"General, I cannot say whether the others will do so, but I doubt if Charras will."
"Why not?"
"Because I hear he was killed over in the direction of la Grève."
"Killed?" he exclaimed. "Ah! poor young fellow!"
"It is not surprising, General;... there was warm work there!"
"Were you there?"
"Yes, indeed! but only for a short time."
"What are you intending to do to-morrow?"
"I confess, General, that was the very question I was going to put to you."
The general leant on my arm and took a few steps forward, as though to get out of sight of his two companions.
"I mean to leave the députies," he said; "there is nothing to be done with them."
"Then why not move without them?"
"Let people drive me to it and I am ready to act."
"Shall I repeat that to my friends?"
"You may."
"Adieu, General!"
He kept hold of my arm.
"Don't get yourself killed...."
"I will try not."
"In any case, no matter how things turn out, manage to let me see you again."
"I can't promise you that, General, unless...."
"Come, come," the general said; "au revoir!"
And he went into his house.
I ran off to Étienne Arago, No. 10 rue de Grammont. All the Revolutionary leaders were gathered at his house. The day had been a hard one, but, thanks to Joubert's library, to Charles Teste'sPetite-Jacobinièreand to Coste, who had spent between three and four thousand francs in buying bread and wine to distribute among the fighters, the insurrection had spread to all parts of the town. I told Étienne I had seen the general and reported what he had said, word for word.
"Come, let us go to theNational!" he said.
And to theNationalwe went.
Taschereau was busy preparing to make a sublime forgery: he and Charles Teste and Béranger concocted a Provisional Government composed of La Fayette, Gérard and the Duc de Choiseul. He did still more: he issued a proclamation which he signed with their three names. He had first chosen Laffey de Pompières as the third member of their Government, but Béranger had had this name erased in order to substitute that of the Duc de Choiseul in its stead. Thus, besides preparing the Revolution by his chansons, Béranger took an active part in it personally. We shall soon see that he was the principal agent in its denouement.
Next day, the list of the Provisional Government was to be stuck up on all the walls of Paris, and the first proclamation of this Government was to appear in theConstitutionnel.I need hardly say that the honestConstitutionnelwas sincere, and that it thought Taschereau's three calligraphic attempts were authentic and legal signatures. Thereupon, I entered my lodgings with an easier mind: as I was quite knocked up with my day's work, I slept as sound as a top through the tolling of Notre-Dame and the intermittent popping of belated stray shots.
Invasion of the Artillery Museum—Armour of François I.—Charles IX.'s arquebuse—La place de l'Odéon—What Charras had been doing—The uniform of the École polytechnique—Millotte—The prison Montaigu—The barracks of l'Estrapade—D'Hostel—A Bonapartist—Riding master Chopin—Lothon—The general in command
Invasion of the Artillery Museum—Armour of François I.—Charles IX.'s arquebuse—La place de l'Odéon—What Charras had been doing—The uniform of the École polytechnique—Millotte—The prison Montaigu—The barracks of l'Estrapade—D'Hostel—A Bonapartist—Riding master Chopin—Lothon—The general in command
I was awakened next morning by my servant Joseph. He was standing by my bedside calling me with ever increasing loudness.
"Monsieur!... Monsieur!!... Monsieur!!!..."
At the thirdMonsieur, I groaned, rubbed my eyes and sat up. "Well," I asked, "what is the matter?"
"Oh, don't you hear, monsieur?" Joseph exclaimed, holding his head with his hands.
"How should I hear, you idiot? I was asleep."
"But fighting is going on all round us, monsieur!"
"Really?"
He opened the window.
"Listen! it sounds as if it were in the courtyard."
And, indeed, the firing seemed to me to come from no very distant point.
"The deuce!" I said, "where does it come from?"
"From Saint-Thomas-d'Aquin, monsieur."
"What! from the church itself?"
"No, from the Artillery Museum.... Monsieur knows that a post is stationed there."
"Ah! true," I exclaimed, "the Artillery Museum! I will go there."
"What! Monsieur will go there?"
"Certainly."
"Oh, good Heavens!"
"Quick, help me!... A glass of Madeira or Alicante wine!... Oh! the wretches! they will pillage everything!"
That, indeed, was the thought which preoccupied my mind, and that was what made me run to the place where I heard the firing going on. I remembered the archæological treasures that I had seen and handled, one after another, in the studies I had written on Henri III., Henri IV. and Louis XIII., and I saw them all being scattered among the hands of people who did not know their value: marvellous rich treasures of art being given to the first comer who would exchange them for a pound of tobacco or a packet of cartridges. I was ready in five minutes and darted off in the direction of Saint-Thomas-d'Aquin. For the third time, the assailants had been repulsed. This was easily explained: they were madly attacking the Museum by the two openings made by the rue du Bac and the rue Saint-Dominique. The firing of the soldiers raked the two streets and swept them clean with deplorable facility. I looked at the houses in the rue du Bac, which on both sides formed the corner of the rue Gribauval, and I judged that their backs must look upon the place Saint-Thomas-d'Aquin, and that from their upper storeys one could easily dominate the post of the Museum of Artillery. I confided to the combatants the plan suggested to me by the view of the position: it was instantly adopted by them. I knocked at the door of one of two houses, No. 35 rue du Bac, and it was opened after a long wait; still, it did open, in the end, and eight to ten armed men entered with me and we rushed upstairs to the higher storeys. I and three or four other fellows reached an attic, which was rounded off at the top to fit the shape of the roof above it, and here I established myself with as much safety as if I had been behind the parapet of a bastion.
Then firing began, but with quite different results. In ten minutes the post had lost five or six of its men. Suddenly, all the soldiers disappeared, the firing died down. This must, we thought, be some kind of ambuscade, so we hesitated before quitting our intrenchments. But the porter of the Museumsoon appeared at the door making unmistakable signs of peace So we went down. The soldiers had scaled the walls and run away over the surrounding courts and gardens. A portion of the insurgents was already crowding up the corridors when I reached the Museum.
"For God's sake, friends," I cried, "respect the armour!"
"What! Why should we respect it?"
"I like that joke," replied one of the men to whom I addressed myself. "Why, to take the weapons is the very reason we are here!" he said.
It then occurred to me that, of course, this must have been the sole object of the attack, and that there would be no means of saving the magnificent collection from pillage. I considered: the only thing left to do was to take my share of the most valuable of the armour.
One of two things would happen: either they would keep the arms or bring them back to the Museum. In either case, it was better that I should take charge of the precious things, rather than anyone else. If I kept them, they would be in the hands of a man who knew how to appreciate them. If they were to be restored, they would be in the hands of one who would give them up. I ran to the best place, where there was an equestrian trophy of the Renaissance period. I seized a shield, a helmet and a sword which were known to have belonged to François I., also a magnificent arquebuse which had belonged, according to the same tradition, to Charles IX., and had been used by him to fire upon the Huguenots. This tradition has become almost historic, on account of the quatrain which the arquebuse carries, inlaid in silver letters, on its barrel, forming one single line from the breech to the sighting-point:—
"Pour mayntenir la foy,Je suis belle et fidèle;Aux ennemis du RoyJe suis belle et cruelle!"
