“Mercy on us, no!” groaned the delegate. “Oh, Mr Albert, whoever you are, do take us out of this place, or I am sure I shall lose my reason! If you want my watch, say so at once, and, upon my word, you are heartily welcome.”
“Harkye, sirrah,” said Monsieur Albert: “I have more than half a mind to leave you here all night for your consummate impertinence. I knew you from the very first to be a thorough poltroon; but I shall find a proper means of chastising you. Come along, sir; we are past the lane now, and at a place where your hands may be better employed for the liberties of the people than your head ever was in inventing task-work at home.”
We now emerged into an open court, lighted by a solitary lamp. It was apparently deserted, but on a low whistle from Monsieur Albert, some twenty or thirty individuals in blouses rushed forth from the doorways and surrounded us. I own I did not feel remarkably comfortable at the moment; for although it was clear to me that our guide had merely been amusing himself at the expense of Bagsby, the apparition of his confederates was rather sudden and startling. As for Bagsby, he evidently expected no better fate than an immediate conduct to the block.
“You come late,mon capitaine,” said a bloused veteran, armed with a mattock. “They have the start of us already in the Rue des Petits Champs.”
“Never mind,grognard! we are early enough for the ball,” said M. Albert. “Have you everything ready as I desired?”
“All ready—spades, levers, pickaxes, and the rest.”
“Arms?”
“Enough to serve our purpose, and we shall soon have more. But who are these with you?”
“Fraternisers—two bold Englishmen, who are ready to die for freedom!”
“Vivent les Anglais, et à bas les tyrans!” shouted the blouses.
“This citizen,” continued Albert, indicating the unhappy Bagsby, “is a Cobdenist and a delegate. He has sworn to remain at the barricades until the last shot is fired, and to plant the red banner of the emancipated people upon its summit. His soul is thirsting for fraternity. Brothers! open to him your arms.”
Hereupon a regular scramble took place for the carcass of Mr Hutton Bagsby. Never surely was so much love lavished upon any human creature. Patriot after patriot bestowed on him the full-flavoured hug of fraternity, and he emerged from their grasp very much in the tattered condition of a scarecrow.
“Give the citizen delegate a blouse and a pickaxe,” quoth Albert, “and then for the barricade. You have your orders—execute them. Up with the pavement, down with the trees; fling over every omnibus and cab that comes in your way, and fight to the last drop of your blood for France and her freedom. Away!”
With a tremendous shout the patriots rushed off, hurrying Bagsby along with them. The unfortunate man offered no resistance, but the agony depicted on his face might have melted the heart of a millstone.
Albert remained silent until the group were out of sight, and then burst into a peal of laughter.
“That little man,” said he, “will gather some useful experiences to-night that may last him as long as he lives. As for you, Mr Dunshunner, whose name and person are well known to me, I presume you have no ambition to engage in any such architectural constructions?”
I modestly acknowledged my aversion to practical masonry.
“Well, then,” said the ouvrier, “I suppose you are perfectly competent to take care of yourself. There will be good fun in the streets, if you choose to run the risk of seeing it; at the same time there is safety in stone walls. ’Gad, I think this will astonish plain John! There’s nothing like it in hisLives of the Chancellors. I don’t want, however,to see our friend the delegate absolutely sacrificed. Will you do me the favour to inquire for him to-morrow at the barricade down there? I will answer for it that he does not make his escape before then; and now for Ledru Rollin!”
With these words, and a friendly nod, the eccentric artisan departed, at a pace which showed how little his activity had been impaired by years. Filled with painful and conflicting thoughts, I followed the course of another street which led me to the Rue Rivoli.
Here I had a capital opportunity of witnessing the progress of the revolution. The street was crowded with the people shouting, yelling, and huzzaing; and a large body of the National Guard, drawn up immediately in front of me, seemed to be in high favour. Indeed, I was not surprised at this, on discovering that the officer in command was no less a person than my illustrious friend De la Pailleterie. He looked as warlike as a Lybian lion, though it was impossible to comprehend what particular section of the community were the objects of his sublime anger. Indeed, it was rather difficult to know what the gentlemen in blouses wanted. Some were shouting for reform, as if that were a tangible article which could be handed them from a window; others demanded the abdication of ministers—rather unreasonably, I thought, since at that moment there was no vestige of a ministry inFrance; whilst the most practical section of the mob was clamorous for the head of Guizot. Presently the shakos and bright bayonets of a large detachment of infantry were seen approaching, amidst vehement cries of “Vive la Ligne!” They marched up to the National Guard, who still maintained their ranks. The leading officer looked puzzled.
