THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY LICbEd .1! I ^■^^w:':^m^^^^:mm 5;s 55.'°?-^.'-- *■ University of Illinois Library^ %\>^ 'V: - » U'V I JAW 2 1986 DcC 1 8 1987 - \ ^m jui 1 fe Bsf AUG 1 B 1992 bu« APR I ' ' P —H41 4 f :rary ^ THE UNIVERSh/ OF ILUKOk £• A L I' H () N .^ K \) E I. A M A R T 1 N V. . \ HISTORY OF TEE FRENCH REVOLUTION OF 1848. BY A. DE LAMARTINE. Quilibel nautarum, reclorumque trancjuiUo nmri gubemare potest: ubi s(Eva ortu tem- pestu est, ac lurbato mari, vento rapilur navia, turn viris opus est. Address of Fabiua to the Senatt, TRANSLATED BY PRANCIS A. DURIVAGE AND WILLIAM S. CHASE. FIRST AMERICAN EDITION. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. BOSTON: PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & COMPANY. 110 Washington Street. 1851. Entered according to a:t of Congress, in the year IS49, by PHILLIPS, SAMPSON & CO., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. Stereotyped by HOBART & ROBBINS; NEW ENGLAND TYPE AND STEREOTYPE FOtJNDBRT, B O S T O ?« . PUBLISHERS' ADVERTISEMENT. The announcement of a History of the Revolution of 1848, by the author of Les Girondins, who has been admired as the hero of that great event, was speedily followed by the publication of the book at Paris. An early copy of the work having been placed by us in the hands of the translators, they commenced their task at short notice, and under a pledge of rapid execution. Yet, in fulfilling the latter con dition, they were to endeavor conscientiously to avoid injustice to the original. As far as possible, they have aimed to render every phrase of the historian by its equivalent in English, and not a line of his has been suppressed. The difficulties encountered can be fully appreciated only by those who are aware how completely the resources of ths French, that flexible and copious language, have been exhausted by the ingenuity and genius of Lamartine, and how difficult it is to grasp some of his poetical and philosophical ideas and expressions. With these brief remarks, this brilliant contribution to the histori- cal literature of the nineteenth century is submitted, in a translated form, to the candor and discerame at af the American public. Boston, August, 1849. 131 1 4 i 5 HISTOEY OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. BOOK I. The revolutions of the human mind are slow, like the eras of the life of nations. They resemble the phenomena of vege- tation, which enlarges the plant without the naked eye being able to measure its growth during its development. God has proportioned this period of growth, in all beings, to the period of duration which he assigns them. Men, who are to live an hundred years, continue growing till the age of twenty-five, and even upwards. Nations, which are to live two or three thousand years, have revolutions of development, of infancy, youth, manhood, and lastly old age, which do not embrace fewer than two or three centuries. The difficulty with the vulgar, in respect to these convulsive phenomena of popular revolutions, is to distinguish crises of growth from crises of decadence, youth from old age, life from death. Superficial philosophers herein deceive themselves and say : such a nation is in its decadence, because its old institutions are crumbling to pieces ; it is sure of dissolution, because it is growing young. This opinion was ^pressed at the commence- ment of the French revolution, at the moment when absolute monarchy expired. It was heard on the occasion of the deca- dence of feudality. It was heard on the fall of theocracy. We hear it now at the fall of the constitutional monarchy. This is an error ; France is in her youth, and will yet em- ploy many forms of government before exhausting the strong intellectual life with which God has endowed the French race. Still there is a certain method of avoiding self-deception with regard to the character of these crises, and it lies in the consid- 1* 2 HISTORY OF THE eration of what is the element which predominates in a revolu tion. If revolutions are the product of a vice, or a personality, of the crimes or isolated grandeur of one man, of an individual or national ambition, of the rivalry of two dynasties aspiring to a throne, of a thirst for conquest, blood, or even unjust glory, in the nation, particularly of hatred between classes of citizens ; such revolutions are preludes of decadence, and signs of decom- position and death, in a human race. If revolutions are the fruit of a moral idea, of a reason, a logic, a sentiment, an aspi- ration towards a better order of government and society, even if a blind and deaf one ; of a thirst for development and perfec- tion in the relations of citizens to each other, or of the nation to other nations ; if they are an elevated ideal, instead of being an abject passion ; such revolutions exhibit, even in their catas- trophes and transitory errors, a strength, youth and vitality, which promise long and glorious periods of growth to races. Now such was the character of the French revolution of 17S9 ; and such is that of the second French revolution of 1848. The revolution of 1848 is merely a continuance of the former, with fewer elements of disorder, and more elements of progress. In both, it was a moral idea which produced the explosion in the world. This idea is the people ; the people who, in 1798, freed themselves from the servitude, ignorance, privileges and prejudices of absolute monarchy ; the people who, in 1848, freed themselves from the oligarchy of a small number, and a mon- archy representing in too limited a manner the development of right, and the interest of the masses in the government. Now whatever difficulties this idea of the people, and the regular accession of the masses to political affairs, a democratic phe- nomenon of such novelty, may present to statesmen, this idea, we say, being a moral truth with every evidence for the mind and heart of the philosopher, the revolution which sustains and agitates this idea in its bosom is a revolution of life, and not a revolution of death. God lends it his aid, and the people will emerge from it increased in right, strength, and virtue. It may falter on the way, through the ignorance of the masses, the impatience of the people, the factions and sophistries of men wishing to substitute their personality for the people them- selves ; but it will end by removing these men, by detecting these sophistries, and by developing the germ of reason, jus- tice, and virtue, which God has sown in the blood of the French family. 7t was in this second crisis of the revolution of our country that I bore a part, and which I will now attempt REVOLUTION OF 1848. to der.neate, that it may serve the people by showing them their own iinage in one of the noblest hours of their history, and that it may command honor for our time in the ages of posterity. II. I will briefly state, what others will recount with more am- plification and at leisure, the causes of this revolution. I hasten to the narrative. The revo'ution from 1789 to 1800 had wearied France and the whole world by its debates, its convulsions, its grandeur, and its crimes. By a sad but natural reaction, France had become enamored of the antithesis of liberty, of the despotism of a soldier of genius. I employ the word genius, but I will explain myself ; I mean nothing but a genius for victory and a genius for despotism. Napoleon, who possessed these talents of the camp, was very far from having the genius of society. Had he possessed it, he would have made the revolution march orderly beneath his eagles. He made it recoil, and drove it back upon the middle ages. He either betrayed his age, or did not comprehend it. His reign was nothing but a severe disci- pline imposed upon a nation. He was to France what fatality is to free will, an adored and sublime degradation, but still a degradation. A nation is great only in itself, never in the greatness of him who crushes in ruling it; and the greater Na- poleon became, the more were liberty and philosophy belittled. After the fall of Napoleon, the exiled brothers of Louis XVI. returned, somewhat impressed with the ideas of 1789, and some- what prepared for liberty by their long sojourn in England among a free people. A strange but astonishing fact was the fall of the counter-revolution from the throne with Napoleon, achieved by the hands of foreigners, and the reentrance into France of the revolution of '89, with the old princes of the proscribed race of Bourbons. It was this which insured them a welcome with the constitutional charter in their hands. France recognized there the doctrines of Mirabeau and the legacy of the Constituent Assembly. Louis XVIII. observed it . kilfuUy, and died in peace beneath the shadow of the idea of 89. The ancestral memories of Charles X. were too vivid. He thought he could sport with the charter which contained all of the revolution which remained in France. He grew old ard died in exile, involving in his fate his grandson, who was pi nished in his cradle 'or the antiquated ideas and mental levity of his grandfather. 4 HISTORY OF THE III. Louis Philippe of Orleans was called to the throne as the living and crowned revolution of 1789. This prince yet lives, but there is as wide a space between the throne and exile as between life and death, and I shall speak of him with the same freedom as if he had ceased to exist. Living, I did not flatter him. I held myself at a respectful distance from his kingdom and his favors ; and, exiled and dead to power, I will not insult him. Exile and years command more respect than even the grave, from the hearts of men. France had the right to suffer him to fall from the throne. History, in my opinion, will have neither the right of hating nor that of disdaining him. The man occupies a large space by himself in his reign, and his reign will fill a great space also in history. There is nothing so mean as to dwarf one's enemies. The people w^ho have suc- ceeded Louis Philippe have no need of this subterfuge of kings, who always insult their predecessors. The people are great enough to measure themselves with a dethroned king, and to concede his full height to the sovereign they have displaced. IV. Louis Philippe of Orleans was of a revolutionary race, though a prince of the blood. His father had plunged into the most deplorable excesses of the Convention. He had made himself popular, not through the glory, but the atrocity, of this epoch; and the faults of the father were the pledges of the son in the eyes of the revolution of 1830. Still Louis Philippe was too honest and adroit a man to redeem the sanguinaiy promise of his name to the revolution which proclaimed him king. Nature had made this prince a man of probity and moderation ; exile and experience had made him a politician. The difficulty of his part, as a prince among democrats and democrat among princes, in the commencement of his life, had rendered him supple to circumstances, patient in events, and temporizing with fortune. He seemed to fore- see that destiny owed him a throne. In the mean while, he «>njoyed the pleasures and virtues of family relations in a retired, modest, and irreproachable domestic life. He had always a tribute of respect for the reigning monarch, and a smile of intel- ligence for the opposition, without, however, encouraging them ])y any criminal complicity. Studious, thoughtful, and exceed- REVOLUTION OF 1S43. 5 jngly well informed on all points touching the interior admin- istration of empires; profoundly versed in history; a diplomatist equal to Mazarinor Talleyrand; possessed of a fluent and inex- haustible elocution, which resembled eloquence as much as conversation can resemble oratory ; a model for husbands, an example for fathers, in the midst of a nation which loves to see good morals seated on the throne ; gentle, humane and peaceable; brave by birth but abhorring bloodshed ; it might be said that nature and art had endowed him with all the qualities which make up a popular king, with one exception : — greatness. He supplied this deficiency of greatness, by a secondary quality, which minds of middle stature admire, and great men despise ; — adroitness. He both used it and abused it. Some acts of this political adroitness degraded him from his charac- ter to tricks which would have been censured in a private individual. What was it in a king? Such was the dis- grace he permitted his ministers to cast upon a princess of his own house. The Duchess de Berry, his niece, contested the throne with him ; he allowed the veil to be torn from the pri- vacy of her life as a woman. If this act, the most immoral of his reign, was committed to prevent the effusion of blood, and discountenance civil war, we must pity him ; if it was tolerated by personal ambition, we must stigmatize him. ^r> V VI. Three parties were in agitation round his throne ; the repub- lican party, whom the timid indecision of Lafayette had despoiled of the republic in 1830 ; the legitimist party, which adored the elder branch of the Bourbons as a dogma, and abhorred the younger branch as a profanation of the monarchy; and finally, the liberal and constitutional party, composed of the immense majority of the nation. This party saw in Louis Philippe the li\'ing bargain between royalty and the republic, the last form of an hereditary dynasty, and the last hope of monarchy. It does not enter into our plan to relate how this prince assailed the republicans, who did not cease to conspire against his reign, while fanatics plotted against his life ; how he an- nulled t) 3 legitimists, who remained for eighteeoi ve strongly suspected in opinion, to dare and to act alone, were to have for auxiliaries the very friends of the dynasty, the founders of the throne of July, the authors of the repressive laws, and at least half of the national guard and the electors. Where would the country halt when once in motion ? Would it be at a simple change of ministrj- ? Would it be at an insignificant addition of privileged electors to the two hundred thousand electors, who, of themselves, expressed the sovereignty of the people? — Would it be at an abdication of the king? — Would it be at the regency of a woman, or a prince, during the minority of a child ? It mat- tered little. All these eventualities would help their cause. They hastened to subscribe to the banquet of Paris. The men of the dynastic opposition dared not repulse the republi- cans. They would have repulsed in them all the throng, all the noise, all the turbulence, all the menace of their demon- strations. The people would be alienated by not seeing among them their friends and tribunes. The cause appeared to be common. The cry was the same cry, Vive la Reforme. A somewhat Punic coalition was achieved in 1S39, by antagonistic opposition in the Chamber and the press, between M. Guizot and M. Thiers, M. Barrot and M. Berryer, M. Dufaure and M. Garnier Pages, the republicans and the royal- ists. This coalition had done violence to the constitutional king, placed M. Thiers in power, humbled the sincere opposi- tion, ruined our foreign affairs in 1S40, and demoralized the representative government. The same parties, with the excep- tion of M. Berryer and M. Dufaure, committed the same fault against the ministry of M. Guizot in 1S48. They united to overthrow, without power of union to reconstruct. Coalitions of this nature can logically produce only ruins. It is their impo- 16 HISTORY OF THE tence for good which makes them immoral. Revohitions alone can profit by them. And rightfully they profit by them. The republic is the voluntary work of the parliamentary coalition of 1S40, and of the agitation coalition of 1848 ; M. Guizot and M. Thiers, in forming the first, Messieurs Duvergier de Hau- ranne, Barrot, and their friends, in forming the second, were unwittingly the real authors of the republic. The banquet of Paris was the signal for a series of opposi- tion banquets in the principal cities of the kingdom. In some, the republican and dynastic agitators were united, and con- cealed, with vague and elastic expressions, the incongruities of their programme. In some others, as at Lille, Dijon, Chalons, and Autun, they separated frankly. M. Odilon Barrot and his friends, and M. Ledru RoUin and his, refused to lend themselves to a hypocritical concert. Each moved towards his object, one to the moderate and monarchical reform of the electoral law, and tho other to the radical reform of govern- ment, in other words, the repubHc. This schism first characterized the banquet of Lille. M. Barrot refused to take a seat there until a sign of constitutional adhesion to the monarch, in the form of a toast to the king, was given. This decision was still further defined at Dijon, and at Chalons. M. Flocon and M. Ledru RoUin there made speeches, the precursors of a revolution already accomplished in the minds of their partisans. A few men of the parliamentary opposition, of isolated opinions, such as Messieurs Thiers, Dufaure, and Lamartine^ scrupulously abstained from appearing at these banquets. These confused and turbulent demonstrations doubtless seemed to them, either not to reach or to go beyond the limits of their opposition. They feared to associate themselves by their presence, the latter to a revolution, the former to an ambitious and purely ministerial opposition. They thus, like many other members of the Chamber, wrapped themselves in their con- science and their individuality. XV. Still another banquet created a strong sensation in France at the same period. This was the banquet offered to M. de Lamartine, on his return from the Chamber, by his fellow- citizens of Macon. The object of this banquet was not politi- cal. M. de Lamartine had refused to be present at the reform REVOLUTION OF 1843. 17 banquets, which were, according to Hm, too vague and indefi- nite in their object. Opposed to the parliamentary coalition of 1S38 and 1S40, he could not, without falsifying himself, associate himself with the parliamentary and agitating coalition of 1S47. He moved onward to an end determined in his own mind. It was not in his nature to throw himself into a mtUe of opposition without a common chart, to move with adversa- ries towards an unknown object. He had frankly expressed this reserve in articles in the Bieii Public of Macon, a small journal, loudly echoed and reechoed by all the press of Paris and the departments. The object of the banquet of Macon was to congratulate M. de Lamartine, who was fraternally loved by his fellow-citizens, on the success of the History of the Girondiiis, which M. de Lamartine had recently published. The book had been much read, not only in France, but throughout all Europe. In Germany, Italy, and Spain, editions and translations of the Histoire des Girondins were multiplied as the daily aliment of souls. It moved hearts, it induced minds to reflect, it carried back the imagination towards that great epoch and those great principles which the ISth century, rich in presages, and laden with the future, wished to bequeath in dying to the world, to deliver it from tyranny and prejudice. He washed away the blood criminally shed by the anger, am- bition or baseness of the actors in the drama of the republic. He flattered none of the demagogues, he excused nothing- in the executioners, he compassionated all in the victims. But his pity for the vanquished did not blind him. He commis- erated the men, he wept for the women, he adored philosophy and liberty. The stream of blood from the scafiblds did not hide from him the holy truths which rose upon the future from behind the smoke of the execrable holocaust. He courageously swept away the cloud. He punished the murderers historically. He restored its right and its innocence to the new idea purged of the crimes of its followers, he avenged it for the crime which had sullied under pretext of serving it. He returned oppro- brium on the demagogues, glory on the revolution. XVI. In reply to an address of the Mayor of Macon, M. Roland, a young man who dared to compromise his official station by acknowledging Lis opinions and political friendship, M. de 18 HISTORY OF THE Lamartine seized the opportunity of revealing once more his thoughts to his country. He spoke like a man devoted, soul and heart, to the cause of the liberty of the human race, and the progress of organized democracy. " Fellow-citizens and friends," said he, " before replying to the impatience which you testify, permit me, in the first place, to thank you for the patience and fortitude which have enabled you, standing unmoved, to resist the fury of the storm, the blaze of the lightning, and the peals of thunder, under this crumbling roof and these torn tents. You show that you are indeed the children of those Gauls who exclaimed, in yet more serious circumstances, that if the arch of heaven should cave in they would sustain it on their lance-points. * # # # " But, gentlemen, let us go at once to the bottom of this demonstration. My book required an ending, and you have made one. The end is that France feels at once the necessity of studying the spirit of her revolution, of plunging again into her principles, purified and separated from the excesses which disfigure them, and the blood which soiled them, and deriving from the past lessons for the present and the future. " Yes, to seek, after half a century, beneath the yet warm ashes of events, beneath the still stirring dust of the dead, the primitive and, I hope, immortal spark which kindled in the soul of a great people that ardent flame with which the whole world was first enlightened, then embraced, then partially consumed ; to rekindle, 1 say, this flame, too feeble in the heart of the gen- erations which succeed us, to cherish it, lest it should forever fade, and leave France and Europe a second time in the obscurity of the dark ages ; to watch over it and purify it also, lest its light should degenerate by compression, even into explosion, conflagration, and ruin — this is the idea of the book ! this is the idea of the time ! Will you deny me if I add — and this is your idea ? " [No ! no !) • * # # # " From the age of political reason, that is to say, from the age when we form our own opinions, after having stammered, like children, the opinions and prejudices of our nurses, I said to myself — What, then, is the French revolution ? "Is the French revoluLion, as the adorers of the past say, a great sedition of a nation disturbed for no reason, and destroy- ing, in their insensate convulsions, their church, their monarchy, their classes, their institutions, their nationality, and even REVOLUTION OF 1843. 19 rending the map of Europe ? No I the revolution has not been a miserable sedition of France ; for a sedition subsides as it rises, and leaves nothing but corpses and ruins behind it. The revolution has left scaffolds and ruins, it is true ; therein is its remorse : but it has also left a doctrine ; it has left a spirit which will be enduring and perpetual so long as human reason shall exist. # ^ * # " The first dogma of the beneficent revolution which this philosophy would give prevalence to in the world is peace ! the extinction of international animosities, the fraternity of nations. We are approaching this condition — we enjoy peace. I am not among those who reject even the blessings of the govern- ments they assail. For the future, peace will be, according to me, the glorious amnesty of this government to balance its other errors. As historian or deputy, man or philosopher, I shall always sustain peace, with or against government, and you will always think with me. War is but wholesale murder, — wholesale murder is not progress." [Prolonged applause.) ^ tP ^ 7v- " Ah ! if we continue for a few years more to abandon, through our own inconstancy, all the ground gained by French ideas, let us beware ! We must not then desert nor leave shamefully behind us not only all progress, all intelli- gence, all the conquests of the modern intellect ; not only our name, our honor, our intellectual rank, and our initiative influ- ence upon nations ; but the memory and blood of the thousands of men, combatants or victims, who have died to make these victories good to us I The savage tribes of America say to the European invaders who would drive them from their native soil : * If you would have us give place to you, at least suffer us to carry off the bones of our fathers ! ' The bones of our fathers are the truths, the intelligence they have conquered from the world, which a reaction of opinion, always on the increase, but destined finally to terminate, would compel us to repudiate. " But once again, will they succeed ? Let us examme. History teaches everything, even the future. Experience is the only prophecy of wise men ! " And, in the first place, let us not be too much alarmed at reactions. They are the movement, the ebb and flow, of the human mind. Permit me to make use of an illustration bor- rowed from those instruments of war which many of you have I 20 mSTORY OF THE handled, on the land and on the ocean, during the conflicts of liberty. When pieces of cannon have been discharged, and belched their contents on our fields of battle, they experience, from the very revulsion of their explosion, a movement which forces them back. This is what artillerists call the recoil of the cannon. Well, political reactions are nothing but this recoil of guns in artillery. Keactions are the recoil of ideas. It seems as if the human mind, stunned, as it were, by the new truths which revolutions accomplished in its name have launched upon the world, falls back and retires basely from the ground which it has conquered. But this is only a temporary move- ment. Gentlemen, other hands return to reload this pacific artillery of the human mind, and new discharges, not of balls, but of ideas, restore their empire to truths which seem to have been abandoned or subdued. ^ ^ 'rr 'TT " We will not, therefore, give ourselves much concern respecting the duration of these reactions, but will examine what comes to pass when they have achieved their irregular and retrograde movement. In my opinion, it is the fol» lowing : — " If the royalty, nominally monarchical, but really democratic, adopted by France in 1830, understands that it is only the sovereignty of the people seated above the electoral tempests, and crowned in the person of an individual, to represent the summit of public affairs, the unity and perpetuity of national power; if modern royalty, delegated by the people, and so widely differing from ancient royalty, the property of the throne, regards itself as a magistracy adorned by a title which has changed its meaning in the language of mankind ; if it con- fines to being an honored regulator of the mechanism of govern- ment, marking and controlling the efforts of the general will, without ever constraining, changing, falsifying, or corrupting them in their source, which is opinion ; if it content itself with being, in its own eyes, like the tablets of old demolished temples which the ancients replaced as evidence in the construction of new temples, to deceive the superstitious homage of the crowd, and impress something of traditionary antiquity on the modern edifice ; representative royalty will last long enough to accom- plish its work of preparation and business, and the duration of its services will be to our children the exact measure of the duration of its existence." {Yes ! yes I) * # # # # # REVOLUTION OF 1848. 21 " But let us hope better of the wisdom of governments en- lightened, too late perhaps, but in time, we trust, for their own interests. Let us hope better of the probity and energy of the public mind, which seems for a long time to have entertained presentiments of fear or safety ! May the presentiments which we ourselves feel be warnings, and not menaces, to the public authorities ! We are not inspired by the spirit of faction ! No factious idea enters our thoughts. We do not wish to compose a faction — we compose opinion, for it is nobler, stronger, and more invincible. {Yes ! yes I) Well, gentlemen, symptoms of improvement in public opinion strike me, and will perhaps strike you. " Who shall decide between these two parties ? Who shaU be the judge ? Shall we have, as in our first struggles, violence, oppression and death ? No, gentlemen ! let us give thanks to our fathers — it shall be liberty which they have bequeathed to us, liberty which now has its own arms, its pacific arms, to develop itself without anger and excess. (Applause.) " Therefore shall we triumph — be sure of it ! "And if you ask what is the moral force which shall bend the government beneath the will of the nation, I will answer you ; it is the sovereignty of ideas, the royalty of mind, the republic, the true republic of intelligence, in one word — opinion — that mod- ern power whose very name was unknown to antiquity. Gen- tlemen, public opinion was born on the very day when Gut- tenberg, whom I have styled the artificer of a new world, invented, by printing, the multiplication and indefinite commu- nication of thought and human reason. This incompressible power of opinion needs not for its sway either the brand of vengeance, the sword of justice, or the scafTold of terror. It holds in its hands the equilibrium between ideas and institu- tions, the balance of the human mind. In one of the scales of this balance — understand it well — will be for a long time placed, mental superstitions, prejudices self-styled useful, the divine right of kings, distinctions of right among classes, international animosities, the spirit of conquest, the venal alliance of church and state, the censorship of thought, the silence of tribunes, and the ignorance and systematic degradation of the masses. " In the other scale, we ourselves, gentlemen, will place the lightest and most impalpable thing of all that God has created — light, a little of that light which the French revolution evolved at the close of the last century, from a volcano, doubt- less, but from a volcano of truth." [Prolonged applause.) 3 22 BISTORT or TEE xvn. This address, reproduced on the following day by all the papers, sufficiently expressed the actual ideas of the country; a vague discontent generated by the systc-m of the crown, which externally sacrificed the legitimate interests of France to the ambition of the Orleans dynasty ; a philosophical and rational lore of democratic principles surrendered to an oligarchy con- fined to two or three hundred thousand electors, easily con- quered or corrupted by the niinistry ; a sincere and almost universal dread of a revolution which would plunge die countrv into an uncertain future ; the desire of having the progress of the democratic principle accomplished by an enlarged and strengthened representative government, and an appeal to mod- erate energ}- on the part of the people, and to prudence and reflection on the part of the government. This discourse did not transcend the limits which the conscience of the orator imposed on him. The fruits and promises of the first revolu- tion without a new revolution, if possible, but the spirit of the revolution preserved and vivified by institutions, on pain of shame for France, and pain of death for the ideas which make up the grandeur and sanctity of the human mind, — such was the faithful interpretation of the public sentiment, the prophetic cry of the national soul. All which went beyond this language went beyond the times. ^L de Lamartine, without fearing to compromise the popu- larity" which he then enjoyed in his department, and in France, had the courage, a few daj-s afterwards, to contend boldly against the doctrines which M. Ledru Rollin and his friends had expressed at the revolutionari- banquet of Dijon, the sym- Dols, as they said, of 1793, planted by the same party at'the banquet of Chalons, and the anti-social predictions for which a young orator had secured applause at the Communist banquet of Autun. " These banquets," said M. de Lamartine, alluding to those of Dijon and Chalons, " are the tocsin of opinion. Sometimes they strike fairly, at other times they break the metal. There are, in these manifestations, words which make the earth trem- ble, and reminiscences which recall what the present democ- racy ought to obliterate. Why tear from a period the things BE VOLUTION OF 1S4=. 23 which ought to be buried with the period itself? WTiy these imitations, we might ahmost say, these parodies, of 1793 ? Has libert)' a liven', as there was a liven,- of courts ? For my part, I assert that this is not only a puerilit)', but an absurdity. The intelligent and sensible democracy of the future is thus dis- gnised in the semblance and color of the democracy of the past. This disguises the public mind, and, in thus disguising, ren- ders it undistinguishable. This cruelly recalls to some the pique through which their fathers perished ; to others, their alienated property ; to others yet, their desecrated temples ; to all, the days of sadness, mourning and terror, which left a shadow on the land. Ever)' epoch should be consistent with itself. We are not in 1793; we are in 1S47; that is to say, we are a nation which has crossed the Red Sea, and which would not recross it anew ; a nation which has set foot upon the shore, and would still move onward, but which would ad- vance in order and peace to democratic institutions ; a nation which would warn its mistaken government, but which, in rais- insT its voice to make it audible, would terrify neither peaceful citizens, nor honest interests, nor legitimate opinions. Let us, members of the regular democracy, be wan,'. If we are con- founded with demagogues, we shall be ruined in public opinion. It will be said of us — ' They wear their liver}', hence they have their madness !' " XIX. In regard to the Communist banquet of Autun, M. de La- manine, on the 14th of November, expressed himself with the same freedom : " Each idea has its limits," cried he, " limits which it must not pass, on pain of being misconstrued, and of bearing the just penalty of its disguise by submitting to the disgrace which is anached to other ideas. Do you belong to the democratic, but loyal, moderate and patient opposition ? Come with us. Are you factious ? Go and conspire in darkness. Are you Com- munists ? Go and applaud at the banquet of Autun. Until all this matter is cleared up, we will remain where we are. For we would recall the countrj'' to political life, give due weight to public opinion, create a decent democracy, capable of self-enlightenment, of restraining itself by its own dignity, of meeting without alarming or instilting wealth, or miserj', or aristocracy, or bourgeoisie, or the people, or religion, or family. 24 HISTORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1S48. or property ; in fine, we would prepare for France assemblies worthy of its own great National Assemblies, and comitia worthy of Athens and Rome ; but we would not reopen the Club of Jacobins ! " XX. Durins: these controversies between men who wished to im- prove and men who wished to destroy, other manifestations, inspired and directed by royalist ideas, were multiplying in the north of the kino-dom. There M. Odilon Barrot obtained a O hearing for language grave, thoughtful and sincere, but re- served, like his own character. He, as well as his friends, kindled the flame of parliamentary opposition. Still these addresses raised more indignation against the government than a banquet-hall could contain. The people listened at the doors, applauded the orators, and escorted them at their entrance or departure from towns. They were accustomed to place them- selves between ministers and tribunes. By the end of autumn the promoters of these anti-ministerial feelings in vain essayed to moderate them. They had set out to swell the strength of M. Thiers, M. Barrot, and the opposition ; they had been re- cruiting for the revolution. The impulse of the people always goes beyond the goal assigned by politicians. Reason or ambi- tion calculate — passion inundates. The people are always the embodiment of passion. The dynastic opposition merely wished a change of ministers to be effected by the pressure of masses ; the people were already planning a change of govern- ment. Behind the people, the most radical sects dreamed of a complete overthrow of society. SEs:: BOOK II I. Such was the mental condition of France at the close of 1847, when the king- convoked the Chambers. The ministry and the king, astonished but not alarmed at these demonstra- tions of opinion, which they regarded as purely factious, as a verbal and ostentatious discontent, which, in their opinion, had no actual existence in the minds of men, confided in the im- mense majority possessed by the government in the Chambers, in the fidelity of an army commanded by the princes, and in the innumerable interests of order, property, industry, and com- merce, which were all repugnant to a change. A material government, they despised the intellectual elements of opposi- tion. In their view, M. Odilon Barrot was only a man gifted with eloquence, but devoid of will ; M. Ledni Rollin, a man of noisy popularity, employing the threat of a republic, without believing in it, to discountenance and mislead the opposition ; the press and the banquets were only a conspiracy of ambitious men, appealing to the passions of the public streets to avenge their impotence in the popular representation. M. Guizot was encouraged by the self-confidence and disdain of the vulgar which formed the basis of his nature ; M. Du- chatel, by his skilful management of parliamentary parties, and the curb of the votes which he held in his supple hands ; and the king, by his importance to France in 1830, by his bar- gain with the European authorities, who confided in the sta- bility of his throne, and, finally, by the constant smile of for- tune, which, by dint of serving and dazzling, ended by blinding him. These three men, in whom rested the prestige, the strength and skill of the cabinet, expected, with unyielding confidence, that all this movement and noise of opposition would perish at the foot of the throne and the tribune, before the eloquence of M. Guizot, the tactics of M. Duchatel, and the ancient authority of the king. They did not doubt that the majority in the two Chambers would pronounce a conspicu- 3* 26 HISTORY OF THE ous denunciation against the agitation and the threats of par- ties. They resolved themselves to provoke this denunciation, by alluding, in the address of the king to the Chambers, to the conduct of the deputies and peers who had been present at the reform banquets. 