In consequence of the change which had been made in the programme, men, placed on the steps of the Church of Saint-Roch, distributed, on the morning of the 14th, notices announcing that the funeral ceremony had been arranged to take place at Saint-Roch and not at Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois.
I was at the Vaudeville, where I believe we were rehearsingLa Famille improviséeby Henry Monnier—I have already spoken of, and shall often again refer to, this old friend of mine, an eminent artiste, witty comrade andgood fellow! as the English say—when Pachel the head hired-applauder ran in terrified, crying out that emblazoned equipages were forming in line at Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois; and people were saying in the crowd that the personages who were getting out from them had come to be present at a requiem service for the repose of the soul of the Duc de Berry. This news produced an absolutely contrary effect upon Arago and myself: it exasperated Arago, but put me very much at ease.
I have related how I was educated by a priest, and by an excellent one too; now that early education, the influence of those juvenile memories, gave—I will not say to all my actions—God forbid I should represent myself to my readers as a habitually religious-minded man!—but to all my beliefs and opinions—such a deep religious tinge that I cannot even now enter a church without taking holy water, or pass in front of a crucifix without making the sign of the cross. Therefore, in spite of the violence of my political opinions at that time, I thought that the poor assassinated Duc de Berry had a rightto a requiem mass, that the Royalists had a right to be present at it and the curé the right to celebrate it. But this was not Étienne's way of looking at it. Perhaps he was right. Consequently, he wrote a few lines to theNationaland to theTempsand ran to the spot. I followed him in a much more tranquil manner. I could see that something serious would come of it; that the Royalist journals would exclaim against the sacrilege, and that the accusation would fall upon the Republican party. Arago, with his convinced opinions, his southern fieriness of temperament, entered the church just as a young man was hanging a portrait of the Duc de Bordeaux on the catafalque. Here was where Arago began to be in the right and I to be in the wrong. Behind the young man there came a lady, who placed a crown of immortelles upon it; behind the woman came soldiers, who hung their crosses to the effigy of Henri VI. by the aid of pins. Now, Arago was wholly in the right and I totally wrong. For the ceremony here ceased to be a religious demonstration and became a political act of provocation. The people and citizens rushed into the church. The citizens became incensed, and the people grumbled. But let us keep exactly to the events which followed. The riot at the archbishop's palace was middle class, not lower class. The men who raised it were the same as those who had caused the Raucourt and Philippe riots under the Restoration; the subscriptors of Voltaire-Touquet, the buyers of snuff-boxes à la Charte. Arago perceived the moment was the right one and that the irritation and grumbling could be turned to account. There was no organisation in the nature of conspiracy at that time; but the Republican party was on the watch and ready to turn any contingencies to account. We shall see the truth of this illustrated in connection with the burial of Lamarque. Arago sprang out of the church, climbed up on a horizontal bar of the railings and, stretching out his hands in the direction of the graves of July, which lay in front of the portal of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, shouted—"Citizens! They dare to celebrate a requiem service in honour of one of the members of the family whom we have just driven from power, only fiftyyards from the victims of July! Shall we allow them to finish the service?"
Maddened cries went up. "No! no! no!" from every voice; and they rushed into the church. The assailants encountered General Jacqueminot in the doorway, who was then chief of the staff or second in command of the National Guard (I do not know further particulars, and the matter is not important enough for me to inquire into). He tried to stem the torrent, but it was too strong to be stopped by a single man. The general realised this, and tried to stay it by a word. Now, a word, if it is the right one, and courageous or sympathetic, is the safest wall that can be put across the path of that fifth element which we call "The People."
"My friends," cried the general, "listen to me and take in who I am—I was at Rambouillet: therefore, I belong to your party."
"You were at Rambouillet?" a voice questioned.
"Yes."
"Well, you would have done better to stay in Paris, and to leave the combatants of July where they were: their absence would not then have been taken advantage of to set up a king!"
The riposte was a deadly one, and General Jacqueminot looked upon himself as a dead man and made no further signs of life. The invasion of the church was rapid, irresistible and terrible; in a few minutes the catafalque was destroyed, the pall was torn to shreds and the altar knocked down; the golden-flowered hanging, sacred pictures, sacerdotal vestments were all trampled under foot! Scepticism revenged itself by impiety, sacrilege and blasphemy, for the fifteen years during which it had been made to hide its mocking face behind the mask of hypocrisy. They laughed, they howled, they danced round all the sacred things they had heaped up, overturned and torn in pieces. One of the rioters came out of the sacristy in the complete dress of a priest: he mounted on the top of a heap of débris and beat time to the infernal din. It looked like a figure of Satan, dressed up ironically in priestly robes, presiding over a revel.
I witnessed the whole scene from the entrance and went away, with bent head and a heavy heart and unquiet mind, sorry I had seen it. I could not hide from myself that the people had been incited to do what they had done. I was too much of a philosopher to expect the people to discriminate between the Church and the priesthood—religion from its ministers; but I was too religious at heart to stay there, and I attempted to get away from the place. I sayI attempted, for it was no easy thing to get out: the square of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois was crowded; and the crowd, forced back into the narrow rue de Prêtres, overflowed on to the quays. At one spot this crowd was excited and turbulent; and a struggle was going on from whence issued cries. A tall, pale young man, with long black hair and good-looking countenance, was standing on a post, watching the tumult with some expression of scorn. One of the bystanders, who was probably irritated by this disdain, began to shout: "A Jesuit!" Such a cry at such a time was like putting a match to a bundle of tow. The crowd rushed for the poor fellow, crying—
"Throw the Jesuits into the Seine! Drown him! Give the Jesuits to the nets of Saint-Cloud!"
Baude was the Préfet of Police. I can see him now with his fine locks flying in the wind, his dark eyes darting out lightning flashes, and his herculean strength. It was the second time I had seen him thus. He had just arrived with the Municipal Guard, which he had drawn up before the church door; the men were trying to shut the gates. He flew to the rescue of the unlucky doomed man, who was being passed from hand to hand, and was in his aërial flight approaching the river with fearful rapidity. The desire to hinder a murder redoubled Baude's strength. He reached the edge of the river at the same time as the victim who was threatened with being flung over the parapet. He clutched hold of him and drew him back. I saw no more: for I was being suffocated against the boards which, at that time, enclosed thejardin de l'Infanteand, dilapidated though they were, they offered a great deal more resistance than I liked,The necessity for labouring for my personal preservation compelled me to turn my eyes away from the direction of the quay and to struggle on my own account. My stalwart build and the combined efforts of many who recognised me enabled me to reach the quay and, from thence, thepont des Arts.They were still fighting by the parapet. Later, I learnt that Baude had succeeded in saving the poor devil at the expense of a good number of bruises and his coat torn to ribbons. But, whilst the Préfet of Police was playing the part of philanthropist, he was not fulfilling his duties as préfet, and the rioters profited by this lapse in his municipal functions. The people continued pillaging the church and the presbytery of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, and by the time that Baude had done his good action it was all over. Only the room of the Abbé Paravey, who had blessed the tombs of the July martyrs, had been respected. The mob always recognises, even in its moments of greatest anger and its worst sacrilege, the something that is greater than its wrath, before which it stops and bends the knee. On 24 February 1848 the mob served the Tuileries as they had served the Church of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois on 14 February 1831, but it stopped short at the apartment of the Duchesse d'Orléans, as it had done before the Abbé Paravey's room.
