CHAPTER IX

Philippe VII.--How Béranger justified himself for having helped to make a King--The Duc d'Orléans during the three days--His arrival in Paris on the evening of the 30th--He sends for M. de Mortemart--Unpublished letter by him to Charles X.--Benjamin Constant and Laffite--Deputation of the Chamber to the Palais-Royal--M. Sébastiani--M. de Talleyrand--The Duc d'Orléans accepts the Lieutenant-Generalship of the Kingdom--Curious papers found at the Tuileries

My first care after my warm reception by General La Fayette was, it will be readily understood, to go and have a bath and change all my clothes. The bath was not a difficult matter to obtain, as the Deligny swimming bath was nearly opposite my rooms. When I entered, I must say I frightened everybody, down even to old Jean. I consigned my gun, pistols, powder and bullets to the page boy, with the remainder of my three thousand francs. After which, whilst someone went to find Joseph to tell him to bring me fresh linen and clothes, I took the most delicious plunge I ever had in my life. An hour later I was quite in a condition to present myself even before the Provisional Government, if anybody could have told me where they were sitting. I sent home my recently worn fighting outfit, and took my way in the direction of the Hôtel Laffitte. I was eager for news. I had the very greatest difficulty in gaining access to the famous banker. Nobody would recognise me now; I was too well dressed. Discussion of the nature of noisy talking was going on in the Salon. M. Sébastiani was said to have come back from Prince Talleyrand bringing important news. What was that news? Suddenly the door opened and M. Sébastiani, with a radiant face, flung the substance of the following words to the three to four hundred persons who crowded the dining-room, ante-chambers and passages.

"Messieurs, you may announce to everybody that from to-day the name of the King of France will be Philippe VII."

Although I was expecting something of the kind, the shock was a violent one. King for king, I liked King Charles X. almost as much as King Philippe VII. Béranger went by at the moment, and I knew he must have had a great deal to do in that nomination. I flung myself on his neck, partly to embrace him, partly to provoke him to a quarrel, and, laughing and scolding both together, I said:

"Ah! by Jove! you have just served us a fine trick, father."

I called Béranger "father," and he was so gracious as to call me his "son."

"What is it I have done, my son?" he replied.

"What have you done? Well, you have made a king."

His face assumed its usual expression of gentle seriousness.

"Pay deep attention to that which I am going to say to you, my child," he resumed. "I have not exactly made a king ... No...."

"What have you done, then?"

"What the little Savoyards do in a storm.... I have put a plank across the stream."

How many times since have I pondered on that sad and philosophical illustration! It modified some of my ideas; it directed my historical studies in 1831 and 1832; and, in 1833, it inspired me with the epilogue to _Gaule et France._ Béranger moved away. I remained in meditation. What would have happened, supposing I could have foreseen that the most prosaic of any throne upon earth should be raised by a poet in 1830, and overthrown by another poet in 1848? What a strange setting Béranger and Lamartine were to those eighteen years of reign! I was only distracted from my reveries by the murmurs which went on around me. A violent scene was being enacted close by.

A former secretary of Ouvrard, named Poisson, had just opened the door of M. Laffitte's salon, and was declaring, with oaths that were enough to shake the house, that he would have no king. And this opinion was shared, too, by all those who were there.

No, I repeat it, that election was not popular at first, and, from the Hôtel Laffitte to the Palais-Royal, where I next went in pursuance of the flight of the news, I heard more imprecations than applause. I went to No. 216 for fuller details. The Duc d'Orléans was at the Palais-Royal. But if Oudard were within he kept himself invisible. There were porters and clerks, however, all extremely visible and well-informed, because everything was talked of in their presence, they being regarded as of no importance; they are a garrulous lot when they condescend to step down from their self-imputed importance. And I should add that, besides the porters and clerks, there were two or three people who were also perfectly well-informed of the news.

