He put his horse into a trot upon these words, and M. Berryer did the same; almost at the same instant, the man who formed the rear-guard caught them up at a gallop. They found their guide motionless andundecided at the forking of the two roads. The path desected and, as no one had answered his cry from either side, he did not know which of the footpaths he must take; both would lead the travellers to their destination. After a minute's deliberation in low tones between the chief and the guide, the latter plunged out of sight into the dark alley to the right; five minutes afterwards, M. Berryer and the chief started at a walk along the same path, leaving their fourth companion motionless at the place they left, and five minutes later he also followed them. Three hundred yards further on, M. Berryer and the chief found that their scout had stopped; he signed to them to command silence, and said in a whisper—"A patrol!" They could, indeed, hear the regular step of a troop on the march; it was a moving column which was making its nightly round. The noise soon came nearer to them, and they saw against the sky the outline of the soldiers' bayonets, who, in order to avoid the water which collected in the deep paths, had followed neither of the two roads, the bifurcation of which had caused the guide a momentary hesitation, but had climbed the slope, and were walking between the two hedges, on the ground which overlooked the two sunk footpaths by which it was enclosed. Had a single one of the four horses neighed, the little troop would have been taken prisoners; but they seemed to understand the position of their masters, and kept silence like them, so the soldiers went on unsuspecting whom they had closely passed by. When the sound of their steps was lost in the distance, the travellers resumed their march. At half-past ten o'clock, they turned off the road and entered a wood. The little band got down and left the horses under the care of the two peasants, while M. Berryer and the chief went on their way alone. They were not very far distant from the farmhouse where Madame was; but, as they wanted to enter by a back door, they had to make a détour, and to cross through some marsheswhere they sank almost up to their knees; at last the dark little mass of buildings which formed the farmstead, surrounded with trees, appeared, and soon they reached the door. The chief knocked in a particular way. Steps approached, and a voice asked, "Who is there?" The chief replied with the agreed-upon word, and the door was opened. An old woman performed the office of concierge; but she was accompanied, for greater security, by a tall, robust fellow, armed with a stick, which, in such hands as his, would have proved as formidable as any other weapon.
"We want M. Charles," said the chief.
"He is asleep," replied the old woman; "but he told us to inform him if any one came. Go into the kitchen while I wake him."
"Tell him it is M. Berryer who has come from Paris," added the latter.
The old woman left them in the kitchen and went away. The travellers went close up to the huge fireplace, where a few embers left of the day's fire still remained. One end of a beam was fixed into the chimney place, whilst the other end was held tight in a kind of claw made by a crack—it was one of those pieces of inflammable firwood, used in Vendéen cottages instead of a lamp or candle. In ten minutes' time, the old woman came in and told M. Berryer that M. Charles was ready to receive him, and that she had come to lead him to him. He thereupon followed her, and ascended behind her a wretched staircase, which was outside the house, and seemed to be fixed along the wall, till he reached a small room on the first floor, the only one, indeed, which was at all habitable in the miserable farmhouse. This room was occupied by the Duchesse de Berry. The old woman opened the door, and, remaining outside, shut it after M. Berryer. His attention was at first entirely taken up by Madame. She was lying on a poor, coarsely carved, worm-eaten wooden bedstead, in very fine linen sheets, covered with aScotch shawl of red and green plaid; she had on one of those muslin nightcaps worn by the women of the country, with lappets, falling on the shoulders. The walls were bare; a miserable white-washed fireplace warmed the room, which, in the way of furniture, only contained a table covered with papers, upon which rested two brace of pistols: in one corner of the apartment there was a chair on which had been flung the complete dress of a young peasant, and a black wig.
We have said that the object of the interview between M. Berryer and the duchesse was to persuade the latter to leave France; but, as we cannot report the details of that conversation concerning general interests without compromising private interests, we will pass it over in silence; as we have made our readers well acquainted with the men and things of this period, they will easily fill them in for themselves. Only by three o'clock in the morning did Madame give in to the arguments which M. Berryer had taken upon his own responsibility to convey to her. Although the duchesse could see for herself that there was but little chance of success attending an armed insurrection, it was not without crying and despair that she yielded.
"Very well, it is settled," she said, "I am to quit France; but I shall not come back to it again, take heed, for I do not wish to return with foreigners; they are but waiting for a chance, as you well know, and the moment will come: they will come and ask for my son—not that they will trouble themselves much more over him than they did over Louis XVIII. in 1813, but it will be a means for them to have a share in Paris. Very well, then, they shall not have my son! for nothing in this world shall they have him; I will rather carry him away into the mountains of Calabria! Look here, Monsieur Berryer, if it is necessary to buy the throne of France by the cession of a province, a town, a fortress or a cottage, like thatin which I am, I give you my word, as regent and as mother, he shall never be king."
Finally, Madame made up her mind. M. Berryer took leave of her at four in the morning, taking with him her promise to rejoin him at noon in the second house he had put up at, which was situated four country leagues from the place where he had left his coachman. When the duchesse arrived there, she was to get into the little hired conveyance, and to return to Nantes in the company of M. Berryer, there to take coach with her fictitious passport, and, travelling right through France, to go out of it by the Mont Cenis route. M. Berryer stopped at the place agreed upon, and waited there for Madame from noon until six o'clock. Only then did he receive a message from her; the duchesse had changed her decision. She wrote to him that she had linked too many interests to hers, drawn too many lives to her own lot, to escape alone from the consequences of her descent into France, and to leave them pressing upon others; that, therefore, she had decided to share to the end the fate of those whom she had implicated; only, the taking up of arms, at first fixed for 24 May, was put off till the night of the 3rd to the 4th of June.
M. Berryer returned to Nantes in consternation. On the 25th, M. de Bourmont received a letter from the duchesse confirming what she had written to M. Berryer; as follows:—
"Having resolutely determined not to leave the Western provinces, and to entrust myself to fidelity of long standing, I count on you, my good friend, to take all the necessary measures for the taking up of arms, which will take place during the night of 3rd to 4th June. I call to my aid all courageous people; God will help us to save our country! No danger, no fatigue will dishearten me; I shall put in my appearance at the first rallying."MARIE-CAROLINE,Regent of France"VENDÉE, 25May1832"
"Having resolutely determined not to leave the Western provinces, and to entrust myself to fidelity of long standing, I count on you, my good friend, to take all the necessary measures for the taking up of arms, which will take place during the night of 3rd to 4th June. I call to my aid all courageous people; God will help us to save our country! No danger, no fatigue will dishearten me; I shall put in my appearance at the first rallying.
"MARIE-CAROLINE,Regent of France
"VENDÉE, 25May1832"
Immediately upon receipt of this letter, M. de Bourmont wrote a note to M. de Coislin in the following terms:—
"As Madame has courageously resolved not to abandon the country, and is rallying round her all who wish to preserve France from the misfortunes which threaten her, make known to all that they are to hold themselves ready on Sunday, 3 June, and that they arrange throughout the following night to act together, according to the directions we have given. Make very certain your orders are conveyed to everybody and to all points."MARÉCHAL COMTE DE BOURMONT"
"As Madame has courageously resolved not to abandon the country, and is rallying round her all who wish to preserve France from the misfortunes which threaten her, make known to all that they are to hold themselves ready on Sunday, 3 June, and that they arrange throughout the following night to act together, according to the directions we have given. Make very certain your orders are conveyed to everybody and to all points.
