During the morning everything at and in the neighbourhood of the Mairie
of the Eighth Arrondissement was relatively calm, and the steps to
maintain order taken the previous day with the approval of M. Ernest
Moreau appeared to have assured the security of the quarter.* I thought
I might leave the Place Royale and repair towards the centre of the city
with my son Victor. The restlessness and agitation of a people (of the
people of Paris!) on the morrow of a revolution was a spectacle that had
an irresistible attraction for me.
* On the evening of the 24th, there had been reason to apprehend
disturbances in the Eighth Arrondissement, disturbances particularly
serious in that they would not have been of a political character. The
prowlers and evil-doers with hang-dog mien who seem to issue from the
earth in times of trouble were very much in evidence in the streets.
At the Prison of La Force, in the Rue Saint Antoine, the common law
criminals had begun a revolt by locking up their keepers. To what public
force could appeal be made? The Municipal Guard had been disbanded, the
army was confined to barracks; as to the police, no one would have
known where to find them. Victor Hugo, in a speech which this time was
cheered, confided life and property to the protection and devotedness
of the people. A civic guard in blouses was improvised. Empty shops that
were to let were transformed into guard houses, patrols were organized
and sentries posted. The rebellious prisoners at La Force, terrified by
the assertion that cannon (which did not exist) had been brought to
bear upon the prison and that unless they surrendered promptly and
unconditionally they would be blown sky-high, submitted quietly and
returned to work.
The weather was cloudy, but mild, and the rain held off. The streets
were thrilling with a noisy, joyous crowd. The people continued with
incredible ardour to fortify the barricades that had already been
constructed, and even to build new ones. Bands of them with flags flying
and drums beating marched about shouting “Long live the Republic!” and
singing the “Marseillaise and Die for the Fatherland!” The cafés
were crowded to overflowing, but many of the shops were closed, as on
holidays; and, indeed, the city did present a holiday appearance.
I made my way along the quays to the Pont Neuf. There, at the bottom of
a proclamation I read the name of Lamartine, and having seen the people,
I experienced the desire to see my great friend. I therefore turned back
with Victor towards the Hotel de Ville.
As on the previous day, the square in front of the building was filled
with a crowd, and the crowd was so compact that it immobilized itself.
It was impossible to approach the steps of the front entrance. After
several attempts to get somewhere near to them, I was about to force my
way back out of the crowd when I was perceived by M. Froment-Meurice,
the artist-goldsmith, brother of my young friend, Paul Meurice. He was a
major of the National Guard, and on duty with his battalion at the Hotel
de Ville. “Make way!” he shouted authoritatively. “Make way for
Victor Hugo!” And the human wall opened, how I do not know, before his
epaulettes.
The entrance once passed, M. Froment-Meurice guided us up all sorts of
stairways, and through corridors and rooms encumbered with people. As we
were passing a man came from a group, and planting himself in front of
me, said: “Citizen Victor Hugo, shout ‘Long live the Republic!’”
“I will shout nothing by order,” said I. “Do you understand what liberty
is? For my part, I practise it. I will shout to-day ‘Long live the
people!’ because it pleases me to do so. The day when I shout ‘Long live
the Republic!’ it will be because I want to.”
“Hear! hear! He is right,” murmured several voices.
And we passed on.
After many detours M. Froment-Meurice ushered us into a small room where
he left us while he went to inform Lamartine that I wished to see him.
The glass door of the room gave on to a gallery, passing along which
I saw my friend David d’Angers, the great statuary. I called to him.
David, who was an old-time Republican, was beaming. “Ah! my friend,
what a glorious day!” he exclaimed. He told me that the Provisional
Government had appointed him Mayor of the Eleventh Arrondissement. “They
have sent for you for something of the same kind, I suppose?” he said.
“No,” I answered, “I have not been sent for. I came of my own accord
just to shake Lamartine’s hand.”
