We quote a page or two from the second and concluding volume of _Paris and
its Historical Scenes_, in the _Library of Entertaining Knowledge_, which
gives the best account of _la Grande Semaine_ that has yet appeared. The
editor has taken Lord Bacon's advice--to read, not to take for
granted--but to weigh and consider; and amidst the discrepancies of
contemporary pamphleteers and journalists, his reader will not be
surprised at the difficulty of obtaining correct information of what
happens beneath our very window, as one of the great men of history
confessed upwards of two centuries since. In this respect, mankind has
scarcely progressed a jot, though men be more sceptical in not taking for
granted.
Our extract is, we hope, to the point:
"It is curious to what an extent opposite feelings and opinions will
colour even material scenes and objects to the eyes of different observers.
Count Tasistro was also present at the capture of the Tuileries; and gives
us in his narrative a description of what he witnessed of the conduct of
the people after they had established themselves within the palace. Before
presenting the reader, however, with what he says upon this subject, we
will transcribe part of his account of his adventures in the earlier part
of this day. 'The morning of the 29th,' he says, 'was ushered in by the
dismal ringing of bells, the groans of distant guns, and the savage shouts
of the populace; and I arose from a long train of dreams, which defied
recollection as well as interpretation. The rabble, headed by a few
beardless boys just let loose from the Polytechnic School and other
seminaries, had been pleased to fix their head-quarters in our street.
About half-past eleven, however, those of them who were collected here
having heard that the popular forces who were fighting before the Louvre
were nearly disabled by the cannon of the troops occupying that palace,
their Polytechnic chief called upon them to follow him to the assistance
of their brethren. Having entreated them to refrain from extravagant
excesses, he rushed forward, and soon arrived at the scene of action. Here
I saw him turn round and address his followers thus, 'Le cannon a déjà
exterminé plusieurs de vos comarades; dans un instant il est à vous;
suivez moi, et apprenez comme il faut mourir;' (_the cannon has already
destroyed numbers of your brethren; the next instant it will be directed
against you: follow me, and learn how to die_.) Having uttered these words,
he darted forward, just as the gun which was pointed at him was discharged,
and was blown into atoms. The people, however, following where he had led,
in the enthusiasm of the moment seized the gun, and turned it immediately
against the Swiss and the Guards that were stationed at the balconies of
the Louvre. Other guns were afterwards taken--and the consequence was that
the soldiers at last retreated with great precipitation, and concentrated
their strength on the Place du Carrousel. The tricolour was already waving
over the Louvre. I observed a little, insignificant urchin climb up the
walls, and plant it during the contest.
"The last struggle made by the Guards for their royal master was to save
the proud palace of his ancestors; but, alas, the attempt was vain. A
storm of balls was poured in upon them from so many sides, that the little
presence of mind they had preserved until now, deserted them at this
trying moment; and after a few ineffectual discharges, they retreated
toward the Champs Elysées; and the populace, unchecked by any power but
their own will, rushed _en masse_ into the regal mansion.
"During this attack, short as it was, I happened to be in a situation far
more critical than that of the generality of the combatants on either side.
On entering the Place du Carrousel by the archway leading from the Quays,
we found the confusion extreme--and, as the fire besides grew every moment
hotter and hotter, I felt the necessity of taking refuge somewhere, and in
my agitation ran forward and sheltered myself under the Triumphal Arch.
Here I passed the short interval during which the combat lasted in a
confusion of all the senses, which extended minutes to months, and gave to
something less than half a quarter of an hour the importance of a century;
for I was all the time between the two fires. Fortunately, as I have said,
the affair did not last very long; and when the victorious rabble at last
rushed into the Tuileries, I followed the general movement, and soon after
found myself in the throne hall, where I was joined by my two missing
friends."
The Count now proceeds to inveigh in general terms against what he
describes as the atrocious conduct of the unruly rabble--the devastation,
pillage, and other enormities of which they were guilty. Having concluded
this diatribe, he goes on with his narrative as follows: "Indeed the
passion of mischief had taken such strong possession of the minds of
all--the temptation was so widely thrown open wherever one went--that even
I felt a touch of the desire; and, as I passed along the library hall,
where a most splendid stock of books had been thrown on the floor, spying
among many precious treasures a beautifully ornamented little volume,
which, to say nothing of its gay appearance, promised to occupy no great
room in the pocket, with the conviction that I was doing a good action, I
picked it up. On opening it I found that it was neither a bible, nor a
poem, nor a _congurare_ (_?_), as I had anticipated, but simply a pocket
memorandum-book in which his Majesty had been accustomed to note his
_parties de chasse_, and the numbers of game he killed. I immediately
thrust it into my pocket, and have since preserved it as a keepsake--but
shall be most happy to restore it to the owner, should that august
personage at any time feel disposed to claim it. Would that all the rest
of the many articles that were this day pilfered were held as sacred, and
ready to be as punctually surrendered!
"Tolerably tired at last of looking on the grim faces that surrounded us,
we agreed to make our retreat; and descended into the garden, intending to
pass out by the gate leading to the Quays. Here, however, we were met by a
figure, at the sight of which we found it almost impossible to restrain
our risibility. It was a man keeping watch at the gate as a sentinel,
dressed for the most part as we commonly see the masters of chimney-sweeps,
without a vestige of either shoes or shirt, and what were intended for
coat and trousers having very doubtful pretensions to those
designations--but, to make amends for this condition of his general
habiliments, having a highly polished musket in his hand, a most splendid
sword dangling by his side, and on his head a superb Marshal's hat! 'Où
allez vous?' was the imperious demand of this extraordinary looking
personage. 'Où nous voulons' was the instant and haughty reply of my
friend M. The fellow, not being accustomed to such insubordination,
ordered us to take off our hats to show whether we carried anything away
with us. M. at this would have struck him down but for the sudden
appearance of six men, whose looks and dress were not much better than
those of the sentinel. These men, on being informed of our _hauteur_ (as
it was termed), insisted on our helping them, by way of penalty for our
offence, to carry off the dead. This was more than I, with all my
disposition to forbearance, could submit to; so, addressing myself to the
ugliest of them, who seemed to be the commanding officer of the party, I
told him scornfully and in good French, that we were foreign gentlemen,
who had nothing to do either with the dead or the living of their
country--and that it was a very _despotic_ act to stop peaceable
passengers in that manner. But this expostulation served only to irritate
the raggamuffins; and one of them taking hold of my arm tried to force me
into compliance with his orders. This was our trying moment; we all three
made one desperate effort 'for liberty;' and, each of us having dealt his
opponent a severe blow on the cheek, we broke from them, and ran off at
our best speed. Three shots were immediately fired, and still we galloped
on unhurt;--another went off, and I felt it--not that I was mortally
wounded; it was only a spent ball that lodged itself in the flesh of my
leg. The accident lamed me, however, for the time, and consequently put an
end to my adventures. I was carried to my hotel, and the ball was
extracted; but still the wound confined me to my room for two months."
The battle-pieces, and head and tail-cuts, well bespeak the ups and downs
and bursts of the Revolution. They are as plentiful in this volume, as the
balls were about Paris in _La Grande Semaine_.
* * * * *