THE FINAL STRUGGLE.
1833-1848
Letter to Louis Napoleon.--Honors to the memory of Napoleon I.--The
Arc de l'Etoile.--The "Target King."--Death of the Duke of
Orleans.--The Count de Paris.--Testimony of Louis Blanc.--Opposition
of the king.--Liberals and Legitimists.--Letter from the Prince de
Joinville.--The banquets.--Agitation in Paris.--The procession
prohibited.--The procession abandoned.--Concentration of the royal
troops.--Defection of the National Guard.--Consternation at the
Tuileries.--A cabinet council summoned.--Resignation of the
ministry.--Organization of the revolutionists.--Collision with
the troops.--The conflict commenced.--Flight of the
insurgents.--Unpopularity of the king.--The Duchess of
Orleans.--Midnight tumult.--Consternation of the royal family.--Marshal
Bugeaud.
The Liberal party in France, despairing of any effectual reform under
the government of Louis Philippe, began to turn their thoughts to the
re-establishment of the Empire under Louis Napoleon, a young prince,
the nephew and heir of Napoleon I., then residing in studious
seclusion at Arnemberg, in Switzerland. The prince had already
obtained some celebrity by his writings in favor of popular rights.
One of the leading republicans wrote to him:
"The life of the king is daily threatened. If one of these
attempts should succeed, we should be exposed to the most
serious convulsions; for there is no longer in France any
party which can lead the others, nor any man who can inspire
general confidence. The great name which you bear, your
opinions, your character, every thing, induces us to see in
you a point of rallying for the popular cause. Hold yourself
ready for action. When the time shall come, your friends
will not fail you."[AO]
[Footnote AO: Vie de Louis Napoleon, t. i., p. 22.]
Every month there seemed to be rising enthusiasm in respect to the
Napoleonic name. Louis Philippe had but just taken his seat upon the
throne, when a petition was presented to the Chamber of Deputies
praying that the remains of the Emperor might be claimed of the
British Government, and transferred from St. Helena to Paris. In a
speech made by M. Mortigny, on the occasion, he said:
"Napoleon established order and tranquillity in our country: he led
our armies to victory: his sublime genius put an end to anarchy: his
military glory made the French name respected throughout the world,
and his name will ever be pronounced with emotion and veneration."
In the Place Vendome a column was reared in commemoration of the
deeds of the French army. It had been surmounted by the statue of
Napoleon. The Allies tore down the effigy. The people now demanded
that the statue should be restored. The Government could not refuse.
On the 28th of July, 1833, the statue of the emperor again rose to
that proud summit, in the midst of, apparently, the universal
acclaim of Paris and France.
On the 1st of August, 1834, a statue of the emperor was placed in the
court-yard of the Royal Hotel des Invalides, accompanied by as
imposing civil and religious ceremonies as France had ever witnessed.
In the year 1806, Napoleon I. had laid the foundations of the Arc de
l'Etoile, at the entrance of the most superb avenue in the world. The
people now demanded the completion of the monument. Preparations were
made for a magnificent fete on the 29th of July, 1836, when the
completed arc was to be unveiled. But Louis Philippe had become so
excessively unpopular, he was so incessantly pursued by assassins,
that it was not deemed safe for him to appear at the ceremony. The
magnificent monument was unveiled without any ceremony--the
_Moniteur_ proclaiming to Europe the humiliating declaration that the
king could no longer with safety appear in the streets of Paris. "The
soil," writes a French annalist, "was so sown with assassins that
there was no safety for the monarch but within the walls of his
palace."[AP]
[Footnote AP: Alison, vol. iii., p. 206.]
All over the kingdom insurrections were constantly bursting out, and
there were bloody conflicts in Lyons, Marseilles, and other places.
And now the demand became irresistible for the transfer of the
remains of Napoleon to Paris. Such a scene of national homage as this
great occasion manifested the world never witnessed before. In 1840,
the eyes of the world were fixed upon this grand funereal pageant.
