CHAPTER IV

Boyer the Cruel--The ten thousand rations of bread--General Exelmans and Charras--The concierge at the prefecture of Versailles--M. Aubernon--Colonel Poque--Interview of Charles X. with MM. de Schonen, Odilon Barrot and Marshal Maison--The Royal Family leave Rambouillet--Panic--The crown jewels--Return to Paris

Whilst Delanoue and I slept the sleep of the just; whilst the men in the second line had not half appeased their appetites and were taking in their belts; whilst the men of the third line, who hadn't eaten anything at all, were roaring like a herd of lions in the desert; whilst the drivers were snoring inside their carriages, and the horses were eating their hay and oats; whilst the camp-fires were going out and throwing their uncertain light over an area of three leagues of trampled-down harvest-fields, over sleeping men and wandering phantoms, let us describe what was going on at headquarters.

The advance-guards had hardly established themselves on the road between Cognières and Rambouillet before they brought to the post-hostelry, on the left of the road, a general who had forcibly tried to break through the line of sentinels. He still wore the white cockade: it was old General Boyer, whom we all knew, he who afterwards had a command in Africa, and who won for himself out there, whether justly or not, the nickname of Boyer the Cruel. General Pajol had not yet arrived. Inside the inn parlour were seated, eating, at a round table, M. de Schonen, M. Odilon Barrot and M. le Maréchal Maison; they were on their road to Rambouillet for the second time. Charras was in command, in the absence of General Pajol. They brought General Boyer to him, who frankly gave his name and admitted that he had come to offer his sword in the service of Charles X. This was, indeed, an embarrassing prisoner for Charras to deal with. The young aide-de-camp went into the room where the three commissioners were dining and, addressing Marshal Maison, he said--

"Monsieur le Maréchal, they have just arrested General Boyer."

"Well," asked the marshal, "what do you want me to do in the matter?"

"Will you make him give his parole? I will set him free."

"No, good gracious! no," exclaimed the marshal. "Keep an eye on him, and, when Pajol comes, he can do what he likes with him."

They brought General Boyer into a room adjoining the one in which the commissioners were dining.

Charras had not eaten anything since the morning he had breakfasted with General Pajol, and the commissioners could easily detect that their dinner was attracting his attention. They therefore offered him a share, which he accepted. Marshal Maison never drank any wine but champagne; he poured out three or four glasses successively (they drank out of a sort of tumbler) for General Pajol's aide-de-camp, who, upon an empty stomach, with nerves excited by his campaign to la Fère and forehead burning from six days' consecutive sun, found himself overcome by quite a fresh kind of excitement. So, accordingly, when General Pajol rejoined them, finding that the bread had not yet arrived, and asking for a volunteer to go to Versailles, Charras, who, reckoning for ins and outs, had already done some twenty leagues during the day,--Charras, I say, seeing that nobody offered, himself volunteered.

"But," said Pajol, "are you made of iron?"

"Iron or no," said Charras, "you can see very well that if I do not go, no one else means to go."

"Off with you, then!... But, of course, if you meet the bread on the road, you will return back with it."

"You bet!"

Charras ran to the stables, saddled his horse and set off at a quick trot. When he had got as far as Trappes he was stopped by an outpost of the rearguard, who blocked the road.

"_Qui vive?_" cried the sentinel.

"Friend."

"That isn't enough!"

"Why isn't it enough?"

"It isn't! Who are you?"

"Charras, first aide-de-camp to General Pajol, commander-in-chief of the Expeditionary Army of the West."

"Advance one and give the countersign."

Things were all conducted in proper military order, as will be seen.

"Who is in command here?" asked Charras.

"General Exelmans."

"I congratulate him: take me to him."

They gratified his wish, which seemed quite reasonable. The general was asleep under a plum tree, wrapped in his cloak, to the left of the roadside. His son was asleep near him. Charras laid bare the object of his coming.

"Do you know," Exelmans replied, "that we too are all famishing of hunger?"

"General, it is through no fault of General Pajol's; he sent Colonel Jacqueminot to Versailles to order ten thousand rations of bread at eleven o'clock this morning."

"To whom?"

"To the prefect."

"And hasn't the brute sent it?"

"You can see for yourself he has not, since I am on my way to look for it."

"You are quite sure it was ordered?"

"Colonel Jacqueminot started in my presence."

"In that case, monsieur, I, General Exelmans, command you to have the prefect shot."

Charras drew a note-book and pencil from his pocket.

"One word in writing, General, and it shall be accomplished within an hour."

"But, monsieur...."

"In pencil will be all I want."

"But, monsieur...."

