde mobile murdered in dark isolated spots continued to burn as gossip. Most notables expected the uprising to return, and far-sighted politicians anticipated another bout of anarchy. The physical structure of the city was disturbed; near the Bastille, houses were in ruins, and the row of residences down the rue St. Antoine were riddled with bullets as walls crumbled down every hour. The state crammed loyalist corpses into the Church of the Madeleine in anticipation of a burial. Fine society decided to stay away, and traffic near the Elysee went silent. Paris was paralyzed with shock.

​

-
Now for you to pick up the remains.

 

[Eid3r]

Quai de la Grève, Paris, 1852

The fighting was fierce. The soldiers were pouring from every side. Cartier was in the thick of the battle, almost blinded by the smoke, hearing the sound of his comrades dying. The bayonnette makes a grim sound when it pierces the throat of a man, reflected Cartier.

He was hit by a bullet in his thigh, fell to the ground, then manage to drag himself next to a broken ammunition cart. His back against the wheel, we was hit again by a second shot, right in his rib cage. There was no fixing that, no escape.

He was soon surrounded by soldiers, and as the smoke dissipated, he saw none of those who charged with him. The last of his friends were laying face to the ground, their gaze gone to the icy grip of death, their hands tied to their backs.

“What do we do with that one, sir.” Said a soldier.

“Kill him like the others.” Said his commander.

Grunting, Cartier put his hand in his jacket. The soldiers raised their weapon, ready to fire. He took his pipe from his pocket, and proceeded clumsily to fill it with tobacco. Raising it to his mouth, he looked at the soldiers, defiant to the end.

“Gentlement, fire please?”

He was shot to death on the spot.

 

[Eid3r]

(Character switch - Eid3r ((GM Approved))​

Général Patrice de Mac Mahon​

​

Name : Patrice de Mac Mahon
Birth : June 13 1808, Château de Sully (Saône-et-Loire), near Autun
Profession : Général de brigade, Chef d’État Major de la Province d’Oran
Party : Catholic / Conservative

Familial origins

The Mac Mahon family is of irish origin, having sought refuge in France together with James II Stuart during the Glorious Revolution in 1689. Claiming to be of the line of the ancients kings of Ireland, the Mac Mahon claimed descendance from the lords of Munster. Their nobility was recognized by patent letter issued by King Louis XV upon their permanent relocation to France.

Biography:

(WiP)

 

[Jackbollda]

Monsieur le President,

The bloody affairs of the week will consume the deliberations of this house for weeks; I should not like to inaugurate repetitions of condemnation, but instead, offer my sincerest expressions of gratitude to the noble sons of France who saved the nation from the basest expressions of anarchy. Murmurs of approval on the Right.

I have conferred with my colleagues on the benches, and it is no longer possible to evade the deficiencies that have incurred this drama. The first matter I should like to bring to the Assembly is the urgent need for a constitutional revision, and the President must put before this house a motion, in accordance with Chapter XII, to allow the legislature to consider the necessary alterations, and if necessary, abnegations, of the Constitution.

I should next wish to enunciate the general appreciation of the legislature to the conciliatory motions of the President of this Chamber. However, given the implications of recent days, and the need to proceed without excessive affiliation to the passing troubles, my colleagues believe that Monsieur le President would best serve the Chamber by renouncing the Presidency of the Assembly. The quality of reconciliation demands that this branch of the state proceed forward in an immaculate state of mind, and this symbolic and practical act of transition would crown the President with all the civic honours that his service has merited.

Merci.

 

[Dadarian]

The Election of 1852
​

The June Days Revolution had an incredible impact on the population and psyche of the Societe. Within the course of a week, it is estimated that up to a third of the population of the Societe, counting almost to a man the Parisian House, had been killed or imprisoned. The neo-Jacobin faction was annihilated, while the conservative faction lost all of it's face seeing that their chosen child joined the revolution as one of it's leaders. It was a most morose occasion that drew together the ballots of the Societe, for the second time in two years.

Unlike in the previous years, there were neither debates nor spirited campaigns. Rather, there was a series of discussions of backrooms and smokey basements, with promises and back-biting plaguing the legitimists in their run for leadership. The once popular Aubert-Bernard Cuq, who ran against Boulange in 1850, was cast from his mighty pulpit following accusations that his populist nature was actually a sign of crypto-Jacobinism, with the Montpellier House falling into turmoil as Cuq's second-in-command made a leadership challenge.