11. The address of the king to the Chambers contained a phrase which designated the associates of the reform banquets as hostile or blind. There were many of them in the Chamber of Deputies, and some in the Chamber of Peers. These imprudent ' words served as the leading text in the discussion of the address. It was warm, keen, and angry. M. Thiers stigmatized the foreign policy which surrendered Italy and Switzerland. M. de Lamartine depicted, from his point of view, the exclusively dynastic policy ; Austrian at Rome, priestly at Berne, Russian at Cracovia, and everywhere counter-revolutionary. On the question of the banquets, M. Odilon Barrot spoke with the authority of a constitutional leader of the opposition. Lamar- tine, though he was not personally associated with the ban- quets, maintained that the ministry ought to regulate, and not brutally suppress, the exercise of the right of meeting. " No, gentlemen," he replied to the ministers, " you deceive yourselves ; here is no artificial agitation, as you describe it. This furnace is not fanned by the breath of man. It would not have had this universality and this character which alarm you justly now. Whence comes this phenomenon in a country which has been patient for seventeen years ? This phenome- non is generated, because the nation has at last estimated the obstinacy of the false system by which it has been dragged beyond all its interior lines, beyond its whole policy, dignity, and even safety, to the exterior. But now, when, after having maturely reflected, it has finally adopted its convictions ; when it has seen this obstinate system of interior legal restriction, of an actual oligarchy, established in the place of the great regular democracy promised by 1830 ; when it has seen this system changing hands without chano-incr measures — still the same things under different men ; when it has seen corruption ascend- ing this year, like an impure wave, to the verj- foot of public power, the scum of the most sordid vices rising to the surface of political society, instead of sinking, as it commonly does, to the lees of nations ; when it has seen the foreign policy of the REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 27 last eighteen years, a policy to which you haa yourseives laboriously and nobly attached it, the policy of peace, suddenly sapped by your own hands, for a family advantage, a dynastic interest, by Spanish marriages ; when it has witnessed the sacrifices of its natural and constitutional alliances to repug- nant alliances with the oppressive enemies of Switzerland and Italy ; when it has finally seen France systematically, as it were, involved by you in a cordon of counter-revolutions, then indeed has it been agitated ; and it has shown, by its very emotion, that it is a wise and prudent countr}'. " And what would you have thought, what would you have said, if, instead of manifesting this anxiety and agitation in broad day-light, it had waited, in perfidious silence, till the seeds of disatfection, sown by you through so many years, had germinated in the minds of the people ; and that, on a given day, instead of this constitutional agitation, instead of this opinion which finds open utterance, you had had mines exploding everywhere beneath the feet of government ? Then you might have brought accusations; then you might have said, You act like factious men and conspirators — you deceive the govern- ment by hiding in perfidious silence the discontent of public opinion. This is what you condemn — and for this you threaten, not to employ those evident laws to which every good citizen pays obeisance, but, without laws, with at least equivo- cal laws, — shall I say against all existing laws ? — you menace the representatives themselves with placing the hand of the police on the lips of the nation ! " The government had, and has yet, the arm of the law. Knowing that it was not armed by former legislation against a new fact presented with this universality and intensity through- out the country, it might present a libera] and regulating law, establishing but not annihilating the right; a law which we will discuss loyally, and to which, when it shall have been enacted, we will yield obedience, as every good citizen is bound to do." The great majority of the Chamber applauded his words, and asked for the presentation of a law on the right of assem- bling (reunio7i). The conservatives themselves felt the danger of the prolonged defiance of the ministers to the representa- , tives. " Remember that you are about to create a great peril,"-' were the closing words of Lamartine to the ministers. " Re- member the Tennis Court and its consequences. What was the Tennis Court of Versailles in 17S9 ? The Tennis Court 28 HISTORY OF THE was only a place for the political meetings of the States Gen- eral, closed by ministers, and opened by the hand of the nation to the outraged representatives of the country." In opposition to M. Duvergier de Hauranne and M. Barrot, M. Guizot maintained the right of the government and the Chamber to repel attack by attack, and to specify the hostility or the blindness of the agitators. M. Hebert, Keeper of the Seals, demonstrated with ability the danger of meetings with- out legal repression. He was for a revival of the laws of 1791. He rendered the debate more acrimonious by exaggerating the arbitrary view of the question. M. Ledru RoUin replied to him with a fire and vigor which placed him in the front rank of the opposition orators. The anger of both parties was in- flamed. A diversion was necessary to the passion of the Chamber — an honorable issue from the conflict. This diversion was evidently in the presentation of a rational law on the liberty and limits of the right of assembly. The conservatives themselves, together with Messieurs Duvergier de Hauranne and Lamartine, demanded this law. The ministry were ob- stinate. A revolution was about to cut the knot which Pru- dence refused to disentangle. III. The 12th arrondissement of Paris had arranged a banquet. The opposition had promised to verify the right by its presence, and the banquet was to take place on the 20th of February. The ministry did not oppose it by force. They merely proposed to certify the offence by a commissary of police, and to try the question by the courts of law. The opposition was unani- mous for accepting the judicial debate on this ground. Every- thing was prepared for this peaceable demonstration. On the eve of it, the ministry, disturbed by a summons ad- dressed to the National Guards, without arms, by the impa- tient republicans, declared at the tribune that they retracted their concessions, and would disperse the manifestation by force. M. Barrot summoned the constitutional opposition to his house to deliberate. It was proposed to keep aloof from the extreme resolution of the government, and M. Barrot and his friends yielded to this counsel. On the next day a second deliberation took place at a resto- tator's in the Place de la Madeleine, and M. de Lamartine, M. REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 29 Berrj'er, and ]\I. de Laroche-jacquelein were invited to attend. They went thither. About two hundred deputies of all com- plexions of moderate opposition were present. The course to be pursued was discussed. The discussion was long, varied and embarrassing, and no firm or worthy decision was reached in any quarter. If the opposition receded, it would destroy itself, dishonor its name, and lose its moral influence over the nation. It would pass under the Caudine yoke of the ministry. If it persisted, it would incur the risk of conquering too much, and giving victory to the party which desired — what it feared — a revolution. But revolution for revolution, the risk of an advanced revolution seemed more acceptable to certain minds than a backward revolution. The debate was prolonged. Lamartine, though opposed to the agitation of the banquets, like MM. Thiers and Dufaure, could not tolerate the humili- ation of a retreat discreditable to liberal opinions. He sud- denly replied to M. Berryer, who had made an admirable but indefinite protest. " In listening to the Honorable M. Berryer," said he, " who had just disclosed to you so frankly and so eloquently his noble soul, I appreciate too well his hesitation as a worthy man, his patriotic anxiety, and his mental efforts to discover justice, truth and light in the terrible crisis in which the madness of an aggressive ministry places all good citizens, whatever i national opinion they embrace. I recognize my own thoughts in his, I find my own heart in his. " I, too, like him, like all of you, have meditated on the most honorable, the most national, the most prudent, and the same time the firmest part to be taken in the cruel alternative in which we are, as it were, imprisoned by circumstances. And I, too, have perceived the combinations of different parties, rendering our present and future difficulties more complicated. I, too, have noticed some gaps in our ranks since the time is approaching, but I have not stopped there. Of what import to us is the absence of men in crises of this nature ? I never inquire where such and such men are. I only ask what the lights of my country are. " We are told that the crisis is important, and the circum- stances stringent, and may be fraught with very dangerous responsibility for the firm men who lead it on in the name of their country. Gentlemen, I am more convinced of this than the speakers ; it would be blindness not to see these dangers, and weakness to disguise them from you. The crowd are 30 HISTORY OF THE always in danger, even when they have assembled in the most just and legitimate sentiment of their duties and their rights. We know it ; we know the truthful saying of antiquity : ' Whoever assembles the people agitates them by the very convocation.' Yes, the political horizon, the near horizon, the horizon of this very week, is loaded with cares and eventuali- ties, at which my mind has paused, and paused, like you. Yes, I have reflected, and at this moment am still reflecting, in cruel perplexity, in the presence of myself and of you. Yes, in the midst of a doubt so onerous for our responsibility as men of character and feeling, I do not consult my intelligence only. I go deeper into myself ; I strike my breast, I interrogate my conscience before the Supreme Judge of intentions and acts, and thus put the question on which you are deliberating." [Sensation.) " What is our situation ? " We are placed, by the provocation of the government, between shame and danger. " This is the appropriate title of our position. I know it, and your assent shows me I am perfectly correct." {Yes ! yes!) " We are placed between shame and peril." (Assent.) " Shame, gentlemen ! Perhaps we shall be generous enough, great enough, devoted enough, to accept it for ourselves. Yes, I feel that, for my part, I should accept it — I would accept my thousandth or my hundred thousandth portion of shame ; I would accept it blushing, but blushing proudly to prevent, at this cost, an accidental commotion from shaking the soil, a single drop of the generous blood of a French citizen from staining only one pavement of Paris I " I feel myself, and you all feel yourselves, capable of this sacrifice. Yes, shame be our portion rather than a drop of blood be shed by the people or the troops, on our responsibility. "But the shame of our country, gentlemen? The shame of the cause of constitutional liberty ? The shame of the character and rights of the nation ? No, no, no — we cannot, we must not, either in honor or conscience, accept it. The character, the rights, and the honor of the nation, are not ours — they are vested in the French name. We have no right to traffic with that which does not belong to us. " And what shall we say, on our return to our departments, to those who have confided to us the defence of their rights and the care of their dignity as a free people ? What would be our attitude, what would be our part, before them ? What ! REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 31 We have enjoyed with them, on the faith of custom and the right of assemblage common to all free people, on the faith of the restoration, on the faith of the ministers of the revolution of July themselves, who gave us the example, this legal right of political assemblage ; we have authorized, by our presence, or, like myself, by our consent, if not by our presence, those pacific meetings in which constitutional opinions were heard from the lips of deputies or authorities ; we have encouraged the citizens to practise constitutionally, wisely, and moderately, this right of public emotion ; we have said to them, if ^j^ou are attacked in this right, we will defend it, Ave will save it for you, we will bring it back to you entire, or at least invested with the securities and rules which the law alone has the power of pro- viding for the regulation of its exercise. " Yes, we have told them this ; and now, basely yielding, not to a law which I myself demanded of the Chamber, but to the capricious and arrogant injunction of a minister, promulgated from the height of the tribune, should we accept his arbitrary interdiction for law ? Should we yield to him, without legal evidence of our resistance to force ? Should we surrender our constitutional arms to arbitrary power ? Should we abandon our obligations, and what we believe to be a fundamental guar- antee ? Should we give up both liberty and the nation ? Should we, without at least a record of the spoliation, suffer the nation to be plundered of that liberty which is the guarantee of all the others, the liberty of opinion ? Then we should go back to our cities and our departments and say to our constituents — ' See what we have brought you back from the legal battle-field whither you sent us to fight for you : the wrecks of your con- stitution — the ruins of your liberty of opinion — the arbitrary fiat of a minister instead of a national right ! " ' We have placed the neck of France under the foot of a ininister.' " (Acclaviations.) " No ! no ! this is impossible. We should be no longer men — this would be no longer a nation. We should instantly give in our resignations, and disappear and wither in the popular contempt." [Reiiewed acclamations.) " But do not think," continued he, " that these words con- tain a wretched feeling of personal pride ; I repeat it, the neg- lect, the degradation of ourselves, is nothing ; but to wither and degrade our country — there is the shame, there the crime, tljere the infamy, which we cannot accept. "Gentlemen, let us speak calmly — the moment demands it. 32 HISTORY OF THE The question between the government and ourselves is weighty. Let us know thoroughly what we would accomplish on Tuesday for France. Is it sedition ? No. Is it a revolution ? No. May God avert, as long as possible, that necessity from our country. What is it, then ? An act of faith and national will in the omnipotence of the legal right of a great country. For fifty years, gentlemen, France has often, too often, too impetu- ously, perhaps, enacted revolutionary deeds. She has not yet performed one great national act by her citizens. It is an act of citizens which we would accomplish for her ; an act of legal resistance against arbitrary measures, which hitherto she has not known how to oppose, by constitutional means, and with no other arms than her attitude and will." ( Yes I yes I) " It is, then, a civic act we would perform, in which France is to be our witness in the eyes of the people of Paris. Let us understand for once how to guard, save, and strengthen by such an act, by an unshaken and calm attitude, by an appeal to the justice and not to the violence of the country; let us understand for once how to guard what we have kno\vn how to conquer so often, but never to preserve !" (Assent.) "There are dangers in the execution of this act? "V\Tio denies it ? But have not the abjuration of its rights by the nation, the acceptance of arbitrary' power, the encouragement of attempts at ministerial usurpation, the abasement of the national character before all governments, have these not their dangers also ? "Dangers? Speak not so much of them. You will de- prive us of the coolness requisite to prevent them ; you will tempt us to brave them ! It will not depend on ourselves to remove them from this manifestation, by all the moderation, reserve and prudence of word and action, counselled by your committee. The rest is no longer in our hands, gentlemen ; the rest is in the hands of God. He alone can infuse the spirit of order and peace into that people which will press forAvard in crowds to witness the pacific and conservative manifestation of her institutions. Let us pray him to give this token of pro- tection to the cause of liberty and the progress of nations, and to prevent all fatal collision between the armed and theunaraied citizens. Let us hope, let us implore all the citizens that it may be so. Let us abandon the rest to Providence, and the responsibility of the government which alone provokes and pro- duces the necessity of this dangerous manifestation. I know not if the arms confided to our brave soldiers will aU be managed REVOLUTION OF 1848. 33 by judicious hands. I think and hope so ; but if the bayonets should rend the laAV, if the muskets should have balls, I know this, gentlemen, that we shall defend, with our voices first, and our bosoms aftenvards, the institutions and the future of the people ; and that these balls must pierce our bosoms to tear from tliem the rights of our country. Let us deliberate no longer — ' let us act." IV. Such were the words of De Lamartine. Enthusiasm rather than reflection drew them from him. Lamartine had, till then, carried his scruples to the point of blaming severely the agi- tation of the banquets, as an invitation to revolution. At the last moment he seemed to change his tone. It is true that it was X no longer a question of a reform banquet, but the right of legal assemblages, the point being contested with, the deputies by the ministr}', who employed open force. The strife between every shade of opposition and the government was personified in this political duel. Lamartine thought he saw both honor and opposition involved in it, and ruin if they recoiled after having been advanced so far. The opposition of the left centre was growing weak. In becoming weak it would drag down in its retreat all the other opposition forces compromised in its movements and manifestations. Lamartine had never been a party to this opposition. He considered it more personal than national, more ambitious than politic. The secret satisfaction of once more detecting this opposition in the very act of Aveak- ness, the pride of going beyond it and convicting it of want of aim, perhaps unconsciously added something to the warmth of his address. The fire of anger evaporated in these words. The opposition of the centre left once more yielded and aban- doned the banquet. The consequences which might have flowed from the discourse of M. de Lamartine were thus averted. He had no connection with the after-movement, which took another course. But if these considerations excuse the fault of Lamartine, they are not sufficient to acquit him. The impetus he had given to the opposition might have led to a conflict as much as the obstinacy of the government. Lamartine trusted something to chance. Virtue trusts prudence alone when the peace of empires and the lives of men are in question. He tempted God and the people. Lamartine afterwards reproached himself sincerely with this fault. It is the only one which has weighed 34 HISTORY OF THE upon his conscience during the whole course of his political carper. He did not seek to extenuate it either to himself or others. It is a grave offence to cast back upon God what God has imposed upon the statesman — responsibility. There was in this a defiance to Providence. The wise man should never defy fortune, but foresee and solicit it. In the evening a few deputies and peers, to the number of seven or eight, met spontaneously at Lamartine's house. They resolved to accept alone the challenge issued by government, and refused by the opposition of the centre left, and to repair to the banquet to protest by their presence against the arbitrary interdiction of the ministers. A few minutes later they learned that no banquet would take place. They separated. Meanwhile the government, with a foresight of the events which might arise from much agitation and excitement in the public mind, had assembled a considerable force in and about Paris. It was estimated at fifty-five thousand men. The ar- tillery of Vincennes was to present itself at the first summons at the entrance of the Faubourg Saint Antoine. A disposition, long and carefully studied from the year 1830, in case of a rising, assigned militaiy posts to different corps in the different quarters of the city. Every insurgent body intercepted by these posts would be divided into fragments incapable of reuniting. The fort of Mont Valerien was to be occupied by a numerous garrison, already mounted and on the road from Paris to St, Cloud. Thirty-seven battalions of infantry, a battalion of the Chasseurs (V Orleans, three companies of sappers and miners, twenty squadrons, four thousand men of the municipal guard and veterans, and five batteries of artillery, formed the gar- rison of the capital, VI. The night was mute, like a city reflecting before acting. The morning did not announce a disastrous day. There were no arms beneath dresses, nor anger upon men's countenances. Only curious and inoffensive crowds grew denser on the boule- vards, and descended from the upper faubourgs of Paris. They seemed rather to be looking round them than meditating any- thing. The event seemed to spring from the curiosity which REVOLUTION OF 184S. 35 looked for it. The youth of the schools — the vanguard of all the revolvitions — united in groups in the different quarters, and, animated by their numbers, came down upon the Place de la Madeleine singing the Marseillaise. The people, electrified, responded to the song. Their column swelled in size, traversed the Place de la Concorde, crossed the Pont Royal, forced the gates of the palace of the Chamber of Deputies, which was still deserted, and scattered, without guide or object, in the gardens of the palace and along the quays. A regiment of dragoons advanced on the quay, and dispersed these youth at a walk, without encountering resistance. The infantry arrived, the ar- tillery took up a position in the Rue de Bourgogne, and the bridge was thus put in a militarj'' posture of defence. The deputies, sad, but not disquieted, again assembled in their palace. They ascended the steps of the peristyle, which faced the bridge, and there beheld the increasing forces at the disposal of the monarchy, and the first wave of the multitude who were pressed back by the cavalry into the rue Royale. They heard no cry or musket shot. The music of a regiment of chasseurs sounded peacefully before the gates of the Cham- ber of Deputies, The contrast of these festival airs and the appearance of combat which covered the quay thrilled their souls, and .produced a discord between the ear and the eyes of the citizens. vn. Within, M. Barrot laid on the table of the president an act of accusation against the ministers. M. Guizot, seeing this act deposited, left his bench, went to the table, read the accusation, and smiled with disdain. He had extensively read and ^vritteu history ; his strong and lofty soul loved its grand dramas ; his eloquence sought occasions which would resound in the future ; his look invited the contest ; he braved an accusation, against which he was defended within the house by a majority, incor- porated in his own person, and protected without by a monarchy and an army. The distracted Chamber discussed apparently the administrative laws. The day, short and dark as a winter's day, saw the floating crowds increase, and some barricades erected to mark out the ground of the revolution. The insurgent committees became permanent in the secret societies and the offices of the repub- lican journals. We are ignorant of Avhat occurred there. u\. .^ i A ^ J 36 HISTORY OF THE They were, without doubt, more employed in observation than in action. The limited action of a conspirator, who can never dispose of but a small number of men, has no influence except when it seizes on a general idea, or a preexisting passion. The governments of antiquity, tyrannies or despotisms, might be endangered by a conspiracy ; under free governments conspiracy vanishes. The only omnipotent conspirator in modern states is public opinion. Night came without blood having been shed. It was silent as the day, disquieted as on the eve of a great event. How- ever, the news of a probable change of ministry, which relaxed the danger, reassured the citizens. The troops bivouacked in the squares and streets. Some benches and chairs on the Champs-Elysees, set on fire by the children, lighted up the horizon with an irregular illumination. The government was everywhere master of Paris, except in that kind of citadel fortified by the nature of the construction and the narrow wind- ing of the streets, near the convent Saint Mery, in the centre of Paris. There some indefatigable and intrepid republicans, who observed everything and despaired of nothing, were con- centrated, either by a concerted plan of tactics, or by the same spontaneous revolutionary instincts. Even their chiefs disap- proved their obstinacy and rashness. They were estimated at four or five hundred in number, more or less. Another detach- ment of republicans, without chiefs, disarmed during the night the National Guards of the Batignolles, burned the station of the barrier, and fortified themselves in a neighboring timber- yard to await the event. They did not attempt to dislodge them. At dawn the routes which led to the gates of Paris were covered with colunms of cavalry, infantrj' and artillery, which the commands of government had collected. These troops were imposing, obedient, well-disciplined, but sad and silent. The sadness of civil war clouded their brows. They took suc- cessively their position on the principal streets branching off" from the quarters which pour forth the population of Paris. The multitude did not fight e?i masse upon any point. Dispersed and floating bands disarmed only isolated stations, broke open the armorers' shops, and fired invisible shots upon the troops. The barricades, starting from the centre of the church Saint Mery, were raised, branching out and gradually multiplying almost under the feet of the army. Hardly were they reared when they were abandoned. The troops 'had only stones to REVOLUTION OF 1848. 37 contend with, — it was a silent battle, whose progress was felt without hearing the noise. The Niitional Guard, assembled by a tardy call, collected legion by legion. It remained neutral, and confined itself to interposing between the troops and the people, and demanding with loud voice the dismissal of the ministers, and reform. It thus served as a shield to the revolution. VIII. Such was the state of Paris on the morning of the twenty- fourth of February. The troops, fatigued from seeing no enemy, yet feeling hostility on all sides, stood faithful but sad at their different posts. The generals and officers discussed with low voices the inexplicable indecision of events. Groups of cavalry were seen at the ends of the principal streets, en- veloped in their gray cloaks, with drawn swords in their hands, immovably stationed for thirty-six hours in the same place, allowing their horses to sleep under them, trembling with cold and hunger. The officers of ordnance gallop by every moment, carrying from one part of Paris to another orders and counter- orders. There was heard in the distance, on the side of the Hotel de Ville, and the deep and winding labyrinths of the ad- jacent streets, some firing from groups of people, which appeared to subside and become silent as the day advanced. The people were not numerous in the streets ; they seemed to allow the invisible spirit of revolution to fight for them, and that small band of obstinate combatants who were dying for them in the heart of Paris. It is said there was a watch-word between the masses of the people and that group of republicans — a silent signal of intelligence, which said to som^, " Resist a few hours longer," and to others, " You have no need of mingling in the contest, and shedding French blood. The genius of the revo- lution fights for all; the monarchy is falling; it is only neces- sary to push it ; before the sun sets the republic will have triumphed." IX. The fate of the day was at the disposal of the National Guard. The government thus far had not wished to sound its equivocal disposition, by asking it to take an active part in the affiiir, and fire on the citizens of Paris. General Jacqueminot, 4* 38 HISTORY OF THE its commander-in-chief, intrepid and bold in person, but at this time sick, did not doubt but he would find in his officers and soldiers the warlike and devoted resolution he felt in himself. The king, who, for eighteen years, had pressed the hand of each man of that civic guard of Paris, and who knew better than any one what solid union existed between their interests and his own, believed himself sure of their hearts and bayonets. The prefect of Paris, Count de Rambuteau, strongly attached to the royal family, but incapable of flattering at such a junc- ture those whom he loved, did not partake this confidence. His daily intercourse with the merchants of Paris, from whom were chosen almost all the colonels and officers of this corps, had revealed to him for some time past a silent discontent, a disaf- fection — ungrateful perhaps, yet real — which would not rise in sedition, but might manifest itself in abandonment at the hour of danger. He noticed it to the king ; the king repelled this notice with a smile and gesture of incredulity. " Go," said this prince to him, " do you occupy Paris ; I will answer for the king- dom." The faithful magistrate retired, disturbed at such pro- found security. X. The National Guards, called, in fact, on the morning of the 24th, to interpose between the people and the troops of the line, answered slowly and weakly to the appeal. They recognized, in the prolonged movement of the people, an anti-ministerial demonstration, an armed petition in favor of electoral reform, which they were far from disapproving. They, smiled upon it in secret. They felt an antipathy to the name of M. Guizot. His irritating and prolonged authority oppressed them. They loved his principles of government, perhaps ; they did not love the man. They saw in him at one time a complai- sance, at another an imprudent vexation, of England. They reproached him for a peace too dearly purchased by political servility in Portugal; they reproached him for the war too rashly risked, for the aggrandizement of the Orleans family, at Madrid. They rejoiced at the downfall and humiliation of this minister, equally unpopular in peace and war. They were not too much alarmed by "seeing the people vote with musk"t-shots against the system pursued by the king. This prince had grown old in the heart of the National Guard, as in the number of his years. His wisdom appeared to the Parisians to have become petrified through obstinacy. This REVOLUTION OF 184S. 39 obstinacy, crushed or vanquished by sed tion, appeared to the bourgeoisie a just punishment for too long continued prosperity. Everything was confined, in the opinion of the National Guards, to a change of ministry', somewhat forced by the agitation of Paris ; to the entry of the opposition into the administration of affairs, in the persons of M. Thiers and M. Odilon Barrot ; to a moderate reform of the electoral law ; to a Chamber of Dep- uties made young again and imbued with the spirit of the countr}'. The most clear-sighted saw nothing more than the abdication of the king and a regency. In a word, the National Guard, by its murmurs, believed that it was only making an opposition in the street, when it had already made a revolution. For the rest, they did not doubt that the night had yielded counsel to the king ; that the new ministry would be announced in the morning ; and that the aimless emeute would vanish of itself, and be transformed, as on the eve, to cries of joy and illuminations. XI. The Chamber of Deputies had been in session from eight o'clock in the morning, in expectance of the communications the king would make them through his ministers. They were as full of security as the king himself. The majority, confiding in their strength, and in the number and fidelity of the troops, were conversing quietly in their seats on the different minis- terial combinations which the coming hour would reveal to the deputies. A change of power was seen to be imminent, but no one yet foresaw a change of government. The pampered friends of the old ministry were in consternation. Ambitious individuals brightened at their approaching fortune. The inde- pendent members contemplated with feelings of sadness the struggle between two desperate parties, which might produce the ruin of the country. A painful, but still not hopeless anxiety, weighed upon the spirits of the assembl}-. Every time a man of note entered the hall, groups were formed about him, as to anticipate from his lips the watchword of destiny. Still one of the men for whom Providence had reserved a part in the approaching drama did not foresee the catastrophe which was destined in a few hours to engulf the monarchy. This man was Lamartine. Lamartine was the son of a provincial gentleman from the bank of Saone. His early ;outh had been obscure. He had passed it in 40 HISTORY OF THE Study, travel, and country retirement. He had held much intercourse with nature, with books, and with his own heart and thoughts. He had been nurtured in a hatred of the empire. This servitude possessed only an external glory, — it was mournful and desolate within. The study of Tacitus had roused his heart against the tyranny of the new Caesar. Born of a military, religious, and loyal race, Lamartine had entered the Eoyal Guards, on the return of the Bourbons, like all the sons of the old provincial noblesse. Impatience and disgust at the service, in time of peace, had induced him to quit it. Ho had resumed his independence and his travels over the world. Poetry, produced almost involuntarily, had circulated his name. This precocious reputation had secured him a welcome from the politicians of the day, M. de Talleyrand, M. Pasquier, M. Mounier, M. Royer CoUard, M. de Broglie, and particularly M. Laine. Under their auspices, he had entered diplomatic life. His opinions, from that time forward, liberal and consti- tutional, like those of his family, had displeased the court. In 1S30, he had only just been appointed minister plenipotentiary to Greece. After the revolution of July, he sent in his resignation, from a feeling of respect to the decaying fortunes of the royal house, which he had served, and from that of reserve to the ascending fortunes of the new monarchs rising into power. He had spent two years in travelling in the East. The horizon of the world had enlarged his thoughts. A sight of the ruins of empires saddens but strengthens the philosopher. As from the eleva- tion of a geographical fact, we behold the rise, grandeur, and destruction of races, ideas, creeds, and empires. Nations dis- appear. We see only humanity tracing its course, and multi- plying its halts upon the road to infinity. We discern God more clearly at the termination of this long route of the cara- van of nations. We seek to estimate the divine plan of civili- zation, and detect it. We receive a faith in the indefinite progress of human affairs. Momentary and local policy dwin- dles and disappears. Universal and eternal policy remains. We depart men, we return philosophers. From that time, we belong only to God's party. Opinion becomes a philosophy. This is the result of long travels and profound thoughts in the East. The bottom of tho abyss, and the secrets of the ocean, are only discovered afteT the ocean is dried up. It is thus with the bed of nations. History understands them only when they are no more. REVOLUTION OF 1848. 4. mi- « 1 a ath [ XII. During his journey in the East, Lamartine had been nomi nated deputy by the Departement du Nord. He had held seat, isolated from parties, for twelve years ; seeking the path of truth, intelligence, and philosophy; speaking by turns for and against the government ; as void of hatred as of love for the new dynasty ; ready to aid it, if willing to rule according to the views of a democracy increasing in rights as well as in power — ready to resist it, if it resumed the path of the past. The political principles of Lamartine were those of the eter- nal truth of which the gospel is a page, the equality of men in the eyes of God, realized on earth by those laws and forms of government which give to the greatest number, and presently to all citizens, the most equal share of personal participation in p the government, and thence eventually in the moral and mate-__J rial benefits of human society. ^ Still Lamartine recognized the rule of reason as superior to the brutal sovereignty of numbers ; for reason being in his view the reflection of God upon the human race, the sove- reignty of reason was the sovereignty of God. He did not push to a chimerical point the violent and actually imposs'ble equalization of social conditions. 