"MARÉCHAL COMTE DE BOURMONT"
This, then, was how things were in la Vendée when the report of the death of General Lamarque ran through Paris. It followed that of Casimir Périer by only a few days: the two strong athletes were rudely strangled during their struggles in the Tribune, which seem to have killed them both. But the soldier survived the tribune by a few days. The impression produced by these two deaths was very different: nothing could be compared with the unpopularity of the one, and the popularity of the other. This death coincided with the famous affair of thecompte rendu.We live so fast, and the gravest events pass over so quickly, that oblivion comes as rapidly as nightfall. Not one young man of thirty knows definitely to-day what the affair of thecompte renduwas that we indicate was of so grave a nature.
After M. Laffitte gave up the seals of power, he returned to the Opposition; this was simple enough, since it was in order to bring about an easy reaction that Louis-Philippe had banished his prime minister and his old friend. M. Laffitte's Opposition was the most Conservative imaginable from the standpoint of enlightened politics. If anything could add to the duration of the reign, condemned in advance, it was the plan expounded by him to his co-religionists on the Left: this theory, of which M. Laffitte was the High Priest, and M. Odilon Barrot the Apostle, consisted in recovering possession of power bythe help of a parliamentary majority, to make the infusion of political clemency triumphant, and to make the monarchydefinitively—the word is Louis Blanc's—guardian over liberty; a narrow but honest dream, which, compelled to tread between reaction and insurrection, could never become a reality.
As for the Radical deputies, they were divided into two representative shades of opinion, the most advanced led by Garnier-Pagès, the other by M. Maugnin; their object was to renew a sort of league after the type of those of the Guises, with the object of leading the Bourbon monarchy unconsciously, in 1836 or 1837, to be what the Valois monarchy of 1585 or 1586 had been.
To sum up, with the exception of those who have since been called thecentriers,theventrusand thesatisfaits,that is to say, that ruminant kind of being which looks in all times towards the trough of the Budget and the rack of the Civil List, everybody was dissatisfied. All the malcontents, desirous of a change, whether of system or of persons, but who only desired to reach such changes by constitutional means, gathered together during the month of May at M. Laffitte's to attempt a last supreme effort. Pure Republicans who, on the contrary, only admitted insurrectionist methods, and marched separately in their strength and liberty, sleeping on their arms, took no part whatever in this meeting, the leaders of which were MM. Laffitte, Odilon Barrot, Cormenin, Charles Comte, Mauguin, Lamarque, Garnier-Pagès and La Fayette. The last three sailed by the limits of Constitutional and Republican opposition, quite closely, not indeed so near as to belong to our camp, that of militant Republicanism, but near enough to let themselves be drawn along with it. The meeting at Laffitte's was composed of upwards of forty deputies. M. Laffitte spoke and summed up the situation with the threefold clearness of the orator, the financier and man of honour, and he suggested an address to the king. It was the old method,always repulsed, but always returning to the charge, under the name ofparliamentary remonstrancesin the time of absolute monarchy, and by the title of anaddressin the time of constitutional monarchy.
Garnier-Pagès, a just, incisive character, had but two words to say with which to fight the proposition victoriously. Could any one not mad conceive the illusion that royalty would consent to admit itself guilty, to recognise its errors and to make honourable amends to the nation? No, the monarchy and the nation were in a complete state of rupture. The nation must be appealed to concerning the errors of the monarchy. Garnier-Pagès would go so far as to term those errors treasons, and this sent a shudder down the spines of certain deputies of the Opposition. The upshot of the meeting was that the Opposition put its grievances before the nation under the form of a report. A commission was appointed, consisting of MM. La Fayette, Laffitte, Cormenin, Odilon Barrot, Charles Comte and Mauguin. MM. de Cormenin and Odilon Barrot were given the task of each drawing up the report separately; they would decide finally whether to choose either report or to destroy both reports. The work of each of the two editors bore signs of his own individual characteristics: M. de Cormenin too much recalled the bold pamphleteer who signed himselfTimon le Misanthrope.M. Odilon Barrot, on the contrary, seemed too exclusively to bind up the future of France with the monarchical form of government. Neither of the two plans was adopted. It was decided to unite MM. de Cormenin and Barrot's two reports into one, or, rather, to draw up the manifesto in common, and it strongly resembled a declaration of war. Both left for Saint-Cloud in the morning and returned with the manifesto in the evening. It was in M. de Cormenin's handwriting; but it was easily seen that Odilon Barrot had had a great deal to do in the drawing up. However, whatever the share M. Barrot had in this work, the reportassumed the character, if not exactly of a threat, at least of a severe and solemn warning. It appeared on 28 May 1832. One hundred and thirty-three deputies had signed it. It made a profound impression, and the death of General Lamarque, one of the principal signatories to the manifesto, threw a dark and almost mysterious shade upon the situation, such as the hand of death seems to cast over certain fatal days.
Last moments of General Lamarque—What his life had been—One of my interviews with him—I am appointed one of the stewards of the funeral cortège—The procession—Symptoms of popular agitation—The marching past across the place Vendôme—The Duke Fitz-James—Conflicts provoked by the town police—The students of the École Polytechnique join the cortège—Arrival of the funeral procession at the pont d'Austerlitz—Speeches—First shots—The man with the red flag—Allocution of Étienne Arago
Last moments of General Lamarque—What his life had been—One of my interviews with him—I am appointed one of the stewards of the funeral cortège—The procession—Symptoms of popular agitation—The marching past across the place Vendôme—The Duke Fitz-James—Conflicts provoked by the town police—The students of the École Polytechnique join the cortège—Arrival of the funeral procession at the pont d'Austerlitz—Speeches—First shots—The man with the red flag—Allocution of Étienne Arago
On 1 June, at half-past eleven in the evening, General Lamarque had breathed his last. His death was a great event. At that period the Republican party used Napoleon's name as a weapon. Now, General Lamarque—a thing which would be much more difficult to define now than in those days, when people judged much more by instinct than by education—General Lamarque was, at that time, a supporter of the Empire and also of liberty, a soldier of Napoleon and a friend of La Fayette. Napoleon, it will be remembered, had made him Maréchal de France at Saint-Helena. Neither the Bourbons of the Elder Branch, nor those of the Younger, had had sufficient intelligence to ratify the appointment; but, in the eyes of France, it was, indeed, one of her maréchals who had just died. Then, too, there was really something grand about his death, by reason of the circumstances under which it happened and the particular incidents which had accompanied it. A multitude of sayings after the style of Cato and Leonidas were quoted that General Lamarque had said on his deathbed. He died heroically and yet regretting life. The thought whichhad dwelt in his heart as long as it beat was—"I have not done enough for France!"
The illness of which the general died seemed to deceive the doctors; sometimes the invalid appeared to be on the high way to convalescence and the bulletin of his health would announce the good news to his friends; sometimes a fatal crisis put the sick man further back than the improvement had carried him. He himself was never deceived by these passing improvements. His friends, Drs. Lisfranc and Broussais, attended him with the devotion both of science and of friendship.