The honored remains were transferred from the lonely grave at St.
Helena, placed beneath the dome of the Invalides, and over those
remains a nation's gratitude has reared a monument which attracts the
admiration of the world.
[Illustration: ST. HELENA.]
But these reluctant yieldings to popular sentiment did not add to the
popularity of Louis Philippe. He was shot at so frequently that he
received the sobriquet of the _Target King_! A volume might be filled
with the recital of the foul attempts to assassinate him. His days
must have passed in constant wretchedness. He was assailed in low
blackguardism in the journals: he was assailed with envenomed
eloquence, by such men as Lamartine, at the banquets; and his path
was dogged, with dagger and pistol, by such brutal wretches as
Fieschi, Boirier Meunier, Alibaud, and many others.
Louis Philippe, in the relations of private life, was one of the best
of men. His character had been formed in the school of misfortune. He
was not a man of generous affections; the fearful discipline through
which he had passed rendered this almost impossible. He was greedy of
money, and exceedingly desirous of aggrandizing his family by such
matrimonial alliances as would strengthen his dynasty.
On the 13th of July, 1842, the king experienced one of the heaviest
calamities of his life--a calamity quite irreparable. His eldest son,
who, upon the enthronement of his father, had taken the title of the
Duke of Orleans, was a very noble young man, quite popular with the
people and in the army. He was believed to be far more liberal in his
views than his father. He was driving in his carriage from Paris to
Neuilly; the horses took fright, and the driver lost his control over
them. The duke endeavored to leap from the carriage; his head struck
the ground, and his brain was so injured that he breathed but a few
hours, in insensibility, and died. Thus sadly the direct heir to the
throne was cut off. The succession reverted to his son, the Count of
Paris--an infant child, then in the arms of its nurse.
This young man--who subsequently married his cousin, a daughter of
the Duke of Montpensier, and who has been residing much of the time
at Twickenham, in England--is, at the present writing, the Orleans
candidate for the throne of France. He is deemed a worthy man--has
two children, but never has been placed in circumstances to develop
any marked traits of character. As the Count of Chambord has no
children, upon his death the Count of Paris becomes the _legitimate_
candidate for the throne.
The Count of Chambord had married the Archduchess Maria
Theresa-Beatrice, of Modena, eldest sister of the reigning duke of
that principality, and the only prince in Europe who had refused to
recognize Louis Philippe. "It was a singular proof of the mutations
of fortune that the direct descendant of Louis XIV. deemed himself
fortunate upon being admitted into the family of a third-rate Italian
potentate."[AQ]
[Footnote AQ: Alison, vol. viii., p. 193.]
Louis Philippe, during his reign of about eighteen years,
encountered nothing but trouble. The advocates of legitimacy--of the
divine right of kings--regarded him as an usurper. As the voice of
the nation was not consulted in placing him upon the throne, the
masses of the people deemed themselves defrauded of their rights, and
hated him, as the representative only of the moneyed aristocracy of
Paris. The bitterness with which he was assailed by the Liberal party
may be inferred from the following extract from the "Revolution of
1848," by Louis Blanc:
"Whatever may have been the baseness of Rome under the
Caesars, it was equalled by the corruption in France in the
reign of Louis Philippe. Nothing like it had ever been
witnessed in history. The thirst for gold having obtained
possession of minds agitated by impure desires, society
terminated by sinking into a brutal materialism. The formula
of selfishness, every one by himself and for himself, had
been adopted by the sovereign as the maxim of state; and that
maxim, alike hideous and fatal, had become the ruling
principle of government. It was the device of Louis
Philippe--a prince gifted with moderation, knowledge,
tolerance, humanity, but skeptical, destitute of either
nobility of heart or elevation of mind--the most experienced
corrupter of the human race that ever appeared on earth!"