4e could not conceive of any civilized society without three bases, which seemed given by instinct itself, that great revealer of eternal truths, — the State, Family, and Property. The community of goods, — which necessarily implies the community of the wife, child, father, and mother, — and the degradation of the species, inspired him MHth horror. Socialism, under its different formulse of Saint Simonism, Fourierism, Appropriation of Capital under pre- tence of freeing and multiplying its produce, inspired him with pity. Property, doubtless, appeared to him, like everything else, capable of being perfected by institutions which develop instead of destroying it ; but the protection of wages seemed to him the freest and most perfect form of the association between capital and labor, since wages are the exacted propor- tion liberally estimated between the value of labor and the wants of capital — a proportion expressed in every free country by what is called common consent. Still, as the laborer, pressed by hunger, does not possess always and immediately his perfect freedom to estimate his rights, md thus to proportion the price of his labor to the ser- vice he renders capital, Lamartine admitted, to a certain extent, /'\ 42 HISTORY OF THE the state, as the arbiter, or the great Prud'homme, between the contrary exigences of the two contracting parties. He wished, moreover, that the state, the providence of the strong and the weak, should, in certain extreme cases, deter- mined by the administration, furnish aid, in the shape of work, to kxborers who found it utterly impossible to obtain bread for their families. He asked for a poor tax. He would not have abandonment and death the ultimatum of a civilized community to the laborer destitute of food and shelter. He would have this ultimatum — work and bread. In fine, sensible of the advantages of property, the true civic right of moderr^ times, he aspired to the gradual extinction of destitution, by endowing more generally with property the greatest number, and eventually all citizens. But the first condition of this successive appropriation of a portion of prop- erty to the hands of all was a respect for property in the hands of proprietors, merchants, working men already elevated by labor and inheritance to dignity and prosperity. To dispossess some to enrich others, did not seem to him progress, but an act of plunder, ruinous to all. Such were his ideas of the social measures which the revo- lution ought to accomplish, or rather which the government should perfect, for the advantage of the masses. As to the form of government, he had, in his History of the Girondists, expressed his sincere views on the monarchical and republican forms of government. We shall repeat them ; these pages com- prise the whole man. XIII. It will seem by these pages that the question of government was to Lamartine one of circumstance, rather than principle. It is evident, that if the constitutional government of Louis Philippe had honestly labored to accomplish gradually and completely the two or three moral or material measures de- manded by the epoch, Lamartine would have defended the monarchy. For in his calm and rational appreciation of the happiness of nations and individuals, stability and order cer- tainly seemed to him weighty conditions of repose. Now, repose is a good. But Lamartine knew that the seated powers, to use an expression he employed in the Girondins, almost inflexibly refused to engage in these labors of transformation, which are almost always concussions. While himself refus- REVOLUTION OF 1848. 43 mg conscientiously to provoke a revolution, in his own mind he was reconciled to the perspective of an involuntary revolution, if the force of circumstances embraced one. He was resolved to brave its tempests and its perils, — to direct it, on the one hand, to the accomplishment of ideas which he believed to be matured, and, on the other, confine it, as far as he could, within the limits of justice, prudence, and humanity. The two principal ideas which Lamartine thought sufficiently pure and sufficiently matured to be worth the effort of a revo- lution were entirely disinterested. They concerned only the cause of God and humanity. They satisfied no personal inter- ests or passions of his own ; or, at least, they were the passions of a philosopher, and not of an ambitious man. He had noth- ing to gain, and much to lose by it. He only asked of this prospective revolution permission to sen'e it, and give his heart, his reason, and perhaps his life, to its cause. These two ideas were worthy of such a sacrifice. One was the accession of the masses to political rights, to prepare for their progressive, inoffensive, and regular advance- ment to justice ; that is to say, to equality of standing, intel- ligence, relative well-being in society. The second was the absolute emancipat jon of the conscience ' of the human race, not by the destruction but by the complete liberty, of religious creeds. The means, in his eyes, was the final separation of Church and State. So long as the Church and State were bound together by simoniacal contracts, by sal- aries received and by investitures given, the State appeared to him interposed between God and the human conscience. Religions, on their side, appeared to him adulterated or pro- faned, in descending thus from their majesty of voluntary faiths to the servdie condition of political magistracies. " The revolution of '89," he had said from the tribune, "has con- quered liberty for every one excepting God. Rehgious truth is the prisoner of the law, or enslaved by the salaries or partial favors of governments. We must restore its independence, and abandon it to its natural radiation over the human mind. In becoming more free, it will become more true ; in becoming more true, it will become more holy ; in becoming more holy and more free, it wiU. become more effective. It is now but law ; it will be faith. It is now but the letter ; it will be spirit. It is now but a formula ; it will be action." Lamartine was born religious, as the air was created trans- parent. The sentmient of God was so inseparable from his 44 HISTORY OF THE soul, that it was impossible for him to distinguish politics from religion. All progress which did not end in a more luminous knowledge and a more active adoration of the creator, source, and end of humanity, seemed to him a groping and aimless march in nothingness. But in calling with all his aspirations and all his acts for a progress in faith and adoration, Lamartine did not wish this progress but by the action of universal reason upon all, and of each man upon his own reason. He had a horror of persecu- tions, of violence, or even of the delusions of conscience. He respected sincerely in others that organ, the most inviolable of all those of which man is formed, faith. He venerated faith and piety, under whatever holy form they may have animated, instructed, and consoled his brethren. He called to mind the innumerable and holy virtues of which Catholicism, understood otherwise than he himself understood it, was the divine spring in the heart of believers. He would have died for the inviola- bility of the sincere and conscientious worship of the last of the faithful. He desired that religions should themselves cast off the antiquity with which they were invested ; he did not wish that they should be violently, or even irreverently, de- spoiled. His only apostle was liberty ; it is the only worthy minister of God in the minds of men. He respected the priest- hood, provided the priesthood was the voluntary magistracy of the soul, armed with faith, and not with law. His system of the liberty of worship by association alone was rational, pious, and opposed to revolutionary in the bad sense of that word. XIV. These were the two secret moving principles which urged Lamartine not to make, but to accept, a revolution, or, at least, a complement of a revolution. For, he did not conceal from himself at all the difficuUies, the dangers and the misfortunes, which every revolution draws after it. He loved democracy, as justice. He abhorred the principles of the demagogue, as the tyranny of the muUitude. God has composed humanity, as he has composed man, of a principle of good, and of a prin- ciple of evil. There is a portion of virtue and a portion of vice and crime iri the masses, as in individuals. This vice and this crime are agitated and exalted in revolutions. Everything which puts them in motion appears to multiply them, until the cahn is renewed, and their nature draws them to the bottom. f REVOLUTION OF ISIS. 45 It is the war of the foam against the ocean. Tlie ocean, in becoming calm, triumphs always, and swallows up the foam. But it has none the less been stained. Lamartine kneAv that. He trembled beforehand at the excesses of the demagogue. He was resolved to resist it, and to die, if necessar}', to preserve from its delirium and its fury the pure party of the people, and the calm majesty of a revolution. XV. Now, while he heard and saw, without well comprehending it, a movement more like a tumult than a revolution, which was concentrated in some of the streets in the centre of Paris, see what was accomplished. On the evening of the twenty-third, a few minutes after sun- set, the crowd, satisfied with a change of ministry, inundated the boulevards and the streets, clapping their hands at the illu- minations which glittered upon the facades of the houses. A feeling of peace and inward joy reposed at the bottom of the hearts of the citizens. It was like a silent proclamation of reconciliation and concord, after an abortive outbreak between the king and the people. They knew that the king, not van- quished but shaken, had called successively to the Tuileries M. Mole, M. Thiers, M. Barrot. M. Mole, a man of politic temperament, experienced in crises, agreeable to courts, esteemed by the conservatives, loved by the high bourgeoisie, one of those aristocracies by birth and char- acter, whose superiority is so natural that the most jealous democracy is honored by acknowledging and loving them. M. Thiers, chief of the personal opposition to the king, a man whose talent, ready for everj^thing, and capable of the most unexpected movements, could equally astonish the con- servatives, rule the king, or fascinate the people. M. Barrot, imsuited to the government so far as concerned the inflexibility^ and popularit}' of his principles, but whom the extremity of the danger now rendered necessary, and whose name alone promised to the people the last administration pos- sible behveen royalty and a republic. His opinions placed M. Barrot upon the last boundaries of raonarchy. He was the Lafayette of 1848. His eloquence (\'as of a nature to give force and eclat to a ministrj'. His character, of undisputed purity, sometimes bent by complai- sance and indecision of mind, never by feebleness of heart, 5 46 mSTORY OF THE made him a serious and almost inviolable idol of the people He was the opposition personified, but the opposition freed from every other ambition but that of honorable glory. Such a man seemed to have been reserved aside, during eighteen years, to save at the last hour the conquered king, who threw himself into his anns. XVI. These negotiations were not finished during the evening of the twenty-third. The king had remained deaf to the con- ditions proposed by M. Mole. A change of men appeared to this prince a sufficient sacrifice for the occasion. A change of measures seemed to him an abdication of his own wisdom. As to M. Thiers and M. Barrot, their names were repugnant to the king, as the visible signs of his personal defeat. He reserved these two names as the strongest conjurations against the greatest dangers ; but he did not believe himself seriously condemned to make use of them. The night was left for him to reflect, and to decide according to the appearances more or less menacing of the following day. Nothing announced that this night, which commenced with the splendors of an illumi- nation, was the last night of the monarchy. A small number of combatants, concentrated in that quarter of Paris which forms, by the crookedness and narrowness of its streets, the natural citadel of insurrections, presen'ed alone a hostile attitude and an inaccessible position. These men were nearly all veterans of the republic, formed by the volun- tary discipline of sects in the secret societies of the two mon- archies ; trained to the struggle, and even to martyrdom, in all the battles which had made Paris bleed, and contested the estab- lishment of the monarchy. Their invisible chief had no name nor rank. It was the invisible breath of revolution ; the spirit of sect, the soul of the people, suffering from the present, aspiring to bring light from the future ; the cool and disinterested enthu- siasm which rejoices in death, if by its death posterity can find a germ of amelioration and life. To these men were joined two other kinds of combatants, who always throw themselves into the tumultuous movements of seditions ; the ferocious spirits whom blood allures and death delights, and the light natures whom the whirlwind attracts and draws in, the children of Paris. But this germ did not increase It watched in silence, musket in hand. It contented itself with thus giving time for the general insurrection. DEVOLUTION OF 1348. 41 This insurrection was nowhere manifested. It needed a war- cry to excite it, a cry of horror to sow fury and vengeance in that mass of floating population, equally ready to retire to their homes, or to go forth to overthrow the government. Some silent groups collected here and there at the extremity of the faubourgs of the Temple and of St. Antoine. Other groups, few in number, appeared at the entrance of the streets which open from the Chaussee d'Antin upon the boulevards. These two kinds of groups were different in costume and at- titude. The one was composed of young men belonging to the rich and elegant classes of the bourgeoisie, to the schools, to commerce, to the National Guard, to literature, and above all to journalism. These harangued the people, roused their anger against the king, the ministry, the Chambers, spoke of the hu- miliation of France to the foreigner, of the diplomatic treasons of the court, of the corruption and insolent servility of the depu- ties sold to the discretion of Louis Philippe. They discussed aloud the names of the popular ministers Avhom the insurrection must impose upon the Tuileries. The numerous loiterers and persons passing by, eager for news, stopped near the orators, and applauded their proposals. The other groups were composed of men of the people, come from their workshops two days since at the sound of musketry ; their working-clothes upon their shoulders, their blue shirts open at the breast, their hands yet black with the smoke of charcoal. These descended in silence, by small companies, grazing the walls of the streets which lead to Clichy, la Villette, and the Canal de I'Ourcq. One or two workmen, better clothed than the others, in cloth vests, or in surtouts with long skirts, marched before them, spoke to them in low tones, and appeared to give them the word of command. These were the chiefs of the sections of the Rights of Man, or of the Families. The society of the Rights of Man, and of the Families, was a kind of democratic masonry, instituted, since 1830, by some active republicans. These societies preserved, under different names, since the destruction of the first republic by Bonaparte, the rancor of betrayed liberty, as well as some traditions of jacobinism, transmitted from Babeuf to Buonarotti, and from Buonarotti to the young republicans of this school. The mem- bers of these purely political societies were recruited almost en- tirely from am mg the chiefs of the mechanic workshops, lock- smiths, cabinet-makers, printers, joiners, and carpenters of Paris. Parallel to these permanent conspiracies against royalty, the 48 HISTORY OF THE keystone of the arch of privileg-e, philosophical societies we organized, composed of almost the same elements, — some undwi the auspices of St. Simon, others under those of Fourier, — the former comprising the followers of Cabet, the latter those of Kaspail, of Pierre Leroux and of Louis Blanc. These con- spiracies in open day were alone spread by means of eloquence, association and journalism. Sects so far pacific, these societies discussed their opinions, and caused them to be discussed freely. These opinions, whose principle was a chimerical fraternity realized upon earth, all lead to the suppression of individual property. They lead, by a direct consequence, to the suppres- sion of the family. The family is the trinity of the father, of the mother, and of the child. The father, the mother, and the child who perpetuates them, renew, \vithout cessation, this trin- ity, which alone completes and continues man. Without per- sonal and hereditary property, this family, the source, delight, and continuation of humanity, has no foundation to germinate and perpetuate itself here below. The man is a male, the woman a female, and the child a little one of the human flock. The soil, without a master, ceases to be fertile. Civilization, the product of wealth, of leisure, and of emulation, vanishes. The destruction of the family is the suicide of the human race. These elementary truths were classed among the number of prejudices, and insulted with the names of tyranny, by the dif- ferent masters of these schools. Philosophers or sophists, ideal adventurers, these men, for the most part honest, sincere, fanat- ical in their own chimeras, went further in imagination than the social world can carry the feet of man. They wandered elo- quently in the chaos of systems. They caused to wander with them, unfortunately, simple, suffering, credulous men, short- sighted, with good intentions, but with false ideas, excited by misery and resentment against the actual world. These sys- tems were the poetry of communism, intoxicating the aspirations of Utopians, and the A^engeance of those discontented with the social order. The nomadic people of the workshops, Avandering from their native soil and the truths of family, threw themselves, without perceiving it, into nothingness. They were irritated by the tardy realization of the promises of their masters. Every shock to the government appeared to the members of these anti- social societies a fulfilment of their dreams. Without sharing at all in the purely republican and leveUing dogma of the society of the Rights of Man, and of the society of the Families, the Socialists heartily joi led the combatants, hoping to find their o G a O H O 1] > UNIVER51, / Or flMi.OIS REVOLUTION OF 1348. 49 tie-vsure under a rum. The difference between these two kinds of revolutionists is, that the first were inspired by the hatred of roi'-altj^ the second by the progress of humanity. The re- public and equality was the ahn of the one ; social renovation and fraternity the aim of the other. They had nothing in common but impatience against that which existed, and hope for that wh^cb they saw dawming in an approaching revolution. XVII. Towards ten o'clo-;k in the evening, a small column of repub- licans of the youpg bourgeoisie passed through the rue Lepelle- tier ; it formed a gi'oap in silence around the gate of the journal Le National, as if a rendezvous had been appointed. In all our revolutions, counsel is held, the word of command is given, the impulse comes, from the journal office. It is the comitia of public union, the ambulatorj' tribune of the people. We hear a long conference between the republicans within and the re- publicans without. Short and feverish words were exchanged through the low, closed window of the porter's lodge. The column, inspired with the enthusiasm which had just been com- municated to it, advanced with cries of Vive la reforme ! d bos les ministres I towards the boulevards. Hardly had it quitted the office ot Le Nfitional, when another column of workmen and men of the people presented itself, and halted there, at the command of its chief. *" It seemed to have been expected. It was applauded by the clapping of hands from within the house. Then a young man, of slight figiare, with fire concentrated in his looks, his lips agitated by enthu- siasm, his hair agitated by the breath of inspiration, mounts upon the window-seat, and harangues this multitudr;. The spectators see nothing but his gestures, hear nothing hut Xhv sound of his voice, and some thrilling phrases bearing the acceiy of the south. The tone of this eloquence was popular, but ih?'' wise and imaginative popularity which had in it nothing of th*- trivial. It elevated the rue de Paris to the eminence of th* Roman forum. It was modern passion from the lips of a ma » reared in antiquity. They thought they recognized, by the lighi of the lamp, a man of letters on the tribune. It was, said they, ]M. Marrast, the editor, at once gay and terrible with the sar- casms or invective of the republican opposition. The effect of this harangue was displayed in the impatience, t'ne attitudes and silent shuddering, of that group of combatants. 5* 50 HISTORY OF THE They marched to re oin the first group, which appeared to direct them. Two other silent groups also advanced at the same time, like a body detached to a position previously designed. The one appeared to come from the populous and ever tumultu- ous quarters of the boulevard de la Bastille. The other from the centre of Paris, having formed its nucleus in the office of the journal La Reforme. They had the zeal of the most inde- fatigable conspirators against royalty, and at their head marched men of action rather than of words, who carried "arms under their clothes. They marched like a well-trained band, and watched for the fire, while each combatant supported himself with confidence upon the tried arm of his companion in arms. The column of the boulevard de la Bastille was more numer- ous, but less compact and less powerful. It called to mind those revolutionary processions of the same people, descending into Paris on the decisive days of our first civil troubles. We saw there many women and children in rags, migrations from the suburbs, that come, from time to time, to astonish the rich and voluptuous centre of capitals by the spectacle of the poverty and strength of the primitive people. These more popular groups required visible and striking symbols to rally them. They had troops; they needed a leader. They had an army; they required a flag and drums, colors and noise. They carried two or three flags, torn in the struggles of the day and evening. They read there some trifling imprecations engraved on the white band of the three colors. •A man about forty years of age, tall, slender, with his hair curling and floating upon his neck, clothed in a white frock- coat, much worn and covered with mud, marched at their head with a military step. His arms were crossed upon his breast ; his head was a little bent forward, like a man about to meet the bullets with coolness, and who marched on to death, proud of dying. The eyes of this man, who was well known by the crowd, concentrated all the fire of a revolution. His counte- nance was expressive of a defiance which braved force. His lips, constantly agitated, were pale and trembhng ; yet his martial figure had at the bottom something dreamy, melancholy, and compassionate, which excluded all idea of cruelty in his courage. He displayed rather, in his posti re, his attitudes and his fea- tures, a fanaticism of devotion, a madness of heroism, Avhich calls to mind the Delliys of the East, intoxicated with opium, before throwing themselves on death. They said that his name was Lagrange. REVOLUTION OF 184S. 51 Near the cafe Tortoni, the rendezvous of idlers, these three columns united. They pressed aside by their weight the crowd of curious and unemployed persons, who swayed to and fro according to the natural oscillation of the crowds on the great crossings of the boulevards. A party of inoffensive people fol- lowed mechanically the flanks of this silent column. A small detachment, composed of workmen armed with sabres and pikes, separated ft-om the principal body at the upper part of the rue de Choiseul, and sunk without noise into that street. This detachment appeared to have for its mission to march and turn upon the Hotel of Foreign Affairs, occupied by troops, while the head of the column attacked them in front. An invisible plan evidentl)^ combined these movements. The unanimous breath of a revolution roused the masses. Conspirators alone could have controlled the chances with so much precision, and have thus directed the evolutions. XVIII. A red flag floated amidst the smoke of torches over the fore- most ranks of this multitude. Its numbers thickened as it con- tinued to advance. A sinister curiosity became intent upon this cloud of men, which seemed to bear the mystery of the day. In front of the Hotel of Foreign Afl^airs, a battalion of the line, drawn up in battle array, with loaded arms, its commander at the head, barred the boulevard. The column suddenly halts before this hedge of bayonets. The floating of the flag and the gleaming of torches frighten the horse of the commander. Rearing and whirling on its hind legs, the horse throws itself back towards the battalion, which opens to surround its leader. A discharge of fire-arms resounds in the confusion of this movement. Did it proceed, as has been said, from a concealed and perverse hand, fired upon the people by an agitator of the people, in order to revive by the sight of blood the cooling ardor of the struggle ? Did it come from the hand of one of the insurgents upon the troop ? In fine, what is more likely, did it come accidentally from the movement of some loaded weapon, or from the hand of some soldier who believed his commander was "Abounded when he saw the fright of his horse? No one knows. Crime or chance, that discharge of fire-arms rekindled a revol ition. TJie soldiers, upposing themselves attacked, take aim with their muskets. A train of fire bursts forth along the whole 52 HISTORY OF THE line. The explosio i, reverberated by the lofty houses and deep streets of this cenire of Paris, shakes the entire boulevard. The column of the people of the faubourgs falls decimated by balls. Dying shrieks and groans of the wounded mingle with cries of alann from lookers-on, women and children, who flee precipitately into the neighboring houses, into the low streets, under the gates. By the glimmering light of the torches, which are being extinguished in the blood on the pavement, groups of corpses can be discerned strewing here and there the highway. The terrified crowd, imagining itself pursued, retires, with shouts of vengeance, nearly as far as the rue Lafitte, leaving vacancy, silence and nigrht, between it and the battalions. o XIX. The crowd believed it had been traitorously thunderstruck in the midst of a demonstration of joy and harmony on account of a change of ministry. Its rage was turned against ministers so perfidious as to avenge their fall by torrents of blood — upon this king, so obstinate as to smite the same people who had crowned him by means of their own blood in 1830. The soldiers, on their part, were dismayed by this involun- tary carnage. No one had given the order to fire ; — no order had been heard, except to cross bayonets, for the sake of oppos- ing steel to the onset of the people. The night, perplexity, chance, precipitation, had done all. Blood bathed the feet of the soldiers ; the wounded crawled along to die between the legs of their murderers, and against the walls of the hotel. Tears of despair fell from the eyes of the commander; the officers blunted the points of their sabres on the pavement, while deploring this accidental crime. They felt in advance the rebounding of this involuntary murder of the people on the spirit of the Parisian population. The commander hastened to prevent this mistake, b)^ entering into an understanding with the people ; — he ordered a lieutenant to go and bear to the crowd gathered at the corner of the rue Lafitte expressions of regret and explanations. The officer presents himself at the cafe Tortoni, which forms the angle of this street and the boulevard. He wishes to speak. The crowd pr 3ss around him and listen ; but scarcely has he uttered a few vords when a man, armed with a musket, enters, pushes the spectators aside, and aims at the envoy. Some National Guards strike the weapon up, thrust back the mur- derer, and :onduct the officer to his battalion. REVOLUTION OF 18-18. 53 XX. Nevertkiless the report of the event spread as rapidly as the sound of the firing, along the whole line of the boulevards, and throughout half of Paris. The column of the faubourgs, for a moment driven back and dispersed, had retraced its steps to gather up its dead. Huge tumbrels, with teams ready harnessed, were found at hand at this advanced hour of the night, as if they had been prepared beforehand to cany about Paris corpses destined to rekindle, through the eyes, the fury of the people. The coi"pses are gathered up, they are arranged on these tum- brels, — the arms hanging outside the cart, the wounds uncov- ered, the blood pouring over the wheels. They are borne by torch-light in front of the office of the National, as a trophy of approaching vengeance, displayed near that cradle of the re- public. After this mournful pause, the car sets forward in the direc- tion of the rue IMontmartre, and stops before the office of the journal La Reforvie, — a fresh appeal to the irreconcilable oppo- sition of the republic and the monarchy. Hoarse cries, as if choked by the indignation, and repressed sobbing of the retinue, rise to the windows of the houses. A man, standing on the car, lifts from time to time from the pile ftf dead the corpse of a female, shows it to the crowd, and lays it back on the bloody couch. At this sight the pity of the passers-by is changed into fury ; they run to arm themselves at their houses ; the streets become empty ; a line of men anned with muskets march along by the wheels ; they penetrate the obscure streets of the popu- lous centre of Paris, towards the carre Saint Martin — that Slount Aventine of the people. They rap at door after door, to summon new combatants to vengeance. At the spectacle of those accusing victims of royalty, these quarters rise, rush to the bells, sound the tocsin, tear up the pavements of the streets, y erect and multiply barricades. From time to time, volleys of musketry resound, to hinder slumber from quieting the anxiety and rage of the city. The bells transmit from church to church, onwards to the ea; of the king at the Tuileries, their febrile pulsations, precursois of tJie insurrection on the morrow. I 1 BOOK III. Whu ■: the commotion, excited by vengeance and favored by the night, was extending throughout all Paris, the king reflected, at the sounds of the tocsin, upon the means of cahning the people and suppressing the revolution, in which he Avas still unwilling to see anything more than an ivieute. The abdica- tion of his system of foreign policy, personified in M. Guizot, in M. Duchatel, and in the majority of the Chambers, com- pletely gained over to his interests, must seem to him more than the abdication of his croAvn, — it was the abdication of his opinions, of his wisdom, of his halo of infallibility, in the eyes of Europe, — of his family, of his people, in his own eyes. To yield a throne to adverse fortune is a slight matter for a great soul; — to yield one's reno^vn and his moral authority to triumphant opinion and implacable history, is the most painful effort to be obtained from the heart of man, for it is the efTort which breaks and which humiliates him. But the king was not one of those rash and sanguinary natures, who, in cold blood, stake the life of a people against the satisfaction of their pride. He had read much history — was much experienced in events and their consequences — had reflected much. He did not dis- simulate from himself that a dynasty which should reconquer Paris by grape-shot and howitzers would be incessantly exposed to the horror of the people. His field of battle had always been opinion ; it is upon that he would act ; he desires to be promptlj- reconciled with it by concessions ; only, as a shrewd politician and economist, he bargained with himself and with opinion, in order to procure this reconciliation at the least possible detri- ment to his system and his dignity. He beheved he had yet many steps of popularity to descend before those of the throne. The rest of the night appeared to him a more than sufficient space of time for circumventing the exigences of the situation with which the day menaced him. =r=:J HISTORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF 1848. 55 II. In this state of mind the king awaited M. Mole, with whom he had already held an interview in the course of the day. The events of the evening had bent his will to some adjust- ment. M. Mole, who was prudence and moderation by nature, might doubtless, three days earlier, have justly reconciled what was demanded for the preservation of the monarchical principle, to which he had been attached all his life, with what was required by the irritations of parliamentary opinion. But M. Mole, discouraged by the interview of the preceding forenoon, did not come. The king then sent after M. Thiers. That minister, born with the royalty of July, loaded with the favors of the crown, dear to the parliament by his eloquence, often ill-satisfied, sometimes an agitator at the tribune, never irreconcilable, owed his heart and his voice to the perils of the dynasty which had adopted him. Tempered anew in an opposition of seven years, M. Thiers could rally to the king, on monarchical condi- tions, all that part of the nation whose republicanism was a mere caprice. The name of M. Thiers signified the victory of the opposition over the personal obstinacy of the king. Im- posed already upon the king in 1840, by an almost seditious coalition of different parties in the Chambers, M. Thiers had shown that triumph would not be abused by him. At that time master of the king, he had allowed himself to be honora- bly vanquished in his turn by the king; he had resigned the ministry into the hands of M. Guizot and the conservatives, at the very moment when he might have forced the king to retain him, and Europe to be convulsed, in the interests of his ambi- tion. He had been unwilling to be the Necker of the Orleans dynasty, when the imprudence of the coalesced parties of the opposition had allotted him the part of a minister master of his master. He confined himself to serving the king in his false idea of placing royalty within a citadel by fortifying the capi- tal, and to agitating Europe, by force of diplomacy, up to the extreme verge of war, in order to restore a little martial popu- larity to his cause in the negotiations relating to the East. This unfortunate conception of the French cabinet would have resulted in a retreat of the ministry, or in a universal war without allies for France. M. Thiers, who had marched reso- lutely towards the aby&s at a distance, checked himself when he saw it yawn \ jneath his feet. He had not clung with crim- 56 HISTORY OF THE inal obstinacy to his error ; he had sacrificed his personality before the danger of his country : he had not been willing" to illustrate his name with the blood of Europe ; this repentance had honored his fall in the eyes of the good ; he had retired disgraced in the view of statesmen, stripped of popularity in the opinion of extreme factions, but elevated in the esteem of impartial men. It is thus, at least, that we understood his rash accession, his agitated ministry, his honorable retirement. History ought to allow conscience lo enter into the apprecia- tion of a statesman. III. M. Thiers, summoned at midnight, did not hesitate to come forward. Providence seemed to have predestined him to assist at the cradle and at the funeral of this monarchy. At the moment when M. Thiers entered the Tuileries, M. Guizot was yet with the king. Illusion with reference to the nature of the movement, and imperturbable confidence in the strength of his will and the infallibility of his plans, did not permit it to be thought that any retrogression, that any self-reproach, made the spirit of the minister waver even at this last moment. His latest act was a defiance of opinion. In retiring he pro- voked it again. The king and the minister, dissatisfied with the military dispositions intrusted to the hands of General Jacque- minot and of General Tiburce Sebastiani, had just signed the appointment of Marshal Bugeaud to the military command of Paris. Marshal Bugeaud was at that time the object at once of confidence in the army, and of unpopularity in Paris; his name was a declaration of relentless war against compromise. A simple colonel in 1830, conspicuous in that grade by an heroic valor, and an instinctive knowledge of the art of war, Marshal Bugeaud was unreservedly devoted to the new dy- nasty. Commander of the fortress of Blaye, he had held as prisoner the Duchess de Berri : the unfortunate captive left prison respected for her heroism as a princess, but with a blem- ished reputation as a woman. That disclosure of a tender weakness answered a political rurpose with the Orleans dy- nasty, but shocked nature. Marshal Bugeaud had doubtless neither counselled nor approved this policy which trampled the family under foot. But he had the misfortune to find himself in an alternative between his duty as a soldier and his sentiments as a man. His situation had been made a crime. REVOLUTION OF 1S4S. 57 A deep resentment was cherished against him, dating from that period, in the minds of the royalists. Since then he had treated, it was averred, certain quarters of Paris more like a besieged city than a capital, in the revolts which signalized the last struggles of the republican party. That party never for- got the name of the marshal in its imprecations against monarchal rigors. But the governor-generalship of Algiers, exercised imperiously during five years, the subjection and pacification of Africa, indefatigable campaigns, a battle illus- trious by the name of Isly, the absolute but detailed admin- istration of the province, the solicitude of a father as much as of a general for the army, the love of the soldier, had recon- ciled France to the name of Marshal Bugeaud ; his intelligence had appeared to rise and enlarge in proportion to his honors. In his exterior, in his manner, in his brevity of speech, which cut without wounding, there was a rough good sense, a mili- tary frankness, and a commanding authority, which imposed attention upon the masses, confidence in the troops, and terror upon enemies ; such a man, placed the day before at the head of sixty thousand men of the army of Paris, would have ren- dered the victory of the people either impossible or bloody ; summoned at the moment when the ministry was tottering, his name was a contradiction to concessions ; it rendered them suspicious on the part of royalty, unacceptable on the part of the people. IV. M. Thiers and M. Guizot, the one coming out, the other entering, met at the door of the king's cabinet. Both seemed summoned in vain to the aid of a reign which their two sys- tems of policy had equally ruined. M. Thiers took it upon him to form a ministry on condition that M. Odilon Barrot, leader of the oldest and widest opposi- tion, should be admitted to it. To reinstate the monarchical power, it must needs be entirely displaced. A parliamentary revolution alone can arrest a popular revolution. The single instinct of safety dircctei this measure. The king consented to it. The new ministry understood, moreover, that the nomina- tion of Marshal Bugeaud as commander-in-chief of the troops would henceforth appear a provocation, and would inflame yet more hotlv the combat. It desired a truce, in order to negoti- 6 68 HISTORY OF THE ate with public opinion ; it ordered the suspension of hostilities for the next day; it drafted a proclamation to the people. This proclamation, sent to the police, was posted up before morning. Reassured by these pacificatory measures, which he must believe efficacious, M. Thiers withdrew. M. Guizot, who had not yet left the palace, again entered the cabinet of the king; he remained there an hour longer, in close conversation with this prince. The object of this last interview between the prince and his minister is unknown. Without doubt it was forecasting for the future, rather than reverting to the past ; strong wills have illusions, never repent- ance. The genius of M. Guizot was chiefly force of will; this will might be broken, but not bent, even by the hand of God. At this moment Paris seemed hushed in silence and fatigue. The tocsin had ceased to sound ; a mute army, concentrated in the heart of the old city around the carre Saint-Martin, was breaking up the streets, was piling pavements, those field-fortifi- cations of the people ; innumerable barricades everywhere arose ; shots reverberated in the distance at the first dawnings of day. The Tuileries awakened at the sound of musketry. The tardy proclamation, posted up with difficulty in the revolted quarters, was not even signed. The people saw in it a snare to entrap them into the struggle. Instead of disarming, it arms, recruits, rallies and assembles, here in crowds, there in a column, ready for action. M. Thiers repairs to the Tuileries, in order to conclude the formation of his ministry. The principal members of the constitutional opposition, attached to liberty by principle, to the royalty by devotion, are found there, in company with several generals, who offer their sword for the perils of the day. Among those who arrive are seen Marshal Gerard, a veteran of the empire, the bosom-friend of the king, his counsellor and friend in days of difficulty ; General Lamoriciere, invested with the prestige which his name had won in Africa, and who commands a brigade of the army of Paris ; M. Duvergier de Hauranne, an eminent mem- ber of parliament, whose ambition is to inspire, rather than to wield power ; M. de Remusat, minister under M. Thiers ; M. Cremieux, M. de Lasteyrie, and several other members of the two Chambers. The danger seems thus to recall to the Tuiler- REVOLUTION OF 1848. 