I put the helmet on my head, the shield on my arm; I hung the sword by my side, put the arquebuse on my shoulder, andso made my way, bending under their weight, to the rue de l'Université. I nearly fell when I reached the height of my fourth floor. If these were, indeed, the very shield and buckler that François I. had worn at Marignan, and if he remained fourteen hours in the saddle with these in addition to his other armour, I could believe in the prowess of Ogier the Dane and Roland and the four sons of Aymon.
"Oh! monsieur," Joseph exclaimed, when he caught sight of me, "where have you been, and whatever is all that old iron?"
I did not attempt to correct Joseph's ideas with respect to my booty; it would only have been waste of time. I simply told him to help me to take off the helmet, which nearly suffocated me. I laid them all down on my bed and rushed back for more of this splendid quarry. I brought back next the cuirass, axe and the bulk of the arms. I gave all my fine trophies back, later, to the Artillery Museum, and I still possess the letter of the former Director, thanking me for their restitution, and giving me free entry on days not open to the general public. It was a curious spectacle to see that huge removal of the Museum. Everyone took what suited him best, but it is only fair to say that these worthy fellows were much more careful to select arms they thought most suitable to fight with than sumptuously wrought ones. So nearly the whole of the collection of old muskets, flint and percussion caps, from the time of Louis XIV. to our own day, disappeared. One man took away a rampart gun that must have weighed at least a hundred and fifty pounds; four others dragged a piece of iron cannon with which they meant to attack the Louvre. I found the man who had taken the rampart gun, a couple of hours later, lying unconscious upon the quay. He had rammed his gun with two handfuls of powder and from twelve to fifteen balls; then, from one side of the Seine, leaning it up against the parapet, he had fired upon a regiment of cuirassiers which was marching along by the Louvre. He had made some cruel gaps in the regiment, but the recoil of the gun had flung him ten feet backwards, dislocating his shoulder and breaking his jaw. Before I found him, I had witnessed several scenes characteristicenough to be worth putting down here. Intoxication from wine, brandy or rum is nothing to that caused by the smell of powder, the noise of firing and the sight of blood. I can understand a man flying at the first shot of gun or cannon, but I cannot understand anyone who has once tasted fire leaving before it ceases. At all events, this was the effect it was beginning to have upon myself.
Delanoue, whom I met, who was hunting all over the place for a gun, told me there was going to be a rallying of forces on the place de l'Odéon. I had already heard of this gathering the day before. Unfortunately, I had only my gun with me and I did not wish to part with it; I therefore mentioned to Delanoue the Artillery Museum as a place where he might find what he was in search of, and then I set off at a run down the rue de Grenelle. The place de l'Odéon was blocked and there must have been something like five or six hundred men there. Two or three pupils from the École polytechnique were in command of some companies. In one of these uniforms, I recognised Charras, whom I had seen dressed the previous day as a civilian.
So he was neither killed nor wounded. This is the story of what happened, which had made people believe he was dead.
As will be seen, he had not wasted his time since the day before, and particularly since the morning. When he had parted from Carrel and me, he went through the faubourg Saint-Germain, where he had done his utmost to procure a gun; but, on 28 July 1830, a gun was as scarce as Juvenal'srara avis.He had heard of, themonsieurwho was giving away gunpowder at the small door of the Institut and had gone to have an interview with the worthy citizen. Themonsieurnot only refused to give him a gun, but went still further and refused him any powder because he had no gun.
Charras next made this sapient observation—
"I will go where there is fighting, I will put myself in the midst of the fighters, I will constitute myself the legatee of the first man who falls dead and take possession of his gun."
In consequence of that resolution, he had gone along the quai des Orfèvres and met the 15th Light Infantry, with whomhe held a conversation; perhaps they were the very same I had talked with; but, as he was alone, unarmed and had kept his hands in his pockets, they had let him pass through. When through, Charras gained the Pont Notre-Dame and, from thence, the suspension bridge. Now we know that the insurrection was raging furiously on the latter bridge. Charras arrived half an hour earlier than I did and waited. He did not have to wait long, for a man was soon struck in the eye by a bullet, and rolled at his feet. Charras seized the dead man's gun. A street urchin, who was probably watching for the same opportunity, also ran up, but was too late. Armed with his gun, Charras was still not much better off, for he had neither powder nor shot.
"I have some," the urchin said, and he drew a packet of fifteen cartridges from his pocket.
"Let me have them," said Charras.
"No.... We will divide them, if you like."
"All right, we will."
"Here are seven, then; but let me use the gun after you?"
"I suppose so, since that was our agreement."
Charras scrupulously fired only his seven cartridges, then honourably passed the gun to the urchin and withdrew behind the parapet; from actor he became spectator and, in the latter capacity, he sheltered himself as best he could. The street lad fired four cartridges, and then the charge came that we had witnessed from a distance. The lad rushed on the bridge with the rest, and Charras, although unarmed, followed the stream. I have previously described the effect of the three successive discharges. Charras was spun round under the blast of that whirlwind of iron, and clung on to his neighbour to keep himself from falling; but the man had been mortally wounded and fell, dragging Charras with him. Hence had arisen the rumour that he was killed. By good fortune, however, he escaped safe and sound, but, not feeling too sure of the fact, he tested it by reaching the other side of the quay and threading his way through a little street in the shelter of which he was able, without interruption, to feel himself all over. As for the urchin and his gun, he had toaccept the inevitable: the lad had disappeared like Romulus in the storm, or Curtius in the gulf, or Empedocles in the volcano! Charras then began to wonder what possible use a man could be without a gun, or who did not know where to procure one. A band of patriots, unarmed, like himself, happening to pass at the same moment, seemed to have come for the express purpose of answering his question.
"Well, citizen," one of the men said, "will you come along with us to sound the tocsin from Saint-Séverin?"
"All right!" Charras replied, it being a matter of indifference to him where he went, so long as he took some part in being useful to the cause. And he went with them to Saint-Séverin. The doors were shut; they knocked at all, little and great, from the door for marriages and baptisms down to the door of the last Sacrament. In cases like this, decisions are quickly arrived at: they decided to burst the doors open, as they would not open of their own accord; they tore away a beam from a house that was being built and a dozen men carried it to serve as a battering-ram. At the third charge delivered by this huge implement against the door, the locks and bolts gave way. The sacristan arrived upon the scene and opened the door altogether, just as a fourth blow was going to break it in. When the door was opened, they soon set the bell ringing, and Charras's work at Saint-Séverin was concluded. He went to join a party of friends in the Latin Quarter, with whom he spent the night constructing a plan.
Now, the uniform worn by the students of the École polytechnique had been very much looked down upon before the insurrection was declared, but had gone up in reputation very considerably as the insurrection advanced. The plan made during the night was to go at daybreak in search of uniforms of the École polytechnique. So, about four in the morning, Charras, with a friend of his, called Lebeuf, rang at the porter's gate. The rise in sentiment had made its way even to the École, and both porter and professors gave the two rebels a warm reception, shaking hands with them and giving them the clothes they asked for.