Now, I will guarantee the accuracy of what had occurred and I challenge anybody to dispute the fact. The Duc d'Orléans returned to the Palais-Royal at eleven on the night of the 30th. Let us follow his movements curiously during the three days. The news of the Ordinances and the noise of firing reached the duke at Neuilly, where he spent his summers. From the few words we have already spoken, by the silence and delays with which Laffitte's suggestions were first received, it could be seen that his Highness was extremely anxious. As long as the kingdom hung before his eyes, like a motionless phantom on the horizon, the duke approached it obliquely, timidly and by tortuous ways; yet none the less did he aim for it. But when that phantom took definite shape and drew nearer to him, he grew alarmed. The phantom could no longer label itself a kingdom, but usurpation; it no longer wore the crown of Saint Louis, but the red cap of Danton and Cellot-d'Herbois. The Duc d'Orléans was courageous, but not to the point of audacity. We repeat--and we look upon it as a virtue in him--that he was afraid. During the 28th and 29th he remained hidden in one of the small huts in his park at Neuilly, which bore the name of the Laiterie (the Dairy). On the morning of the 29th they brought him a bullet that had fallen in the park. And on that same day, after he had received from Laffitte the message "A crown or a passport," his uneasiness increased to such an extent that, thinking he was not thoroughly concealed in the hut, he started with Oudard for Raincy. He wore a maroon-coloured coat, blue trousers and a grey hat in which blossomed a tricolour cockade that Madame Adélaide had made him. Before he started, he left behind a note, dated 3.15 in the morning, to make people believe he was at Neuilly. On the 30th, as we have told, after the visit of MM. Thiers and Scheffer, they despatched M. de Montesquieu to him. We have related how he left Raincy and then returned to it. During the whole of the 30th he remained at Raincy without showing any signs of his existence. But all the time messages were piling up, and one of them having announced that a deputation from the Chamber had come to offer him the crown, he then decided to return to Neuilly, which he reached towards nine in the evening. Madame Adélaide had taken possession of a copy of the declaration from the Chamber, perhaps even the actual declaration itself. It was read aloud in the park by torchlight, in the presence of the whole family. He could no longer hold back, but had to choose between the throne--that is to say, the everlasting ambition of his race--or exile, which was the perpetual terror of his life. He embraced his wife and children and set out for Paris only accompanied by three persons: M. Berthois, M. Heymes and Oudard. It was ten at night when they left the carriage at the barrier; they entered Paris, climbed over the barricades and reached 216 rue Saint-Honoré. The duke re-entered the Palais-Royal by the side entrance used by the employés, and not by the main court and staircase of honour. He went upstairs to Oudard's office, which was, it will be remembered, next to my old office. There, exhausted with fatigue, running with sweat, and shivering convulsively, he flung off his coat, waistcoat and shirt, even to his flannel vest, changed clothes, sent for a mattress and threw himself upon it. He knew of M. de Mortemart's arrival in Paris, and with what honourable object the duke had come; he sent for him to beg him at once to come to the Palais-Royal. A quarter of an hour later M. de Mortemart was announced. The Duc d'Orléans raised himself on one elbow.

"Oh! come here, come here, monsieur le duc!" he exclaimed in a short, feverish voice when he saw him; "I hasten to tell you, so that you may transmit my words to King Charles, how very grieved I am at all that has happened."

M. de Mortemart bowed.

"You are returning to Saint-Cloud, are you not? You will go and see the king?"

"Yes, monseigneur."

"Well, then," the duke continued in agitation, "tell the king they have brought me to Paris by force. I was at Raincy yesterday, when a crowd of men invaded the Château of Neuilly.... They asked to see me in the name of the re-union of the Chamber, but I was absent. They threatened the duchess, telling her she would be taken to Paris a prisoner with her children until I reappeared, and she was afraid ... that is surely easily conceivable in a wife?... She wrote me a note urging me to return ... you know how fond I am of my wife and children;... that consideration weighed with me before all others, and I returned. They were waiting for me at Neuilly, seized me and brought me here ... that is how I am situated."

Just at that moment, cries of "Vive le Duc d'Orléans!" resounded in the street and penetrated right into the Palais-Royal courtyard. M. de Mortemart shuddered.

"You hear, monseigneur?" he said.

"Yes, yes, I hear ... but I count for nothing in those shoutings, and you can tell the king I would rather die than accept the crown."

"Should you have any objections, monseigneur, to assure the king of these honourable intentions in writing?"

"None at all, monsieur, none at all.... Oudard, bring me a pen, paper and ink."

Whilst Oudard was looking for them, the duke tore a blank sheet from a sort of register which lay within his reach: it was a register in connection with the Chevaliers de l'Ordre. Then, according to his habit, to economise paper, he made the rough draft of his letter upon the sheet he tore out of the register. It was, no doubt, owing to this economy of his that we are able to give the public a copy of that highly important, extremely curious and authentic letter. When the Duc d'Orléans had written his letter, he crumpled up the rough copy in his hands, threw it away behind him, and it rolled into a corner by the fireplace, where it was picked up the next day. By whom, I cannot say. I can only state that I copied the letter you are about to read from that very rough draft itself. As for the fate of the final letter, M. de Mortemart folded it, placed it inside his white cravat, and went away to carry it to the king. It was this letter that Charles X. re-read with much bitterness, when he learnt that Louis-Philippe had accepted the crown. Here is the rough draft with his autograph and erasures; we have not altered one single letter from the original, but left it exactly as His Royal Highness wrote it.