59 les men who had not crossed its threshold for a long time. It was an honorable but powerless effort to sustain a cause which was falling to ruins. A tumultuous council, interrupted every minute by new chance-comers, and modified incessantly by contradictory news from without concerning the situation of the city and the progress of the insurrection, is held in the saloons which are in front of the king's cabinet. The prince, harassed by the anxieties of the preceding day, and the agita- tions of the night, "sposes on a sofa for a few hours, wholly dressed, and amidst the murmurs of conversation, in which the topics of discussion are his victory, his defeat, or his abdication. VI. During this brief instant of the king's repose, hours brought new strength to the insurrection ; the rumor of a massacre of the people on the boulevard had swiftly spread, during the whole night, from heart to heart. The tocsin had diffused as far as the faubourgs that feverish agitation which leaves a man no sleep and no tranquillity ; every one was up, armed, ready and resolved for extremities. The students of Paris — that intel- ligence of the people which naturally takes the direction of the blind force of the masses — were in commotion within the inte- rior of their school ; they forced the gates, they issued by clus- ters from the Polytechnic School ; they fraternized with the bands of workmen, they put themselves at their head, and descended, to the singing of the Marseillaise and the Girondins, from their elevated quarter to the heart of Paris. A general inspiration of a people's soul seemed to lead them involuntarily to the military positions which could most embarrass the troops and rule the day ; each minute contracted the circle of iron and stone with which the barricades surrounded the palace and the approaches of the Tuileries; one would have said that the soil of the streets rose up itself to bury royalty beneath its pavements. Between ten and eleven o'clock in the morning, the troops concentrated on the two flanks of the Louvre, on the place du Palais Royal, and on the place de la Concorde, heard and saw unmoved the clamors and assaults of the multitude which swelled around the palace of the Tuileries, and the principal hotels of the government. The attitude of these troops was that of astonishment, fatigue, and sadness. The soldier who 60 HISTORY OF THE is not in action loses all the force of enthusiasm and transport; it is more difficult to await death than to brave it. The National Guard, divided, shovired itself in small num- bers, endeavored to exhort the crow^d to peace, and arrest the insurgents ; then, yielding to the pressure of the mass, to the contagion of example, and to their own habits of discontent, drew up to let the insurrection pass on ; saluted it encourag- ingly with gestures and shouts of Vive la Reforme ! and in some cases swelled it by their defections, authorized it by their uniforms, and armed it with their bayonets. The place du Palais Royal had just been taken by the peo- ple ; that palace, the ancient abode of the house of Orleans, was sacked by the victors ; the same people who had so often issued from its door in 1789, as from the cradle of the French revolution, and who had come there to seek a king in 1830, reentered it, after half a century, as an avenger of a fatal popu- larity. Furniture, pictures, statues, were destroyed for the sake of anger, rather than of pillage ; a battalion of infantry, which had evacuated the court, and traversed the square under firing from the windows, had withdrawn to the Chateau -d'Eau, already filled with wounded Municipal Guards ; a capitulation had soon after permitted them to come forth. The fire con- sumed this building, and some of the wounded, who could not move, expired, it is said, in the flames. All this took place at a few steps from numerous bodies of troops, motionless and stupefied, as it were, under the orders by which the king and his new minister prohibited combat. The place du Carrousel, and the court of the Tuileries, were occupied by in.antry, cavalry, and artillery. Those within the palace seemed confidently to expect that the news of a change of ministers and of promised concessions would suffice to pacify the revolt. M. Odilon Barrot passed along the boulevards, surrounded by several popular chiefs of the National Guard ; he hoped that his name, his presence, his voice, and his acces- sion to power, would be for public opinion a visible sign and sufficient pledge of victory and concord. But already the pro- longed agitation of the people, which had been excited at the banquets of his party, was overflowing this honorable and cour- ageous popularity ; he devoted himself to the peril of the dynasty. M. Barrot, everywhere respected as man, had been repulsed as conciliator ; he sadly returned to his dwelling. He was preparing to take to the ministry of the interior, at the call of o G £• ^' LIP3A8Y OF THE UNiv:n:..7o.- .uu!.,ois REVOLUTION OF 1343. 61 the king, a power broken in advance in his hands ; at the same moment a brave officer, M. de Prebois, burning with a desire to check the effusion of blood, threw himself, at the sole impulse of his devotion, before the waves of armed people which were flooding the place du Palais Ro)'al, in order to attack the Car- rousel. "What do you demand?" said he to them ; "what must 3^ou have in order to disarm you of these fratricidal weap- ons ? Royalty is making to public opinion all the concessions which can satisfy you. Do you wish reform? It is promised to you. Do you demand the removal of ministers ? They have been dismissed. Who, then, are the men of your confi- dence, in whose hands you find j^our liberties secure, and your wishes satisfied ? The king has just appointed M. Thiers. Are you contented ? " — " No ! no ! " replied the crowd. " He will appoint M. Barrot?" — "No! no!" cried the combatants. " But," resumed the peace-maker, "would you lay down your arms if the king takes M. de Lamartine?" — " Lamartine ! Vive Lamartine !" shouted the multitude. " Yes, yes, there is the man we need ; let the king appoint Lamartine, and all can yet be arranged. We have confidence in him." So much did the isolation of Lamartine in a narrow Chamber of Deputies discover his popularity, at that time, in the wide and deep judgment of the people. But neither the king, nor the Chamber, nor the opposition party of M. Thiers, nor the opposition party of M. Barrot, nor even the republican party of the National, or of the Reforme, had thought of presenting Lamartine to the people as minister, as pacificator, or as tribune. He was neither the man of the Tuile- ries, nor the man of the opposition journals, nor the man of the reform banquets, nor the man of conspiracies against royalty. He was feeble and alone, not suspecting that the unforeseen confidence of the people called him at that moment by his name. M. de Prebois, escaping from the armed bands which surrounded him, regained with difficulty the Tuileries, to relate to some courtiers what he had just seen and heard. But there was no longer time to deliberate upon the choice of this or that man, alienated from the court. The king was obliged to take at once whoever was at hand. Besides, Lamartine was the last man whom the king would have called to power, in an hour of anguish. This prince did not love M. de Lamartine, still less did he comprehend him. Behold the motives of this estrange- ment. 64 HISTORY OF THE self on a balcony with my grandchildren and my princesses, and I will see you die, true to yourself, to the throne, and to our misfortunes ! " The countenance of this much-loved wife and this mother, for so long a time happy, was animated for the first time with the energy of her two-fold love for her husband and her children. All her tenderness for them was concen- trated and impassioned in her care for their honor. Their lives came second in her regard. Her white hair, contrasting with the fire of her looks and with the animation that brought the ^olor to her cheeks, impressed on her face something tragic and holy, between the Athalie and the Niobe. The king calmed her by words expressing confidence in his own experi- ence and wisdom, which had never yet deceived him. At eleven o'clock he believed himself so sure of controlling the movement and reducing the crisis by a modification of the ministry, acceptable to the people, that he descended with a smiling face, and in undress costume, to the salle a manger to dine with his family. X. Hardly had the repast commenced, when the door was opened, and they saw, entering precipitately, two confidential and disinterested counsellors of the crown, designed, they say, by M. Thiers for the ministry. These were MM. de Romusat and Duvergier de Hauranne. They prayed the Duke of Mont- pensier to give them a private audience. The prince rose and ran towards the two negotiators. But the king and queen, unable to restrain their impatience, rose at the same time, looking at M. de Remusat with inquiring eyes, — " Sire," said he, " the king must know the truth. To be silent, at such a moment, would make me an accomplice in the affair. Your tranquillity proves that you are deceived. At three hundred paces from your palace, the dragoons are exchanging their sabres, and the soldiers their muskets, with the people." — " It is impossible ! " cried the king, recoiling with astonishment. An o^cer of ordnance, M. de L'Aubepin, says respectfully to the king, " I have seen it." At these words the whole family rose from the table. The king ascended, put on his uniform, and mounted his horse. His sons, the Duke of Nemours and the Duke of Montpensier, and a group of faithful generals, accompany him. He passes slowly in review the troops and the few battalions of the National iE VOLUTION OF 18 IS. 65 Guards that were stat oned on the place dii Carrousel and in the court of the Tuilerier . The aspect of the king was depressed ; that of the troops cold ; that of the National Guards undecided. Some cries of Vive le Roi, mingled with cries of Vive la Re- forme, came from the ranks. The queen and the princesses came out on a balcony of the palace, as Marie Antoinette on the morning of the 10th of August ; following with their eyes and hearts the king and princes, they saw the military salutes of the soldiers, who brandished their sabres along the front of the lines ; they heard also the dull echo of the cries, the words of which they could not understand. They believed in a return of enthusiasm, and reentered their apartments, filled with joy. But the king could not deceive himself as to the coldness of his reception. He had seen the dissatisfied or hostile faces. He had heard the cries of Vive la Rtfor7ne, and of a bos les ministrcs, rising from under the very feet of his horse, as a howitzer of the revolt, which was breaking out even at the gates of his palace. He returned, dejected and in consternation, fearing equally to provoke the struggle or to await it ; in that constrained inaction which holds men, and surrounds them with equal difficulties on every side ; situations where action alone can save, but where action itself is impossible. Despair is the presiding genius of desperate affairs. It was the misfortune of the king not to have despaired soon enough. He was accustomed to prosperity. This long prosperity of his long life failed him on the last day of his reign. a XL M. Thiers, witness of this accelerated catastrophe, waited on the king, to resign to him the power which was escaping from his hands before he had seized and exercised it. He felt the volatile popularity of a single night gliding from his name to another name. He proposed to the king M. Barrot alone. They could not go further towards the ppposition without abandoning the monarchy. M. Barrot had already proved before the people of the boulevards the weakness of a name. He neverthek ss devoted himself to the king, and to the task of pacification, rithout considering that he was about to throw away, in a few hours, a popularity of eighteen years. This immediate devoted abandonment of fortune marked a generosity of character and courage, which raises a man in the conscience 66 HISTORY OF THE of the future. A subject of raillery for the light men of the present day, a title of esttem for impartial posterity, M. Barrot, infoniied some moments after of his nomination by the king, did not hesitate to take possession of the ministry of the inte- rior, and to seize the shattered helm. At this moment, the king at the Tuileries was his own only counsellor. Three ministers had sunk beneath his hand in a few hours ; M. Guizot, M. Mole, M. Thiers. The queen, the princes, the deputies, the generals, the simple officers of the army and the National Guard, all pressed round him. They beset him with reports and intelligence, interrupted by other reports and conflicting intelligence. Paleness was on the cheeks, tears in the eyes of the women. The children of the royal family softened all hearts by the unconsciousness and security expressed in their faces. All betrayed, by their gestures, attitude, emotion and speech, that fluctuation of ideas and resolution which gives time for misfortune and discour- ages fidelity. The doors and windows of the apartment on the ground floor, opening on the court, allowed the soldiers and the National Guards to assist with eye and ear at this distress. Their moral courage might have been shaken by it. A veil should be thrown over the disordered thoughts of the king, and the confusion of his family, lest a contagious discour- agement should weaken the force of the bayonets. A citizen of the National Guard, who was on duty under the arch of the cabinet of the king, was melted to tears by this spectacle. A member of the opposition, almost a republican, but a man of feeling and eminently loyal, he sought progress, without desir- ing ruin. Above all, he did not wish that the cause of liberty should owe its triumph to a cowardly abandonment of an old man, of women and children, by those who were charged to protect them. He approached a lieutenant-general who commanded the troops. " General," said he to him, in a low voice, and with an emotion that rendered his accent imperious, " lead your troops beyond the reach of these scenes of grief. Soldiers must not witness the agony of kings ! " The general understood the meaning of these words ; he ordered his battal- ions to draw back. XII. The kmg, having ascended to his cabinet, was yet listening in turn to the opinions of M. Thiers, of M. d ; Lamoriciere, of » REVOLUTION OF 1S43. 67 M. de Remi sat and of the Duke of Montpensier, his younger son, when a prolonged discharge of musketry resounded from the extremity of the Carrousel, on the side of the ^^Zace dii Palais Royal. At this report, the door of the cabinet opened, and M. de Girardin hastened to the king. M. de Girardin, lately a deputy, now a publicist, — not so much a man of the opposition as a man of ideas ; not so much a man of revolution as a man of the crisis, — was hurried into the affair, where he found danger, vicissitudes of fortune, and greatness. He was of that small number of characters, who always seek an opportunity to enter on the stage, as it were, accidentally, since they are impatient from their activity, their energy, and their talent, and believe themselves equal to all emergencies. M. de Girardin had no fanaticism for royalty, nor antipathy to a republic. In politics he loved only action. Ambitious of intellectual superiority rather than office, of his character rather than power, he had come from no other call but his own impulse. The journal La Presse, which he edited, gave him a celebrity in Europe, and a publicity in Paris, which brought him constantly in connection with public opinion. He was one of those men who think aloud in the midst of the people, and whose every thought is the event or the contro- versy of the day. Antiquity had only the orators of the forum ; journalism has created the orators of the fireside. M. de Girardin, in few and emphatic words, which seemed to shorten minutes and silence objections, said to the king, with mournful respect, that groping among ministerial names was no longer in season ; that the hour carried with it the throne and the councils ; and that there was but one word which answered to the urgency of the insurrection, — Abdica- tion ! The king was in one of those moments when truths strike witJiout offending. He dropped, however, from his hands the pen with which he was combining the names of the ministers on the paper. He wished to discuss ; M. de Girardin, pressing as the occasion, pitiless as proof, did not even admit discussion. " Sire, the abdication of the king, or the abdication of the monarchy, — behold the dilemma! Time does not allow even a moment to seek a third issue to the affair." Thus speaking, M. de Girardin presented to the king a draught of a p oclamation, which he had just written and sent in advance to the press. This proclamation, concise as 68 HISTORY OF THE fact, merciless as proof, contained only these four lines, which must strike insta itly and everywhere the eye of the people. Abdication of the King. Regency of Madame the Duchess of Orleans. Dissolution of the Chambers. General Amnesty. The king hesitated. The Duke of Montpensier, his son, led on, without doubt, by the energetic expression of the countenance, gestures, and words of M. de Girardin, pressed his father with more urgency perhaps than royalty, age and misfortune, permit to the respect of a son. The pen was presented, the kingdom torn away by an impatience which did not wait the full and free conviction of the king. The rude- ness of fortune towards the king ought not to make itself felt in the precipitation of counsel. On the other hand, blood was flowing, the throne tottered. The very lives of the king and his family were at stake. All can be explained by the solicitude and tenderness of the counsellors. History ought always to receive the version which least humbles and crushes the human heart. XIII. At the sound of the musket-shots, Marshal Bugeaud mounts his horse, to interpose himself between the combatants. A thousand voices cry to him not to mount. They fear lest his presence and his name should be a new signal for carnage. He insists, he advances, he braves the presence and arms of the multitude. He returns without having obtained anything but admiration for his bravery. He dismounts his horse in the court of the Tuileries. His command no longer belonged to him. The Duke of Nemours had been invested with it. The young General Lamoricicre, who had upon his name only the prestige of his valor in Africa, galloped across the Carrou- sel. He overleaped the advanced posts in the midst of a cloud of bullets. He heroically attacked the first groups of the com- batants. While he harangues them, he is riddled with shots, his horse is overthrown ; his sword broken by the fall. The general, wounded in the hand, having his wound dressed in a neighboring house, remounts his horse, and traverses silently the square to announ '.e to the king that the troops are fatigued and the people are inaccessible to advice. Upon the retiring steps of Lamoriciere the people in fact R .VOLUTION OF 1S43. 69 poured out of the rue de Hohan, upon the Carrousel. They parleyed with the soldiers. The soldiers flowed back in disor- der, and hurried into the court of the Tuileries. The king- w^rites, in the midst of the noise of the i^urrection which ascends to him, these words : " I abdicate in favor of my grandson, the Count of Paris ; I desire that he may be more fortunate than I." XIV. This prince did not explain himself respecting the regency. Was it through respect for the law which he had caused to be passed in favor of the regency of his son, the Duke of Ne- mours ? Was it to leave between the people and the minis- ters a last point of concession to dispute and contend for, in order to gain time ? Was it to retain for his house, after him, a jealous power, which he did not wish to pass, according to nature and true policy, to tlie mother of his grandson, the Count of Paris ? We know not. M. Thiers had served the purpose of the king, in pronouncing w'ith a part of the opposition against the regency of the Duchess of Orleans. M. de La- martine had supported with energy the right of mothers. ' There is no good policy which is opposed to nature," cried he. He had been overcome by a feeble majority, through the com- bined influence of the court, and of the opposition attached to the court. Time sadly proved that he was right. The Duke of Nemours, appointed regent, although young, brave, highly educated, and laborious, was not loved by the people. Nature, while endowing him with intelligence, precocious wisdom, and the courage of his race, had denied him that openness of character which fascinates the heart. His reserve was not favorable to the appreciation of his good qualities. They could not be closely examined. This is only a fault in a pri- vate man ; it is a misfortune for a prince. Every one who iX)mes before the people should have prestige. The Duke of Nemours had only esteem. They saw in him a continuation of the virtues and faults of his father. In changing the king, they would not change the rule. The people wished to change it. This fault of -he king and of I\I. Thiers, in tearing the regency from th. young mother of the infant king, weighed fatally on this last hour of the reign. Louis Philippe and his minister perished from the want of foresight manifested by this 7 70 HISTORY OF THE act. If, insUvad of proposing to the people this ambiguous abdication, which was not explained as regards the regency, and which allowed the combatants to see the Duke of Nemours behind the abdication, M. de Girardin, who announced this act, had offered to the imagination and heart of the nation, a young widow and a young mother, reigning, through her grace and popularity, under the name of her son ; if this beloved princess, unassailed amid all these recriminations, had herself appeared in the court of the palace, and presented her child for the adoption of his country, there is no doubt but that na- ture would have triumphed over the people, for nature would have found an accomplice in the heart and glance of every combatant. Thus sleep for a long time the faults of kings and statesmen, to rise and overwhelm them unexpectedly at the hour when they believe them forgotten. XV. But the Duchess of Orleans, even at this last hour, was confined with her children in the apartments of the chateau she inhabited. The king feared the influence of this woman, young, beautiful, serious, enveloped in her mourning, irre- proachable in her conduct, voluntarily exiled from the world, lest the unconscious radiance of her royalty, of her grace, and her spirit, should draw the thoughts of the country upon her, and mark her for the jealousy of the court. This princess ived enclosed with her maternity and her grief. She could .lot fail, however, to perceive the last faults of the reign, and to become alarmed for the future destiny of her children. She must have also felt grievously the harshness of this law of regency, demanded and voted against her, which took from her, together with the political guardianship of her son, the opportunity of showing to the world those great qualities with which she was endowed. But this bitterness lay concealed in her heart, without transpiring. Her lips had never let fall a single complaint. She reposed her pride in her resignation, her merit in her silence. M. de Lamartine, the unknown defender of hi natural rights in the discussion of the law of regency, had iever had any correspondence with this princess. He had never even received from her a sign of assent or grati- tude for the disinterested and wholly political homage which he had rendered her from the tribune. They assure us that for some time M. Thiers, discontented with the court, and EEVOLUT ON OF 1848, 71 perhaps repenting the part he had taken for the regency of the Duke of Nemours, turned his thoughts upon this princess. It is possible that the increasing disaffection towards the princes had caused this statesman to reflect, and that he hoped, in fact, to revive the monarchical sentiment through the popularity of a woman and a child. We cannot say. This thought was sufBciently indicated by nature, for a just mind to return to it, after having wandered from it. As to M. de Girardin, he had sustained, with great force of talent and perseverance, in his journal, the system which M. de Lamartine sustained by speaking from the tribune. After he had seen the Duchess of Orleans, he carried away from those brief and rare interviews a conviction more fully con- firmed by his admiration for that princess. Yet never had a single word of hers revealed a suffering ambition or a bitterness concealed. Her griefs were free not only from all conspiracy, but even from all ambition. She had shown the serenity and disinterestedness of a mother who forgets herself entirely among the reminiscences of her husband and the hopes for her son. Yet one may believe that in forcing with so much precipitation from the king that vague abdication which did not transfer the reign to any one, M. de Girardin, and perhaps M. Thiers with him, made an involuntary movement towards the regency of the young widow, and waited to see it proclaimed by the voice of the people. XVI. This idea, if it existed, miscarried before its birth. A mis- take destroyed it. The precipitation, natural at such moments, caused them to forget to affix any signature to that procla- mation which M. de Girardin threw among the crowd upon the Carrousel and upon the place du Palais-Royal. In vain he braved fire and sword to obtain this truce. The crowd, after having read the manuscripts of abdication, seeing no sanction to their promises, took them for a ruse, and constantly advanced. The son of the Admiral Baudin, going with M. de Girardin to publish these proclamations on the place de la Concorde, was repulsed with the same i^credulity and the same perils. The king was consumed with impatience ; he received a last ray of .jope from the arrival of an old servant, who had become the friend of the king, and remained the friend of the people of Paris. It \»as Marshal Gerard, an old and simple man, who had passed from the battle-fields of the empire into this court 72 HISTORY OF THE without having lost the memory of liberty For a long time heartily devoted to the king, he had lost neither the indepen- dence nor the color of his opinions. Brave as a soldier, popular as a tribune. Marshal Gerard was truly the man for the last hour. " Go before these masses," said the king to him, " and announce to them my abdication." The marshal, clothed in a dull-colored morning dress of the bourgeoise fashion, vith a round hat upon his head, mounts the horse which Marshal Bugeaud had just left in the court-yard. General Duchant, a brilliant officer of the empire, celebrated for his martial beauty and his bravery, accompanies the Marshal Gerard. They sally from the gate. They are received by cries of " Vivent hs braves.''' The old marshal recognized in the crowd Colonel Dumoulin,an ancient officer of the emperor; an adventurous man, led on by the giddiness of enthusiasm and intoxicated by excitement ; he calls him by name. " Come," said he, " my dear Dumoulin, behold the abdication of the king, and the regency of the Duchess of Orleans, which I bring to the people. Aid me to make them accept it." Saying these words, the marshal offers a paper to Colonel Dumoulin. But the republican Lagrange, more active than Dumoulin, seizes the proclamation from the hand of the gen- eral, and disappeared without communicating it to the people. The republic would perhaps have been arrested before the name of a woman. XVII. Yet the king, who had promised M. de Girardin, his sons, and the ministers, who surrounded him in their terror, to abdi- cate, had not yet finished the formal writing of his abdication. He seemed to await other counsel, more conformable to his habitually temporizing policy, and still to contend with fate. One circumstance nearly justified his delays, and reestablished him and his dynasty on the throne. Marshal Bugeaud, again galloping across the court of the Tuileries, like the harbinger of grateful news, threw himself from his horse and entered, almost with violence, the disordered cabinet, filled with the late ministers and the present counsellors of the monarch. He penetrated the crowd, and came into the presence of the king. Let us go back one night, and see what had thus far been the course of action of Marshal Bugeaud. The marshal, as we have seen above, had had for some mo- ments the general command of the National Guards and the REVOLUTION OF 1848. 73 troops. At two o'clock in the morning they brought him his nomination to this post. Pie immediately mounted his horse, and ordered his staff to head-quarters to form his plan and give the order of battle. The staff were absent ; generals, officers and soldiers, all reposed, after the fatigues of the two preceding days, sleeping in their cloaks upon the square, or in the small apartments and on the flat roofs of the immense Louvre. The marshal lost much time before he could collect a few generals and ofiicers of the staff, and obtain information of the number and position of the troops under his command. The number of these troops, which they believed at least fifty thousand men, did not exceed thirty-five thousand active troops. Deducting the number of soldiers destined to guard the forts and barracks, together with those out of the service for various causes, they did not find but about twenty-five thousand combatants of all arms. Troops enough to be opposed to the scattered and confused masses, which had no discipline to unite them, which were stationed as they were formed ; but troops already worn out from being stationed for forty-eight hours in the mud, benumbed with cold, exhausted by hunger, laboring under doubt, uncer- tain which side was right, ashamed to desert the king, in consternation at wagmg war on the people, waiting to regu- late their conduct by the movements of the National Guards, who were themselves wavering between the two armies. The marshal, with his military instinct ripened by reflection and enlightened by experience in the management of troops, knew that inactivity was the destruction of the moral strength of armies. He changed at once the plan, or, as it were, the chance-movements, thus far pursued. He called to him the two generals who commanded these corps. The one was Tiburce Sebastiani, brother of the marshal of that name, a calm and devoted officer. The other was General Bedeau, distinguished in Africa, and who bears a name highly respected by his companions in arms at Paris. He ordered them to form two columns of three thousand five hundred men each, and to advance into the heart of Paris, the one by the streets which run along the boulevards and terminate at the Hotel de Ville ; the other by the streets approaching nearer to the quays. Each of these columns had artillery. The generals must carry, as they advanced, all the barricades they met in the'r path, raze the fortresses of insurrection, sweep the masses, avA concentrate themselves on the Hotel de Ville, the decisive po." • tion of the day. General Lamoriciere must command t) 7* 74 " HISTORY OF THE reserve of aboat nine thousand men in the precincts of the palace. The king and M. Thiers had already called and nominated Lamoriciere, as a young man, recently become celebrated, and impatient to signalize himself, before the arrival of the marshal at the staff. This young general and Marshal Bu- geaud had had grave dissensions in Africa. The cooperation of the chief and the lieutenant might have been endangered by collisions, had they not both of them subjected their resentment to their devotion for the king. They acted with a military frankness worthy of them. The marshal, seeing Lamoriciere appear in the group of general officers under his command, advanced towards him and extended his hand. " I hope," said he, " my dear lieutenant, that we have left our differences in Africa, and that we have here only our mutual esteem and our devotion to our duties as soldiers." Lamoriciere, worthy of comprehending words like these, was moved even to tears. The tears of the soldier are but those of courage. Touched to the heart, Lamoriciere united his counsels with those of the marshal. xvin. At the dawn of day the two columns set out. Every mo- ment officers of the staff, disguised as citizens or mechanics, brought the news of their progress to the general-in-chief. These columns did not meet wath resistance up to the precincts of the Hotel de Ville. They penetrated the crowd, which opened before them, with cries of " Vive Varmte I vive la reforme 1 " They overcame, without opposition, the commencement of the barricades, destroyed beneath their feet. New masses of the people, armed, but inoffensive, present themselves before them at all the great outlets of the streets. The two generals, hav- ing no pretext to fight them, did not dare to disperse them with the bayonet or cannon. The troops and the people thus stood in each other's presence, conversations were held, and false news circulated. The desire for peace which exists in the hearts of citizens of one country and of 'he same opinions, the horror of blood uselessly shed at the Hotel de Ville, while at the Tuile- ries they were, perhaps, already reconciled by political combina- tions, or by an abdication, weakened the orders in the hearts of the generals, and the arms in the hands of the soldiers. The marshal, constrained by the reiterated commands of the king, ordered his lieutenants to return. General Bedeau H EVOLUTION OF 184S. 7o made his battalions fall back. Some soldiers, they say, threw away their guns, as a sign of fraternal disamning, before the people. Their return through Paris had thus the air of a defection, or of a vanguard of the revolution itself marching on the Tuileries. These troops, already vanquished by this movement, came back, however, untouched, but powerless, to regain their positions on the place de la Concorde, in the Champs Elysees, and in the rue de Eivoli. The French army, when humbled, is no longer an army. It felt in its heart the bitterness of this retreat, — it retains it still. XIX. The marshal, reduced to inactivit}^, in obedience to the king and ministers, hoped to repress by his presence and his words the masses who were trjnng to enter the Carrousel. Twice, as we have seen, he rode on horseback before them, and tv\"ice, received with cries of " Vive le vainqueur d'lsly" he endeavored to persuade them to await the result of the deliberation of the ministers. Once, insulted with the name of butcher of the people, in the rue Transnonain, he went to the person who was shouting it, took up the injury, and proved that he was a stranger to the cruelties committed in these evil days, and he regained the respect and popularity of the masses. Lamoriciere, in his turn, rushed, alone, upon his horse into the troubled waves of these multitudes, harangued them, and came back vanquished, but honored in his exertions for peace. During these scenes upon the Carrousel, the insurgents, find- ing the boulevard and the rue de la Madeleine free, collected in masses as far as the entrance of the place de la Concorde, burned the guard-houses that bordered the Champs Elystes, fired on the posts, and massacred the Municipal Guards, odious to the people, since they were the visible instruments of repress- ing all the disorders and commotions of Paris. These unfor- tunate soldiers died under the swords of their murderers at the posts and in the hotel of the Minister of Marine. Their cries of distress called for defenders and avengers from the battalions and squadrons stationed n the neighborhood. The officers and soldiers called for the order of march upon the murderers. The chiefs, bound by their instructions, hesitated to repulse these assailants, and confined themselves to saving the lives of the ]Municipal Guards, under the shelter of their swords. So much did the ministers fear to give, by resistance, a pretext for 76 HISTORY OF THE the general conflagration of Paris. But this blood shed with impuni;;y did not extinguish it. It only added fuel to the fire, and threw into consternation at the same time victory and defeat. It was eleven o'clock ; at this moment they came to announce to the marshal that the king had revoked his command, and that Marshal Gerard commanded in his stead. He yielded impatiently to these orders. He ran to the king, to represent to him the danger of abdicating after a defeat. On entering the Tuileries, they announced to him the abdication. He rushed, as we have seen, into the cabinet. He was at the side of the king. XX. This prince, seated before a table, held a pen in his hand. He wrote slowly his abdication, with care and symmetry, in large letters, which seemed to carry on the paper the majesty of the royal hand. The ministers of the evening, of the night and the day, the courtiers, the official counsellors, the princes, the princesses, the children of the royal family, all crowded the apartment in confusion, with agitated groups, conversing and whispering. Their faces bore the expression of terror which hurried their resolutions, and broke their strength of character. They were in one of those hours of extremity when hearts are revealed in their nudity ; when the mask of rank, of title, and dignity, falls from their faces, and allows their nature to be seen, often degraded with fear. They hear in the distance, rising above the noise of the chamber, shots already resounding at the end of the court of the Louvre. A ball whistles by the experienced ear of the marshal. It buries itself in the roof. The marshal does not infonn those who surround him of the evil signification of the noise. The palace of kings might become a battle-ground ; in his eyes it was a moment to fight, and not to capitulate. " Ah ! how, sire," said he to the king, " have they dared to counsel you to abdicate in the midst of a combat ? Do they not know, then, that it is to counsel you more than ruin — shame ? Abdication, in the calm and freedom of deliberation, is sometimes the safety of an empire, and the wisdom of a king. Abdication, under the fire of muskets — that always re- sembles weakness ; and further," continued he, " this weakness, which your enemies will construe as cowardice, wiU be useless now. The combat is engaged, here is no means of announc- REVOLUTION OT 1848. 