I remember one small incident: Charras, having found a coat, apparently was not able to find trousers to match; for, with a blue coat, he wore grey trousers, which, as a uniform, was rather meagre. The two friends thus being fitted with uniforms and particularly with hats—the hat always plays an important rôle in insurrections—they made their way to the place de l'Odéon. They heard,en route, that guns were being distributed in the rue de Tournon. Indeed, the barracks of the Gendarmerie had just been captured, and muskets, pistols, sabres and swords were being distributed in a fairly orderly manner.
Charras and Lebeuf joined the queue, but, when they reached the office, those in the barracks would only give them swords, because they said that students from the École polytechnique were all officers by right and, in that capacity, were destined to command detachments; they ought, therefore, to receive swords and not guns.
Not even the most earnest entreaties of these two young people were able to change the programme—they would only give them swords and no other arms. But a student of colossal stature and herculean strength did not accept this improvised lawmaking so easily as Lebeuf and Charras had done: he seized the distributor by the throat and began to strangle him, telling him he would not let him go until he had a gun. The distributor seemed to consider the argument sound, for he hastened to give a gun to the merry blade who could put into action so sensible an application of that branch of philosophy we call logic; and the student went away armed to his own liking. This was Millotte who, afterwards, became a representative of the People and who sat in the Legislative Assembly with Lamartine and our friend Noël Parfait. Millotte is now one of our most respected exiles. In virtue of his uniform, his sword and the rights possessed by the students of the École to become officers, Charras took the command of a troop of a hundred and fifty men. A drummer and standard-bearer put the finishing touch to this troop. Then the question was where to go? A voice shouted—
"To the prison Montaigu, place du Panthéon!"
So Charras and his troop started for that destination.
Revolutions have their mysterious winds which blow men to one point or another without any apparent reason; they are the waterspouts that blow up from under the ocean and they go south or north, east or west, how or why nobody knows. It is the breath of God which guides them. At the prison Montaigu, they found a hundred and fifty men under arms, ready to defend themselves. A brewer from the rue Saint-Antoine, named Maes, was there—another Santerre—with some sixty insurgents. He was on horseback and wore the old uniform of the National Guard. The struggle had threatened to become hot, and they were trying to come to terms.
"Hulloa! Captain," cried Charras, "will you come to me, or would you rather I came to you?"
"Come to me, monsieur," the captain replied.
"I have your parole?"
"Yes."
Charras then approached him, and there ensued a dialogue between them, the offspring of their peculiar situation, which could not have taken place under other circumstances—a dialogue in which Charras tried to prove to the captain that it would be far more advantageous and honourable and patriotic for him to join the people's side or, at the very least, to lend them guns. The captain did not seem to understand Charras's logic so well as the distributor of muskets in the rue de Tournon had understood that of Millotte. Charras redoubled his eloquence, but made no headway; yet if he failed to advance, his men did not: they came up nearer, little by little.
The reader knows the true Parisian, who never gives up his end but presses towards it out of curiosity or passion; he slips through the hands of police, sentries and squadrons, dragging one foot after the other, with honied tones and wooing gesture, part cat, part fox; then, if you want to keep him back, he is soon far away! When you want to stop him, heis already past you! And, as soon as he feels himself out of your reach, his sole answer to your reproaches is a mocking gesture or a sarcastic remark.
In such fashion had Charras's men slipped past the sentinels and come up imperceptibly to their commander, and, consequently, nearer to the soldiers; so effectively was this movement executed that, in five minutes' time, before Charras had himself perceived them, they were within ten paces of their adversaries and ready for a hand-to-hand tussle with them. Whether it was the mingling of the forces or the names of Jena, Austerlitz and Marengo of which Charras reminded them; whether it was the tricolour ribbons, with their stirring tones of colour, that floated before his eyes; or whether he really felt a brotherly sympathy extended to him, which decided the officer to capitulate, Charras did not know; but he realised that a capitulation was arrived at, that his troop obtained fifty guns and the captain's word of honour that he and his soldiers would remain neutral. True, the captain was inexorable in his refusal of cartridges; but Providence did not stop thus half-way: it had given the guns, it was also to bestow the requisite cartridges.
The fifty guns were distributed among those of Charras's men who had no firearms, and among those of a fresh troop that had come up meanwhile, who were in the same plight. This new troop was commanded by another student of the École polytechnique called d'Hostel. The division made, again the question arose as to where they were to go.
"To the Estrapade!" cried a voice.
"To the Estrapade!" all the voices repeated in unison.
So off they rushed towards the Estrapade.
Our Parisian readers will know the position of the barracks of the Estrapade, and that they are approached by a narrow street which is easily defended. There were nearly four hundred men; quite enough, in like circumstances, to attack Metz or Valenciennes or Mont-Saint-Michel; but they were so elated with their recent negotiations at the place du Panthéon that they decided to try the same tactics in the rue de l'Estrapade. This time d'Hostel proposed himself asnegotiator; for, he said, he had accomplices inside the place. He advanced with a handkerchief in his hand, leaving his gun with one of his men. They held a parley between the street and the first floor; but this was too high up to be heard, so d'Hostel cleared the distance between himself and his interlocutors by suddenly climbing up the wall. How did he do that? It was a miracle to those who watched his ascent! D'Hostel was extremely adroit, and renowned at the École for his gymnastic feats. In an instant, he had reached one of the windows on the first floor, he was lifted in by his arms and found himself inside the barracks, where he was swallowed up like the fiends in English theatres which disappear through trap-doors. Ten minutes later, he reappeared, clad in the coat and leather cap of the officer, whilst the latter wore the uniform of a pupil of the École polytechnique, with the three-cornered hat in his hand, and bowed to the people. The game was won! The square resounded with vivats and applause. The soldiers abandoned the barracks and surrendered a hundred of their guns. This ruse, executed by Charras and d'Hostel, was worthy of winning them the posts of ambassadors to London and St. Petersburg! But, unluckily, the deed either did not reach the ears of the Government or was not properly appreciated by it, so they sent instead, to those two cities, M. le Prince de Talleyrand and M. le Maréchal Maison, who confined themselves to committing stupid acts.
Full of pride at this second triumph of theirs, Charras and d'Hostel reached the place de l'Odéon. I was struck with the ease with which drums seem to multiply during a time of Revolution; they appear to ooze out of walls and rise out of the pavements—Charras and d'Hostel had about fifteen between them. At the same time that we reached the place de l'Odéon, a piece of cannon that had been taken from the post was being drawn through the rue des Fossés-Monsieur-le-Prince by five men, three of whom were firemen; next came a carriage, containing three barrels of powder from the powder magazine at the Jardin des Plantes; I think it was driven byLiédot, who has since become an artillery captain. The barrels were broken open and the distribution of their contents begun. Everybody had some, either in his coat pocket or handkerchief or cap or tobacco pouch. They were smoking amidst all this, incredible as it may appear. How Jean Bart would have shuddered from head to foot! But they very soon discovered that all this powder was useless and that the best thing to do with it would be to make it into cartridges. This was the more feasible since they had just received two or three thousand bullets from the passage Dauphine. Four men were occupied in moulding them out of the lead of the gutters, in a tavern to the left of the square as you come to it from the rue de l'Odéon. The only thing they lacked was paper. However, all the windows facing the square were wide open and they only had to cry out "Paper is wanted!" and soon the air was flecked with projectiles of every shape and description, but of the same material: paper fell in exercise-books, in reams and in volumes. I was very nearly knocked down by aGradus ad Parnassum!