The Préfet of Police at the Palais-Royal—The function of fire—Valérius, the truss-maker—Demolition of the archbishop's palace—The Chinese album—François Arago—The spectators of the riot—The erasure of the fleurs-de-lis—I give in my resignation a second time—MM. Chambolle and Casimir Périer
The Préfet of Police at the Palais-Royal—The function of fire—Valérius, the truss-maker—Demolition of the archbishop's palace—The Chinese album—François Arago—The spectators of the riot—The erasure of the fleurs-de-lis—I give in my resignation a second time—MM. Chambolle and Casimir Périer
The supposed Jesuit saved, the Church of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois sacked, the room of the Abbé Paravey respected, the crowd passed away, Baude thought the anger of the lion was appeased and presented himself at the Palais-Royal without taking time to change his clothes. Just as these bore material traces of the struggle he had gone through, so his face kept the impression of the emotions he had experienced. To put it in common parlance—as the least academic of men sometimes allows himself to be captivated by the fascination of phrase-making—the préfet's clothes were torn and his face was very pale. But the king, on the other hand, was quite calm.
More fully informed, this time, of the events going on in the street, than he had been about those of the Chamber when they discharged La Fayette, he knew everything that had just happened. He saw, too, that it tended to his own advantage. The Carlists had lifted up their heads and, without the slightest interference on his part, they had been punished! There had been a riot, but it had not threatened the Palais-Royal, and by a little exercise of skill it could be made to do credit to the Republican party. What a chance! and just at the time when the leaders of that same party were in prison for another disturbance.
But the king clearly suspected that matters would not stophere; so, with his usual astuteness, and seeming courtesy, he kept Baude to dinner. Baude saw nothing in this invitation beyond an act of politeness, and a kind of reward for the dangers he had incurred. But there was more in it than that. The Préfet of Police being at the Palais-Royal meant that all the police reports would be sent there; now, Baude could not do otherwise than to communicate them to his illustrious host. So, in this way, without any trouble to himself, the king would become acquainted with everything, both what Baude's police knew and what his own police also knew. King Louis-Philippe was a subtle man, but his very cleverness detracted from his strength. We do not think it is possible to be both fox and lion at the same time. The reports were disquieting: one of them announced the pillage of the archbishop's palace for the morrow; another, an attempted attack upon the Palais-Royal.
"Sire," asked the Préfet of the Police, "what must we do?"
"Powder and shot," replied the king.
Baude understood. By three o'clock in the morning all the troops of the garrison were disposed round the Palais-Royal, but the avenues to the archbishop's palace were left perfectly free. This is what happened while the Préfet of Police was dining with His Majesty. General Jacqueminot had summoned the National Guard and, instead of dispersing the rioters, they clapped their hands at the riot. Cadet-Gassicourt, who was mayor of the fourth arrondissement, arrived next. Some people pointed out to him the three fleurs-de-lis which adorned the highest points of the cross that surmounted the church. A man out of the crowd heard the remark, and quickly the cry went up of "Down with the fleurs-de-lis; down with the cross!" They attached themselves to the cross with the fleurs-de-lis of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, just as seventeen years previously they had attached themselves to the statue of Napoléon on the Place Vendôme. The cross fell at the third pull. There was not much else left to do after that, either inside the church or on the top of it, and, unless they pulled it down altogether, it was only wasting time to stop there. At that instant a rumour circulated, either rightly or falsely, that a surgicalinstrument maker in the rue de Coq, named Valérius, had been one of the arrangers of the fête. They rushed to his shop, scattered his bandages and broke his shop-front. The National Guard came, and can you guess what it did? It made a guard-house of the wrecked shop. This affair of the cross and the fleurs-de-lis gave a political character to the riot, and had suggested, or was about to suggest, on the following day, a party of the popular insurgents towards the Palais-Royal. As a matter of fact, the fleurs-de-lis had remained upon the arms of the king up to this time. Soon after the election of 9 August, Casimir Périer had advised him to abandon them; but the king remembered that, on the male side, he was the grandson of Henry IV., and of Louis XIV. on the female line, and he had obstinately refused. Under the pretext, therefore, of demanding the abolition of the fleurs-de-lis, a gathering of Republicans was to march next day upon the Palais-Royal. When there, if they found themselves strong enough, they would, at the same stroke, demand the abolition of royalty. I knew nothing about this plot, and, if I had, I should have kept clear of everything that meant a direct attack against King Louis-Philippe. I had work to do the next day and kept my door fast shut against everybody, my own servant included, but the latter violated his orders and entered. It was evident that something extraordinary had happened for Joseph to take such a liberty with me. They had been firing off rifles half the night, they had disarmed two or three posts, they had sacked the archbishop's palace. The proposition of marching on the palace of M. de Quélen was received with enthusiasm. He was one of those worldly prelates who pass for being rather shepherds, than pastors. It was affirmed that on 28 July 1830 a woman's cap had been found at his house and they wanted to know if, by chance, there might not be a pair. The devil tempted me: I dressed hastily and I ran in the direction of the city. The bridges were crowded to breaking point, and there was a row of curious gazers on the parapets two deep. Only on the Pont Neuf could I manage to see daylight between twospectators. The river drifted with furniture, books, chasubles, cassocks and priests' robes. The latter objects were horrible as they looked like drowning people. All these things came from the archbishop's palace. When the crowd reached the palace, the door seemed too narrow, relatively speaking, for the number and impetuosity of the visitors: the crowd, therefore, seized hold of the iron grill, shook it and tore it down; then they spread over all the rooms and threw the furniture out of the windows. Several book-lovers who tried to save rare books and precious editions were nearly thrown into the Seine. One single album alone escaped the general destruction. The man who laid hands on it chanced to open it: it was a Chinese album painted on leaves of rice. The Chinese are very fanciful in their compositions, and this particular one so far transcended the limits of French fancy, that the crowd had not the courage to insist on the precious album being thrown into the water. I have never seen anything approaching this album except in the private museum at Naples; I ought, also, to say that the album of the Archbishop of Paris far excelled that of His Majesty the King of the Two Sicilies. The most indulgent people thought that this curious document had been given to the archbishop by some repentant Magdalene, in expiation of the sins she had committed, and to whom the merciful prelate had given absolution. It goes without saying that I was among the tolerant, and that, then as now, I did my utmost to get this view accepted.
Meantime, after seizing the furniture, library hangings, carpets, mirrors, missals, chasubles and cassocks, the crowd, not satisfied, seized upon the building itself. In an instant a hundred men were scattered over the roofs and had begun to tear off the tiles and slates of the archiépiscopal palace. It might have been supposed the rioters were all slaters. Has my reader happened, at any time, to shut up a mouse or rat or bird in a box pierced with holes, put it in the midst of an anthill and waited, given patience, for two or three hours? At the end of that time the ants have finished their work, and he can extract a beautiful skeleton from which all the flesh hascompletely disappeared. Thus, and in the same manner, under the work of the human ant-heap, at the end of an hour the coverings of the archbishop's palace had as completely disappeared. Next, it was the turn for the bones to go—where the ants stop discouraged, man destroys; by two o'clock in the afternoon the bones had disappeared like the flesh. Of the archbishop's palace not one stone remained on another! By good fortune the archbishop was at his country-house at Conflans; if not he would probably have been destroyed with his town-house.
