Moreover, there was no order in this street-fight. The officers on both sides were absent, and if by any chance some had been present, the excitement and anger visible upon the assailants’ faces were a proof that their intervention would have been useless.
Riot, in fact, was reigning in the city of Lille, the capital of the province; and this time law and order were being upset by those whose duty it was to make them respected. But the town, with its 80,000 inhabitants, had for months been going, nervously and anxiously, through a succession of anything but encouraging episodes. The convocation of the States General, the formation of the Garde Nationale, the creation of the Municipality, and, two months earlier (in February), the administrative upset which thrilled the province—all this, added to the distress of the kingdom, to the general misery, to the exaggerated price of food, and to the ruin of commerce, had brought about several outbreaks in this manufacturing town, naturally dependent upon its trade for its well-being. And, at the very moment that there came from Paris the most alarming news—that is, on April 29, 1789 (coinciding almost day for day with the sacking of the Reveillon factory) pillage had its first innings at Lille also; the bakeries were invaded; and three months later four houses were attacked by the mob and burnt down.
Of the troops which then composed the garrison of Lille, one part had taken up their quarters in the town; these were the regiments of the Crown and of the Royal-Vaisseaux. The other, consisting of the light cavalry of Normandy and the infantry of Colonel-General, the leading French regiment, were lodged at the citadel, that imposing fortress which is Vauban’s masterpiece. Certain signs of insubordination had crept into the two former regiments; the revolutionary spirit was working actively in the men, and was favoured by the permanent contact with the inhabitants in which these two regiments lived. More remote from this influence, away off in the citadel, the “Colonel-Generals” cherished sentiments of whole-hearted devotion to the King; moreover, they had over them a body of officers whose unadulterated royalism was to display itself in the events which we shall now endeavour to set forth. As matters were, the least thing would let loose these warring elements in the garrison upon one another. And what finally did it? A mere nothing, a scuffle that broke out on the evening of April 8, between the chasseurs and the grenadiers—some say a duel. At any rate, two soldiers were killed on the spot.... Instantly cavalry and infantry take sides for their respective comrades. During the night a general attack is talked of, on both sides. The officers get wind of it; but, unluckily, two of the colonels are on leave. The Marquis de Livarot, commandant of the province, tries to restore peace by holding a meeting of delegates from each corps; he believes he has succeeded, but scarcely has he left them when the fusillade breaks out again in every direction.
The “Colonel-Generals” had remained neutral until then; discipline, so carefully maintained by the commanding officers, had prevailed with the men. But when, in the evening, they saw the chasseurs of Normandy falling back on the citadel for refuge, these their comrades of the infantry opened the gates to them, brought them in and joined cause with them, refusing any longer to listen to their officers, who still strove for peace. They carried things, indeed, even further than that. M. de Livarot and M. de Montrosier—that last lieutenant of the King—on coming out of the gate which led into the square, saw that they were surrounded by a group of mutineers, whose attitude was menacing. Despite the efforts of the few officers who were present, these two were dragged into a casemate, where their situation was simply that of prisoners.
During this time the most sinister rumours were circulating in the town, kept alive by the infantry of the Crown and the Royal-Vaisseaux regiments. People expected nothing less than to see the cannons of the citadel open their throats and vomit down grape-shot on the populace. Shortly, on the walls of the houses and in the cafés, the uneasy citizens might read a strange proclamation, at the authorship of which all the world could guess. It opened with this apostrophe:—
“Let us beware, Citizens,
LET US BEWARE,
and thrice: Let us beware. We are deceived, we are betrayed, we are sold!... But we are not yet ruined; we have our weapons! The infernal Fitz-James[3] is gone with all his crew ... they have contented themselves with keeping back a useless lot.
“Livaro, the infamous Livaro, is said to be in our citadel; Montrosier, the atrocious author of all our ills, sleeps peacefully.
“The soldiers, whom they have tried to corrupt, offer these men to us.... What are we waiting for? Why do we not show all France that we are Citizens, that we are Patriots? Is it for the orders of our Commandant that we look? But has not the aristocrat of Orgères already shown us how unworthy he is of the place which we have blindly entrusted to him?... He commands us only that he may lead us into the abyss. Seconded by his sycophant, Carette, and by the traitors whom our cowardice leaves in command over us; leagued with the heads of all the aristocratic intrigues, he now seeks to alienate from us our brave comrades of the Crown, and of Royal-des-Vaisseaux. Shall we let them go? No; ... but we will march with them.... We will go and seize Livarot, Montrosier, and deliver them up, bound hand and foot, to the utmost severity of the august National Assembly!