CHAPTER III

Alexandre de la Borde--Odilon Barrot--Colonel Dumoulin--Hippolyte Bonnelier--My study--A note in Oudard's handwriting--The Duc de Chartres is arrested at Montrouge--The danger he incurred and how he was saved--I propose to go to Soissons to fetch gunpowder--I procure my commission from General Gérard--La Fayette draws up a proclamation for me--The painter bard--M. Thiers to the fore once more

The foregoing incidents were all taking place at the time I was finishing my repast at the inn of the _Prunes de Monsieur._ I crossed through all the crowds encamped in the place de l'Hôtel de Ville, resting so quietly and cheerfully, in ignorance that the political Cyclops had set to work again and was busy forging a fresh chain out of the old broken one--an eloquent metaphor M. Odilon Barrot might have made use of in speaking at the Tribunal, had there been a Tribunal left.

Alexandre de la Borde was entering the great hall of the Hôtel de Ville at the same time that I was. Some men of the type that are for ever shouting out something, cried--

"_Vive le préfet de la Seine!_"

Odilon Barrot, whose name I have just jotted down in reference to Parliamentary eloquence, was writing at a table, dressed in the uniform of a National Guardsman. He raised his head in surprise that the former préfet of the Seine, M. de Chabrol de Volvic, could excite so much enthusiasm. He recognised Alexandre de la Borde and made a gesture of astonishment.

"Well, yes, it is I," the author of _l'Itinéraire en Espagne_ said, with that bright, almost childish naïveté which was one of the chief characteristics of his personality; "they have just nominated me préfet of the Seine."

"You?"

"Yes, me."

"Who has done that?"

"How should I know? ... Some monsieur with a plumed hat, a large sabre and a long scarf."

This "_monsieur_" was Colonel Dumoulin, who reappeared at every Revolution in exactly the same plumed hat, sabre and scarf, till one began to think he was the cause of all the misfortune.

Odilon Barrot shrugged his shoulders.

"You," he said, "you will belong to the Commune of Paris with us...."

And in a whisper he added--

"And yet!"

Only one who, like myself, was leaning over the back of his arm-chair, could have caught these last two words.

I could see from my position another secretary, who had just come and taken his place opposite, as a rival power. It was M. Hippolyte Bonnelier, La Fayette's secretary; he was, indeed, the counterpart to Odilon Barrot, secretary of the Municipal Commission. I shall never forget how peculiarly M. Hippolyte Bonnelier was accoutred. He wore his powder-horn slung round him on a red ribbon. In his belt he had stuck a tiny poniard of four inches in length. Did he load his poniard with the powder-horn or did he fill his powder-flask with his poniard? It was a problem I was never able to solve.

"I have felled eighteen trees along the boulevards!" he said to Étienne Arago.

"With your poniard?" Étienne laughingly asked.

"No," Bonnelier replied, laughing in his turn; "I meant to say that I marked them out with my poniard and that the people felled them."

And, meanwhile, he was secretary to La Fayette. It was from him that I learned what had passed between MM. de Vitrolles, Sémonville, and Argout and the Municipal Commission.

The situation was becoming more and more interesting. I felt certain that Oudard had gone to Neuilly; and I believed the answer would soon be given, so I made up my mind to spend the night at the Hôtel de Ville. I put myself under Bonnelier's protection and he took me to a kind of private office where was a mahogany desk and arm-chairs upholstered in green velvet. Upon the mantelpiece were five-branched candelabras but without candles in them. I should say that M. de Chabrol was a great and practical economist seeing he had five millions in his safe and no candles in his candlesticks.