It was in this air of distrust and destruction that a mysterious figure started to gain traction. The recent head of the nascent Avignon House, Jean-Anne Gai, whispered much needed words into the ears of many of the Househeads. Thus, in a quick ceremony outside Toulouse, it was announced that the newcomer Jean-Anne Gai would be the sixth Grandmaster of the Societe. What these men didn't know, however, was that beyond his obvious exterior, the man they elected was far from the Henri-Maurice type they wished to install.

 

[etranger01]

Louis-Napoleon idly straightens his moustache, allowing the National Assembly to lapse into a brief silence following Charlus' address. He begins speaking without looking up.

"I thank the honorable gentleman from Maine-et-Loire for his contribution. I believe that such a presentation by His Excellency the President would be entirely in order. I shall, of course, complete my remaining term of office."

He glances down to the list of speakers.

"Moving right along..."

 

[Nax24]

June 1830
Plais de la Bastille

The 29 year old Alexandre Descombes was celebrating. The revolution was successful, the absolutists were overthrown. A constitutional king was being sworn in as he walked. Alexandre walked the Plais de la Bastille in triumph, drinking a bottle of wine, watching as the celebration over the abdication of the King entered another night. Tricolors were being flown from the windows, people were cheering for the Duke of Orleans, for the Prince of Armentieres and the revolutionaries. It was a good week for Alexandre.

“Monsieur Descombes! Give us a drink will you!” shouted one of the younger members of the Chamber of Commerce, a man Alexandre had gotten to know well over the course of the Revolution. Alexandre walked over, and filled the man’s glass.

“Monsieur this is a great day for us indeed!” said Alexandre. “Long live France and the people!” laughed Alexandre in a rather tippsy state. “Long live our new King!”

“Long live our new King!” replied the young members of the Chamber of Commerce. They drank and laughed and sang revolutionary songs as they continued to join the celebration of the masses.

-------------------------------------------------------------​

((Joint IC with @Sneakyflaps))
June 1852
Plais de la Bastille

The site was hell on Earth. The soldiers had a hard time collecting the bodies, and the smell of the rotting corpses filled the air. Alexandre, now 51, walked through the streets, looking at the dead. Socialists, Republicans, it didnt matter, the dead piled on top of each other in rotting barricades. Some were missing limbs, others were bleeding their life blood away. A soldier was sitting on the side, puking up his lunch over the scene. It was a horrifying scene, and Alexandre walked through it, knowing full well he was part of the men responsible for this.

Alexandre eventually returned to Elysee to rest. It was there though that he would have to experience another wave of guilt.

About the moment he stepped into the Èlysée, a servant summoned him to the President, having arrived a few hours earlier as Philippe stood, his back towards the door with a glass in his hand, filled with whisky, “Minister.” The Young President said as he stared at the painting that hang on the wall behind his desk. “What happened? I could have sworn that I sent a letter with instruction for the exact opposite of what was done.”

“Your Excellency. The Prime Minister, the Ministry as a whole, and the Prefect of the Seine were in agreement that the National Workshops had to be closed. So they were. Socialists rose up in rebellion, and General Changarnier was ordered to stop them. What you see outside was the result.” said Alexandre, in a quiet solemn tone.

Philippe turned around, half a look of disbelief, half an amused smile, because he could muster nothing else in the face of what he saw, riding into the city. “Well.” He said after a short moment, “Was it worth it, Alexandre?”

“We saved this city from the Jacobins, Your Excellency. People were joining us in the streets to fight the threat, the enemies of the Republic as a whole are now dead or imprisoned. The bloodshed as a whole was regrettable but we are still here. Paris is still the Republic’s to command, and that Committee of Public Safety was destroyed before it could obtain control.” said Alexandre. He looked at the President with somber eyes. “We tried peace, Excellency, and what they demanded was unreasonable and non-negotiable. In many ways, what happened out there was their doing.” he said, pointing towards the streets.

“And what peace was this?” Philippe asked his good Minister of Finance, extending an arm ever so slightly.

“A peace befitting of those who would seek to destroy the order Your Excellency has fought so hard to obtain.” said Alexandre, softly.

“What peace?” Philippe simply asked once again.

“A bloody one…” said Alexandre, with a sort of sadness to it.