"M. de ---- will tell Your Majesty how they brought me here by force. I do not know to what point these people may go in the employment of force towards me; but (_if it should happen_) if in this fearful state of disorder it should happen that they were to impose upon me a title to which I have never aspired, Your Majesty may be (_convinced_) very well assured that I will receive no kind of power except temporarily, and in the sole interest of Our House.

"I hereby formally swear this to Your Majesty.

"My family share my feelings in this matter.

"(Your faithful subject)."

PALAIS-ROYAL,

_July_ 31, 1830.

We will now invite our readers, those especially who like to form an exact impression of the character of the men who are chosen for leaders of humanity; we will, we say, invite them to compare this copy of the letter with the note sent from Neuilly during the night of the 29th of July.

Louis-Philippe as a private individual, Louis-Philippe as politician and Louis-Philippe as king, are all faithfully depicted by his own hand in that note and that rough draft of a letter. But the date of 31 July puzzles us, especially after the lapse of twenty-two years. Is it an error of the duke's, or was the note not signed until after midnight?--this would make the date of the 31st correct; or, again, as is just conceivably possible, was it signed only on the evening of the 31st? Our own opinion is that it was signed on the morning of the 31st, between one and two o'clock, after midnight. And we base our opinion on the fact that, at one o'clock in the morning M. Laffitte had not yet been informed of the arrival of the Duc d'Orléans. Besides, the salons of the illustrious banker, deserted little by little by those whom the silence and absence of the Duc d'Orléans rendered anxious, kept on thinning in a manner far from re-assuring. At two o'clock in the morning, indeed, no one was left in the salon but Laffitte and Benjamin Constant. Béranger had just retired, worn out with fatigue.

"Well!" Laffitte remarked with his accustomed imperturbability, "what do you think of the situation, Constant?"

"I?" the author of _Adolphe_ laughingly replied. "Well, my dear Laffitte, it is a hundred chances to one that by to-morrow at this hour we shall be hung."

Laffitte made a gesture.

"Ah! I quite understand that. You are not madly in love with hanging; it would spoil your pretty pink face and your well-groomed hair and your perfectly adjusted cravat; while I, with my long yellow face, look as though I had been hanged already, and the cord would add little to my physiognomy."

With this compliment, the two men separated at half-past two in the morning. It was only at five that they waked M. Laffitte to warn him of the arrival of the Duc d'Orléans in Paris.

"Oh!" said he, "Benjamin Constant is distinctly wrong, and we shall not be hanged."

Now, at eight o'clock in the morning the deputation from the Chamber, which had presented itself at Neuilly the previous day, appeared at the Palais-Royal, headed by General Sébastiani. He was the very same general who, on 29 July, said, "Beware lest you go too far, gentlemen ... we are merely negotiating, and our part is that of mediators, we are not even deputies!"--the same who, on the 30th, said, "The only national thing in France is the white flag!"--again, on the 31st, "Go, Monsieur Thiers, and try to persuade the Duc d'Orléans to accept the crown!" and, again, on I August, "Gentlemen, tell the whole world that the name of the King of France is now Philippe VII.!" In a word, he who later was to say, "Order reigns at Warsaw!"

Nor let us forget that it was this same General Sébastiani who, on my first visit to Paris, received me with four secretaries, each stationed in the four corners of his room ready to offer him snuff out of a gold snuff-box.

A regular character to be studied during a revolution, and one whose memory I should like to preserve to posterity! Why have not such men the power of imprinting their images (like that of the Christ) on the handkerchiefs with which they mop their ambitious brows?

The Duc d'Orléans put in an appearance this time; he promised nothing definite, but he pledged himself to give his answer in an hour. He, too, like Brutus, had a Delphic Oracle to consult. His special Oracle lived at the corner of the rue de Rivoli and the rue Saint Florentin.

Louis Blanc relates how, on 29 July 1830, at five minutes past noon, a window was timidly opened at the corner of the rue Saint Florentin, but, timidly as it opened, a shrill cracked voice cried out--

"Monsieur Keiser, Monsieur Keiser, what are you doing?"