I began my operations by putting the key of the cabinet in my pocket, then I went down and bought five candles, went up again, took pencil and paper from Bonnelier's desk and begged him, if any news came from Neuilly, to communicate it to me, which he promised to do. I returned to my room, put in my candles, of which I lighted two, and began to make notes of all I had seen during the day. I had not written more than four lines before I felt my eyes closing in spite of myself. As there was no reason for struggling to resist sleep and I was just dropping with fatigue, I arranged two arm-chairs like a camp bedstead and slept, in spite of the horrible tumult going all round, under and above me. I woke in broad daylight. Except for two or three alarms and the firing of a few shots, the night had been perfectly quiet. I looked into a glass and saw the need there was for me to return home. I had not changed my linen for three days, or shaved for two; my face was covered with freckles and half my drill-waistcoat buttons had been torn off by the weight of the bullets that had drawn it to one side; lastly, one of my gaiters and one of my shoes were covered with the blood of the poor fellow I had helped to lift to the Institut fountain. I left my cabinet and found Bonnelier at his post. He signed to me that he wanted to show me something. I went to him and he slipped a paper into my hands.

"Take a copy of that, if you care to," he said; "but whatever you do, don't lose my copy!"

"What is it?"

"Neuilly, 3.15 a.m.... Oudard, messenger.... Rubrique Laffitte."

"Good!"

I took a pen and copied the following note, word for word. By itself that note would be a curiosity, but, put into juxtaposition with the letter that will be given later, it rises to the dignity of a historic document, like those articles of furniture which are recognised as genuine and pass from an old curiosity shop to a museum. Here is the note:--

"The Duc d'Orléans is at Neuilly with all his family. The royal troops are near him at Puteaux. It only needs an order emanating from the Court to remove him from the nation which may find in him a powerful security for its future safety. It is proposed to approach him in the name of constituted authorities, suitably accompanied, and to offer him the crown. If he raises scruples of delicacy of feeling with regard to his family connection, he will be informed that his residence in Paris is essential to the tranquillity of the capital of France and that he must be put in safety. The absolute certainty of this measure can be relied upon, and there is, moreover, no doubt that the Duc d'Orléans will not lose any time in associating himself heart and soul with the wishes of the nation."

The original note was in Oudard's handwriting.

Strange coincidence! whilst the father was founding a throne the son was incurring the danger of death.

Now we will see what happened.

Bohain and Nestor Roqueplan expected Étienne Arago to breakfast at Gobillard's, in the place de la Bourse. As Arago left the _National_ on his way to the café he met Bohain's, servant looking for his master.

"Ah! monsieur," said the worthy fellow, when he caught sight of Étienne, "do you know where my master is?"

"He should be at Gobillard's," replied Étienne. "What do you want him for?"

"I am sent by his brother-in-law, M. Lhuillier, to tell him I that the Duc de Chartres has been arrested at Montrouge."

"Who had him arrested?"

"M. Lhuillier--he is the mayor of the village. He wants to know what he should do with the prince."

"Humph!" said a man sitting on the pavement, with a rifle between his legs, munching a piece of bread; "what he should do with him? We'll tell him what to do with him! ..." Then, rising--"Here, friends!" he cried out loudly, "the Duc de Chartres has been arrested at Montrouge. Those who would like to taste a bite of prince's flesh come with me!"

"What did you say, my fine fellow?" exclaimed Étienne, laying a hand on the man's shoulder.

"I said that they killed my brother and that I will myself go and kill the Duc de Chartres this very day!"

There was no time to be lost. Étienne flew into the café.

"Look here!" he said to Bohain, "your servant has made a fine mess of it!"

"What has he done?"

"He went and spread the news that the Duc de Chartres was a prisoner in the hands of your brother-in-law, and a score of rascals have started off to kill the prince."

"The devil!" Nestor and Bohain exclaimed in a breath; "that must not be allowed."

"What shall we do?"

"Take upon yourself to lead them, put yourself at their head; keep them back as long as ever you can, and one of us will go and give General La Fayette warning of the danger the prince is in.... A man shall be sent off post-haste to M. Lhuillier, and the Duc de Chartres set at liberty before you and your men reach Montrouge."

"Good!" said Étienne; "but do not lose any time!"