“Who are these?” he said, pointing with his sword to the Guard.
“I have the honour to inform Monsieur,” said Monte-Christo, stepping forward, “that these are the second legion of the National Guard!”
“Vive la Garde Nationale!” cried the officer.
“Vive la Ligne!” reciprocated the Marquis.
Both gentlemen then saluted, and interchanged snuff-boxes, amidst tremendous cheering from the populace.
“And who are these?” continued the officer, pointing to the blouses on the pavement.
“These are the people,” replied Monte-Christo.
“They must disperse. My orders are peremptory,” said the regular.
“The National Guard will protect them. Monsieur, respect the people!”
“They must disperse,” repeated the officer.
“They shall not,” replied Monte-Christo.
The moment was critical.
“In that case,” replied the officer, after a pause,“I shall best fulfil my duty by wishing Monsieur a good evening.”
“You are a brave fellow!” cried the Marquis, sheathing his sabre; and in a moment the warriors were locked in a brotherly embrace.
The effect was electric and instantaneous. “Let us all fraternise!” was the cry; and regulars, nationals, and blouses, rushed into each others’ arms. The union was complete. Jacob and Esau coalesced without the formality of an explanation. Ammunition was handed over by the troops without the slightest scruple, and in return many bottles ofvin ordinairewere produced for the refreshment of the military. No man who witnessed that scene could have any doubt as to the final result of the movement.
Presently, however, a smart fusillade was heard to the right. The cry arose, “They are assassinating the people! to the barricades! to the barricades!” and the whole multitude swept vehemently forward towards the place of contest. Unfortunately, in my anxiety to behold the rencontre in which my friend bore so distinguished a part, I had pressed a little further forwards than was prudent, and I now found myself in the midst of an infuriated gang of workmen, and urged irresistibly onwards to the nearest barricade.
“Thou hast no arms, comrade!” cried a gigantic butcher, who strode beside me armed with an enormousaxe; “here—take this;” and he thrust a sabre into my hand; “take this, and strike home forla Patrie!”
I muttered my acknowledgments for the gift, and tried to look as like a patriot as possible.
“Tête de Robespierre!” cried another. “This is better than paying taxes!À bas la Garde Municipale! à bas tous les tyrans!”
“Tête de Brissot!” exclaimed I, in return, thinking it no unwise plan to invoke the Manes of some of the earlier heroes. This was a slight mistake.
“Quoi? Girondin?” cried the butcher, with a ferocious scowl.
“Non; corps de Marat!” I shouted.
“Bon! embrasse-moi donc, camarade!” said the butcher, and so we reached the barricade.
Here the game was going on in earnest. The barricade had been thrown up hastily and imperfectly, and a considerable body of the Municipal Guard—who, by the way, behaved throughout with much intrepidity—was attempting to dislodge the rioters. In fact, they had almost succeeded. Some ten of the insurgents, who were perched upon the top of the pile, had been shot down, and no one seemed anxious to supply their place on that bad eminence. In vain my friend the butcher waved his axe, and shouted, “En avant!” A considerable number of voices, indeed, took up the cry, but a remarkable reluctance was exhibited in setting thesalutary example. A few minutes more, and the passage would have been cleared; when all of a sudden, from the interior of a cabriolet, which formed a sort of parapet to the embankment, emerged a ghastly figure, streaming with gore, and grasping thedrapeau rouge. I never was more petrified in my life—there could be no doubt of the man—it was Hutton Bagsby!
For a moment he stood gazing upon the tossing multitude beneath. There was a brief pause, and even the soldiers, awed by his intrepidity, forbore to fire. At last, however, they raised their muskets; when, with a hoarse scream, Bagsby leaped from the barricade, and alighted uninjured on the street. Had Mars descended in person to lead the insurrection, he could not have done better.
“Ah, le brave Anglais! Ah, le député intrépide! A la rescousse!” was the cry, and a torrent of human beings rushed headlong over the barricade.
No power on earth could have resisted that terrific charge. The Municipal Guards were scattered like chaff before the wind; some were cut down, and others escaped under cover of the ranks of the Nationals. Like the rest, I had leaped the embankment; but not being anxious to distinguish myself in single combat, I paused at the spot where Bagsby had fallen. There I found the illustrious delegate stretched upon the ground, still grasping the glorious colours. I stooped down and examined thebody, but I could discover no wound. The blood that stained his forehead was evidently not his own.