"I am looking into the street, prince."

"Monsieur Keiser, you will be the cause of my house being broken into."

"No chance of that, prince: the troops are beating a retreat and the people are busily engaged in pursuing them."

"Oh! really, Monsieur Keiser?"

Then the person addressed by the title of prince rose, limped towards the clock, and in a reassured and almost solemn tone of voice, he said--

"Monsieur Keiser, make a note in your diary that on 29 July, at five minutes past noon, the Elder Branch of the House of Bourbon ceased reigning over France."

That lame old man, who in prophetic utterance had announced the downfall of Charles, was Charles Maurice de Talleyrand Périgord, Prince of Benevento, once Bishop of Autun, who was the first to suggest the sale of the benefices of the clergy in 1789; who said mass upon the altar of patriotism on 14 July 1790, the day of the fête of the Federation; who was sent, in 1792, to London by Louis XVI. to assist the Ambassador M. de Chauvelin; who was Foreign Minister in 1796, under the Directory; created Grand-Chamberlain on the accession of the Emperor in 1804; created Prince of Benevento in 1806; and received the title of Vice-Grand Elector, with a salary of five hundred thousand francs, in 1807; who was made a member of the Provisional Government in 1814; and Minister for Foreign Affairs and envoy extraordinary to Vienna, by Louis XVIII. in the same year; who was appointed Ambassador to London by Louis-Philippe in 1830; and who, finally, died, more or less of a Christian, on 18 May 1838.

Now, I have frequently heard men who were most conversant with contemporary politics and with the corruption of the times wonder how M. de Talleyrand had managed to get pardoned by Louis XVIII. for having been a member of the Constituent Assembly, sworn Bishop, officiating Minister at the Champs de Mars, Minister of the Directory, plenipotentiary of Bonaparte, Grand-Chamberlain to the Emperor, etc. etc.

I am going to tell you a thing of which future history would otherwise be unaware, a fact that will probably not come out until true Memoirs of the Prince are published.

M. de Talleyrand was warned of the First Consul's intention to arrest and shoot the Due d'Enghien eight or ten days in advance. He summoned a courier upon whom he knew he could rely, and sent a letter by him to the duke, telling him to sew it into his coat collar, to set off at top speed and only to give the letter to the Due d'Enghien himself. The letter urged the prince to leave Ettenheim instantly, and warned him of his threatened danger. The courier left in the night of 7 and 8 August 1804. It is known that the order to arrest the prince was not issued till the 10th. The courier started as we have described, but, going down the hill of Saverne at a gallop, his horse fell, and broke its rider's leg. Unfortunately, he could not intrust his mission to the first-comer, and he dared not take any such responsibility, so he wrote to ask M. de Talleyrand what he was to do. By the time M. de Talleyrand had received the letter it was already too late to take any step; the order for the arrest had already gone forth. But Prince Condé and Louis XVIII. and Charles X. knew the story, and hence arose the pardon granted to a Republican and Bonapartist, for misdeeds of the former Bishop of Autun. Now it was Talleyrand that his future majesty of the Palais-Royal wished to consult before venturing to pick up the crown which had rolled from the head of Charles X. in the blood of the barricades. It was General Sébastiani whom the Duc d'Orléans commissioned to interrogate the oracle. The said oracle was extremely vexed that everything had been done without him until then, that M. Laffitte had looked upon him as of little account, and he only condescended to reply in these words: "Let him accept."

After this reply, the prince accepted at the end of the promised hour, and the following proclamation was affixed to all the walls of the capital announcing this acceptance to the Parisians:--

"INHABITANTS OF PARIS,

"The deputies of France, at this time assembled in Paris, have expressed the desire that I should come to the capital in order to discharge the duties of Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. _I have not for one moment wavered in coming to share your dangers_, by placing myself in the centre of the heroic population, and I will use all my endeavours to preserve you from civil war and anarchy. In returning to the City of Paris, I wore with pride those glorious colours which you have regained and which I for a long time have worn. The Chambers are about to re-assemble; _they will confer concerning the best means of bringing about the reign of law and the maintenance of order._ _A_ Charter will henceforth be a fact.