All this time the drums had called the rappel, but not with that ferocious plying of drumsticks of which they gave us a sample in the month of December, as though to say, "Run, everyone, the town is on fire!" but with feebleness of execution as much as to say, "If you have nothing better to say, come, and you will not have a warm welcome!" So, as the National Guard began to understand the language of the drums, it did not put itself about much. However, a detachment of the 12th Legion, in command of François Arago,—the famous savant, the noble patriot who is now dying, and whom the Academy will probably not dare to praise, except as a savant,—came from the Panthéon towards the city. As ill-luck would have it, his adjutant, who marched on the flank, sabre in hand, gesticulating with it in a manner justified by the circumstances, stuck it into a poor fellow, who was merely peacefully standing watching them go by. The poor devil fell, wounded, and was picked up nearly dead. We know how such a thing as that operates: the dead or wounded is no longer his own private property; he belongs to the crowd, which makes a standard of him, as it were. The crowd took possession of the man, bleeding as he was, and began to shout, "To arms! Vengeance on the assassin! Vengeance!" The assassin, or, rather, the unintentional murderer, had disappeared. They carried the victim into the enclosure outside Notre-Dame, where everybody discussed loudly how to take revenge for him, and pitied him, but none thought of getting him help. It was François Arago, who made an appeal to humanity out of themidst of the threatening cries, and pointed to the Hôtel-Dieu, open to receive him, and, if possible, to cure the dying man. They placed him on a stretcher, and François Arago accompanied the unfortunate man to the bedside, where they had scarcely laid him before he died.
The report of that death spread with the fearful rapidity with which bad news always travels. When Arago re-appeared the crowd turned in earnest to wrath; it was in one of those moods when it sharpens its teeth and nails, and aches to tear to pieces and to devour.... What? In such a crisis it matters but little what, so long as it can tear and devour someone or something! It was frenzied to the extent of hurling itself upon Arago himself, mistaking the saviour for the murderer. In the twinkling of an eye our great astronomer was dragged towards the Seine, where he was going to be flung with the furniture, books and archiépiscopal vestments; when, happily, some of the spectators recognised him, called out his name, setting forth his reputation and his popularity in order to save him from death. When recognised, he was safe; but, robbed of a man, the excited crowd had to have something else, and, not being able to drown Arago, they demolished the archbishop's palace. With what rapidity they destroyed that building we have already spoken. And the remarkable thing was that many honourable witnesses watched the proceedings. M. Thiers was present, making his first practical study of the downfall of palaces and of monarchies. M. de Schonen was there, in colonel's uniform, but reduced to powerlessness because he had but few men at command. M. Talabot was there with his battalion; but he averred to M. Arago, who urged him to act, that he had been ordered toappear and then to return.The passive presence of all these notable persons at the riot of the archbishop's palace put a seal of sanction upon the proceedings, which I had never seen before, or have ever again seen at any other riot. This was no riot of the people, filled with enthusiasm, risking their lives in the midst of flashings of musketry fire and thunder of artillery; it was a riot in yellow kid-gloves, and overcoats and coats, it was a scoffingand impious, destructive and insolent crowd, without the excuse of previous insult or destruction offered it; in fact, it was a bourgeois riot, that most pitiless and contemptible of all riots.
I returned home heart-broken: I am wrong, I mean upset. I learnt that night that they had wished to demolish Notre-Dame, and only a very little more and the chef-d'oœuvre of four centuries, begun by Charlemagne and finished by Philippe-Auguste, would have disappeared in a few hours as the archbishop's palace had done. As I returned home, I had passed by the Palais-Royal. The king who had refused to make to Casimir Périer the sacrifice of the fleurs-de-lis, made that sacrifice to the rioters: they scratched it off the coats-of-arms on his carriages and mutilated the iron balconies of his palace.
The next day a decree appeared in theMoniteur, altering the three fleurs-de-lis of Charles V. this time to two tables of the law. If genealogy be established by coats-of-arms we should have to believe that the King of France was descended from Moses rather than from St. Louis! Only, these new tables of the law, the counterfeit of those of Sinai, had not even the excuse of being accepted out of the midst of thunders and lightnings.
It was upon this particular day, on Lamy's desk, who was Madame Adélaide's secretary, when I saw the grooms engaged in erasing the fleurs-de-lis from the king's carriages, thinking that it was not in this fashion that they should have been taken away from the arms of the house of France, that I sent in my resignation a second time, the only one which reached the king and which was accepted. It was couched in the following terms:—
"15February1831"SIRE,—Three weeks ago I had the honour to ask for an audience of your Majesty; my object was to offer my resignation to your Majesty by word of mouth; for I wished to explain, personally, that I was neither ungrateful, nor capricious. Sire, a long time ago I wrote and made public my opinion that, in my case, the man of letters was but the prelude to the politician. I have arrived at the age when I can take a part in a reformedChamber. I am pretty sure of being nominated a député when I am thirty years of age, and I am now twenty-eight, Sire. Unhappily, the People, who look at things from a mean and distant point of view, do not distinguish between the intentions of the king, and the acts of the ministers. Now the acts of the ministers are both arbitrary and destructive of liberty. Amongst the persons who live upon your Majesty, and tell him constantly that they admire and love him, there is not one probably, who loves your Majesty more than I do; only they talk about it and do not think it, and I do not talk about it but think it."But, Sire, devotion to principles comes before devotion to men. Devotion to principles makes men like La Fayette; devotion to men, like Rovigo.[1]I therefore pray your Majesty to accept my resignation."I have the honour to remain your Majesty's respectful servant,"ALEX. DUMAS"
"15February1831
"SIRE,—Three weeks ago I had the honour to ask for an audience of your Majesty; my object was to offer my resignation to your Majesty by word of mouth; for I wished to explain, personally, that I was neither ungrateful, nor capricious. Sire, a long time ago I wrote and made public my opinion that, in my case, the man of letters was but the prelude to the politician. I have arrived at the age when I can take a part in a reformedChamber. I am pretty sure of being nominated a député when I am thirty years of age, and I am now twenty-eight, Sire. Unhappily, the People, who look at things from a mean and distant point of view, do not distinguish between the intentions of the king, and the acts of the ministers. Now the acts of the ministers are both arbitrary and destructive of liberty. Amongst the persons who live upon your Majesty, and tell him constantly that they admire and love him, there is not one probably, who loves your Majesty more than I do; only they talk about it and do not think it, and I do not talk about it but think it.
"But, Sire, devotion to principles comes before devotion to men. Devotion to principles makes men like La Fayette; devotion to men, like Rovigo.[1]I therefore pray your Majesty to accept my resignation.
"I have the honour to remain your Majesty's respectful servant,"ALEX. DUMAS"
It was an odd thing! In the eyes of the Republican party, to which I belonged, I was regarded as a thorough Republican, because I took my share in all the risings, and wanted to see the flag of '92 float at the head of our armies; but, at the same time, I could not understand how, when they had taken a Bourbon as their king, whether he was of the Elder or Younger branch of the house, he could be at the same time a Valois, as they had tried to make the good people of Paris believe,—I could not, I say, understand, how the fleurs-de-lis could cease to be his coat-of-arms.
It was because I was both a poet and a Republican, and already comprehended and maintained, contrary to certain narrow-minded people of our party, that France, even though democratic, did not date from '89 only; that we nineteenth century men had received a vast inheritance of glory and must preserve it; that the fleurs-de-lis meant the lance heads of Clovis, and the javelins of Charlemagne; that they had floatedsuccessively at Tolbiac, at Tours, at Bouvines, at Taillebourg, at Rosbecque, at Patay, at Fornovo, Ravenna, Marignan, Renty, Arques, Rocroy, Steinkerque, Almanza, Fontenoy, upon the seas of India and the lakes of America; that, after the success of fifty victories, we suffered the glory of a score of defeats which would have been enough to annihilate another nation; that the Romans invaded us, and we drove them out, the Franks too, who were also expelled; the English invaded us, and we drove them out.