I loosened his neckcloth to give him air, but still there were no signs of animation. A crowd soon gathered around us—the victors were returning from the combat.
“He will never fight more!” said the author of theMysteries of Paris, whom I now recognised among the combatants. “He has led us on for the last time to victory! Alas for the adopted child of France!Un vrai héros! II est mort sur le champ de bataille!Messieurs, I propose that we decree for our departed comrade the honours of a public funeral!”
“How do you feel yourself to-day, Mr Bagsby?” said I, as I entered the apartment of that heroic individual on the following morning; “you made a very close shave of it, I can tell you. Eugène Sue wanted to have you stretched upon a shutter, and carried in procession as a victim through all the streets of Paris.”
“Victim indeed!” replied Bagsby, manipulating the small of his back, “I’ve been quite enough victimised already. Hanged if I don’t get that villainAlbert impeached when I reach England, that’s all! I worked among them with the pickaxe till my arms were nearly broken, and the only thanks I got was to be shot at like a popinjay.”
“Nay, Mr Bagsby, you have covered yourself with glory. Every one says that but for you the barricade would inevitably have been carried.”
“They might have carried it to the infernal regions for aught that I cared,” replied Bagsby. “Catch me fraternising again with any of them; a disreputable set of scoundrels with never a shirt to their back.”
“You forget, my dear sir,” said I: “Mr Cobden is of opinion that they are the most affectionate and domesticated people on the face of the earth.”
“Did Cobden say that?” cried Bagsby: “then he’s a greater humbug than I took him to be, and that is saying not a little. He’ll never get another testimonial out of me, I can tell you. But pray, how did I come here?”
“Why, you were just about to be treated to a public funeral, when very fortunately you exhibited some symptoms of resuscitation, and a couple of hairy patriots carried you to my lodgings. Your exertions had been too much for you. I must confess, Mr Bagsby, I had no idea that you were so bloodthirsty a personage.”
“Me bloodthirsty!” cried Bagsby; “Lord bless you! I am like to faint whenever I cut myself inshaving. Guns and swords are my perfect abomination, and I don’t think I could bring myself to fire at a sparrow.”
“Come, come! you do yourself injustice. I shall never forget the brilliant manner in which you charged down the barricade.”
“All I can tell you is, that I was deucedly glad to hide myself in one of the empty coaches. But when a bullet came splash through the panel within two inches of my ear, I found the place was getting too hot to hold me, and scrambled out. I had covered myself with one of their red rags by way of concealment, and I suppose I brought it out with me. As to jumping down, you will allow it was full time to do that, when fifty fellows were taking a deliberate aim with their guns.”
“You are too modest, Mr Bagsby; and, notwithstanding all your disclaimers, you have gained a niche in history as a hero. But come; this may be a busy day, and it is already late. Do you think you can manage any breakfast?”
“I’ll try,” said Bagsby; and, to do him justice, he did.
Our meal concluded, I proposed a ramble, in order to ascertain the progress of events, of which both of us were thoroughly ignorant. Bagsby, however, was extremely adverse to leaving the house. He had a strong impression that he would be again kidnapped, and pressed into active service; inwhich case he affirmed that he would incontinently give up the ghost.
“Can’t you stay comfortably here,” said he, “and let’s have a little bottled porter? These foreign chaps can surely fight their own battles without you or me; and that leads me to ask if you know the cause of all this disturbance. Hanged if I understand anything about it!”
“I believe it mainly proceeds from the King having forbidden some of the deputies to dine together in public.”
“You don’t say so!” cried Bagsby: “what an old fool he must be! Blowed if I wouldn’t have taken the chair in person, and sent them twelve dozen of champagne to drink my health.”
“Kings, Mr Bagsby, are rarely endowed with a large proportion of such sagacity as yours. But really we must go forth and look a little about us. It is past mid-day, and I cannot hear any firing. You may rely upon it that the contest has been settled in one way or another—either the people have been appeased, or, what is more likely, the troops have sided with them. We must endeavour to obtain some information.”
“You may do as you like,” said Bagsby, “but my mind is made up. I’m off for Havre this blessed afternoon.”
“My dear sir, you cannot. No passports can be obtained just now, and the mob has taken up the railroads.”
“What an idiot I was ever to come here!” groaned Bagsby. “Mercy on me! must I continue in this den of thieves, whether I will or no?”
“I am afraid there is no alternative. But you judge the Parisians too hastily, Mr Bagsby. I perceive they have respected your watch.”