Then, throwing himself at the head of a group of thirty men--

"To Montrouge!" cried Étienne Arago; "to Montrouge, my friends!"

Each one took up the cry, "To Montrouge!" and they started for the Maine barrière, whilst Nestor Roqueplan--as far I can recollect it was Nestor--ran to the place de Grève.

The Vaudeville lay on the route to the Maine barrière; they went across the Palais-Royal gardens, then crossed the square and threaded their way along the rue de Chartres. A scene-shifter was standing at the theatre door, Arago made a sign with his eyes for him to come up to him; the man understood and did so. Arago pretended to be receiving some confidence from the man.

"Good! my friends," he said; "here is a fresh business. You don't know what I have just heard! He says there is a Royalist conspiracy to come and burn down the Vaudeville, and, as you are aware, the insurrection started from the Vaudeville: had we not better begin by searching the theatre first?"

No objections were raised. Besides, many of those honest fellows were not at all displeased at the thought of seeing the inside of a theatre; only the man who had proposed the journey to Montrouge, who was a cooper from the quartier du Roule, tried to raise objections; but nobody listened to him. So they stopped at the Vaudeville, and Arago, lantern in hand, conducted his men from the lowest pit to the galleries; he did not spare them a single post, or trap-door, or side-scene. A whole hour was wasted over this visit. They then continued their course towards the Maine barrière.

Meanwhile, General La Fayette had been warned and had sent off to Montrouge M. Comte, one of the most brilliant students of the École polytechnique, who has since written a capital work on Positive Philosophy. M. Comte was the bearer of a letter couched in the following terms:--

"In a free country, every man should be allowed to circulate wherever he likes; permit M. le Duc de Chartres to return to Joigny, at the head of his Hussars, and await the orders of the Government. LA FAYETTE

"HÔTEL DE VILLE, 30 _July_ 1830"

When I learnt the danger the Duc de Chartres was incurring, I wanted at once to return home and have my horse saddled to gallop off to Montrouge; but it was pointed out to me that, before I could reach the rue de l'Université, M. Comte would be at Montrouge and that it would be much better to await news at the Hôtel de Ville, so I waited. The hours, I must, confess, passed very slowly, from eight in the morning till two in the afternoon. At two, Étienne returned, covered with sweat and dust. The Duc de Chartres was saved. Thanks to the delay at the Vaudeville, and to a second incident which we will relate in due course, the messenger arrived in time.

The Duc de Chartres had with him General Baudrand and M. de Boismilon. M. Lhuillier made the aide-de-camp and the secretary get into the prince's carriage, and asked them to drive off and wait for the Duc de Chartres at la Crois-de-Berny, whilst he himself undertook to bring the prince to the same place safe and sound. Whilst General Baudrand and M. de Boismilon left in a barouche by the front entrance and took the main high road, M. le Duc de Chartres and M. Lhuillier went out by a back door, and left in a cab by a cross-country road, rejoining the road to Joigny, a quarter of a league below the place where M. Baudrand and M. de Boismilon were waiting for the prince.

One circumstance in particular had helped to expedite the flight and Arago's good intentions on the prince's behalf. When they reached the Maine barrière the men were stopped; no armed troops whatever were to be allowed to leave Paris. Their first instinct was towards forcing the obstacle in their way, but they consented to parley with the sentries on duty, and finally ended by fraternising with them. Some of the men even went inside the guard-house itself, while the rest sat down in the ditches hollowed out between the trees to catch rain-water. Arago ordered bread and some bottles of wine for them and I himself undertook to go in search of information. An hour later, he reached Montrouge. M. le Duc de Chartres had just left. He took a copy of General La Fayette's letter to justify the prince's release and carried it back to his men. They took the news in very ill humour, and Étienne could only manage to calm them down by promising that he would take them back to the Hôtel de Ville and give them powder to their hearts' content. Étienne had thus come back with this twofold object in view, of reporting the news of the flight of the Duc de Chartres to General La Fayette, and of giving his men their promised powder. But he had some difficulty in keeping his promise; there had been such a waste of powder that no one knew where to obtain any.

