The day following my second night in the _Salle de Police_ was a
Saturday, and inspection-day. Our clothing was to be inspected on this
occasion. Each trooper had to lay on his bed his various garments in
such a way that the regimental numbers should be clearly displayed. The
inspection took place at 2 P.M., but as early as 12.30 our respective
corporals compared the list in our _livret_ with the clothes on our
beds, counting our tunics, trousers, boots, underlinen, towels, and
stable costume (canvas trousers and blouse), in order to ascertain
whether any of our outfit was missing. All our underclothing had to be
previously washed, as well as our stable uniform, so that troopers had
to purchase secondhand canvas trousers and blouses to wear while the
others were drying.
In order to avoid punishment in case any of my kit should be missing,
I had, shortly after my arrival in the regiment, a complete duplicate
set of outfit made to order by the regimental tailor, bootmaker, and
armourer. The clothes were made of exactly the same pattern and cloth
as those issued to us, but they were cut so that I could wear them
without discomfort. I had regulation boots made in which I could walk
with ease, and besides these I had several pairs made in Paris by my
own bootmaker; in appearance these looked like regulation boots, but
the toes were narrower and the heels lower, with box spurs, imitating
the regulation spurs, screwed into the heels. These I used for drill
on foot and on horseback. I had arranged to keep all my regulation
outfit in a box which I left in the orderly's room which I have already
mentioned. In this way I was always able to produce my regulation
outfit in perfect order whenever a clothing inspection was held. That
morning I sent Titi to fetch my clothes and regimental underlinen
from their box, in which was also stored all my duplicate kit, as we
were forbidden to keep on our shelves anything besides our regulation
outfit, or to have even a locker under our beds. Under the previous
Colonel troopers had been allowed to have a box in which they could
lock up their private belongings, such as spare underclothing and
letters, as well as any money they might possess. To be deprived of
this convenience was hard on most of the troopers, as they had to carry
their money day and night on their persons. It was even impossible to
keep a book, as this was invariably "bagged" while its owner was at
drill or stables. Petty thefts were of common occurrence, and it even
happened several times to me to have loose cash stolen from under my
bolster when I was asleep. To complain of a theft would only have made
the complainant pass as a dirty sneak among his comrades, and would
have exposed every man of his squadron to suspicion.
To return to the inspection: The Corporal having seen that each man's
outfit was complete, the Sergeant came to inspect the trooper's
clothes to make sure that they were in proper order, that no button
was missing, and that all spots of grease or dirt had been properly
removed. In case a trooper was short of some article of clothing,
this was duly reported by the Corporal, the Sergeant making a note of
it and reporting it in his turn to the Lieutenant. If there was time
enough before the arrival of the officer, troopers who had sufficient
money could go and purchase at the canteen any small articles which
were needed to complete their kit (sponges and chamois leathers were
especially apt to be stolen from _Volontaires_, as it was impossible to
identify such articles). At five minutes to two we all had to be ready
at the foot of our beds; and the Sergeant-major passed through the room
to make sure that everything was in order, and every trooper properly
attired. A quarter of an hour later the cry of "_Fixe!_" (Attention)
was uttered by the trooper standing nearest to the door. This announced
the arrival of an officer. The first to come was the Lieutenant of our
_peloton_, a stout, middle-aged man, who spoke through his nose. He
carefully turned over the clothes on each man's bed, distributing here
and there a few days of _Salle de Police_. When my turn came he looked
at me.
"So that's you?" he remarked.
"Yes, sir," I replied.
"Impertinent as usual," he went on. "How dare you answer me?"
"I beg your pardon, sir," I replied. "I thought you had questioned me."
"Oh, you did, did you?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, don't think another time. I don't like troopers who think.
You've got no business to think. D'ye hear?"
"Yes, sir."
"What? Don't you understand me? I tell you not to answer. Do you
understand?"
Warned by what he had just told me, I shut up. Whereupon the
Lieutenant, turning towards the Sergeant, remarked, "Sulky brute, that
fellow."
"Are all your things there?" he then asked me.
"Yes, sir, I think so."
"You think! You always think. I told you not to think. You have no
business to think. That's always the result of too much education.
These lazy dogs of _Volontaires_, they are always thinking. Troopers
have no business to think."
Continuing to mutter peevishly, the Lieutenant proceeded to overhaul my
things while I stolidly stood at attention, at the foot of my bed.
"Look here, you--what's-your-name, what's the fellow's name?" he
grumbled to himself, looking at the placard hanging at the head of my
bed, on which my name and regimental number was written.
"Oh--Decle," he read aloud, holding a pair of eyeglasses in his
hand--he seldom wore them on his nose. "Lionel," he went on, reading to
himself, "too d----d aristocratic to have a Christian name like anybody
else. Why is Lionel your Christian name?" he asked me; "will you tell
me why you call yourself Lionel?"[34]
"Because my parents christened me so, sir," I replied.
"A fine reason!" he said. "But it doesn't matter. Don't you ever wear
your clothes?" he added. "They are all new; they've never been worn!"
"No, sir," I said. "I bought duplicates so as to save those that were
served out to me."
"Plenty of money to waste, eh? Regimentals not good enough for you?
I suppose you would consider yourself degraded if you had to wear a
regimental shirt? Linen's too coarse for a tender skin like yours, eh?"
I thought it as well to make no reply. Lifting up my blouse, the
Lieutenant then looked at my shirt, and told me to unbutton it. I was
wearing under my flannel shirt an under-vest made of wool and spun silk.