M. Froment-Meurice returned and announced that Lamartine awaited me. I
left Victor in the room, telling him to wait there till I came back, and
once more followed my obliging guide through more corridors that led to
a vestibule that was crowded with people. “They are all office seekers!”
explained M. Froment-Meurice. The Provisional Government was holding
a session in the adjoining room. The door was guarded by two armed
grenadiers of the National Guard, who were impassible, and deaf alike to
entreaties and menaces. I had to force my way through this crowd. One of
the grenadiers, on the lookout for me, opened the door a little way to
let me in. The crowd immediately made a rush and tried to push past the
sentries, who, however, aided by M. Froment-Meurice, forced them back
and closed the door behind me.
I was in a spacious hall that formed the angle of one of the pavilions
of the Hotel de Ville, and was lighted on two sides by long windows. I
would have preferred to find Lamartine alone, but there were with him,
dispersed about the room and talking to friends or writing, three or
four of his colleagues in the Provisional Government, Arago, Marie, and
Armand Marrast. Lamartine rose as I entered. On his frock-coat, which
was buttoned up as usual, he wore an ample tri-colour sash, slung across
his shoulder. He advanced to meet me, and stretching out his hand,
exclaimed: “Ah! you have come over to us! Victor Hugo is a strong
recruit indeed for the Republic.”
“Not so fast, my friend,” said I with a laugh. “I have come simply to
see my friend Lamartine. Perhaps you are not aware of the fact that
yesterday while you were opposing the Regency in the Chamber, I was
defending it in the Place de la Bastille.”
“Yesterday, that was all right; but to-day? There is now neither
Regency nor Royalty. It is impossible that Victor Hugo is not at heart
Republican.”
“In principle, yes, I am. The Republic is, in my opinion, the only
rational form of government, the only one worthy of the nations. The
universal Republic is inevitable in the natural course of progress. But
has its hour struck in France? It is because I want the Republic that
I want it to be durable and definitive. You are going to consult the
nation, are you not?--the whole nation?”
“The whole nation, assuredly. We of the Provisional Government are all
for universal suffrage.”
At this moment Arago came up to us with M. Armand Marrast, who held a
folded paper in his hand.
“My dear friend,” said Lamartine, “know that this morning we selected
you for Mayor of your arrondissement.”
“And here is the patent signed by us all,” said Armand Marrast.
“I thank you,” said I, “but I cannot accept it.”
“Why?” continued Arago. “These are non-political and purely gratuitous
functions.”
“We were informed just now about the attempted revolt at La Force,”
added Lamartine. “You did better than suppress it, you forestalled it.
You are loved and respected in your arrondissement.”
“My authority is wholly moral,” I rejoined; “it could but lose weight in
becoming official. Besides, on no account would I dispossess M. Ernest
Moreau, who has borne himself loyally and valiantly throughout this
trouble.”
Lamartine and Arago insisted: “Do not refuse our brevet.”
“Very well,” said I, “I will take it--for the sake of the autographs;
but it is understood that I keep it in my pocket.”
“Yes, keep it,” said Armand Marrast laughingly, “so that you can say
that one day you were _pair_ and the next day _maire_.”
Lamartine took me aside into the recess of a window.
“It is not a mairie I would like you to have, but a ministry. Victor
Hugo, the Republic’s Minister of Instruction! Come now, since you say
that you are Republican!”
“Republican--in principle. But in fact, I was yesterday peer of France,
I was yesterday for the Regency, and, believing the Republic to be
premature, I should be also for the Regency to-day.”
“Nations are above dynasties,” went on Lamartine. “I, too, have been a
Royalist.”
“Yes, but you were a deputy, elected by the nation; I was a peer,
appointed by the King.”
“The King in choosing you, under the terms of the Constitution, in one
of the categories from which the Upper House was recruited, but honoured
the peerage and also honoured himself.”
“I thank you,” said I, “but you look at things from the outside; I
consider them in my conscience.”
We were interrupted by the noise of a prolonged fusillade which broke
out suddenly on the square. A bullet smashed a window-pane above our
heads.
“What is the matter now?” exclaimed Lamartine in sorrowful tones.