1830-1833
[Illustration: Boy waving flag and shooting a gun.]
The Revolution of 1830 broke out during my schooldays. I was twelve
years old--too young therefore, by far, to estimate its character,
political or social, correctly. I only remember that it filled me with
the deepest astonishment. Never having witnessed any kind of
disturbance, I had not the faintest notion what a revolution might be
like. I had always seen the King and the Royal Family treated with a
respect which, indeed, they have never forfeited, and I was a hundred
miles from the thought that they could possibly be banished. It is a
fact, nevertheless, that the beginning of 1830 differed from other
years, and that something seemed to be brewing. Strange remarks were
made at school, over and over again, even among us little ones; our
tutors, all of them connected with the press, were what was called in
those days "dans le mouvement"--abreast of the times, and they never
stopped talking politics. Where were they not talked, indeed? It was a
downright disease. The speech of M. de Salvandy, on the occasion of the
fete given by my father at the Palais-Royal in May, that year, in
honour of the King of Naples, my uncle and godfather, may be called to
mind. "A real Neapolitan fete indeed, Sire!--for we are dancing on a
volcano."
And a truly Neapolitan fete it was, not only on account of the presence
of the sovereigns of the two Sicilies, and of the ideal beauty of the
night, but also by reason of the tarantella, a sort of ballet, which
was danced in the middle of the evening, by Madame la Duchesse de Berri
and thirty of the most beautiful young ladies of the Faubourg
Saint-Germain, in Neapolitan costume, among whom I think _I_ still see,
compact of grace and elegance, the lovely Denise du Roure, soon to
become Comtesse d'Hulst. The tarantella was followed by a polonaise,
led by Comte Rodolphe Appony and the Duchesse de Rauzan, resplendent in
blue and gold. A more sedate dance, this, performed by noble lords and
ladies, all in Hungarian costume, and escorted by pages, bearing their
respective banners. It would have been hard to say which of the ladies
taking part in these two dances bore off the palm for aristocratic
beauty. They were worthy representatives of their race.
The Royal Family, headed by Charles X., was present at this fete,
whereat pre-eminence of every kind was gathered together and every
class represented, and where cordiality seemed universal. After the
entrance of the two sets of dancers in costume, the King went out to
walk on the terrace which runs along the top of the Galerie d'Orleans.
The night was so warm and lovely that the ladies were walking about in
their low gowns, and the dazzling illuminations made it as bright as
day. The courtyard of the Palais-Royal was closed, but an immense crowd
filled the gardens, trying to see as much as possible of the gay
doings. I was running in front of Charles X. as he walked along, and I
saw his tall form advance to the parapet of the terrace on the garden
side, with that truly royal air he had about him. He waved his hand
several times in greeting to the crowd, which at that short distance,
and under that brilliant light, must have recognized him perfectly, not
by his features only, but by his full uniform of Colonel-General of the
Guard, and also by the retinue that followed him. But there was no
shout of "Vive le Roi!" nor any hostile one either. The surging crowd
only seemed to be rather more stirred, and the same uproar rose from it
as one may hear on a firework night, when some fine set-piece is set
alight. One last wave of the hand, with a "Bonjour, mon peuple!" which
the King spoke half in jest and half in earnest, and Charles X.
departed. I was never to see him again. Immediately afterwards, or
nearly so, the crowd laid hands on the chairs in the garden, piled them
up on the grass plots where the midday gun stood, and set them on fire.
The troops had to be called out to clear the garden, and that first
scene of public not, so new to me, filled me with astonishment and rage
as well.
Shortly after this fete came the taking of Algiers--a Proof of the
national strength, of political courage and foresight--a brilliant
military exploit, performed under the "drapeau blanc," which might well
have roused the enthusiasm of the nation, tightened the bond between
France and her king, and reconciled the people to their ancient flag.
It did nothing of the kind. The taking of Algiers was received like an
ordinary piece of news, and the tricolour flag was regretted as deeply
as ever. For the platform and the press--but especially the press, the
mightiest instrument of destruction of modern times--had done their
work. The days of the Government of the Restoration were numbered. Not
that it had been blameworthy. Both at home and abroad it had certainly
been the best of all the administrations that had succeeded each other
since 1789. But it had endeavoured to govern like a patriarch, for the
present good and the future greatness of France, and to withstand the
assaults of those unprincipled individuals who looked on their country
simply as a farm to make money out of. So bit by bit it had been
demolished, just as everything has been demolished these past hundred
years, in the name of laws and principles which dissolve every kind of
government, and which will soon make it absolutely impossible for
society to exist. The hour when the words, "Get out of that, and let me
take your place," the real and only object of our successive
revolutions, should resound, was on the very stroke.
On the 25th of July we had all been dining at Saint-Leu with M. le Duc
de Bourbon, an old cousin of ours, who never meddled with politics, and
led a leisured and delightful life between Chantilly and Saint-Leu,
never coming to Paris except to pass through it, although the beautiful
palace there which bears his name, the Palais Bourbon, belonged to him.
His great passion was for sport, in which he excelled; and my father
had made a friend of him by giving him the hunting in all his forests.
There was another reason too, and perhaps after all it was the chief
one, for this cordiality, that my parents had consented to receive the
Baronne de Feucheres, who held great sway over the Duke, but who had
never been admitted to Court. I can see the handsome old man yet,
laconic in speech, his profile of the most strongly marked Bourbon
type, his hair and pigtail white, with his tightly buttoned blue coat,
from which a lace frill escaped, and his trousers, which were always
much too short, showing his white stockings underneath. On the evening
I speak of there had been a great gathering at Saint-Leu--a big dinner,
then a drawing-room play, acted by Madame de Feucheres and the Duke's
gentlemen. In the audience were many officers of the Royal Guard, and
numerous other persons, whose names were known to me from having heard
them quoted as being amongst those ardent Conservatives called at that
time the "Ultras." One of them, a M. de Vitrolles, attracted my
attention by holding a long conversation with my father in one of the
intervals between the acts. He has since related this conversation in
his Memoirs, and also the conviction it gave him of the horror with
which the idea of a fresh revolution filled my father. Their only
disagreement was as to the means to avert it. Which of the two was in
the right?
