CHAPTER VI

The artillerymen at the Louvre--Bonapartist plot to take our cannon from us--Distribution of cartridges by Godefroy Cavaignac--The concourse of people outside the Luxembourg when the ministers were sentenced--Departure of the condemned for Vincennes--Defeat of the judges--La Fayette and the riot--Bastide and Commandant Barré on guard with Prosper Mérimée

I returned to the Louvre to learn news and to impart it. It is quite impossible to depict the excitement which reigned in this headquarters of the artillery. Our chief colonel, Joubert, had been taken away from us, and, as the choice of a colonel was not in our hands, he had been replaced by Comte Pernetti.

Comte Pernetti was devoted to the court, and the court, with just cause, mistrusted us, and looked for a chance to disband us.

But we, on our side, every minute kept meeting men whom we had seen upon the barricades, who stopped us to ask--

"Do you recognise us? We were there with you...."

"Yes, I recognise you. What then?"

"Well, if it came to marching against the Palais-Royal as we did against the Tuileries, would you desert us?"

And then we clasped hands and looked at one another with excited eyes and parted, the artillerymen exclaiming--

"The people are rising!" While the populace repeated to one another, "The artillery is with us!"

All these rumours were floating in the air, and seemed to stop like mists at the highest buildings.

The Palais-Royal was only a hundred and fifty yards from the Louvre, in which were twenty-four pieces of artillery, twenty thousand rounds of ammunition, and out of eight hundred artillerymen six hundred were Republicans.

No scheme of conspiracy had been arranged; but it was plainly evident that, if the people rose, the artillery would support them. M. de Montalivet, brother of the minister, warned his brother, about one o'clock that afternoon, that there was a plot arranged for carrying off our guns from us. General La Fayette immediately warned Godefroy Cavaignac of the information that had been given him.

Now, we were quite willing to go with the people to manage our own guns, and incur the risks of a second revolution, as we had run the risks of the first; but the guns were, in a measure, our own property, and we felt responsible for their safe keeping, so we did not incline to have them taken out of our hands.

This rumour of a sudden attack upon the Louvre gained the readier credence as, for two or three days past, there had been much talk of a Bonapartist plot; and, although we were all ready to fight for La Fayette and the Republic, we had no intentions of risking a hair of our heads for Napoléon II. Consequently, Godefroy Cavaignac, being warned, had brought in a bale of two or three hundred cartridges, which he flung on one of the card-tables in the guardroom. Every man then proceeded to fill his pouch and pockets. When I reached the Louvre, the division had been made, but it did not matter, as my pouch had been full since the day I had been summoned to seize the Chamber.

As would be expected, we had no end of spies among us, and I could mention two in particular who received the Cross of the Légion d'honneur for having filled that honourable office in our ranks.

An hour after this distribution of cartridges they were warned at the Palais-Royal. A quarter of an hour after they had been warned there, I received a letter from Oudard, begging me, if I was at the Louvre, to go instantly to his office. I showed the letter to our comrades and asked them what I was to do.

"Go, of course," answered Cavaignac.

"But if they question me--?"

"Tell the truth. If the Bonapartists want to seize our guns we will fire our last cartridges to defend them; but, if the people rise against the Luxembourg, _or even against any other palace_, we will march with them."

"That suits me down to the ground. I like plain speaking."

So I went to the Palais-Royal. The offices were crowded with people; one could feel the excitement running through from the centre to the outlying extremities, and, judging from the state of agitation of the extremities, the centre must have been very much excited. Oudard questioned me; that was the only reason why he had sent for me. I repeated what Cavaignac had told me, word for word. As far as I can recollect, this happened on the evening of the 20th. On the 21st I resumed my post in the rue de Tournon. The crowd was denser than ever: the rue de Tournon, the rues de Seine, des Fossés-Monsieur-le-Prince, Voltaire, the places de l'Odéon, Saint-Michel and l'École-de-Médecine, were filled to overflowing with National Guards and troops of the line. The National Guard had been made to believe that there was a plot for plundering the shops; that the people of the July Revolution, when pulled up by the appointment of the Duc d'Orléans to the Lieutenant-generalship, had vowed to be revenged; now, the bourgeois, ever ready to believe rumours of this kind, had rushed up in masses and uttered terrible threats against pillagers, who had never pillaged either on the 27th, the 28th, or the 29th, but who would have pillaged on the 30th, if the creation of the Lieutenant-generalship had not restored order just in time.