"L. P. D'ORLÉANS"

There were three noticeable points in this proclamation:

The duke, first of all, declares that he _did not waver for one moment in coming to share the dangers_ of the Parisian people. A lie, since, on the contrary, he hid himself both at Neuilly and at Raincy during the time of danger, and only reached Paris when the danger was over on the night of the 30th. Next, he announces that the Chambers were about to assemble to _confer concerning the best methods of bringing about the reign of law and the maintenance of order_; which statement was a calumny against the people; for, if ever people respected law and maintained order it was the people of July 1830. Finally, M. le Duc d'Orléans said that _a_ Charter would henceforth be a genuine fact. He should have said that, from the very next day, not _a_ Charter but _the_ Charter, a change imperceptible to the eye and almost to the ear, which brought with it, however, the grave consequence that France, instead of having a new charter, was simply to have the Charter of Louis XVIII., and this meant that the king of the barricades, by appropriating that old charter, not only did not take the trouble to draw up another, but, with a new form of government, only promised to give the people the same amount of liberty as that promised by the fallen Government. This was, indeed, a bold start on a career of kingship. Lying, calumny and chicanery: Louis XI. himself could not have gone farther.

I said that, at the close of this chapter, I would give some idea of the stinginess of the Duc d'Orléans. Perhaps this is not exactly the place for the fragments we are about to introduce to our readers' notice; but those who think they interrupt the course of the narrative, can carry their imaginations elsewhere.

Let us first of all explain how these fragments of information fell into our hands. To do this in one step we must skip over a period of eighteen years; and, instead of the young man who took active part in all we have just read, substitute the mature man who stood aside, and sadly watched the passing of the events of that long reign; we must suppose the Lieutenant-general, to whose proclamation we have just listened, to be a king, also grown old and unpopular and driven away in his turn; we must imagine ourselves to have left behind Sunday morning, August 1830, for three o'clock in the afternoon of 24 February 1848. Then, the king gone and the Tuileries seized and the Republic proclaimed, I returned alone, sad and anxious, more of a Republican than ever, but of the opinion that the Republic was ill-constituted, ill-matured and ill-promulgated; I returned, my heart depressed by the spectacle of a wife cruelly repulsed, two children separated from their mother, two princes put to flight, one hunted through the rostral columns of the Place de la Concorde, the other along the circular staircases of the Palace of the Deputies; I returned, wondering if all I had seen and heard could actually be true, or whether I was not rather under the influence of a strange nightmare, a mysterious vision; I returned and, metaphorically speaking, felt myself to see if I could really be alive--for it is sometimes as easy for us to doubt our own existence as to doubt the weirdly strange events that we see passing under our very eyes;--I returned, I say, by the Tuileries, with its windows all open and its doors broken in, as on that famous 29 July which I have described at, perhaps, too great length; but how could I help myself? There are some memories which fill such a space in our lives that we feel compelled to impress them upon the lives of others. I was possessed with the idea of looking over the château that I had entered once before and to begin in the same way, at the apartments of King Louis-Philippe, on 24 February 1848, as I had through the rooms that belonged to King Charles and on 29 July 1830.

The account of what I saw will be given elsewhere. I have only one thing to relate, and here it is. As I went through the king's cabinet, where all kinds of papers lay scattered over the floor, all soiled with mud, in the midst of these forgotten, useless papers, condemned to the fire and oblivion, I detected some pages covered with characters which made me tremble. It was the king's writing; that very writing which, twenty-five years before, had often passed under my eyes. A patriot of 1848, as ragged as a former patriot of 1830, kept guard over the king's broken-open desk.

"Comrade," I said to the man, "may I have some of these papers that litter the floor?"

"You can take them," he replied; "they are probably left because they are of no value."

So I took them.

At the first Revolution I had come into possession of a copy of _Christine_ inscribed with the arms of the Duchesse de Berry. At the second, I obtained some old yellow papers that lay on the floor, which I was allowed to take because the sentinel thought they were valueless. It will be noticed that I am not one of the persons who grow rich out of revolutions. True, I do not come under the category of those who are submerged by them. I sail above them, like birds and clouds; then, when the revolutions are over, I direct my flight, not to the side where lie power and fortune, but to the 1 side of justice and faithfulness, even though I should have to follow justice into exile and loyalty through proscription.

But here is a copy of the papers: they themselves will speak better than any notes or commentaries could.

THE CHILDREN'S BREAKFASTS

Fr. C.