"I give you my word of honour," La Fayette, who could not believe in such a lack of ammunition, said to Étienne, "that if Charles X. were to return to Paris, we should not have four thousand rounds to fire with!"

I heard this answer, and did not let it fall to the ground.

When Arago had gone away, I went up to La Fayette.

"General," I said to him, "did I not hear you tell Arago just now that you were short of powder?"

"Quite true," the general said; "but perhaps I was wrong in mentioning it."

"Will you let me go and fetch some?"

"You?"

"I, myself, certainly."

"Wherefrom?"

"Wherever there may chance to be any, either at Soissons or at la Fère."

"They will not give you any."

"Then I will take it."

"What! you? You will take it?"

"Yes."

"By force?"

"Why not? The Louvre has been taken by force, surely!"

"You are certainly mad, my friend," the general replied.

"Not so, I swear it; I am sane enough!"

"Come, come, go home; you are tired out, past talking almost. They tell me you spent the night here."

"General, give me an order to get powder."

"Nothing of the kind."

"Do you really mean you do not wish me to go?"

"I do not wish to have you shot."

"Thank you; but pray be good enough to give me a free pass to General Gérard's presence."

"Why, yes, I will do that willingly. Monsieur Bonnelier, draw up a passport for M. Dumas."

"Bonnelier is busy, general; I will do it myself, and you can sign it immediately.... You are quite right, I must go home, for I am quite done up!"

I went to a table and drew up the following passport:--

"30 _July_ 1830, 1 o'clock

"Allow M. Alexandre Dumas access to General Gérard."

I presented the paper in one hand and a pen in the other to General La Fayette, and he signed it.

I had got my order.

"Thanks, general," I said.

And, as the passport was in my writing, I added after the two words "General Gérard" the phrase, "To whom we recommend the proposition he has just communicated to us."

Furnished with this pass, I at once went to Laffitte's hotel and gained access to the general. He had seen me at M. Collard's when I was a child, and recognised me when I gave him my name.

"Ah! so it is you, Monsieur Dumas!" he said. "Well, what is this proposition?"

"This is it, general.... M. de La Fayette said in my hearing a few minutes ago, at the Hôtel de Ville, that he was short of powder, and that, in the event of Charles X. returning to Paris, there would probably not be four thousand rounds of shot left."

"It is a fact, and, as you will recognise, a sufficiently disquieting one."

"Well, I offered General La Fayette to go and obtain some powder."

"Wherefrom?"

"Soissons."

"How are you going to get hold of it?"

"How? Why, there are not two ways of taking things, surely? I shall ask politely for it, to be sure."

"From whom?"

"The commanding officer, of course."

"And suppose he refuses?"

"I shall take it without his leave."

"I have been waiting for that.... Once more tell me how you are going to take it?"

"Oh! that is my affair!"

"Is that the proposition recommended to me by General La Fayette?"

"You see it for yourself, the sentence reads clearly enough: 'To General Gérard, to whom we recommend the proposition he has just communicated to us.'"

"Did he not think your suggestion a mad one?"

"I must say, to be quite truthful, that we had just a little discussion about it."

"Did he not tell you that there are twenty chances to one that you will be shot in such an undertaking?"

"I fancy he did express some such opinion."

"In spite of that, he still recommended your proposal to me."

I succeeded in convincing him.

"Why did he not himself issue the order you come to ask of me?"

"Because he maintained, general, that orders to be given to the military authorities are your business, and not his."

General Gérard bit his lips.

"Hum!" he exclaimed.

"Well, general?"

"Well, I say it is impossible!"

"Why so?"

"I cannot compromise myself so far as to issue such an order."

I looked him straight in the face.

"Why not, general?" I said. "I am willing enough to compromise myself to the extent of carrying it out!"

