He vaguely recalled this populace， and thought that he recognized all the heads who had saluted him as Pope of the Fools some months previously. One man who held a torch in one hand and a club in the other， mounted a stone post and seemed to be haranguing them. At the same time the strange army executed several evolutions， as though it were taking up its post around the church. Quasimodo picked up his lantern and descended to the platform between the towers， in order to get a nearer view， and to spy out a means of defence.
Clopin Trouillefou， on arriving in front of the lofty portal of Notre-Dame had， in fact， ranged his troops in order of battle. Although he expected no resistance， he wished， like a prudent general， to preserve an order which would permit him to face， at need， a sudden attack of the watch or the police. He had accordingly stationed his brigade in such a manner that， viewed from above and from a distance， one would have pronounced it the Roman ******** of the battle of Ecnomus， the boar's head of Alexander or the famous wedge of Gustavus Adolphus. The base of this ******** rested on the back of the Place in such a manner as to bar the entrance of the Rue du Parvis； one of its sides faced H？tel-Dieu， the other the Rue Saint-Pierre-aux-Boeufs. Clopin Trouillefou had placed himself at the apex with the Duke of Egypt， our friend Jehan， and the most daring of the scavengers.
An enterprise like that which the vagabonds were now undertaking against Notre-Dame was not a very rare thing in the cities of the Middle Ages. What we now call the "police" did not exist then. In populous cities， especially in capitals， there existed no single， central， regulating power. Feudalism had constructed these great communities in a singular manner. A city was an assembly of a thousand seigneuries， which divided it into compartments of all shapes and sizes. Hence， a thousand conflicting establishments of police； that is to say， no police at all. In Paris， for example， independently of the hundred and forty-one lords who laid claim to a manor， there were five and twenty who laid claim to a manor and to administering justice， from the Bishop of Paris， who had five hundred streets， to the Prior of Notre-Dame des Champs， who had four. All these feudal justices recognized the suzerain authority of the king only in name.
All possessed the right of control over the roads. All were at home. Louis XI.， that indefatigable worker， who so largely began the demolition of the feudal edifice， continued by Richelieu and Louis XIV. for the profit of royalty， and finished by Mirabeau for the benefit of the people，--Louis XI. had certainly made an effort to break this network of seignories which covered Paris， by throwing violently across them all two or three troops of general police. Thus， in 1465， an order to the inhabitants to light candles in their windows at nightfall， and to shut up their dogs under penalty of death；in the same year， an order to close the streets in the evening with iron chains， and a prohibition to wear daggers or weapons of offence in the streets at night. But in a very short time， all these efforts at communal legislation fell into abeyance.
The bourgeois permitted the wind to blow out their candles in the windows， and their dogs to stray； the iron chains were stretched only in a state of siege； the prohibition to wear daggers wrought no other changes than from the name of the Rue Coupe-Gueule to the name of the Rue-Coupe-Gorge*which is an evident progress. The old scaffolding of feudal jurisdictions remained standing； an immense aggregation of bailiwicks and seignories crossing each other all over the city， interfering with each other， entangled in one another， enmeshing each other， trespassing on each other； a useless thicket of watches， sub-watches and counter-watches， over which， with armed force， passed brigandage， rapine， and sedition. Hence， in this disorder， deeds of violence on the part of the populace directed against a palace， a hotel， or house in the most thickly populated quarters， were not unheard-of occurrences. In the majority of such cases， the neighbors did not meddle with the matter unless the pillaging extended to themselves.
They stopped up their ears to the musket shots， closed their shutters， barricaded their doors， allowed the matter to be concluded with or without the watch， and the next day it was said in Paris， "Etienne Barbette was broken open last night.
The Marshal de Clermont was seized last night， etc." Hence， not only the royal habitations， the Louvre， the Palace， the Bastille， the Tournelles， but simply seignorial residences， the Petit-Bourbon， the H？tel de Sens， the H？tel d' Angoulême， etc.， had battlements on their walls， and machicolations over their doors. Churches were guarded by their sanctity. Some， among the number Notre-Dame， were fortified. The Abbey of Saint-German-des-Pres was castellated like a baronial mansion， and more brass expended about it in bombards than in bells. Its fortress was still to be seen in 1610. To-day， barely its church remains.
* Cut-throat. Coupe-gueule being the vulgar word for cut-weazand.
Let us return to Notre-Dame.
When the first arrangements were completed， and we must say， to the honor of vagabond discipline， that Clopin's orders were executed in silence， and with admirable precision， the worthy chief of the band， mounted on the parapet of the church square， and raised his hoarse and surly voice， turning towards Notre-Dame， and brandishing his torch whose light， tossed by the wind， and veiled every moment by its own smoke， made the reddish fa？ade of the church appear and disappear before the eye.