In the Rue Bellechasse 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 brandishing a sword.
The Tuileries are still guarded by troops. The Mayor shows his sash
and they let us pass. At the gate the concierge, to whom I make myself
known, apprises us that the Duchess d’Orleans, accompanied by the Duke
de Nemours, has just left the château 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 Institute and the Quai de la Monnaie. At the Pont Neuf
we pass a band of men armed with pikes, axes and rifles, headed by a
drummer, and led by a man brandishing 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 mass 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 They have been replaced by Marshal Gerard and M. Odilon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 Duchess d’Orleans is Regent.”
(A few isolated bravos, mingled with low murmurs.)