"My friends," the general invariably said to them, "I am grateful for your care; I am touched by it, but you will not vanquish the disease! You have hope and you want me to hope; in vain, I feel I shall succumb."
Then, a minute later, he added with a sigh—
"Ah! I am sorry to die! I should have liked to serve France still longer.... And, too, I am specially disappointed not to be able to measure swords with Wellington, who made his reputation by the defeat he inflicted at Waterloo; I have made a study of him; I knew his tactics and I am quite sure I should have beaten him!"
Laffitte went to see him as often as his busy life allowed. At the last visit he paid him, France alone was the leading topic of conversation.
"Oh! my friend! my friend!" the invalid said, as he said good-bye to him, "reserve your strength for France; she alone is great! We are all small.... But," he added, weighed down by a never-ceasing idea, "I depart still full of regret that I have not been able to avenge my country for the infamous treaties of 1814 and 1815."
It was General Lamarque who uttered the sublime phrase that was flung at an orator who was boasting of the peace which had been brought about with the return of the Bourbons—
"The peace of 1815 is no peace; it is a halt in the mud!" General Exelmans, the other old war comrade who wasto survive him by twenty years to die from a fall off his horse, came also to see him, and to try to restore hope, which, as we have said, had long before died in the heart of the invalid.
"What matter," he exclaimed, in a kind of impatience, "what matter that I die, provided my country lives?"
In a moment of discouragement, when he saw open before him the grave, which had swallowed up much patriotism, he had the sword of honour brought to him which had been given him by the officers of the Hundred Days, whose cause he had pleaded with much fervour and great success; then, sitting up in bed, he drew the sword from its scabbard, looked at it a long time, laid it across his knees, and finally carried it to his lips, saying—
"My dear officers of the Hundred Days! They gave it me to be used, and I have not used it!"
Once, overcome by grief, in the presence of Dr. Lisfranc, he made an onslaught against the impotent art which we call medicine. Suddenly, perceiving before whom he was speaking, he said—
"I curse medicine, but I bless doctors, who do a lot with the small amount of knowledge which science places in their hands. Embrace me, Lisfranc, and do not forget that I loved you very much!"
His last moments were, as we see, worthy of a soldier; he had struggled against death as Leonidas against Xerxes; his bed had been the battlefield. An hour before he died, in the agony which his sufferings betrayed by his starts and shudderings, he opened his eyes, which had been closed for thirty-six hours, and three times he uttered the two words: "Honour! Country!"—the two words engraved on the Cross of the Legion of Honour. He breathed his last an hour after he had uttered the cry which had been that of his whole lifetime.
It is said that a dying man achieves greatness; it is true, both morally as well as physically. General Lamarque increased enormously in greatness in everybody's eyes.
They remembered the boy volunteer of nineteen, the young captain of the famous infernal column, bringing to the Convention a strip of flag taken from the enemy, and winning from that great and terrible Assembly a vote pronouncing Captain Lamarque to have deserved well from his country. How splendid his military life had been through the thirty years that had passed since then!
They remembered Caprée, Calabria, the Tyrol and Wagram, where he broke the Austrian army three times; they recalled and extolled his struggles each day in Catalogne, against Wellington, who never conquered him and whom he hoped to conquer. Then, too, his political life, as a member of the Tribune, was none the less fine; his presence in all the struggles in the Chamber; his voice always raised on behalf of the honour and defence of France; his entreaties in favour of liberty when it was threatened; his cries of alarm each time he saw the Revolution compromise; ill and weak as he was up to the day he took to his bed, he never kept silence or yielded when any question of national honour arose.
When General Foy died, he at least left us Lamarque, as Miltiades left Themistocles. When General Lamarque died, he left behind him the heritage of a race of warriors which has given generals to the battlefield and tribunes to the Chamber. In spite of all the right he had to public recognition, the Government of Louis-Philippe, who only regarded General Lamarque as an enemy, and rejoiced at the fall of an enemy, only accorded to his obsequies the tribute of honour strictly due to the political and military position of a general; all the funeral arrangements were left to the pious care and to the responsibility of his friends and family.
I was made a steward by the family and had the charge of seeing that the artillery took its proper place behind the funeral car. This honour was, in a way, a souvenir which the dead bequeathed to the living. In common with General Foy and General La Fayette, General Lamarquehad been very friendly to me, due, indeed, more to memory of my father than to my own personal valour. But still, when he knew, about the close of 1830, that I had returned from la Vendée, where I had been sent by General La Fayette, he begged me to go and see him. We talked for long of the Vendée as he had known it in 1815, when he was going on a mission from a fresh government; I told him all I thought about it, namely, that, some day or other, it threatened to rise in revolt. Every word of mine answered to some foresight of his own. I traced out my journey for him with blackheaded pins and indicated the probable places where there would be gatherings. He left for Nantes on the following day. But they did not let him reach his destination; at Angers he was stopped by an order recalling him.
We believe this measure was the result of those niggardly schemes which the ministry of Casimir Périer labelled with the title of wide political vision, and I believe I am not wrong in applying to him the same explanation that I did not hesitate to apply to Louis-Philippe, after the interview I had the honour to have with him upon our return from Vendée.
The revolution of 1830 had been so sudden that, for a moment, we Republicans thought it was complete; the report of its arms and its cries of liberty had reverberated throughout Belgium, Italy and Poland; three nations rose and cried, "France, come to our aid!" An appeal like this France always listens to, and General La Fayette replied in the name of France. The most lively and popular sympathy had, moreover, burst forth in our towns and countrysides in favour of revolutions carried out on our own lines; partial and distant eruptions of that great volcano whose crater is in Paris, and which seems at times extinct, like Etna, but, as deceptive as Etna, is always burning! Shouts of "Vivent l'Italie, la Belgique et la Pologne!" filled our streets and entered everywhere through the windowsand doors of royal and ministerial palaces. It was scarcely three months after the Revolution; at that period all still glowed with the sun of the Three Days, the grand voice of the people was still listened to, and the Government only had to promise through General La Fayette, as we have said above, for the nations of Belgium, Italy and Poland to be kept from perishing. And we heard the cries of joy of these foreign patriots in less than four months change to cries of distress. But what other could we expect? Let them succour Italy by sending one of the old generals, who would have shown them the way to make a new army, and Poland by diverting the Czar's plans, by inciting—an easy task for us—Turkey on one side and Persia on the other. Thus caught in a triangle of fire, we should leave Russia to contend, and we should divide between our two neighbour nations the most effective aid of our presence and of our arms. The people, true and profound of instinct, would thus feel, without being able to account for the means, the three probable results, and they would receive with shouts of joy the proclamation of the ministerial system of nonintervention, and the royal promise that the Polish nationality should not perish.
Advanced as were the ministers of Louis-Philippe's kingdom, they must either go to war or forswear it: by making war, they would get into trouble with kings; by forswearing it, they would get into trouble with the people. One way only remained: to prove to the country that it had too much to do in respect of its own affairs to busy itself in meddling with those of others; it was like giving to France an internal fever, as we have already said; through being taken up with its own sufferings it would have more sympathy for those of others. A small civil war in la Vendée would help its outlook wonderfully. It was therefore necessary to send far out of that country, upon which they wished to experiment, all strong men who might compromise movements from their beginnings,and all shrewd men who might guess the real cause of those movements.