There were thirty-four millions of people in France. Of these, but
one hundred and fifty thousand of the richest proprietors enjoyed the
right of suffrage. Consequently, the laws were framed to favor the
rich. All the efforts of the people to secure a reform of the
electoral law proved unavailing. The agitation of the subject
increased every year, and the cry for parliamentary reform was ever
growing louder and more menacing. Many of the illustrious men in
France joined this reform party. Among others, there were M. Lafitte,
the wealthy banker, M. Odillon Barrot, the renowned advocate, and M.
Arago, the distinguished philosopher.
We may search history in vain for the record of any monarch so
unrelentingly harassed as was Louis Philippe from the time he
ascended the throne until he was driven from it. He was
irreproachable in morals, a man who had seen much of the world in all
its phases, sagacious and well meaning. But he was placed in a
position in which no earthly wisdom could rescue him from the direst
trouble. There were two antagonistic and very powerful parties
watching him.
The one was the Liberal party in France, of varied shades of opinion,
demanding equal rights for all men, hating the old dynastic
despotisms of Europe, who had forced the Bourbons upon them, and
hating those treaties of Vienna, of 1815, which had shorn France of a
large portion of her territory, and had bound Europe hand and foot,
so as to prevent any future uprising of the friends of popular
liberty.
The other party consisted of the old aristocracy of France, the
Legitimists, supported by the sympathies of all the courts of Europe,
who were supposed to be not only willing but eager to unite their
armies to maintain the principles of the old _regime_ in France, and
thus to prevent the establishment there of those principles of
popular liberty which would endanger all their thrones.
The difference between these two parties was irreconcilable. As Louis
Philippe was situated, he was compelled to choose between the two. He
chose the latter. This involved him in unrelenting and unintermitted
war with the former. Alison says: "Concession to the Republican party
and a general change in external policy, so earnestly pressed upon
him by the Liberals, would lead at once to a general war;" that is,
the surrounding dynasties would not permit free institutions to be
established in France.
Louis Philippe was a man of great decision of character, as his
friends would say. His enemies called that trait stubbornness. In a
letter purporting to have been written on the 9th of November, 1847,
by his son, the Prince de Joinville, to the Duke de Nemours, the
writer says to his brother:
"I write one word to you, for I am disquieted at the events
which I see on all sides thickening around us. Indeed, I
begin to be seriously alarmed. The king is inflexible. He
will listen to no advice. His own will must prevail over
every thing. There are no longer any ministers. Their
responsibility is null. Every thing rests with the king. He
has arrived at an age when observations are no longer
listened to. He is accustomed to govern, and he loves to
show that he does so."
The king is reported to have said, at the close of a cabinet meeting,
in reply to some who urged concessions to the Liberal party, "Every
one appears to be for reform. Some demand it, others promise it. For
my part, I will never be a party to such weakness. Reform is another
word for war. When the opposition succeed to power, I shall take my
departure."
This was the declaration of the king that the surrounding dynasties
would not permit popular rights in France. An ancient law of the old
_regime_ did not allow the people to assemble to discuss affairs of
state. Louis Philippe revived the law, and enforced it vigorously. To
evade this prohibition, large dinner-parties, or banquets, as they
were called, were introduced, which afforded an opportunity of
offering toasts and making speeches, in which the measures of
Government were vehemently assailed. These banquets sprang up in all
parts of the kingdom, and were attended by thousands. Arrangements
were made for a mammoth banquet in the city of Paris on the 22d of
February, 1848. The place selected was a large open space near the
Champs Elysees. It would accommodate six thousand persons at the
tables, and was to be covered with a canvas awning.
The Government resolved to disperse the assembly by force. The
leaders of the Opposition, aware that they were not prepared for a
resort to arms, entered into a compromise with the Government. The
guests were to meet at the appointed time and place for the banquet.