That evening we went back to Neuilly, and the next morning, 26th of
July, as we were just getting ready, Nemours and I, to start for
school, somebody opened the door and launched the remark to our tutors:
"The coup d'Etat is in the Moniteur!" "What!" "Yes! The Decrees."
Whereupon the tutors rushed to the family drawing-room, whither we
followed them. There sat my father, thunderstruck, the Moniteur in his
hand. When he saw the tutors come in, he threw up his arms in despair,
and let them fall again. After a silence on his Part, during which my
mother rapidly acquainted the gentlemen with the state of affairs, my
father said: "They are mad!" That was all, and after another silence, a
long one--"They will get themselves banished again. Oh! for my part, I
have been exiled twice already. I will not bear it again: I stay in
France!"
I heard no more, for it was schooltime, and we had to get into the
carriage; but those words and that first impression remain graven on my
memory.
That day at school was just like any other, but the next, the 27th, as
we came back from the College Henri IV, it was easy to see that there
was a great stir in Paris Deligny's swimming school, at the corner of
the Quai d'Orsay, where we went after school, according to custom, to
take our bath, was full of young men discussing and holding forth, and
relating incidents, true or not, which had occurred during the day. The
Place Louis XV., now the Place de la Concorde, was occupied by the
troops. There was a regiment of Foot Guards, a battalion of the Swiss
Guard, the Lancers of the Guard, the Artillery of the Military
School--magnificent troops all of them, the finest I have seen in any
country, and of which the English Foot Guards alone in these days give
any idea. Officers inspired in the highest possible degree with esprit
de corps and chivalrous devotion, old non-commissioned officers, many
of whom had seen the wars of the Empire, commanding seasoned soldiers,
young in years but old in discipline and instruction, and all proud of
the splendid uniform they wore--such was the Royal Guard. And what
shall I say of the superb Swiss battalions, acknowledged by ancient
tradition to be the finest infantry in the world? These splendid
troops, which might have rendered such great service to France on the
battlefield were to disappear within two days. Upon them too I had
looked my last. Close to the Porte Maillot we met the Duchesse de
Berri, riding amongst a numerous group of equerries. We exchanged
friendly greetings. No doubt her instinct as a woman and a mother led
her to try to keep in touch with passing events.
The next morning, the 28th, we knew Paris to be in open revolt. Cannon
boomed, the great bell of Notre-Dame sounded the tocsin, and naturally
we did not go to school. But the masters who gave my sisters lessons
came out to Neuilly, and from them, in turn, we learnt what was going
on within the capital--barricades in all the streets--the troops on the
defensive--the tricolour hoisted everywhere.
On the 29th, the struggle grew closer to us. A bullet fell whistling in
the park. According to the fugitives from Paris, the insurrection had
triumphed, the troops of the line were fraternizing with the rebels,
and the Guard was retiring on Saint-Cloud to gather round the King. I
pass over all the rumours and false reports accompanying this news,
which was all too true. And what were we doing during these anxious
hours? We obeyed various impulses. The first, a fervent sympathy with
our soldiers, who were engaged in the struggle--ces pauvres soldats,
the real France, the real PEOPLE, obeying the noblest
motives--honour--duty opposing the POPULACE, whose envy and evil
instincts had been let loose by a handful of ambitious men. And we knew
no rest till the whole staff of the household had repaired to the
various gates of the park, to open them to the soldiers, separated,
dispersed, threatened with massacre as they were. They were brought in
and fed, and given caps and blouses instead of their uniforms, and put
across to the other side of the Seine in boats. And with all that, so
full is the heart of man, and yet more that of the child, of
contradiction, that we followed the current and made tricolour
cockades, my sisters and I, and all of us! There is no doubt the
fascination of the tricolour flag had a good deal to do with the
rapidity with which the Revolutionary powder-train took fire.
As there must always be a laughable side, even to the grimmest events,
the comic element was supplied in this case by our professors of
languages, drawing, and so forth, who had not dared to go back into
Paris after leaving it on the 28th, on account of the fighting. When
they had made up their minds to return on the 29th, we persuaded those
of them who wore moustaches that they would run very great risks, and
even be taken for soldiers in disguise. Whereupon the schoolroom was at
once turned into a barber's shop, where a general shaving was
performed, with the inevitable change of appearance resulting
there-from, which increased the alarm of the individuals operated upon
tenfold.
While our professors were shaving off their moustaches, our father was
disappearing from Neuilly. His movements were rigorously concealed from
us, and I never learnt what they really were even in later days. So I
will not attempt to speak of them. We were soon aware of the bare fact
that he was in Paris, exercising public functions which were somewhat
ill-defined as yet; and on the evening of the 31st my mother informed
us that we were going to join him at the Palais-Royal. [Footnote: It is
not for me to pass judgment on my father's conduct in accepting the
crown in 1830. There is no doubt the July Revolution was a great
misfortune. It gave a fresh blow to the monarchical principle, and it
unfortunately encouraged those who speculate in insurrection. But I
know as a fact that my father never desired it, and indeed watched its
approach with the deepest sorrow. When the throne of Charles X.
collapsed without his being able to defend it in any way, he certainly
felt the most passionate desire to escape the common exile and to
continue living a life which was to him the happiest of lives in
France. The struggle one over, and the country in revolt from end to
end, he realized that the only way in which he could escape exile was
to associate himself with the movement, and at the outset he certainly
did it solely in the hope of bringing back Henri V. to the throne. When
this hope failed him, he yielded to the entreaties of those persons who
implored him as the only person in a position to do it, to check France
on that fateful descent which must bring her from the Republic to a
Dictatorship, and so on to invasion, and to mutilation. He delayed that
disastrous succession of events for eighteen years, at the risk of his
own life, which was incessantly threatened, and history will do him
honour for it in spite of the injustice of human nature.]