Now, Lamarque was both a strong man and a far-seeing one; so they did not give him time to arrive on the scene of civil war. It was to these circumstances I owed the honour of coming in contact with General Lamarque and of not being forgotten by the family at the time of rendering the last honours to the conqueror of Caprée. I went to tell my friends Bastide and Godefroy Cavaignac of my appointment, and asked them if they had arranged anything for the morrow. They had a meeting at Étienne Arago's for the same evening, who, as I have previously said, was lieutenant in the 12th Legion of Artillery, and who, in case of a triumphant insurrection, was designed by a secret organisation to be mayor of the first arrondissement; the son of the noted barrister Bernard (of Rennes), was his associate. Arago lived in Bernard's house, which was at the corner of the place and rue des Pyramides. Nothing was settled at this meeting; no sort of plan was drawn up or scheme fixed upon: each one was left to his own devices to act according to circumstances. Nevertheless, the detachment of artillery commanded for the funeral cortège appeared armed at the house of mourning and provided themselves with cartridges.
On 5 June, the day fixed for the funeral, I went at eight in the morning to the general's house, in the faubourg Saint-Honoré. In my capacity as steward I had no rifle, nor, consequently, any cartridges. There were already, by eight o'clock, over three thousand persons in front of the house. I saw a group of young people who were preparing a kind of ammunition-waggon with ropes. I went up to them and asked them what they were busy with. "They were arranging the ropes," they replied, "with which to draw the funeral car." At the same time, they informed me that General Lamarque's body was lying in state in his sleeping-room and that people were defiling past the bed of state. I wentand put myself in the queue and filed past in my turn. The general in full uniform was laid on his bed, with his gloved-hand on his bare sword; he had a fine head, and his dignity was increased by the majesty of death. Those who passed by did so in silence and veneration, stooping as they reached the foot of the bed and sprinkling holy water on the corpse with a bough of laurel. I passed by as the rest did and went back into the street again. I was extremely weak from the effect of the cholera, I had lost all my appetite and scarcely ate an ounce of bread a day. The day promised to be a fatiguing one: so I went into my friend Hiraux's, whose café was, as we know, at the corner of the rues Royale and Saint-Honoré, and I waited until the time for departure, trying to take a cup of chocolate. At eleven, a rolling of drums called me to my post. They had just brought down the coffin under the great gate, shrouded with black. All the various elements which go to the formation of a funeral procession rolled along the rue and faubourg Saint Honoré—National Guards, workmen, artillerymen, students, old soldiers, refugees of all countries, citizens from every town; leaving, like a twin lake, their waves rolling across the place de la Madeleine and the place Louis XV. At the roll of the drums, all this crowd disentangled itself and every one rallied round his own leader, flag and banner. Many only had laurel or oak branches for banners and flags. All this passed before the eyes of the four squadrons of carabiniers who occupied the place Louis XV. The 12th Light Infantry waited at the other end of Paris on the very place de la Bastille. The Municipal Guard, on its side, was placed at intervals along the route which extended from the Préfecture de Police to the Panthéon. A detachment of the same guard protected the Jardin des Plantes. A squadron of dragoons covered the place de Grève with a battalion of the 3rd Light. Finally, a detachment of soldiers of the same troop stood ready to mount their horses at the Célestins barracks. The remainingtroops were confined in their respective barracks, and orders were given that regiments from Rueil, Saint-Denis and Courbevoie should be sent if needed.
There were then in Paris, on the morning of that terrible day, nearly eighteen thousand men of the line and light infantry; four thousand four hundred cavalry; two thousand of the garde municipale infantry and cavalry. Nearly eighty thousand men in all. We had been told of this increase of troops—for we had friends even in the War Office—an increase due indisputably to the circumstances under which they found themselves; they had added that the Government only waited an excuse for showing its strength; this meant that, instead of fearing a riot, they desired one. But there was so much ardour in the young political head which constituted the Republican party, that directly the match touched the flint, the spark flashed forth which was to fire the powder-magazine, the very powder-magazine which was to blow us all up. We were congregated on the place Louis XV. with all the heads of the secret societies. Only one of these societies, the Société Gauloise, was in favour of fighting. The previous day, theSociété des Amis du peuplehad met in the boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle and had decided, as we had done on our part, that firing was not to be begun, but that it should be answered if it were begun by the soldiers. As will be seen it needed only a single shot to lead to a general slaughter.
In addition to this state of things, the heat was stifling, the atmosphere charged with electricity, and huge black clouds rolled over Paris, as though the sky were in mourning and wanted to take part in the funeral ceremony, by the rolling of its thunder. It is quite impossible to-day, at this distance of time, twenty-two years later, to give any idea of the degree of excitement to which the crowd had reached, when it received from its leaders the order to take the place assigned to each corps, corporation, society and nation, in the funeral procession. It wasnot a cortège; it was a federation round a funeral bier. At half-past eleven, under a driving rain, the state-carriage moved forward drawn by thirty young men. The corners of the pall were held by General La Fayette—who had a working man by his side wearing the July decoration, on whose arm the general leant from time to time when the paving became too slippery—by MM. Laffitte, Isay and Châtelain, of theCourrier français; by the Maréchal Clausel and by General Pelet; and, lastly, by M. Mauguin and a student from the École Polytechnique. Behind the bier walked M. de Laborde, questor to the Chamber, preceded by two ushers, accompanied by MM. Cabet and Laboissière, stewards of the cortège, and followed by a number of deputies and generals. The principal deputies were—
MM. le maréchal Gérard, Tardieu, Chevandier, Vatout, de Corcelles, Allier, Taillandier, de Las Cases fils, Nicod, Odilon Barrot, la Fayette (Georges), de Béranger, Larabit, de Cormenin, de Bryas, Degouve-Denuncques, Charles Comte, le général Subervie, le colonel Lamy, le Comte Lariboissière, Charles Dupin, Viennet, Sapey, Lherbette, Paturel, Bavoux, Baude, Marmier, Jouffroy, Duchaffaut, Pourrat, Pèdre-Lacaze, Bérard, François Arago, de Girardin, Gauthier d'Hauteserve, le général Tiburce Sébastiani, Garnier-Pagès, Leyraud, Cordier, Vigier.
The principal generals were—
MM. Mathieu Dumas, Emmanuel Rey, Lawoestine, Hulot, Berkem, Saldanha, Reminski, Seraski.
Of these three latter, the one was a Portuguese and the two others were Poles. With them were the maréchals de Camp Rewbell, Schmitz, Mayot and Sourd.
After the deputies and generals came the exiles of all countries, each group carrying its own national banner. Two battalions formed the escorting troop and marched in echelon on each side. Then—just as, in the midst of its quays, the flowing river overflows its banks after a storm—rolled by nearly six hundred artillerymenwith loaded rifles and cartridges in their cartridge-boxes and pockets; then ten thousand of the National Guard without guns, but armed with sabres; then groups of working men intermingled with members of secret societies; then thirty, perhaps forty or fifty thousand citizens! All these moved past in the rain. The cortège turned at the Madeleine along the boulevard, crowded on both sides with women and men, forming a variegated carpet, which the citizens at their doors or windows, men, women and children, took part in as though on a tapestry pattern. Not one of the ordinary sounds men make at great gatherings issued from that crowd. Only, from time to time a signal was given and, with incredible cohesion, the cry was uttered by a hundred thousand voices whilst flags, banners, pennons, branches of laurel and of oak were waved—
"Honneur au général Lamarque!..."