7'' ing this abdication to the numerous masses of insurgents, and a word spoken to their first lines would not stop the impulse. Let us reestablish order first, and deliberate afterwards." " Ah, well," said the king, rising at these words, and press- ing with emotion the hand of the marshal, " you then forbid me to abdicate !" " Yes, sire," replied the brave soldier, with respectful energy ; *' I dare to advise you not to yield, at this moment, at least, to a project which can save nothing, and may ruin all." The king appeared radiant with joy at seeing his opinion partaken and authorized by the firm and warlike words of his general. " Marshal," said he, with tenderness, and in a voice a'-most suppliant, " pardon me for having broken your sword in your hands by withdrawing from you the command to bestow it on Gerard. He was more popular than you !" " Sire," replied General Bugeaud, " let him save your majesty, — I will never en\'y him your confidence." The king no longer approached the table, and seemed to renounce the idea of abdication. The groups of counsellors were in consternation. They attached to this idea, some of them their safety, others the safety of royalty, others again, perhaps, that of their private ambition. All, at least, saw in it one of those solutions which make a momentary diversion of the crisis, and which relieve the mind from the weight of long uncertainty. The Duke of Montpensier, the king's son, who appeared swayed even more than the others by impatience for a catas- trophe, attached himself closer to his father, beset him with importunities and gestures almost imperious, to induce him to reseat himself, and to sign. That attitude, those words, remain in the memory of the witnesses as one of the most painful impressions of the scene. The queen alone, amid this tumult and this confusion of timid counsels, preserved the dignity, the coolness, and resolution of her rank, as mother, Avife, and queen. After having opposed, with the marshal, the project of a precipitate abdication, she yielded to the urgency of the crowd, and retired into the embrasure of a window, whence she regarded the king, with indignation on her lips and heavy tears in her 2yes. The king granted his abdication to his ministers, and joined the queen in the embrasure of the saloon. He was no longer king. Yet no one had legal authority to seize the rule. The 78 HISTORY OF THE people no longer ma rched to fight against the king, but against royalty. In a word, the abdication came too soon or too late. Marshal Bugeaud, before departing, repeated the observation respectfully to the king. " I know it, marshal," said the prince, " but I do not wish that blood should be longer shed for my cause." The king was brave in person. This speech was not a pretence under which he covered his flight, nor a mark of cowardice. This speech should console the exile, and soften the verdict of history. What God approves, men should not dare to blame. XXI. The king took off his uniform, and his decorations. He laid his sword upon the table. He put on a simple black dress, and offered his arm to the queen, to leave the palace to a new reign. The stifled sobs of the spectators alone interrupted the silence of this last moment. Without dazzling prestige as a king, this prince was loved as a man. His long experience gave confidence to the mind. His attentive familiarity strongly attached the heart. His old age, abandoned by fortune for the first time, moved compassion. A political superstition was ter- rified at the sight of this last fugitive from the throne. They thought they saw depart with him the wisdom of the empire. The queen, hanging on his arm, showed herself proud to fall in her place with the husband and the king, who had been, and who remained, without throne or country on the earth. This aged pair, united in prosperity and exile, were more touching, with their gray hair, than a pair of youthful sovereigns entering the palace of their power and their future. Hope and happiness have splendor. Old age and misfortune are two majesties. The one dazzles, the other melts. The republicans, even, would have wept over the last steps of this father and mother driven from the hearth where they expected to leave their children. The by-standers kissed their hands. They touched their garments. Brave soldiers, who went an hour afterwards to serve the republic, — such as Admiral Baudin and Lamoriciere, — moistened with their tears the footsteps of the king. The queen, when receiving these farewells, could not, they say, refrain from reproaching M. Thiers, whose indi- rect opposition to the king had deeply wounded her womanly heart. " Oh ! Monsieur, you do not deserve so good a king. His only vengeance is to fly before his enemies." The ancient minister of a dynasty, which he had in fact es- KEVOLL'TION OF 1848. 79 tablishe.l and overturned, respected the grief of a wife and a mother, refrained from all reply, and bowed himself in silence, at this adieu. Did these Avords fill the hearers with remorse for a too personal opposition to the crown, or with compassion for the blindness of courts ? Their silence alone can tell. XXII. At the moment of passing the threshold of his cabinet, the king, turning towards the Duchess of Orleans, who rose to follow him, "Helen," said he, "remain!" The princess threw herself at his feet, to conjure him to take her with him. She forgot royalty, to think only of the father of her husband. She was no longer a princess — she was a mother. It was in vain. ]M. Cremieux, an eloquent and active deputy of the opposi- tion, had hastened to the chateau, to give counsel at the last crisis, and interpose between civil war and the crown. At these words, he hurried to the king, and seizing his arm, " Sire," said he, with an inquiring tone, that commanded a reply, " it is well understood, is it not, that the regency belongs to the Duchess of Orleans?" "No," replied the king; "the law gives the regency to the Duke of Nemours, my son ; it does not belong to me to change a law. It is for the nation to do, in this respect, whatever may conduce to its pleasure and its safety ;" and he continued to ad- vance, leaving behind him a problem. The regency decreed to his son had been one of the cares of his reign. He felt humiliated to leave after him, for some years, the government to a woman foreigia to his race. Per- haps, also, his far-reaching foresight made him believe that the difference of religion, which existed between the duchess and the nation, portended troubles to the state, and aversion to his grandson. This prince, thoughtful by nature, had experienced for more than twenty years the solitude of the exile, which he occupied with reflecting on the future. Prudence was his genius ; it was also his defect. We can truly say, that the excesses of prudence for his dynasty were the three principal causes of his fall : the fortifications of Paris, which remotely menaced liberty : the marriage of the Duke of Montpensier in Spain, portending a war of succession for the interest of his dynas'.y : lastly, the regency, given to the Duke of Nemours, which took from the cause of monarchy, at this moment, the innocence of a young woman, and the interest for a child, those infallible illusions for the people. 80 HI3T0KY OF THE XXIIl. The duchess, kneeling- before the king, remained a long time in this attitude. They had sent to seek carriages in the court- yard. The people had already burned them, as they passed, on the place du Carrousel. A discharge from the insurgents had killed the coachman who went to find them. It was necessary to change this mode of departure. The king went out by the gate of a subterranean passage that led from his apartments to the garden of the Tuileries. He crossed on foot this same garden which Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, and their children, had traversed on the morning of the tenth of August, when flying for refuge to the National As- sembly, — road to the scaffold or to exile, which kings never re- trace. The queen consoled the king by a few words pronounced in a low voice. A group of faithful sen^ants, of officers, women, and children, followed in silence. Two small carriages, taken at random by an officer in disguise, from the streets where they were stationed for the public service, were posted at the outlet of the Tuileries, at the end of the terrace. The strength of the queen's nerves, over-excited by the long crisis, failed as she came out into the open air. She sobbed, she reeled, she fell at the last step. It was necessary for the king to raise her in his arms to place her in the carriage ; he mounted after her. The Duchess of Nemours, the grace and beauty of this court, all in tears, mounted with her children into the second carriage, seeking with restless eye for her husband, who was exposed to the difficulties and dangers to which his duty called him. A squadron of cuirassiers guarded the two can'iages. They started at a gallop upon the quai de Passy. At the extremity of the Champs Elysees, some shots saluted the retinue from a dis- tance, and struck down two horses of the escort, under the very eyes of the king. They fled towards St. Cloud. XXIV. The Duke of Nemours remained near the Duchess of Orleans, more anxious for the fate of this princess and of his nephews intrusted to his prudence than for the advancement of his own ambition. This unpopular prince proved himself alone worthy of popularity by his disinterestedness and courage. The Car- rousel and the courts were henceforth without defenders. The chateau broken open might become the sepulchre of the Duchess REVOLUTION OF 1S48. SI of Orleans and her children ; the Duke of Nemours had hence- forth the responsibility of all these lives and of the blood of the people. The members of the opposition collected under the peristyle of the pavilion de I'Horloge. They sunmioned tho troops to retire, and to deliver the palace to the National Guard. The prince, convinced that the armed and conquering people. of the civic soldiery could alone overawe the insurgents, gave the order. The troops retired in silence, and fell back through the garden. The Duke of Nemours remained the last, to protect the departure of the Duchess of Orleans. AVhile the evacuation of the chateau by the troops was thus effected, a small number of officers and counsellors, some de- voted to the dynasty, others to the person, and still others to the misfortune alone of a woman, deliberated in the presence of the Duchess of Orleans and her children. There were seen General Gourgaud, friend of the Emperor, the voluntary com- panion of his exile at St. Helena, accustomed to misfortune and fidelity, a son of Marshal Ney, M. d'Elchingen, MM. de Mont- gu3'on, Villa umez and De Bois Milon. Three cannon-shots shook the windows of the apartment. The duchess gave a cry. It wa 5 the artillery in retreat, firing on the people, debouching from the quay upon the Carrousel. The princess sent General Gourgaud to stop the firing. The cannoniers extinguished their matches in token of peace. General Gourgaud reentered the palace. M. Dupin followed him. M. Dupin, less a jurist than a legislator, for a long time president of the Chamber of Deputies, an eminent orator, the living tradition of the spirit of resistance and constitu- tional liberty which formerly characterized Harlay, Mole, and I'Hopital, a democrat in manners and customs, a royalist in habit and feeling, had been, since 1S15, the domestic counsel- lor and friend, at intervals rude and caressing, of the Duke of Orleans, who became king. The austerity of his speech, the bitterness of his sarcasms, had concealed from the eyes of the country the condescension of his personal attachment to the royal family. He avenged himself on the ministers of the crown by his influence with ;;he king. His popularity, com- promised by the court, returned to him through his forensic independence. Learned, eloquent, able, the oracle of the magistracy, inflexible in tone, yielding to revolutions, feared by the weak, respected by the powerful, equal to all emergen- cies, M. Dupin was one of the great authorities of public opinion. Wherever he went, many others went with him 8 aa HISTORY 0/ THE He presented hitiself at the decisive hour when the revolu- tion desired a standard. He naturally found it in this woman and this child. No hand was more suited to hold it, and cause its adoption. The duchess saw him enter as an augury of strength and peace. " Ah ! monsieur, what do you come to tell me," cried slie. — "I come to tell you, madam," replied M. Dupin, with the accent of a sad but strong hope, " that, perhaps, the part of a second Maria Theresa is reserved for you." — "Guide me, sir," said the princess ; " my life belongs to France and to my children." — "Ah, well, madam, let us go; there is not a moment to lose. Come to the Chamber of Deputies." It was, in fact, the only course the duchess could pursue. The regency, already lost in the streets, might be found again in the Chamber of Deputies, if the chamber, discredited with the nation by the spirit of the court, had preserved sufficient ascendency to stay the monarchy in its fall. The presence of a woman, the graces and innocence of a child, were more win- ning than all their speeches. Eloquence in action is compas- sion. The bloody mantle of Csesar, hung out from the tribune, is less moving than a tear of a young and beautiful woman presenting an infant orphan to the representatives of a feeling people. The Duke of Nemours, after having received the adieus of his father, and covered his departure with his person, entered the palace as the last battalion of troops defiled from the Carrousel through the garden and the quay. XXV. The duchess set out. She held by the hand the Count of Paris, her eldest son. The Duke of Chartres, her other child, was carried in the arms of an aid-de-camp. The Duke of Nemours, ready at every sacrifice, to save his sister-in-law and the royalty of his ward, walked at the side of the princess. M. Dupin accompanied her on the other side. Some officers of the household followed in silence. A valet-de-chambre, named Hubert, attached to the children, was the whole escort of this regency. This reign had only to pass over the space between the roya gardens and the palace of the representatives, before it was engulfed with the throne. Hardly had the princess traversed two thirds of the garden, when a column of republicans, who had been fighting since REVOLUTION OF 1843. 83 the evening, constantly increasing and concentrating, entered the palace in spite of the troops, filled the halls, swept away the vestiges of royalty, proclaimed the republic, raised the flag which served as a canopy for the throne, and makinn- but a short halt in the palace they had carried, immediately formed to march on the Chamber of Deputies, upon the foot- steps of the regent. It was ths column commanded by Captain Dunoyer, who seemed to mulitiply himself through the strug- gles of that day. BOOK IV. I. Let us retrace, for a few moments, the rapid and multita- dinous course of events, and narrate what was, at the same time, passing at the Chamber of Deputies, Lamartine, a stranger to every kind of conspiracy against the monarchy, fell asleep overnight in consternation at the blood shed on the boulevard, but firmly convinced that the night which had brought a truce to the conflict, and the day which was going to declare new concessions on the part of royalty, would pacify the movement. Without party in the Chamber, without accomplice in the street, retained by indis- position, he had no thought of emerging from his inaction. What signified his presence in the assembly, to hear only the names and the ordinary programme of a new ministry ? The events that were passing were out of his sphere ; he learned them, like the public, with indiflTerence or with joy, according as they appeared to serve or to injure the disinterested cause which was dear to his heart. Some of his colleagues came to him, from time to time, to recount the incidents of the two days. None of them foresaw a final catastrophe to the dynasty. They limited their conjec- tures to the names and the projects of the ministers imposed on the king by a prolonged sedition. At half-past ten, however, one of his friends hurried to announce to him that it was feared there would be an inva- sion of the people at the Chamber of Deputies, Lamartine arose at this news, little as he credited such impotence on the part of the fifty thousand troops who were supposed to be concentrated in Paris, But the danger that might be antici- pated for his colleagues made the sharing of it his duty. The popularity of esteem which he enjoyed within and outside the Chamber might render his presence useful and his intervention a shield for the life of citizens or of deputies. The political question seemed to him of no account for the moment. He HISTORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF .843. 85 came forth from an instinct of honor, and not a political motive. He believed the crisis unfolded. " Yesterday was a twentieth of June," said he, in going out ; " it certainly presages a tenth of August. A royalty disarmed, which capitulates under firing, is no longer a royalty. The tenth of August is upon our steps but it is still at a distance." He repaired alone on foot to th« Chamber of Deputies. A lowering and dark sky, pierced from time to time by a flash of winter sunlight, resembled the for- tune of the day ; it was dubious and stormy : the streets were deserted ; a few outposts of infantry, with their feet in the mud, and of cavalry, enveloped in their white mantles, with the bridle on the bent neck of their horses, occupied in small numbers the adjacent parts of the Chamber. They allowed him to pass. While traversing the place du Palais de I'Assemblee, he heard the rumbling of a carriage, and cries of "Vive Barrot ! Vive la Reforme !" made him turn his head. He stopped. A hired coach, rickety and covered with mud, drawn with diffi- culty by two overburdened horses, passed before him; he recognized, on the seat beside the coachman, M. Pagnerre, president of the committee of the opposition party in Paris ; behind the carriage, two or three well-dressed citizens waved their hats or handkerchiefs, and made signs to the passers by that all was quieted. A small group of people, composed prin- cipally of young men and boys, followed the wheels, uttering shouts of joy. On the back seat of the carriage, the pensive and pale countenance of M. Odilon Barrot bore witness to the agitation of his thoughts and the sleeplessness of his night ; he was repairing courageously to his post at the Ministry of the Interior, uncertain whether he was followed by the pacifi- cation or the revolt of the multitude. He knew the king had fled, and the palace had been forced > but he pursued his duty, without casting a look behind. Such an hour redeems many a hesitation. The heart of this chief of the opposition never shared in the fluctuations of his mind, and the fluctuations of his mind were never, it is said, aught save the scruples of his conscience. n. Lamartine looked, lamented in his heart, and passed on. Under the vault of a peristyle of the Chamber of Deputies, two generals on horseback, sword in hand, their countenances excited by riding, their clothes bespattered with mud, had just met, and were conversing aloud as they shook hands ; one was 8* 86 HISIORY OF THE Perrot, general of cavalry, the other unrec(.gnized ; — " Well, general," said one of the officers to his colleague, " what news on your side ?" — " Nothing serious," replied General Perrot ; " the groups on the place de la Concorde are very few in num- ber, and waver at the least concussion of my squadrons ; be- sides, the best troops in Europe could not force the bridge." While the general thus spoke, he was not yet aware of the departure of the king, the quiescence of the generals who com- manded on the other side of the river, and the occupation of the chateau. Events had outstripped hours. Lamartine, reassured on the fate of the Chamber by these words caught in passing, crossed thu court, and entered within the palace. Seven or eight persons awaited him under the vestibule ; they were for the most part journalists of the opposition, and a few active men signalized, since 1S30, by their republican opin- ions corresponding to those of the journal Le National. M. de Lamartine had never had relations with that journal ; the injus- tice of its conductors, in regard to him, often resembled a deaf hostility ; the National painted Lamartine as an ambitious orator, flattering the opposition to procure popularity for him- self, but disposed to surrender this popularity to the court for the sake of obtaining power. Oftener it adorned the orator with flowers, in order the better to efface the politician. It rarely missed an occasion to add, as a corrective to exaggerated praise of his talent, contempt of his views. It affected to class the deputy among the poets whom Plato excluded from his republic. On his part, Lamartine mistrusted the noisy opposi- tion of this journal ; he thought he saw, beneath this emphatic rage against the throne, certain artifices, perhaps a certain secret understanding with the parliamentary party of M. Thiers. He was doubtless mistaken ; but an opposition with such alli- ances seemed to him as fatal to the constitutional monarchy as to the republic ; he liked questions clearly laid down. The ambiguity of parliamentary coalitions was repugnant to him in journalism as well as in the Chamber. As to the journalists of La Reforme, Lamartine knew them only by the aspersions and burlesques that this journal, more frank in tone but extreme and bitter in its opinions, made on his discourses. He had only had occasion to see five or six times his colleague at the Chamber, M. Lsdru Rollin, the in- spirer and political man of this journal. These relations, inde- pendent of politics, had brought him no nearer on any point to C REVOLUTION OF 1843. 87 the spirit of La Reforme. He had refused to associate himself with the banquets at Dijon and at ChaloTzs, presided over by JNI. Ledru Rollin and M. Flocon. He had forcibly censured, in the journal of his department, the evil omens, the posthumous appeals, the sharp words, of these banquets ; he had praised, in the party of La Reforme, only its frankness of opposition and its talent ; he had broken in advance with its doctrines. m. The group of republicans who surrounded Lamartine at his entrance within the passages of the Chamber demanded of him a secret and instant interview in a retired hall of the palace. M. de Lamartine conducted them there. The doors were closed ; most of these men were known to him only by sight. One of them spoke in the name of all. " Time presses," said he ; " events are suspended in uncer- tainty. We are republicans. Our convictions, our thoughts, our lives, are devoted to the republic. This is not the time for us to disavow this common cause of the people and ourselves, for which our brethren have been shedding their blood for three days. It will always be the soul of our souls, the supreme object of our hope, the determined tendency of our acts and of our writings — in one word, we will never abandon it. But we may adjourn and suspend it in view of interests, superior in our eyes to the republic itself, the interests of our country. Is France ripe for this form of government ? Will she accept it without resistance ? Or will she incline to it without vio- lence ? In a word, is there not perhaps more danger in launch- ing it to-morrow in the plenitude of its institutions, than in retaining it on the threshold, in showing it from afar, and caus- ing it to be more passionately desired ? This is the state of our minds — these our scruples ; let us satisfy them. We do not know you, we do not flatter you, but we esteem you. The people invoke your name. They have confidence in you • you are, in our eyes, the man for the crisis. What you say shall be decreed. What you will shall be done. The reign of Louis Philippe is ended. No reconciliation is possible between him and us. But can a continuance of temporary royalty un- der the name of a child, the feeble hand of a woman, and the direction of a pofular minister, the delegate of the people, close the crisis and introduce the nation to a republic, under the vain name of monarchy ? Will you be that minister ? the guardian SS HISTORY OF THE of dying mcnarchy and the birth of liberty, governing this woman, this child, and this people ? The republican party is fairly pledged to you by our voices. We are ready to entei into a solemn engagement to place you in power, by the hence- forth invincible hand of the revolution which is muttering at these doors, to sustain you in it, to render your position perma- nent by our votes, our journals, our secret societies, and forces disciplined in the bosom of the people. Your cause shall be ours. The minister of a regency for France and for Europe, you shall be the minister of the true republic for us." IV. The excited and sincere orator was silent. His colleag-ues testified their assent to his words by their silence and their gestures. Lamartine asked a moment's reflection, to weigh in his mind a resolution and responsibility so terrible. He leaned his elbows on the table, and hid his forehead in his hands. He mentally invoked the inspiration of one who alone never de- ceives himself. He reflected, almost without respiration, for five or six minutes. The republicans remained standing oppo- site to him, and grouped about the table. Lamartine finally removed his hands, raised his head, and said to them : " Gentlemen, our situations, our precedents are very different, and our parts here are very singular. You are old republicans at all hazard. I am not a republican of that school. And yet at this moment I am going to be more republican than you. Let us understand each other. Like you, I regard a republi- can government, that is, the government of nations by their own reason and their own will, the only aim and the only end of exalted civilization ; as the only instrument of the advance- ment of the great general truths which a nation would incor- porate in its laws. Other forms of government are regents and guardians of the eternal minority of nations, imperfections in the eye of philosophy and humiliations in that of history. But I have none of the impatience of a man who would move faster than ideas ; no absolute fanaticism for this or that form of government. All I desire is that these forms should advance constantl}-, neither before nor behind the head of the col- umn of the people, but keeping fully up to the ideas and instincts of an epoch. I am not, therefore, an absolute repub- lican like yourselves, but I am a politician. Well, it is as a LIBRARY OF THE UNIVlRSITY of ILLImOIS f ."^ ' ^ \ \ I 1 \«;1 ^Uliliiilil^i. :l:ll' •li'il ill li-'t ii- ii 'i'.-iS.U-' — :.;-'N s/t^' ^ H^ il -^i:-..i '■■< 'i'"' l> LAMABTINE'S INTERVIEW WlfH THE UEPUBLICANS. Vol. 1, p. 88. RESOLUTION OF 1848. 89 politician that I now think it my duty to refuse the support you are willing to offer me, for the adjournment of the republic, if it were to be displayed in an hour. It is as a politician that I declare to you that I do not conspire, that I do not overthrow, that I do not desire the destruction of a throne ; but that if a throne crumbles of itself, I will not try to raise it ; and that I will only enter into a complete movement, that is to say, the republic !" There was a moment's silence. Astonishment, a sort of stupefaction mingled with doubt, was depicted on all counte- nances. Lamartine resumed : " I will tell you why. In great crises, society requires great strength. If the royal government crumbles to pieces to-day, we are entering on one of the greatest crises that a people ever had to pass through before finding another definite form of government. The reign of eighteen years by one man, in the name of a single class of citizens, has accumulated a flood of ideas, revolutionary impatience, rancors and resentments, in the nation, which will call for a new reign of impossible per- formance. The indefinite reform which now triumphs in the streets could not define and limit itself, without again throw- ing into aggression all those classes of the people who would be excluded from the sovereignty. Republicans, legitimists, socialists, communists, and terrorists, separated by their views, would unite in resentment to overthrow the feeble barrier which a government adopted as a truce would vainly attempt to oppose to them. The Chamber of Peers shares the hatred which the people nurse against the court. The Chamber of Deputies has lost all moral authority, through the twofold action of the corruption which disgraces it, and the press which has destroyed its popularity. The electors are but. an imper- ceptible oligarchy in the state. The army is disconcerted, and fears committing parricide by turning its arms against the citizens. The National Guard, an impartial body, has taken up the cause of the opposition. The old respect for the king has been outraged, in tiie hearts of men, through his obstmacy and defeat. By what force will you to-morrow encompass a throne raised to receive a child ? By reform ? That is a standard which only conceals the republic. Universal suffrage? It is a riddle, and contains a mystery. With a word and a motion, 't would engulf this relic of monarchy, this phantom of opposition, these shades of ministers who would think to control it. Its second word might be monarchy or empire ; its 90 HISTORY OF THE first v.ould be a republic. You will have only prepared for it a royj.l prey to devour. Who will sustain the regency ? Shall it be the great proprietors ? Their hearts belong to Henry V. The regency will be for them only a field of battle, where they may win legitimacy. Shall it be the small proprietors ? They are selfish and mercantile ; a reign with constant sedi- tion will ruin their interests, and induce them every moment to demand a definite establishment in a republic. Finally, shall it be the people ? But they are victorious, they are in arms, they are triumphant everywhere, they have been labor- ing fifteen years for doctrines which would seize the opportu- nity to carry the victory over royalty, to the extent of over- throwing society itself. " A regency will be the Fronde of the people — the Fronde with the addition of the popular communist and socialist ele- ment. Society, defended only by the government of a small number, under a form of royalty which will be neither mon- archy nor republic, will be assailed without defence at its very foundations. The people, calmed to-night by the proclamation of the regency, will return to-morrow to the assault, to extort another novelty. Each one of these irresistible manifestations will carry away, with a half concession, a remaining fragment of power ; the people will be driven to it by republicans more implacable than you. You will only have left the throne the means of exasperating liberty, without sufficient power to restrain it. This throne will be the standing butt of the oppo- sition, the seditions and the aggressions of the multitude. You will go from the 20th of June, to the 10th of August, as far as the sinister days of September. To-day they will demand of this feeble power the scaffold within ; to-morrow, they will exact war without. It cannot refuse anything, or it will be violated. You will allure the people to blood. Woe and shame to the revolution, if it taste it ! You will fall back into the year '93 of misery, fanaticism and socialism. Civil war, rendered ferocious by hunger and poverty, this night-mare of Utopians, will become the instant reality of the country. For having wished to stay a woman and a child on the brink of a peaceable dethronement, you will plunge France, property and family, into an abyss of anarchy and blood." Their co mtenances betrayed emotion. Lamartine con- tinued : REVOLUTION OF 1848. 