“Ay, but you heard what that chap said about the slaughter-house lane. I declare he almost frightened me into fits. But where are you going?”
“Out, to be sure. If you choose to remain—”
“Not I. Who knows but they may take a fancy to seek for me here, and carry me away again! I won’t part with the only Englishman I know in Paris, though I think it would be more sensible to remain quietly where we are.”
We threw ourselves into the stream of people which was rapidly setting in towards the Tuileries. Great events seemed to have happened, or at all events to be on the eve of completion. The troops were nowhere to be seen. They had vanished from the city like magic.
“Bon jour, Citoyen Bagsby,” said a harsh voice, immediately behind us. “I hear high accounts of your valour yesterday at the barricades. Allow me to congratulate you on your first revolutionary experiment.”
I turned round, and encountered the sarcastic smile of M. Albert the ouvrier. He was rather better dressed than on the previous evening, andhad a tricolored sash bound around his waist. With him was a crowd of persons evidently in attendance.
“Should you like, Mr Bagsby, to enter the service of the Republic? for such, I have the honour to inform you, France is now,” continued the ouvrier. “We shall need a few practical heads—”
“Oh dear! I knew what it would all come to!” groaned Bagsby.
“Don’t misapprehend me—I mean heads to assist us in our new commercial arrangements. Now, as free-trade has succeeded so remarkably well in Britain, perhaps you would not object to communicate some of your experiences to M. Crémieux, who is now my colleague?”
“Your colleague, M. Albert?” said I.
“Exactly so. I have the honour to be one of the members of the Provisional Government of France.”
“Am I in my senses or not?” muttered Bagsby. “Oh, sir, whoever you are, do be a good fellow for once, and let me get home! I promise you, I shall not say a word about this business on the other side of the Channel.”
“Far be it from me to lay any restraint upon your freedom of speech, Mr Bagsby. So, then, I conclude you refuse? Well, be it so. After all, I daresay Crémieux will get on very well without you.”
“But pray, M. Albert—one word,” said I. “You mentioned a republic—”
“I did. It has been established for an hour. Louis Philippe has abdicated, and in all probability is by this time half a league beyond the barrier. The Duchess of Orleans came down with her son to the Chamber of Deputies, and I really believe there would have been a regency; for the gallantry of France was moved, and Barrot was determined on the point. Little Ledru Rollin, however, saved us from half measures. Rollin is a clever fellow, with the soul of a Robespierre; and, seeing how matters were likely to go, he quietly slipped to the door, and admitted a select number of our friends from the barricades. That put a stop to the talking. You have no idea how quiet gentlemen become in the presence of a mob with loaded muskets. Their hearts failed them; the deputies gradually withdrew, and a republic was proclaimed by the sovereign will of the people. I am just on my way to the Hôtel de Ville, to assist in consolidating the government.”
“Bon voyage, M. Albert!”
“Oh, we shall do it, sure enough! But here we are near the Tuileries. Perhaps, gentlemen, you would like to enjoy the amusements which are going on yonder, and to drink prosperity to the new Republic in a glass of Louis Philippe’s old Clos Vougeot. If so, do not let me detain you. Adieu!” And, with a spasmodic twitch of his nose, the eccentric ouvrier departed.
“Well! what things one does see abroad, to be sure!” said Bagsby: “I recollect him quite well at the time of the Reform Bill—”
“Hush, my dear Bagsby!” said I, “this is not the moment nor the place for any reminiscences of the kind.”
Certainly the aspect of what was going forward in front of the Tuileries was enough to drive all minor memories from the head of any man. A huge bonfire was blazing in the midst of the Square opposite the Place du Carrousel, and several thousands of the populace were dancing round it like demons. It was fed by the royal carriages, the furniture of the state-rooms, and every combustible article which could in any way be identified with the fallen dynasty. The windows of the palace were flung open, and hangings, curtains, and tapestries of silk and golden tissue, were pitched into the square amidst shouts of glee that would have broken the heart of an upholsterer. It was the utter recklessness of destruction. Yet, with all this, there was a certain appearance of honesty preserved. The people might destroy to any amount they pleased, but they were not permitted to appropriate. The man who smashed a mirror or shattered a costly vase into flinders was a patriot,—he who helped himself to an inkstand was denounced as an ignominious thief. I saw one poor devil, whose famished appearance bore miserable testimonyto his poverty, arrested and searched; a pair of paste buckles was found upon him, and he was immediately conducted to the gardens, and shot by a couple of gentlemen who, five minutes before, had deliberately slit some valuable pictures into ribbons! Every moment the crowd was receiving accession from without, and the bonfire materials from within. At last, amidst tremendous acclamations, the throne itself was catapulted into the square, and the last symbol of royalty reduced to a heap of ashes.