The general shuddered and stared at me in return.

"No, no!" he said, "I cannot.... Apply to the Provisional Government."

"Ah! yes, that Provisional Government of yours! it will be an easy matter if I can find it, but I have been looking all over for it. I have asked all sorts of people to point it out to me, and when I have gone where I was directed, I have only found a large empty hall with a table in the middle, on which stood empty bottles of wine and beer, and in one corner a desk and a sort of minute book on it.... Believe in me, general, since I believe in reality and not shadows, and sign the order I want."

"Do you really want it?" he said.

"I do indeed, general."

"And you are ready to bear the responsibility yourself of whatever harm may come of it?"

"Would you like me to give you a repudiation of all responsibility with respect to my person before I go?"

"You can write the order yourself."

"On condition, general, that you will copy it completely in your own handwriting after ... it will have more weight if it is autograph."

"Very well."

I took up a piece of paper and wrote this rough draft of an order:--

"The military authorities of the town of Soissons are asked to hand over immediately to M. Alexandre Dumas all the powder that can be found either in the powder magazine or in the town.

"PARIS, 30 _July_ 1830"

I presented the paper to General Gérard, who took it, read it and re-read it. Then, as though he had forgotten that I had asked him for an autograph order, he took a pen and, saying, "Since you really wish it...." he signed my order.

I let him do it, for an idea came into my head.

"Thanks, general."

"Are you really satisfied?"

"Very well satisfied."

"Then you are not hard to please."

And he returned to the drawing-room. I still held the pen, and, above his name, I wrote "Minister for War."

The first interpolation had succeeded so well that I ventured on a second one. Thanks to my second interpolation the order read as follows:--

"The military authorities of the town of Soissons are asked to hand over to M. Alexandre Dumas instantly all the powder that can be found either in the powder magazine or in the town. Minister for War,

GÉRARD

"PARIS, 30 _July_ 1830"

But my readers must not suppose this was all. I had an order for the military authorities signed _Gérard_; but I also wanted a similar invitation to the civil authorities signed _La Fayette._ I laid great store by General Gérard's military reputation, but I counted still more upon General La Fayette's popularity; besides, one of the signatures would supplement the other.

When I returned to the Hôtel de Ville I sent to ask to see La Fayette, and he came to me.

"Well," he said to me, "haven't you gone to bed yet?"

"No, general, I am just off."

"To what place?"

"Soissons."

"Without an order?"

"I have one from General Gérard."

"Did Gérard give you an order?"

"Enthusiastically, general."

"Oh! oh! I should much like to look at it."

"Here it is"; and he read it.

"'Minister for War'?" he said, after he had read it.

"He thought that would assist my purpose."

"Then he did well."

"Will not you also give me something?"

"What is it you want?"

"An invitation to the civil authorities to second the revolutionary movement which I am going to try and proclaim to the town. You know well enough that I could not hope to succeed unless through the instrumentality of some popular surprise."

"Granted.... It shall not be said that, since you risk your life in the undertaking, I, on my side, risk nothing."

And he took up a pen, and wrote the following proclamation entirely in his own fine handwriting:--

_To the Citizens of the town of Soissons_

"CITIZENS,--You are acquainted with the events that have been happening in Paris during the three ever-memorable days that have just gone by. The Bourbons have been driven out: the Louvre is taken, and the people are masters of the capital. But the three days' victors may be deprived of the victory they have so dearly bought, for want of ammunition. They, therefore, apply to you in the person of one of our combatants, M. Alexandre Dumas, who comes to make a fraternal appeal to your patriotism and devotion. All the powder that you can send to your brethren in Paris will be considered as an offering to your country.