We started about eight o'clock at night, my mother, my aunt Adelaide,
and we children, in an omnibus, so as not to attract notice. We began
to come to barricades at the Barriere de l'Etoile, but openings had
been made in them already, large enough for carriages to pass through,
all which openings were watched by guards of armed people--I beg their
pardons, I was mistaken--armed CITIZENS, playing at soldiers and
police, who stopped and cross-questioned everybody in the most childish
fashion. The omnibus could not get beyond the Place Louis XV., so many
obstacles did we find in the way. We got out, and my mother divided us
into twos, and told us to scatter and meet again at the Palais-Royal.
Paris was a curious sight that night, lighted up everywhere with lamps,
and tricolour flags at every window. How people found time to make up
so many emblems in those two days is a mystery! The streets were all
torn up, and the paving-stones piled into the barricades, mixed up with
overturned carriages, casks, and rubbish of all kinds. Behind these
barriers were extemporized guardians, passers-by, people walking about
with guns and firing them off every minute, and everybody, man, woman,
and child, wore huge tricolour cockades in hats and caps or bonnets, or
in their hair.
In the centre of a great crowd on the Place du Palais-Royal there was
one of the Laffitte et Caillard diligences, which had been used as a
barricade, and set up again. It was full of people inside, and they
clustered on the roof like bees, all of them singing in chorus. Between
the choruses, sharp volleys of musketry rang out, and the vehicle,
drawn by three or four hundred people holding on to ropes, tore round
the square, amid a concert of varied yells. Though it was very late
when we reached the palace, it was all lighted up, and every door stood
open. Anybody who chose could go in, and when we went up the stairs we
found many people already settled on the steps, prepared to spend the
night there. We saw my father in his study, and then we were sent to
bed, or rather to camp out in the rooms we usually slept in. The next
day the firing slackened, but the general idleness continued; everybody
was walking about. Soon the question of food began to press, for all
supplies and trade were stopped by the universal barricades. Everybody
asked everybody else what was going on, a subject upon which every one
except the leaders was profoundly ignorant. The multitude was just like
an immense flock of sheep, whose shepherds had been driven away, and
who seemed to wonder why the new dogs who were to herd them did not
make their appearance. There was no bad feeling; now and then there
would be a panic, everybody taking to their heels, nobody knew why, and
then stopping again and bursting out laughing. Sometimes a noise arose,
and swelled as it drew nearer. It was some popular leader going to the
Hotel de Ville or the Palais-Royal, with two or three claqueurs before
him, to stir up an enthusiasm in which everybody shared, without having
a notion of the name of the hero they were acclaiming, yet glad to be
able thus to show off their civic rights. Then there would be a fit of
general tenderness. Everybody kissed everybody else vehemently. In some
cases a transport of patriotism thus calmed itself; in others perhaps
it was the effect of the extreme heat, and the consequent thirst, which
had not gone unquenched, and in others, again, it was merely the
relaxation of morals an era of universal brotherhood brought with it.
The hero of this general and infectious kissing match was Lafayette.
Everybody wanted to kiss him. A great rattle of drums having announced
his arrival at the Palais-Royal one day, he had to take his stand in
one of the drawing-rooms, in front of me, and be kissed by thousands of
persons of all ages. I did it, like all the others, but I saw people I
knew come up again many times over to be kissed by the illustrious
veteran, and each time their agitation seemed to increase.
Every one went in and out of the Palais-Royal as they chose. It was a
strange march past, of people of all sorts, who came to take notes, see
how the wind blew, and give in an adhesion which might be more or less
disinterested. Some of them, inspired by real devotion, came to try if
they might even yet serve a cause that was so dear to them. Thus I saw
M. de Chateaubriand led into my mother's drawing-room by Anatole de
Montesquiou. And, on the other hand, I saw Savary, Duc de Rovigo,
notorious in connection with the Duc d'Enghien, in full uniform, booted
and spurred, leave the study, whither he had gone to offer my father
his services.
One evening, as we were all gathered together, we heard a great noise
coming from the staircase. We hurried towards it. A crowd of armed men,
with lighted torches, were coming up, shouting loudly and waving flags.
At their head came five or six pupils of the Ecole Polytechnique, with
their three-cornered hats cocked and swords drawn. Behind them a woman
in man's attire, red belt and close-fitting pantaloons, was being borne
in triumph. She was a heroine of the barricades, whom the yelling crowd
desired to introduce to my father, and he had to receive her. This
scene filled me with disgust, and it was soon followed by another, no
less painful. The leaders of the Revolution had sent an army of
volunteers to dislodge the old King and his Guard from Rambouillet.
