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Updated: June 17, 2025
Nothing can be more gloomy than the aspect of the Rue Brise-Miche, one end of which leads into the Rue Saint-Merry, and the other into the little square of the Cloister, near the church.
It is certain that, on the morning of the 6th of June, the insurrection broke out afresh for an hour or two, to a certain extent. The obstinacy of the alarm peal of Saint-Merry reanimated some fancies. Barricades were begun in the Rue du Poirier and the Rue des Gravilliers. In front of the Porte Saint-Martin, a young man, armed with a rifle, attacked alone a squadron of cavalry.
Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu'une botte. "L'un jurait et l'autre sacrait. Quand irons nous dans la foret? Demandait Charlot a Charlotte. Tin tin tin Pour Pantin. Je n'ai qu'un Dieu, qu'un roi, qu'un liard, et qu'une botte." They directed their course towards Saint-Merry. The band augmented every moment.
The result of this council held by the watch dogs was, that they had been mistaken, that there had been no noise, that it was useless to get entangled in the belt sewer, that it would only be a waste of time, but that they ought to hasten towards Saint-Merry; that if there was anything to do, and any "bousingot" to track out, it was in that quarter.
One would have said that the man who was dead was surveying those who were about to die. A long trail of blood which had flowed from that head, descended in reddish threads from the window to the height of the first floor, where it stopped. As yet, nothing had come. Ten o'clock had sounded from Saint-Merry.
He advanced towards a hackney-coach drawn up on the Cloitre Saint-Merry Square. In this carriage lounged Rodin, wrapped in a cloak. "Well?" said he, in an inquiring tone.
In the centre was that famous house No. 50, which was the fortress of Jeanne and her six hundred companions, and which, flanked on the one hand by a barricade at Saint-Merry, and on the other by a barricade of the Rue Maubuee, commanded three streets, the Rue des Arcis, the Rue Saint-Martin, and the Rue Aubry-le-Boucher, which it faced.
There was hardly even the distant rumble of a vehicle to be heard. People listened on their thresholds, to the rumors, the shouts, the tumult, the dull and indistinct sounds, to the things that were said: "It is cavalry," or: "Those are the caissons galloping," to the trumpets, the drums, the firing, and, above all, to that lamentable alarm peal from Saint-Merry.
Baron Gouraud was one of the generals who took the church of Saint-Merry, delighted to rap those rascally civilians who had vexed him for years over the knuckles; for which service he was rewarded with the grand cordon of the Legion of honor. None of the personages connected with Pierrette's death ever felt the slightest remorse about it.
Alarming details were hawked about, fatal news was disseminated, that they were masters of the Bank; that there were six hundred of them in the Cloister of Saint-Merry alone, entrenched and embattled in the church; that the line was not to be depended on; that Armand Carrel had been to see Marshal Clausel and that the Marshal had said: "Get a regiment first"; that Lafayette was ill, but that he had said to them, nevertheless: "I am with you.
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