The whole scene was so extremely uninviting that I regretted having come so far, and suggested to Bagsby the propriety of an immediate retreat. This, however, was not so easy. Several of the citizens who were now dancing democratic polkas round the embers, had been very active partisans at the barricade on the evening before, and, as ill-luck would have it, recognised their revivified champion.
“Trois mille rognons!” exclaimed my revolutionary friend the butcher; “here’s the brave little Englishman that led us on so gallantly against the Municipal Guard! How is it with thee, my fire-eater, my stout swallower of bullets? Art thou sad that there is no more work for thee to do? Cheer up, citizen! we shall be at the frontiers before long; and then who knows but the Republic may reward thee with the baton of a marshal of France!”
“Plus de maréchaux!” cried a truculent chiffonier, who was truculently picking a marrow-bone with his knife. “Such fellows are worth nothing except to betray the people. I waited to have a shot at old Soult yesterday, but the rascal would not show face!”
“Never mind him, citizen,” said the butcher, “we all know Père Pomme-de-terre. But thou lookest pale! Art thirsty? Come with me, and I will show thee where old Macaire keeps his cellar. France will not grudge a flask to so brave a patriot as thyself.”
“Ay, ay! to the cellar—to the cellar!” exclaimed some fifty voices.
“Silence, mes enfants!” cried the butcher, who evidently had already reconnoitred the interior of the subterranean vaults. “Let us do all things in order. As Citizen Lamartine remarked, let virtue go hand in hand with liberty, and let us apply ourselves seriously to the consummation of this great work. We have now an opportunity of fraternising with the world. We see amongst us an Englishman who last night devoted his tremendous energies to France. We thought he had fallen, and were about to give him public honours. Let us not be more unmindful of the living than the dead. Here he stands, and I now propose that he be carried on the shoulders of the people to the royal—peste!—I mean the republican cellar, and that wethere drink to the confusion of all rank, and the union of all nations in the bonds of universal brotherhood!”
“Agreed! agreed!” shouted the mob; and for the second time Bagsby underwent the ceremony of entire fraternisation. He was then hoisted upon the shoulders of some half-dozen patriots, notwithstanding a melancholy howl, by which he intended to express disapprobation of the whole proceeding. I was pressed into the service as interpreter, and took care to attribute his disclaimer solely to an excess of modesty.
“Thou also wert at the barricade last night,” said the butcher. “Thou, too, hast struck a blow for France. Come along. Let us cement with wine the fraternity that originated in blood!”
So saying, he laid hold of my arm, and we all rushed towards the Tuileries. I would have given a trifle to have been lodged at that moment in the filthiest tenement of the Cowcaddens; but anything like resistance was of course utterly out of the question. In we thronged, a tumultuous rabble of men and women, through the portal of the Kings of France, across the halls, and along the galleries, all of them bearing already lamentable marks of violence, outrage, and desecration. Here was a picture of Louis Philippe, a masterpiece by Horace Vernet, literally riddled with balls; there a statue of some prince, decapitated by the blow of a hammer;and in another place the fragments of a magnificent vase, which had been the gift of an emperor. Crowds of people were sitting or lying in the state apartments, eating, drinking, smoking, and singing obscene ditties, or wantonly but deliberately pursuing the work of dismemberment. And but a few hours before, this had been the palace of the King of the Barricades!
Down we went to the cellars, which by this time were tolerably clear, as most of the previous visitors had preferred the plan of enjoying the abstracted fluid in the upper and loftier apartments. But such was not the view of Monsieur Destripes the butcher, or of his friend Pomme-de-terre. These experienced bacchanals preferred remaining at headquarters, on the principle that theséanceought to be declared permanent. Bagsby, as the individual least competent to enforce order, was called to the chair, and seated upon a kilderkin of Bordeaux, with a spigot as the emblem of authority. Then began a scene of brutal and undisguised revelry. Casks were tapped for a single sample, and their contents allowed to run out in streams upon the floor. Bottles were smashed in consequence of the exceeding scarcity of cork-screws, and the finest vintage of the Côte d’Or and of Champagne were poured like water down throats hitherto unconscious of any such generous beverage.