Then all lips were silent; and the branches of oak and laurel, pennons, banners and flags expressed no more motion than as before a brief and hot squall during a tempest. All was as silent and nearly as still as death. But in the air there floated an invisible something, whispering low: "Misfortune!" All eyes were fastened on us, the artillerymen. They knew well that if anything burst forth it would be from among the ranks of the men in that severe uniform who marched side by side, with gloomy looks and clenched teeth, who, like impatient horses shaking their plumes, shook the red streamers on their shakos. I could the better judge of these arrangements, as, under instruction from the family, I did not walk in the ranks, but by the side of the artillery. From time to time, men of the people whom I did not know broke through the hedge, and shook me by the left hand—I held my sabre in my right—and said to me—
"The artillery need not be anxious, we are here!"
It took nearly three-quarters of an hour to get to the rue de la Paix. There, a movement was, all at once, set on foot which no one at first understood. It was not in the programme. The head of the cortège was drawn in the midst of unintelligible shoutings in the direction of the place Vendôme. I ran to make inquiries: thanks to my uniform and to a certain popularity which it had already acquired, and especially to the gold-fringed tri-coloured scarf which I wore on my left arm, everybody made way for me. I therefore gained with more ease than I should have expected the head of the column, which was already moving into the rue de la Paix. And this is what had happened.
At the top of the rue de la Paix, a man dressed as an operative, but who it was easy to recognise belonged to a higher class, had broken away from the boulevards and was exchanging a few words with the young people attached to the hearse. Soon, a cry went up—
"Yes, yes, the soldier of Napoleon, round the column!... To the column! To the column!"
And, without consulting either generals or deputies or police, whether in uniform or without, a unanimous impulse made the catafalque deviate from the straight line and it was hurried into the rue de la Paix. This was episode the first of that day's journey. I ran and resumed my place.
"What is the matter?" they asked me.
"The hearse is going to be taken round the column."
"Will the post present arms?" a voice asked.
"Pardieu!" said another voice, "if they do not present arms of their own accord they shall be made to do so by force."
"Honour to General Lamarque!" shouted a hundred thousand voices.
Then, as before, all returned to silence: the head of the cortège reached the place Vendôme. Suddenly, a great shudder went through the crowd: that serpent with itsthousand coils trembled at the least shock from head to the tail. At the sight of the cortège coming out on the place Vendôme, the picket of the staff officers remained shut inside the guardhouse. The sentinel alone paced up and down before the door. A shout sounded—
"Honour to General Lamarque! Honour to General Lamarque!"
At the same time, a fiery crowd rushed upon the staff officer's guardhouse. The commandant did not even attempt to offer resistance; after a moment of parleying, he ordered his soldiers out, took the field and presented arms. This first episode prepared for the struggle by showing that the most lukewarm spirits were ready for an outburst. This successful issue was looked upon as a victory. It is, moreover, probable that the head of the guardhouse had had no orders of any kind.
The procession round the column had no connection whatever with the programme; the officer yielded, not from fear, but from the sympathy which, no doubt, his soldierly heart felt towards the remains of the great general and the famous member of the Tribune. He did wisely, for a terrible collision would else have taken place; and as it was so close to the Tuileries, who knows what would have happened? The cortège regained the rue de la Paix, and resumed its sombre and silent march along the boulevards. It reached the club in the rue de Choiseul, now theCercle des Arts; the balcony was filled with members of the club. Only one had his hat on his head; he was Duke Fitz-James. I guessed what would happen and I confess I trembled. I knew Duke Fitz-James very well indeed, and he, on his side, returned my friendship heartily. I knew that, if forced, he would rather be torn to pieces than take off his hat. I was, therefore, most anxious that he should raise it of his own accord. Just at that moment, whether by chance or by pre-concerted provocation, the insistent phrase, "Honneur au général Lamarque!" was echoed, followed by the cry, "Take offyour hat! Off with your hats!" At the same time, a hailstorm of stones broke the windows of the house. The duke was obliged to withdraw. Three days later, I asked him for an explanation of this show of bravado, as it was very much out of harmony with his courteous manners.
"I cannot answer you as to this," said the duke; "the explanation of the riddle will reach you from la Vendée."
Indeed, a letter from the noble duke was found among the papers of Madame la duchesse de Berry, giving the explanation of the keeping on of the hat: it was a signal to which no one responded, or, rather, to which only those replied who could not understand it. This incident stopped the procession for nearly ten minutes; the National Guards appeared upon the terrace and asserted that what had been taken for an insult from the ex-peer of France was only an aberration; and the catafalque resumed its route through the crowd, as a heavy-laden vessel, which has the wind against it, painfully cleaves through the waves of the sea. From that moment all doubt ceased in my mind, and I was convinced that the journey would not be done without resort to firearms. The six hundred artillerymen with their pale faces and frowning brows were also convinced of it. However, no other incident occurred during the course from the Choiseul Club to the Saint-Martin Gate. After passing the Gymnase, the rain had stopped falling; but thunder rumbled incessantly, intermingling with the rolling of the drums. The presence of the police placed at intervals along the sides of the procession put the finishing touch to the irritation in people's minds. Their aggressive air caused the feeling that they were there to get up a quarrel; or, much more likely, instead of being inclined to alienate quarrels, to stir them up with all their might. Opposite the theatre, a woman observed to a man of the people who carried a flag, that the Gaulois-cock was a bad emblem of democracy. The bearer of the standard, in all probability sharing this opinion, reversed the flag, broke the Gaulois-cock underfoot and put in its place a branch of willow, the tree of mourning and friend of the tomb. A policeman saw this substitution and the conditions under which it was made; he sprang forward and snatched the standard from the hands of the man who carried it; the latter resisted, and the policeman drew his sword and struck him in the throat. At the sight of blood, a cry of rage went forth from every mouth; twenty swords, sabres and daggers came out of their scabbards. The policeman recognising that I was a steward, sprang to my side, crying, "Save me!" I pushed him in among the ranks of the artillerymen; some were of a mind to protect him, others to tear him to pieces; for five minutes he stood as pale as a corpse between life and death. The more generous feeling carried the day, and he was saved. At the same moment, all looks were attracted towards the same direction. An insult was offered by another policeman to a veteran captain, who drew his sword and attacked him. The policeman, on his side, drew his sword from its sheath and defended himself furiously. When he attained the pavement he buried himself out of sight in the density of the crowd, where his flight could be noted by the imprecations which rose as he passed through. The young man wounded by the first policeman had been able to continue on his way, leaning on the arms of two friends. Only, he had taken off his collar, and the blood from his gaping wound flowed on to his shirt and down his coat. His July decoration (I remember that it was a July ribbon) had become as red as the ribbon of the Legion of Honour. From this moment the conviction went through all minds that a bloody affray was approaching. Everything, in fact, seemed to suggest the use of arms; the rolling of drums, the noise of the tamtams, the fluttering of the flags of all countries, the constant struggle between liberty and slavery, the cries of "Honneur au général Lamarque!" becoming more and more frequent and every time assuming a moredistinctly threatening character, the earth beneath and the skies above, and all that rent the air, combined to incite people's minds to a pitch of excitement filled with danger.