“What were the terms, answer, I need to know what this Ministry did.” The President took a few steps forward and sat down in his chair.

“A man was sent to broker a ceasefire. We gave him seven hours to get to the rebels, get them to present reasonable demands, and for us to negotiate. We offered to open up the Workshops again, to reinstate healthcare, to give them care in general. But they wanted more, they wanted our resignation and exile, the legislature abandoned of Royalists, myself and Rohan exiled from France, a new convention and a new Provisional Government…” said Alexandre. “If that was their base demand, negotiations would have never worked…”

“And the man?” Philippe then asked, “Who? A clerk, a Minister, Charlus?”

“Who do you think could have walked through that Godforsaken hellscape and come back without a smudge on his jacket Excellency?” asked Alexandre.

Philippe just chuckled slightly, sipping from his whisky, “Well then, I hope that you at least can find rest at night. Now that Paris has been so bravely defended, after the people lost the only way in which they could provide for their families.” Philippe just shook his head, “Look over the budget, and begin to gather funds and resources to buy bread. Now we need to feed Paris, or one of us shall be known as the King of Thieves.”

Alexandre stood quietly, nodded, turned, and walked out of the office.

 

[Dadarian]

Jean-Anne Gai
Grandmaître des Hommes d'Artois ~ Occultiste ~ Ésotérique​

Name: Jean-Anne Gai
Date of Birth: 6th June, 1816 (47)
Place of Birth: Carpentras, France.
Current Residency: Avignon, France.
Religion: 'Catholic'
Profession: Sixth Grandmaster of Les Hommes d'Artois.
Social Class: Third Estate.
Fluent in: French, Occitan.

Bio: Born to a family of rural farmers of no note in Carpentras, Gai had a normal French childhood until he met Alexis-Vincent-Charles Berbiguier around the age of seven. Although whispered about the village as an evil and addled man, Gai took interest in Berbiguier and was taken unofficially under his wing. Whereas most children would be scared by the man's wandering, meandering rants about devils and demons, Gai took an odd comfort to it. The place of the soul was not in jeopardy, rather the individual's soul was forever intertwined with those imps that lived freely among people.

Thus, Gai grew up content with his place. Content in that his soul, no matter the words spoken in church or by the pastors, was in no harm. Heaven was a myth and the realm of man was the one true Hell. This mysticism drew little joy from the Church, however many of those who saw themselves in harsh conditions drew a certain comfort that they did not await divine judgement for heaven or hell, but rather were in hell itself.

Seeing this comfort being spread to others, Gai took to careful consideration. Joining Les Hommes thanks to the influence of a close confidant, Gai began to use his cell, and soon his House, to spread his faith. Declaring in a tiny, private ceremony, the Inner House (of which Gai was Supreme Eye) was created. Gai was a nobody during the 1850 elections, casting his vote for Cuq, however by the time of the June Days Gai had gathered about himself much more influence. This allowed Gai to whisper into the right ears, as the expected House heads were unable to take control due to a severe case of death or infighting.

An openly legitimist individual, the first in twenty one years, who all but worships Louis XVIII as a divine inspiration for how an individual is to act, Gai was ready to use his place to expand both the Legitimate cause as well as his own occultist clique.

Honours and Titles:
Grandmaître de les Hommes d'Artois (1852 - Present)
Oeil Suprême de la Maison Intérieure (1849 - Present)

 

[Eid3r]

A dispatch is sent to Paris, from Oran, Algérie.

======================================================
To : Hon. Gen. Jacques Leroy de Saint Arnaud, Minister of War

From: Gen. Patrice de Mac Mahon, Chief of Staff, Province of Oran

Subject of the dispatch: Provincial report – Department of Oran, French Algeria – June 10, 1852.
======================================================

Mon général,
Monsieur l’Honorable Ministre,

In concordance with subsection III, article VII of the ministerial instructions pertaining to the military command in Algeria, respectfully find enclosed the report on the situation of our troops in Oran for the period of May 10th 1852 to June 9th 1852.

Report on the troops

Following the end of military enrollments on the 31st of May, it is estimated that our general fighting force has been reduced by 7%, to be compensated by the arrival of fresh recruits within the next few weeks.

Discipline remains high, despite the temptations offered by the city. No incidents worthy of note, under Subsection V, Article IX, Alinéa III.