The opinion I am now putting forth with respect to the erasing of the fleurs-de-lis, which I upheld very conspicuously at that time by my resignation, was also the opinion of Casimir Périer. The next day after the fleurs-de-lis had disappeared from the king's carriages, from the balconies of the Palais-Royal and even from Bayard's shield, whilst the effigy of Henry IV. was preserved on the Cross of the Legion of Honours; M. Chambolle, who has since started the Orleanist paper,l'Ordre, called at M. Casimir Périer's house.
"Why," the latter asked him, "in the name of goodness, does the king give up his armorial bearings? Ah! He would not do it after the Revolution, when I advised him to sacrifice them; no, he would not hear of their being effaced then, and stuck to them more tenaciously than did his elders. Now, the riot has but to pass under his windows and behold his escutcheon lies in the gutter!"
Those who knew what an irascible character Casimir Périer was, will not be surprised at the flowers of rhetoric with which those words are adorned.
But now that there is no longer an archbishop's palace, nor any fleurs-de-lis, and the statue of the Duc de Berry about to be knocked down at Lille, the seminary of Perpignan pillaged and the busts of Louis XVIII. and of Charles X. of Nîmes destroyed, let us return toAntony, which was to cause a great disturbance in literature, besides which the riots we have just been discussing were but as the holiday games of school children.
[1]We are compelled to admit that, in our opinion, the parallel between La Fayette and the Duc de Rovigo is to the disadvantage of the latter; but how far he is above them in comparing him with other men of the empire! La Fayette's love for liberty is sublime; the devotion of the Duc de Rovigo for Napoléon is worthy of respect, for all devotion is a fine and rare thing, as times go.
[1]We are compelled to admit that, in our opinion, the parallel between La Fayette and the Duc de Rovigo is to the disadvantage of the latter; but how far he is above them in comparing him with other men of the empire! La Fayette's love for liberty is sublime; the devotion of the Duc de Rovigo for Napoléon is worthy of respect, for all devotion is a fine and rare thing, as times go.
My dramatic faith wavers—Bocage and Dorval reconcile me with myself—A political trial wherein I deserved to figure—Downfall of the Laffitte Ministry—Austria and the Duc de Modena—Maréchal Maison is Ambassador at Vienna—The story of one of his dispatches—Casimir Périer Prime Minister—His reception at the Palais-Royal—They make him theamende honorable
My dramatic faith wavers—Bocage and Dorval reconcile me with myself—A political trial wherein I deserved to figure—Downfall of the Laffitte Ministry—Austria and the Duc de Modena—Maréchal Maison is Ambassador at Vienna—The story of one of his dispatches—Casimir Périer Prime Minister—His reception at the Palais-Royal—They make him theamende honorable
We saw what small successAntonyobtained at the reading before M. Crosnier. The consequence was that just as they had not scrupled to pass my play over for the drama ofDon Carlos ou l'Inquisition, at the Théâtre-Français, they did not scruple, at the Porte-Saint-Martin, to put on all or any sort of piece that came to their hands before they looked at mine. PoorAntony!It had already been in existence for close upon two years; but this delay, it must be admitted, instead of injuring it in any way, was, on the contrary, to turn to very profitable account. During those two years, events had progressed and had brought about in France one of those feverish situations wherein the explosions of eccentric individuals cause immense noise. There was something sickly and degenerate in the times, which answered to the monomania of my hero. Meanwhile, as I have said, I had no settled opinion about my drama; my youthful faith in myself had only held out forHenri III.andChristine; but the horrible concert of hootings which had deafened me at the representation of the latter piece had shattered that faith to its very foundations. Then the Revolution had come, which had thrown me into quite another order of ideas, and had made me believe I was destined to become what in politics is called a man of action, abelief which had succumbed yet more rapidly than my literary belief.
Next had taken place the representation of myNapoléon Bonaparte, a work whose worthlessness I recognised with dread in spite of the fanatical enthusiasm it had excited at its reading. Then cameAntony, which inspired no fanaticism nor enthusiasm, neither at its reading nor at its rehearsal; which, in my inmost conscience, I believed was destined to close my short series of successes with failure. Were, perchance, M. Fossier, M. Oudard, M. Picard and M. Deviolaine right? Would it have been better for meto go to my office, as the author ofla Petite VilleandDeux Philiberthad advised? It was rather late in the day to make such reflections as these, just after I had sent in my resignation definitely. I did not make them any the less for that, nor did they cheer me any the more on that account. My comfort was that Crosnier did not seem to set any higher value uponMarion Delormethan uponAntony, and I was a great admirer ofMarion Delorme.I might be deceived in my own piece, but assuredly I was not mistaken about that of Hugo; while, on the other hand, Crosnier might be wrong about Hugo's piece, and therefore equally mistaken about mine. Meanwhile, the rehearsals continued their course.
That which I had foreseen happened: in proportion as the rehearsals advanced, the two principal parts taken by Madame Dorval and by Bocage assumed entirely different aspects than they did when represented by Mademoiselle Mars and Firmin. The absence of scholastic traditions, the manner of acting drama, a certain sympathy of the actors with their parts, a sympathy which did not exist at the Théâtre Français, all by degrees helped to reinstate poorAntonyin my own opinion. It is but fair to say that, when the two great artistes, upon whom the success of the play depended, felt the day of representation drawing nearer, they developed, as if in emulation with one another, qualities they were themselves unconscious they possessed. Dorval brought out a dignity of feeling in the expression of the emotions, of which Ishould have thought her quite incapable; and Bocage, on whom I had only looked at first as capable of a kind of misanthropic barbarity, had moments of poetic sadness and of dreamy melancholy that I had only seen in Talma in his rôles of the English rendering of Hamlet, and in Soumet's Orestes. The representation was fixed for the first fortnight in April; but, at the same time, a drama was being played at thePalais de justice, which, even to my eyes, was far more interesting than my own.
My friends Guinard, Cavaignac and Trélat, with sixteen other fellow-prisoners, were brought up before the Court of Assizes. It will be recollected that it was on account of the Artillery conspiracy, wherein I had taken an active part; therefore, one thing alone surprised me, why they should be in prison and I free; why they should have to submit to the cross-questionings of the law court whilst I was rehearsing a piece at the Porte-Saint-Martin. Between the 6th and the 11th of April the audiences had been devoted to the interrogation of the prisoners and to the hearing of witnesses. On the 12th, the Solicitor-General took up the case. I need hardly say that from the 12th to the 15th, the day when sentence was passed, I never left the sittings. It was a difficult task for the Solicitor-General to accuse men like those seated on the prisoners' bench, who were the chief combatants of July, and pronounced the "heroes of the Three Days," those whom the Lieutenant-General had received, flattered and pampered ten months back; the men whom Dupont (de l'Eure) referred to as his friends, whom La Fayette had called his children and whom, when he was no longer in the Ministry, Laffitte had called his accomplices. As a matter of fact, the Laffitte Ministry had fallen on 9 March. The cause of that fall could not have been more creditable to the former friend of King Louis-Philippe; he had found that five months of political friction with the new monarch had been enough to turn him into one of his most irreconcilable enemies. It was the time when three nations rose up and demanded their independent national rights: Belgium, Poland and Italy. People's mindswere nearly settled about Belgium's fate; but not so with regard to Poland and Italy; and all generous hearts felt sympathy with those two Sisters in Liberty who were groaning, the one beneath the sword blade of the Czar, the other under Austria's chastisement. Attention was riveted in particular upon Modena. The Duke of Modena had fled from his duchy when he heard the news of the insurrection of Bologna, on the night of 4 February. The Cabinet at the Palais-Royal received a communication upon the subject from the Cabinet of Vienna, informing it that the Austrian government was preparing to intervene to replace Francis IV. upon his ducal throne. It was curious news and an exorbitant claim to make. The French Government had proclaimed the principle of non-intervention; now, upon what grounds could Austria interfere in the Duchy of Modena? Austria had, indeed, a right of reversion over that duchy; but the right was entirely conditional, and, until the day when all the male heirs of the reigning house should be extinct, Modena could be a perfectly independent duchy. Such demands were bound to revolt so upright and fair a mind as M. Laffitte's, and he vowed in full council that, if Austria persisted in that insolent claim, France would go to war with her.