They did not turn him out, first of all because the King himself had
decided to disband his guard and retire to Cherbourg with no escort but
four companies of his bodyguard; and, secondly, because these same
volunteers, numerous as they were on leaving Paris, melted away rapidly
on the road, and above all things took good care not to venture within
range of the Guard's fire. Nevertheless, they returned in triumph from
Rambouillet, bringing back the royal horses and carriages, which they
had seized without striking a blow. I was horrified to see the great
carriages, with six or eight horses, still driven by the wretched
coachmen and postilions, in their state liveries, enter the Place du
Palais-Royal--believing as I did that they were bringing back the King
and his family as prisoners, into the very jaws of the Revolution. But,
happily, this was not the case. The only people in the carriages were
some young blackguards, dressed up in extraordinary garments,
dressing-gowns and cotton caps, and I know not what other masquerading
trash, intended to call forth the ribald jokes of the multitude. It was
a disgusting scene. The days passed on, and by degrees Paris returned
to its ordinary life. The streets were repaired, vehicles began to
circulate again. Soldiers, gendarmes, policemen, were to be seen once
more, and a certain sense of security revived. At all events the
eternal struggle of order against disorder began afresh. Those who
formed the most turbulent element of the Revolutionary party were
induced, by degrees, to engage in the army, and were drafted off to
Algiers, under the title of "Regiments de la Charte." It was less easy
to get rid of a Guard of Honour, numbering some two or three hundred
men, which had formed itself on its own responsibility, nominally for
the protection of my father and of the Palais-Royal. This guard was
always in the vestibule and on the staircase, night and day alike. It
was an omnium gatherum of vagabonds, prowling ruffians of the vilest
kind, ragged scamps, all carrying arms, stolen from every sort of
place, among others from the Musee d'Artillerie, whence some had gone
so far as to borrow cuirasses and helmets that had belonged to the
warriors of the League. Of course they all had to be fed and paid. The
chief of the band was a midshipman in the navy, on leave in Paris at
the time the Revolution broke out, of the name of Damiguet de Vernon,
who died afterwards with the rank of general in the army. Whenever my
father went out, to go to the Chamber of Deputies or elsewhere, this
rabble turned out and saluted after a fashion of its own, with drums
beating and trumpets blowing. It was a scene quite worthy of Callot's
pencil. To get rid of this worthy set, the midshipman was at once given
a lieutenant's commission in the mounted Municipal Guard, under pretext
of a reward from the nation, and clothes were bestowed on his band,
wherewith they hastened to decamp on the first sign of the introduction
of anything like discipline into their ranks.
Our regular routine began again too. After over a week's holiday, I was
put back to school, where we immediately made a revolution of our own,
by insisting that the bell which rang for class and mealtimes should be
replaced by a drum. If, as I went into school with my folding desk
under my arm, I came across the column of big boys coming down from
their class-rooms, I used to get many a cuff to the tune of "Take that,
your young Majesty!" or the slang saying of the day, "Have you seen
Leontine?"--this last from the name of Leontine Fay, a favourite
actress with young people. But, apart from that, my life was as
monotonous as ever it had been. The riots and attempts at insurrection
which succeeded each other with something very like regularity seemed
to diversify it but very little. Yet I did feel a certain excitement
the first time I witnessed one of these attempts at sedition. Our
evening was just over at the Palais-Royal, and I had gone up to my
room, when loud shouts, and an ejaculation of "Oh, good gracious!" from
my valet, made me run to the window. The Court of the Palais-Royal was
closed, but all the galleries were filled with a surging, yelling
crowd, the more violent of whom were battering at the staircase door
facing Chevet's shop. "They are going to break it in and come upstairs:
they'll be here in another moment," we said to ourselves. "What is to
be done?"
Amidst the general shouting, yells of "Death to Louis Philippe!" were
to be heard. Then, all at once, in the gaslight, I saw the policemen's
swords twinkle, pinking people in all directions. Soon the troops came
hurrying up with fixed bayonets, and the rabble took to their heels at
the sight of them. This crowd had just come back from Vincennes,
whither it had gone to demand the heads of Charles X.'s ministers, who
were shut up in the fortress, from General Daumesnil, "the man with the
wooden leg," and having failed in that attempt it wanted to have my
father's instead.
So that affair ended; but fresh opportunities for creating disturbances
soon occurred, and were as eagerly seized upon. One was during a great
diplomatic dinner given by my father in the dining-room of the
Palais-Royal, which looks out on the Cour des Fontaines. I was sitting
by Lord Granville's daughter, and doing my best to make myself
pleasant, when the uproar of the riot burst upon us suddenly and
interrupted all the talk. Everybody looked at everybody else, and then
down at their own plate, and everybody looked very sorry to be where he
was at that moment. Then the noise of a great trampling of hoofs on the
pavement revealed the fact that the cavalry was charging, whereupon the
sky cleared, and conversation began again, though not without some
appearance of effort.
Another time, again, matters became more serious. The riot--I don't
remember which it was now, there were so many of them!--became very
threatening at one moment. I see my father still, taking Casimir Perier
by the arm, and shouting in his ear, "Tell them to serve out ball
cartridge, ball cartridge, do you hear?" Casimir Perier, as excited as
himself, was rushing away, when he was stopped by an officer, who said,
"There are three students of the Ecole Polytechnique, sent to parley,
waiting below."
"Parley for whom? For the rioters? For the insurrection? Lay hands on
them! Lock them up in prison."
"But, sir," said the officer, himself a former student at the Ecole
Polytechnique, "I can't: I've given them my word!" But Casimir Perier
was not there to listen even just then I observed a man of woebegone
appearance, sitting in a corner of the drawing-room in which the
foregoing scene had taken place. One of my eldest brother's
aides-de-camp, General Marbot, was walking up and down in front of him,
never taking his eyes off him. "What are you doing there?" I asked the
general.
"I'm keeping my eye on that gentleman you see there."
"Who is he?"
"The Prefect of Police."
"Really?"
"They say he is playing us false"
And there you see a specimen of the plight you find yourself in on the
morrow of a revolution, when order needs restoring not only in the open
streets but in the highest quarters in the State.
For my own part, I was always delighted to hear the drums call the
National Guard--and consequently all our masters, tutors, and
professors, who served in it--to arms, at each fresh outbreak of
disturbance.
It meant interrupted studies, and, above all, interrupted attendance at
school, where, however, luckily for me, I was not to stay much longer.
Seeing that I did no good there whatever, my father decided, in the
spring of 1831, to remove me altogether, and as my taste for a naval
career was growing stronger and stronger, he resolved to make a sailor
of me But before I seriously entered the profession he wished me to
make a sea-voyage. So I was sent to Toulon, to be shipped as volunteer
pilot's apprentice, on board the Arthemise frigate, commander Latreyte.
I was barely thirteen I could not have begun at a better age.
After bidding the tenderest farewell to my father and mother, my aunt,
and my brothers and sisters, from whom I had never been parted before,
I was packed into a post-chaise with Monsieur Trognon, and off we
started.
As far as Lyons our journey was uneventful, but when we got there M.
