Another midnight conclave

Again it was midnight. Again the chiefs of the revolution of ’48 assembled in conclave. The second of the Three Days had passed, but the streets of Paris were all alive with excitement.

Every leader of the reform was there Ledru Rollin and Flocon excited and fiery, Louis Blanc exhausted and agitated, Albert stern and collected, Lamartine pale and troubled, Marrast sanguine and confident all of them more or less disturbed but M. Dantes. As for him, the same calm smile was on his lip, the same mild light in his eye and the same unchanging resolution upon his countenance.

“Who attended the Chamber of Deputies to-day?” asked Marrast. “Did you, Lamartine?”

“I did,” was the reply, “and witnessed a somewhat stormy sitting. At three o’clock, as usual, old Sauzet took the chair. Our friends were there in large numbers; the Ministerial benches were also filled. Immediately after, M. Guizot entered. He had been saluted with groans by the 10th Legion, stationed on guard without, and with cries of ’Down with Guizot!’ Calm, undisturbed, stony in aspect, though strangely pallid, he entered and took his seat. M. Vavin, Deputy for the Seine, instantly mounted the tribune. As Deputy of Paris he had, he said, a solemn duty to fulfill. For twenty-four hours Paris had been in insurrection. Why was this? He called on the Minister of the Interior to explain.”

“And what said Guizot?” asked Louis Blanc, eagerly.

“He said he thought the public interest did not demand, nor was it proper for the Chamber at that time, to enter into debate on the subject. The King had called M. lé Comte Mole to form a new cabinet.”

“And then the left cheered?” exclaimed Flocon.

“Most emphatically,” was the reply.

“And what said Guizot then?” asked Ledru Rollin.

“He calmly said that no such demonstrations could induce him to add to or withhold a single syllable of what he designed to say, or to pretermit a single act he had designed to do. As long as his Ministry remained in office he should cause public order to be respected, according to his best judgment, and as he had always done. He should consider himself answerable for all that might happen, and should in all things act as conscience might dictate for the best interests of the country.”

“A noble answer!” exclaimed M. Dantes, with enthusiasm.

Ledru Rollin and Louis Blanc assented.

“And what next?” pursued Flocon.

“After considerable confusion,” continued Lamartine, “M. Odillon Barrot rose and demanded, in consequence of the situation of the cabinet, a postponement of the proposition for its impeachment, fixed for to-morrow.”

“Ah! And what said the Chamber?” asked Flocon.

“The demand was so loudly reprobated that M. Barrot immediately said he made the proposal in entire submission to the majority.”

“And what said Dupin?” asked Ledru Rollin, eagerly.

“Dupin said the first thing necessary for the capital was order. Anarchy must cease. The Ministry could not at the same time occupy themselves in re-establishing order and in caring for their own safety. He demanded the adjournment of the impeachment and of all business.”

“And what did Barrot reply to that?” asked Louis Blanc.

“M. Barrot was silent; but the Minister of Foreign Affairs at once rose and said with much energy that as long as his cabinet remained entrusted with the public interest, which would probably be for some hours, it would cause the laws to be respected. The cabinet saw no reason for the suspension of the labors of the Chamber. The Crown was at that moment exercising its prerogative, and it must be respected. So long as his cabinet was on those benches, the Chamber need not suspend its labors.”

“What was the vote on the question to postpone consideration of the impeachment?” asked Flocon.

“Some of the opposition supported the motion, but the whole centre opposed it, and it was lost. The Chamber immediately rose in great agitation, and M. Guizot disappeared.”

“It seems to me that the position of M. Odillon Barrot is a somewhat peculiar one at this moment,” observed Louis Blanc. “He is neither with the Crown nor with the people, and yet both seem to confide in him.”

“As I passed his house this evening, at about eight o’clock,” said Flocon, “a large multitude were in his courtyard shouting, ’Long live Odillon Barrot!’ A deputation of the people penetrated, I understand, even to his private apartment, where he was in consultation with Thiers and Dupin. Barrot then urged them to be moderate in their triumph and to retire. M. Garnier Pages, who chanced to be there, urged them to do the same, and they went off shouting louder than ever.”

At that moment one of the reporters of “Le National” hastily entered and handed Marrast a note.

“Whence do you come, Monsieur?” asked the editor.

“From the Tuileries, Monsieur,” was the reply, and the reporter left.

The editor opened the note and read aloud:

“One o’clock Count Mole, unable to form a cabinet, has this moment
resigned, and the King has sent for M. Guizot, M. Thiers and
Marshal Bugeaud.

“Half-past one o’clock Marshal Bugeaud’s commission as Commander-in-chief of the National Guard and of the troops of the Line, in place of Generals Jaqueminot and Peyronett Tyburce Sebastiani, has just been signed by M. Guizot and his colleagues, the Ministers of War and the Interior, and will appear in the ‘Moniteur’ of this morning. Bugeaud’s plan is this: Instant attack with an overwhelming force of artillery, cavalry and infantry of the Line, (which, he asserts, he has now all ready in position in anticipation of this event, and well disposed to act,) on all the barricades. He promises to sweep away every obstruction from the streets before dawn, though at the cost of fifty thousand lives.”

“Ha!” exclaimed all the conspirators, instantly springing to their feet.

“This, indeed, is resistance!” said M. Dantes. “But Bugeaud can concentrate no more troops upon us. Every avenue to Paris will be effectually closed before morning and even the telegraph stopped!”

“If this be true, we have not an instant to lose!” said Louis Blanc.