M. Sébastiani, Minister for Foreign Affairs, was asked by the President of the Council to reply to this effect, which he engaged to do. Maréchal Maison was then at the embassy of Vienna. He was one of those stiff and starched diplomatists who preserve the habit, from their military career, of addressing kings and emperors with their hand upon their sword hilts. I knew him very well, and in spite of our difference of age, with some degree of intimacy; a charming woman with a pacific name who was a mere friend to me, but who was a good deal more than a friend to him, served as the bond between the young poet and the old soldier. The Marshal was commissioned to present M. Laffitte'sUltimatumto Austria. It was succinct: "Non-intervention or War!" The system of peace at any price adopted by Louis-Philippe was not yet known at that period. Austria replied as though she knew thesecret thoughts of the King of France. Her reply was both determined and insolent. This is it—
"Until now, Austria has allowed France to advance the principle of non-intervention; but it is time France knew that we do not intend to recognise it where Italy is concerned. We shall carry our arms wherever insurrection spreads. If that intervention leads to war—then war there must be! We prefer to incur the chances of war than to be exposed to perish in the midst of outbreaks of rebellion."
"Until now, Austria has allowed France to advance the principle of non-intervention; but it is time France knew that we do not intend to recognise it where Italy is concerned. We shall carry our arms wherever insurrection spreads. If that intervention leads to war—then war there must be! We prefer to incur the chances of war than to be exposed to perish in the midst of outbreaks of rebellion."
With the instruction the Marshal received, the note above quoted did not permit of any agreement being reached; consequently, at the same time that he sent M. de Metternich's reply to King Louis-Philippe, he wrote to General Guilleminot, our ambassador at Constantinople, that France was forced into war and that he must make an appeal to the ancient alliance between Turkey and France. Marshal Maison added in a postscript to M. de Metternich's note—
"Not a moment must be lost in which to avert the danger with which France is threatened; we must, consequently, take the initiative and pour a hundred thousand men into Piedmont."
"Not a moment must be lost in which to avert the danger with which France is threatened; we must, consequently, take the initiative and pour a hundred thousand men into Piedmont."
This dispatch was addressed to M. Sébastiani, Minister for Foreign Affairs, with whom, in his capacity as ambassador, Marshal Maison corresponded direct; it reached the Hôtel des Capucines on 4 March. M. Sébastiani, a king's man, communicated it to the king, but, important though it was, never said one word about it to M. Laffitte. That is the fashion in which the king, following the first principle of constitutional government, reigned, but did not rule. How did theNationalobtain that dispatch? We should be very puzzled to say; but, on the 8th, it was reproduced word for word in the second column of that journal. M. Laffitte read it by chance, as La Fayette had read his dismissal from the commandantship of the National Guard by accident. M. Laffitte got into a carriage, paper in hand and drove to M. Sébastiani. He could not deny it: the Marshal alleged such poor reasons, thatM. Laffitte saw he had been completely tricked. He went on to the Palais-Royal, where he hoped to gain explanations which the Minister for Foreign Affairs refused to give him; but the king knew nothing at all; the king was busy looking after the building at Neuilly and did not trouble his head about affairs of State, he took no initiative and approved of his ministry. M. Laffitte must settle the matter with his colleagues. There was so much apparent sincerity and naïve simplicity in the tone, attitude and appearance of the king that Laffitte thought he could not be an accomplice in the plot. Next day, therefore, he took the king's advice and had an explanation with his colleagues. That explanation led, there and then, to the resignation of the leader of the Cabinet, who returned to his home with his spirit less broken, perhaps, by the prospect of his ruined house and lost popularity than by his betrayed friendship. M. Laffitte was a noble-hearted man who had given himself wholly to the king, and behold, in the very face of the insult that had been put upon France, the king, in his new attitude of preserver of peace, threw him over just as he had thrown over La Fayette and Dupont (de l'Eure). Laffitte was flung remorselessly and without pity into the gulf wherein Louis-Philippe flung his popular favourites when he had done with them. The new ministry was made up all ready, in advance; the majority of its members were taken from the old one. The only new ministers were Casimir Périer, Baron Louis and M. de Rigny. The various offices of the members were as follows: Casimir Périer, Prime Minister; Sébastiani, Minister for Foreign Affairs; Baron Louis, Minister of Finance; Barthe, Minister of Justice; Montalivet, Minister of Education and Religious Instruction; Comte d'Argout, Minister of Commerce and Public Works; de Rigny, Minister for the Admiralty. The new ministry nearly lost its prime minister the very next day after he had been appointed, viz., on 13 March 1831. It was only with regret that Madame Adélaïde and the Duc d'Orléans saw Casimir Périer come into power. Was it from regret at the ingratitude shown to M. Laffitte? or wasit fear on account of M. Casimir Périer's well-known character? Whatever may have been the case, on 14 March, when the new president of the Council appeared at the Palais-Royal to pay his respects at court that night, he found a singular expression upon all faces: the courtiers laughed, the aides-decamp whispered together, the servants asked whom they must announce. M. le duc d'Orléans turned his back upon him, Madame Adélaïde was as cold as ice, the queen was grave. The king alone waited for him, smiling, at the bottom of the salon. The minister had to pass through a double hedge of people who wished to repel him, malevolent to him, in order to reach the king. The rival and successor to Laffitte was angry, proud and impatient; he resolved to take his revenge at once. He knew the man who was indispensable to the situation; Thiers was not yet sufficiently popular, M. Guizot was already too little so. Casimir Périer went straight to the king..
"Sire," he said to him, "I have the honour to ask you for a private interview."
The king, amazed, walked before him and led him into his cabinet. The door was scarcely closed when, without circumlocution or ambiguity, the new prime minister burst out with—
"Sire, I have the honour to offer my resignation to Your Majesty."
"Eh! good Lord, Monsieur Périer," exclaimed the king, "and on what grounds?"
"Sire," replied the exasperated minister, "that I have enemies at the clubs, in the streets, in the Chamber matters nothing; but enemies at the very court to which I am bold enough unreservedly to offer my whole fortune is too much to endure! and I do not feel equal, I confess to Your Majesty, to face these many forms of hatred."
The king felt the thrust, and realised that it must be warded off, under the circumstances, for it might be fatal to himself. Then, in his most flattering tones and with that seductive charm of manner in which he excelled, the kingset himself to smooth down this minister's wounded pride. But with the inflexible haughtiness of his character, Casimir Périer persisted.
"Sire," he said, "I have the honour to offer my resignation to Your Majesty."
The king saw he must make adequate amends.