Amongst the crowds were about a hundred old soldiers, who set to work and, in less than an hour made and distributed three thousand cartridges. The spectacle must have been seen in order to realise the animation, high spirits and gaiety that prevailed. Everybody called out something, whether "Vive la République!" or "Vive la Charte!" One man of Charras's band made himself hoarse with shouting "Vive Napoléon II.!" The oft-repeated cry at length exciting Charras, who was already, at that period, a strong Republican, he went to this Bonapartist and said—
"Look here, do you suppose we are fighting for Napoleon II.?"
"You can fight for whom you like," the man replied, "but that's the man I mean to fight for!"
"You have the right to, if you wish it, of course.... But if you fight for him you must enlist in some other troop than this."
"Oh! that will suit me all right," said the man: "there are plenty of engagements going on nowadays!"
He therefore left Charras's ranks and went to seek service in a troop led by a chief who was of less decided opinions.
At this very moment, by some strange coincidence, a man called Chopin, who owned the stables of the Luxembourg, arrived at a gallop at the place de l'Odéon; he was clad in a buttoned-up frock-coat, wore a three-cornered hat and rode a white horse. He pulled up in the very centre of the square, with one hand held behind his back. The resemblance to Napoleon was so striking and extraordinary that the whole crowd, not a single member of which had taken sides with the expelled Bonapartist, began to shout with one accord and simultaneously, "Vive l'Émpereur!" One good woman of seventy took the joke quite seriously and fell on her knees, making the sign of the cross, and exclaiming—
"Oh! Jesus! I shall not die, then, before I have seen him once more!..."
If Chopin had desired to put himself at the head of the six to eight hundred men there present, it is probable that he could have marched straight off to Vienna.
Charras was furious, whilst I completely forgot the political situation of the moment and became solely a philosophic student of humanity. I only needed a tub and Laïs and I could have established myself there for ever in the place de l'Odéon, as Diogenes established himself in the gymnasium of Corinth.
But a serious discussion drew me from my dreams. They wanted to make Charras general-in-chief and he would not take the position. He offered the citizens Lothon, a tall, fine young fellow, a combination of Hercules and Antinous, as a suitable candidate, instead; his principal reason being that he was on foot while Lothon rode on horseback; therefore, he considered Lothon had far more claim to the generalship. And, in truth, no general-in-chief was ever seen afoot. But Lothon excused himself fiercely from being appointed to this high post. For all this, he was on the point of beingobliged to yield, when a gentleman came up to him and whispered—
"Oh! monsieur, if you will not be general-in-chief, let me take your place.... I am an ex-captain and I think I have a right to this honour."
Never did ambition display itself at a more fitting opportunity.
"Oh! monsieur," Lothon replied, "you will indeed render me a welcome service!"
Then, addressing the crowd, he asked—
"You want a general-in-chief?"
"Yes, yes!" was repeated on all sides.
"Well, then, I introduce this gentleman to you ... he is an ex-captain who iscovered with woundsand who would much like to be your general-in-command."
"Bravo!" a hundred voices shouted.
"Pardon me for covering you with wounds, my dear monsieur," said Lothon, as he stepped to the ground and presented his horse to the newly elected chief; "but I thought it the surest method of getting you promoted above the intermediate ranks."
"Oh! monsieur," the delighted captain said, "there is no harm done!"
Then he addressed the crowd—
"Well," he asked, "are we ready?"
"Yes! yes! yes!"
"Then forward, march! Beat drums!"
And the drums began to beat, and they all went down the rue de l'Odéon singingla Marseillaise.At the Bussy crossing, from some strategic manœuvre unknown to me, the troop divided itself into three. One part went towards the rue Sainte-Marguerite, another to the rue Dauphine and the third went straight on: I was among the latter. We had to approach the Louvre by the Pont des Arts, in order to take the bull by the horns. It was on coming out on the quay that I found the man with the rampart gun leant up against the wall, groaning, both his shoulder and his jaw dislocated.
Oh! I must not forget to say that at every street-corner I had seen stuck up on the walls bills announcing the nomination of the Provisional Government and the proclamation by MM. La Fayette, Gérard and de Choiseul calling the people to arms. What a singular effect it would have produced on those three gentlemen if they had been in my place and read what I read!
Aspect of the Louvre—Fight on the Pont des Arts—The dead and wounded—A cannon ball for myself—Madame Guyet-Desfontaines—Return from the Babylone barracks—Charras's cockade—The taking of the Tuileries—A copy ofChristine—Quadrille danced in the Tuileries court—The menwho made the Revolution of 1830
Aspect of the Louvre—Fight on the Pont des Arts—The dead and wounded—A cannon ball for myself—Madame Guyet-Desfontaines—Return from the Babylone barracks—Charras's cockade—The taking of the Tuileries—A copy ofChristine—Quadrille danced in the Tuileries court—The menwho made the Revolution of 1830
It was thirty-five minutes past ten in the morning by the Institut clock. The Louvre presented a formidable appearance. All the windows of the great picture galleries were open, and at each window there were two Swiss Guards armed with guns. The Charles IX. balcony was defended by Swiss who had made a rampart with mattresses. And then, behind, through the gratings of the two gardens that are, I believe, named the garden of the Infante and the garden of the Queen, we could see drawn up a double line of Swiss. In the foreground, a regiment of cuirassiers wound in and out along the parapet, like a great snake with scales of steel and gold, whose head had already entered the Tuileries gate, whilst its tail still trailed along the quai de l'École. In the background, away in the distance, stood the Louvre Colonnade, almost invisible from the cloud of smoke which arose by reason of the attack made upon it from the small streets surrounding the church of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois. On the right, the Tricolour was floating from Notre-Dame and the Hôtel de Ville. And the breezes carried the trembling vibrations of the tocsin. A fiery sun burned high in the white, hot sky. They were firing all along the quay, especially from the windows and door of a little guard-house, situated by the river-side, opposite the point where the rue des Saints-Pères runs into the quay Malaquais. However, both attack and defence were weak:everyone seemed to be there because he thought it was his duty, and people were mauling one another to pass the time, till some leader came along to organise sides.
Our arrival created a diversion just when interest had begun to flag. There were about a hundred and twenty of us. We divided ourselves in half (Égaillâmes, as they say in the Vendean patois), one part going back by the Pont Neuf side and the other going along by the Palais Mazarin, as far as the small guard-house already referred to. I first of all settled myself under one of the turnstile shelters, but I soon saw that I should be constantly disturbed by people coming and going past. I therefore made for the fountain and installed myself behind the bronze lion that was nearest to the rue Mazarine. I had the great entrance gate of the palace, therefore, on my right, which, like that of the Jubilee at St. Peter's in Rome, is only opened once in fifty years. I had the small door leading to the apartments of persons who lodged at the Institut on my left. Thus, in front of me was the Pont des Arts, which presented an object to my view that inspired me with some disquiet, for it looked very like a piece of cannon in position. It had a magnificent target before it: no less than a whole regiment of cuirassiers presenting its flank! And, behind these, the Swiss in their red coats with their white lace facings, not two hundred yards off. The mere thought of the situation made one's mouth water; to dwell on it made the perspiration stand out on one's forehead.