Paulze d'Ivoy, the prefet, and M. Vitet, author of Barricades des Etats
de Blois, took possession of me, nominally to show me the town--in
reality to make me the pretext for certain demonstrations in favour of
the new order of things. I was driven about, to Fourvieres, to La
Croix-Rousse, and so forth, and had the best of receptions from their
sturdy inhabitants. Thirteen-year-old lad as I was, I had to receive
the officers of the National Guard--very military indeed they were,
with their uniform with its white facings, copied from that of the
Imperial Guard. And these receptions and official entertainments, which
were not at all to my personal taste, were repeated all along the road
till we got to Toulon, marked by increasing animation and fervour as we
got farther south, and as the population through which we passed became
more and more divided by political passions. At Valence I found an
enormous crowd of people, and the garrison and National Guard both
under arms, while a tall lieutenant-colonel, of the 49th Regiment of
the Line, insisted on my inspecting the troops in person.
He took my hand with one of his, with the other he waved his sword, and
led the plaudits. His name was Magnan, and he was a Marshal of France
before he died. At Mornas, the native place of the famous Baron des
Adrets, the reception took a very original shape. As we drove up to the
posting-house, I saw a great crowd, and the National Guard drawn up in
two ranks, on the right and left of the postilions who were to take us
on. The carriage pulled up between the ranks, and I fancied I saw a
sort of suppressed smile on the countenances of the National Guard. It
did not last long, for the commandant in the wildest excitement rapidly
gave the words of command: "Present arms--Fire!" And they were followed
by the most abominable noise, every man having presented arms with his
finger on the trigger of his musket. The crowd cheered tremendously,
the horses plunged and reared, and there was a terrible disturbance,
which seemed to afford the keenest joy to the officer in command. There
was nothing very striking at Orange, nor at Avignon. Speeches by the
authorities, visits to the public buildings, very much the same routine
as that which official receptions have nowadays made so familiar to
everybody. But at Orgon, between Avignon and Aix, it was a very
different matter. An immense and excited crowd awaited our arrival,
shouting all manner of things. Then the carriage was seized upon by
people who looked drunk, but who were drunk with political passion
alone. It seems the town of Orgon was not reckoned to favour the regime
of 1830. So from every side I was greeted with shouts of "We are
Cavaillon's men! ... We've come down from the mountains so that you may
tell your papa there are no Carlists in Provence." And then they sang
the Marseillaise The horses were taken out of the carriage, the crowd
surrounded it, climbing on the steps, the wheels, the fore-carriage,
the roof. I was like a prisoner in a cage; all I could see out of the
window was the boots of the people who were sitting on the top. They
sang all the verses of the Marseillaise, and bawled between them. A
gentleman contrived to slip up to the carriage door, gave himself out
to be the mayor, and tried to rescue us, calling out: "Gentlemen, this
really is not decent behaviour." All he got for his pains was a shout
of "What the devil do we care about a mayor like you?" I don't know how
long it would have gone on, if a detachment of the battalion of
Government workmen quartered at Orgon, which had been sent for, had not
come to our rescue.
Between Orgon and Marseilles we met the "Regiment de la Charte"
marching from Paris on their way to Algiers, and their passage through
the country did not a little to excite the inhabitants. At Marseilles
the National Guard lined the Allees de Meillan, each man with a bouquet
stuck into the muzzle of his rifle, which he took out and threw into
the barouche in which I sat with General Gazan, so that I was soon
fairly buried, with nothing but my head sticking out, while the crowd
shouted at the top of its voice: "Vive le Prinnche!--Long live the
Prince!" and I heard women's voices adding, "Que sis poulid! Qui est si
joli!"
I had hardly reached Toulon, ere the frigate I had joined put to sea,
my apprenticeship began, and I soon made myself at home among our
sailors, who all of them, officers, petty officers, and seamen alike,
not only showed me an affection which won my heart from the very
outset, but took every pains to make my stay amongst them a pleasant
one, while each in his own special sphere initiated me into all the
details of my duty.
The Arthemise was a fine sailing frigate, of fifty-two guns, with huge
spars--one of the most elegant types of the old-fashioned ships, but an
old-fashioned ship she was indeed. We even had hempen cables instead of
chain ones! The crew, drawn almost exclusively from the lists of
registered seamen, was active and bold on the rigging, but somewhat
insubordinate. The words of command were given amidst volleys of oaths,
and carried out under a hail of blows dealt by the petty officers. The
superior officers, who had all belonged to the old Imperial Navy, clung
to that detestable habit, which has cost us so many reverses, of
completely neglecting the military side of the ship's drill. The only
thing they looked to was navigation. There was indeed a routine of
regulation practice carried out, but it was utterly ridiculous. The ne
plus ultra of perfection in artillery drill, for instance, was supposed
to be when at the word "Ram" all the thirteen rammers of the ship's
battery struck the bore of the guns with irreproachable simultaneity!
Now and then there was a rehearsal of the drill book, but it was always
done amidst universal sleepiness and inattention. There never was one
day's practice, nor even one shot fired, during the whole cruise.
The commander gave me boatswains and sailors to teach me the various
details of my duty, and I soon learnt to give things their right names,
to tie knots, and to climb about the rigging too, though I did not
manage that, the first time, without being horribly frightened. I
remember, when I got as far as the topgallant crosstrees, clinging on,
and not daring to come down till I was driven to it by the jeers of the
on-lookers. But I learnt most of all by observation, and from the
outset I had that indescribable thing that nobody can teach another,
the seafaring instinct. Our cruise was a pleasant one, and our stays in
port were interesting. At Ajaccio I came upon more public functions,
and was the hero of a Bonapartist demonstration. I was borne as though
in triumph to the house where Napoleon was born, where I was received
by a very old Signor Ramolino, brother to Madame Letitia. In common
with my sisters, who drew pictures of Napoleon all over the place, I
professed the greatest admiration for the great warrior. So I asked his
uncle for some souvenir of him, and he presented me with a red
armchair, out of the room in which he was born.