"Where are they leading us?" a terrified voice cried from the midst of a group of students.
"TO THE REPUBLIC!" replied a strong, sonorous voice, "and we invite you to suffer with us to-night in the Tuileries!"
A kind of groan of joy greeted this invitation, which, in a different sense, recalled that of Leonidas to those of Thermopylae, and I saw men who had no arms tear up the stakes which were used as props for the young trees that had just been planted on the boulevard in place of the old ones knocked down on 28 July 1830. Others broke the trees themselves to make into clubs.
The 12th Light were, as I have said, drawn up in line on the place de la Bastille. For an instant, it was thought the conflict would begin there; but, all at once, an officer came out from the front line, and advancing towards Étienne Arago, with whom he talked for a moment, he said to him—
"I am a Republican, I have pistols in my pockets; you can rely upon us."
Several artillerymen, who, like myself, had heard these words, shouted: "Vive la ligne!" The cry uttered by us was taken up with enthusiasm: they knew we should not give such a cry without reason. The line replied by a shout nearly as unanimous of: "Honneur au général Lamarque!" These words, "The line is on our side," repeated from rank to rank, ran through the whole length of the cortège like lightning. At the same time, loud shouts were heard of "L'École Polytechnique!... vive l'École! vive la République!" These were inspired by the sight of some sixty students running with disordered raiment, bareheaded, some with swords in their hands. They had been consigned to their quarters and had brokenout, overturning General Tholosé, who had tried to oppose their coming out; they had come to throw their popular name and their uniform, still blackened with the powder of July, into the insurrection. The artillery received them with open arms; they knew that, few though they were in number, they were a powerful support. Their arrival produced so much effect that, at sight of therm the band which preceded the hearse spontaneously played theMarseillaise.No idea can be formed of the enthusiasm with which the crowd greeted that electrifying air, forbidden for over a year. Fifty thousand voices repeated in chorus, "Citizens, to arms!" To this chant, the cortège crossed the place de la Bastille and traversed the boulevard Bourdon, advancing between the Saint-Martin canal and the public granaries. A platform was put up at the entrance to the bridge of Austerlitz; from it the farewell orations were to be given. After these were pronounced, the body of General Lamarque continued its route towards the département des Landes, where it was to be interred, whilst the procession returned to Paris.
It was after three o'clock in the afternoon; I had had nothing since the previous night, except the cup of chocolate from my friend Hiraux: I was literally dropping from exhaustion. The speeches bade fair to be long, and, naturally, tedious; so I proposed to two or three of the artillerymen to come and dine at theGros Marronniers,and they accepted.
"Will anything happen?" I asked Bastide before I went off.
"I think not," he said, looking round him, "and yet, do not be deceived, the 29 July is in the air."
"In any case, I shall not go far away," I said, and I went.
"Are you going away?" Étienne Arago said to me.
"I will return in a quarter of an hour."
"Make haste, if you wish to take part!"
"How can I, I have neither rifle nor cartridges?"
"You must do as I have done, put pistols in your pockets."
He showed me the butt-end of a pistol sticking out of his pocket.
"Diable!" I exclaimed, "if I thought anything would happen I would dispense with dinner!"
"Oh! don't be anxious, if there is anything it will last long enough for you to come back before dessert."
That was probable, so we went off without scruples. I was so weak that I was obliged to lean on the arm of my two companions, and I very nearly fainted before entering the restaurant. They made me drink iced water and I revived. Everything was topsy-turvy, and we had great difficulty in getting waited on. We were engrossed in a huge fish-pie, the main dish always served in a dinnerà la Râpée,when we heard a volley of firing, but so peculiar in sound that we never doubted but that it was the discharge over the hearse in honour of the illustrious dead.
"To the memory of General Lamarque!" I said, raising my glass.
My two companions pledged me. Then we heard four or five single shots.
"Oh! oh!" I exclaimed, "that is another tale altogether! Those shots sound like sport."
I ran on to the quay, where I climbed up on a railing. Nothing could be made out except that there was a great commotion about the pont d'Austerlitz.
"Pay quick and come and see what that music is," I said to my two companions.
We flung 10 francs on the table; but, as the firing increased, we did not ask for our change, we started running towards the barrier. The sound of firing had given me back my strength. When we reached the barrier, we found it guarded by men in blouses who, on perceiving us, shouted, "Vivent les artilleurs!" We ran up to them.
"What has been happening?" we asked.
"Only that they are firing on the people, and the artillery has returned the fire; père Louis-Philippe is at his last gasp and the Republic is proclaimed.Vive la République!"
We looked at one another. The triumph seemed to us too complete for the short time it had taken to happen in. But this is what had actually happened, and the stage things had reached. I said that, as we left, they were about to begin the orations. Banners of every nation had been taken up on to the platform—Polish, Italian, Spanish and Portuguese waved their standards of every colour above the catafalque, and amongst them was the flag of the German Union seen floating for the first time, black and red and gold.
General La Fayette had begun by saying a few lofty, calm and serene words, in keeping with the grand old man who uttered them; then came Mauguin, less restrained; Clausel, more military; then the Portuguese General Saldanha. Whilst the orators were speaking, the young men went from group to group disseminating news, such as: "They are fighting at the Hôtel de Ville!" or, "A general has just declared himself against Louis-Philippe Others, "The troops have revolted!" or, "They are marching upon the Tuileries!" No one believed such rumours seriously, and yet they warmed and stirred people's spirits and hearts. After our battery had passed through the boulevard, it took up its position near the platform. There were gathered Étienne Arago, Guinard, Savary, corresponding by means of signs with Bastide and Thomas, who were on the boulevard Bourdon. In the middle of General Saldanha's speech, attention seemed suddenly distracted; cries, commotion and rumours drew all eyes towards the boulevards. A man clad in black, tall, thin and as pale as a ghost, with dark moustaches, holding in his hand a red flag edged with black fringe, and mounted upon a horse which he haddifficulty in steering through the crowd, waved his blood-coloured flag, on which was written in black letters—
"LIBERTY OR DEATH!"
Where did the man come from? Neither at the trial or sentence was this told. All that was known was that his name was Jean-Baptiste Peyron, and that he came from the Basses-Alpes. He was condemned toONE MONTH'Simprisonment. We none of us knew him. Was he excited, as he said himself, by a feeling of enthusiasm bordering on madness? Was he a seditious agent? The mystery has never been elucidated. But, wherever he came from and whatever the motive by which he was animated, his appearance was greeted with unanimous disapproval. General Exelmans shouted in a voice which dominated every other—
"Not the red flag! the flag of terror; we only want the tricolour, which is that of glory and liberty."
Two men then sprang on General Exelmans, and tried to drag him towards the canal. It was never known who they were. He shook them off and came across to the Comte de Flahaut.
"What is to be done?" General Exelmans asked.
"Run to the Tuileries and warn the king of what is going on."
