1. Signing Away Our Lives

We were here. This moment which we had long spoken of had finally arrived. We had always loved the republic; we had yearned for it. There was no doubt whatsoever that there were many who did.

Perhaps though, the difference of our group -the friends of the ABC- was that we were willing to do something about our wish. We wanted to turn it into more than a wish; we were determined to turn it into reality.

A critic could have overseen our meetings and pointed out the fact that our radical, revolutionary discussions were ultimately futile, as they came to nothing. Were we just a bunch of men who found it satisfactory to complain about everything and anything in the hope that they would somehow change, more to our liking.

Like everyone whose discussions are more than empty promises though, a time would come when we felt we had to stand up; when it was the time that if our dream was to ever become a reality, it would be now.

June 1832, for us, was this time.

I had dedicated time to rallying the troops, if you will, to make sure that I had people to fight with my friends and I, who were like us, who had a better plan than to cause widespread riot, and who yearned for the republic like ourselves.

Of course though, widespread riot was to spread through the city of Paris, as the restless poor turned into angered citizens.

These riots would allow us to erect our barricade: our barricade of freedom, hope and propserity.

Did us men really understand the depth and seriousness of what we were getting ourselves into though? I did. I understood fully from the very start that the chances of me making the ultimate sacrifice for the republic -in the form of my life- was a likely outcome. I was proud of that possible outcome though. I was willing to do this.

Did my friends understand this though? Perhaps some of them did; perhaps some of them did not. I think it is safe to say that most could recognise the risk of getting themselves into such a situation, however with war, many do not really feel the pain of having to fight for your life, as well as watching those closest to you suffer and die in front of you until it happens. You can envisage the worst outcomes in your head, and they may appear frightening and daunting. Despite that, you power on knowing that this sacrifice is worth it; that you can be brave and make that sacrifice. It is only once you are placed into the reality of this situation that it dawns on you what you are doing. This is when the fear rushes towards your head; when you realise that you may not in fact be cut out for such a noble sacrifice.

When I say this, I do not only refer to my closest friends. Some of them understood the likelihood of death just as much as I did.

Combeferre was a wise man. He understood what he was doing and why he was doing it. That was the basic extent of his knowledge, considering his knowledge was something that went far beyond that.

Grantaire was a cynic; a realist in a way. I have no doubt at all that whether he was really willing to fight or not, he understood that, in all probability, he would not walk away from the barricade with his life intact. Why would he not? I did not understand at this stage. I was at a loss to tell you why he was here. His respect and admiration for me was clearly evident, however I was underestimating just how far this admiration went at this stage.

When I refer to those who would have suddenly become filled with endless fear when they set eyes on the barricade, I refer to those who volunteered themselves to help out us chiefs; those who would bluntly refuse to leave the barricades when filled with that fear I described at the risk of being labelled as a gutless coward who would talk valiantly of freedom, but ran scared when their thoughts of freedom were challenged and put to the test. Combeferre especially did not believe this of those men who would run from the barricade at the hour of war, however it could be said in a way that running from something you want but fear is harder than remaining there in spite of your evident fear and fighting till your death for it anyway.

Either way, we were here. The insurrection had risen. We knew that with the rise of the barricade would come the fall of our livelihood, barring some inconceivable miracle. I understood this especially, knowing that perhaps others would not. I did not have time to concern myself with this at such a time though. Those who had ignorantly decided to fight and would soon be overcome with fear in knowledge of their inevitable fate would find out the grave mistake they had made soon enough.