After a visit to the Dey of Algiers, the last representative of those
Barbary Moors who were the "Terror of the Seas," as the Muette de
Portici has it, I received at Leghorn an invitation from the Grand Duke
of Tuscany to come to Florence, and was taken thither by the French
Minister, M. de Ganay, a charming man. There was nothing that excellent
good Grand Duke and his family did not do for me while I staid at the
Pitti Palace, and the only acknowledgment I could make of it all was to
turn my schoolboy talents to constructing a jointed jumping jack, that
turned head over heels, for one of the young princesses whom we used to
call the Archduchess Mimi, and who afterwards married Prince Luitpold
of Bavaria. I returned on board the Arthemise full of gratitude for my
reception, and of admiration for the monuments and artistic marvels I
had seen at Florence and Pisa and Pistoja, and in which, in spite of my
youth, I had taken the deepest interest.
At Naples I found fresh delights in the midst of my mother's family and
my young cousins, of both sexes, one of whom, Antonietta, an admirably
beautiful girl, later became Grand Duchess of Tuscany in her turn.
Nothing indeed could have been more charming than the Naples of those
days. I do not speak of that wondrous setting which will last to all
eternity, but of the Naples of the Neapolitans, gay, noisy, and teeming
with wit, as it was before the plague of politics fell on it, bringing
divisions and gloom, and despoiling it of all its charm of originality;
Naples, with its lazzaroni and its macaroni, and its "corricoli"
tearing along with tinkling bells, crammed with monks and women in
their costumes--the Naples, in fine, of Pulcinella and of Leopold
Robert.
After Naples came Palermo, and then Malta, where we found the
magnificent British squadron, and received the most hospitable of
welcomes from General and Lady Emily Ponsonby, the governor and his
charming wife.
Our stay at Malta ended with a disagreeable incident, hardly
conceivable in these days, when naval discipline may be held up as a
model to every one. On the evening of the day before that on which we
were to weigh anchor, our whole crew deserted in a body. In spite of
the efforts of the officer of the watch, and some others of inferior
rank, who were present, over 300 men seized the boats and dories that
lay alongside of us, and took "French leave" on shore. The next day we
could not start, for we had no crew. We had to apply to the police and
the English garrison, who sent out pickets, collected our rovers, and
brought almost all of them back in the course of the evening, and we
started somewhat humiliated at having given the English such a sad
specimen of the insubordination which always follows on revolutions.
The English have had their revolution too, but they have taken good
care to have no more than the one, and above all not to make laws which
render a periodical recurrence of revolution inevitable. As we had over
300 delinquents, it was impossible to punish them. The men felt this,
and, with the evident intention of setting their officers at defiance,
they spent the next few evenings singing revolutionary songs, some
verses of which they came and yelled on their knees on the quarterdeck.
The firmness of the commanding officers got the better of these
saturnalia, by degrees.
Storms delayed us in the Maltese waters, and we only just missed being
on the spot on the very day when an eruption threw up an island and a
volcano from the depths of the sea, to which they have now returned.
After a long passage, the frigate anchored at Algiers, which in 1831
was still the city of the Deys. Not a street had been widened, nor a
European house built. It was still inhabited by a numerous native
population. The Rue de la Marine, which was like a narrow winding
staircase, was crowded with negro women street sellers, the cafes
filled with Moors wearing huge turbans. To increase the picturesqueness
of the situation, there was fighting going on at the city gates.
Berthezene, the Governor-General, had just been forced to beat a
retreat from Medeah. I could see the firing on the slopes of Kouba from
the frigate, and a column had to be sent out to revictual the
Maison-Carree! Under these circumstances, the Governor bethought
himself that it would be a good thing to show "the King's son" to the
troops, and settled to hold a review the next day. The troops were to
be withdrawn for the moment from the line of defense, and the review
was to be held at Mustapha. I had ventured to suggest that I might go
and see the soldiers in their own lines, hoping thus to get near the
firing, a natural desire enough, seeing I wore a volunteer uniform in
spite of my thirteen years, but nobody listened to me, and to Mustapha
I was taken, mounted on the ex-Dey's white mule, which an artilleryman
persisted in leading by the bridle, in spite of all my indignant
protests.
A real downright review that was! The men had been fighting all the
morning, and Zouaves and linesmen alike looked fierce indeed, with
tanned faces, eyes reddened by the smoke, and a black mark at the
corner of every mouth, from biting off the ends of the cartridges. The
Zouaves had only just been raised, and were not a bit like the Zouaves
of the present day. The ranks consisted mostly of Arabs, who wore
almost the same uniform as the present one, only with bare legs and
slippers on their feet, mingled with Parisian roughs, drafted out of
the "Regiments de la Charte," most of them wearing blouses and caps.
Many of the non-commissioned officers had come from the Royal Guard,
and still wore their blue cloaks. The excessively whimsical get-up of
the officers put the finishing touch to this motley show. Most of them
had adopted the Mameluke dress--white turbans, huge trousers, yellow
boots, a sun embroidered on their backs, and a scimitar. After the
Zouaves I saw the squadron of "Chasseurs Algeriens," the nucleus of the
future "Chasseurs d'Afrique," march past. They wore Turkish dress and
turbans too, all but their commanding officer, a big bearded artillery
captain, who wore a burnous and Arab pistols over his uniform. His name
was Marey-Monge, and he was a general of division when he died.
After the review I was taken back to my ship. The frigate sailed for
Port Mahon, where we underwent a long quarantine, and thence to Toulon,
where we arrived just as the squadron which had forced the mouth of the
Tagus, under the orders of Admiral Roussin, returned, I went over those
fine ships, and especially the Algesiras, with many a regret that the
Arthemise had had no share in the fray. The commander of the Algesiras,
M. Moulac, a tall, strongly built, grey-headed man, the bravest of the
brave, who had fought boldly in all our naval struggles with England,
told me a story which impressed me deeply, and which I here transcribe
just as it remains fixed in my memory:--
"It has been blowing great guns, as you know, all the last few days.