"Wait ten minutes here, my dear Monsieur Périer," he said; "and in ten minutes you shall be free."
The minister bowed in silence, and let the king leave him.
In that ten minutes the king explained to the queen, to his sister and his son, the urgent necessity there was for him to keep M. Casimir Périer, and told them the resolution the latter had just taken to hand in his resignation. This was a fresh order altogether, and in a few seconds it was made known to all whom it concerned. The king opened the door of his cabinet, where the minister was still biting his nails and stamping his feet.
"Come!" he said.
Casimir Périer bowed lightly and followed the king. But thanks to the new command, everything was changed. The queen was gracious; Madame Adélaïde was affable; M. le duc d'Orléans had turned round, the aides-de-camp stood in a group ready to obey at the least sign from the king, and also from the minister; the courtiers smiled obsequiously. Finally, the lackeys, when M. Périer reached the door, flew into the ante-chambers and rushed down the stairs crying, "M. le president du Conseil's carriage!" A more rapid and startling reparation could not possibly have been obtained. Thus Casimir Périer remained a minister, and the new president of the council then started that arduous career which was to end in the grave in a year's time; he died only a few weeks before his antagonist Lamarque.
This was how matters stood when we took a fresh course, in the full tide of the trial of the artillery, to speak of M. Laffitte.
But, once for all, we are not writing history, only jotting down our recollections, and often we find that at the very moment when we have galloped off to follow up some bywayof our memory we have left behind us events of the first importance. We are then obliged to retrace our steps, to make our apologies to those events, as the king had to do to M. Casimir Périer; to take them, as it were, by the hand, and to lead them back to our readers, who perhaps do not always accord them quite such a gracious reception as that which the Court of the Palais-Royal gave to the President of the Council on the evening of 14 March 1831.
Trial of the artillerymen—Procureur-général Miller—Pescheux d'Herbinville—Godefroy Cavaignac—Acquittal of the accused—The ovation they received—Commissioner Gourdin—The cross of July—The red and black ribbon—Final rehearsals ofAntony
Trial of the artillerymen—Procureur-général Miller—Pescheux d'Herbinville—Godefroy Cavaignac—Acquittal of the accused—The ovation they received—Commissioner Gourdin—The cross of July—The red and black ribbon—Final rehearsals ofAntony
We have mentioned what a difficult matter it was for a solicitor-general to prosecute the men who were still black from the powder of July, such men as Trélat, Cavaignac, Guinard, Sambuc, Danton, Chaparre and their fellow-prisoners. All these men, moreover (except Commissioner Gourdin, against whose morality, by the way, there was absolutely nothing to be said), lived by their private fortune or their own talents, and were, for the most part, more of them well to do than poorly off. They could therefore only be proceeded against on account of an opinion regarded as dangerous from the point of view of the Government, though they were undoubtedly disinterested. Miller, the solicitor-general, had the wit to grasp the situation, and at the outset of his charge against the prisoners he turned to the accused and said—
"We lament as much as any other person to see these honoured citizens at the bar, whose private life seems to command much esteem; young men, rich in noble thoughts and generous inspirations. It is not for us, gentlemen, to seek to call in question their title to public consideration, or to the goodwill of their fellow-citizens, and to a recognition of the services they have rendered their country."
The audience, visibly won over by this preamble, made a murmur of approbation which it would certainly have repressed if it had had patience to wait the sequel. The attorney-general went on—
"But do the services that they have been able to render the State give them the right to shake it to its very foundations, if it is not administered according to doctrines which suited imaginations that, as likely, as not, are ill-regulated? Is the impetuous ardour of youth enough excuse for legalising actions which alarm all good citizens, and harm all interests? Must peaceable men become the victims of the culpable machinations of those who talk about liberty, and yet attack the liberty of others, and boast that they are working for the good of France while they violently break all social bonds?"
Judge in what a contemptuous attitude the prisoners received these tedious and banal observations. Far from dreaming of defending themselves, they felt that as soon as the moment should come for charging it would be they who should take the offensive. Pescheux d'Herbinville, the leader, burst forth in fury and crushed both judges and attorney-general.
"Monsieur Pescheux d'Herbinville," President Hardouin said to him, "you are accused of having had arms in your possession, and of distributing them. Do you admit the fact?"
Pescheux d'Herbinville rose. He was a fine-looking young man of twenty-two or three, fair, carefully dressed, and of refined manners; the cartridges that had been seized at his house were wrapped in silk-paper, and ornamented with rose-coloured favours.
"I not only," he said, "admit the fact, monsieur le président, but I am proud of it.... Yes, I had arms, and plenty of them too! And I am going to tell you how I got them. In July I took three posts in succession at the head of a handful of men in the midst of the firing; the arms that I had were those of the soldiers I had disarmed. Now, I fought for the people, and these soldiers were firing on the people. Am I guilty for taking away the arms which in the hands in which they were found were dealing death to citizens?"
A round of applause greeted these words.
"As to distributing them," continued the prisoner, "it is quite true I did it; and not only did I distribute them, butbelieving that, in our unsettled times, it was as well to acquaint the friends of France with their enemies, at my own expense, although I am not a rich man, I provided some of the men who had followed me with the uniform of the National Guard. It was to those same men I distributed the arms, to which, indeed, they had a right, since they helped me to take them. You have asked me what I have to say in my defence, and I have told you."
He sat down amidst loud applause, which only ceased after repeated orders from the president.
Next came Cavaignac's turn.
"You accuse me of being a Republican," he said; "I uphold that accusation both as a title of honour and a paternal heritage. My father was one of those who proclaimed the Republic from the heart of the National Convention, before the whole of Europe, then victorious; he defended it before the armies, and that was why he died in exile, after twelve years of banishment; and whilst the Restoration itself was obliged to let France have the fruits of that revolution which he had served, whilst it overwhelmed with favours those men whom the Republic had created, my father and his colleagues alone suffered for the great cause which many others betrayed! It was the last homage their impotent old age could offer to the country they had vigorously defended in their youth!... That cause, gentlemen, colours all my feelings as his son; and the principles which it embraced are my heritage. Study has naturally strengthened the bent given to my political opinions, and now that the opportunity is given me to utter a word which multitudes proscribe, I pronounce it without affection, and without fear, at heart and from conviction I am a Republican!"
It was the first time such a declaration of principles had been made boldly and publicly before both the court of law and society; it was accordingly received at first in dumb stupor, which was immediately followed by a thunder of applause. The president realised that he could not struggle against such enthusiasm; he let the applause calm down, and Cavaignaccontinue his speech. Godefroy Cavaignac was an orator, and more eloquent than his brother, although he, like General Lamarque and General Foy, gave utterance to some eminently French sentiments which enter more deeply into people's hearts than the most beautiful speeches. Cavaignac continued with increasing triumph. Finally, he summed up his opinions and hopes, and those of the party, which, then almost unnoticed, was to triumph seventeen years later—
"The Revolution! Gentlemen, you attack the Revolution! What folly! The Revolution includes the whole nation, except those who exploit it; it is our country, fulfilling the sacred mission of freeing the people entrusted to it by Providence; it is the whole of France, doing its duty to the world! As for ourselves, we believe in our hearts that we have done our duty to France, and every time she has need of us, no matter what she, our revered mother, asks of us, we, her faithful sons, will obey her!"