Report on logistics

Our current food stock has been resupplied following the arrival of the convoy on May 16th 1852. By the estimate of daily consumption, our forces in the province should maintain their battle-readiness easily through the fall.

We are informed that the harvest is expected to be excellent, due to sufficient rainfall in the spring. The acquisition of local cereals should diminish our reliance on such commodities from the mainland.

Report on the local political situation

The local populace continues to be in opposition to our presence, but despite their scorn, little action is taken against us. The situation is more perilous toward the Sahara desert, a region we do not exactly control and often crossed by Bedouin raiders.

As for Oran and its surroundings, it is as calm as a Parisian summer night. Le calme plat.

Find enclosed the appropriate forms related to the financial dealings of the régiment as well as details of the payroll.

Général Patrice de Mac Mahon
Chief of Staff
Province of Oran

 

[Sneakyflaps]

This was carnage; there was no doubt about that. The amount of dead, the smoke still coming from parts of the city, not to mention the stench that still prevailed in good parts of the city, it was not what Philippe had expected to return to. In truth he had little idea as he had departed Paris that he would have been forced to return early, not to mention the image of the city he returned, and the meeting with the Minister of Finance had left a sour taste in the young President’s mouth. For the government first to disband the workshops, then offer them reopened. Philippe took a deep breath as he stepped out of his carriage and began walking in through the doors of the Palais Bourbon, having requested that both the National Assembly and Senate be present for this.

The young President looked around the chamber as he stepped forward, going in front of them all as he took the podium, standing in his regular attire, distinguishing him from most others.

“Honored members of Parliament, the recent days has seen much upheaval throughout Paris, which thanks to God, has been put down by the valiant efforts of the Ministry, The French Armies and her Generals. These events which now has made me come before you, coupled with the events and troubles which for the past two years have plagued this Republic. I wish today to speak to you, so that we may begin to heal, and put forth a new path for this Republic, bereft of strife, conflict and every other calamity.

But I shall start with speaking of the actions, which has plagued this city for the past many days. Where we have seen the brave sons of France, our brave soldiers and generals, stand with courage and bravery against an uprising. An insurrection led by devilish agitators, who have sought to bring down this nation, and who have now have reduced Paris and her population, to the most wretched misery and near ruin.

But in between these agitators, are the people of Paris, who have been misled in their entirety and now suffers the utmost misery. I ask that Parliament joins me in passing an amnesty to any citizen of Paris, who is not a member of the National Guard, or a member of either of these two esteemed chambers, who has been arrested by the Army, the Mobile Guard or the National Guard for joining in this insurrection. Let these men go home to their families, and let us put such a misery to an end, and free them from their prisons.

I further ask that Parliament jointly, supports the prosecution of any members of these respective chambers who have taken part in the recent insurrection against the state, and the French people. Members of this Parliament such as Blanqui, Gigot and Dubois among others, as well as those having fled the city to be arrested and put before the High Court of Justice to determine their guilt and just punishment.

And finally on this matter, to join with government in unison, to issue the necessary funds for the purchases of bread and other items of subsistence, to be given to the people of Paris who cannot provide for themselves, until such a time that normality has returned to this city.” Philippe stopped for some time, letting his words hang there, as he looked around the chamber to test their reactions before he would continue to the next part, no doubt one much more controversial that very likely would spark potential outrage.

“But this conflict, so recently seen in Paris, has not been the only which has plagued this Republic. We have a constitution of compromise, and in our attempt to compromise the ideals of the French people at the time of its writing. We have been left with a Constitution, which no doubt has in it the most noble of spirits, but the weakest of purpose, for it remains unclear in many issues, and elusive in its designs. An issue which has caused troubles between myself, in the capacity of the office I hold, and these respective Chambers in which you all preside. Conflict which has caused uncertainty, uncertainty which must end if France is to once again be restored to the greatness of our forefathers.

In accordance with article 121 of our constitution, I may propose an amendment, which can then be passed should a two-thirds majority in both chambers agree. But, we do not need an amendment; we need a rewriting, a rewriting to clearly define the powers between the branches of state, and the future of this Republic so that stability may once again return.