They both rushed off to the Tuileries. At that moment, two young men unharnessed General La Fayette's carriage and led it towards the Hôtel de Ville. Simultaneously, and as though the impulse had been associated with the appearance of the man with the red flag, a column of dragoons came out of the Célestins barracks. M. Gisquet had sent the order, which ought to have been given by General Pajol, Commander of the First Military Division. The appearance of the dragoons, which at first, however, meant nothing hostile, as their pistols were in their holsters and their rifles hung at their saddlebows, yet produced a certain amount of commotion along theboulevard Bourdon. Étienne Arago saw the effect and leant over towards Guinard's ear.
"I think it is time to begin," he said.
"Begin!" Guinard answered, laconically.
Arago did not wait to hear it twice; he rushed on to the platform. A student had followed after General Saldanha; Arago took his place and shouted—
"We have had enough of that kind of speech! Few words are needed and they areVive la République!It was to that cry General Lamarque began his military career, it is to that cry we should follow his remains.Vive la République!Follow me, those who agree with me!"
Not one word of the allocution was lost; scarcely was it seen that a lieutenant of the artillery was going to speak before everybody kept silence. Besides, the name of Arago, which was very popular, had circulated in a whisper below the tremendous shout of "Vive la République!"
At the last words of his speech, Arago took possession of one of the flags from the platform, and, flag in hand, with Guinard and Savary by his side, he rushed to our battery. But, in the commotion which had followed the speech, the crowd had broken the ranks of the artillerymen in such a way that the three leaders, followed only by about thirty men, had disappeared from the sight of their other companions. At this moment, some shots were heard in the boulevard Bourdon.
Let us follow the fortunes of Arago, Guinard and Savary; we will return presently to the other portion of the struggle.
The artillerymen—Carrel andle National—Barricades of the boulevard Bourdon and in the rue de Ménilmontant—The carriage of General La Fayette—A bad shot from my friends—Despair of Harel—The pistols inRichard—The women are against us—I distribute arms to the insurgents—Change of uniform—The meeting at Laffitte's—Progress of the insurrection—M. Thiers—Barricade Saint-Merry—Jeanne—Rossignol—Barricade of the passage du Saumon—Morning of 6 June
The artillerymen—Carrel andle National—Barricades of the boulevard Bourdon and in the rue de Ménilmontant—The carriage of General La Fayette—A bad shot from my friends—Despair of Harel—The pistols inRichard—The women are against us—I distribute arms to the insurgents—Change of uniform—The meeting at Laffitte's—Progress of the insurrection—M. Thiers—Barricade Saint-Merry—Jeanne—Rossignol—Barricade of the passage du Saumon—Morning of 6 June
The group of artillerymen who guided the three leaders we have just mentioned went down at double quick pace, shouting, "Vive la République!" along the right bank of the canal. Some fled before them, others rallied round; there was a frightful tumult. At the place de la Bastille they rejoined the 12th Light; after what the officer had said they were sure of these. So the soldiers let the artillery go by. The major saluted them and nodded his approval. At the boulevard Saint-Antoine, a cuirassier, whose name I have forgotten, joined the artillerymen. There was a cuirassier on 5 June as there was a fireman on 15 May. When the cuirassier reached the guardhouse of the boulevard, at the corner of the rue de Ménilmontant, he rushed into the guardroom, sword in hand; the people followed him. In an instant, the guardhouse was taken and the soldiers disarmed. They continued along the boulevard to shouts of "Vive la République!" cries which were almost everywhere received with cheers. At the top of the rue de Lancry, they met Carrel on horseback. He came, like a general, to find out the state of things for himself.
"Have you a regiment with you?" he asked.
"We have them all with us!" he was told.
"That is too much; I only want one," he said, laughing, as he resumed at a gallop his way along the Bastille road. The artillerymen took the rue Bourbon-Villeneuve. At sight of them, the guard at the Bank ran for their rifles, but, to the great astonishment of the insurgents, they presented arms. They could not, however, go through the whole of Paris in this fashion; they were a few yards from the Vaudeville, where they deposited the flag; they rapidly ate a few bites of food and made for theNational,in the rue du Croissant. The Republicans flocked there, and, in the midst of them, men who held intermediary opinions, like Hippolyte Royer-Collard, for example. Meanwhile Carrel arrived, and his opinion was awaited impatiently.
"I have not great faith in the barricade," he said; "we succeeded in 1830 by an accident. Those who are of different opinion from me may move the paving-stones. I shall not persuade them to do it, nor shall I disapprove; but, in savingle Nationaland in preventing them from compromising it as a newspaper, I shall keep a bodyguard round until to-morrow. Believe me, it takes more courage to say to my friends what I am saying than to attempt with them that in which they are going to engage."
As Carrel uttered these words, Thomas arrived from the boulevard Bourdon.
"There is nothing for us to do here," said Thomas; "let us go away!"
At the same instant, the enthusiasts came out from theNationaloffices and went to consult together at Ambert's, in the rue Godot-de-Mauroy.
We will now relate what had happened in the boulevard Bourdon, from whence Thomas had come. As we said before, the dragoons had issued from the Célestins barracks and, after advancing rapidly, had stopped two hundredyards from the bridge. The multitude confronted them in terror. At this moment, the carriage of General La Fayette came out of the crowd drawn by young men. Those who marched before it shouted, "Make room for La Fayette!" The dragoons opened their ranks to let the general and the youths and the carriage pass. Scarcely had the general gone by before several shots rang out. Who fired those shots? Impossible to state, we did not ourselves know. It is the eternal question which history puts over and over again, without truth ever being able to formulate a reply; it was the enigma of 10 August, of 5 June and of 24 February. Instantly, the dragoons were beaten down with stones; children slipped even underneath the horses' bodies and ripped up the animals under the men. The conduct of the dragoons and of their commandant, M. Dessolier, was admirable; they sustained everything without either charging or firing. The attack was to come from another side. A sub-officer was despatched at a gallop to tell the colonel, who remained in the Célestins. The sub-officer reported, and the colonel decided not only to extricate his men by making a diversion, but, better still, to catch the insurgents between two fires. He came at the head of a second detachment, which, with trumpeters at its head, issued forth from the place de l'Arsénal. But scarcely had it proceeded a hundred yards before a discharge of musketry burst forth and two dragoons fell. Then the dragoons broke into a gallop, and, to avenge themselves for the attempted fusillade, charged the crowd along the boulevard Bourdon. A second discharge went off and Commandant Cholet fell dead. Then resounded the cry, "To arms!" Bastide and Thomas were at the opposite end of the boulevard Bourdon. They had not begun the attack, but, on the contrary, were attacked. They resolved not to recede by a single yard. A barricade was put up in a few minutes. It was defended by three principal leaders, Bastide, Thomas and Séchan. A dozen of the students of theÉcole Polytechnique, a score of artillerymen and as many more of the populace rallied round them.
As though his tall figure did not run double the danger of the other, Thomas mounted on top of the barricade; Séchan took hold of him from behind, put his arms round him and made him come down. They kept their position unmoved. The firing came from the Arsenal, from the pavillon de Sully, and from the public granaries all at the same time. The colonel of dragoons had had his horse killed under him; the lieutenant was mortally wounded. A bullet had just hit Captain Briqueville. The order to retire was given to the dragoons who doubled back along the rues de la Cerisaie and Petit-Musc. The barricade was cleared; it was futile to continue the struggle on the outskirts of Paris; it was in the heart of it that fires must be lit. Thomas, Bastide and Séchan flew along the boulevard Contrescarpe and re-entered Paris, shouting: "To arms!" Thomas ran to confer with theNational.Bastide, Séchan, Dussart, Pescheux d'Herbinville, erected a barricade across the entrance to the rue de Ménilmontant, where Bastide and Thomas lived, and had a shed full of wood for burning. Meanwhile, the students, the pupils of the École and the populace had taken possession of the hearse. Shouts of "To the Panthéon" were heard.