“I had a hint of this,” began M. Dantes.

“Stay stay, Messieurs!” cried Marrast, as the whole company was rushing to the door. “Here is another and later dispatch.”

“Two o’clock Marshal Bugeaud has gone to complete his arrangements for instant attack. M. Thiers has arrived, and, with Odillon Barrot, Duvergier de Hauranne and de Remusat, has formed a cabinet. General Lamoriciere supersedes Marshal Bugeaud the latter is recalled and forbidden to fire on the people. He protests with violence, and sheathes his sword in despair.”

“To be sure he does, the old cut-throat!” cried Ledru Rollin. “The idea of being let loose with his mastiffs on the people of Paris, like sheep pent up in a fold, was to him a source of rapturous anticipation, and his rage at the disappointment is proportional!”

“Messieurs!” cried M. Dantes, “this last step of the Government was all that we required to insure our success. Thiers and Barrot mistake if they think there is sufficient magic in their names to quell a revolution. In fact, neither of them are trusted by the people. It is too late! Yesterday this might have been done; but now the demand is not reform, but a republic not ‘down with the Ministry,’ but ’down with the dynasty!’”

The conspirators looked at each other and then at M. Dantes in amazement and doubt. It was apparent they were as yet unprepared for language so plain.

“M. Dantes is right!” cried Flocon. “To-morrow night when we meet we shall all admit it!”

It was now nearly three o’clock, and the Republicans repaired to their homes for a few hours’ sleep before the exciting scenes anticipated for the morrow.

As Louis Blanc and M. Albert passed up the Rue Lepelletier, and came opposite the Hotel of the Minister of Foreign Affairs, which, but a few hours before, had been the scene of so much confusion and bloodshed, they paused and looked around. The pavement was still dark and wet with the gore of the slaughtered citizens, but the whole street was deserted and silent. Here and there a solitary light might be detected in the attic windows of the immense hotel; but no other sign of life or human occupation was to be perceived. True, there was an ominous sound of rising barricades in the Boulevard beyond the crash of trees, the click of steel on stone, the lumbering of wheels and, at intervals, a distant shout. But this excepted, all was as quiet in Paris as if the old city had never known of insurrection.

“This spot will be noted in the future history of France,” said Louis Blanc. “Do you know the exact facts of the case, M. Albert? There are so many rumors that we can with difficulty get near the truth.”

“I was not present when the 14th delivered their fire,” was the reply, “but I learned from M. de Courtais, who hastened to the spot, that the colonel of the regiment, now in prison, asserts that, at the moment of the arrival of the crowd, a ball from a musket which accidentally went off, broke the leg of his horse, and he, thinking this the signal for an attack, at once gave orders to fire. Another story is that one of our young blouses blew out an officer’s brains with a pistol.”

“Many of the troops must have fired in the air,” said Louis Blanc, looking around him, “for there were two hundred of them in line, I understand, and their discharge was delivered across the whole breadth of the Boulevard swarming with people.”

“It was unfortunate for M. Guizot,” rejoined M. Albert, with a sardonic smile, “that his hotel should have witnessed such a scene.”

“But fortunate for the cause, nevertheless,” replied Louis Blanc. “This last movement is called the movement of the journalists, I understand.”

“If suspicions are always as correct,” said M. Albert, “there will be fewer false ones, I fancy.”

Louis Blanc made no reply, and the friends walked on up the Boulevard, reconnoitering every spot.

At the Rue du Faubourg Montmartre they were stopped by a barricade, which was rapidly rising under the united and vigorous exertions of several hundred men. Steadily, sternly and silently, all that night they toiled, and when the barricade was completed the tri-color flag was planted on its summit, and a citizen-soldier stood beside its staff to defend it. On the other side of the Boulevard, in the Rue Montmartre, rose another barricade entirely finished.

“These men are resolved,” said Louis Blanc.

“Desperate, rather,” replied Albert. “They have counted the cost and prepared to go on with the attempt they have begun at all hazards. It is better to fight than starve, they think.”

“But do you observe how few of them are armed?” asked Louis Blanc.

“We have provided for that deficiency. You will see arms enough for all to-morrow,” replied Albert. “Barricades first, arms afterwards!”

And, indeed, while he was yet speaking, a tumbrel loaded with arms of every description drove silently up, and each man supplied himself with a weapon that suited his fancy. In some instances the taste exhibited was ludicrous in the extreme; there were swords without scabbards and bayonets without guns a towering helmet on the head of one man, and broad white leather cross-belts on the shoulders of another daggers and knives, sabres and pikes mingled in grotesque confusion. But each individual was armed with something, and, to crown all, a small piece of ordnance, borne on the shoulders of four stout men, who staggered beneath its weight, was now brought up and placed in battery.

“From such men what may we not hope!” exclaimed Louis Blanc. “But it is near morning; let us proceed.”

“I stop here,” quietly said Albert.

“What! Pass the night here?” exclaimed his companion.

“The night is nearly passed now,” replied Albert, with a smile. “I will sleep a few hours with my men of the barricades, and be ready to help them defend their work in the morning.”

“You are devoted to the cause, Albert,” said Louis Blanc, warmly grasping his hand.

“Oh! no more than yourself,” was the reply. “We are all devoted to it, but each in his own way. You are an author, I am a workman. It is a light thing for me to pass a night with only the sky for a canopy. It is a light thing for you to pass a night in your study. A change of positions would possibly kill us both!”

The friends grasped each other warmly by the hand and parted, the author going to his study and the workman to his barricade.