I need not dwell upon what followed—indeed Icould not possibly do justice to the eloquence of M. Pomme-de-terre, or the accomplishments of severalpoissardes, who had accompanied us in our expedition, and now favoured us with sundry erotic ditties, popular in the Faubourg St Antoine. With these ladies Bagsby seemed very popular; indeed, they had formed themselves into a sort of body-guard around his person.
Sick of the whole scene, I availed myself of the first opportunity to escape from that tainted atmosphere; and, after traversing most of the state apartments and several corridors, I found myself in a part of the palace which had evidently been occupied by some of those who were now fleeing as exiles towards a foreign land. The hand of the spoiler also had been here, but he was gone. It was a miserable thing to witness the desolation of these apartments. The bed whereon a princess had lain the night before, was now tossed and tumbled by some rude ruffian, the curtains were torn down, the gardes-de-robe broken open, and a hundred articles of female apparel and luxury were scattered carelessly upon the floor. The setting sun of February gleamed through the broken windows, and rendered the heartless work of spoliation more distinct and apparent. I picked up one handkerchief, still wet, it might be with tears, and on the corner of it was embroidered a royal cypher.
I, who was not an insurgent, almost felt that, inpenetrating through these rooms, I was doing violence to the sanctity of misfortune. Where, on the coming night, might rest the head of her who, a few hours before, had lain upon that pillow of down? For the shelter of what obscure and stifling hut might she be forced to exchange the noble ceiling of a palace? This much I had gathered, that all the royal family had not succeeded in making their escape. Some of the ladies had been seen, with no protectors by their side, shrieking in the midst of the crowd; but the cry of woe was that day too general to attract attention, and it seemed that the older chivalry of France had passed away. Where was the husband at the hour when the wife was struggling in that rout of terror?
I turned into a side-passage, and opened another door. It was a small room which apparently had escaped observation. Everything here bore token of the purity of feminine taste. The little bed was untouched: there were flowers in the window, a breviary upon the table, and a crucifix suspended on the wall. The poor young inmate of this place had been also summoned from her sanctuary, never more to enter it again. As I came in, a little bird in a cage raised a loud twittering, and began to beat itself against the wires. The seed-box was empty, and the last drop of water had been finished. In a revolution such as this, it is the fate of favourites to be neglected.
The poor thing was perishing of hunger. I had no food to give it, but I opened the cage and the window, and set it free. With a shrill note of joy, it darted off to the trees, happier than its mistress, now thrown upon the mercy of a rude and selfish world. I looked down upon the scene beneath. The river was flowing tranquilly to the sea; the first breezes of spring were moving through the trees, just beginning to burgeon and expand; the sun was sinking amidst the golden clouds tranquilly—no sign in heaven or earth betokened that on that day a mighty monarchy had fallen. The roar of Paris was hushed; the work of desolation was over; and on the morrow, its first day would dawn upon the infant Republic.
“May Heaven shelter the unfortunate!” I exclaimed; “and may my native land be long preserved from the visitation of a calamity like this!”
I awoke upon the morrow impressed with that strange sensation which is so apt to occur after the first night’s repose in a new and unfamiliar locality. I could not for some time remember where I was. The events of the two last days beset me like the recollections of an unhealthy dream, produced bythe agency of opiates; and it was with difficulty I could persuade myself that I had passed the night beneath the roof of the famous Tuileries.
“After all,” thought I, “the event may be an interesting, but it is by no means an unusual one, in this transitory world of ours. Louis XVI., Napoleon, Charles X., Louis Philippe, and Dunshunner, have by turns occupied the palace, and none of them have had the good fortune to leave it in perpetuity to their issue. Since abdication is the order of the day, I shall even follow the example of my royal predecessors, and bolt with as much expedition as possible; for, to say the truth, I am getting tired of this turmoil, and I think, with Sir Kenneth of Scotland, that the waters of the Clyde would sound pleasant and grateful in mine ear.”
A very slight toilet sufficed for the occasion, and I sallied forth with the full intention of making my immediate escape. This was not so easy. I encountered no one in the corridors, but as I opened the door of the Salle des Trophées, a din of many voices burst upon my ears. A number of persons occupied the hall, apparently engaged in the discussion of an extempore breakfast. To my infinite disgust, I recognised my quondam acquaintances of the cellar.
“Aha! thou art still here then, citizen?” cried Monsieur Destripes, who was inflicting huge gashes upon a ham, filched, no doubt, from the royal buttery.“By my faith, we thought thou hadst given us the slip. Never mind—we are not likely to part soon; so sit thee down and partake of our republican cheer.”