91 " For my part, I see too clearly the series of consecutive catastrophes I should be preparing for my country, to attempt to arrest the avah.nche of such a revolution, on a descent where no dynastic force could retain it without increasing its mass, its weight, and the ruin of its fall. There is, I repeat to you, but a single power capable of preserving the people from the dangers with which a revolution, under such social conditions, menaces them, and this is the power of the people ; it is entire liberty. It is the suffrage, will, reason, interest, the hand and arm of all — the republic ! " Yes," continued he, in the tones of complete conviction, " it is the republic alone which can now save you from anarchy, civil and foreign war, spoliation, the scafibld, the decimation of property, the overthrow of society and foreign invasion. The remedy is heroic, I know, but, at crises of times and ideas like these in which we live, there is no effective policy but one as great and audacious as the crisis itself. By giving, to-morrow, the republic in its own name to the people, you will instantly disarm it of the watchword of agitation. What do I say ? You will instantly change its anger into joy, its fury into enthusiasm. All who have the republican sentiment at heart, all who have had a dream of the republic in their imaginations, all who regret, all who aspire, all who reason, all who dream, in France, — republicans of the secret societies, republicans militant, speculative republicans, the people, the tribunes, the youth, the schools, the journalists, men of hand and men of head, — will utter but one cry, will gather round their standard, will arm to defend it, but will rally, confusedly at first, but in order afterward, to protect the government and to preserve society itself behind this government of all ; — a supreme force which may have its agitations, never its de- thronements and its ruins ; for this government rests on the very foundations of the nation. It alone appeals to all. This government only can maintain itself; this alone can govern itself; this only can unite, in the voices and hands of all, the reason and will, the arms and suffrages, necessary to save not only the nation from servitude, but society, the family relation, property and morality, which are menaced by the cataclysm of ideas which are fermenting beneath the foundations of this half-crumbled throne. If s narchy can be subdued, mark it well, it is by the republic ! If communism can be conquered, it is by the republic ! If revolution can be moderated, it is by the republic ! If blood can be spared, it is by the republic ' 92 HISTORY OF THE If universal war, if the invasion it would perhaps bring on as the reaction of Europe upon us, can be avoided, understand it well once more, it is by the republic. This is why, in rea- son and in conscience, as a statesman, before God and before you, as free from illusion as from fanaticism, if the hour in which we deliberate is pregnant with a revolution, I will not conspire for a counter-revolution. I conspire for none — but if we must have one, I will accept it entire, and I will decide for the republic ! " But," added he, rising-, " I still hope that God will spare my country this crisis, for I acquiesce in revolutions, I do not make them. To assume the responsibility of a nation, requires a criminal, a madman, or a God." " Lamartine is right," cried one of the party. " More im- partial than we are, he has more faith in our ideas than we ourselves have." " We are convinced," they all cried. " Let us separate ; and," they added, addressing Lamartine, " do whatever circumstances shall lead you to think is best." • VI. While this was passing in one of the offices of the Chamber, a similar scene was being enacted in a neighboring apartment. A young man who, notwithstanding his years, was accredited by republicans of more advanced age, M. Emanuel Arago, a son of the illustrious citizen who had created this name, strove to engage M. Odilon Barrot with the party of the republic. M. Emanuel Arago, who had a few moments before left the office of the National, where he had addressed the people from a window, had drawn together, by his name and voice, groups of combatants in the place de la Concorde. Arrested at the outlet of the rue Royale, by the masses of troops stationed in this square, he had asked to speak with General Bedeau. The general had rode up at full speed, and given him permission to pass, as an envoy of the people, on his way to the Chamber, with advice and information touching a cessation of hostilities. M. Arago, in fact, was negotiating with deputies of different shades of opinion in this office, when M. Odilon Barrot came in at the instigation of his friends. M. Emanuel Aragfo and his friends, tho editors of La Reforme, could not succeed in winning M. Odilon Barrot. His opinions might be wavering ; his duty was decided. He was a minister. His concessions would have been treasons. He resisted with courage ; he had REVOLUTION OF 1843. 93 the eloquence of character. There are men who turn back and become greater on the brink of an abyss, M. Barrot was one of these men. He had an heroic despair, and an eloquence worthy of antiquity. Lamartine, after leaving the republicans who had just sur- rounded him, entered the Chamber. VII. The tribunes were full and mournful; the benches of the hall were scantly occupied by deputies. Their pale and hag- gard faces betrayed the sleeplessness of the preceding night, and the auguries of the day. The members, driven every moment from their seats by the internal agitation of their minds, conversed in low tones, bending upon those of opposite opinion scrutinizing glances. An efTort was made to read in the countenances of the opposition members the fate of the day. Some sought for information in the lobbies, others ascended the platfonn of the peristyle to watch from the highest point the intelligible movements of the troops and people on the place de la Concorde. Every minute, distant discharges and volleys of musketry shook the glasses of the dome, and blanched the cheeks of the women in the tribunes. Lamartine was seated alone on his solitary bench. He did not exchange a word with his colleagues during the two hours of this session. His fear was as silent as his hope, or rather he knew not whether he feared or hoped; he was sad. Revolutions are sphynxes. They have a meaning which is only solicited in terror. VIII. M. Thiers appeared for a moment in the ante-chamber, his head bare, his countenance distorted by the revulsion of the scene in which he had just been an actor, or the witness of the departure of the king. The monarchical deputies surrounded hin», and pressed him with questions. He bowed as if beneath the weight of destiny, and then rose and lifted his hat above his head, with the gesture of a pilot in time of shipwreck. " The flood is rising — rising," said he, and disappeared in the crowd. This expression filled those who heard it with conster- nation. It was the cry of distress, stifled by resignation. The president's chair was empty, as if the thoughts of the Chamber hail been visibly absent from this symbol of delib- 94 JIISTORY OF THE eration. M. Sauzet, the president, equally beloved by the Chamber and the king, at length took his seat. M. Sauzet's countenance exhibited the presentiment of the session, the sad- ness attending the funeral obsequies of the dynasty. Not a single minister was on the government benches. The inter- regnum was visible everywhere. The eyes of the Chamber look for a man to question, a sign of power to surround. Si- lence reigned. A young deputy, M. Laffitte, a name fatal to thrones, ascended the tribune. He addressed all parties, particularly the opposition, generous because triumphant,- and demanded that the Chamber, occupied with the public safety, should declare its sitting permanent. This was the signal for conclusive moments. The Chamber unanimously adopted the motion. But the monarchical deputies limited themselves to this measure. No initiative measure issued from their ranks. The hour was lost in a vain attempt. Meanwhile an officer in uniform hurriedly entered the hall. He ascended the steps of the tribune, and whispered in the ear of M. Sauzet. M. Sauzet rose, requested silence, and an- nounced, in a voice of firmness and emotion, that the Duchess of Orleans and her children wished to enter the hall. The announcement of the arrival of the princess excited agitation, but not astonishment. Abdication was predicted. A procla- mation of the regency was looked for. The flight of the king was unknown. It was thought natural that the princess, the mother of the young king, should come to present her son for the adoption of the country, through the Chamber of Deputies. The attendants placed two seats and an arm-chair at the foot of the tribune, fronting the assembly. The deputies came down from the upper part of the hall, to be nearer the scene. The spectators in the tribunes bent forward, with their faces turned towards the doors. The attitude of aU indicated respect for the place and anxiety for the spectacle. IX. The large door which is opposite the tribune, on a level with the highest seats in the hall, was thrown open. A lady ap- peared — it was the Duchess of Orleans. She was dressed in mourning. Her veil, half raised upon her bonnet, suffered the eye to rest upon a face impressed with an emotion and sadness which set off her youth and beauty. Her pale cheeks bore traces of a widow's tears, and the anxiety of a mother. It is REVOLUTION OF 1848. 95 impossible for a man to look upon such fer.tures without feeling. All resentment to the monarchy vanished from the heart. The blue eyes of the princess wandered over the space, which seemed for a moment to dazzle them, as if to ask shelter from all eyes. Her frail and slender figure bowed before the tumult of ap- plause which welcomed her. A slight blush, the light of hope in misfortune, and joy in mourning, tinged her cheeks. Her smile of gratitude shone through her tears. It was evident that she felt herself surrounded by friends. She held in her right hand the young king, who tottered on the steps, and in her left her other son, the young Duke of Chartres, children to whom their catastrophe was a show. They both wore short jackets of black cloth. White collars fell from their necks upon their dresses, living portraits of the children of Charles I., stepped from the canvass of Vandyke. The Duke of Nemours, faithful to his brother's memory in his nephews, walked beside the duchess, a protector who would soon need protection himself The countenance of this prince, ennobled by misfortune, expressed the brave but modest satis- faction of having accomplished a duty at the peril of his ambition and his life. A few generals in uniform, and officers of the Na- tional Guard, came down in the train of the princess. She saluted the motionless assembly with timid grace, and seated herself at the foot of the tribune, like an accused but innocent person before a tribunal from which there was no appeal, who hac' just listened to the trial of the cause of royalty. At this mo- ment this cause was gained in the hearts and eyes of all. Nature will always triumph over policy in an assembly of men moved by the three great powers of woman over the human heart — youth, maternity and pity. X. A word seemed to be expected. The orator's tribune was empty. Who would dare speak in the face of such a spectacle ? The scene itself was permitted to speak. Emotion produces reserve. Meanwhile time pressed. It was necessary to preface the revolution by a vote, or all speech would come too late. A deputy, well known for his independence and intrepidity, M. Lacrosse, geneious and frank like all the men of Brittany, with a needless distrust of his influence, arose. With the visible design of drawing out the eloquence of one of the masters of 96 HISTORY OF THE the tribune, he asked that the floor should be given to M. Dupin. The intention was good, but it wanted tact. A subdued agi- tation ran through the assembly, and raised a whispering which swelled almost to a murmur. M. Dupin was regarded as the personal confidant of the king. The leader of his private counsels, he was looked upon, in such a crisis, less as the orator of the nation than as the confidential interpreter of the wishes of the court. It was whispered that the king Avas going to speak. Distrust took arms in advance against cajolery. Men hardened themselves, through pride, to detect and avoid a snare. It was a drama planned at night in the Tuileries. The trap was seen through, the effect failed. A cry from the heart, a military gesture of M. Lacrosse would have carried away the assembly. A great orator froze it. Everything lies in the hour. It was not the hour for M. Dupin. It was that of an uncultivated but communicable feeling. Lacrosse had that feeling at heart, and would have found it in words. M. Dupin was sensible of this himself, and he had the instinct of silence. " I have not asked the floor," he said, with astonish- ment. But the impatient assembly pointed to the tribune — he ascended it. " Gentlemen," said he, in a tone which betrayed the tremor of the monarchy, " you know the situation of the capital and the scenes which have taken place. They have resulted in the abdication of his majesty, Louis Philippe, who has declared that he has relinquished his power, and bestowed it, in free trans- mission, on the head of the Count de Paris, with the regency of Madame la Duchesse d'Orleans." The friends of the dynasty hastened to applaud, as if to seize in the first moment of surprise on that regency which discus- sion might deprive them of. They pretended to receive as proofs of the inauguration of a new monarchy the shouts of respectful feeling which greeted a child and a woman with the names of regent and king. M. Dupin wished to register these shouts in the tribune itself, as if to render th 3m irrevocable. " Gentlemen," said he, " these cries, so precious to the new king and the regent, are not the first which have saluted her. She has traversed on foot the Tuileries and the place de la Concorde, escorted by the people and by the National Guard, expressing the same wish. As she has resolved, from the bottom of her heart, to administer the government only with a profound feeling for the public interest, REVOLUTION OF 1843. 9^1 the national will, and the glory and prosperity of France, I de- mand that your acclamations be recorded." Fewer shouts replied to these words. Enthusiasm, like thunder, has but one flash ; if one rises he has escaped. M. Sauzet attempted to fix it. " Gentlemen," said he, in his tuni, " it appears tome that the Chamber, by its unanimous acclamations " He was not permitted to finish. An unusual noise was heard at the door on the left, at the foot of the tribune. Unknown individuals. National Guards in arms, and men of the people in their working-clothes, forced the door, jostled the ushers at the foot of the tribune, invaded half the hemicycle, and assailed the Duke of Nemours with deep vociferations. Some of the deputies rushed before, to make a barrier for the princess with their bodies. M. Mauguin, cahn and erect, re- pelled them by his gestures and his breast. General Oudinot spoke to them in a tone of martial anger. He afterwards passed through this crowd to go to the court-yard and summon the aid of the National Guard. He reminded them of the inviolabil- ity of the assembly, and the respect due to a princess and a woman, from French bayonets. The National Guards listened to him, and pretended to share his indignation, but took up their arms leisurely, and ended by temporizing with the event. Oudinot reentered the hall indignantly. His uncertain opinions as a deputy with regard to the dynasty were only in his heart. As a man and a soldier he resented an insult to a woman. The sitting, interrupted by this partial invasion of the people, was resumed. The deputies revolted against the insinuations of the president, who would have recorded the acclamations of a few as the vote of all. They rushed forward to the foot of the two staircases of the tribune to utter their protest. M. Marie, a calm and impressive orator, of a strict but moderate opposi- tion, succeeded in ascending it. Others, by noise and gesture, contested his position. He crossed his arms upon his breast, and waited for his right. The esteem felt for his character redoubled the interest of his speech. His lo 'ty stature, his small but marked features, im- pressed his person with something tragic, which recalled the Roman bust. He looked down upon the storm without yield- ing to it, but without subduing it. Lamartine felt that deliberation would lose its liberty if the regency was discussed over the head of the regent and her sons. 9* il 98 HISTORY OF THr He wished to save both the spirit of the assembly from the oppression of a sentiment, and the duchess from the profana- tion of her woe. He arose from his seat, and addressing M. Sauzet, said : " I ask the president to suspend the session, for two reasons — the respect due to the national representation, and that due to the august princess who is here before us." XL The president obeyed this counsel, which at once rendered dignity to the vote, and decency to rank, sex, and misfortune. The Duchess of Orleans hesitated to retire ; she seemed to foresee that her presence was the only remaining guarantee for the establishment of royalty. General Oudinot sprang to the tribune, to delay the departure of the princess, or to honor her with a last salute. " An appeal has been made to all the feel- ings of generosity," said the gallant soldier ; " the princess, we have been told, has traversed the Tuileries and the place de la Concorde, alone and on foot, with her children, in the midst of public acclamations. If she wishes to retire, let the doors be opened to her, and our respects encircle her, as she was lately greeted by the salutations of the city of Paris." No remonstrances against the departure of the princess being heard, in spite of the skilful allusions of the orator to the love of the people, he added, " Let us accompany her wherever she wishes to go." The princess had but to say, " I would go to the Tuileries," and the Chamber, en masse, the people, touched by the spec- tacle, would have carried her back on the same wave which had just driven her forth. She dared not interpose a word. Oudinot seemed to wait for it. His sword, doubtless, would have covered the widow and her children. " If she ask to remain within these walls," he continued, "let her remain ; and she will be in the right," he added, with an emphasis which seemed to nail the princess to her seat, " for she will be protected here by our devotion." XII. But as the tumult increased at both doors, and at the foot of the tribune, the duchess, respectfully urged by the officers of her suite, by the Duke of Nemours and the deputies of the centre, left her place, mounted the steps she had so recently REVOLUTION OF 1843. 99 descended, and seated herself on one of the last benches in front of the tribune. A group of deputies stood up to protect her. Increasing rumors from without were swallowed up by the interior. M. Marie braved the prese^ice of the august client of the assembly. " Gentlemen," said he, " in the present situation of Paris, you have not an hour to lose in adopting measures which may have an authority over the populace. Since the morning the evil has made immense progress. What part is to be taken ? The regency of the Duchess of Orleans has just been pro- claimed ; but you have a law which appoints the Duke of Nemours regent. You must obey the law. Still, we must take counsel. In the first place, an imposing government is re- quisite at the head of the capital, as the head of the entire king- dom. I ask that a provisional government shall be established." Not a murmur rose at these decided words. Royalty, re- gency, had all vanished from the mind. The complaisant friends of the regency of the king's eldest son, now thrown into consternation, were sensible how great a fault they had committed in violating the law of nature which had nominated the Duchess of Orleans. There would not now be a gap to close by a new law, a constitution to violate, an interval of time necessary to abrogate and reenact this law, or a monarchy to cast into the gulf with the regent. " When this government shall be constituted," continued M. Marie, " it will advise in concurrence with the Chambers, and it will have authority over the country. This plan adopted, Paris must be instantly informed of it. It is the only means of reestablishing its tranquillity. At such a moment, we must not lose our time in vain discourse. I ask to have a provis- ional government organized." XIII. The tribune applauded. No opponent arose. The Duchess of Orleans grew paler. The Duke of Nemours took notes with a pencil, as if he were preparing for a magnanimous renunciation. A popular orator, M. Cremieux, who had just escorted the king to his carriage, touched with the grandeur of the situa- tion, and the pathos of the spectacle, slipped into the hands of tlie princess a few words calculated to flatter th t nation, and to procure the surrender of empire by the hands of the people 100 HISTORY OF THE themselves to the widow of the Duke of Orleans. Tf it was a crime, at least it was a crime of pity. Who would not have committed this crime, if he had found himself beside this poor woman ? Still, M. Cremieux ascended the tribune after M. Marie. "In 1830," said he, "we were too hasty — here we are, in 1848, obliged to begin again. We would not hurry ourselves in 1848. We would proceed regularly, legally, and forcibly. The provisional government which you will name will be not only intrusted with the maintenance of order, but with giving ns institutions which will protect all portions of the population, which was promised in 1830, but which has not been fulfilled. For my own part, I confess to you that I have the most pro- found respect for the Duchess of Orleans. I have just es- corted — it was a mournful honor — the royal family to the carriages which carry them away on their journey. I did not fail to perform this duty. But now the populace and the National Guard have manifested their opinions. Well, the proclamation of the regency, which has just been proposed to you, would violate a law already passed ; let us appoint a provisional government." {TJie applause increased, and became general.) " Let it be just, firm, vigorous, and friendly to the country to which it can address itself. We have now reached what the revolution of July should have given us. Let us profit by events. Let us not leave to our children the task of renewing this revolution. I ask for a provisional government, consisting of five members." While nearly the whole assembly adopted this motion by applause or resignation, the young king, at his mother's knee, cast a bewildered look on the tumultuous movement of the assembly, and applauded with his little hands the motion which dethroned him. The duchess crumpled in her hands the paper which contained the words noted down by M. Cremieux. She made M. Dupin read thf m, and he appeared to approve of them. XIV. M. Odilon Barrot came in, and with a slow and solemn step mounted the orator's staircase, which he had so often ascended and descended amidst the applause of the opposition. His face was pale, his brows contracted by anxiety, his eye darker aad fuller of doubt than ever. His forehead seemed shadowed REVOLUTION Oi 1848. 101 by the cloud of the future. He was looked upon with respect. His decision may be doubted, his conscience never. Disinter- ested patriotism is his religion. Popularity is his only weak- ness. He had fluctuated all his life lietween the republic and monarchy, tending always towards the popular state, and reserved towards the throne. He was forced to make an elec- tion — this hour summed up and interrogated his life. It pitilessly demanded of him the ultimatum which, in 1830, he asked of Lafayette at the Hotel de Ville. M. Barrot is the Lafayette of orators ; the republic or monarchy hung upon his lips. " Never," said he, " have we had more need of coolness and prudence. Would you were all united in one sentiment, that of saving the country from the most detestable of scourges, a civil war ! Nations do not die ! But they may become weak through internal dissensions, and never had France greater need of all her greatness and all her strength. Our duty is all marked out. Fortunately, it possesses that simplicity which impresses a whole nation. It addresses itself to its most generous and genial qualities, its courage and its honor. The crown of July rests on the heads of a child and a woman." The centre of the assembly, where the friends of the dj^- nasty were assembled, saluted anew these words with frenzied plaudits. They thought they saw destiny inclining in the direction to which the popularity of M. Barrot leaned. The duchess herself, with a happy instinct of gratitude, rose and saluted the assembl3\ All her gestures inspired a movement of curiosity and an expression of tender interest in attitudes and faces. She resumed her seat. The young king rose at a sign from the princess, and in his turn bowed to those who had applauded his mother. The Duke of Nemours whispered the duchess. She rose again, with more visible timidity. She held a paper in her hand. She shook it, as she showed it to the president. A voice, feminine, clear and vibrating, but choked by emotion, issued from the group that surrounded her, and with a slight trem- bling, sent a light murmur through the assembly. It wac: the duchess, who asked permission to speak to the representatives of the nation. Who would have resisted this voice ? Who would not have felt the tears, by which it was doubtless inter- rupted, fall ypon his heart ? It was a.'l over with the discussion. The president did not see this gesture, or hear this voice, oi 102 HISTORY CF THE affected not to see or hear them, to leave the minds of the assembly to M. Barret. The duchess, silenced and terrified at her own audacity, resumed her seat. Nature, vanquished, remained mute. What could eloquence achieve ? M. Barrot resumed. " It is in the name of political liberty in our country ; it is in the name of the exigences of order particularly ; in the name of our union, and our harmony in circumstances of such difficulty, that I ask my whole country to rally round its representatives, and the revolution of July. The more grandeur and generosity there is in thus sustaining and raising up innocence, the more courage my country will display in its devotion. As for me, I shall be happy in conse- crating my existence, and all the faculties I have in the world, to secure the triumph of this cause, which is that of true liberty in my country. " Can it possibly be, that what we decided by the revolution of July can be called in question ? Gentlemen, the crisis is difficult, I confess, but the country possesses such elements of grandeur, generosity, and good sense, that I am convinced it will be sufficient to appeal to them, to induce the population of Paris to rise around this standard. There are all the means to insure the liberty which this country has the right to claim, to reconcile it with all the necessities of order which are so necessary to it, to rally all the vital forces of this country, and to meet the great trials which are possibly reserved for it. This duty is simple, and traced out by honor, and the true interests of the country. If we do not know how to fulfil it with firmness, perseverance, and courage, I know not what may be the consequences. But be convinced, as I said in the commencement, that he who has the courage to take the responsibility of a civil war, in the heart of our noble France, is guilty in the highest degree, — a criminal to his country, to the liberty of France, and of the entire world. As for me, gentlemen, I cannot assume this responsibility. The regency of the Duchess of Orleans, a ministry taken from the most approved opinions, will give further pledges to liberty; and may an appeal to the country, to public opinion in all its lib- erty, be pronounced then, and pronounced without straying into the rival pretensions of civil war, in the name of the inter- ests of the country and of true liberty. I could not take the responsibility of any other position." REVOLUTION OF 1843. 103 XV. This address died away in silence, or in murmurs. Time had glided on vhile the orator -was speaking. M. Barrot was already in the past. The present was no longer his. The future had escaped him. M. de Larochejaquelein sprang to the tribune. The son of the hero of La Vendee, M. de Larochejaquelein had ac- cepted the responsibility of the cause and glory of his father. But though a Vendean at heart, he was liberal and almost repub- lican by intelligence. In default of a legitimate king, decap- itated or proscribed by the omnipotence of events, he acknowl- edged the people as king. He appealed to the insurrection of 1^0, to the liberty of all time. His skill was frankness ; his parliamentary strategy, honor ; his eloquence, the sudden and always generous cry of his conscience. In the midst of so many orators, he was the knightly orator, the gentleman of the tribune. His voice had the explosions of a cannon on the field of battle. His fine countenance, his hair, thick as a lion's mane, his lofty forehead, his advanced breast, his heroic gestures, made an impression on all eyes. A certain joyous- ness of tone rendered him pleasing to the people, who for- gave his royalist name in favor of his opposition to the new Toyalty. On seeing him spring to the tribune, it was thought he was about to claim the crown for Henry V. A murmur revealed this thought. M. de Larochejaquelein heard it, and refuted it by a gesture. " No one respects more than I do," said he, bowing slightly to the Duchess of Orleans, " no one respects more than I do, or feels more profoundly than I do, whatever interest there is in certain situations. I do not meet my first trial. I do not come here to raise mad pretensions in opposition to those alluded to by M. Barrot. No. But I think M. Barrot has not served as he wished the interests he would have saved. Perhaps it belongs to those who, in past times, have always served kings, to speak now of the country and the people." Then, drawing himself up to his full height, and addressing the deputies of the centre with a withering gesture of truth and defiance, " To-day," he exclaimed, in the punishments, the proscription, the confiscations, the forced leans, and the maximums of the first revolution, become familiar, by the report of history, to all classes of the nation, inspired no less horror among the poor than among the rich. Conscience is sometimes more just in the masses than in the more elevated classes of society, since conscience is almost the 188 HISTORY OF THE only moral organ that they exercise. Sophistry is only for the use of the learned ; nature does not recognize it. Between the people and the excesses to which they desired to lead them, stood their conscience and their memory. Half a century is the half of the life of man ; but it is so short an interval in the life of a nation, that 1848 appeared, in reality, but the morrow of 1793 ; and in regarding the pavement of their streets, the people trembled lest they should set their feet in the marks of Wood of their first republic. The terrorists of 1848, in order to obtain control of the second republic, could only appeal to the two elements which are always found in a city of five hundred thousand souls, in a state of sedition, crime and error. The party of freed convicts, abject in their manners, stagnat- ing in vice, allured by crime, constantly leaving and returning to the prisons, as in a fatal transition from crime to punishment ; men vomited from jails, and polluted by familiarity with dun- geons ; those who live in Paris by the chances of the day, by the snares which they lay, by the shameful traffic which they exercise in a corrupted capital ; those whose bad reputation obliges them to conceal their life among the crowd ; those who, having lost the regular means of livelihood, and not wishing to acquire them by labor, array themselves in hatred and war against all discipline and all society; those who, reversing in themselves all the principles of human morality, make of vice a profession, and of crime a glory ; those, in fine, who are themselves the personification of the constant whirl of dissipation, of the unceasing breath of agitation, of the luxury of chaos and the thirst of blood. All of these men, whom we should blush to call by the same name with the people, form a mass of about twenty thousand vagrants, ready for every work of destruction ; living unseen in tranquil times, coming from the shade, and covering the streets, in days of civil commotion. A signal of the chief, a nocturnal appeal from their accomplices, suffice to rally them in a moment. They were already rallied and on foot, at the sound of the firing of muskets and at the crumbling of government during the past three days. It was the bands of this army who were, at this time, the incendiaries at Puteaux and Neuilly, who laid waste and pj'laged the residence of the king, and the country- seat of the Rothschild family, at the very moment when that family sent an immense voluntary subsidy to the wounded and REVOLUTION OF 1848. 189 Starving Morkmen. It was they who sacked the Tuileries, preserved, with difficulty, by the true combatants. The people had, with energy, thrown them from their bosom, and many paid with their lives for their rapacity. Repulsed with indig- nation by the people of the revolution, they had plunged again into their filth ; one had only to stir it, to make them reappear. The other element which the terrorist party had equally at its disposal, and which it could conduct, by deceiving it, to the assault of a new power, was not, as we have seen, the misled workmen, enrolled and disciplined under the different chiefs of the socialist schools — these were honestly and heroically opposed to all violence and disorder ; but those who belonged to the brutal, ignorant, and perverse party of the communists, that is to say, the destroyers, the ravagers, and barbarians of society. All their theories were limited to feeling their suffer- ings, and to transforming them into enjoyments by making an invasion upon pronerty, industry, land, capital and commerce, and by distributing their spoils, as the lawful conquest of a starving republic over a dispossessed bourgeoisie, without troub- ling themselves as to the future legislation of such an organized havoc. These two elements, the one criminal, the other blind, natu- rally united and coalesced, without premeditation, under the hands of active leaders. The same thought rallied them to the same movement, though from different instincts, to overthrow, in the provisional government, the barrier which had just been erected against their excesses, or to force that government to serve as the docile instrument of their tyranny. They picked up a third element of number and violence in the indigent people of the precincts of Paris and the faubourgs, collected during: the eveninor at the sound of cannon, and assembled in countless masses, by torch-light, on the vast place de Bastille, that Mount Aventine of revolutions, the point of departure of the great streets which lead to all the thoroughfares of Paris. Upon this square, till midnight, armed groups were electrified by their own numbers, their oscillations, and by those munnurs which proceed from such great masses collected together, and which augment tenfold their strength, as the waves which rise from the sea increase the force of the winds. These groups had no malevolent intention against society; on the contrary, they had descended, ready armed, to defend the hearths of the citizens of Paris against the return of the troops, who, they were told, menaced the capital with the vengeance of the king. 17 190 HISTORY OF THE B :t the more formidable appeared to them this return of royalty and the army, the more dear to them was the accom- plished revolution ; the more, also, were they alarmed and indignant at the dangers of feebleness or treason, which this revolution appeared to them to risk. Distorted news from the Chamber of Deputies and the Hotel de Ville circulated among them. They interrogated one another respecting the worth of the names which composed the government. These names thus passed from mouth to mouth, and from orator to orator, through a stormy examination. Dupont de I'Eure was ap- proved for his constancy and virtue, but reproached for his old age. They refused to believe that, at the age of eighty-two, a man could have, upon the brink of his political life, the power of will and resistance sufficient to give to his country^ the weight and energy of which a revolutionary government has need. This old man, however, has wonderfully given the lie to time. The name of Arago was saluted with unanimous acclama- tions. He carried with him the twofold prestige which fasci- nates an intelligent people ; science, a kind of divine right, against which the masses do not contend in France ; and the reputation of an honorable man, which makes all foreheads bow. Ledru Rollin gave them brilliant pledges by his character of tribune of the militant democracy, which he had taken in par- liament, the banquets, and the radical journal La Reforme. His age, his revolutionary zeal, ruled by an eloquent intelli- gence, his figure, his attitude, his gesture, were the personifi- cation of a democracy after their own hearts ; all this gave to the name of Ledru Rollin a kind of inviolability. If they did not accept him as a statesman, they recognized him as their perse- vering accomplice in revolutionary conquests. They admired him as their tribune. The names of Marie and Cremieux only presented to them reminiscences of opposition, integrity, and talent, in the double arena of the bar and the parliament ; they hesitated to consider them sufficiently republican. The name of Lamartine inspired them, at once, with more favor and more dislike. They fluctuated, with regard to him, between attraction and repulsion. He was liberal, but he was blemished with the stain of aristocratic origin ; he was in the opposition since 1S30, but he had serv^ed the restoration in his youth, at d he had never insulted it since its fall. He had professed, in "les Girondhis" a theoretical admiration for the regular accession of the people to all their lawful rights ; but REVOLUTION OF 1848. 