It is but fair to mention that all those excellent fellows, who were waiting there, with rifles at rest, would not have put themselves out to wait unless they had really believed that the trial would end in a sentence of capital punishment.

About two o'clock it was announced that the counsels' speeches were finished and the debates closed, and that sentence was going to be pronounced. There was an intense silence, as though each person was afraid that any sound might prevent him from hearing the great voice, that, no doubt, like that of the angel of the day of judgment, should pronounce the supreme sentence of that High Court of Justice.

Suddenly, some men rushed out of the Luxembourg and dashed down the rue de Tournon crying--

"To death! They are sentenced to death!"

A stupendous uproar went up in response from every ray of that vast constellation of streets that centres in the Luxembourg.

Everybody struggled to make a way out to his own quarter and house to be the first to carry the bitter news. But they soon stayed their progress and the multitude seemed to be driven back again and to press towards the Luxembourg like a stream flowing backwards. Another rumour had got abroad; that the ministers, instead of being condemned to death, had only been sentenced to imprisonment for life; and that the report of the penalty of death had been purposely spread to give them a chance to escape.

The expression of people's faces changed and menacing shouts began to resound; the National Guards struck the pavements with the butt-end of their rifles. They had come to defend the peers but seemed quite ready when they heard the news of the acquittal (and any punishment short of death was acquittal) to attack the peers.

Meanwhile, this is what was happening inside. It was known beforehand, in the Palais-Royal, that the sentence was to be one of imprisonment for life. M. de Montalivet, Minister of the Interior, had received orders from the king to have the ex-ministers conducted safe and sound to Vincennes. The firing of a cannon when they had crossed the drawbridge of the château was to tell the king of their safety. M. de Montalivet had chosen General Falvier and Colonel Lavocat to share this dangerous honour with him. When he saw the four ministers appearing, who had been removed from the hall in order that, according to custom, sentence should be pronounced in their absence--

"Messieurs," said General Falvier to Colonel Lavocat, "take heed! we are going to make history; let us see to it that it redounds to the glory of France!"

A light carriage awaited the prisoners outside the wicket-gate of the petit Luxembourg. It was at this juncture that some men, set there by M. de Montalivet, rushed through the main gateway, shouting, as we have mentioned--

"Death.... They are sentenced to death!"

The prisoners could hear the tremendous shout of triumph that went up at that false report. But the carriage, surrounded by two hundred horsemen, had already set off, and was driving towards the outlying boulevards with the speed and noise of a hurricane.

MM. de Montalivet and Lavocat galloped at each side of the doors.

The judges assembled in the Rubens gallery to deliberate. From there, they could see, as far as eye could reach, the bristling of cannons and bayonets and the seething agitation of the crowds. Night was fast approaching, but the inmates of every house had put lamps in their windows and a bright illumination succeeded the waning daylight, adding a still more lurid character to the scene.

Suddenly, the peers heard an uproar; they saw, one might almost say they _felt_, the terrible agitation going on outside: each wave of that sea, that had broken or was just ready to break, rose higher than the last; and the tide that one thought was at the ebb, returned with greater and more threatening force than ever, beating against the powerfully built walls of the Médicis palace: but the judges were fully aware that no walls or barriers or ramparts could stand against the strength of the ocean; they each tried to find some pretext or other for slipping away: some did not even attempt any excuse for so doing. M. Pasquier, by comparison, was the bravest, and felt ashamed of their retreat.

"It is unseemly!" he exclaimed; "shut the doors!"

But La Layette was informed, at the same time, that the people were rushing upon the palace.

"Messieurs," he said, turning to the three or four persons who awaited his commands, "will you come with me to see what is going on?"

Thus, whilst M. Pasquier was returning to the audience chamber, which was nearly deserted, to pronounce, by the dismal light of a half-lighted chandelier, the sentence condemning the accused to imprisonment for life and punishing the Prince de Polignac to civil death, the man of 1789 and of 1830 was making his appearance in the streets, as calm on that 21 December, as he announced to the people the quasi-absolution of the ex-ministers, as he had been forty years before, when he announced, to the fathers of those who were listening to him then, the flight of the king to Varennes.

For a single instant it seemed as though the noble old man had presumed too much on the magnanimity of the crowd and on his popularity: for the waves of that ocean which, at first, made way respectfully before him, now gathered round him angrily. A threatening growl ran through the multitude, which knew its power and had but to make a move to grind everything to powder or smash everything like glass.