"Come," said Charras, "I see the Prefect of Versailles won't be shot to-night."

"But, monsieur, think what it is you are asking me to do!"

"I am only asking you to let me pass through your lines, General."

"Allow this gentleman to pass through," said General Exelmans.

He lay down to sleep again under his plum tree, and Charras continued his journey. He reached the barrier of Versailles, made himself known, took four National Guards with him and made his way to the Prefecture. It was one o'clock in the morning and everyone was asleep. He had to knock a quarter of an hour before extracting the least sign of life from the house. Charras and the Guards went at it tooth and nail, some knocking with the butt-end of their pistols and others with that of their rifles. At last, a voice called out from the courtyard--

"What do you want?"

"I want a word with the prefect."

"What! with the prefect?"

"Yes."

"At this time of night?"

"Certainly."

"He is asleep."

Well, I will wake him up, then. Come, come, open the door, and quickly too, or I shall break it in!"

"You would break open the prefect's door!" exclaimed the stupefied concierge.

"Yes," said Charras. "By Jove! what a gift of the gab the fellow has!"

The concierge opened to them: he was only half awake, half brushed up and half dressed.

"Come now, take me to the prefect."

"But I tell you he is asleep."

"And I tell you to proceed to his room, you rogue!"

He gave the concierge a kick that made him climb the stairs in double quick time and, opening the prefect's room, the concierge placed his tallow candle on the night-table, revealing to Charras a man who was rubbing his eyes; then the concierge went out, saying--

"There is M. le Préfet, settle what you like with him."

The prefect raised himself on his elbow.

"What!" he said,--"what do they want with me?"

"I want to inform you, Monsieur le Préfet," said Charras, "that, whilst you are sleeping tranquilly, there are ten thousand men round Rambouillet who are mad with hunger through your fault."

"How through my fault, pray?"

"No doubt of it.... Did you not receive an order to send off ten thousand rations of bread to Cognières?"

"Well, monsieur?"

"Well, monsieur, those ten thousand rations are still in Versailles, that is all I can say."

"Heavens! What do you want me to do?"

"Want you to do? Oh! that is plain enough.... I want you to get up and come with me to the military bakehouse to have the bread loaded in carriages; I want you to give the order for them to start on their journey at once."

"But, monsieur, you speak in such a tone...."

"I speak as I ought."

"Do you know who I am?"

"What does it matter to me who you are?"

"Monsieur, I am M. Aubernon, Prefect of Seine-et-Oise."

"And I, monsieur, am M. Charras, first aide-de-camp to General Pajol, commander-in-chief of the Expeditionary Army of the West, and I have orders to shoot you if you do not instantly send off the bread."

"To shoot _me?_" cried the prefect, leaping up in his bed.

"Neither more nor less than that.... Will you run the risk?"

"Monsieur, I will get up and go with you to the bakehouse."

"So, well and good!"

The prefect rose and went with Charras to the bakehouse, where the carts were loaded with the bread.

"I will leave you here, monsieur," said Charras; "for you know it is to your best interest to send the carriages off quickly."

And back the indefatigable messenger went, along the road to Cognières.

Meanwhile, the three commissioners had reached Rambouillet, where they arrived about nine o'clock at night. Everything was in the greatest confusion. An event, which was not wanting in a certain degree of solemnity, had clouded people's spirits with trouble. That morning, the identical Colonel Poque by whom La Fayette had sent word to Étienne Arago to discontinue wearing his cockade had arrived with an early troop of insurgents. He may, perhaps, have had some special commission for General Vincent, under whom he had served in 1814. However this may be, when he reached the outposts, he left his little troop behind him and approached within earshot, handkerchief in hand. He was accompanied by a cuirassier, who had passed with the people and who followed Colonel Poque as his orderly. General Vincent was with the Royalist outposts and shouted to the colonel to stop. The colonel stopped, but, waving his handkerchief, he announced that he did not mean to withdraw until he had spoken to the soldiers. General Vincent declared, on his part, that if Poque did not retire he would fire upon him. Poque folded his arms and waited. The general challenged him three times to withdraw and, seeing he remained immovable at the third time, gave the order to fire upon him. All in the front rank obeyed. The cuirassier's horse was struck down under him by three bullets. Colonel Poque had his ankle broken by another bullet and lay down on his horse's back in agony, but still he did not budge. They went to him, took him off and carried him into the out-buildings of the château. This example showed the soldiers the temper of the men with whom they had to deal.

Charles X. was in despair over the incident: he inquired who Colonel Poque was and sent word by Madame de Gontaut to ask if there was anything he wanted.