I have elsewhere described my sensations when confronted with danger—I approach it at first reluctantly, but very quickly familiarise myself with it. Now, my apprenticeship of the previous day upon the quay Notre-Dame, and of the morning following at the Artillery Museum, had removed my first feelings of fear. Moreover, I ought to say that my position was a good one and that it would take either a very extreme chance, or a very clever marksman, for a bullet to find me out behind my lion. I therefore watched with much coolness the scene I am about to describe.
Out of the hundred or hundred and twenty combatants, theuniforms of two soldiers of the National Guard were hardly noticeable. Most of the men who composed the gathering in the midst of which I found myself were of the lower classes—shopmen and students and street lads. All were armed with muskets or fowling-pieces, the latter in the proportion of one to fifteen. The street boys had either pistols or sabres or swords, and one of the most zealous of them had only a bayonet. Usually, it was the street lads who marched in front and were the first in any row; whether from recklessness or ignorance of danger I cannot say. Probably it was the influence of young hot blood, which from the age of eighteen pulses in the veins of man at the rate of from seventy-five to eighty-five beats to the minute; then gradually calms down, but, with each expiring pulsation, deposits at the bottom of every heart a shameful vice or an evil thought.
While the regiment of cuirassiers was passing, the fusillade from the Royal troops was mild and, although very active on our side, it must be confessed it was without much effect. They were hampered by the line of horse soldiers which was passing between them and us. But the last rider had scarcely passed the second garden gate before the real music began. The heat was insupportable and there was not a breath of air stirring. The smoke from the guns of the Swiss Guards, therefore, only cleared away very slowly; soon the whole of the Louvre was surrounded by a girdle of smoke which hid the Royal troops from our eyes as completely as the painted clouds, which rise from the wings of a theatre at the epilogue to a drama, hide the apotheosis being prepared at the back of the stage from the gaze of the spectators. It was only wasting shot to attempt to pierce that curtain of smoke. Every now and then, however, a hole was made, and one could catch a glimpse, through the clearing, of the white facings on the red coats and the gilded plates on the bearskin caps of the Swiss Guard.
This was the opportunity the true marksmen waited for, and it was very seldom that one did not see two or three men totter and disappear behind their comrades. From our side,during the first attack, we had one man killed and two wounded. The man that was killed was hit in the top of the forehead whilst kneeling behind the parapet to take aim. He leapt up as though on springs, took a few steps backwards, dropped his musket, turned round twice, fighting the air with his arms, then fell on his face. One of the two who were wounded was a street lad. His injury was in the flesh of the thigh. He had not hid behind the parapet, but had danced on top of it with a pocket pistol in his hand. He went off, hopping away upon one leg, and disappeared down the rue de Seine. The other man's wound was more serious. He had received a ball in the stomach. He fell in a sitting posture, with both hands pressed on the wounded part, which scarcely bled at all. The hæmorrhage was probably internal. He was seized with thirst in about ten minutes and dragged himself towards me, but, when he reached the fountain, he had not sufficient strength to get to the basin and he called me to his assistance. I gave him a hand and helped him to climb up. He drank more than ten mouthfuls in as many minutes; and between the drinks he said—
"Oh! the beggars! They have not missed me!"
And when, from time to time, he saw me put my gun to my shoulder, he added—
"Be sure you don't miss them!"
Finally, at the end of half an hour, this useless fusillading was discontinued. Two or three men exclaimed—
"To the Louvre! To the Louvre!"
It was madness, for it was evident enough that there were only a hundred men or so to deal with two or three hundred of the Swiss Guard. But, under circumstances like those I am describing, people do not stop to think of the most reasonable things to be done; since the very work they are engaged in is almost itself an act of insanity, it is generally some impossible feat they determine to attempt.
A drummer beat the charge and was the first to dash upon the bridge. All the street lads followed him, shouting, "Vive la Charte!" and the main body followed them. I ought toconfess that I formed no part of the main body. As I said, from my slightly elevated post I could distinguish a gun in position. Now, while it could do nothing but scatter grapeshot haphazard, it had kept perfectly quiet; but, directly the assailants debouched on to the bridge, it was unmasked: it showed itself in its true colours.... I saw the smoking match approach the touchhole, I effaced myself behind my lion, and, at the same instant, I heard the sound of the explosion and the whistle of grapeshot as it splintered the façade of the Institut. The stone broken by the projectiles fell in a perfect shower round me. Identically the same thing happened on the Pont des Arts as took place on the suspension bridge. All the men who were stationed in the narrow space whirled round; only three or four continued their march forward and five or six fell, twenty-five or thirty stood firm and the rest took to their heels. A platoon fire succeeded the cannon, and bullets sang all round me; soon, my wounded comrade uttered a sigh: a second bullet had finished him off. Almost immediately after the platoon firing, the cannon roared out again and the storm of shot passed over my head a second time. At the second charge, there was no further thought of advancing, and two men, regarding the water as safer than the planks of the bridge, leapt into the Seine and swam to the quay of the Institut. The rest came back with lightning speed, like a flock of frightened birds, and rushed down the rue Mazarine, the rue des Petits-Augustins and the sort of blind alley which skirts the Mint.
The quay was instantly deserted, and, though I am by no means vain, I may state that this third cannon-shot was fired for me alone. I had a long time previously formed my plan of retreat, and I based it on the small door of the Institut, which was on my left. Scarcely had the gun been fired a third time, before the smoke had dispersed and allowed my manœuvre to be seen, I rushed out and knocked at the door with loud blows with the butt-end of my gun. It opened without keeping me long waiting: I will pay that much justice to the porter, though, generally, in Revolutionary times, porters are not so smart. I slipped in through the half-opened doorway into shelter. Asthe porter was shutting the door, a bullet pierced it, but without wounding him. When inside, I had quite a choice of friends: I went upstairs to see Madame Guyet-Desfontaines. I should mention that, at first sight, my appearance did not produce the effect I expected. They did not immediately know me; then, when they had recognised 'me, they considered me pretty badly dressed. My readers will recollect how I had arrayed myself for the occasion. I went and fetched my gun, which I had left outside the door for fear of frightening Madame Guyet and her daughter. The gun soon explained matters. Directly she recognised me, Madame Guyet became her charmingly sprightly, animated self, in spite of the gravity of the situation: she is, in this respect, quite incorrigible. I was nearly dead with hunger, and especially with thirst; I thereupon unaffectedly made my wants known to my hosts. They brought me a bottle of Bordeaux, which I drank almost at one draught. They also brought me a huge bowl of chocolate, and that disappeared also. I believe I must have eaten everyone else's breakfast!
"Ah!" I said, parodying Napoleon's remark on his return from Russia, as I stretched myself in a big arm-chair, "it is much better here than behind the Institut lion!"