191 he hid repudiated, both at the tribune and in his books, the demagogue spirit and the organization of labor. He had been impartial and just towards the great thoughts of the first actors of the revolution, but he had pitilessly pointed out their slight- est excesses, and branded, without excuse, all their crimes. Such a name must have been violently discussed among the ultra and suspicious groups of the people. " Why does this man come among us ? " said some : " to deceive us ?" — " No," replied others ; "he has the conscience of honor. He will not devote a name, already celebrated, to the disdain of posterity." — " But he is of the blood of our enemies ; — but he will have lelations to keep with the classes of nobility, with the rich bourgeois proprietors, like himself; — but he has an inborn horror of what these aristocrats call anarchy ; — but he has de- fended the representative constitution and the peace, under the last reign. He has, without doubt, a feeling for the national dignity ; but he will make agreements with foreign cabinets, and compositions with thrones. These are not the kind of men we need. The people should have, in revolutions, accomplices, and not moderators ; men who partake all their passions, and not men who restrain them. To control a revolution is to betray it! Let us defy such masters. Let us not be deprived a second time of the blood of the revolution at the Hotel de Ville. Let us remember Lafayette ! Let us beware, lest Lamartine become a republican Lafayette. If he wishes to be with us, let him be our hostage. Let us force him to serve us as we wish, and not as he desires! Or let us replace these names by others taken from ourselves. Or let us join to them men who will represent us in their councils, and who will answer to us with their lives ! Let us stand ourselves behind them, with arms in our hands, and let us not permit them to deliberate but in the presence of the delegates of the people, in order that each of their decrees may be really a vote of the people, and that the axe of the people maybe constantly visible, suspended over the heads of those, who, in governing the revo- lution, may have the desire to moderate it, and the perfidy to betray it." XIL These propositions, actually presented in the groups of the Bastille, were applauded and voted with acclamation, by tu- multuous ballots. Men more animated, eloquent, and remark- 192 HISTORY OF THE able than the rest, were designated, to til e number of fourteen, to assist, in the name of the people, at tae deliberations of the provisional government. They came to the Hotel de Villa They were decorating themselves for some moments with the insignia of their mission. They wished to be recognized in their titles and attributes by the members of the government. Their voices were lost in the midst of the tumult of different motions, which incessantly resounded round the council-board. The government Avholly protested against this tyrannical pre- tension of taking away all liberty and dignity from its deliber- ations, by obliging it to deliberate under any other influence than that of its conscience and its patriotism. These dele- gates, at whose head was Drevet, a discreet and able man, were themselves overwhelmed by the murmurs of reprobation, which arose on every side against them, from the first groups, who had already, through sympathy, surrounded the govern- ment. Arago, Ledru Rollin, Cremieux, and Marie harangued them. Lamartine himself gained their confidence by his frankness. " Either do not take me, or take me free," said he, pressing their hands. "The people is the master of its own confidence, but I am the master of my conscience. Let them depose me, if they will ; but I will not lower myself by flattering or betraying them." These men, of whom the youngest was crushed during the night, when heroically opposing one of the invasions of the people in the Hotel de Ville, remained some time confounded among the crowd of assistants. Afterwards they received commissions from the government itself. They were among the number of its most devoted auxiliaries, and rendered useful services to order and the republic, XIII. In the mean time, the day had dawned. The confused army, composer", of the three elements we have just described, and which the .'hiefs of the terrorist and communist party had rallied during the night, began to descend by small bands, and agglomerate in compact masses upon the square and quays of the Hotel de Ville, as far as the Bastille. The different centres, around which these groups, at first scattered, collected, were formed of from fifteen to twenty men, young, but yet mature, and who appeared invested with a cer- REVOLUTION OF 1S43. 193 tain habitual or moral authority over them. Their costume was that intermediate between the hmirgeoisie and the people. Their countenance was grave, their complexion pale, their look concentrated, and their attitude martial. Resolute and dis- ciplined, they appeared like so many advanced posts, waiting before the action, until the army, to which they served a? guides, should surround them. One of the principal men of each of these rev^olutionary groups carried a red flag, fabricated in haste during the night, from all the pieces of cloth of that color which they had obtained from the shops in the neighbor- ing streets. The secondary chiefs had red bracelets and belts. All wore, at least, a red ribbon in the button-hole of their coats. As soon as the bands, armed with weapons of every kind, with muskets, pistols, swords, pikes, bayonets, and daggers, arrived upon the square, men, stationed for the purpose, un- rolled, tore in pieces, distributed and threw to these thousands of extended hands, strips of scarlet, which the rioters hastened to fasten to their vests, their blue linen shirts, and their hats. In a moment the red color, like so many sparks, darting from hand to hand, and from breast to breast, ran over the entire circuit of the quay, the streets and the place de Greve, and dazzled or terrified the spectators stationed at the windows of the Hotel de ViUe. Some groups of workmen, not initiated in the movement, and running from the distant quarters to offer their arms to the republic, debouched, from time to time, from the bridges and the quays, marching under the tri-colored banner, with cries of Vive le gouvernement protisoire ! Astonished at the change of standards, they sank slowly into the crowd, to ap- proach the steps of the palace. Hardly had they proceeded a few steps,-when they were surrounded, crowded, provoked, and sometimes insulted, by the groups of terrorists. They imputed shame to those colors which had borne the liberty, name and glory of France. They presented them with another standard. Some accepted it from astonishment, and the spirit of imita- tion. Others hesitated, and lowered it. Some groups defended it against the insults of the red bands. These flags were seen, in turn, beaten down or elevated, with gestures and cries of fury and reciprocal indignation, to float in rags, or gradually disappear over the heads of the multitude. They disappeared also from the windows and roofs of the houses in front. They were replaced by the sinister color of 17* 194 HISTORY OF THE the victorious factioi. Some armed bands, breaking through the gates, and climl ing to the summit of the portal, set up the red dag in the place of the tri-colored banner in the hands of the, statue of Henry IV. Two or three of these strips of scarlet were waved, by accomplices, or men who Avere intimidated, from the windows at the angle of the palace. They were saluted by discharges from muskets loaded with ball, which broke the glass, as they rebounded into the halls. The few members of the government who had passed the night at the Hotel de Ville had for their defence only a small number of brave citizens, united to them by the instinct of de- votion, and by the attraction which danger has for noble hearts. Some calm, active and intrepid pupils of the Polytechnic School, and the School of Saint Cyr, together with the confused and unknown mass of the combatants of the evening, were stretched, with arms at their sides, on the pavement of the courts, and on the steps of the staircases. But in spite of the efTorts of Colonels Key, Lagrange, and some other chiefs of the combatants, who had been appointed or had installed themselves in the difTerent commands of the palace of the people, these assailants of the evening, become the defenders of the morning, could resist, neither with hand nor heart, this ji second billow of the revolution, coming to crowd back and sub- f merge the first. There were on both sides the same men, the same costumes, the same language, the same cries; companions of the barricades of the night, meeting, not to fight, but to unite and mutuallj' congratulate each other upon the events of the morning. The feeble post of National Guards, drowned in this ocean of armed men, was now composed of only two or three courageous citizens, whose names deserve the mention of history. They came to offer their bayonets, and demand orders. Lamartine ordered them to withdraw into the interior, waiting until the mayors of Paris, notified by Marrast and Marie, should succeed in assembling- and directing- some de- tachments to the succor of thr assailed government. XIV. Hardly had these orders been given, when bands of men, meanly clothed, recruited from the indigent faubourgs and pre- cincts, the most remote at the east and west end of Paris, flowed in with such torrents, such currents, such songs, and such cries, upon the square, that thi= multitude, already crowded, REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 195 undulated under the eye of the spectator, like a sea. Soon, precipitatinor themselves with all their weight against the gates, they forced them, broke them open, and were engulfed, pell-mell, in the entrances of the edifice. They filled it, in an instant, with the crowd, with tumult and confusion. We can- not estimate at less than from thirty to forty thousand men the multitude who then covered the square, the quays, the entrances of the streets, the gardens, the courts, the staircases, the corridors, and the halls of the Hotel de Ville. The entrance of this mass of people, preceded by the prin- cipal chiefs, who had recruited them, and who had breathed into them their spirit, and given them their watchwords, was followed by the roaring and dashing of a tide that has broken its dike. The different trunks of this crowd spread themselves throughout all parts of the edifice, vociferating, gesticulating, and brandishing their arms. They fired, here and there, some shots, from no other impulse but excitement, without other motive than to prove their arms and their intoxication. The bullets struck the ceiling and tore down the entablatures of the windows and the doors. The more numerous mass, who had not been able to enter, sang in chorus the Marseillaise, without cessation. The entire square was a sea of faces, pale, or col- ored with emotion, all turned towards the facade of the palace, with hands raised, and red banners waving over their heads. They imposed, by this sign, upon the government, the symbol and signification of the convulsive republic which they wished to force upon it. A small number of the pupils of the schools, of devoted men, and of the combatants of the evening, already somewhat disciplined by the conflicts of the night, and by the confidence which the government had reposed in them, by rallying them round it, as the first pretorians of the republic, had withdrawn before this cro^vd, and had taken refuo^e on the landinfjs of the staircases, in the narrow corridors, and in the apartments, en- cumbered by the citizens, and the commotion that preceded the siege of the government. These invincible posts, from the very impossibility of recoiling, on account of the general crowd, and the resistance of the gates and the walls, were in vain crushed by the new armed columns who threw themselves for- ward to the assault of the government. They opposed a ram- part of living bodies to these invasions, incessantly recurring, and constantly repelled. 196 HISTORY 01 THE They heard from the small council-chamber the roaring' of the multitude, the clang of the combat, the chorus of the songs, the shouts and vociferations of the people, the crashing of the gates, the breaking of the glass, and the resound of musket- shots. Furious dialogues were commenced between the chiefs and orators of the assailants and the groups who defended the access of the reserved apartments. At each moment more ter- rible shocks, striking against the vanguard of citizens, who filled the ante-chambers or passages, communicated even to the doors of the council-room, shook them, and overthrew on the flag-stones of the corridors those who were trampled upon by such as preserved their footing. " Let us speak to this g-ov^mment of men, unknown to us, and suspected by the people," cried the leaders, and repeated the fanatical mob behind them. " Wlio are they ? What are they doing ? What kind of a republic do they weave for us ? Is it that kind of republic where the rich continue to enjoy and the poor to suffer ? where the manufacturer can put us to work by condemning us to wages or to famine ? where the capitalist is able to make conditions for the use of his capital, or bury it ? Is it that republic which, after having been conquered by our blood, will content itself with washing the pavements, to pennit the carriages of the wealthy to roll over them anew, splashing with mud the people's rags ? Is it that republic which will overlook the vices of society in the head, and which will punish them in the members ? which will have neither judges, nor veng-eance, nor scaffolds for traitors ? which will be humane at the expense of humanity ? which will have relations with tyrants, priests, nobles, bourgeois, and proprietor ? and which will bring back to us, under another name, all the abuses, the privileges, and the wickedness of royalty ? No, no, no ! " added those most exasperated ; " these are not men of our race ; we have no con- fidence in those who have not undergone the same privations as ourselves — who do not share the same resentments — who do not speak the same language — who do not dress in the same rags ! Let us destroy them, drive them away, and deprive them of their usurped authority, surprised and wrested from us in the night. We wish to make our republic for ourselves ; we wish that the government of the people should proceed from the people, — composed of men kno\vn to and beloved by them. Down with the flag of royalty, which r( minds us of our servi- tude and its crimes ! Hurra for the rec flag, the s)aubol of our freedom ! " _J REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 197 XV. Thus spoke, in the groups, these orators, who themselves, for the most part, iffected the miser)' and resentments of the people, whose labors andsulfering they did not in fact partake. In the same way as antiquity had hired mourners to feign grief and tears, the terrorist party had that day these men, furious from calculation, to feign the hunger, the misery, and resentments of the people. Yet, behind them, the people were recognized, — with their miseries but too real, and their confused aspirations for equality, well-being, and sometimes of envy, — responding to these orators with their looks, their gestures, and their hearts ; they applauded their words, brandished their arms, and broke out in suspicions and imprecations against the government. The calm and well-intentioned republicans endeavored to ap- pease these men : they represented to them, that if the mem- bers of the new government had wished to plot treason against the people, and a return to royaltj'-, they would not, during the evening, have proclaimed the republic ; that if their names were not, in the eyes of the multitude, sufficient guarantee of their political honesty, their lives were pledges of their fidelity to the revolution, into whose bosom they had freely and courageously thrown themselves. That for the government of a grave and intelligent nation like France, there was need of men skilled in affairs at home and abroad ; of men who knew how to speak, to write, to administer, and command, from edu- cation and habit ; that these had been chosen durinof the evening by public acclamation, to save the country and the people them- selves ; that they had set their feet, with intrepidity, in blood, in order to stop the bloodshed : that in a few hours they had done much ; that it was necessary to give them time to do yet more, and then to judge of their work. XVI. These words made an impression upon the most reasonable part of the crou d. " Ah ! weU," said these men, who came from the ranks to press the hands of the friends of order and of the government ; " you are right ; we cannot govern ourselves ; we have not the necessary education to understand men and affairs : let each one have his trade ; these men are honorable ; they have been in the opposition, and on the side of the people, under the last government. Let them govern us — we desire 198 HISTORY OF THE it ; but let them govern us as we wish, — in our interest, under our flag, in our presence. Let them tell us what they mean to do with us and for us ; let them set up our colors ; let them surround themselves with us alone ; let them deliberate in the full presence of the people ; let a certain number, chosen from ourselves, assist in all their decrees, and all their opinions, to answer for them to us, and to take from them, not only the temptation, but the possibility, of deceiving us," The most frantic applause broke forth at these last proposals. Not to violate the government, but to surround it, to rule it, to enslave it, to force from it the change of the revolutionary ban- ner, the measures of '93, proscriptions, confiscations, popular tribunals, the proclamation of the dangers of the country, dec- laration of war against all thrones ; that extreme rule, in fine, which, to rouse a nation and throw it wholly into the hands of faction, has need of war on the boundaries, and the scaffold in the centre. Add to this programme of the republic of '93, the open struggle of the destitute against the bourgeoisie, of wages against capital, of the workman against the manufacturer, and of the consumer against the trader. Such was the purport, violently discussed, of the resolutions, the speeches, and vocif- erations, which proceeded from the groups of the assailants. XVII. But this spirit was far from being unanimous and without opposers among the crowd of good citizens, which increased every hour at the Hotel de Ville. The terrorists and communists inspired horror and fear in the enlightened and courageous republicans, who pressed, since the evening, around a moderating centre of government. These, like the vast majority of the people of Paris, saw in the republic a humane and magnanimous emancipation of all the classes, without oppression for any. They saw in it a reform of justice, an equitable, rational, and progressive amelioration of political, civil, and possessive society. They were far from seeing in it a subversion of property, of family, and of fortunes ; a sacrifice of one or two generations, for the realization of im- practicable chimeras, or execrable passions. They endeavored to bring back to these opinions, to reason and to confidence in the government, the floating and unde- cided mass of these noor and ignorant men, collected from the faubourgs. These hud set up the red flag only because that REVOLUTION OF 1B48. 199 color excites men, as well as brutes. They followed the com- munists, without comprehending them. They vociferated with the terrorists, without having their thirst or impatience for blood. The good workmen, the republicans, the combatants, even the wounded, s-poke to these bands, more misled than guilty, with the authority of their opinion, which could not be suspected; and of their blood, which had been shed in the evening, for the same cause. They succeeded in sowing some doubt and inde- cision among them. Sometimes these men, melted by the reproaches, the suppli- cations, and the sight of the blood of their companions of the evening, threw themselves into the arms of those who addressed them. They burst into tears, and united with them to preach patience, concord, and moderation, A certain fluctuation was perceived in the masses, as in their minds. But all the means appeared to have been ably combined, either by chance or by the leaders of the day, to neutralize this power of good example ; to excite, even to madness, by all the senses, the irritation of the people, and to lead them on to the most desperate resolutions : the spectacle of their own misery, which, by inspiring them with compassion for themselves, must urge them to vengeance against the rich classes ; the intoxication, increased by the smell and reports of gunpowder, as well as by wine ; in fine, the sight of blood, which so easily excites the thirst for it. Nothing appeared, either naturally or from design, to have been omitted to produce this triple effect upon the senses of the multitude. A crowd in rags, without shoes, without hats, clothed in garments torn to shreds, which exposed the nakedness of their limbs, stood in the courts, and strowed, with livid faces, and arms attenuated by want, the steps between the entrance and the courts of the palace. Men intoxicated with brandy reeled here and there upon the staircases ; they stam- rnered inarticulate cries, threw themselves headlong upon the rioters, and brandished before them, with the blind and brutal awkwardness of drunkenness, stumps of swords, which were torn from their hands. In fine, from minute to minute, men half-naked, with shirts stained with blood, went through the multitude who opened respectfully before them bearing the bodies of the dead. The arches, the courts, the steps of the great staircase, the salle Saint-Jean, were strowed with dead bodies. All the zeal of the physicians, Thierry and Samson, aided by their officers of health, who signalized themselves by 200 HISTORY OF THE their intrepid humanity, could not succeed in removing and piling up these dead. It is not known whence they came, nor why they brought them thus to this only part of the city, from which they should have been removed from the sight of the people. There was one moment when the physician, Samson, approaching Lamartine, whispered in his ear : " The dead are sinking us. Their bodies at first terrify, but afterwards still more inflame the passione of the multitude. If they continue to bring them to us thus, from all the ambulances and hosp .tals of Paris, I know not what will become of us." XVIII. But while the men, bearing the dead bodies of their brethren slain in the three combats, carried them solemnly and like a holy burden, we know not by whose order, to the Hotel de Ville, bands of senseless men and ferocious boys sought here and there for the dead bodies of horses, drowned in the pools of blood. They passed cords around their breasts, and dragged them, with laughter and howling, over the place de Greve, and then threw them into the vault at the foot of the staircase of the palace. Hideous spectacle, which imbrued the thoughts, as well as the feet, of this multitude in blood. As soon as one dead body had been thus deposited, these bands went to seek another. The lower court-yard of the prefecture of Paris was obstructed by these carcasses, and watered with these pools of blood. Within, the tumult constantly increased. The violence of the factious encountered moral resistance and salutary counsels from the crowd of good citizens, and the magnanimity of the combatants, among whom they had thrown themselves. These simple men, led on by signals and watchwords, whose anarchi- cal and sanguinary meaning they only half comprehended, were astonished at the sight of those wounded in the evening ; men stained with powder and in rags, like themselves, who reproached them for their impatience and their fury, and cursed them in the name of the republic, attacked by them on the very morning of its birth. Some resisted these counsels ; others yielded, hesitated, or recoiled before the commission of an outrage. All floated, at random, from audacity to repent- ance, from crime to remorse. Their chiefs could only succeed, by force of declamation, intoxication, exposure of dead bodies, REVOLUTION OF 1843. 201 and musket- shots, in leading them on to successive assaults against the seat of government. Marie, al.vays impassible; Gamier Pages, always devoted; Cremieux, always attractive in his gestures and eloquence, had been alone there, since the evening, with Lamartine. Flocon struggled below in the square with another mob of many thou- sand men, who demanded the surrender of Vincennes, and the pillage of that arsenal. Flocon, at the risk of his life, calmed this mass, a long time deaf to his representations. He suc- ceeded in ruling them, being unable to disband them. He marched on Vincennes, distributed only some thousands of mus- kets, reclosed the gates, confirmed the commandants, reestab- lished the counter-signs, and saved its arsenal for the republic, by taking away from anarchy the powder, cannon and arms, which it would have turned against the people themselves. XIX. In the mean time, the chiefs and first ranks of the column of insurgents temporarily penetrated into the narrow and encum- bered corridors, where they were stifled by their own masses. They harassed the members of government. They constantly addressed them with the most imperious injunctions. " We wish an account of the hours that you have already lost, or too well employed, in quieting and putting off the revo- lution," said these orators, with arms in their hands, sweat upon their brows, foam upon their lips, and menace in their eyes. " We wish the red flag, that standard of victory for us, and of terror for our enemies. We wish that a decree should instantly declare it the only flag of the republic. We wish that the National Guard should be disarmed, and their muskets divided among the people. We wish to reign, in our turn, over that bourgeoisie^ the accomplice of all monarchies, that sell to it our sweat; over that bourgeoisie which makes the most ot royalties for its profit, but which does not know how either to inspire or defend them ! We wish the immediate declaration of war against all thrones and aristocracies. We wish the country to be declared in danger; the arrest of all the minis- ters, past and present, of the monarchy, who are now in flight ; the trial of the king ; the restitution of its property to the nation; terror for traitors; the axe of the people suspended over the head of its eternal enemies. What sort of a revolu- tion, with your fair words, do you wish to make for us ? We IS 202 HISTORY OF THE must have a revolution signalized with deeds and blood, a rev- olution which can neither stop in its progress nor retrace its steps. Are you the revolutionists of such a .evolution ? Are you the republicans of such a republic ? No ! you are like your accomplices in idle talk, Giro7idists at heart, aristocrats by birth, lawyers of the tribune, bourgeois by custom, perhaps traitors ! Make room for true revolutionists, or pledge yourselves to them by these measures ! Serve us as we wish to be served, or beware ! " Thus speaking, some threw their naked swords upon the table, in token that they would not sheathe them till they had been obeyed. While murmurs and applause replied from hall to hall to these speeches. Gamier Pages, Marie, Cremieux, and Lamar- tine, did not allow themselves to be insulted or intimidated by these orators. They looked them in the face, with their arms crossed upon their breasts, calming them by their gestures, fas- cinating them by the impassibility of their countenance and their attitude. Authority is so necessary to men that its dis- armed image alone impresses with involuntary respect even those who brave it. Hardly had these orators spoken, exciting themselves by the frenzy of their gestures and the harshness of their accent, when they seemed to be terrified at what they had said, and to feel horror at their own audacity. Some burst into tears, others fell fainting into the arms of their comrades. Blarie spoke to them with austerity, Cremieux with fervor, Gamier Pages with tenderness ; Louis Blanc, who came unex- pectedly, aided the government by his credit with the masses. Good citizens, the pupils of the military schools, the mayors of Paris, well known to the people, old republicans, like Marrast and Bastide, pressed their hands, admonished them, and inter- posed between them and the government. Interviews were established, at intervals, in different parts of the hall. The most violent, moved or melted, ended by allowing themselves to be induced to vacate the first floor. Thej'' went back to ren- der an account to the multitude of what they had seen, of what they had said, and of the answers they had received. They repressed, for a moment, the sedition. It was organized else- where by the voice of other chiefs, more implacable and more determined. They pushed forward to new assaults, which must end in carrying by storm, or imbruing with blood, the last and narrow asylum which remained to resistance. The government, thus besieged, would not have had too much, with all its moral forces, to overawe tne sedition. But REVOLUTION OF 1848. 203 the sedition itself separated the members present from a part of their colleagues. Dupont de I'Eure, whose old age would attract respect; Arago, whose manly form and celebrated name added strength to each other ; Ledru RoUin, whose name, countenance and eloquence, find sympathy wdth the destitute, were absent. The two first, overcome by weariness, after their magnanimous efforts of the evening. The third came in the morning, from the office of the interior, to rejoin the centre of government, but, plunged in this ocean of people, who were pressing and crush- ing at the entrances of the edifice, he found it impossible to reach the floor where the council sat. He had even been im- prisoned by the tumult in one of the lower halls, without com- munication with what was passing above him. He had, finally, withdrawn, to await a more free approach, and to organize without some of the elements of order. Louis Blanc did not yet form a part of the provisional government. They had only admitted him under the title of secretary, the same as Flocon, Albert, Marrast, Pagnerre, to fortify themselves with all the popularity of talent, eloquence, and reaction. Louis Blanc tried at this moment, for the first time, upon the masses, the power of his name and his eloquence. He ex- ercised it, we must acknowledge, with the design of procuring tranquillity and moderation, less impressed, however, than his colleagues with the danger of yielding the flag of the nation and the ensign of the republic to a party of the insurgents. Louis Blanc believed that this concession would be the signal of concord, and that this portion of the people, satisfied with their victor}"- on this point, would renounce the violent opinions and ill-boding measures which it did not cease to urge^upon the government. Favored by his small figure, he constantly de- scended and ascended from the government to the mob, gliding through the ranks of the terrorists, now haranguing the most excited groups, who were shaken by his voice ; now supplicate ing his colleagues to avoid the last excesses of the multitude, and accept the red flag, if it were only for the moment, and to disarm the people. Musket-shots resounded at intervals, and bullets had just struck against the windows, as the summons and ultimatum of the armed and impatient crowd ; these cries of fifty thousand voices, and these musket-shots upon the square, too often gave truth and force to the considerations pre- sented by the young tribune. Louis Blanc was not an accom- plice ; he wished to be a peace-maker ; but Ihe people would not 204 HISTORY OF THE retire, except upon conditions which the government persisted energetically in refusing. At this time a tumult, with more sinister noise, broke forth in the passages, which prevented, by their crowded state, any access to the seat of government. An assault of the people made the arches tremble, the walls groan, the gates yield, and caused the pupils of the school and the bold combatants to fall over one another, as they opposed the weight of their bodies, and the rampart of their levelled muskets, to this invasion. A mass of people forced by the sentinels, penetrated into the apartment, shouting, and brandishing all kinds of arms, sur- rounded and pressed upon the government. These men came, they said, to bring the last summons of the people, and to carry back to them the last word of the rev- olution. They had chosen for their orator a young workman, who was a mechanic, the Spartacus of this army of the intelli- gent destitute. He was a man of from twenty to twenty-five years of age, small, but straight in form ; he was strong, and had a firm and manly carriage of his limbs ; his face, blackened by the smoke of powder, was pale with emotion ; his lips trembled with rage ; his eyes, sunk under a prominent brow, flashed fire. The elec- tricity of the people was concentrated in his look. His coun- tenance had, at once, a reflective yet mazy expression ; strange contrast, which is found in certain faces, where a mistaken opinion has nevertheless become a sincere conviction, and an obstinate pursuit of the impossible ! He rolled in his left hand a strip of ribbon or red stuff. He held in his right hand the barrel of a carbine, the butt-end of which he struck with force upon the floor at every word. He appeared, at once, intimi- dated and resolute. One could see that he had strengthened himself against all weakness ahd accommodation, by a firm determination previously taken. He seemed to feel and to hear behind him the vast and furious people, whose organ he was, who listened to him, and who demanded of him an account of his words. He turned his looks in vacancy round the hall ; he did not rest them on any face, for fear of meeting another eye, and becoming involuntarily influenced. He swayed his head constantly from left to right, and from right to left, as if he was refuting within himself the objections they would oppose to him. It was the statue of obstinacy; — the last incarnate word of a multitude that felt its power, and that no longer desired to yield to reason. ' :rary - THE UNIVERSI. / OF ILLIf OIS 11 ♦>. LAMARTINE ADDRESSING THE PEOPLE. Vol.1, p. 206. REVOLUTION OF 1843. 205 He spoke wi'th that rude and brutal eloquence which admits of no reply ; which does not discuss, but which commands. His feverish tongue was glued to his parched lips. He had those terril)le hesitations which irritate and redouble, in the uncultivated man, the rage of his suppressed emotion, from his very want of power to articulate his fury. His gestures helped out the meaning of his words. Every one was standing, and in silence, to listen to him. XX. He spoke not as a man, but in the name of the people, who wished to be obeyed, and who did not mean to wait. He pre- scribed the hours and minutes for the submission of govern- ment. He commanded it to perfonn miracles. He repeated to it, with accents of greater energy, all the conditions of the programme of impossibilities which the tumultuous cries of the people had enjoined it to accept and to realize on the in- stant : — the overthrow of all known society ; the destruction of property and capitalists ; spoliation ; the immediate installation of the destitute into the community of goods ; the proscription of the bankers, the wealthy, the manufacturers, the bourgeois of every condition above the receivers of salaries ; a govern- ment, with an axe in its hand, to level all the superiorities of birth, competence, inheritance, and even of labor ; in fine, the acceptance, without reply, and without delay, of the red flag, to signify to society its defeat ; to the people, their victory ; to Paris, terror ; to all foreign governments, invasion : each of these injunctions was supported, by the orator, with a blow of the butt of his musket upon the floor, by frantic applause from those who were behind him, and a salute of shots, fired on the square. The members of the government, and the small number of ministers and friends who surrounded them, Buchez, Barthc- lemy St. Hilaire and Payer, listened to these injunctions to the end, without interruption, as one listens to delirium, from fear of aggravating by contradicting it. But this delirium was at this moment that of sixty thousand armed men, masters of everything. There were moments when the government, despairing of the public safety, under the pressure of such a tumult, lowered its head, collected itself, and resolved to die upon the breach, rather than to raise the standard of the dis- tress and terror of society, which it protected with its body. 18* 206 HISTORY OF THE Cremieux, Marie, Gamier Pages, Marrast, Buchez, Flottard, and Louis Blanc himself, replied to the injunctions of the ora- tor of the people, with the intrepidity, dignity, force and logic, which the reaction of such violence excites in men of feeling. Others tried to seduce and win, by all the blandishments of language and gesture, the stoical roughness of this man, and the partakers of his passion. All was useless ; they closed their ears to the words, and their eyes to the gestures. The instant proclamation of the revolutionary government, and the red flag raised without reflection, was the only answer of these men of iron. The less man is enlightened, the more is he obsti- nate. He calls in the aid of violence to obtain whatever he cannot acquire by reason. Tyranny is the reason of brutality. When a man can neither convince nor be convinced, he be- comes obstinate. Such was the people on that day ; such they have since tried to make it again. XXI. Lamartine, standing in the embrasure of a window, looked, in consternation, now on this scene, now upon the heads of the people, who swayed to and fro in the square, while the smoke of the firing, floating over these thousands of faces, formed the halo of glory round the red flag. He saw the efforts of his colleagues powerless against the obstinacy of these envoys of the people. He was irritated by this insolent defiance of an armed man, who constantly presented his carbine, as a powerful argument, to men who were disarmed, indeed, but who knew how to look death in the face. He broke through the groups which sepa- rated him from the orator. He approached this man, and took him by the arm. The man shuddered, and sought to disen- gage it, as if he feared the fascination of another being. He turned, with a disquietude at once savage and timid, towards his companions, as if to ask them what he should do. " It is Lamartine," said some of the members of his party. " Lamartine," cried the orator, with defiance, " what does he want with me ? I do not wish to hear him ; I wish the people to be obeyed upon the spot ; or if not," added he, en- deavoring to disengage his arm, " lullets, and no more words. Leave me, Lamartine ! " continued he, still moving his arm, to disengage it; "I am a simple man. I do not know how to defend myself by words. I do not know how to answer by REVOLUTION OF 1848. 