The officers of the police were then to appear, order the assembly to
disperse, and arrest the leaders, who were to be indicted for a
breach of the law prohibiting political gatherings. Thus the question
of the right thus to assemble was to be referred to the legal
tribunals. This compromise was gladly acceded to by the Liberals, as
many of them desired a change of ministry only, being very reluctant
to run the hazard of a change of dynasty.
The Liberals accordingly announced to Paris, by a proclamation, that
the banquet was interdicted by the Government, but that there would
be a general demonstration by forming a procession on the largest
possible scale, to march to the appointed place of meeting, and there
peaceably to disperse at the orders of the police.
The Government was exceedingly alarmed when it learned that the
banquet was converted into a procession. This was magnifying the
danger. The excitement in Paris was intense. It soon became manifest
that not less than one hundred thousand men would join in the
procession. A decree was accordingly issued by the prefect of police,
stating that all who chose to go to the banquet individually could do
so, but that any attempt to form a procession would meet with
forcible resistance. This rendered it necessary for the Liberals
either to give up the plan of the procession, or to run the risk of a
collision with the royal troops, for which they were by no means
prepared.
The leaders of the Liberal party held a meeting, when the question
was anxiously discussed. Opinions on the subject were divided. One of
the most prominent men of the party, M. Lagrange, urged decided
measures. "Let the democracy," said he, "hoist its standard, and
descend boldly into the field of battle for progress. Humanity, in a
mass, has its eyes upon you. Our standard will rally around us the
whole warlike and fraternal cohorts. What more are we waiting for?"
On the other hand, Louis Blanc said, "Humanity restrains me. I ask if
you are entitled to dispose of the blood of a generous people,
without any prospect of advantage to the cause of democracy. If the
patriots commence the conflict to-morrow they will infallibly be
crushed, and the democracy will be drowned in blood. That will be the
result of to-morrow's struggle. Do not deceive yourselves. Determine
on insurrection, if you please; but for my part, if you adopt such a
decision, I will retire to my home, to cover myself with crape and
mourn over the ruin of democracy."
Ledru Rollin, following in the same strain, said, "Have we arms,
ammunition, combatants ready? The Government is thoroughly prepared.
The army only awaits the signal to crush us. My opinion is, that to
run into a conflict in such circumstances is an act of madness."
Under the influence of such views, it was decided to abandon the
procession. The regular troops in Paris at that time numbered
twenty-five thousand. There were as many more garrisoned in
neighboring towns, who could in a few hours be concentrated in the
city. Orders had been already issued for all the military posts of
the capital to be strongly occupied. In consequence of these various
measures, excitement pervaded the whole metropolis. Many of the
Liberal party were not satisfied with the decision of their leaders.
Many of the populace were also ignorant of the resolutions to which
the committees had come at a late hour of the evening of the day
before the procession was to have been formed.
At an early hour in the morning of the 22d, immense crowds had
assembled in the Place de la Madeleine, the Place de la Concorde, and
the Champs Elysees. Here they swayed to and fro, hour after hour,
motiveless, awaiting the progress of events. M. Guizot was then
Minister of Foreign Affairs, and M. Duchatel Minister of the
Interior. In the afternoon a large band of students swept through the
streets singing the Marseillaise, and shouting "Long live Reform!"
"Down with Guizot!" Agitation was rapidly on the increase. Quite a
large body of regular troops was stationed at the junction of the Rue
Rivoli and the Rue St. Honore. Towards evening the excited mob pelted
the troops with stones, and commenced erecting barricades in the
vicinity. There was, however, no other serious disturbance during the
day.
The Government, alarmed by these demonstrations, resolved to call out
all its military force the next morning, both the regular troops and
National Guard, to maintain order. Consequently, at an early hour in
the morning of the 23d, the _generale_ was beat in all the streets,
and the National Guard, more than forty thousand strong, hurried to
their appointed places of rendezvous. This crowding of the streets
with troops greatly increased the general excitement. All business
was suspended. Many of the shops were closed. The whole population of
Paris seemed to be upon the pavement.