"Yes! yes! to the Panthéon," all voices repeated.
The hearse was drawn up before the Panthéon. The municipal cavalry barred the way. It was attacked and offered resistance, but was driven back towards the barrière d'Enfer. Two squadrons of carabiniers came to its aid, and, thanks to this reinforcement, it kept the mastery of the convoy. The insurgents dispersed down the faubourg Saint-Germain, shouting: "To arms!"
Paris was on fire from the barrière d'Enfer to the rue de Ménilmontant. Meanwhile, the young men who had taken out La Fayette's horses and were drawing his carriage heard the firing and cries of "Aux armes!" and the fusilade which increased on all sides. They were tired ofremaining inactive. The person sitting on the back seat leant forward towards the person on the seat opposite.
"An idea!" he said.
"What is it?"
"Suppose we fling General La Fayette into the river and say that Louis-Philippe has drowned him?..."
The youths began to laugh—fortunately, it was merely a joke. That evening, at Laffitte's, the noble old man related the anecdote to me.
"Ah! ah!" he said, "after all it was not a bad idea, and I do not know whether I should have had the courage to oppose it, supposing they had tried to put it into execution."
To this state, then, had Paris reached when we appeared at the barrière de Bercy, and when the populace, on guard, informed us that Louis-Philippe was at his last gasp and that the Republic was proclaimed. We went along the boulevard Contrescarpe in hot haste. At the place de la Bastille we found the 12th Light, who let us pass. The boulevards were nearly deserted. When we got to the rue de Ménilmontant I saw a barricade; it was guarded by a single artillery-man. I went up to him and recognised Séchan, rifle on shoulder—the same rifle of which I have already spoken in connection with the famous night at the Louvre. I stopped; I knew nothing positively, so I asked him for news and begged him to explain why he was alone. The rest were famished with hunger and were eating a hasty meal in Bastide's woodshed. They must run at the first sound of firing. I learnt from Séchan what had passed in the boulevard Bourdon and I went on my way. My two companions of the route rushed down the rue de Bondy; I followed the boulevard. It was intersected at the top of the street and the faubourg Saint-Martin by a detachment of the line; the men were drawn up in three rows. I was asking myself how I could go through that triple line alone, in my hostile uniform, when I discovered among the ranksan old battery comrade. True, I nearly fought a duel with him at the time over a difference of opinion. He was dressed in a round jacket, a policeman's helmet and a pair of the buttoned knickerbockers called charivaris. He had a double-barrelled gun in his hand, and had joined the troops as an amateur. Having recognised him, I thought I might feel easy and continued to advance, making signs with my hand. He lowered his gun. I thought he had recognised me, and was joking or wanted to frighten me, so I still went forward. Suddenly, he disappeared in a cloud of fire and smoke and a bullet whistled in my ears. I saw things were serious. I was by the café de la Porte-Saint-Martin. I wanted to run into the theatre passage, but it was closed. I thrust the door of the theatre open with one kick. The fourth or fifth performance ofLa Tour de Neslewas put up on the bills. I ran to the property stores. I came across Harel on the stage. He tore his hair at seeing his successful run interrupted. As he perceived that I was turning away from him, he said, "Where are you going?"
"To the property stores."
"What do you want there?"
"Have you such a thing as a rifle?"
"Pardieu!I have a hundred. You know very well we have just been playing ... that is to say, unfortunately not I, but Crosmer ...Napoléon à Schönbrünn."
"All right, I want a rifle."
"What for?"
"To return one of my friends a bullet he has just sent at me. Only, I hope to be more adroit than he was."
"Oh! my friend!" exclaimed Harel, "you are going to get the theatre burnt down!" And he placed himself in front of the door leading to the property stores.
"Pardon, my friend," I said to him, "I will give up the rifles as they are yours; but give me the pistols that I presented for the second representation ofRichard: notonly are they valuable ones but, also, they were a present."
"Hide the pistols!" cried Harel to the man who had charge of the properties.
They hid them so well that I never saw them again. Furious, I went up to the second storey. Through the small windows of the theatre, forming a long square, I could see all that was happening on the boulevard. The soldiers were still at their post, and my friend—the man with the double-barrelled gun, policeman's helmet and charivari—was with them yet. I was mad that I had not even the smallest pea-shooter. Whilst I was looking through this aperture, so narrow that it permitted me to see without being seen, an act of great signification was taking place opposite the theatre. A dragoon rushed up at full speed, bringing an order. A child was hidden behind a tree on the boulevard with a stone in his hand. Just as the dragoon passed by, the child hurled the stone and it struck the soldier's helmet. The dragoon hesitated, but did not stop to pursue the child, and went his way at full gallop. But a woman—the child's mother, probably—came out stealthily behind him, seized him by the collar and gave him a good hiding. I lowered my head.
"The women are not with us this time," I said; "we are lost!"
At that moment, I heard Harel calling me in a pitiful voice. I went down. By the door which I had burst open in order to get into the theatre, a score of men had entered and were demanding arms. They, too, had bethought themselves ofNapoleon à Schönbrünn.Harel already saw his theatre being pillaged from top to bottom, and called me to help him, relying on my name, already popular, and upon my uniform as an artillery-man. I went and faced the crowd, which stopped when it caught sight of me.
"Friends," I said to them, "you are honest men."
One of them recognised me.
"Stop," he said, "it is M. Dumas, the commissioner of the artillerymen."
"Precisely; so you see we can understand one another." "Why, yes! since you are on our side."
"Then listen to me, I beg."
"We will."
"You do not want to ruin a man who is of your own opinions, an exile of 1815, a prefect of the Empire?"
"We? we only want arms."
"Very well, then, M. Harel, the manager, was prefect during the Hundred Days and was exiled by the Bourbons in 1815."
"ThenVive M. Harel!...Let him give us his rifles and put himself at our head."
"A manager of a theatre is not master of his opinions; he is dependent on the Government."
"If he will let us take his rifles we will not ask anything further from him."
"Be patient and we shall have them! But I will give them to you."
"Bravo!"
"How many of you are there?"
"About a score."
"Harel, have twenty rifles brought out, my friend." Then, turning towards the good fellows, I said—
"You must understand clearly that it is I, M. Alexandre Dumas, who lend you these guns; those who get killed I will not bother, but those who survive shall bring back their arms. Is that agreed to?"
"On our word of honour!"
"Here are twenty rifles."
"Thanks!"
"That is not all; you must write upon the doors:No arms left!"
"Who has got any chalk?"
"I will call the head carpenter. Darnault, a piece of chalk!"
"Here it is."
"Go and write!" I said to my men.
And one of them, rifle in hand, in sight of the detachment of the Line, went and wrote on the three doors of the theatre, "No arms left," and signed it.