The ship was running under easy sail when I heard a shout of 'Man
overboard!' The lifebuoy was thrown, and, looking astern, I saw the man
had caught it. But it was a raging sea--I saw and felt that to try and
lower a boat to save the poor wretch must expose the men who manned it
to the greatest danger. The crew read in my face the fearful struggle
going on within me, and twenty, thirty, perhaps forty volunteers,
headed by officers and midshipmen, crowded round me, beseeching me
almost on their knees: 'Let us save our comrade, sir! we can't desert
him!' I was weak enough to yield. By unexpected good luck, we managed
to lower a boat without accident, and she started manned by a dozen
men. We saw her, by still greater good fortune, get to the poor fellow
and save him, and I was steering about so as to make it easier for her
to get back, when a huge wave broke over her. A shout of horror went up
from her, and then silence. In another minute I saw my boat capsized,
on the crest of a wave, with two or three men, one of them a
midshipman, clinging to the keel. To shorten their agony, I made as
though I was going ahead. The middy understood that I was forced to
abandon them, for he waved a farewell and let himself go. I had been
weak, but I was cruelly punished. Thirteen men drowned instead of one,
and by my fault!"
I shall never forget the severe expression that came over the
commander's face as he added, laying his hand on my shoulder, "Some
day, boy, you may be in command. May the thought of me remind you
always that duty is inexorable!"
After this final episode in my first cruise I went ashore, but I went
ashore a sailor to the core, and my one idea, when I got back to Paris,
was to acquire the technical information needed for my profession. To
this the years 1832 and 1833 were devoted. M. Guerard, a charming
fellow, universally liked and an incomparable instructor, was my
mathematical teacher. A lieutenant in the navy, M. Hernoux, put me
through the course of study of the Naval School. At the same time I set
assiduously to work to learn drawing. My first master in this line was
M. Barbier, the father of Jules Barbier, the poet and librettist, who,
with Emile Augier, was a class-mate of my young brothers. I did
watercolours too, under an Englishman, William Callow, and oils in
Gudin's studio. But my real master, who taught me to draw, and led and
guided me, and gave me my taste for things artistic, was Ary Scheffer,
with whom I remained on terms of the closest intimacy until his death.
It was somewhere about this time that a French army entered Belgium,
and besieged and took the citadel of Antwerp, and during this campaign
my elder brothers first had the honour of leading our soldiers under
fire. Antwerp once taken, the French Government, content with having
given a proof of activity to Europe, and shown everybody what our
legions could do, at once recalled the army, and my father went to
review it in the cantonments on the frontier where it lay. I made this
journey with him. The troops were splendid, full of zeal and
confidence. I was shown one infantry brigade, which at the time of
mobilization had done marches of sixty to seventy kilometres, so as to
reach the given point at the hour fixed upon. It was an interesting
journey, though a very trying one. Every day there was an entry into
some town, and a partial review, in Siberian cold. And every evening
there was a banquet, and every night a ball. The chief review was held
at Valenciennes. The troops looked magnificent, drawn up on the snow,
and, though it was so terribly cold, a brilliant sun lighted up the
splendid military scene. It was enlivened by a little incident. The
commandant of the fortress of Valenciennes was an old colonel, who had
re-engaged in 1830, after having dabbled somewhat in conspiracy, under
the Restoration. His name was M. de la Huberdiere, and he had had
himself a hat made exactly like Napoleon's, and wore it just after the
same fashion.
During the march past, either from sheer keenness or because he wanted
to attract attention to himself, he edged himself gradually in front of
the staff, on the side where the troops advanced, till at last he was
abreast of the King, so that the troops appeared to be marching past
him. This provoked one of my father's aides-de-camp, Heymes, who went
up to him, and said, saluting, "It seems to me, Colonel, you would be
better placed still if you were on the King's horse!" The shriek of
laughter which greeted this remark may be imagined.
This same Heymes, one of the few survivors of General Leclerc's
expedition to St. Domingo, had, on leaving that charnel-house, become
aide-de-camp to Marshal Ney. He it was who, during the famous retreat
from Russia, was sent to ask the general who was blowing up the
Beresina bridges to suspend the work of destruction, so as to allow of
the passage of the column with the wounded, who must otherwise be
doomed to death. It was worth seeing the expression of his face, severe
enough already, when he repeated the answer the general in question
gave him, with the most southern of accents, "What, my dear fellow! The
wounded! The Emperor has decided to sacrifice them!"
The worthy Heymes did my father a great service a short time after the
review which has led me to mention him. It was at the moment of the
insurrection in June 1832. We were at St. Cloud. It was well known that
the agitators of every description intended to make a demonstration on
the occasion of General Lamarque's funeral, but the demonstration was
not expected to be of any importance. However, at about five in the
evening, we beheld Heymes, in plain clothes, gallop into the courtyard,
on a dragoon's charger, covered with foam. He had just come from the
demonstration, and had witnessed that ordinary prologue to revolutions,
pillage and massacre--pillage of gunsmiths' shops, and massacre of the
officers of the 6th Dragoons, shot down with pistols, without any
provocation whatever, at the head of their squadrons in line.
"You must come to Paris, Sire," he said, as he dismounted. My father
did not wait for him to say it twice, and an hour later he was at the
Tuileries, thence giving the impulse which nipped the revolutionary
attempt in the bud. The next morning he was on horseback amidst the
troops and the National Guard, which hemmed the rioters into the ward
of St. Merri. An incident occurred there which was highly
characteristic of that Parisian population, in whom a generous chord
will always thrill, even in its maddest moments. The King, with my
brother Nemours and his staff, had gone down the Rue des Arcis, at the
end of which lively firing was heard. The troops who were massed in the
street greeted the sovereign with cheers, and he, going forward,
reached a square in which the fighting was actually going on. The
cheering ran from one to another, the soldiers who were engaged ceasing
their fire to join in. This change in the music struck the insurgents
also at last. They stopped firing too, and were to be seen appearing at
the windows, rifle in hand, taking off their caps to the plucky King,
whom they would not have hesitated to shoot at a minute before.