The National Guard, composed of the middling class in the city of
Paris, were most of them in favor of reform. Many of their officers
belonged to the Liberal party. Their commander-in-chief, General
Jacquemont, was ready to sustain the Government. He was powerless
without the co-operation of his officers and men. In anticipation of
the conflict which now seemed so menacing, large numbers of the
officers held a secret meeting the night before, in which they
decided to stand between the regular troops and the irresponsible
populace. They would, on the one hand, assist the people in demanding
reform, and would protect them from the assaults of the regular
troops. On the other hand, they would defend the monarchy, and aid
the troops in repelling insurrection and revolution. As the National
Guard occupied every post conjointly with the regular troops, they
would not allow the troops to disperse the assemblages of the people.
It would have been destruction to the regular troops to engage in a
conflict with the National Guard, supported as it would have been by
the whole populace of Paris.
In this singular posture of affairs, the guard standing between the
regulars and the people, and not unfrequently joining with the people
in shouts of _Vive la Reforme_, the hours wore on. Many of the
Liberal leaders were so encouraged by this state of things that they
dispatched orders to the secret societies in the faubourgs
immediately to come forth in all their banded strength, hoping to
overawe the Government. These formidable bodies soon appeared,
traversing the thoroughfares in appalling numbers. The cavalry
received orders to clear the streets. The guard formed into line in
front of one of these bands, and with fixed bayonets held the cavalry
back. The populace, inspired with new zeal, seized arms wherever they
could be found and commenced throwing up barricades.
The king was struck with consternation as these tidings were brought
to him at the Tuileries. A cabinet council was hastily convened. In
view of the peril of the hour the king sent for the queen and his
son, the Duke de Montpensier, to be present at the meeting of the
ministers. Lamartine has given an account of the interview. The queen
and the Duke de Montpensier both urged the king to dismiss his
obnoxious ministers, and replace them by a Liberal ministry who
should introduce parliamentary reform. The king was in entire
sympathy with his ministers. They were carrying out his own policy.
With tears in his eyes he declared that he had rather abdicate the
throne than be separated from them.
"You can not do that, my dear," said the queen; "you belong to
France, and not to yourself. You can not abdicate."
"True," replied the king, mournfully, "I am more to be pitied than
they. I can not resign."
M. Guizot, who was absent at the commencement of the meeting, had
come in during the interview. The king turned to him and said, "My
dear M. Guizot, is it your opinion that the Cabinet is in a situation
to make head against the storm, and to triumph over it?"
The minister replied, "Sire, when the king proposes such a question
he himself answers it. The Cabinet may be in a condition to gain the
victory in the streets, but it can not conquer, at the same time, the
royal family and the crown. To throw a doubt upon its support in the
Tuileries is to destroy it in the exercise of power. The Cabinet has
no alternative but to resign."
The king was deeply moved as he felt thus compelled to accept their
resignation. Tears dimmed his eyes. Affectionately embracing them, he
bade them adieu, saying, "How happy you are! You depart with honor, I
remain with shame."
Guizot himself announced his resignation to the Chamber of Deputies,
then in session. The announcement was received with shouts of
applause from the Opposition benches. The tidings spread with
electric speed through the streets. Night came, and large portions of
the city blazed with illuminations, exultant bands surged through the
streets, songs resounded, and the city presented an aspect of
universal rejoicing. Still, with thinking men, there was great
anxiety. Where would all this lead to? Would the triumphant populace
be satisfied merely with a change of ministry? Might it not demand
the overthrow of a dynasty? If so, what government would succeed?
There were Legitimists, and Orleanists, and Imperialists, and
moderate Republicans, and Socialists of every grade of ultra
Democracy. Was France to be plunged into anarchy by the conflict of
these rival parties? While the unreflecting populace drank, and sang,
and danced, and hugged each other in exultant joy, thoughtful men
paused, pondered, and turned pale with apprehension.