207 ideas. But I know how to will. I will, what the peaple have charged me to say here. Do not speak to me ! Do not de- ceive me I Do not lull me to sleep by your eloquence of tongue ! Behold a tongue that cuts everything, a tongue of fire ! " said he, while striking on the barrel of his carbine. " There shall be no other interpreter between you and us." Lamartine smiled at this expression of the poor man, still retaining him by the arm. " You speak well," said he. " you speak better than I do ; the people has well chosen its interpreter. But it is not enough to speak well; we must listen to the language of reason, which God has bestowed on men of good faith and good will, that they might be able to explain themselves to one another, to aid, instead of destroying each other. A sincere speech is peace among men. Obstinate silence is war. Do you wish for war and blood ? We accept it ; our heads are devoted; but then, how the war and blood will fall back upon those who have not wished to listen to us ! " — " Yes ! yes ! Lamartine is right ! Listen to Lamartine ! " cried his comrades. XXIL Lamartine then spoke to this man with that accent of per- suasive sincerity which he felt in his heart, and which the se- riousness of the time rendered deeper and more religious. He represented to him that revolutions were great battles, where the conquerors had more need of chiefs after the victory than during the combat ; that the people, however sublime it was in action, and however respectable it was in the opinion of the statesman, had, in the tumult of the public square, neither the coolness, nor the moderation, nor the light, requisite to save itself, by its own unaided exertions, from the dangers of its own triumph ; that the action of government, at home and abroad, did not consist in shouting this or that unreflected revolution, with arms in hand, at the will of this or that popu- lar orator, nor in writing with the point of the bayonet arbi- trary, violent, and often unjust decrees upon a table of conspir- ators ; that it was necessary to think, to weigh, to appreciate, in liberty, in conscience, and with silence, the rights, the inter- ests, and the desires, of a nation of nearly forty millions of men, all having equal title to the justice and protection of a government ; that it was necessary, besides, to know that Paris was not all France, nor France all Europe ; that the safety of the people consisted in balancing these great interests, 208 HISTORY OF THE one against the other, and to do justice to the suffering portion of the people, without doing injustice and violence to other cit- izens and other nations ; that a people who had neither the patience nor the confidence in their chiefs to await prosperity would become a slaughtered people ; that it would be to plunge into disorder and anarchy the most fruitful revolutions ; that the chiefs who lowered themselves to be only the instruments of the changing will and tumultuous impulses of the multitude would be beneath the multitude itself, for, without being subject to its madness, they would execute its madness and its fury ; that such a government, at the nod and beck of the crowd, would be equally unworthy of the nation and the devoted men who had interposed between it and anarchy ; that if the people wished such servants, they had only to enter and strike them ; for these men had resolved to do everything for the people, except to ac- complish their ruin and dishonor. Lamartine, in fine, refused, in a few words spoken in the name of the government, to raise the red flag, and thus dishonor the past of the revolution and of France. XXIII. While Lamartine was speaking, there was seen struggling on the savage countenance of the orator of the destitute classes the intelligence with which it seemed to be enlightened in spite of itself, and the obstinacy of a brutal will, with which it ap- peared to be overcast. At last, intelligence and feeling prevailed. He let his carbine fall upon the ground, and burst into tears. They surrounded him, they felt compassion for him ; his com- rades, yet more moved than he, withdrew him in their arms out of the precincts. They caused the column, of which they were the head and the voice, to flow back into the court-yards, signify- ing to the people, by their cries and gestures, the good words of the government, and the good resolutions which they them- selves had formed. A sensation of hesitation and repentance was felt in the palace and at the gates — the government breathed. XXIV. But no sooner did the leaders of the people perceive the moral shock communicated to the masses by the return of this column upon the place de Greve, than they sowed anew among the crowd impatience and fury at their deceived designs. They REVOLUTION OF 1S48. 209 called those traitors and cowards who had descended without having obtained the red flag, and the government of the desti- tute classes, with the tool for a sceptre, and the sword in its hand. Uproar, heavier, more rumbling, and more sinister than before, rose from these waves of the people to the win- dows of the palace. Soon these compact masses, waving their flags, broke like crumbling walls, and new currents of armed men were seen forming and flowing slowly, as they plunged with loud cries through all the entrances, and under all the gates of the edifice. The crushing alone prevented them from throwing themselves upon the upper stories, with the force of the impulse which urged thern to the conquest of the govern- ment. However, the heads of these columns arrived at the great landing places of the courts, and as far as the middle of the staircases, becoming somewhat enlightened and softened by the influence of good citizens. Some irresistible groups penetrated even into the ante-chambers of the apartments. At each moment news of distress was brought by the pupils of the militar)' schools, who braved ever^'thing. They came to beseech the men who had the most influence over the people to allay the last extremities of violence by showing themselves. Marie and Cremieux went out in turn, A^nth intrepidity ; the ministers, such as Goudchaux, Bethmont, Camot, joined them, and devoted citizens surrounded them, to protect them with their persons and their popularity. They obtained some moments of respect, and returned worn out and vanquished by the tumult. Five times Lamartine went out, spoke, was heard with applause, and caused the multitude to flow back a little. He waved before him the tri-colored banner, sprung, said he, from the revolution, the contemporarj' of liberty, and consecrated by the blood of our triumphs. His garments were torn, his head uncovered, his forehead streaming with sweat. Enthusiasm and insult, in almost equal proportions, were excited at his approach. They refused for a long time to listen to him. Vehement apostrophes nailed his first words to his lips ; then, hardly had he pronounced a few sentences, inspired by the genius of the place, the hour, and the last extremity to which the country was reduced, when those nearest approached to him, passed over to his side, gave him their souls and their arms, and echoing his voice with their hearts and voices, drowned his speech with plaudits, which were prolonged by 210 HISTORY OF THE passing from hall to hall, and from distance to distance ; they ended by breaking into tears, and ""hrowing themselves into his arms. Never was better seen than during these hours how much intelligence, electricity, generosity, enthusiasm, and love, is contained in this people, who need only a kind word to pass wholly, even in sedition, to the most sublime sentiments of humanity. XXV. But these victories of sympathy and eloquence were short ; ihey were propagated slowly and imperfectly in this noisy crowd of from sixty to eighty thousand men ; they appeared to evapo- rate with the last echoes of the voice of the orator. Often he had hardly retired when he heard new murmurs sounding at the foot of the staircases, and shots fired in the courts, making whistle above his head the bullets, which broke ofl^ the stones from the arches of the staircases. Each hour of the day, as it advanced, brought new reinforce- ments from the precincts of the city, and the faubourgs, to the insurgents. Towards noon the place de Greve, the windows and roofs of the houses which surround it, were choked with the crowd, and appeared hung with red. A more decisive move- ment was made at the entrances and the lower parts of the building. They cried. To arms ! Some intrepid citizens wished to oppose the more desperate invasion of the people ; they were thrown down upon the staircases, and trampled under foot. The torrent mounted, and flowed under the gothic arches which stand before the immense hall of the republic, strowed with the bodies of the dying. " Lamartine ! Lamartine ! " cried the citizens from the end of the corridors, where they were crowded back by the people ; " he alone can attempt to stay the deluge, — the people will listen only to him ; — let him appear, or all is lost ! " Lamartine, overwhelmed by eighteen hours of physical efforts, and stretched on the floor, arose at these cries, and went out, accompanied by Payer, Jumelle, and Marechal, young and intrepid pupils of Saint Cyr, and by a group of generous youths of the Polytechnic School, and a few citizens, who protected him with their bodies. He passed through the corridors ; he advanced as far as the landing of the staircase ; he descended the steps, bristling on both sides with swords, lances, daggers, musket-barrels and pistols, brar dished over his head by excited REVOLUTION OP 1848. 211 and sometimes intoxicated hands ; borne, and, as it were, swimming over the very waves of sedition, he thus came upon the steps which open upon the square. He showed himself ; he spoke : his form, which the people beheld with curiosity, his gestures, his frank and open countenance, even more than his words, which were often drowTied in the tumult, roused prolonged acclamations from the multitude. Some red flags were low- ered — some tri-colored banners appeared at the windows. He remounted the staircase, followed by the echo of this applause from the square, which seemed to protect him, and, so to speak, consecrate him, against the bullets and daggers of the groups within. " Traitor ! " cried some men, with sinister looks and clothed in rags, upon the last step. Lamartine stopped, opened his dress, pointing in gesture to his breast, looked the insurgents in the face with a smile of compassion. " Are we traitors ? " said he ; " strike, if you believe it ! But you who say it do not believe it ; for before betraying you we must betray ourselves. Who is it that here risks the most, you or we ? We have pledged you our names, our memory, and our lives, and you only stake the mud upon your shoes ; for it is not your name that has countersigned the republic ; and if the republic falls, it is not upon you that the vengeance of its enemies will fall ! " These words, and this gesture, struck the feelings and the reason of thg people ; they opened for him to pass, and gave him applause. Reentering the hall of the wounded, Lamartine met a woman, still young, and all in tears, who came to him and called him the saviour of all. Her husband, stretched upon a mattress in a corner of the hall, appeared to be dying from weariness and disease. It was Flocon, brought back dying from Vincennes, some hours before, after having quieted the faubourg Saint Antoine, and saved our arsenals. Lamartine pressed his hand, and thanked him for his devotion and his courage. This friend- ship, between the republican of a whole life and the republican of a day, was formed, so to speak, upon the battle-field. XXVL But these triumphs of good citizens were only momentary truces. Despair at their weakness, the vain expectation of a result which always deceived them, the shame of retiring with- out having obtained anything — hunger, thirst, cold, the icy water and the mud in which they had been standing since the 212 HISTORY OF THE morning, raised, every quarter of an hour, new waves over these seas of men. The chiefs had seen the sun rise, and the day pass away ; they did not wish that it should go down upon their defeat. A furious horde of about four or five thousand men, appearing to have come from the most remote and indigent faubourgs of Paris, mingled with some groups better clothed and better armed, broke through, at about two o'clock, the balustrades of aU the courts of the hotel, inundated the halls, and rushed, with cries of death, clash of arms, and shots fired at random, as far as a kind of elevated portico, in the middle of a narrow staircase, upon which terminate the passages which protected on this side the asylum of the government. Lagrange, with dishevelled hair, and tAvo pistols at his girdle, with excited gestures, subduing the crowd by his lofty figure, and the tumult by his voice, that resembled the roaring of the masses, was striving in vain, in the midst of his friends of the evening and those who had gone beyond him in the morning, at once to satisfy and restrain the zeal of this crowd, intoxi- cated with enthusiasm, victory, impatience, suspicion, tumult, and wine. The almost inarticulate voice of Lagrange as much excited frenzy by its tone as it desired to appease it by its mean- ing. Tossed about, like the mast of a vessel, from group to group, he was borne from the staircase to the passage, from the door to the windows. With extended arms and salutations of the head, he cried from above to the multitude in the courts, with supplicating speeches, which were carried away by the winds, or drowned by the howling in tl^e lower stories, and the noise of the firing. A weak door, which could hardly allow two men to pass abreast, served as a dike against the crowd, arrested by their ovm weight. Lamartine, raised on the arms and shoulders of some good citizens, rushed to it. He broke it open, preceded only by his name, and found himself again alone, struggling with the most tumultuous and foaming waves of the sedition. In vain the men nearest to him cried out his name to the multitude — in vain they raised him at times upon their en- twined arms, to show his form to the people, and to obtain silence, if it were only from curiosity. The fluctuation of this crowd, the cries, the shocks, the resounding of the strokes of muskets against the walls, the voice of Lagrange, interrupting with hoarse sertences the brief silence of the multitude, ren- dered all attitude and speech impossible. Engulfed, stifled, and crowded back against the door, which was closed behind him, it only remained for Lamartine to allow the deaf and blind > H 2 M Q H a: O r > o H > H H H S O H M r o M ' RARY - THE UNIVERSL / OF IUI^OIS REVOLUTION OF 1848. 213 irruption to pass over his body, with the red flag, which the insurgents raised above their heads, as a standard, victorious over the vanquished government. At last some devoted men succeeded in bringing to him a broken straw-covered chair, upon which he mounted, as it were upon a tottering tribune, which was supported by the hands of his friends. From his appearance, from the cahnness of his figure, which he strove to render so much the more impass- ible as he had the more passions to restrain, from his patient gestures, from the cries of the good citizens imploring silence that he might be heard, the crowd, with whom a new spectacle always commands attention, began to group themselves into an audience, and to quiet by degrees their noise. Lamartine began many times to speak, but at each fortunate attempt to subdue this tumult by his look, his arm and his voice, the voice of Lagrange haranguing on his side another portion of the people from the windows, raised again in the hall the guttural cries, fragments of discourse, and roaring of the crowd, which drowned the words and action of Lamartine, and caused the sedition to triumph by confusion. They finally calmed Lagmnge, and drew him from his tribune. He went to carry persuasion to other parts of the edifice ; and Lamartine, whose resolution increased with the danger, could finally make himself heard by his friends and his enemies. XXVIL He first calmed this people by an eloquent hymn upon the victory so sudden, so complete, so unhoped for even by re- publicans the most desirous of liberty. He called God and men to witness the admirable moderation and religious humanity which the mass of this people had shown, even in combat and in triumph. He roused again that sublime instinct which had, during the evening, thrown this people, still armed, but already obedient and discipUned, into the arms of a few men devoted to calumny, to weariness and death, for the safety of all. At these pictures the crowd began to admire themselves, and to shed tears over the virtues of the people. Enthusiasm soon raised them above their suspicions, their vengeance, and their anarchy. " Citizens, see what the sun of yesterday beheld ! " con- tinued Lamartine. " And what will the sun of to-day witness ? It will see another people, so mu h the more furious as it 19 214 HISTORY OF THE has fewer enemies to combat, defying the very men whom yesterday they had raised above them ; constraining them in their liberty, humbling them in their dignity, despising them in their authority, which is only your own ; substituting a rev- olution of vengeance and punishment for one of unanimity and fraternity, and commanding their government to raise, in token of concord, the standard of deadly combat between citi- zens of a common country! — that red banner, which they have sometimes been able to raise when blood was flowing, as a terror to their enemies, but which they ought to lower immediately after the combat, in si^n of reconciliation and peace ! I should prefer the black flag, which some- times, in a besieged city, floats like a winding-sheet, to desig- nate to the bomb the neutral edifices consecrated to humanity, and which even the bullet and the shell of the enemy must spare. Do you wish, then, that the banner of your republic should be more menacing and sinister than that of a bombarded town ? " " No, no ! " cried some of the spectators ; " Lamartine is right ; let us not preserve this flag of terror for the citizens ! " — " Yes, yes ! " cried others ; "it is ours, it is that of the people. It is that with which we have conquered. Why, then, should we not preserve, after the victory, the standard which we have stained with our blood ? " " Citizens," resumed Lamartine, after having opposed the change of the banner by all the reasons most striking to the imagination of the people, and, as it were, withdrawing upon his personal conscience for his last argument, thus intimidating the people, who loved him, by the menace of his retreat : " Citizens, you can offer violence to the government ; you can command it to change the flag of the nation, and the name of France, if you are so badly counselled, and so obstinate in your error, as to force upon it the republic of a party, and the standard of terror. The government, I know, is as decided as myself, to die rather than to dishonor itself by obeying you. As for me, never shall my hand sign this decree ! I will re- fuse, even to the death, this flag of blood ; and you should repudiate it still more than I ! for the red flag which you offer us has only made the tour of the Champ de Mars, drawn through the blood of the people in '91 and in '93 ; while the tri- colored banner has made the circuit of the world, with the name, the glory, and the liberty of the country ! " At these last words, Lamartine, interrupted by almost unan REVOLUTION OF 1843. 215 imous cri^s of enthusiasm, fell from the chair which served him as a tribune into the arms stretched towards him from all sides ! Tlie cause of the new republic triumphed over the bloody reminiscences ■9'hich would have been substituted for it. A general impulse, seconded by the gestures of Lamartine and the influence of good citizens, caused the rioters, who filled the hall, to fall back as far as the landing-place of the great stair- case, with cries of "Fi«e Lamartine ! vive le drapeau tricolore ' " xxvm. But this crowd, carried away by the words it had just heard, there met the head of a new column, which had not been able to penetrate into the interior, noi' share in the feeling of the speeches. This band ascended, more animated and more implacable than any of the rioters hitherto restrained or dis- persed. A shock had taken place under the porch, and upon the last steps of the stairs, between these two crowds, each of whom wished to draw the other into its own movement, the one for the red flag, the other for the flag regained by the words of Lamartine. Menacing conversations, ardent vocifer- ations, cries of suffocation, two or three shots, fired from the foot of the staircase, shreds of the red flag, and naked weap- ons brandished over their heads, made this close conflict one of the most sinister scenes of the revolution. Lamartine threw himself between the parties ! " It is Lamartine ! room for Lamartine ! hear Lamartine ! " cried the citizens who had once heard him. " No, no, no ! down with Lamartine ! death to Lamartine ! No bargain- ing! no words ! the decree ! the decree ! or d la Ia)iter7ie with. the government of traitors ! " shrieked the crowd. These words did not make Lamartine hesitate, recoil, or grow pale.^ They succeeded in bringing to the landing behind him the broken chair upon which he had mounted just before. He ascended it, supported by the jamb of the great gothic gate, which had been pierced, during the evening and morning, with bullets. At his appearance, the fury of the assailants, instead of being calmed, broke forth in imprecations, clamors, and menacing: crestures. Musket-barrels, levelled from a dis- tance upon the steps furthest removed from him, seemed to * See the Hiiiory of these days, by a society ol combatants, Captain Du- noyer. 216 HISTORY OF THE aim al the gate. A nearer group of about twenty men, besotted by intoxication, brandished bayonets and drawn swords before them ; and, almost touching his feet, eight or ten furious men, sword in hand, threw themselves headlong, as if to force a passage by blows of a battering-ram through the feeble group that surrounded Lamartine. Among the first, two or three appeared out of their senses. Their hands, stained with wine, threw about blindly their naked weapons, which the courageous citizens embraced and took away in bundles, as the mowers raise the sheaves. The brandished points of the swords reached every moment to the height of the person of the orator, whose hand was slightly wounded. The moment was critical, — the triumph undecided. Chance decided it. Lamartine could not be heard, and was unwilling to descend. Hesitation would have lost all. The good citizens were in consternation. Lamartine expected to be overthrown and trampled under the feet of the multitude. XXIX. At this moment, a man stepped forth from a group upon the right. He entered the crowd. He climbed upon the foot of a pillar of the gate, nearly as high as Lamartine, and in sight of the people. It was a man of colossal form, and en- dowed with a voice strong as the roaring of a tumult. His costume alone would have attracted the regard of the multi- tude. He wore a surtout of unbleached linen, worn, soiled and torn, like the rags of a beggar's dress. Large trousers, floating to his knee, left his feet bare, without stockings. His long and large hands hung out, with half his meagre arms, from his two short sleeves. His open shirt allowed one to count his ribs and the muscles of his breast. His eyes were blue, luminous, and swimming in tenderness and goodness. His open countenance breathed enthusiasm, carried even to dehrium and tears ; but it was the enthusiasm of hope and love, — a true type of the people in their moments of grandeur, at once wretched, terrible, and good. One of the balis fired from below had just grazed the upper part of his nose, near his eyes. His blood, which he wiped away constantly, flowed in two streams over his cheeks and lips. He did not seem to think of his wound. He stretched his arms out to Lamartine, and invoked him, by look and ges- ture. He called him the counsellor, the light, the father, the EEVOLUTION OF 1843. 217 god of the people. "Let me see him — touch him! let me only kiss his hands!" cried he. "Listen to him," added he, turning to his comrades; "follow his counsels; fall into his arms. Strike me before you injure him. I will die a thousand times to preserv^e this good citizen to my country." At these words, rushing to Lamartine, the man embraced him convulsively, covered him with his blood, and held him a long time in his arms. Lamartine ofTered him his hand and cheek, and was melted by this magnanimous personification of the multitude. XXX. At this spectacle, the astonished and affected multitude were themselves melted. The love of a man of the people, a wounded man, a proletary bathed in blood, displaying, in his naked limbs, all the stains, rags, and \vretchedness of indi- gence, proved to Lamartine, and was in the eyes of the crowd, a visible and undeniable pledge of the confidence they might repose in the designs of this unknown moderator, of the faith they ought to have in the words of the organ of the govern- ment. Lamartine, perceiving this impression, and hesitation in the looks and movements of the multitude, took advantage of it to aim a final stroke at the fickle heart of this people. A prolonged tumult rolled at his feet among those who wished to hear him and those who were bent on hearing nothing, still in the presence of the mendicant, who with one hand stanched the blood of the wound in the face, and with the other made signs, to impose silence on the people. " What ! citizens," said he, " if you had been told that in three days you would have overthrown the throne, destroyed the oligarchy, obtained universal suffrage in the name of man, conquered all the rights of citizenship, and finally founded the republic, — that republic, the distant dream of those who felt its name hidden in the innermost recesses of their conscience, like a crime ! And what a republic ! Not a republic like that of Greece or Rome, embracing aristocrats and plebeians, mas- ters and slaves ! — not a republic like the aristocratic republics of modern da's, enc.osing citizens and proletaries, the great and small in the eyes of the law, a people and a patrician order, — but a republic of equality, in which there is neithei aristocracy nor oligarchy, neither great nor little, neither pa tricians nor plebeians, neither masters nor helots, before the 19=* 218 HISTORY OF THE law ; where there is but one single people, coroposed of the totality of the citizens, and the public right and power are only formed by the right and vote of each individual of whom the nation is formed, united in one collective power, called the government of the republic, and returning in laws, popular institutions and benefits, to the people from which it emanated. " If you had been told all of this three days ago, you would have refused it credence. Three days ! you would have said. It would require three centuries to accomplish such a work for the benefit of humanity." [Applause.) "Well! what you have declared impossible is accomplished. Behold our work, in the midst of these arms, these corpses of our martyrs ; — and you murmur against God and us ! " " No, no!" cried many voices. " Ah ! " resumed Lamartine, " you would be unworthy of these efforts, if you did not know how to contemplate and to acknowledge them. " What do we ask of you, to complete our work ? Years ? No. Months ? No, Weeks ? No : days, only. In two or three days more, your victory will be recorded, accepted, as- sured and organized, in such a manner that no tyranny, except the tyranny of your own impatience, can tear it from your grasp. And would you deny us these days, these hours, this calm, these minutes ? And would you strangle the republic, born of your blood, in its cradle ? " " No, no ! " cried a hundred voices, anew. " Confidence ! confidence ! Let us go and encourage and enlighten our brethren. Long live the provisional government. Vive la Republique ! Vive Lamartine! " " Citizens," he continued, " I have just spoken to you as a citizen ; now hear me as your minister of foreign affairs. If you take from me the tri-colored flag, mark it well, you take from me half the external strength of France ; for Europe knows only the standard of its defeats and our victories. It is the flag of the republic and the empire. On beholding the red flag, they will imagine they see only the banner of a party. It is the flag of France, the flag of our victorious armies, the flag of our triumphs, which we must hoist in the eyes of Europe. France and the tri-colored flag — it is the same idea, the same halo, the same terror, if need be, to our ene- mies. " Oh, peop! e, suffering and patient in misery ! " resumed he, "who have just shown, by the action of this brave and poor REVOLUTION OF 184S. 219 man, (embracing the mendicant with his right arm,) what dis- interestedness there is in your own wounds, and magnanimity and reason in your soul ! Yes, let us embrace and love each jther ; let us fraternize, rank with rank, class with class, opu- ence with indigence. Ungrateful would be the government /^ou establish if it forgot that it owes its first care to the most iinfortunate. As for me, I shall never forget it. I love order. [ devote my life, as you see, to it. I execrate anarchy, because it is the dismemberment of civilized society. I abhor dema- gogueism, because it is a disgrace to the people, and a scandal to liberty. But, although born in a more favored and happier sphere than you, my friends — what do I say ? — perhaps simply because I was born there, because I have worked less, suffered leis, than you ; because I have had more leisure and reflection to contemplate your distresses, and compassionate them from a distance, I have always desired a more fraternal government, with laws more deeply imbued with the charity which now binds us together in these interviews, these tears, these embraces of love, of which you have given me such examples, and with which I feel myself overwhelmed." XXXI. At the moment when Lamartine was about to continue, and unfolded his arms to appeal to the masses, he suddenly stopped, his words suspended on his lips, his action petrified, his look fixed, and as it were riveted on an object invisible to the rest of the multitude. In fact, he had for some moments noticed confusedly, through the kind of mist which improvisation throws over the eyes of the orator, a fantastic figure advancing towards him, which he could not explain, and which he took to be an optical delusion or a vestige of the imagination. It was the bust of a young man, clad in blue, a little elevated above the crowd, and approaching without walking, like those phantoms which glide over the ground without moving on their feet. The nearer the figure approached, the more astonish- ment did the looks of Lamartine express, and the more did his words seem to halt upon his lips. At last he recognized in this bust the countenance of Louis Blanc. The face had color, but the open eyes were motionless as in a transitory fainting-fit. It was, in fact, Louis Blanc, who had fainted from exhaustion and heat in the lower story and was carried by some of his 230 HISTORY OF THE friends silently and slowly through the mass of attentive people. At the same moment the wounded man who had embraced and saved Lamartine fell exhausted, and overturned the chair in his fall. Lamartine was sustained by the hands of some men of the people. Louis Blanc recovered in the air at the win- dows. This interrupted the discourse, but did not destroy its effect. XXXIL Notwithstanding this diversion, the people, feeling the re- proaches respecting their impatience, and elevated as if for the first time by the fanaticism of their own glory, repudiated by them in their flags, were particularly impressed by that species of confidence which a minister of foreign affairs, openly sustaining the interests of the country adored by the people, reposed in them. They turned back, as it were, against them- selves. They rushed forward, putting aside the guns and pressing down the sabres of those who were nearest, to embrace the knees and touch the hands of the orator. Tears glistened in all eyes. The mendicant himself shed them, and they mingled with his noble blood upon his cheek. This man had done more towards saving the tri-colored flag and the republic of '93 than the voice of Lamartine or the firmness of government. After his triumph he was lost in the. crowd who descended to the square for the last time. Lamar- tine did not even know his name, and never saw him afterwards. He owes him his life, and France her flag. xxxm. Meanwhile, many good citizens had learned from public re- port the tumults to which the government had been exposed for eighteen hours. It was rumored that the red flag had been planted ; that the government had been overthrown, and were prisoners in the hands of the terrorists ; that Lamartine had been wounded by a shot, and seen from a window with his face and hands bathed in blood ! They knew not that it was the blood of the generous mendicant. Consternation reigned in the distant quarters, and confusion in the nearest. But the most courageous came voluntarily, without any other summons than their own patriotism. They mingled with the masses who occupied the place de Greve. Here, by their posi- tion and v\ nds, they opposed the factions step by step. They REVOIUTION OF 1848. 221 addressed severe or fraternal reproaches to those most obstinate in preserving the flag of terror. It was at this moment that cries of ''Vive la Rtpubligue .' " bursting from the stairways, win- dows and courts, and the ebb of the last irruption, pouring forth from the great door with the tri-colored flag displayed, gave courage to the defenders of purity of the republic, and threw fluctuation and disorder into the disjointed ranks of sedition. The entire square gave way in a confused movement of re- treat, with cries of ''Vive la Republiqite ! " " Long live the Pro- visional Government ! " " Vive Lamartine ! " mingled with some stifled murmurs of anger and disappointment. Disordered bands were seen to retire, trailing the red flag through all tlie openings of the streets which terminate at the Bastille, or which lead by the quays to the faubourg Saint Marceau and to Bercy. A chant, by a hundred voices, rose like a hymn to the tri-colored flag from the bosom of the people who remained upon the square. It was the Marseillaise. The square itself was soon almost entirely empty. There remained near the gates only two or three hundred National Guards, and a few brave citi- zens hiding their arms under their coats, ready to devote them- selves to the cause of the government and the nation. XXXIV. Still all was not over. The red bands, on retiring, had uttered threats, and had made gestures with their weapons, which an- nounced a return of sedition in full force on the next day. While Lamartine was thus strucfg-linof face to face with the people on the outside, his colleagues, from whom he had been separated by the crowd, sustained, with equal resolution, the summons and assaults of the partisans of violent measures, and confounded them by the energy of their resistance, and their prompt reorganization of everything. Gamier Pages, the mayor of Paris, reestablished order and subordination in the Hotel de Ville, revoked, confirmed, nomi- nated, and recalled the mayors of the difl!erent quarters of Paris. Ledru RoUin reinstalled the vast ministry of the interior which had devolved upon him ; he came to an understanding with Caussidiere, for reestablishing a summary police, so necessary to a capital without government, and filled with the elements of disorder and crimes. Subervie resumed the vigor and fire of his republican youth, to prevent the disbanding of our brave army. It had left Paris for a moment, but its dislocation and 222 HISTORY OF THE want of disci| line would have disarmed the country while the revolution was in agitation. Up night and day, ir. uniform, on horseback, or at the council, this old man made the soldiers forget his years, as he did himself. Full of reminiscences of the former republic, which he had never lost sight of, Subervie found no impossibility in reviving the great days of our armed patriotism whose enthusiasm he had preserved. A pretext was made of his years to remove him, a few weeks later, from the ministry. It was a mistake. The date of his birth only was looked at. His ardor, his activity, and his old-fashioned firmness, were not regarded. Subervie was worthy of continuing Carnot. Arago concentrated his thoughts on the preservation of the learned arm which had been confided to him, — the navy. He struggled inflexibly against all disorganization of the mechan- ism of government. Goudchaux, summoned at the outset to t'ae department of finance, sacrificed to patriotism his repug- nance and his interest, and shielded credit by his probity and science. Cremieux, Marie, Carnot, Bethmont, like Lamartine, neglected for some days their less important ministries, to face the o-eneral exigences and the incessant seditions in the heart of the Hotel de Ville, the head-quarters of the revolution. Marrast, as indefatigable as he was firm, did not leave the council-table night or day. He prepared the preambles with rapid and luminous precision, while Cremieux and Marie drew up the decrees, and Lamartine the proclamations to the people, the army, and Europe. XXXV. On entering the interior, from that time evacuated by sedi- tion, Lamartine found his colleagues busy with these important details. They took breath, and cast a look of security and hope through the windows on the empty square before the Hotel de Ville. It was four hours after midnight. A ray of the sun, piercing the February clouds, was reflected on the moist pavements, and in the pools of water still mixed with blood that stood about the dead carcasses of horses the scavengers were clearing out of the streets. The tri -colored flag had resumed its place over the statue of Henry ^V., and was floating from all the windows of the houses. E^erythmg breathed the still doubtful serenity which succeed; popular tumults, and which can hardly be lii0^ilWStali*if\ ifi^rHmii^rwtmsaim.^ ru^tiMi