Cries of "Death to the ministers! Put them to death! Put them to death!" were uttered on all sides.

La Fayette tried to speak but loud imprecations drowned his voice.

At last he succeeded in being heard, and, "Citizens, I do not recognise among you the heroes of July!" he said to the people.

"No wonder!" replied a voice; "how could you, seeing you were not on their side!"

It was a critical moment; there were only four or five of us artillerymen all together. M. Sarrans, who accompanied the general, signed to us to come up to him, and thanks to our uniform, which the people held in respect as a sign of the opposition party, we managed to make our way to the general, who, recognising me, took me by the arm; other patriots joined us, and La Fayette found himself surrounded by a party of friends, amongst whom he could breathe freely.

But, on all sides, the National Guards were furious, and were deserting their posts, some loading their rifles, others flinging them down and all crying out treason.

At this moment, the sound of a cannon pierced the air like the explosion of a thunderbolt. It was M. de Montalivet's signal announcing to the king that the ministers were in safety; but we in our ignorance, thought it was a signal sent us by our comrades in the Louvre; we left the general and, drawing our poinards, we rushed across the Pont Neuf, crying: "To arms!" At our shouts and the sight of our uniform and the naked swords, the people opened way for us at once and soon began running in all directions, yelling: "To arms!" We reached the Louvre just as the porters were closing the gates and, pushing back both keepers and gates, we entered by storm. Let them shut the gates behind us, once inside what would it matter? There were about six hundred artillerymen inside the Louvre. I flew into the guardroom on the left of the entrance by the gateway in the place Saint-Germain l'Auxerrois.

The news of the discharge of the ministers was already known and had produced its effect. Every one looked as though he were walking upon a volcano. I saw Adjutant Richy go up to Bastide and whisper something into his ear.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Bastide.

"See for yourself, then," Richy added.

Bastide went out hurriedly and, almost immediately after, we heard him shout: "Help, men of the Third Artillery!"

But before he had time to cross the threshold of the guardroom he had climbed over the park chains and was making straight for a group of men, who, in spite of the sentry's orders, had got into the enclosure reserved for the guns.

"Out of the park!" shrieked Bastide; "out of the park instantly or I will put my sword through the bodies of every one of you!"

"Captain Bastide," said one of the men to whom he had addressed his threat, "I am Commandant Barré ..."

"If you are the very devil himself it makes no difference! Our orders are that no one shall enter the park, so out you go!"

"Excuse me," said Barré, "but I should much like to know who is in command here, you or I?"

"Whoever is the stronger commands here at present.... I do not recognise you.... Help, artillerymen!"

Fifty of us surrounded Bastide with poinards in hand. Several had found time to take their loaded muskets from their racks. Barré gave in to us.

"What do you want?" he asked.

"To take any gun that comes handiest and make it ready for firing!" exclaimed Bastide.

We flung ourselves on the first that came; but, at the third revolution of the wheels, the washer broke and the wheel came off.

"I want you to fetch me the linch-pins of the guns you have just carried off."

"Really ..."

"Those linch-pins, or, I repeat, I will pass my sword through your body!"

Barré emptied a sack in which some ten linch-pins had been already put. We rushed at them and put our guns in order again.

"Good," said Bastide. "Now, out of the park!"

Every one of them went out and Barré went straight off to offer his command to Comte Pernetti, who declined to take it.

Bastide left me to keep guard over the park with Mérimée: our orders were to fire on anybody who came near it, and who, at our second _qui vive_, did not come up at command.

From that hour on sentry-duty (they had reduced the length of sentry hours to one, on account of the gravity of events) dated my acquaintance with Mérimée; we conversed part of the time, and strange to say, under those circumstances, of art and literature and architecture.

Ten years later, Mérimée, who, no doubt, recollecting what he had wished to tell me that night, namely, that I had the most dramatic imagination he had ever come across, thought fit to suggest to M. de Rémusat, then Minister of the Interior, that I should be asked to write a comedy for the Théâtre-Français.

M. de Rémusat wrote to ask me for a play, enclosing an order for an advance of five thousand francs. A month afterwards, _Un Marriage sous Louis XV._ was composed, read and rejected by the Théâtre-Français. In due order, I will relate the story of _Un Manage sous Louis XV._ (the younger brother of _Antony_) at greater length; it proved as difficult to launch as _Antony._ But, meanwhile, let us return to that night at the Louvre.