The ardent revolutionists began now to organize in bands in different
parts of the city. Three large bodies were speedily gathered; one in
front of the office of the _Reform_, another before that of the
_Nationale_, and a third in the Place de la Bastile. These three
columns, led by such men, born to command, as ever emerge from the
populace in scenes of excitement, paraded the illuminated streets,
with songs and shouts and flaming torches, until they formed a
junction in the Boulevard des Italiens. It was manifest that some
secret but superior intelligence guided their movements. The Hotel of
Foreign Affairs, then the residence of M. Guizot, was in the Rue de
Choiseul. At the head of that street a well-armed detachment broke
off from one of the processions, and, bearing with them the blood-red
flag of insurrection, advanced to surround the hotel.
A royal guard had been stationed here, consisting of a battalion of
the line. The troops were drawn up across the street, presenting a
rampart of bayonets to prevent the farther advance of the column.
Here the insurgents halted, face to face with the troops, almost near
enough to cross bayonets. The leader of this column is thus
graphically pictured by Lamartine:
"A man about forty years of age, tall, thin, with hair curled
and falling on his shoulders, dressed in a white frock, well
worn and stained with dirt, marched, with a military step, at
their head. His arms were folded over his chest, his head
slightly bent forward with the air of one who was about to
face bullets deliberately, and to brave death with
exultation. In the eyes of this man, well known by the
multitude, was concentrated all the fire of the Revolution.
The physiognomy was the living expression of the defiance of
opposing force. His lips, incessantly agitated, as if by a
mental harangue, were pale and trembling. We are told that
his name was Lagrange."
The commander of the royal troops sat on horseback in front of his
line. The gleam of the torches and the waving of the insurgent banner
frightened his horse. The animal reared, and, recoiling upon his
haunches, broke through the line of troops, which in some confusion
opened to let him pass to the rear. At this moment, either by
accident or design, a musket-shot was discharged at the soldiers by
some one of the insurgents; Alison says by Lagrange himself. The
troops, in the gloom of the night, agitated by the terrible
excitements of the hour, and by the confusion into which their ranks
were thrown by the retreat of their commander through them, deeming
themselves attacked, returned the fire, point-blank, in full volley.
By that one discharge fifty of the insurgents were struck down upon
the pavements, killed or wounded.
The street thus swept by bullets was crowded with men, women, and
children. The discharge echoed far and wide through Paris, creating
terrible alarm. Most who were present had not the remotest idea of
danger, supposing that they had met only for a demonstration of joy.
Apprehensive of another discharge, there was an immediate and
tumultuous flight of the populace, the strong trampling the weak
beneath their feet. The insurgents took with them their dead and
wounded. This accidental slaughter roused Paris to frenzy. It was
regarded as the revenge which the ministers had taken for their
overthrow. Several large wagons were procured, and the dead,
artistically arranged so as to display to the most imposing effect
their blood and wounds, were placed in them. Torches were attached to
the wagons, so as to exhibit the bodies of the slain. A woman was
among the victims. Her lifeless body, half naked, occupied a very
conspicuous position. A man stood by her side occasionally raising
the corpse that it might be more distinctly seen.
Thus, in the gloom of a dark and clouded night, this ghastly
procession traversed all the leading streets of Paris, the whole
population, of a city of a million and a half of inhabitants, being
then in the streets. The rage excited, and the cries for vengeance,
were deep and almost universal. Louis Philippe had no personal
popularity to sustain him. Legitimists and Republicans alike ignored
his claims to the throne. He was regarded as intensely avaricious,
notwithstanding his immense wealth, and as ever ready to degrade
France in subserviency to the policy of foreign courts, that he might
gain the co-operation of these courts in the maintenance of his
crown, and secure exalted matrimonial alliances for his children.