"Ah! just what I thought," again remarked the Lieutenant. "The thing
must wear flannel and silk like a _Cocotte_ (a fast woman), and then
calls itself a trooper. _I_ don't wear any undervests, and yet I'm an
officer! Well," he added, as he passed on to the next bed, "you've
already found out that silk vests won't prevent you from going to the
_Salle de Police_. You've got nothing missing to-day, but I'll soon
catch you napping. You won't pass many inspections without having to
send you to the _Boite_. Silk vests indeed!" he kept on muttering.
He then began to examine Titi's bed. After looking through his outfit
he lifted up the mattress, and found underneath it a dirty pair of
drawers and a newspaper. "Just as I expected," he remarked. "What's
that?" he asked, showing the newspaper to Titi.
"Oh, it's an old newspaper, sir," blandly replied Titi, "that I put
aside. I bought some things in the town and they were wrapped up in
it."
The Lieutenant looked at the date of the paper; it was the previous
day's number of a Radical journal.
"So, we read the paper here; the vilest rag, too, that was ever
printed. Well, you will see what it will cost you, you dirty
_Communard_. To begin with, you'll have eight days' _Salle de Police_,
and I shall specially report you." So saying, the Lieutenant, holding
the paper by the tips of his fingers, at arm's length, as if it
had been something likely to contaminate him, handed it over to
the Sergeant, de Lanoy, ordering him to go and throw that "vermin"
on the dung-heap. "De Lanoy," he added, "on your way stop at the
Sergeant-major's office and tell him to put you down for two days'
_Salle de Police_ for the disgusting state in which your _peloton_ is
kept."
As the Lieutenant was looking over the last trooper's outfit our
Captain came into the room. The Lieutenant went and spoke to him, and
they both returned towards Titi's bed.
"So, Martin," said the Captain in a great rage, "you dare to read
papers in the barracks,[35] and as you are now undergoing eight days'
_Salle de Police_ you cannot possibly have brought it in yourself. I
want to know from whom you got it?"
"I didn't get it from anybody, sir," replied Titi. "I found it in the
courtyard of the infantry barracks."
"Don't tell me lies," said the Captain sternly, "or you'll be sorry for
it. Tell me who gave you that paper."
"Nobody, sir."
"If you tell me," said the Captain, "I won't increase the punishment
Lieutenant Pernod has given you. If you don't, I'll give you eight
days' prison."
"I found it, sir," insisted Titi.
"Very well," said the Captain, "get your things ready to go to prison."
"Yes, sir," politely replied Titi.
"And if you go on much longer like that," said the Captain, in a voice
shaking with rage, "you'll soon go to Biribi."[36]
The Captain walked out, accompanied by the Lieutenant, and soon
afterwards two men from the guard, accompanied by a Corporal, came into
the room with drawn swords, and Titi was marched away between them to
the prison.
On inspection-days we did squadron duty after "Stables," having neither
drill nor school, and those _Volontaires_ who were not undergoing
punishment were at liberty to go out of barracks until 8 P.M. The
troopers who had twenty-four hours' leave were allowed to quit the
barracks after evening stables and remain away until the next Monday
at 5 A.M. After stables the regimental orders for the day were, as
usual, read out to us, as well as the punishments. Those were numerous,
and included two days' confinement to the room, for a Lieutenant, for
being out in civilian clothes the previous afternoon; _Salle de Police_
for three Sergeants as a result of the inspection, while about twenty
men were punished similarly, getting from two to eight days, their
outfit having been found short, or their clothes soiled. Among the
troopers punished with _Salle de Police_ were three _Volontaires_, and,
finally, came Titi's name, with a sentence of eight days' prison by the
Captain "for having introduced a newspaper into barracks, and having
obstinately refused to give the name of the trooper from whom he had
obtained it."
That evening, I was, as usual, taken to the _Salle de Police_, where I
was much astonished to find Titi lying on a straw mattress rolled up in
a blanket. He called out to me as soon as the non-commissioned officer
had locked us in, "Come here, old chap," he said; "I'll make some room
for you, old Decle, and we'll share my mattress and blanket."
Although a scoundrel, Titi was at the bottom of his heart a kind
fellow, and I felt most grateful to him for sharing his rough bedding
with me, especially when a little later on he produced his inevitable
candle, and I saw that in order to let me lie down comfortably he was
lying himself on the bare boards, his back only resting against the
mattress.
I inquired from him how it was that he was undergoing his prison in
the same lock-up as the one used for men punished with _Salle de
Police_, and I expressed astonishment at his being privileged to enjoy
a mattress and a blanket. He explained to me that the only difference
between prison and _Salle de Police_ was that the men punished with the
former, instead of doing duty in the daytime remained in the _Salle de
Police_ day and night. They had, however, to do two hours' punishment
drill in the morning and again in the evening, and during the remainder
of the day they were employed on fatigue duty, having to carry water
about, to make ditches and earthworks, and to do all the dirtiest
work. On the other hand, they were allowed a straw mattress and one
blanket, and were not called upon to work at the pump in the middle
of the night. On the whole, it struck me that prison was a far milder
punishment than _Salle de Police_, and I found this undoubtedly to be
the case when later on I became personally acquainted with the former
punishment.
FOOTNOTES:
[34] As may have been noticed, my Christian name was a puzzle to every
one.
[35] It is strictly forbidden to read newspapers in French barracks,
and any infringement of this regulation is severely punished.
[36] _Biribi, Compagnies de Discipline_, see p. 28.