Part 22 (1/2)
”France must be informed of events.”
”Yes, but meanwhile Paris is making events. Alas! has it finished making them? The Regency is all very well, but it has got to be sanctioned.”
”Yes, by the Chamber. The d.u.c.h.ess d'Orleans ought to take the Count de Paris to the Chamber.”
”No, since the Chamber has been dissolved. If the d.u.c.h.ess ought to go anywhere, it is to the Hotel de Ville.”
”How can you think of such a thing! What about the danger?”
”There is no danger. A mother, a child! I will answer for the people.
They will respect the woman in the princess.
”Well, then, go to the Tuileries, see the d.u.c.h.ess d'Orleans, advise her, enlighten her.”
”Why do you not go yourself?”
”I have just come from there. n.o.body knew where the d.u.c.h.ess was; I could not get near her. But if you see her tell her that I am at her disposal, that I await her orders. Ah! Monsieur Victor Hugo, I would give my life for that woman and for that child!”
Odilon Barrot is the most honest and the most devoted man in the world, but he is the opposite of a man of action; one feels trouble and indecision in his words, in his look, in his whole person.
”Listen,” he goes on, ”what must be done, what is urgent, is that the people should be made acquainted with these grave changes, the abdication and Regency. Promise me that you will proclaim them at your mairie, in the faubourg, and wherever you possibly can.”
”I promise.”
I go off, with M. Moreau, towards the Tuileries.
In the Rue Bellecha.s.se are galloping horses. A squadron of dragoons flashes by and seems to be fleeing from a man with bare arms who is running behind them and brandis.h.i.+ng a sword.
The Tuileries are still guarded by troops. The Mayor shows his sash and they let us pa.s.s. At the gate the concierge, to whom I make myself known, apprises us that the d.u.c.h.ess d'Orleans, accompanied by the Duke de Nemours, has just left the chateau with the Count de Paris, no doubt to go to the Chamber of Deputies. We have, therefore, no other course than to continue on our way.
At the entrance to the Carrousel Bridge bullets whistle by our ears.
Insurgents in the Place du Carrousel are firing upon the court carriages leaving the stables. One of the coachmen has been killed on his box.
”It would be too stupid of us to stay here looking on and get ourselves killed,” says M. Ernest Moreau. ”Let us cross the bridge.”
We skirt the Inst.i.tute and the Quai de la Monnaie. At the Pont Neuf we pa.s.s a band of men armed with pikes, axes and rifles, headed by a drummer, and led by a man brandis.h.i.+ng a sabre and wearing a long coat of the King's livery. It is the coat of the coachman who has just been killed in the Rue Saint Thomas du Louvre.
When we arrive, M. Moreau and I, at the Place Royale we find it filled with an anxious crowd. We are immediately surrounded and questioned, and it is not without some difficulty that we reach the Mairie. The ma.s.s of people is too compact to admit of our addressing them in the Place. I ascend, with the Mayor, a few officers of the National Guard and two students of the Ecole Polytechnique, to the balcony of the Mairie. I raise my hand, the crowd becomes silent as though by magic, and I say:
”My friends, you are waiting for news. This is what we know: M. Thiers is no longer Minister and Marshal Bugeaud is no longer in command (applause). They have been replaced by Marshal Gerard and M. Odilon Barrot (applause, but less general). The Chamber has been dissolved. The King has abdicated (general cheering). The d.u.c.h.ess d'Orleans is Regent.”
(A few isolated bravos, mingled with low murmurs.)
I continue:
”The name of Odilon Barrot is a guarantee that the widest and most open appeal will be made to the nation; and that you will have in all sincerity a representative government.”
My declaration is responded to with applause from several points, but it appears evident that the great bulk of the crowd is uncertain as to what view of the situation they ought to take, and are not satisfied.
We re-enter the hall of the Mairie.