I need not say that as soon as the King and his escort disappeared down
a side street the fight began again, merrier than ever, and the 42nd
Regiment of the line carried the monastery of St. Merri. An historic
regiment that 42nd! After having fought against the "White"
insurrection in the Vendee and the republican insurrection at the St.
Merri monastery, caused the breakdown of Prince Napoleon's Boulogne
adventure, occupied the Chamber of Deputies on the 2nd of December, and
heroically lost its whole strength twice over in the siege of Paris, it
has had the good fortune of being almost the only one of our regiments
to keep its arms and its colours amidst all our mishaps.
There was no further interruption to the course of my studies, except a
journey of the King's to Normandy, on which I accompanied him. The
official object of this journey was to hold a review, at Cherbourg, of
the squadron which had operated, in concert with an English one, in the
North Sea, during the arrangement of the Belgian question. But its
chief end was to go through the Departments in Normandy and enter into
relations with the honest folk who populated them.
The trip was fruitful in incident. The first happened at Bernay, the
native town of the virtuous Dupont de l'Eure, one of those virtuous
individuals who would virtuously have your head cut off sooner than
drop the smallest iota of their vulgar and utopian ideas. The prefect,
M. Passy, had warned the King that amongst the addresses that would be
read to him on his arrival there would be one which would give him a
lecture. Thus warned, we arrived, and having mounted a platform in the
open air, with a verdant dome above it, the reception and the addresses
began. There was nothing very particular at first; at last a "President
de Tribunal" advanced, and the way he made his bow with his prim look,
and the curiosity which stretched every neck, told me at once that the
King was to get the promised lecture. It came, indeed, very studied,
and very impertinent too. Everybody listened in silence. It was all
about courtiers, the danger of listening to flatterers, and so forth.
As it ended, the heads of the president and his friends all came up
with a "Take that, my fine fellow" look.
Then the King replied with the utmost politeness, thanking M. le
President for the advice he had been good enough to give him.
"Flatterers and courtiers," he said, "have indeed done much mischief,
and, sad to say, the race is not yet extinct, for nowadays there are
courtiers who are far more dangerous than the flatterers of princes and
of kings--those courtiers and flatterers of the people, who to buy a
vain and contemptible popularity suggest to them dreams which are
unrealizable and which bring them to misfortune," &c. On this head my
father bestowed a well-directed hiding on the president, which was
constantly interrupted by a running fire of applause, so that the
worthy gentleman ended by not knowing which way to look. Amongst other
eminently French qualities, my father possessed the gift of repartee to
the highest degree. He always knew how to use it, though with a
politeness and good nature which softened whatever might be too sharp
about its sting. This time the blow went home. Our journey, thus begun,
was continued amid constantly increasing cordiality and success. It was
a somewhat tiring manner of life. We went by short stages, from one
reception to another. Everywhere the National Guard and the troops were
under arms. When they were in considerable numbers, we mounted horses,
either lent or requisitioned beforehand. In the evening, wherever we
slept, there would be a great banquet, and generally a ball as well. It
was the duty of us young folk to lead the dancing--a pleasant task
enough, if we could have chosen our partners among the pretty women
whom I was beginning to notice, in spite of my being only fourteen, and
of whom there were many, especially at Grandville and St. Lo. But our
partners were given to us officially, and were chosen from the families
of the authorities. We exerted ourselves to be pleasant in spite of
that. I do not know whether I was succeeding too much or too little at
a ball one night, but I saw the husband's head suddenly appear between
my partner and myself, with the observation, "Well, my wife's not
bad-looking, is she?" and he smacked his lips like a man who has eaten
a good thing.
Falaise was the culminating point in our journey as far as incidents
went. We were to make a halt there, and, as fifteen battalions of the
National Guard were collected, the aide-de-camp, who did duty as
quartermaster too, had seen to getting suitable mounts for the King,
for us, and for Marshals Soult and Gerard, who accompanied us. The
famous fair at Guibray, near Falaise, was just over, and a circus which
had come to enliven it was still there. The circus horses were laid
hands on, and when we arrived we were agreeably surprised to find fine
white horses awaiting us instead of the ordinary nags and troop-horses
we generally had to ride. So we got into the saddle, and the review
began. Just as the King reached the right flank of the line, the band
began to play, and then an unforeseen event occurred Our proud
coursers, thinking that they were at a performance, set each of them to
do his own particular duty. The King, Marshal Soult, and two others of
our party were riding the horses who did that trick called the
"Grand-Ecart," in which all four horses draw together at the same
moment. When their riders pulled at their bridles, the four horses,
feeling themselves reined up, instantly fell into the usual circus
canter. Another horse kept wheeling round and round, and confusion
became general, nobody guessing what had happened until the
aide-de-camp smote his brow, and stopped the band.
The trouble did not end there. The National Guard was in proud
possession of one gun, which it had horsed somehow or other. A jolt
broke the axle-tree, just as it was going past. Then there was a
half-squadron of cavalry mounted on stallions or geldings. But the
trumpeter was on a mare, which fact brought difficulty on poor
Rosinante during the march past. In the evening there was a great ball
in a huge temporary shed, with tiers of seats all round it. All of a
sudden half the tiers collapsed, like cards, and all the ladies were to
be seen, though almost unhurt, on their backs with their legs in the
air, amidst a most awful dust! I must confess we ungallantly seized the
opportunity of the confusion to go off to our beds. The King, too, did
the same, thus escaping from the persecutions of the Polish refugees,
interned at Falaise, who had come to the ball in lancer uniforms worthy
of the merry-andrews at the opera balls, to pester him with their
petitions.