“I am afraid,” said I, “that business requires my presence elsewhere.”
“Let it keep till it cool then,” replied the other. “Suffice it to say, that no man quits this hall till the whole of us march outen masse. Say I right, brother Pomme-de-terre?”
“Just so,” replied the chiffonier, tossing off his draught from an ornament of Venetian glass. “We have built up a second barricade, and have sworn never to surrender.”
“How is this, gentlemen?” said I.
“You must know, sir,” replied a meagre-looking personage, whom I afterwards ascertained to be a barber, “that the liberty of the people is not yet secure. Last night, when we were in the cellar, a large body of the National Guard came, by orders of the Provisional Government, and ejected the whole of our compatriots from the upper stories of the Tuileries. This we hold to be a clear infraction of the charter, for all public buildings are declared to be the property of the people. Fortunately we escaped their notice, but being determined to reassert the rights of France, we have barricaded the staircase which leads to this hall, and are resolved to maintain our post.”
“Bravely spoken, old Saigne-du-nez!” cried the butcher; “and a jollier company you won’t find anywhere. Here are ladies for society, wine for the drinking, provisions to last us a week; and what would you wish for more?Cent mille haches!I doubt if Louis Philippe is enjoying himself half so much.”
“But really gentlemen—”
“Sacre, no mutiny!” cried the butcher; “don’t we know that the sovereign will of the people must be respected? There is thy friend there, as happy as may be; go round and profit by his example.”
Sure enough I discovered poor Bagsby extended in a corner of the hall. The orgies of last evening were sufficient to account for his haggard countenance and blood-shot eyes, but hardly for the multitudinous oaths which he ejaculated from time to time. Beside him sat a bloated poissarde, who was evidently enamoured of his person, and tended him with all that devotion which is the characteristic of the gentler sex. As it was beyond the power of either to hold any intelligible conversation, the lady contrived to supply its place by a system of endearing pantomime. Sometimes she patted Bagsby on the cheek, then chirupped as a girl might do when coaxing a bird to open its mouth, and occasionally endeavoured to insinuate morsels of garlic and meat between his lips.
“Oh, Mr Dunshunner! save me from this hag!”muttered Bagsby. “I have such a splitting headache, and she will insist on poisoning me with her confounded trash! Faugh, how she smells of eels! O dear! oh dear! is there no way of getting out? The barricades and the fighting are nothing compared to this!”
“I am afraid, Mr Bagsby,” said I, “there is no remedy but patience. Our friends here seem quite determined to hold out, and I am afraid that they would use little ceremony, did we make any show of resistance.”
“I know that well enough!” said Bagsby; “they wanted to hang me last night, because I made a run to the door: only, the women would not let them. What do you want, you old harridan? I wish you would take your fingers from my neck!”
“Ce cher bourgeois!” murmured the poissarde: “c’est un méchant drôle, mais assez joli!”
“Upon my word, Mr Bagsby, I think you have reason to congratulate yourself on your conquest. At all events, don’t make enemies of the women; for, heaven knows, we are in a very ticklish situation, and I don’t like the looks of several of those fellows.”
“If ever I get home again,” said Bagsby, “I’ll renounce my errors, turn Tory, go regularly to church, and pray for the Queen. I’ve had enough of liberty to last me the rest of my natural lifetime. But, I say, my dear friend, couldn’t you just rid meof this woman for half an hour or so? You will find her a nice chatty sort of person; only, I don’t quite comprehend what she says.”
“Utterly impossible, Mr Bagsby! See, they are about something now. Our friend the barber is rising to speak.”
“Citizens!” said Saigne-du-nez, speaking as from a tribune, over the back of an arm-chair—“Citizens! we are placed by the despotism of our rulers in an embarrassing position. We, the people, who have won the palace and driven forth the despot and his race, are now ordered to evacuate the field of our glory, by men who have usurped the charter, and who pretend to interpret the law. I declare the sublime truth, that, with the revolution, all laws, human and divine, have perished! (Immense applause.)
“Citizens! isolated as we are by this base decree from the great body of the people, it becomes us to constitute a separate government for ourselves. Order must be maintained, but such order as shall strike terror into the breasts of our enemies. France has been assailed through us, and we must vindicate her freedom. Amongst us are many patriots, able and willing to sustain the toils of government; and I now propose that we proceed to elect a provisional ministry.”