Of course, I had to give an account of my Iliad, which, up to then, consisted of one victory and two retreats. True, the last retreat—with the exception of the embarrassment of having ten thousand men under me—might be likened to that of Xenophon. But, on the other hand, the first might be compared with a Waterloo. I made honourable mention of the lion, which had probably saved my life, and which possessed, under the circumstances, that superiority over Androcles' lion, that it was not repaying a kind act done to it. The upshot of the delightful welcome I received (the minutest details whereof I can still remember, after the lapse of more than twenty-two years) was that Madame Guyet-Desfontaines' house all but became to me what Capua was to Hannibal two thousand years before. However, with a little moral courage, I had the advantage over the conqueror of Trebia, Cannes and Trasimèneof tearing myself away in time from the delights that were spread before me.
I went away by the little gate opening into the rue Mazarine and regained my lodgings in the rue de l'Université. This time I was received by my porter as a hero; the position of affairs soon declared itself. Instead of showing me the door, it was now a question of raising an Arc de triomphe for me! Joseph was rubbing up the armour belonging to François I.
"Ah! monsieur," he said, "how beautiful it is! I had not discovered all the little absurdities that there are on it."
He meant the battle scenes.
I went home to change my shirt (pardon this detail, it will be seen, later, that it was not without importance in my story), and also to renew my stock of powder and bullets. But I had not had time to take off my jacket before I heard a great uproar in the street outside. It was made by Charras and his troop returning from the barracks in the rue de Babylone. There had been a frightful slaughter: after half an hour's siege, they had been obliged to set fire to the barracks, to dislodge the Swiss Guard. They carried the red coats of the vanquished enemy at the point of their bayonets as victorious trophies. Charras (he must remember the circumstance well enough to-day, for he is not one of those who forget) wore a sleeve from some Swiss Guard's coat in place of the cockade, which was fastened to the top of his three-cornered hat and fell coquettishly over his shoulder. They were all marching upon the Tuileries, with drums to the fore.
At the same moment, the cries increased, coming from the direction of the château. I turned my eyes in the direction whence they came and, from my window, which looked out on the rue du Bac, I saw thousands of letters and papers fluttering into the Tuileries garden. It looked as though all the wood pigeons about the place were taking flight. It was the correspondence of Napoleon, of Louis XVIII. and of Charles X. being scattered to the winds. The Tuileries had been taken. Although I was not Crillon, I was seized witha sudden desire to go and hang myself. Now, a man in that state of mind does not think it worth while changing his shirt. So I replaced my jacket and rushed downstairs. I rejoined the tail of the column just as it entered the Tuileries by the gate at the water-side. On the pavilion in the centre, the Tricolour had replaced the White standard. Joubert, the patriot of the Dauphine passage, had planted it on the roof and had then fainted away, from fatigue or joy, or probably both combined. The gates of the Carrousel had been forced open and people were rushing in by every door, among them hundreds of women: where did they spring from? No one who witnessed the spectacle will ever forget it. One student of the École polytechnique, named Baduel, was being drawn in triumph on a cannon. Like Achilles, he had been wounded in the heel, but, in his case, by grapeshot, and not by a poisoned arrow. Neither did he die, although he expected he should. Had he lost his life on that occasion it would not have been from his wounds, but from brain-fever, consequent on fatigue, heat and the exhaustion he had felt during the triumph they had compelled him to submit to, in spite of his remonstrances, by reason of the high courage he had shown. Another student, with a bullet through his chest, was lying on the staircase: they took him up in their arms, carried him to the first storey and laid him upon the throne embroidered with fleurs de lys, where over ten thousand of the populace seated themselves in turn, or several at a time, throughout that day. Through the windows that looked out on the garden, one could see the tail end of a regiment of Lancers, as they disappeared under the great trees. A cab was trying to catch them up; the horse was galloping fast, for, no doubt, the driver wanted to put himself under protection of the regiment.
The Tuileries was crowded: people were recognising their friends among the crowd and embracing and questioning one another—
"Where is such and such a person?"
"He is over there!"
"Where?"
"There!"
Another was wounded—or dead!
And each made a gesture as funeral oration, signifying, "It is a pity! but, bless me, he died on a grand day!"
And on they would go, from the throne-room to the king's private study, from there to the king's bedroom. The king's bed, by the way, must have been out of the common, although I never knew what went on in that room; for, to judge by the number of spectators that surrounded it and by their shouts of laughter, something outrageous must have taken place round it. Perhaps a mock wedding of Democracy with Liberty! And again the crowd moved on, each individual mingling his voice and gesticulations with those of the multitude. On they went, following those who walked ahead, pushed forward by the crowds behind. They reached the Marshals' Hall. I had never seen these rooms before, and did not see them again until the fall of King Louis-Philippe, in 1848.
During the eighteen years' reign of the Younger Branch I never set foot in the Tuileries, except to visit the Duc d'Orléans. But, be it understood, the Marsan pavilion is not in the least degree part of the Tuileries, and it was very often a reason for not going to the Tuileries if one were sent for to the Marsan pavilion. Forgive the digression, but I am glad to flout those who might say they had seen me with the king.
The crowd had, as I say, reached the Salle des Maréchaux. The frame of the portrait of M. de Bourmont, who had recently been made a marshal, already occupied its position on one of the panels; but although the name had even been printed on the frame, the portrait had not yet been inserted. In place of the canvas, by way of substitute no doubt, there was a large piece of scarlet taffetas. This was torn down and used to make the red portion of the tricolour favours which each person wore in his buttonhole. I detached a morsel which had been diverted to this end. As I was disputing with my neighbours over this strip of stuff, I heard the sound of several gunshots. They were shooting at the portrait of the Duc de Raguse inlieu of the original. Four balls had pierced the canvas, one through the head, two in the breast and the fourth through the background of the picture. A man of the people climbed up on the shoulders of a comrade and, with his knife, cut out the portrait in the shape of a medallion; then, passing his bayonet through the breast and head, he carried it as the Roman lictors used to carry the S.P.Q.R. at their triumphs. The portrait had been painted by Gérard. I went up to the man and offered him a hundred francs for his trophy.
"Oh! citizen," he said, "I would not let you have it if you offered me a thousand."
Alophe Pourrat next went up to him and offered him his gun in exchange and got the portrait. He probably has it still.
As I entered the library of the Duchesse de Berry, I noticed a copy ofChristine, bound in purple morocco and stamped with the duchess's arms, lying upon a little work-table. I thought I had a right to appropriate it. I afterwards gave it to my cousin Félix Deviolaine; who has probably lost it. I had gone in by the pavilion de Flore and I went out by the pavilion Marsan. In the courtyard there was a quadrille of four men, dancing to the piping of a fife and a violin: it was an early Cancan that was being danced. They were dressed in court dress, with plumed hats, and the wardrobes of Mesdames les Duchesses d'Angoulême and de Berry had furnished the costumes for the masquerade. One of these men had a cashmere shawl on his shoulders worth quite a thousand crowns. It would have been perfectly safe to bet that he had not a five-franc piece in his pocket. By the end of the country dance the shawl was in tatters.
Now, how did it come to pass that the Louvre and the Tuileries and Carrousel, with their Cuirassiers and Lancers and Swiss, their Royal Guard and artillery, with three or four thousand men in garrison besides, had been taken by four or five hundred insurgents? This is what happened.