"For the Provisional Government, the Commander-General of the National Guard,

LA FAYETTE

"HÔTEL DE VILLE DE PARIS, 30 _July_ 1830"

It will be seen that, on the whole, this proclamation did not contain much besides an appeal to patriotism and devotion. Now this was not quite what I wanted; but, there it was, and I had to make the best of it. I embraced General La Fayette, and I descended the steps from the Hôtel de Ville as fast as I could. It was now three in the afternoon; the gates of Soissons, being a fortified town, were shut at eleven at night. I must, therefore, reach Soissons before eleven, and I had twenty-four leagues to go. I caught sight of a young painter called Bard, a friend of mine, in the square. He was a handsome young fellow of eighteen, with a face as calm and impassive as a fifteenth-century marble statue. He looked just like Donatello's Saint George. I was seized with a desire to have a travelling companion, if it should only be for the purpose of getting me properly buried in case the prophecies of the two generals, La Fayette and Gérard, should come true. I went up to him.

"Ah! Bard, old chum," I said, "what are you doing?"

"I?" he said.... "I am looking on.... It's a queer game, is it not?"

"It is something more than that," I said, "it is magnificent! What have you been doing in it all?"

"Nothing.... I have no arms, but an old halberd that lies in my studio."

"Would you like to make up for lost time, then, in one stroke?"

"There is nothing I should like better."

"Then come along with me."

"Where?"

"To get yourself shot."

"I should love it."

"Hurrah! Run off to my rooms and fetch my double-barrelled pistols; have my horse saddled, and come and rejoin me at Le Bourget."

I have forgotten to mention that, out of the first proceeds of _Christine_, I had bought a horse of that same Chopin who, on the morning of the 29th, had been taken for the emperor upon the place de l'Odéon.

"What is Le Bourget?" Bard asked.

"Le Bourget is the first relay posting-station on the road to Soissons."

"Why take your horse, then, if there is a relay post?"

"Ah! in case the post-master should have sent out all his horses; they may have been seized. That is the reason I cannot take my carriage, because of the barricades and because all the posting-masters have not post-carriages in their sheds in spite of the law which legally compels them to have them. Then you see, my dear fellow, if we find a carriage, we will take it; if we only find one horse, we will ride side by side at full speed; if we find neither one nor the other, we shall still have my horse, and you must ride behind me, and we will represent the finest half of the four sons of Aymon."

"I understand."

"Then fetch my horse and the pistols, and whichever reaches Le Bourget first, waits for the other."

"I will fly the whole way!" cried Bard, as he dashed off towards the quay Pelletier.

"And I also," I replied, as I ran off down the rue de la Vannerie, which led straight into the rue Saint-Martin, my most direct way for reaching La Villette.

One word about what was passing while Bart was running along the quay Pelletier and I was scampering down the rue Saint-Martin.

Étienne Arago returned to the _National_ office when he had dispersed his men.

"Do you know the news?" Stapfer asked him.

"What news?"

"Thiers is found once more."

"Pooh! Where is he, then?"

"He is up there, and has begun searching for some subject to write a leader on."

"Well, then, I will take him one."

"You know nobody is allowed to enter his office when he is working?"

"Rubbish! Haven't we been into the king's study?"

"Well, then, go in. You can give him that reason as an excuse, and he will indeed be hard to please if he is not satisfied with it."

Arago entered.

Thiers turned round to see who had the impertinence to defy his orders.

He recognised Arago, who had played a very important rôle in the drama being enacted. The frowning face of the famous political writer softened when he saw who it was.

"Oh! it is you!" he said.

"Yes.... I have hunted you out to give you a subject for an article."

"What is it?"

Arago related the whole adventure of Montrouge and how M. le Duc de Chartres had managed to escape in time.

Thiers listened with the deepest attention.

"Dear, dear," he said when Arago had finished. "Who knows but that you have probably saved the life of a son of France...."

Arago stood with his mouth gaping and his eyes inordinately wide open.

And that was the way the wind was blowing on 30 July 1830, at 3.15 in the afternoon! The wind changed Thiers' plans, and, instead of writing his article, he got up and ran off to Laffitte's.

We shall see, on my return from Soissons, what he did there.