I therefore stand here now, to offer an end to the conflict which has so plagued us, and to form a committee that I shall head, in my capacity as President of this Republic, to examine our constitution to fix any error or mistake which may reside within it, and if need be, rewrite it together with this committee.” As the young President spoke, his eyes moved over to Deflandre. His faction had led this insurrection and disgraced this very Parliament and state. Deflandre had gone against Philippe out of petty grievances when Deflandre failed to control the President, despite threats and insults. Deflandre had proven fickle, far more so than Philippe had thought at first, making the President sigh ever so slightly before looking back out over the chamber. “I seek for this to be a small committee, consisting only of four other members, save for myself. These members being François Pierre Felix Christoper Victor de Levis, Louis de Rohan, and the two honoured Presidents of each Chamber. So that we may jointly work towards a future for this nation, one which truly prospers without strife, unhappiness or grief.

Merci.”

 

[Otto of england]

Excerpt of: An Overly Detailed History of the June Days

Godefroy finally arrived in Paris at the head of a column of 700 men drawn from units near his home. The men exhausted from their long march were given a few days rest by him after it was determined that the revolt was crushed. His efforts and those of the men that followed him were for not. In fact one might even wonder why he bothered to do such a march since Paris was so far away. A question that remains unknown to this day. Yet, some speculate he did it for pride, others in the off chance it was needed. The more cynical may think he did it in case he could get the coups he had always hoped for. However, Godefroy left no such records as to why. Peculiar for him, as he normally kept a detailed journal of his plans and life.

What is known of his actions in the wake of his arrival in Paris further obscure his potential motives. He camped the men outside of Paris while they rested; for him though there was no rest, he used his rank and gathered all the information needed to understand the situation in Paris. And with that he paid but one visit to his Bonapartist allies and left Paris on the 25th of June. This time at a normal pace. As the troops who had swelled his column departed he made a point to give them additional pay equal to their normal wage for partaking in this particularly arduous march. A quite generous lump sum considering the 29 day adventure. 400 km in 5 days. He also had them give them their names, ranks, and units so he could have them recorded. They were good men and if he could, he promised he would do them well.

With that he went back to Le Puy for a few days to say hello to his family before once more heading off to Algeria to resume command of the XII corps. It always struck him as a paltry command given his rank, with just a single corps. However, if that was all he was given he would make due.

 

[ThaHoward]

​

Île Saint-Louis, Paris.

The isle was taken the Seine was running red no mercy was shown. The Garde Mobile was meant to reinforce and take over for the 14th Regiment, who had been battle tested yet again and bloodened the streets of Paris. To the commander of the relief force Jérôme simply commanded "follow the trail of defiled corpses", that was accurate. It wasn't the fire of the insurgents that hindered the advance of the 14th to secure the Seine, but the dead rebels and guardsmen in their path. The diversion attacks of the regiments supporting the 14th south of the island proved effective, but once it became clear for the rebels they were attacked from two directions they broke off in the south. But as opposed to the orderly withdrawals of the warriors of the 14th they routed like headless hens. The Mobile Guard followed closely behind in the south with Jérôme's attack battalion in the west, the result was a killzones and carnage.

The streets ran in blood, with blood splattered all over the walls, the screaming of the wounded was unbearable. But they had to press forward to secure the Seine. One sergeant led his men around the corner, but he tripped in the corpses with his men slipping in the blood and being stuck in the traffic jam of sorts that was forming. The men that be reached was dragged out of the scene, screaming in agony or fright, or perhaps both. They left a blood trail, some were screaming out of the top of their lungs, other resignated. Perhaps at one with their fate. There was no time to care for the wounded, either the ones in relative safety or the ones still crawling in the pile of corpses. Fire is the best medicine, and each soldier knew that. Their chances to survive increased if their enemy was butchered. Jérôme ordered a platoon to take the building on the left side overlooking the crossing. From there Chasseurs would provide accurate fire, while the rest of the men inside the building fired surpressive volleys, either to prevent the enemy from using retreat and reinforcement routes or to keep them down once the assault came. Meanwhile forces from the Garde Mobile fearlessly circumnavigated the area and took up positions in a building overlooking the right side of the crossing, there would now be crossfire into the bridgehead. But the enemy still had a stronghold, and the French soldiers did not dare to cross the street that was riddled with corpses, where the screams of agony could still be heard.