Four attacks were directed upon the Louvre: the first by the Palais-Royal; the second from the rue des Poulies, therue des Prêtres-Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois and the quai de l'École; the third by the Pont des Arts, and the fourth by the Pont Royal. The first was led by Lothon, whom, as it will be remembered, we left at the top of rue Guénégaud. He had been hit in the head by a bullet and had fallen unconscious in the place du Palais-Royal. The second was conducted by Godefroy Cavaignac, Joubert, Thomas, Bastide, Degousée, Grouvelle and the brothers Lebon, etc. It was they who took the Louvre, as will be seen presently. The third was that which had taken place by the Pont des Arts—the result is known. The fourth, that of the rue du Bac, did not cross the bridge in reality, until the Tuileries was taken.
We have given an account of the second attack which captured the Louvre. This success was due, in the first case, to the admirable courage shown by the assailants and, afterwards, it must be confessed, by chance, to a false manœuvre: we will call it so in consideration of the feelings of those who decline to recognise the intervention of Providence in human affairs.
One anecdote will be sufficient to give an idea of the courage of the assailants. A child of twelve had climbed, like a chimney-sweep, up one of the wooden shafts which are erected against the Colonnade to put rubbish in, and he had planted a tricolour flag on the Louvre in the face of the Swiss. Fifty shots had been fired at him and he had been lucky enough to escape without a single one disturbing him! Just at this moment, as enthusiastic shouts greeted the successful issue of the child's mad feat, the Duc de Raguse, who had concentrated his forces round the Carrousel for a last struggle, learnt that the soldiers stationed on the place Vendôme had begun to enter into communication with the people.
The capture of the place Vendôme meant the occupation of the rue de Rivoli, of the conquest of the place Louis XV.,—meant, in a word, that retreat on Saint-Cloud and Versailles was cut off. The Louvre was especially guarded by twobattalions of Swiss. One alone would have been enough for its defence. So the marshal conceived the notion of replacing the troops on the place Vendôme (who, as we have just said, were threatening defection) by one of these two battalions of Swiss. He despatched his aide-de-camp, M. de Guise, to M. de Salis, who was in command of the two battalions. M. de Guise carried orders to bring back these two battalions. M. de Salis, on receipt of this order, saw no objection to carrying it out. He was the more ready to follow it, as one single battalion was enough to defend the Louvre, and that one had, indeed, been defending it successfully since the morning. The other battalion had been standing in the courtyard with arms at rest. M. de Salis next conceived the very natural idea of sending the Duc de Raguse, not the reserve battalion stationed in the courtyard, but the one which had been fighting since the morning from the balcony of Charles IX. and the windows of the picture galleries, on the Colonnade du Louvre side. He therefore commanded the fresh battalion to the place of the fatigued one. But he made this mistake—instead of ordering the fresh battalion to come up, he first ordered the tired battalion to go down. This manœuvre was executed just at the moment of the highest enthusiasm and the greatest efforts of the assailants. They saw the Swiss retire, the firing grow feebler and then cease altogether; they believed their enemies were beating a retreat and they sprang forward. The movement was so impetuous that, before the second battalion had taken the place of those who were being withdrawn, the people had entered by all the wicket gates and gratings, had spread over the deserted rooms on the ground floor and were firing from the windows on the court.
When the Swiss saw the flames and smoke, they thought the awful and bloody scenes of the 10th of August were about to be repeated. Uneasy, surprised and taken unprepared, not knowing if their comrades had retired by superior orders or were beating a retreat, they recoiled and tumbled hurriedly over one another, never attempting even to return the fire that was decimating their ranks; they crushed through the door leadingout on the place du Carrousel, suffocating and treading one another down and flying in complete rout as soon as they were through the gateway. The Duc de Raguse vainly flung himself into their midst to try to rally them. Most did not understand French, so could not tell what was said to them; moreover, fear had turned to terror and fright to panic. You know what the angel of fear can do when he shakes his wings over the mob: the fugitives drove everything before them,—cuirassiers, lancers, police,—crossed that huge space, the place du Carrousel, without stopping, cleared the Tuileries gate and scattered themselves in every direction over the garden. Meanwhile, the assailants had reached the first landing, rushed through the picture gallery, which they found without defenders, and proceeded to break in the door at the end of the galleries that leads from the Louvre to the Tuileries. After that, resistance was no longer possible: the defenders of the château fled as best they could; the garden and both the terraces were crowded; the Duc de Raguse was among the last to withdraw and left the gate de l'Horloge just when Joubert was planting the Tricolour above his head, and when the people were raining down from the windows papers from the king's study. The marshal found a piece of cannon being taken away at the top of the jardin d'Hippomène and d'Atalante; and, at his command, it was replaced in its battery and a final volley was fired from it towards the Tuileries, which had ceased to be the dwelling-place of kings and had become the people's prize; one of its bullets, a posthumous present from Monarchy, as it were, cut one of the charming little grooved pillars on the first floor in two. This last cannon shot did no harm except to Philibert Delorme's masterpiece, but seemed as though it saluted the Tricolour which was waving over the pavilion de l'Horloge.
The Revolution of 1830 was accomplished. Accomplished (we will repeat it, print it, engrave it if necessary on iron and brass, on bronze and steel), accomplished, not alone by the cautious actors of the past fifteen years' comedy, who hid, as it were, behind the wings, whilst the people played that ThreeDays' bloody drama; not only by Casimir Périer, Laffitte, Benjamin Constant, Sébastiani, Guizot, Mauguin, by Choiseul, Odilon Barrot and the three Dupins. No! those actors were not even behind the wings; that would have been too near the stage for them! They kept at home, carefully guarded, hermetically sealed. With such as they, there was never any mention of resistance other than one legally organised, and, when the Louvre and Tuileries were being taken, they still went on discussing in their drawing-rooms the terms of a protest which many of them yet considered too risky a step to forward. The people who accomplished the Revolution of 1830 were those I saw at work, and who saw me there in their midst; those who entered the Louvre and the Tuileries by the broken doors and windows were, alas! (I may be pardoned this mournful exclamation, since most of them are now either dead or prisoners or exiled), Godefroy Cavaignac, Baude, Degousée, Higonnet, Grouvelle, Coste, Guinard, Charras, Étienne Arago, Lothon, Millotte, d'Hostel, Chalas, Gauja, Baduel, Bixio, Goudchaux, Bastide, the three brothers Lebon (Olympiade, Charles and Napoleon: the first was killed and the other two wounded in the attack on the Louvre), Joubert, Charles Teste, Taschereau, Béranger and others whose forgiveness I ask if I have either forgotten or not named them. I also ask pardon of some of those whom I name and who would perhaps prefer not to have been mentioned. Those who accomplished the Revolution of 1830 were the fiery youths of the heroic Proletariat which, it is true, lit the fires, but extinguished them with their own blood; those men of the people who are scattered when the work is achieved, and who die of hunger after having mounted guard by the Treasury gates, who stand on tiptoe with bare feet, in the streets, to watch the convivial parasites of power admitted to the care of offices, to the plums of good posts and to a share in all high honours, to the detriment of their less fortunate brethren.
The men who made the Revolution of 1830 were the same who, two years later, were killed at Saint-Mery for the samecause. But, this time, a change of name was given them just because they themselves had not changed their principles, and, instead of being called "heroes," they were styled "rebels." Only those renegades who change their opinions to suit the times can avoid the epithet of rebel, when different powers succeed one another.