Poque, whose mother was in the Pyrenees, desired that she should be told of the accident but not how serious the wound was. Charles X. sent his own doctor to the colonel and the doctor saw that there was nothing for it but to cut off his leg! Madame de Gontaut herself wrote to the mother of the injured man.

At five o'clock they learnt of the approach of the Parisian army; at seven they announced its arrival. Materially, so to speak, this army was not at all terrible; but, morally, it meant the spirit of Revolution advancing against Royalty.

In the midst of these troubles and various counsels and differing decisions they debated what should be done. Some wanted to hold out to the last, proposing a retreat on the Loire, a second Vendée and a Chouans war. Others took a more desponding view of the fortunes of the Monarchy and advised a prompt flight. The dauphin, who had tried to snatch Marshal Marmont's sword from him, had cut his fingers and was sulking like a child. The marshal considered he had been insulted and shut himself up in his room, without a word. At eight o'clock, Rambouillet was already half deserted: the courtiers (those who had dined that very day at the king's table) had disappeared, some of them in such haste that, they had not even stopped to pick up their hats. The soldiers alone remained at their posts although they were moody, sullen and depressed.

It was through this funereal atmosphere, then, that MM. de Schonen, Odilon Barrot and Marshal Maison had to pass to reach Charles X. The old king received them with frowning face and a curtness of manner most unusual to him.

"What more do you want of me, messieurs?" he asked.

"Sire, we have come on behalf of the lieutenant-general."

"Well, but I have come to an agreement with him and everything is settled between us."

The commissioners kept silence.

"Did he not receive the letter I sent him by M. de Latour-Foissac, which contained my abdication and that of the dauphin?"

"Yes, sire; but has he replied to it?"

"No, true, he has not. But what need had he to reply, as he answered my two earlier letters, in each of which he assured me of his devotion?"

The commissioners again remained silent.

"Come, gentlemen, speak," said Charles X.

"Sire, we have come from the Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, to warn your Majesty that the people of Paris are marching upon Rambouillet."

"But my grandson?... Henri V.?" exclaimed Charles X.

For the third time, the commissioners made no reply.

"His rights cannot be challenged, surely," Charles X. resumed with vehemence; "his rights are reserved by my act of abdication; I have fifteen thousand men round me ready to die to preserve his rights!... Answer me, gentlemen! By all that France holds dear, I adjure you to answer me!"

Marshal Maison made a backward movement, in distress at the sight of the overwhelming grief that revealed itself on the old man's countenance.

"Sire," said Odilon Barrot, "you must not found the throne of your grandson on bloodshed."

"And," added Marshal Maison, "may the king ponder on the fact of sixty thousand men marching towards Rambouillet!"

The king stopped short in front of Marshal Maison and, after a moment's silence, he said--

"Two words aside with you, Monsieur le Maréchal."

The other commissioners drew back.

"I am at the king's commands," said the marshal.

The king signed to the marshal to come to him, and the marshal obeyed.

"Upon your word of honour, monsieur," the king said, looking the marshal straight in the face, "does the Parisian army really number as many as sixty thousand men, as you have assured me?"

The marshal no doubt thought it would be a pious fraud to save the country from civil war. And, perhaps, he may at the same time have believed he was telling the truth: the plain, the road, the whole country between Versailles and Rambouillet was covered with men.

"On my word of honour, it is so, sire!" he said.

"That is all," said Charles X.; "you may withdraw.... I shall take the advice of the dauphin and of the Duc de Raguse."

The commissioners went away; but the dauphin declined to offer advice.

"Sire," the Duc de Raguse replied, "I offer my king a final proof of fidelity by counselling him to retreat."

"Good, Monsieur le Maréchal," said Charles X. "Let everything be ready for our departure to-morrow at seven in the morning."

Alas! thus it was that, compelled, driven into a corner by circumstances, this last of our knightly kings yielded up his sword, not, however, like King John or François I., who did not consider that it could be surrendered except on the field of battle.

But the royal cause now suffered a more disastrous defeat than those at Poitiers or Pavia.