It is impossible to form any idea of the effect this speech produced; pronounced as it was in firm tones, with a frank and open face, eyes flashing with enthusiasm and heartfelt conviction. From that moment the cause was won: to have found these men guilty would have caused a riot, perhaps even a revolution. The questions put to the jury were forty-six in number. At a quarter to twelve, noon, the jurymen went into their consulting room: they came out at half-past three, and pronounced the accused men not guilty on any one of the forty-six indictments. There was one unanimous shout of joy, almost of enthusiasm, clapping of hands and waving of hats; everyone rushed out, striding over the benches, overturning things in their way; they wanted to shake hands with any one of the nineteen prisoners, whether they knew him or not. They felt that life, honour and future principles had been upheld by those prisoners arraigned at the bar. In the midst of this hubbub the president announced that they were set at liberty. There remained, therefore, nothing further for the accused to do but to escape the triumphant reception awaiting them. Victories, in these cases, are often worse than defeats: Irecollect the triumph of Louis Blanc on 15 May. Guinard, Cavaignac and the students from the schools succeeded in escaping the ovation: instead of leaving by the door of the Conciergerie, which led to the Quai des Lunettes, they left by the kitchen door and passed out unrecognised. Trélat, Pescheux d'Herbinville and three friends (Achille Roche, who died young and very promising, Avril and Lhéritier) had got into a carriage, and had told the driver to drive as fast as he could; but they were recognised through the closed windows. Instantly the carriage was stopped, the horses taken out, the doors opened; they had to get out, pass through the crowd, bow in response to the cheering and walk through waving handkerchiefs, the flourishing of hats and shouts of "Vivent les républicains!" as far as Trélat's home. Guilley, also recognised, was still less fortunate: they carried him in their arms, in spite of all his protests and efforts to escape. Only one of them, who left by the main entrance, passed through the crowd unrecognised, Commissionaire Gourdin, who pushed a hand-cart containing his luggage and that of his comrades in captivity, which he carried back home.
This acquittal sent me back to my rehearsals; and it was almost settled forAntonyto be run during the last days of April. But the last days of April were to find us thrown back into an altogether different sort of agitation. The law of 13 December 1830 with respect to national rewards had ordained the creation of a new order of merit which was to be called theCross of July.There had been a reason for this creation which might excuse the deed, and which had induced republicans to support the law. A decoration which recalls civil war and a victory won by citizens over fellow-citizens, by the People over the Army or by the Army over the People, is always a melancholy object; but, as I say, there was an object underlying it different from this. It was to enable people to recognise one another on any given occasion, and to know, consequently, on whom to rely. These crosses had been voted by committees comprised of fighters who were difficult to deceive;for, out of their twelve members, of which, I believe, each bureau consisted, there were always two or three who, if the cross were misplaced on some unworthy breast, were able to set the error right, or to contradict it. The part I took in the Revolution was sufficiently public for this cross to be voted to me without disputes; but, besides, as soon as the crosses were voted, as the members of the different committees could not give each other crosses, I was appointed a member of the committee commissioned to vote crosses to the first distributors. The institution was therefore, superficially, quite popular and fundamentally Republican. Thus we were astounded when, on 30 April, an order appeared, countersigned by Casimir Périer, laying down the following points—
"The Cross of July shall consist of a three-branched star. The reverse side shall bear on it: 27, 28 and 29July1830. It shall have for motto:Given by the King of the French.It shall be worn on a blue ribbon edged with red. The citizens decorated with the July CrossSHALL BE PREPARED TO SWEAR FIDELITY TO THE KING OF THE FRENCH, and obedience to the Constitutional Charter and to the laws of the realm."
"The Cross of July shall consist of a three-branched star. The reverse side shall bear on it: 27, 28 and 29July1830. It shall have for motto:Given by the King of the French.It shall be worn on a blue ribbon edged with red. The citizens decorated with the July CrossSHALL BE PREPARED TO SWEAR FIDELITY TO THE KING OF THE FRENCH, and obedience to the Constitutional Charter and to the laws of the realm."
The order was followed by a list of the names of the citizens to whom the cross was awarded. I had seen my name on the list, with great delight, and on the same day I, who had never worn any cross, except on solemn occasions, bought a red and black ribbon and put it in my buttonhole. The red and black ribbon requires an explanation. We had decided, in our programme which was thus knocked on the head by the Royal command, that the ribbon was to be red, edged with black. The red was to be a reminder of the blood that had been shed; the black, for the mourning worn. I did not, then, feel that I could submit to that portion of the order which decreed blue ribbon edged with red,—any more than to the motto:Given by the King, or to the oath of fidelity to the king, the Constitutional Charter and the laws ofthe kingdom. Many followed my example, and, at the Tuileries, where I went for a walk to see if some agent of authority would come and pick a quarrel with me on account of my ribbon, I found a dozen decorated persons, among whom were two or three of my friends, who, no doubt, had gone there with the same intention as mine. Furthermore, the National Guard was, at that date, on duty at the Tuileries, and they presented arms to the red and black ribbon as to that of the Légion d'honneur. At night, we learnt that there was to be a meeting at Higonnet's, to protest against the colour of the ribbon, the oath and the motto. I attended and protested; and, next day, I went to my rehearsal wearing my ribbon. That was on 1 May; we had arrived at general rehearsals, and, as I have said, I was becoming reconciled to my piece, without, however,—so different was it from conventional notions—having any idea whether the play would succeed or fail. But the success which the two principal actors would win was incontestable. Bocage had made use of every faculty to bring out the originality of the character he had to represent, even to the physical defects we have notified in him.
Madame Dorval had made the very utmost out of the part of Adèle. She enunciated her words with admirable precision, all the striking points were brought out, except one which she had not yet discovered. "Then I am lost!" she had to exclaim, when she heard of her husband's arrival. Well, she did not know how to render those four words: "Then I am lost!" And yet she realised that, if said properly, they would produce a splendid effect. All at once an illumination flashed across her mind.
"Are you here, author?" she asked, coming to the edge of the footlights to scan the orchestra.
"Yes ... what is it?" I replied.
"How did Mlle. Mars say: 'Then I am lost!'?"
"She was sitting down, and got up."
"Good!" replied Dorval, returning to her place, "I will be standing, and will sit down."
The rehearsal was finished; Alfred de Vigny had been present, and given me some good hints. I had made Antony an atheist, he made me obliterate that blot in the part. He predicted a grand success for me. We parted, he persisting in his opinion, I shaking my head dubiously. Bocage led me into his dressing-room to show me his costume. I saycostume, for although Antony was clad like ordinary mortals, in a cravat, frock-coat, waistcoat and trousers, there had to be, on account of the eccentricity of the character, something peculiar in the set of the cravat and shape of the waistcoat, in the cut of the coat and in the set of the trousers. I had, moreover, given Bocage my own ideas on the subject, which he had adapted to perfection; and, seeing him in those clothes, people understood from the very first that the actor did not represent just an ordinary man. It was settled that the piece should be definitely given on 3 May; I had then only two more rehearsals before the great day. The preceding ones had been sadly neglected by me; I attended the last two with extreme assiduity. When Madame Dorval reached the sentence which had troubled her for long, she kept her word: she was standing and sank into an armchair as though the earth had given way under her feet, and exclaimed, "Then I am lost!" in such accents of terror that the few persons who were present at the rehearsal broke into cheers. The final general rehearsal was held with closed doors; it is always a mistake to introduce even the most faithful of friends to a general rehearsal: on the day of the performance they tell the plot of the play to their neighbours, or walk about the corridors talking in loud voices, and creaking their boots on the floor. I have never taken much credit to myself for giving theatre tickets to my friends for the first performance; but I have always repented of giving them tickets of admission for a general rehearsal. Against this it will be argued that spectators can give good advice: in the first place, it is too late to act upon any important suggestion at general rehearsals; then, those who reallyoffer valuable advice, during the course of rehearsals, are the actors, firemen, scene-shifters, supernumeraries and everybody, in fact, who lives by the stage, and who know the theatre much better than all the Bachelors of Arts and Academicians in existence. Well, then! my theatrical world had predictedAntony'ssuccess, scene-shifters, firemen craning their necks round the wings, actors and actresses and supers going into the auditorium and watching the scenes in which they didn't appear. The night of production had come.