The scent of blood and gunpowder was in the air, but as Jérôme prepared to lead his men into a hopeless charge the Ludovisiens hanged the Tricolor out of their windows, cheering for the soldiers, for the Republic and for liberty, one private not having yet reached 20 summers cheered as saw the flag wave over Saint-Louis-en-l'Île. The men was again spirited from the solidarity showed by the citizens and the sight of their flag. Jérôme stood in front of his troops and said "Soldiers, one final push and we kill the parasites. With me sons of France. With me for the Republic and for liberty. Why are you here?" he asked and a company commander responded "to kill!", Jérôme grinned with his teeth clearly visible in his face that was darkened by blood and sot. He ordered the rappels to sound, and he repeated what the captain said. He then got his men to cry out "kill" several times, with the musical instruments sounding off between each cry. Soon the mobile guard followed in, this surely put courage back to the hearts of the 14th, and Jérôme didn't dare to imagine how the insurgents must have felt. After several cries Jérôme lifted his saber to the sky, his saber who would otherwise reflect the sun in its shiny metal, but which were now covered in solidified and fresh blood alike. He rounded the corner and the men followed behind their superior officer who was first into the fray. Jérôme tripped and stumbled in the bodies, many times crawling on all four like a bear running toward its prey. The blood was slippery, and while he and the other men slipped and tripped the bullets from the barricade hit the corpses and the ground in front of them, slinging blood and dirt into their faces. The bullets whined around Jérôme, hitting the walls, hitting his men. But the two buildings alternated with effective volleys keeping their foe down. Jérôme ran straight up the barricade, a young insurgents shot his arms up and was to shout, but he was penetrated by the saber. He stumbled backward as he looked to his wound and collapsed. The other insurgents froze, Jérôme was there alone, but volleys were fired from the sides of the bridge where his men had taken up positions. Men of the Mobile Guard vaulted over the barricade, they didn't fight like soldiers, but like animals. They clawed, bit and bludgened their enemies. No doubt giving the mob the same treatment as they gave to his brother. The leader of these guardsmen approached Jérôme, his remaining teeth having the same color as the Bedouin savages with his breath having the stench of liqour, no doubt to get the courage. He simply said "we got it from here" and then his men charged forward and took the next barricade.

Île Saint-Louis was secured. The 14th was now to secure the north bank of the Seine. The plan was now in effect, the 14th had broken into Île de la Cité and Île Saint-Louis, the flank of the insurgents (who for whatever reason concentrated their forces in the streets bypassed by the northern armies) was now open. The 14th would secure their gains, while other regiments would relieve them by attacking north into the enemy positions to surround the insurgents and cut the Bastille off. Meanwhile another regiment would attack into the northeast toward Bastille. But the Mobile Guard proved to be the decisive factor. They came in great numbers and attacked into Boulevard Saint Antoine from all directions. Jérôme felt confident these killers would do their job.

​

Quai de la Grève, Paris.

Whilst the Mobile Guard broke into Saint Antoine. Jérôme and the 14th was still resting, but there was still pesky insurgents holed up in Quai de la Grève. Surrounded by all sides. As it were they had fought savagely and resisted most attempts to be broken. But these insurgents were not ordinary. There was reports of terryfing crimes, burning horses and crimes against God's creation. Soldiers told horrifying tales of flaming horses and their screams of agony. Jérôme told his men "these are not humans. They are virmins, they are monsters. They are void of humanity! Kill every last of them!" The stench of the burnt horses were unbearable. Some of the soldiers even emptied their bowels by the horrific smell of burnt flesh, gas and the sight alone was enough to take the heart out of even a proud lion. Jérôme and other volunteers from the Regiment partook in the attack that came in from all three sides. No mercy was to be shown to these vermin, these criminals. The compassion Jérôme had shown to the insrugents on Île de la Cité would not repeat itself in Quait de la Grève.

They were attacked from all sides, the many hours of battle had taken its toll on the criminals, meanwhile the soldiers had been rotated to get in fresh troops and enough munitions. The smoke blocked their vision, but they kept on pushing stabbing their bayonets into the enemy. The fight was fierce, but short. These criminals never stood a chance against the hatred of the soldiers fresh into combat, surrounding them on all sides. It was then it first began. Men of the Mobile Guard executed the remaining insurgents, those who were already laying dead on the ground, was speared by the bayonets just to make sure. But Jérôme couldn't feel any compassion for these men. He saw a figure dragging himself to a wheel cart, he had visible gunshots in his thorax and thigh. Jérôme had seen such injuries many times before, he would either bleed to death or his lung would collapse and he would suffer a horrible death. Jérôme and few of his stood around him, observed him and felt nothing but pity. "What do we do with that one, sir?" a soldier asked Jérôme. “Kill him like the others," he replied and shrugged. Jérôme did not know if he said it out of hatred for these criminals, or if he wanted to put him out of his misery. The wounded man then reached for something, the soldiers raised their weapon ready to fire. It was a pipe, it was tobacco. The poor man tried to fill it, and he then mumbled something. All Jérôme could hear was "please", the shouting and gunshots around him defeaned his hearing, not to speak of the fighting all day that made his ears ring. Was the man pleading for mercy? The soldiers fired into him. A major gaping hole was left in his breast and face as 12 men fired their salvo into him.