I go in search of Oudard—The house at the corner of the rue de Rohan—Oudard is with Laffitte—Degousée—General Pajol and M. Dupin—The officers of the 53rd Regiment—Interior of Laffitte's salon—Panic—A deputation comes to offer La Fayette the command of Paris—He accepts—Étienne Arago and the tricoloured cockade—History of the Hôtel de Ville from eight in the morning to half-past three in the afternoon
I go in search of Oudard—The house at the corner of the rue de Rohan—Oudard is with Laffitte—Degousée—General Pajol and M. Dupin—The officers of the 53rd Regiment—Interior of Laffitte's salon—Panic—A deputation comes to offer La Fayette the command of Paris—He accepts—Étienne Arago and the tricoloured cockade—History of the Hôtel de Ville from eight in the morning to half-past three in the afternoon
Now would you like to know what was going on at M. Laffitte's, in the same drawing-room where, two days later, a King of France, or rather, a King of the French, was to be created, just at the moment that the Tuileries had been taken? I can tell you: and this is why. When I left the Tuileries, I had been seized with a burning desire to find out whether Oudard was still, on the evening of 29 July, of the same opinion as on the morning of the 28th, with respect to the Duc d'Orléans' devotion to His Majesty Charles X. So I went to No. 216 rue Saint-Honoré. At the place de l'Odéon I had been very nearly knocked down by aGradus ad Parnassum; and, as I approached No. 216, I was also nearly knocked down by a dead body. They were throwing the Swiss out of the windows at the corner of the rue de Rohan. This was happening at a hatter's, the front of whose house was riddled with bullets. A post of Swiss had been placed by it as an advance guard and they had forgotten to relieve them, but the guards had kept their post with true Swiss courage, and no higher praise than that could be given. The house had been carried by storm, a dozen men had been killed and the bodieswere being thrown out from the windows, as I have said, without even a warning cry being given to the passers beneath. I went up the stairs to the offices of the Palais-Royal. Now, my rifle, that had caused such consternation on the previous day, was received with acclamation. I found the office-boy busily occupied in putting things a little straight in our establishment. That portion of the palace having been invaded, they had fired from the windows, and this had not been done without causing some disorder among the papers. But there was no sign of Oudard! I inquired after him from the office-boy and learnt, in confidence, that I should, in all probability, find him at Laffitte's house. I have said already how I had made acquaintance with the famous banker through the service he had rendered me. I therefore made my way to his mansion, where I felt sure I should not altogether be looked upon as an intruder. It took me more than an hour to get from the Palais-Royal to the Hôtel Laffitte, so crowded were the streets and so many acquaintances did one meet on the way.
At the door I ran into Oudard.
"Ah! by Jove!" I said, laughing, "you are just the man I am looking for!"
"I! what do you want with me?"
"To know whether your views on the present situation are unchanged."
"I shall not express any opinion until to-morrow," he replied.
And, making a sign of farewell, he disappeared as fast as he could. Where was he off to? I did not know until three days later: he went to Neuilly to carry this short ultimatum to the Duc d'Orléans:—
"Choose between a crown and a passport!"
The ultimatum was drawn up by M. Laffitte.
I had flattered myself with vain hope in believing I should be able to enter Laffitte's house: courts, gardens, antechambers, drawing-rooms were all crammed; there were even curious spectators on the roofs of the houses opposite that looked down over the Hôtel courtyard. But it must be said that the men gathered together there were not all in a state ofenthusiasm and appreciative of the situation. Certain stories of what was passing inside filtered through to the crowd outside, at which they grumbled loudly as they listened. One story will give an idea of the cautious prudence of the deputies assembled at Laffitte's house.
When Degousée had, that morning, seen the Hôtel de Ville fall into the hands of the people, he left Baude installed there and rushed off to General Pajol to offer him the command of the National Guard. But General Pajol replied that he could not take any such decided steps without the authorisation of the deputies.
"Then where the devil are there any deputies?" asked Degousée.
"Look for them at M. de Choiseul's," General Pajol replied.
So Degousée went there. M. de Choiseul was at his wits' end: he had just learnt that he had been made a member of the Provisional Government the night before, and that, during the night, he had signed a seditious proclamation. M. Dupin, senior, was with the duke, doubtless having a consultation upon this unexpected bit of French legislation. The idea proposed by Degousée of reorganising a corps that could not fail to become a Conservative power delighted M. Dupin immensely. He took a pen and wrote these words:—
"The deputies assembled in Paris authorise General Pajol to take the command of theParisian Militia."
"The Parisian Militia!" Degousée repeated. "Why do you call them by that name?"
"Because the National Guard has been legally dissolved by the Ordinance of King Charles X.," was M. Dupin's reply.
"Come, come," Degousée went on to say, "don't let us quibble over terms. Sign this quickly and kindly tell me where I shall find yourdeputies assembled in Paris."
"At the house of M. Laffitte," M. Dupin replied.
And he signed the authorisation without making any further difficulties.
The deputies were, indeed, assembled with Laffitte. And Degousée, more fortunate than I, thanks, no doubt, tothe paper which he carried, had been able to reach the room where the deliberations were going on. The deputies looked at the afore-mentioned three lines and, seeing M. Dupin's signature, signed in their turn; but they had no sooner done so than they were seized with terror: Degousée, who never let the grass grow under his feet, and who, besides, was aching to be at the assault of the Louvre, had already reached the street door when a deputy caught him up.
"Monsieur," he said, "will you permit me to look at that paper once again?"
"Certainly," Degousée replied unsuspectingly.
The deputy stepped aside and tore off the signatures, then returned the paper, folded up, to Degousée, who took it, not discovering the missing signatures subtracted by the clever conjurer, until he reached General Pajol's door.
My readers remember La Fontaine's fable ofle Lièvre et les Grenouilles(The hare and the frog)? The worthy man foresaw everything, even that which was thought almost impossible, namely, that M. Dupin would find a greater coward than himself! That was the story going the round of the knots of people standing about outside.
But let us hasten to add that La Fayette had not yet arrived at the Hôtel Laffitte when the incident took place that we have just related. He arrived as a man of the populace, gun in hand and face blackened with powder, was running in to announce the taking of the Louvre. A sergeant of the 53rd Regiment of the line had made such good use of his feet and hands that he had got into the drawing-room, where he announced that that regiment was on the point of fraternising with the people. The officers only asked that some person of high position might be sent them in order that their going over to the Revolutionary cause might not look like an ordinary defection. They sent Colonel Heymès, in civilian dress, and M. Jean-Baptiste Laffitte, with several members of the National Guard, whom they had recruited as they came along the boulevard. The regiment was arriving just as I came: five officers entered the council halland I with them. M. Laffitte was near the garden window, which was open, although the outside blinds were closed; he was seated in a large arm-chair with his leg resting on a footstool. He had sprained his foot the morning before. Behind him was Béranger, leaning upon the back of his chair, and, on one side, stood General La Fayette, inquiring after his health; in the recess of a second window, Georges La Fayette was talking with M. Laroche, M. Laffitte's nephew. Thirty or forty deputies conversing in groups filled up the rest of the drawing-room. Suddenly, a fearful sound of firing was heard and the cry resounded—