There have probably been few, if any, kings upon the throne of
France, who have had fewer friends or more bitter enemies than Louis
Philippe. The following statement from the _North American Review_
correctly expresses the sentiment of most thoughtful men upon the
character of his administration:
"During a reign in which his real authority and influence
were immense, he did little for his country, little for the
moral and intellectual elevation of his people, and nothing
for the gradual improvement of the political institutions of
his kingdom; because his time and attention were absorbed in
seeking splendid foreign alliances for his children, and in
manoeuvring to maintain a supple majority in the Chambers,
and to keep those ministers at the head of affairs who would
second more heartily his private designs."
While these scenes were transpiring, the king, though greatly
chagrined at the compulsory dismissal of his ministers, yet supposed
that he had thus appeased the populace, and that there was no longer
danger of lawless violence. Helen, duchess of Orleans, widow of the
king's eldest son, a woman of much intelligence, had been greatly
alarmed in apprehension that the dynasty was about to be overthrown.
Her little son, the Count de Paris, was heir to the crown. Relieved
of her apprehensions by the dismissal of the obnoxious ministers, and
not aware of what was transpiring in the streets, she pressed her
child to her bosom, saying: "Poor child! your crown has been indeed
compromised, but now Heaven has restored it to you."
M. Guizot, at the time the untoward event occurred in front of his
hotel, chanced to be at the residence of M. Duchatel, the ex-Minister
of the Interior. As they were conversing, the brother of M. Duchatel
entered, breathless and in the highest state of agitation, to
communicate the tidings that the troops had fired upon the people,
that the whole populace of Paris was in a ferment of indignation, and
that there was imminent danger that the streets of the metropolis
were about to be the theatre of the most fearful carnage. Should
either of these ministers fall into the hands of the exasperated
populace, their instant death was certain. They both hastened to the
Tuileries. It was midnight. The terrible news had already reached the
ears of the king. They found him in his cabinet with his son, the
Duke de Montpensier, and other important personages. All were in a
state of great consternation. M. Thiers was immediately sent for. The
crisis demanded the most decisive measures, and yet the councils were
divided. There was a very energetic veteran general in Paris, Marshal
Bugeaud, who had acquired renown in the war in Algeria. He was
popular with the soldiers, but very unpopular with the people. Inured
to the horrors of the battle-field, he would, without the slightest
hesitation, mow down the people mercilessly with grape-shot.
The king was appalled, in view of his own peril and that of his
family. He well knew how numerous and bitter were his enemies. He had
not forgotten the doom of his predecessors in that palace, Louis XVI.
and Maria Antoinette. For years assassins had dogged his path. All
varieties of ingenious machines of destruction had been constructed
to secure his death. He was appropriately called the Target King, so
constantly were the bullets of his foes aimed at his life. Even a
brave man may be excused for being terrified when his wife and his
children are exposed to every conceivable indignity and to a bloody
death. Under these circumstances the king consented to place the
command of the army in the hands of the energetic Marshal Bugeaud. It
was now two o'clock in the morning. The veteran marshal, invested
with almost dictatorial powers, left the Tuileries in company with
one of the sons of the king, the Duke de Nemours, to take possession
of the troops, and to arrange them for the conflict which was
inevitable on the morrow.
The impulse of a master-mind was immediately felt. Aided by the
obscurity of the night, messengers were dispatched in every
direction, and by five o'clock in the morning four immense columns of
troops were advancing to occupy important strategic points, which
would command the city. These arrangements being completed, the Duke
de Nemours anxiously inquired of the marshal what he thought of the
morrow. M. Bugeaud replied:
"Monseigneur, it will be rough, but the victory will be ours. I have
never yet been beaten, and I am not going to commence to-morrow.
Certainly it would have been better not to have lost so much time;
but no matter, I will answer for the result if I am left alone. It
must not be imagined that I can manage without bloodshed. Perhaps
there will be much, for I begin with cannon. But do not be uneasy.
To-morrow evening the authority of the king and of the law shall be
re-established."