Later on a prisoner, moments before he was executed by the Mobile Guard in some dark alley, he revealed that the man they had killed was no other than Cartier, one of the leaders of the insurgency. He revealed it was he who came with the plan to set the horses on fire, he had even crawled around in the sewers, only to be lost. Jérôme admired this Cartier for his creativity, but he asked the prisoner if Cartier was responsible for the death of Joachim-Philippe. The prisoner confirmed that, perhaps to get away, but it was enough for Jérôme. He approached a sergeant of the mobile guard who was in the process of emptying a bottle of wine. "You there, see that man? He's a virmin, he's filth who crawled around in the sewers. Make sure his own kind devour him". The sergeant obliged, and his men dragged Cartier away after taking off all his clotches and belongings, then they dumped him into the sewers like a potato sack. The rats would have a feast.

​

Repression.

In its final hours the uprising reached new savage levels. A bloody conclusion to a bloody ordeal. The Archbishop sought to end the insurrection and killing, but he was met with a bullet. Jérôme told his men this was a clear sign of the morality of these insurgents. This failed terror regime wanted not only to undo the Republic, but the very fabric of society. No one would find mercy from the wrath of the insurgents. The middle class was pillaged and raped, the working class was forced into conscription, the tricolor was trampled on, men of the national assembly was torn apart, soldiers fired upon and even Archbishops who desired peace was murdered in cold blood. It was a declaration of war against the very soul of France and their common culture. The fallen Archbishop was a martyr for Christendom and France. The streets was cleared out, Jérôme only objected to the heavy handed measures of the Mobile Guard on the record, but he felt no sympathies for the deputies. A traitor is a traitor, Jérôme hadn't found Dubois, but as Clement and Hubert-Denise found their end along with the other traitorous deputies he was certain he was somewhere in a pile of dead insurgents. The 14th stormed the lodging houses around Hotel de Ville and arrested the suspects. Jérôme gave his men orders to not execute them. The Mobile Guard, on the other hand, dragged the arrested men by their hair and executed them en masse.

Jérôme was tasked with clearing out the last remaining pockets in the north. It would be his final task. The insurgents there fought it to the bitter end, smoked filled these tiny and phobic streets. Screams were everywhere, and the senses were sharpened. It was fascinating how the ears filtered out all the unnecessary sounds in the heat of the battle, and how the body and mind was totally focused for their one task at hand. Jérôme led his men personally in the last ditched battles in northern Paris. He offered them to surrender, but time and time again they raised the red flag. The response of the 14th was void of mercy. Everyone was killed, shot to pieces by volleys or stabbed to their deaths. The fighting was especially brutal here, with ony a few men being able to be at the front for assaults, smoke filling the alleys obstructing the vision. As they came to an end Jérôme suddenly fell to the ground. A man was standing above him, he pierced him with his bayonet into the throat. Blood poured out and Jérôme kicked him away. He was to get up, but he could not, his body refused to. His men formed a line behind him, volleys was fired above him. He lost his hearing, and the muzzle from the muskets blinded him temporarily. Someone took hold of him, dragged him behind, meanwhile his men pressed forward with their bayonets pressing forward. Jérôme screamed and kicked, ordering them to let them lose. But then he saw it, a pike pierced right into his calve. Blood streamed out of it, a vein was punctured. Even worse the pike was covered in excrements. Everything became blurry, all he could hear was the screams and gunshots, men killing eachother. He passed out.

He woke up, a carer was above him. There was wounded everywhere, blood up the walls and the ceiling. He asked where he was, the carer explained the situation to him, Jérôme had lost his left leg, it had to be amputated. Proudly he replied "it is of no consequence". But once the carer left tears filled his eyes, he was now a cripple and his life was over.