Whilst all these grave concerns were being debated between the powerful or, rather, between the weak ones of the earth (for were not these kings who had to go away, each in his turn, and die in exile at Goritz or at Claremont among the weakest of men?), I, who had had nearly as much difficulty to conquer my straw stack as Louis-Philippe had to conquer his throne, certainly slept better under my straw roof than the king under his velvet canopy. Towards four or five o'clock in the morning, I was awakened by a well-sustained fusillade; the bullets whizzed past one another and the fiacres which were meant to serve us as barricades against the attack of the Swiss and Royal Guards, ran away in all directions across the plain as fast as their horses could gallop. It proved a false alarm! Good Heavens! what would have happened had the alarm been real? This was what had taken place. Some men had let off their guns as they ran away from Rambouillet, and the camp thought the fight had begun: it rose half asleep and fired haphazard; the first instinct of any man who has a gun in his hands is to use it, and hence the firing and cross-firing which awaked me. Finally, it was all explained and cleared up, and nothing worse resulted than one man killed and two or three wounded; the army thundered out a tremendous _Marseillaise_ and went on its way back to Paris. But Delanoue and I made the journey on foot: our fiacre had been one of the first among the deserters and it was impossible for us to lay hands on it. I remember we returned as far as Versailles across the fields with my dear good friends Alfred and Tony Johannot, who both died before their time, brothers in death as well as in life! At Versailles, we took a carriage back to Paris.

But we must relate what became of the general and staff of the _Expeditionary Army of the West._ Pajol mounted his horse at the first sound of firing and rode through the midst, trying vainly to make his voice heard above the hubbub. Bullets were raining round him, but he did not trouble himself about them any more than he would have done had they been hailstones. I once recalled this incident to him and complimented him upon his courage and _sang-froid._

"Bah!" he said, "it would have been a fine thing indeed if an old soldier who had been through all the upheavals of the Empire had taken any notice of a little wall-peppering like that!"

The storm calmed down round him as it did round us, but everyone was not as disposed to retreat as we were: one portion of the Expeditionary Army did not see the fun of having come to Cognières for nothing, and decided to push on to Rambouillet. Pajol looked after these fanatics with a certain feeling of terror and sent Charras and Degousée at their head; but those two leaders soon saw the hopelessness of holding this human flood in bounds and allowed themselves to be borne along with it. They advanced as far as the courtyard of the château de Rambouillet, where the mayor of the town pointed out below his breath, in secrecy, an ammunition waggon, the keys of which he had handed to Marshal Maison. This waggon contained the crown jewels, valued at eighty millions.

"Good!" said Charras: "they must be confided to the care of the people; it is the only way to prevent them coming to harm."

They concocted a little tricoloured flag upon which they inscribed in black letters "_The Crown Jewels_": this flag they planted on the waggon and there the matter ended. Then they proclaimed that any who wished to return in company of, and to guard, the crown jewels could travel in the king's coaches. This device of Degousée's was to prevent them setting fire to these carriages. But part of the volunteers preferred to give themselves the pleasure of shooting, and went off into the royal park in pursuit of deer, does and hinds. Others established themselves in the château, made vast orgies of the scraps found about the kitchens of the ex-king and drank the best wines in the cellars. At last, the most reasonable or, perhaps, the vainest among them, climbed into the royal carriages and drove them back to Paris, with the waggon containing the crown jewels in the middle, treated with as much respect as the Israelites showed to the sacred Ark. The comparison is all the more complete as any imprudent man who had dared to lay a finger tip on this modern ark would, assuredly, have been killed and by a very different method of death from that of which the sacrilegious person died who touched the ancient Ark. The whole procession was extraordinary by the contrasts it afforded between lackeys in grand liveries, magnificent harness, and gilded coaches and men in rags riding in carriages. When it had passed at a solemn slow pace along the quai de Passy, the quai de Billy, the quai de la Conférence and the quai des Tuileries, it crossed the Carrousel and stopped in the courtyard of the Palais-Royal. I need hardly say that every one of these unlucky men who accompanied, escorted and mounted guard over eighty millions' worth of jewels were dying of hunger, not having had anything that day but one portion of bread which had been sent the night before by the Prefect of Seine-et-Oise. And as these bread carts had been pillaged, some had only had a half ration and others, again, only a quarter; some, none at all. The lieutenant-general came down and thanked them, smiled upon them and went up again.

"By Jove!" Charras exclaimed to Charles Ledru, "he might have invited us to dinner with him. I am simply starving!"

"Well," said Ledru, "let us go and dine at Véfour's."

"You are most beguiling! But I haven't a sou.... Have you any money at all?"

"I have fifteen francs."

"Oh! then _Vive la Charte!_"

They went along joyfully together to dine at Véfour's with their arms round one another.

General Pajol, the commander-in-chief of the Expeditionary Army of the West, returned merrily to Paris in a coach which he had picked up at Cognières. Before his departure, the cash-box of the Expeditionary Army had been opened and M. Armand Cassan, the improvised cashier, had paid out to the uttermost farthing for corn that had been cut down, fowls plucked, eggs taken from nests, fruit gathered and wine drunk.

A hundred to one, the peasantry round Cognières did not make a bad thing out of the expedition to Rambouillet.