The young princes and their {Six portions, at 90 c. 5.40 tutors {Seven loaves, at 20 c. 1.40

Princesses Louise and Marie {One soup, at at 1.50 and Madame de Mallet. {Two portions 1.80 {Two loaves 0.40

Princesse Clémentine and {One soup, at 1.50 Madame Angelet {One portion, at 0.90 {Two loaves 0.40

THE CHILDREN'S BREAKFASTS--(_continued_)

Fr. C.

Duc de Nemours and M. {Cold meat 1.50 Larnac, who take them to {Entremet 1.50 the college {Two portions 0.80 {Two loaves 0.40 ______ [Extra sugar paid for separately] Total by day, without coffee paid separately 18.50 Extra, 10 c. per portion 1.10 ______ 19.60 25 c. Soup and entremet 1.20 11 S., 13 loaves, 4 portions ______ 20.80

_New Tariff of Expenses--Housekeeping Establishment_

For my table, the same except the suppression of the two fixed price meals of 6 fr. and 12 fr. (18 fr. altogether), the two monthly settlements of 1000 fr. and 150 fr. and a discharge to the contractor, of the payment of 1010 fr. per annum for the water-carrier.

FOR MY CHILDREN'S TABLE, INCLUDING THEIR TEACHERS

_Breakfast_--(A special tariff kept up during my absence as well as presence). Fr. C.

Saucers of fruits or sweetmeats 1.0 Soup 1.80 Chicken or cold meat 1.80 Entremet of vegetables, etc 1.80 Each loaf 0.20 French rolls à la Reine 0.10 Cup of coffee, simple 0.50 _Id._ with cream 0.75 Tea and bread and butter 1.50 ______

_Dinner and Supper_, charged at half mine when it is served at same time, but at the same tariff as mine when I am absent and when it is omitted. The demi tariff is accordingly as follows:--

Fr. C. Soup 2.50 Entrees 4.50 Roast or flank 6.0 Entremets 2.50 Plate of dessert 1.50 Bread, coffee, tea, etc., the same as at breakfast Sugar basins table Nothing _Id._ in the rooms 2.0

Extra 2 francs per head and per day in case of absence or omission of the superior meals, for those fed in the pantry and the kitchen.

_Another Tariff of Household Expenses_

For the Princes' table, the same.

FOR THE CHILDREN'S _Breakfasts_ Instead of Fr.C. Fr.C. Portions 0.90 1.0 Soups 1.25 1.80 Chicken and cold meat 1.25 do. Entremet or vegetable, etc. 1.25 do. French rolls 0.10 Bread, per person 0.20 Cup of coffee, simple 0.50 _Id._ with cream 0.75 Tea, complete 1.50

_Less per day_ Regular meals 18.0 Per month 37.80 60/61 Children's 48.0 ______ Per day 103-80 _Id._ 104+46 ______ _Extra_ 66c. ______

_Dinner or Supper_ Fr.C. Soups. 2.50 Entrees. 4.50 Roast or flank 6.0 Entremets. 2.50 Dishes of dessert 1.50

[Bread, coffee and tea as before] Except when there is only the Children's table to serve, in which case it is tariffed the same as the Princes' table.

_Extra per day_

Children's breakfast (without coffee) 20.80 Dinner 43.0 Supper 38.90 Water-carrier. 2.76 60/61 ______ Extra per day 105.46 ______

In addition to this, in case of omission of these two tables, the contractor receives 2 fr. per day per head both, for each person maintained in the kitchen and in the office.

By means of this fresh tariff he is discharged from having to pay the water-carrier; but he does not receive the fixed 12 fr. per dinner and 6 fr. per breakfast for the Princes' table, nor the 1150 fr. per month for wood, coal and washing.

After this tariff the Children's breakfast-- Fr. C. Fr. C. 17.30+ 3.50 Fr. C. 20.80 Less 18{ 12 Their dinner 42.0 } Coffee not { 6 Their supper 38.90} included And price per day of 13,800 fr. per year, Total 98.20 37.80 Formerly 48.20 _____ _____ 55.80 Difference extra 50.20 _Extra_ 56.46 Plus water-carrier 2.76 _____ _____ _Bonus_ 0.66 Extra per day 52.96 _____

ACCOUNTS

13,800 {365 Extra on breakfast _____ tariff {37.80 Portions, 1 fr. each: 2,850 Soup, cold meat, and 2,950 entremet 300 Each 1.80 3.50 _______ 1.010 _________________________ 365 Makes 56.46 per day extra _________________________ 2800 {__________ {2.76 60/61 2,450 260.52 ______ 98.20 2.76 565.61 _____ ______ 100.96 ______