The first representation ofAntony—The play, the actors, the public—Antonyat the Palais-Royal—Alterations of thedénoûment
The first representation ofAntony—The play, the actors, the public—Antonyat the Palais-Royal—Alterations of thedénoûment
The times were unfavourable for literature: all minds were turned upon politics, and disturbances were flying in the air as, on hot summer evenings, swifts fly overhead with their shrill screams, and black-winged bats wheel round. My piece was as well put on as it could be; but, except for the expenditure of talent which the actors were going to make, M. Crosnier had gone to no other cost; not a single new carpet or decoration, not even a salon was renovated. The work might fail without regret, for it had only cost the manager the time spent over the rehearsals.
The curtain rose, Madame Dorval, in her gauze dress and town attire, a society woman, in fact, was a novelty at the theatre, where people had recently seen her inLes Deux Forçats, and inLe Joueur: so her early scenes only met with a half-hearted success; her harsh voice, round shoulders and peculiar gestures, of which she so often made use that, in the scenes which contained no passionate action, they became merely vulgar, naturally did not tell in favour of the play or the actress. Two or three admirably true inflections, however, found grace with the audience, but did not arouse its enthusiasm sufficiently to extract one single cheer from it. It will be recollected that Bocage has very little to do in the first act: he is brought in fainting, and the only chance he has for any effect is where he tears off the bandage from his wound, uttering, as he faints away for the second time: "And now I shall remain, shall I not?" Only after that sentence did the audience begin to understand the piece, and to feel thehidden dramatic possibilities of a work whose first act ended thus. The curtain fell in the midst of applause. I had ordered the intervals between the acts to be short. I went behind the scenes myself to hurry the actors, managers and scene-shifters. In five minutes' time, before the excitement had had time to cool down, the curtain went up again. The second act fell to the share of Bocage entirely. He threw himself vigorously into it, but not egotistically, allowing Dorval as much part as she had a right to take; he rose to a magnificent height in the scene of bitter misanthropy and amorous threatening, a scene, by the bye, which—except for that of the foundlings—took up pretty nearly the whole act. I repeat that Bocage was really sublime in these parts: intelligence of mind, nobleness of heart, expression of countenance,—the very type of the Antony, as I had conceived him, was presented to the public. After the act, whilst the audience were still clapping, I went behind to congratulate him heartily. He was glowing with enthusiasm and encouragement, and Dorval told him, with the frankness of genius, how delighted she was with him. Dorval had no fears at all. She knew that the fourth and fifth acts were hers, and quietly waited her turn. When I re-entered the theatre it was in a state of excitement; one could feel the air charged with those emotions which go to the making of great success. I began to believe that I was right, and the whole world wrong, even my manager; I except Alfred de Vigny, who had predicted success. My readers know the third act, it is all action, brutal action; with regard to violence, it bears a certain likeness to the third act ofHenri III., where the Duc de Guise crushes his wife's wrist to force her to give Saint-Mégrin a rendez-vous in her own handwriting. Happily, the third act at the Théâtre-Français having met with success, it made a stepping-stone for that at the Porte-Saint-Martin. Antony, in pursuit of Adèle, is the first to reach a village inn, where he seizes all the post-horses to oblige her to stop there, chooses the room that suits him best of the only two in the house, arranges an entrance into Adèle's room from the balcony, and withdraws as he hears the soundof her carriage wheels. Adèle enters and begs to be supplied with horses. She is only a few leagues from Strassburg, where she is on her way to join her husband; the horses taken away by Antony are not to be found: Adèle is obliged to spend the night in the inn. She takes every precaution for her safety, which, the moment she is alone, becomes useless, because of the opening by the balcony, forgotten in her nervous investigations. Madame Dorval was adorable in her feminine simplicity and instinctive terrors. She spoke as no one had spoken, or ever will speak them, those two extremely simple sentences: "But this door will not shut!" and "No accident has ever happened in your hotel, Madame?" Then, when the mistress of the inn has withdrawn, she decides to go into her bedroom. Hardly had she disappeared before a pane of the window falls broken to atoms, an arm appears and unlatches the catch, the window is opened and both Antony and Adèle appear, the one on the balcony of her window, the other on the threshold of the room. At the sight of Antony, Adèle utters a cry. The rest of the scene was terrifyingly realistic. To stop her from crying out again, Antony placed a handkerchief on Adèle's mouth, drags her into the room, and the curtain falls as they are both entering it together. There was a moment of silence in the house. Porcher, the man whom I have pointed out as one of our three or four pretenders to the crown as the most capable of bringing about a restoration, was charged with the office of producing my restoration, but hesitated to give the signal. Mahomet's bridge was not narrower than the thread which at that moment hung Antony suspended between success and failure. Success carried the day, however. A great uproar succeeded the frantic rounds of applause which burst forth in a torrent. They clapped and howled for five minutes. When I have failures, rest assured I will not spare myself; but, meanwhile, I ask leave to be allowed to tell the truth. On this occasion the success belonged to the two actors; I ran behind the theatre to embrace them. No Adèle and no Antony to be found! I thought for a moment that, carried away by the enthusiasm ofthe performance, they had resumed the play at the words, "Antony lui jette un mouchoir sur la bouche, et remporte dans sa chambre," and had continued the piece. I was mistaken: they were both changing their costumes and were shut in their dressing-rooms. I shouted all kinds of endearing terms through the door.
"Are you satisfied?" Bocage inquired.
"Enchanted."
"Bravo! the rest of the piece belongs to Dorval."
"You will not leave her in the lurch?"
"Oh! be easy on that score!"
I ran to Dorval's door.
"It is superb, my child—splendid! magnificent!"
"Is that you, my big bow-wow?"
"Yes."
"Come in, then!"
"But the door is fast."
"To everybody but you." She opened it; she was unstrung; and, half undressed as she was, she flung herself into my arms.
"I think we have secured it, my dear!"
"What?"
"Why! a success, of course!"
"H'm! h'm!"
"Are you not satisfied?"
"Yes, quite."
"Hang it! You would be hard to please, if you were not."
"It seems to me, however, that we have passed out of the worst troubles!"
"True, all has gone well so far; but ..."
"But what, come, my big bow-wow! Oh! I do love you for giving me such a fine part!"
"Did you see the society women, eh?"
"No."
"What did they say of me?"
"But I did not see them ..."
"You will see them?"
"Oh yes."
"Then you will repeat what they say ... but frankly, mind."
"Of course."
"Look, there is my ball dress."
"Pretty swell, I fancy!"
"Oh! big dog, do you know how much you have cost me?"
"No."
"Eight hundred francs!"
"Come here." I whispered a few words in her ear.
"Really?" she exclaimed.
"Certainly!"
"You will do that?"
"Of course, since I have said so."
"Kiss me."
"No."
"Why not?"
"I never kiss people when I make them a present."
"Why?"
"I expect them to kiss me."