The motion was carried by acclamation, and the orator proceeded:
“Citizens! amongst our numbers there is one man who has filled the most lofty situations. I allude to Citizen Jupiter Potard. Actor in a hundred revolutions, he has ever maintained the sublime demeanour of a patriot of the Reign of Terror. Three generations have regarded him as a model, and I now call upon him to assume the place and dignity of our President.”
Jupiter Potard, a very fine-looking old man, with a beard about a yard long,—who was really a model, inasmuch as he had sat in that capacity for the last thirty years to the artists of Paris,—was then conducted, amidst general applause, to a chair at the head of the table. Jupiter, I am compelled to add, seemed rather inebriated; but as he did not attempt to make any speeches, that circumstance did not operate as a disqualification.
The remainder of the administration was speedily formed. Destripes became Minister of the Interior: Pomme-de-terre received the Portfolio of Justice. A gentleman, who rejoiced in the sobriquet of Gratte-les-rues, was made Minister of War. Saigne-du-nez appointed himself to the Financial Department, and I was unanimously voted the Minister of Foreign Affairs. These were the principal offices of the Republic, and to us the functions of government were confided. Bagsby, at the request of the poissardes, received the honorary title of Minister of Marine.
A separate table was ordered for our accommodation; and our first decree, countersigned by the Minister of the Interior, was an order for a fresh subsidy from the wine-cellar.
Here a sentry, who had been stationed at a window, announced the approach of a detachment of the National Guard.
“Citizen Minister of War!” said Saigne-du-nez, who, without any scruple, had usurped the functions of poor old Jupiter Potard, “this is your business. It is my opinion that the provisional government cannot receive a deputation of this kind. Let them announce their intentions at the barricade without.”
Gratte-les-rues, a huge ruffian with a squint, straightway shouldered his musket and left the room. In a few minutes he returned with a paper, which he cast upon the table.
“A decree from the Hôtel de Ville,” he said.
“Is it your pleasure, citizen colleagues, that this document should now be read?” asked Saigne-du-nez.
All assented, and, as Minister of Foreign Affairs, the following document was placed in my hands. It was listened to with profound attention.
“Unity is the soul of the French nation; it forms its grandeur, its power, and its glory; through unity we have triumphed, and the rights of the people have been vindicated.“Impressed with these high and exalted sentiments,and overflowing with that fraternity which is the life-blood of our social system, the Provisional Government decrees:—“I. That the Tuileries, now denominated the Hôpital des Invalides Civiles, shall be immediately evacuated by the citizens who have so bravely wrested it from the tyrant.“II. That each patriot, on leaving it, shall receive from the public treasury the sum of five francs, or an equivalent in coupons.“III. The Minister of the Interior is charged with the execution of this decree.“Liberté—Fraternité—Egalité.(Signed)Dupont(de l’Eure).Ledru-Rollin.Lamartine.Crémieux.Garnier-Pages.Louis Blanc.Arago.Marrast.Marie.Flocon.Albert(ouvrier).”
“Unity is the soul of the French nation; it forms its grandeur, its power, and its glory; through unity we have triumphed, and the rights of the people have been vindicated.
“Impressed with these high and exalted sentiments,and overflowing with that fraternity which is the life-blood of our social system, the Provisional Government decrees:—
“I. That the Tuileries, now denominated the Hôpital des Invalides Civiles, shall be immediately evacuated by the citizens who have so bravely wrested it from the tyrant.
“II. That each patriot, on leaving it, shall receive from the public treasury the sum of five francs, or an equivalent in coupons.
“III. The Minister of the Interior is charged with the execution of this decree.
“Liberté—Fraternité—Egalité.
(Signed)Dupont(de l’Eure).Ledru-Rollin.Lamartine.Crémieux.Garnier-Pages.Louis Blanc.Arago.Marrast.Marie.Flocon.Albert(ouvrier).”
“Sang de Mirabeau!” cried Destripes, when I had finished the perusal of this document, “do they take us for fools! Five francs indeed! This is the value which these aristocrats place upon the blood of the people! Citizen colleagues, I propose that the messenger be admitted, and immediately flung out of the window!”
“And I second the motion,” said Pomme-de-terre.
“Nay, citizens!” cried Saigne-du-nez,—“no violence. I agree that we cannot entertain the offer, but this is a case for negotiation. Let the Minister of Foreign Affairs draw up a protocol in reply.”
In consequence of this suggestion I set to work, and in a few minutes produced the following manifesto, which may find a place in some subsequent collection of treaties: